This is a modern-English version of Encyclopaedia Britannica, 11th Edition, "Electrostatics" to "Engis": Volume 9, Slice 3, originally written by Various.
It has been thoroughly updated, including changes to sentence structure, words, spelling,
and grammar—to ensure clarity for contemporary readers, while preserving the original spirit and nuance. If
you click on a paragraph, you will see the original text that we modified, and you can toggle between the two versions.
Scroll to the bottom of this page and you will find a free ePUB download link for this book.
Transcriber’s note: |
A few typographical errors have been corrected. They
appear in the text like this, and the
explanation will appear when the mouse pointer is moved over the marked
passage. Sections in Greek will yield a transliteration
when the pointer is moved over them, and words using diacritic characters in the
Latin Extended Additional block, which may not display in some fonts or browsers, will
display an unaccented version. Links to other EB articles: Links to articles residing in other EB volumes will be made available when the respective volumes are introduced online. |
THE ENCYCLOPÆDIA BRITANNICA
A DICTIONARY OF ARTS, SCIENCES, LITERATURE AND GENERAL INFORMATION
ELEVENTH EDITION
VOLUME IX SLICE III
Electrostatics to Engis
Articles in This Slice
Articles in This Section
ELECTROSTATICS, the name given to that department of electrical science in which the phenomena of electricity at rest are considered. Besides their ordinary condition all bodies are capable of being thrown into a physical state in which they are said to be electrified or charged with electricity. When in this condition they become sources of electric force, and the space round them in which this force is manifested is called an “electric field” (see Electricity). Electrified bodies exert mechanical forces on each other, creating or tending to create motion, and also induce electric charges on neighbouring surfaces.
ELECTROSTATICS, is the branch of electrical science that studies electricity when it’s not in motion. Besides their usual state, all objects can be put into a condition where they are considered electrified or charged with electricity. When they’re in this state, they become sources of electric force, and the area around them where this force is active is called an “electric field” (see Electricity). Electrified objects apply mechanical forces on each other, causing or trying to cause motion, and can also induce electric charges on nearby surfaces.
The reader possessed of no previous knowledge of electrical phenomena will best appreciate the meaning of the terms employed by the aid of a few simple experiments. For this purpose the following apparatus should be provided:—(1) two small metal tea-trays and some clean dry tumblers, the latter preferably varnished with shellac varnish made with alcohol free from water; (2) two sheets of ebonite rather larger than the tea-trays; (3) a rod of sealing-wax or ebonite and a glass tube, also some pieces of silk and flannel; (4) a few small gilt pith balls suspended by dry silk threads; (5) a gold-leaf electroscope, and, if possible, a simple form of quadrant electrometer (see Electroscope and Electrometer); (6) some brass balls mounted on the ends of ebonite penholders, and a few tin canisters. With the aid of this apparatus, the principal facts of electrostatics can be experimentally verified, as follows:—
The reader who has no prior knowledge of electrical phenomena will understand the meanings of the terms used better through a few simple experiments. For this purpose, the following materials should be gathered:—(1) two small metal tea trays and some clean, dry tumblers, ideally coated with shellac varnish made with alcohol that is free from water; (2) two sheets of ebonite, slightly larger than the tea trays; (3) a rod of sealing wax or ebonite, a glass tube, and some pieces of silk and flannel; (4) a few small gilt pith balls suspended by dry silk threads; (5) a gold-leaf electroscope, and if available, a simple type of quadrant electrometer (see Electroscope and Electrometer); (6) some brass balls mounted on the ends of ebonite penholders, and a few tin canisters. Using this equipment, the main principles of electrostatics can be experimentally demonstrated as follows:—
Experiment I.—Place one tea-tray bottom side uppermost upon three warm tumblers as legs. Rub the sheet of ebonite vigorously with warm flannel and lay it rubbed side downwards on the top of the tray. Touch the tray with the finger for an instant, and lift up the ebonite without letting the hand touch the tray a second time. The tray is then found to be electrified. If a suspended gilt pith ball is held near it, the ball will first be attracted and then repelled. If small fragments of paper are scattered on the tray and then the other tray held in the hand over them, they will fly up and down rapidly. If the knuckle is approached to the electrified tray, a small spark will be seen, and afterwards the tray will be found to be discharged or unelectrified. If the electrified tray is touched with the sealing-wax or ebonite rod, it will not be discharged, but if touched with a metal wire, the hand, or a damp thread, it is discharged at once. This shows that some bodies are conductors and others non-conductors or insulators of electricity, and that bodies can be electrified by friction and impart their electric charge to other bodies. A charged conductor supported on a non-conductor retains its charge. It is then said to be insulated.
Experiment I.—Place a tea tray upside down on top of three warm glasses as legs. Vigorously rub a sheet of ebonite with warm flannel and lay it with the rubbed side facing down on top of the tray. Touch the tray with your finger for a moment, then lift the ebonite without letting your hand touch the tray again. The tray will be electrified. If you hold a suspended gilt pith ball near it, the ball will first be attracted and then pushed away. If you scatter small pieces of paper on the tray and then hold the other tray in your hand over them, they will jump up and down rapidly. If you bring your knuckle close to the electrified tray, you will see a small spark, and afterward, the tray will be found to be discharged or neutral. If you touch the electrified tray with a sealing-wax or ebonite rod, it won't be discharged, but if you touch it with a metal wire, your hand, or a damp thread, it will discharge immediately. This shows that some materials are conductors and others are non-conductors or insulators of electricity, and that materials can be electrified through friction and transfer their electric charge to other materials. A charged conductor resting on a non-conductor retains its charge and is said to be insulated.
Experiment II.—Arrange two tea-trays, each on dry tumblers as before. Rub the sheet of ebonite with flannel, lay it face downwards on one tray, touch that tray with the finger for a moment and lift up the ebonite sheet, rub it again, and lay it face downwards on the second tray and leave it there. Then take two suspended gilt pith balls and touch them (a) both against one tray; they will be found to repel each other; (b) touch one against one tray and the other against the other tray, and they will be found to attract each other. This proves the existence of two kinds of electricity, called positive and negative. 241 The first tea-tray is positively electrified, and the second negatively. If an insulated brass ball is touched against the first tray and then against the knob or plate of the electroscope, the gold leaves will diverge. If the ball is discharged and touched against the other tray, and then afterwards against the previously charged electroscope, the leaves will collapse. This shows that the two electricities neutralize each other’s effect when imparted equally to the same conductor.
Experiment II.—Set up two tea trays, each on dry tumblers as before. Rub the ebonite sheet with flannel, place it face down on one tray, briefly touch that tray with your finger, then lift the ebonite sheet, rub it again, and lay it face down on the second tray and leave it there. Next, take two suspended gilt pith balls and touch them (a) both to one tray; they will repel each other; (b) touch one to one tray and the other to the second tray, and they will attract each other. This demonstrates the existence of two types of electricity, known as positive and negative. 241 The first tea tray is positively charged, and the second is negatively charged. If you touch an insulated brass ball to the first tray and then to the knob or plate of the electroscope, the gold leaves will spread apart. If the ball is discharged and touched to the second tray, and then afterwards to the previously charged electroscope, the leaves will come back together. This shows that the two electricities cancel each other out when imparted equally to the same conductor.
Experiment III.—Let one tray be insulated as before, and the electrified sheet of ebonite held over it, but not allowed to touch the tray. If the ebonite is withdrawn without touching the tray, the latter will be found to be unelectrified. If whilst holding the ebonite sheet over the tray the latter is also touched with an insulated brass ball, then this ball when removed and tested with the electroscope will be found to be negatively electrified. The sign of the electrification imparted to the electroscope when so charged—that is, whether positive or negative—can be determined by rubbing the sealing-wax rod with flannel and the glass rod with silk, and approaching them gently to the electroscope one at a time. The sealing-wax so treated is electrified negatively or resinously, and the glass with positive or vitreous electricity. Hence if the electrified sealing-wax rod makes the leaves collapse, the electroscopic charge is positive, but if the glass rod does the same, the electroscopic charge is negative. Again, if, whilst holding the electrified ebonite over the tray, we touch the latter for a moment and then withdraw the ebonite sheet, the tray will be found to be positively electrified. The electrified ebonite is said to act by “electrostatic induction” on the tray, and creates on it two induced charges, one of positive and the other of negative electricity. The last goes to earth when the tray is touched, and the first remains when the tray is insulated and the ebonite withdrawn.
Experiment III.—Insulate one tray as before, and hold the electrified ebonite sheet over it, making sure it doesn’t touch the tray. If you pull the ebonite away without touching the tray, the tray will be found to have no electric charge. If, while holding the ebonite sheet over the tray, you touch the tray with an insulated brass ball, that ball, when removed and tested with an electroscope, will be found to be negatively charged. You can determine whether the charge on the electroscope is positive or negative by rubbing a sealing-wax rod with flannel and a glass rod with silk, then gently bringing them close to the electroscope one at a time. The treated sealing-wax becomes negatively charged or resinously charged, while the glass becomes positively charged or vitreously charged. Therefore, if the electrified sealing-wax rod causes the leaves of the electroscope to collapse, the charge is positive, but if the glass rod does the same, the charge is negative. Also, if while holding the electrified ebonite over the tray, you touch the tray for a moment and then pull away the ebonite sheet, the tray will be found to be positively charged. The electrified ebonite is said to influence the tray through “electrostatic induction,” creating two induced charges on it: one positive and one negative. The negative charge goes to the ground when you touch the tray, and the positive charge remains when the tray is insulated and the ebonite is withdrawn.
Experiment IV.—Place a tin canister on a warm tumbler and connect it by a wire with the gold-leaf electroscope. Charge positively a brass ball held on an ebonite stem, and introduce it, without touching, into the canister. The leaves of the electroscope will diverge with positive electricity. Withdraw the ball and the leaves will collapse. Replace the ball again and touch the outside of the canister; the leaves will collapse. If then the ball be withdrawn, the leaves will diverge a second time with negative electrification. If, before withdrawing the ball, after touching the outside of the canister for a moment the ball is touched against the inside of the canister, then on withdrawing it the ball and canister are found to be discharged. This experiment proves that when a charged body acts by induction on an insulated conductor it causes an electrical separation to take place; electricity of opposite sign is drawn to the side nearest the inducing body, and that of like sign is repelled to the remote side, and these quantities are equal in amount.
Experiment IV.—Put a tin canister on a warm glass and connect it with a wire to the gold-leaf electroscope. Positively charge a brass ball that’s held on an ebonite stem, and introduce it into the canister without touching it. The leaves of the electroscope will spread apart due to positive electricity. Remove the ball, and the leaves will come back together. Put the ball back in and touch the outside of the canister; the leaves will collapse again. If you then take out the ball, the leaves will spread apart a second time with negative electricity. If, before removing the ball after touching the outside of the canister for a moment, you touch the inside of the canister with the ball, then when you pull it out, both the ball and the canister will be discharged. This experiment shows that when a charged object induces a response in an insulated conductor, it causes an electrical separation; electricity with the opposite charge moves to the side closest to the charged object, while like charge is pushed to the far side, and these amounts are equal.
Seat of the Electric Charge.—So far we have spoken of electric charge as if it resided on the conductors which are electrified. The work of Benjamin Franklin, Henry Cavendish, Michael Faraday and J. Clerk Maxwell demonstrated, however, that all electric charge or electrification of conductors consists simply in the establishment of a physical state in the surrounding insulator or dielectric, which state is variously called electric strain, electric displacement or electric polarization. Under the action of the same or identical electric forces the intensity of this state in various insulators is determined by a quality of them called their dielectric constant, specific inductive capacity or inductivity. In the next place we must notice that electrification is a measurable magnitude and in electrostatics is estimated in terms of a unit called the electrostatic unit of electric quantity. In the absolute C.G.S. system this unit quantity is defined as follows:—If we consider a very small electrified spherical conductor, experiment shows that it exerts a repulsive force upon another similar and similarly electrified body. Cavendish and C.A. Coulomb proved that this mechanical force varies inversely as the square of the distance between the centres of the spheres. The unit of mechanical force in the “centimetre, gramme, second” (C.G.S.) system of units is the dyne, which is approximately equal to 1/981 part of the weight of one gramme. A very small sphere is said then to possess a charge of one electrostatic unit of quantity, when it repels another similar and similarly electrified body with a force of one dyne, the centres being at a distance of one centimetre, provided that the spheres are in vacuo or immersed in some insulator, the dielectric constant of which is taken as unity. If the two small conducting spheres are placed with centres at a distance d centimetres, and immersed in an insulator of dielectric constant K, and carry charges of Q and Q′ electrostatic units respectively, measured as above described, then the mechanical force between them is equal to QQ′/Kd² dynes. For constant charges and distances the mechanical force is inversely as the dielectric constant.
Seat of the Electric Charge.—Up until now, we've talked about electric charge as if it exists solely on the electrified conductors. However, the work of Benjamin Franklin, Henry Cavendish, Michael Faraday, and J. Clerk Maxwell showed that all electric charge or electrification of conductors is simply about creating a physical state in the surrounding insulator or dielectric. This state is known as electric strain, electric displacement, or electric polarization. When the same electric forces are applied, the intensity of this state in different insulators is determined by a property called the dielectric constant, specific inductive capacity, or inductivity. It's also important to note that electrification is measurable and is quantified in electrostatics using a unit called the electrostatic unit of electric quantity. In the absolute C.G.S. system, this unit is defined as follows: If we take a tiny electrified spherical conductor, experiments indicate it exerts a repulsive force on another similar and similarly electrified object. Cavendish and C.A. Coulomb demonstrated that this mechanical force varies inversely with the square of the distance between the centers of the spheres. The unit of mechanical force in the “centimetre, gramme, second” (C.G.S.) system is the dyne, which is roughly equal to 1/981 of the weight of one gram. A very small sphere is said to have a charge of one electrostatic unit of quantity when it repels another similar and similarly electrified object with a force of one dyne, at a distance of one centimetre between their centers, provided the spheres are in vacuo or placed in some insulator with a dielectric constant taken as unity. If the two small conducting spheres are positioned with their centers at a distance of d centimeters and are immersed in an insulator with a dielectric constant K, carrying charges of Q and Q′ electrostatic units respectively, then the mechanical force between them is equal to QQ′/Kd² dynes. For constant charges and distances, the mechanical force is inversely related to the dielectric constant.
Electric Force.—If a small conducting body is charged with Q electrostatic units of electricity, and placed in any electric field at a point where the electric force has a value E, it will be subject to a mechanical force equal to QE dynes, tending to move it in the direction of the resultant electric force. This provides us with a definition of a unit of electric force, for it is the strength of an electric field at that point where a small conductor carrying a unit charge is acted upon by unit mechanical force, assuming the dielectric constant of the surrounding medium to be unity. To avoid unnecessary complications we shall assume this latter condition in all the following discussion, which is equivalent simply to assuming that all our electrical measurements are made in air or in vacuo.
Electric Force.—If a small conductive object carries Q electrostatic units of electricity and is placed in any electric field at a point where the electric force is E, it will experience a mechanical force equal to QE dynes, which will try to move it in the direction of the overall electric force. This gives us a definition of a unit of electric force, which is the strength of an electric field at that point where a small conductor with a unit charge is affected by a unit mechanical force, assuming the dielectric constant of the surrounding medium is one. To keep things simple, we will assume this condition for all the following discussions, which essentially means that all our electrical measurements are taken in air or in vacuo.
Owing to the confusion introduced by the employment of the term force, Maxwell and other writers sometimes use the words electromotive intensity instead of electric force. The reader should, however, notice that what is generally called electric force is the analogue in electricity of the so-called acceleration of gravity in mechanics, whilst electrification or quantity of electricity is analogous to mass. If a mass of M grammes be placed in the earth’s field at a place where the acceleration of gravity has a value g centimetres per second, then the mechanical force acting on it and pulling it downwards is Mg dynes. In the same manner, if an electrified body carries a positive charge Q electrostatic units and is placed in an electric field at a place where the electric force or electromotive intensity has a value E units, it is urged in the direction of the electric force with a mechanical force equal to QE dynes. We must, however, assume that the charge Q is so small that it does not sensibly disturb the original electric field, and that the dielectric constant of the insulator is unity.
Due to the confusion caused by using the term "force," Maxwell and other authors sometimes refer to it as electromotive intensity instead of electric force. The reader should, however, note that what we usually call electric force is similar to the acceleration of gravity in mechanics, while electrification or the amount of electricity is comparable to mass. If a mass of M grams is placed in the Earth's gravitational field where the acceleration due to gravity is g centimeters per second, then the mechanical force acting on it pulling it down is Mg dynes. Similarly, if an electrified body has a positive charge Q electrostatic units and is placed in an electric field where the electric force or electromotive intensity has a value E units, it is pushed in the direction of the electric force with a mechanical force equal to QE dynes. However, we must assume that the charge Q is small enough that it doesn’t significantly disturb the original electric field, and that the dielectric constant of the insulator is one.
Faraday introduced the important and useful conception of lines and tubes of electric force. If we consider a very small conductor charged with a unit of positive electricity to be placed in an electric field, it will move or tend to move under the action of the electric force in a certain direction. The path described by it when removed from the action of gravity and all other physical forces is called a line of electric force. We may otherwise define it by saying that a line of electric force is a line so drawn in a field of electric force that its direction coincides at every point with the resultant electric force at that point. Let any line drawn in an electric field be divided up into small elements of length. We can take the sum of all the products of the length of each element by the resolved part of the electric force in its direction. This sum, or integral, is called the “line integral of electric force” or the electromotive force (E.M.F.) along this line. In some cases the value of this electromotive force between two points or conductors is independent of the precise path selected, and it is then called the potential difference (P.D.) of the two points or conductors. We may define the term potential difference otherwise by saying that it is the work done in carrying a small conductor charged with one unit of electricity from one point to the other in a direction opposite to that in which it would move under the electric forces if left to itself.
Faraday introduced the important and useful concept of lines and tubes of electric force. If we take a very small conductor charged with a unit of positive electricity and place it in an electric field, it will move or tend to move in the direction of the electric force. The path it takes, when unaffected by gravity or any other physical forces, is called a line of electric force. We can also define it by saying that a line of electric force is a line drawn in an electric field so that its direction matches the resultant electric force at every point along that line. Let any line in an electric field be divided into small segments. We can calculate the sum of all the products of the length of each segment multiplied by the component of the electric force in its direction. This sum, or integral, is known as the “line integral of electric force” or the electromotive force (E.M.F.) along this line. In some cases, the value of this electromotive force between two points or conductors does not depend on the exact path taken, and it is referred to as the potential difference (P.D.) between the two points or conductors. We can also define potential difference as the work done in moving a small conductor charged with one unit of electricity from one point to another against the direction it would normally move under the influence of the electric forces.
Electric Potential.—Suppose then that we have a conductor charged with electricity; we may imagine its surface to be divided up into small unequal areas, each of which carries a unit charge of electricity. If we consider lines of electric force to be drawn from the boundaries of these areas, they will cut up the space round the conductor into tubular surfaces called tubes of electric 242 force, and each tube will spring from an area of the conductor carrying a unit electric charge. Hence the charge on the conductor can be measured by the number of unit electric tubes springing from it. In the next place we may consider the charged body to be surrounded by a number of closed surfaces, such that the potential difference between any point on one surface and the earth is the same. These surfaces are called “equipotential” or “level surfaces,” and we may so locate them that the potential difference between two adjacent surfaces is one unit of potential; that is, it requires one absolute unit of work (1 erg) to move a small body charged with one unit of electricity from one surface to the next. These enclosing surfaces, therefore, cut up the space into shells of potential, and divide up the tubes of force into electric cells. The surface of a charged conductor is an equipotential surface, because when the electric charge is in equilibrium there is no tendency for electricity to move from one part to the other.
Electric Potential.—Let's say we have a conductor charged with electricity; we can imagine its surface divided into small, uneven areas, each carrying a unit charge of electricity. If we draw lines of electric force from the edges of these areas, they'll divide the space around the conductor into tubular surfaces called tubes of electric 242 force, with each tube originating from an area of the conductor that holds a unit electric charge. Therefore, we can measure the charge on the conductor based on the number of unit electric tubes extending from it. Next, we can think of the charged body as being surrounded by several closed surfaces, such that the potential difference between any point on one surface and the ground remains constant. These surfaces are known as “equipotential” or “level surfaces,” and we can position them in such a way that the potential difference between two adjacent surfaces is one unit of potential; that is, it takes one absolute unit of work (1 erg) to move a small body charged with one unit of electricity from one surface to the next. Consequently, these enclosing surfaces break the space into shells of potential and separate the tubes of force into electric cells. The surface of a charged conductor is an equipotential surface because, when the electric charge is in equilibrium, there’s no tendency for electricity to flow from one part to another.
We arbitrarily call the potential of the earth zero, since all potential difference is relative and there is no absolute potential any more than absolute level. We call the difference of potential between a charged conductor and the earth the potential of the conductor. Hence when a body is charged positively its potential is raised above that of the earth, and when negatively it is lowered beneath that of the earth. Potential in a certain sense is to electricity as difference of level is to liquids or difference of temperature to heat. It must be noted, however, that potential is a mere mathematical concept, and has no objective existence like difference of level, nor is it capable per se of producing physical changes in bodies, such as those which are brought about by rise of temperature, apart from any question of difference of temperature. There is, however, this similarity between them. Electricity tends to flow from places of high to places of low potential, water to flow down hill, and heat to move from places of high to places of low temperature. Returning to the case of the charged body with the space around it cut up into electric cells by the tubes of force and shells of potential, it is obvious that the number of these cells is represented by the product QV, where Q is the charge and V the potential of the body in electrostatic units. An electrified conductor is a store of energy, and from the definition of potential it is clear that the work done in increasing the charge q of a conductor whose potential is v by a small amount dq, is vdq, and since this added charge increases in turn the potential, it is easy to prove that the work done in charging a conductor with Q units to a potential V units is ½QV units of work. Accordingly the number of electric cells into which the space round is cut up is equal to twice the energy stored up, or each cell contains half a unit of energy. This harmonizes with the fact that the real seat of the energy of electrification is the dielectric or insulator surrounding the charged conductor.1
We arbitrarily set the earth's potential as zero, since all potential differences are relative and there's no absolute potential, just like there's no absolute level. We refer to the difference in potential between a charged conductor and the earth as the potential of the conductor. So, when a body is positively charged, its potential is higher than that of the earth, and when negatively charged, it's lower. In a way, potential in electricity is similar to how the difference in level relates to liquids or the difference in temperature relates to heat. However, it's important to note that potential is simply a mathematical concept and doesn’t exist objectively like the difference in level, nor can it cause physical changes in bodies by itself, unlike changes caused by temperature differences. There is a similarity, though: electricity tends to flow from areas of high potential to low potential, like water flows downhill, and heat moves from hotter to cooler areas. In the case of a charged body with the surrounding space divided into electric cells by force tubes and potential shells, it's clear that the number of these cells is represented by the product QV, where Q is the charge and V is the potential of the body in electrostatic units. An electrified conductor stores energy, and from the definition of potential, we can see that the work done to increase the charge q of a conductor at potential v by a small amount dq is vdq. Since this added charge increases the potential in turn, it's straightforward to demonstrate that the work done in charging a conductor with Q units to a potential of V units is ½QV units of work. Therefore, the number of electric cells the space is divided into is equal to twice the energy stored, meaning each cell contains half a unit of energy. This aligns with the fact that the true source of the energy of electrification is the dielectric or insulator surrounding the charged conductor.1
We have next to notice three important facts in electrostatics and some consequences flowing therefrom.
We should now take note of three important facts in electrostatics and some consequences that come from them.
(i) Electrical Equilibrium and Potential.—If there be any number of charged conductors in a field, the electrification on them being in equilibrium or at rest, the surface of each conductor is an equipotential surface. For since electricity tends to move between points or conductors at different potentials, if the electricity is at rest on them the potential must be everywhere the same. It follows from this that the electric force at the surface of the conductor has no component along the surface, in other words, the electric force at the bounding surface of the conductor and insulator is everywhere at right angles to it.
(i) Electrical Equilibrium and Potential.—When you have any number of charged conductors in a field, and the electric charge on them is balanced or at rest, the surface of each conductor is an equipotential surface. Since electricity tends to flow between points or conductors that have different potentials, if the electricity is stable on them, the potential must be the same everywhere. This means that the electric force at the surface of the conductor doesn't have any component along the surface; in other words, the electric force at the boundary of the conductor and insulator is always at a right angle to it.
By the surface density of electrification on a conductor is meant the charge per unit of area, or the number of tubes of electric force which spring from unit area of its surface. Coulomb proved experimentally that the electric force just outside a conductor at any point is proportional to the electric density at that point. It can be shown that the resultant electric force normal to the surface at a point just outside a conductor is equal to 4πσ, where σ is the surface density at that point. This is usually called Coulomb’s Law.2
By the surface density of electrification on a conductor, we mean the charge per unit area, or the number of lines of electric force that emerge from a unit area of its surface. Coulomb experimentally demonstrated that the electric force just outside a conductor at any point is proportional to the electric density at that spot. It can be shown that the total electric force perpendicular to the surface at a point just outside a conductor equals 4πσ, where σ is the surface density at that point. This is commonly referred to as Coulomb’s Law.2
(ii) Seat of Charge.—The charge on an electrified conductor is wholly on the surface, and there is no electric force in the interior of a closed electrified conducting surface which does not contain any other electrified bodies. Faraday proved this experimentally (see Experimental Researches, series xi. § 1173) by constructing a large chamber or box of paper covered with tinfoil or thin metal. This was insulated and highly electrified. In the interior no trace of electric charge could be found when tested by electroscopes or other means. Cavendish proved it by enclosing a metal sphere in two hemispheres of thin metal held on insulating supports. If the sphere is charged and then the jacketing hemispheres fitted on it and removed, the sphere is found to be perfectly discharged.3 Numerous other demonstrations of this fact were given by Faraday. The thinnest possible spherical shell of metal, such as a sphere of insulator coated with gold-leaf, behaves as a conductor for static charge just as if it were a sphere of solid metal. The fact that there is no electric force in the interior of such a closed electrified shell is one of the most certainly ascertained facts in the science of electrostatics, and it enables us to demonstrate at once that particles of electricity attract and repel each other with a force which is inversely as the square of their distance.
(ii) Seat of Charge.—The charge on an electrified conductor is entirely on the surface, and there is no electric force inside a closed electrified conducting surface that doesn’t contain any other charged objects. Faraday demonstrated this experimentally (see Experimental Researches, series xi. § 1173) by building a large chamber or box made of paper covered with tinfoil or thin metal. This was insulated and highly charged. Inside, no trace of electric charge could be detected when tested with electroscopes or other methods. Cavendish confirmed it by enclosing a metal sphere with two hemispheres of thin metal resting on insulating supports. If the sphere is charged and then the outer hemispheres are applied to it and then removed, the sphere is found to be completely discharged. 3 Many other demonstrations of this principle were provided by Faraday. The thinnest possible spherical shell of metal, like a sphere of insulating material coated with gold-leaf, acts as a conductor for static charge just like a solid metal sphere. The fact that there is no electric force inside such a closed electrified shell is one of the most confirmed facts in electrostatics, and it allows us to show right away that particles of electricity attract and repel each other with a force that is inversely proportional to the square of their distance.
We may give in the first place an elementary proof of the converse proposition by the aid of a simple lemma:—
We can start with a basic proof of the opposite statement using a straightforward lemma:—
Lemma.—If particles of matter attract one another according to the law of the inverse square the attraction of all sections of a cone for a particle at the vertex is the same. Definition.—The solid angle subtended by any surface at a point is measured by the quotient of its apparent surface by the square of its distance from that point. Hence the total solid angle round any point is 4π. The solid angles subtended by all normal sections of a cone at the vertex are therefore equal, and since the attractions of these sections on a particle at the vertex are proportional to their distances from the vertex, they are numerically equal to one another and to the solid angle of the cone.
Lemma.—If particles of matter attract each other according to the law of the inverse square, the attraction of all sections of a cone for a particle at the vertex is the same. Definition.—The solid angle formed by any surface at a point is measured by the ratio of its apparent surface to the square of its distance from that point. Therefore, the total solid angle around any point is 4π. The solid angles formed by all normal sections of a cone at the vertex are equal, and since the attractions of these sections on a particle at the vertex are proportional to their distances from the vertex, they are numerically equal to each other and to the solid angle of the cone.
![]() |
Fig. 1. |
Let us then suppose a spherical shell O to be electrified. Select any point P in the interior and let a line drawn through it sweep out a small double cone (see fig. 1). Each cone cuts out an area on the surface equally inclined to the cone axis. The electric density on the sphere being uniform, the quantities of electricity on these areas are proportional to the areas, and if the electric force varies inversely as the square of the distance, the forces exerted by these two surface charges at the point in question are proportional to the solid angle of the little cone. Hence the forces due to the two areas at opposite ends of the chord are equal and opposed.
Let’s suppose a spherical shell O is electrically charged. Pick any point P inside it and draw a line through it that creates a small double cone (see fig. 1). Each cone cuts out an area on the surface that’s equally angled to the cone's axis. Since the electric density on the sphere is uniform, the amounts of electricity on these areas are proportional to the areas. If the electric force changes inversely with the square of the distance, then the forces exerted by these two surface charges at the point we’re looking at are proportional to the solid angle of the small cone. Therefore, the forces from the two areas at opposite ends of the chord are equal and opposite.
Hence we see that if the whole surface of the sphere is divided into pairs of elements by cones described through any interior point, the resultant force at that point must consist of the sum of pairs of equal and opposite forces, and is therefore zero. For the proof of the converse proposition we must refer the reader to the Electrical Researches of the Hon. Henry Cavendish, p. 419, or to Maxwell’s Treatise on Electricity and Magnetism, 2nd ed., vol. i. p. 76, where Maxwell gives an elegant proof that if the force in the interior of a closed conductor is zero, the law of the force must be that of the inverse square of the distance.4 From this fact it follows that we can shield any conductor entirely from external influence by other charged conductors by enclosing it in a metal case. It is not even necessary that 243 this envelope should be of solid metal; a cage made of fine metal wire gauze which permits objects in its interior to be seen will yet be a perfect electrical screen for them. Electroscopes and electrometers, therefore, standing in proximity to electrified bodies can be perfectly shielded from influence by enclosing them in cylinders of metal gauze.
So, we see that when the entire surface of a sphere is divided into pairs of elements by cones drawn through any point inside, the resulting force at that point must be the sum of pairs of equal and opposite forces, which means it is zero. For proof of the opposite statement, we direct the reader to the Electrical Researches of the Hon. Henry Cavendish, p. 419, or to Maxwell’s Treatise on Electricity and Magnetism, 2nd ed., vol. i. p. 76, where Maxwell provides a clear demonstration that if the force inside a closed conductor is zero, the law of the force must follow the inverse square of the distance.4 From this, it follows that we can completely shield any conductor from outside influences by surrounding it with a metal case. It’s not even necessary for this covering to be solid metal; a cage made of fine metal wire mesh that allows objects inside to be visible can still serve as a perfect electrical shield for them. Therefore, electroscopes and electrometers placed near electrified objects can be completely protected from their influence by enclosing them in metal mesh cylinders.
Even if a charged and insulated conductor, such as an open canister or deep cup, is not perfectly closed, it will be found that a proof-plane consisting of a small disk of gilt paper carried at the end of a rod of gum-lac will not bring away any charge if applied to the deep inside portions. In fact it is curious to note how large an opening may be made in a vessel which yet remains for all electrical purposes “a closed conductor.” Maxwell (Elementary Treatise, &c., p. 15) ingeniously applied this fact to the insulation of conductors. If we desire to insulate a metal ball to make it hold a charge of electricity, it is usual to do so by attaching it to a handle or stem of glass or ebonite. In this case the electric charge exists at the point where the stem is attached, and there leakage by creeping takes place. If, however, we employ a hollow sphere and let the stem pass through a hole in the side larger than itself, and attach the end to the interior of the sphere, then leakage cannot take place.
Even if a charged and insulated conductor, like an open canister or deep cup, isn’t perfectly closed, you’ll find that a proof-plane made of a small disk of gilt paper attached to a rod of gum-lac won’t take away any charge if it's applied to the deep inside areas. It's interesting to see how large an opening can be in a container while still acting as “a closed conductor” for all electrical purposes. Maxwell (Elementary Treatise, &c., p. 15) cleverly applied this idea to the insulation of conductors. To insulate a metal ball so it can hold a charge of electricity, it's common to attach it to a handle or stem made of glass or ebonite. In this situation, the electric charge is at the point where the stem connects, and that’s where leakage by creeping occurs. However, if we use a hollow sphere and let the stem pass through a hole in the side that’s larger than itself, attaching the end to the inside of the sphere, then leakage cannot happen.
Another corollary of the fact that there is no electric force in the interior of a charged conductor is that the potential in the interior is constant and equal to that at the surface. For by the definition of potential it follows that the electric force in any direction at any point is measured by the space rate of change of potential in that direction or E = ± dV/dx. Hence if the force is zero the potential V must be constant.
Another consequence of the fact that there is no electric force inside a charged conductor is that the potential inside is constant and equal to the potential at the surface. According to the definition of potential, the electric force in any direction at any point is determined by how quickly the potential changes in that direction, or E = ± dV/dx. Therefore, if the force is zero, the potential V must be constant.
(iii.) Association of Positive and Negative Electricities.—The third leading fact in electrostatics is that positive and negative electricity are always created in equal quantities, and that for every charge, say, of positive electricity on one conductor there must exist on some other bodies an equal total charge of negative electricity. Faraday expressed this fact by saying that no absolute electric charge could be given to matter. If we consider the charge of a conductor to be measured by the number of tubes of electric force which proceed from it, then, since each tube must end on some other conductor, the above statement is equivalent to saying that the charges at each end of a tube of electric force are equal.
(iii.) Association of Positive and Negative Electricities.—The third key fact in electrostatics is that positive and negative electricity are always produced in equal amounts. This means that for every charge of positive electricity on one conductor, there must be an equal total charge of negative electricity on some other bodies. Faraday described this idea by saying that no absolute electric charge can be assigned to matter. If we think of a conductor's charge as being measured by the number of electric force tubes coming from it, then since each tube must connect to another conductor, this statement means that the charges at both ends of a tube of electric force are equal.
The facts may, however, best be understood and demonstrated by considering an experiment due to Faraday, commonly called the ice pail experiment, because he employed for it a pewter ice pail (Exp. Res. vol. ii. p. 279, or Phil. Mag. 1843, 22). On the plate of a gold-leaf electroscope place a metal canister having a loose lid. Let a metal ball be suspended by a silk thread, and the canister lid so fixed to the thread that when the lid is in place the ball hangs in the centre of the canister. Let the ball and lid be removed by the silk, and let a charge, say, of positive electricity (+Q) be given to the ball. Let the canister be touched with the finger to discharge it perfectly. Then let the ball be lowered into the canister. It will be found that as it does so the gold-leaves of the electroscope diverge, but collapse again if the ball is withdrawn. If the ball is lowered until the lid is in place, the leaves take a steady deflection. Next let the canister be touched with the finger, the leaves collapse, but diverge again when the ball is withdrawn. A test will show that in this last case the canister is left negatively electrified. If before the ball is withdrawn, after touching the outside of the canister with the finger, the ball is tilted over to make it touch the inside of the canister, then on withdrawing it the canister and ball are found to be perfectly discharged. The explanation is as follows: the charge (+Q) of positive electricity on the ball creates by induction an equal charge (−Q) on the inside of the canister when placed in it, and repels to the exterior surface of the canister an equal charge (+Q). On touching the canister this last charge goes to earth. Hence when the ball is touched against the inside of the canister before withdrawing it a second time, the fact that the system is found subsequently to be completely discharged proves that the charge − Q induced on the inside of the canister must be exactly equal to the charge +Q on the ball, and also that the inducing action of the charge +Q on the ball created equal quantities of electricity of opposite sign, one drawn to the inside and the other repelled to the outside of the canister.
The facts can be better understood and shown by looking at an experiment by Faraday, often called the ice pail experiment because he used a pewter ice pail for it (Exp. Res. vol. ii. p. 279, or Phil. Mag. 1843, 22). Place a metal canister with a loose lid on the plate of a gold-leaf electroscope. Suspend a metal ball with a silk thread, fixing the canister lid to the thread so that when the lid is on, the ball hangs in the center of the canister. Remove the ball and lid using the silk thread, then give the ball a charge, say, of positive electricity (+Q). Touch the canister with your finger to discharge it fully. Then lower the ball into the canister. You'll see that as it goes in, the gold leaves of the electroscope spread apart, but they relax again if the ball is pulled out. If the ball is lowered until the lid is in place, the leaves will stay deflected. Next, touch the canister with your finger again; the leaves collapse but spread apart again when you pull the ball out. A test will reveal that in this case, the canister is negatively charged. If, before pulling the ball out and after touching the outside of the canister, you tilt the ball to touch the inside of the canister, when you pull it out, the canister and ball will be found completely discharged. The explanation is as follows: the positive charge (+Q) on the ball induces an equal negative charge (−Q) on the inside of the canister when it’s placed inside it and pushes an equal positive charge (+Q) to the outside surface of the canister. When you touch the canister, this last charge goes to the ground. Therefore, when the ball is touched against the inside of the canister before pulling it out a second time, the fact that the system is found to be completely discharged afterward shows that the induced charge −Q on the inside of the canister must exactly equal the charge +Q on the ball, and also that the inducing action of the charge +Q on the ball created equal amounts of electricity of opposite signs, one drawn to the inside and the other pushed to the outside of the canister.
Electrical Capacity.—We must next consider the quality of a conductor called its electrical capacity. The potential of a conductor has already been defined as the mechanical work which must be done to bring up a very small body charged with a unit of positive electricity from the earth’s surface or other boundary taken as the place of zero potential to the surface of this conductor in question. The mathematical expression for this potential can in some cases be calculated or predetermined.
Electrical Capacity.—Next, we need to look at a conductor's quality known as its electrical capacity. The potential of a conductor has already been defined as the mechanical work required to move a very small object charged with a unit of positive electricity from the earth's surface, or another boundary considered to be zero potential, to the surface of the conductor in question. In some cases, the mathematical expression for this potential can be calculated or predetermined.
Thus, consider a sphere uniformly charged with Q units of positive electricity. It is a fundamental theorem in attractions that a thin spherical shell of matter which attracts according to the law of the inverse square acts on all external points as Potential of a sphere. if it were concentrated at its centre. Hence a sphere having a charge Q repels a unit charge placed at a distance x from its centre with a force Q/x² dynes, and therefore the work W in ergs expended in bringing the unit up to that point from an infinite distance is given by the integral
Thus, consider a sphere that has a uniform charge of Q units of positive electricity. It's a basic principle of attraction that a thin spherical shell of matter, which attracts based on the law of the inverse square, acts on all outside points as if it were concentrated at its center. Therefore, a sphere with a charge Q repels a unit charge placed at a distance x from its center with a force of Q/x² dynes. The work W, measured in ergs, required to bring the unit charge from an infinite distance to that point is given by the integral.
W = ∫x∞ Qx−2dx = Q/x
W = ∫x∞ Qx−2dx = Q/x
Hence the potential at the surface of the sphere, and therefore the potential of the sphere, is Q/R, where R is the radius of the sphere in centimetres. The quantity of electricity which must be given to the sphere to raise it to unit potential is therefore R electrostatic units. The capacity of a conductor is defined to be the charge required to raise its potential to unity, all other charged conductors being at an infinite distance. This capacity is then a function of the geometrical dimensions of the conductor, and can be mathematically determined in certain cases. Since the potential of a small charge of electricity dQ at a distance r is equal to dQ/r, and since the potential of all parts of a conductor is the same in those cases in which the distribution of surface density of electrification is uniform or symmetrical with respect to some point or axis in the conductor, we can calculate the potential by simply summing up terms like σdS/r, where dS is an element of surface, σ the surface density of electricity on it, and r the distance from the symmetrical centre. The capacity is then obtained as the quotient of the whole charge by this potential. Thus the distribution of electricity on a sphere in free space must be uniform, and all parts of the charge are at an Capacity of a sphere. equal distance R from the centre. Accordingly the potential at the centre is Q/R. But this must be the potential of the sphere, since all parts are at the same potential V. Since the capacity C is the ratio of charge to potential, the capacity of the sphere in free space is Q/V = R, or is numerically the same as its radius reckoned in centimetres.
Therefore, the potential at the surface of the sphere, and thus the potential of the sphere, is Q/R, where R is the radius of the sphere in centimeters. The amount of electricity needed to raise the sphere to unit potential is therefore R electrostatic units. The capacity of a conductor is defined as the charge necessary to bring its potential to unity, with all other charged conductors considered to be at an infinite distance. This capacity is a function of the physical dimensions of the conductor and can be mathematically determined in certain situations. Since the potential of a small charge of electricity dQ at a distance r is equal to dQ/r, and since the potential of all parts of a conductor is the same in cases where the distribution of surface density of electrification is uniform or symmetrical with respect to a point or axis in the conductor, we can calculate the potential by summing terms like σdS/r, where dS is an element of surface, σ is the surface density of electricity on it, and r is the distance from the symmetrical center. The capacity is then obtained as the total charge divided by this potential. Thus, the distribution of electricity on a sphere in free space must be uniform, and all parts of the charge are at an equal distance R from the center. Therefore, the potential at the center is Q/R. But this must also represent the potential of the sphere, since all parts are at the same potential V. Since the capacity C is the ratio of charge to potential, the capacity of the sphere in free space is Q/V = R, or is numerically the same as its radius measured in centimeters.
We can thus easily calculate the capacity of a long thin wire like a telegraph wire far removed from the earth, as follows: Let 2r be the diameter of the wire, l its length, and σ the uniform Capacity of a thin rod. surface electric density. Then consider a thin annulus of the wire of width dx; the charge on it is equal to 2πrσ/dx units, and the potential V at a point on the axis at a distance x from the annulus due to this elementary charge is
We can easily calculate the capacity of a long, thin wire, like a telegraph wire far from the earth, as follows: Let 2r be the diameter of the wire, l its length, and σ the uniform Thin rod capacity. surface electric density. Now, consider a thin ring of the wire with a width of dx; the charge on it is equal to 2πrσ/dx units, and the potential V at a point on the axis at a distance x from the ring due to this small charge is
V = 2 ∫ l/2 0 | 2πrσ | dx = 4πrσ { loge(½l + √r² + ¼l²) − loger}. |
√(r² + x²) |
If, then, r is small compared with l, we have V = 4πrσloge l/r. But the charge is Q = 2πrσ, and therefore the capacity of the thin wire is given by
If r is small compared to l, we have V = 4πrσloge l/r. But the charge is Q = 2πrσ, so the capacity of the thin wire is given by
C = ½ loge l/r
C = ½ log_e(l/r)
A more difficult case is presented by the ellipsoid5. We have first to determine the mode in which electricity distributes itself on a conducting ellipsoid in free space. It must be such a distribution that the potential in the interior will be Potential of an ellipsoid. constant, since the electric force must be zero. It is a well-known theorem in attractions that if a shell is made of gravitative matter whose inner and outer surfaces are similar ellipsoids, it exercises no attraction on a particle of matter in its interior6. Consider then an ellipsoidal shell the axes of whose bounding surfaces are (a, b, c) and (a + da), (b + db), (c + dc), where da/a = db/b = dc/c = μ. The potential of such a shell at any internal point is constant, and the equipotential surfaces for external space are ellipsoids confocal with the ellipsoidal shell. Hence if we distribute electricity over an ellipsoid, so that its density is everywhere proportional to the thickness of a shell formed by describing round 244 the ellipsoid a similar and slightly larger one, that distribution will be in equilibrium and will produce a constant potential throughout the interior. Thus if σ is the surface density, δ the thickness of the shell at any point, and ρ the assumed volume density of the matter of the shell, we have σ = Aδρ. Then the quantity of electricity on any element of surface dS is A times the mass of the corresponding element of the shell; and if Q is the whole quantity of electricity on the ellipsoid, Q = A times the whole mass of the shell. This mass is equal to 4πabcρμ; therefore Q = A4πabcρμ and δ = μp, where p is the length of the perpendicular let fall from the centre of the ellipsoid on the tangent plane. Hence
A more complex case is presented by the ellipsoid5. We first need to figure out how electricity distributes itself on a conducting ellipsoid in free space. The distribution must be such that the potential inside remains constant since the electric force must be zero. It’s a well-known principle that if a shell is made of gravitational matter with inner and outer surfaces that are similar ellipsoids, it does not attract a particle of matter within its interior6. Now, consider an ellipsoidal shell with axes of its outer surfaces being (a, b, c) and (a + da), (b + db), (c + dc), where da/a = db/b = dc/c = μ. The potential of such a shell at any internal point is constant, and the equipotential surfaces in external space are ellipsoids that share the same focal points as the ellipsoidal shell. Therefore, if we distribute electricity over an ellipsoid, making the density proportional to the thickness of a shell formed by slightly enlarging the ellipsoid, that distribution will be in equilibrium and will maintain a constant potential throughout the interior. If σ represents the surface density, δ the thickness of the shell at any point, and ρ the assumed volume density of the matter in the shell, we have σ = Aδρ. The amount of electricity on any surface element dS is A multiplied by the mass of the corresponding element of the shell; thus, if Q is the total quantity of electricity on the ellipsoid, then Q = A times the total mass of the shell. This mass equals 4πabcρμ; therefore, Q = A4πabcρμ and δ = μp, where p is the length of the perpendicular dropped from the center of the ellipsoid onto the tangent plane. Hence
σ = Qp / 4πabc
σ = Qp / 4πabc
Accordingly for a given ellipsoid the surface density of free distribution of electricity on it is everywhere proportional to the length of the perpendicular let fall from the centre on Capacity of an ellipsoid. the tangent plane at that point. From this we can determine the capacity of the ellipsoid as follows: Let p be the length of the perpendicular from the centre of the ellipsoid, whose equation is x²/a² + y²/b² + z²/c² = 1 to the tangent plane at x, y, z. Then it can be shown that 1/p² = x²/a4 + y²/b4 + z²/c4 (see Frost’s Solid Geometry, p. 172). Hence the density σ is given by
Accordingly, for a given ellipsoid, the surface density of freely distributed electricity on it is always proportional to the length of the perpendicular dropped from the center onto the tangent plane at that point. From this, we can determine the capacity of the ellipsoid as follows: Let p be the length of the perpendicular from the center of the ellipsoid, whose equation is x²/a² + y²/b² + z²/c² = 1, to the tangent plane at x, y, z. Then it can be shown that 1/p² = x²/a4 + y²/b4 + z²/c4 (see Frost’s Solid Geometry, p. 172). Hence the density σ is given by
σ = | Q | 1 | . | |
4πabc | √(x² / a4 + y² / b4 + z² / c4) |
and the potential at the centre of the ellipsoid, and therefore its potential as a whole is given by the expression,
and the potential at the center of the ellipsoid, and therefore its potential overall is represented by the expression,
V = ∫ | σdS | = | Q | ∫ | dS |
r | 4πabc | r √(x² / a4 + y² / b4 + z² / c4) |
Accordingly the capacity C of the ellipsoid is given by the equation
Accordingly, the volume C of the ellipsoid is described by the equation
1 | = | 1 | ∫ | dS |
C | 4πabc | √(x² + y² + z²) √(x² / a4 + y² / b4 + z² / c4) |
It has been shown by Professor Chrystal that the above integral may also be presented in the form,7
It has been shown by Professor Chrystal that the above integral can also be expressed as,7
1 | = ½ ∫∞0 | dλ |
C | √{(a² + λ) (b² + λ) (c² + λ)} |
The above expressions for the capacity of an ellipsoid of three unequal axes are in general elliptic integrals, but they can be evaluated for the reduced cases when the ellipsoid is one of revolution, and hence in the limit either takes the form of a long rod or of a circular disk.
The expressions above for the capacity of an ellipsoid with three unequal axes are generally elliptic integrals, but they can be calculated for the simpler cases when the ellipsoid is a revolution body, which means it either becomes a long rod or a circular disk in the limit.
Thus if the ellipsoid is one of revolution, and ds is an element of arc which sweeps out the element of surface dS, we have
Thus, if the ellipsoid is one of revolution, and ds is an arc element that creates the surface element dS, we have
dS = 2πyds = 2πydx / Please provide the text to be modernized. | dx | ) = 2πydx / ) | py | ) = | 2πb² | dx. |
ds | b | p |
Hence, since σ = Qp / 4πab², σdS = Qdx / 2a.
Hence, since σ = Qp / 4πab², σdS = Qdx / 2a.
Accordingly the distribution of electricity is such that equal parallel slices of the ellipsoid of revolution taken normal to the axis of revolution carry equal charges on their curved surface.
Accordingly, the distribution of electricity is such that equal parallel slices of the ellipsoid of revolution taken perpendicular to the axis of revolution carry equal charges on their curved surface.
The capacity C of the ellipsoid of revolution is therefore given by the expression
The capacity C of the ellipsoid of revolution is therefore given by the expression
1 | = | 1 | ∫ | dx |
C | 2a | √(x² + y²) |
If the ellipsoid is one of revolution round the major axis a (prolate) and of eccentricity e, then the above formula reduces to
If the ellipsoid is a revolution around the major axis a (prolate) and has eccentricity e, then the above formula simplifies to
1 | = | 1 | logε Please provide the text for modernization. | 1 + e | ) |
C1 | 2ae | 1 − e |
Whereas if it is an ellipsoid of revolution round the minor axis b (oblate), we have
Whereas if it's an ellipsoid of revolution around the minor axis b (oblate), we have
1 | = | sin−1ae |
C² | ae |
In each case we have C = a when e = 0, and the ellipsoid thus becomes a sphere.
In each case, we have C = a when e = 0, so the ellipsoid becomes a sphere.
In the extreme case when e = 1, the prolate ellipsoid becomes a long thin rod, and then the capacity is given by
In the extreme case when e = 1, the prolate ellipsoid turns into a long, thin rod, and then the capacity is given by
C1 = a / logε 2a/b
C1 = a / logε 2a/b
which is identical with the formula (2) already obtained. In the other extreme case the oblate spheroid becomes a circular disk when e = 1, and then the capacity C2 = 2a/π. This last result shows that the capacity of a thin disk is 2/π = 1/1.571 of that of a sphere of the same radius. Cavendish (Elec. Res. pp. 137 and 347) determined in 1773 experimentally that the capacity of a sphere was 1.541 times that of a disk of the same radius, a truly remarkable result for that date.
which is the same as the formula (2) already derived. In the other extreme case, the oblate spheroid turns into a circular disk when e = 1, and then the capacity C2 = 2a/π. This final result shows that the capacity of a thin disk is 2/π = 1/1.571 of that of a sphere with the same radius. Cavendish (Elec. Res. pp. 137 and 347) found experimentally in 1773 that the capacity of a sphere was 1.541 times that of a disk with the same radius, a truly impressive result for that time.
Three other cases of practical interest present themselves, viz. the capacity of two concentric spheres, of two coaxial cylinders and of two parallel planes.
Three other cases of practical interest arise, namely the capacity of two concentric spheres, two coaxial cylinders, and two parallel planes.
Consider the case of two concentric spheres, a solid one enclosed in a hollow one. Let R1 be the radius of the inner sphere, R2 the inside radius of the outer sphere, and R2 the outside radius of the outer spherical shell. Let a charge +Q be Capacity of two concentric spheres. given to the inner sphere. Then this produces a charge −Q on the inside of the enclosing spherical shell, and a charge +Q on the outside of the shell. Hence the potential V at the centre of the inner sphere is given by V = Q/R1 − Q/R2 + Q/R3. If the outer shell is connected to the earth, the charge +Q on it disappears, and we have the capacity C of the inner sphere given by
Consider the case of two concentric spheres, where a solid sphere is enclosed in a hollow one. Let R1 be the radius of the inner sphere, R2 be the inside radius of the outer sphere, and R3 be the outside radius of the outer spherical shell. If a charge of +Q is applied to the inner sphere, it creates a charge of −Q on the inside of the enclosing spherical shell, and a charge of +Q on the outside of the shell. Therefore, the potential V at the center of the inner sphere can be calculated as V = Q/R1 − Q/R2 + Q/R3. If the outer shell is grounded, the charge +Q on it will disappear, resulting in the capacity C of the inner sphere being given by
C = 1/R1 − 1/R2 = (R2 − R1) / R1R2
C = 1/R1 − 1/R2 = (R2 − R1) / R1R2
Such a pair of concentric spheres constitute a condenser (see Leyden Jar), and it is obvious that by making R2 nearly equal to R1, we may enormously increase the capacity of the inner sphere. Hence the name condenser.
Such a pair of concentric spheres forms a condenser (see Leyden Jar), and it’s clear that by making R2 almost equal to R1, we can greatly boost the capacity of the inner sphere. That’s why it’s called a condenser.
The other case of importance is that of two coaxial cylinders. Let a solid circular sectioned cylinder of radius R1 be enclosed in a coaxial tube of inner radius R2. Then when the inner Capacity of two coaxial cylinders. cylinder is at potential V1 and the outer one kept at potential V2 the lines of electric force between the cylinders are radial. Hence the electric force E in the interspace varies inversely as the distance from the axis. Accordingly the potential V at any point in the interspace is given by
The other important case is two coaxial cylinders. Imagine a solid cylinder with a circular cross-section and radius R1 enclosed in a coaxial tube with an inner radius R2. When the inner cylinder is at a potential V1 and the outer one is held at a potential V2, the electric field lines between the cylinders are radial. Therefore, the electric field E in the space between them varies inversely with the distance from the axis. As a result, the potential V at any point in the space between the cylinders is given by
E = −dV/dR = A/R or V = −A ∫ R−1 dR,
E = −dV/dR = A/R or V = −A ∫ R−1 dR,
where R is the distance of the point in the interspace from the axis, and A is a constant. Hence V2 − V1 = −A log R2/R1. If we consider a length l of the cylinder, the charge Q on the inner cylinder is Q = 2πR1lσ, where σ is the surface density, and by Coulomb’s law σ = E1/4π, where E1 = A/R1 is the force at the surface of the inner cylinder.
where R is the distance of the point in the space between from the axis, and A is a constant. Thus, V2 − V1 = −A log R2/R1. If we look at a length l of the cylinder, the charge Q on the inner cylinder is Q = 2πR1lσ, where σ is the surface density, and by Coulomb’s law σ = E1/4π, where E1 = A/R1 is the force at the surface of the inner cylinder.
Accordingly Q = 2πR1lA / 4πR1 = Al/2. If then the outer cylinder be at zero potential the potential V of the inner one is
Accordingly Q = 2πR1lA / 4πR1 = Al/2. If the outer cylinder is at zero potential, the potential V of the inner one is
V = A log (R2/R1), and its capacity C = l/2 log R2/R1.
V = A log (R2/R1), and its capacity C = 1/2 log R2/R1.
This formula is important in connexion with the capacity of electric cables, which consist of a cylindrical conductor (a wire) enclosed in a conducting sheath. If the dielectric or separating insulator has a constant K, then the capacity becomes K times as great.
This formula is important for understanding the capacity of electric cables, which consist of a cylindrical conductor (a wire) surrounded by a conducting sheath. If the dielectric or insulating material has a constant K, then the capacity increases by K times.
The capacity of two parallel planes can be calculated at once if we neglect the distribution of the lines of force near the edges of the plates, and assume that the only field is the uniform field Capacity of two parallel planes. between the plates. Let V1 and V2 be the potentials of the plates, and let a charge Q be given to one of them. If S is the surface of each plate, and d their distance, then the electric force E in the space between them is E = (V1 − V2)/d. But if σ is the surface density, E = 4πσ, and σ = Q/S. Hence we have
The capacity of two parallel plates can be calculated simultaneously if we ignore the distribution of the lines of force near the edges and assume that the only field present is the uniform field Capacity of two parallel planes. between the plates. Let V1 and V2 be the potentials of the plates, and let a charge Q be applied to one of them. If S is the surface area of each plate, and d is their separation, then the electric force E in the space between them is E = (V1 − V2)/d. However, if σ is the surface density, E = 4πσ, and σ = Q/S. Therefore, we have
(V1 − V2) d = 4πQ / S or C = Q / (V1 − V2) = S / 4πd
(V1 − V2) d = 4πQ / S or C = Q / (VKeep it. − V2) = S / 4πd
In this calculation we neglect altogether the fact that electric force distributed on curved lines exists outside the interspace between the plates, and these lines in fact extend from the back of one “Edge effect.” plate to that of the other. G.R. Kirchhoff (Gesammelte Abhandl. p. 112) has given a full expression for the capacity C of two circular plates of thickness t and radius r placed at any distance d apart in air from which the edge effect can be calculated. Kirchhoff’s expression is as follows:—
In this calculation, we completely ignore the fact that electric force is distributed along curved lines that exist outside the space between the plates, and these lines actually extend from the back of one "Edge effect." plate to the back of the other. G.R. Kirchhoff (Gesammelte Abhandl. p. 112) provided a comprehensive formula for the capacity C of two circular plates with a thickness t and radius r placed at a distance d apart in air, from which the edge effect can be determined. Kirchhoff's formula is as follows:—
C = | πr² | + | r | I'm sorry, but there doesn't seem to be any text to modernize in your message. Please provide the short phrases you'd like me to update. d logε | 16πr (d + t) | + t logε | d + t | { |
4πd | 4πd | εd² | t |
In the above formula ε is the base of the Napierian logarithms. The first term on the right-hand side of the equation is the expression for the capacity, neglecting the curved edge distribution of electric force, and the other terms take into account, not only the uniform field between the plates, but also the non-uniform field round the edges and beyond the plates.
In the formula above, ε represents the base of natural logarithms. The first term on the right side of the equation shows the capacity, ignoring the curved edge distribution of electric force. The other terms account for both the uniform field between the plates and the non-uniform field around the edges and beyond the plates.
In practice we can avoid the difficulty due to irregular distribution of electric force at the edges of the plate by the use of a guard plate as first suggested by Lord Kelvin.8 If a large plate has a circular hole cut in it, and this is nearly filled up by a Guard plates. circular plate lying in the same plane, and if we place another large plate parallel to the first, then the electric field between this second plate and the small circular plate is nearly uniform; and if S is the area of the small plate and d its distance from the opposed plate, its capacity may be calculated by the simple formula C = S / 4πd. The outer larger plate in which the hole is cut is called the “guard plate,” and must be kept at the same potential as the smaller inner or “trap-door plate.” The same arrangement can be supplied to a pair of coaxial cylinders. By placing metal plates on either side of a larger sheet of dielectric or insulator we can construct a condenser of relatively large capacity. The instrument known as a Leyden jar (q.v.) consists of a glass bottle coated within and without for three parts of the way up with tinfoil.
In practice, we can avoid the problem caused by the uneven distribution of electric force at the edges of the plate by using a guard plate, as first suggested by Lord Kelvin. If a large plate has a circular hole cut in it, and this hole is almost filled by a circular plate lying in the same plane, and if we place another large plate parallel to the first one, then the electric field between this second plate and the small circular plate is nearly uniform. If S is the area of the small plate and d is its distance from the opposite plate, its capacitance can be calculated using the simple formula C = S / 4πd. The outer larger plate with the hole cut in it is called the "guard plate," which must be kept at the same potential as the smaller inner "trap-door plate." The same setup can be applied to a pair of coaxial cylinders. By placing metal plates on either side of a larger sheet of dielectric or insulator, we can create a condenser with a relatively large capacity. The instrument known as a Leyden jar (q.v.) consists of a glass bottle coated inside and outside for three-quarters of the way up with tinfoil.
If we have a number of such condensers we can combine them in “parallel” or in “series.” If all the plates on one side are connected together and also those on the other, the condensers are joined in parallel. If C1, C2, C3, &c., are the separate Systems of condensers. capacities, then Σ(C) = C1 + C2 + C3 + &c., is the total capacity in parallel. If the condensers are so joined that the inner coating of one is connected to the outer coating of the next, they are said to be in series. Since then they are all charged with the same quantity of electricity, and the total over all potential difference V is the sum of each of the individual potential differences V1, V2, V3, &c., we have
If we have several of these condensers, we can connect them “in parallel” or “in series.” If all the plates on one side are linked together, and the same goes for the other sides, the condensers are connected in parallel. If C1, C2, C3, etc., represent the individual Condenser systems. capacities, then Σ(C) = C1 + C2 + C3 + etc. is the total capacity in parallel. If the condensers are connected so that the inner coating of one is linked to the outer coating of the next, they are referred to as being in series. Since they are all charged with the same amount of electricity, the total potential difference V across them is the sum of each individual potential difference V1, V2, V3, etc., we have
Q = C1V1 = C2V2 = C3V3 = &c., and V = V1 + V2 + V3 + &c.
Q = C1V1 = C2V2 = C3V3 = etc., and V = V1 + V2 + V3 + etc.
The resultant capacity is C = Q/V, and
The resulting capacity is C = Q/V, and
C = 1 / (1/C1 + 1/C2 + 1/C3 + &c.) = 1 / Σ(1/C)
C = 1 / (1/C1 + 1/C2 + 1/C3 + &c.) = 1 / Σ(1/C)
These rules provide means for calculating the resultant capacity when any number of condensers are joined up in any way.
These rules offer a way to calculate the total capacity when any number of capacitors are connected in any configuration.
If one condenser is charged, and then joined in parallel with another uncharged condenser, the charge is divided between them in the ratio of their capacities. For if C1 and C2 are the capacities and Q1 and Q2 are the charges after contact, then Q1/C1 and Q2/C2 are the potential differences of the coatings and must be equal. Hence Q1/C1 = Q2/C2 or Q1/Q2 = C1/C2. It is worth noting that if we have a charged sphere we can perfectly discharge it by introducing it into the interior of another hollow insulated conductor and making contact. The small sphere then becomes part of the interior of the other and loses all charge.
If one capacitor is charged and then connected in parallel with another uncharged capacitor, the charge splits between them based on their capacities. If C1 and C2 are the capacities, and Q1 and Q2 are the charges after they are connected, then Q1/C1 and Q2/C2 represent the voltage differences across the plates and must be equal. Therefore, Q1/C1 = Q2/C2 or Q1/Q2 = C1/C2. It's important to note that if we have a charged sphere, we can completely discharge it by placing it inside another hollow insulated conductor and making contact. The small sphere then becomes part of the interior of the other conductor and loses all of its charge.
Measurement of Capacity.—Numerous methods have been devised for the measurement of the electrical capacity of conductors in those cases in which it cannot be determined by calculation. Such a measurement may be an absolute determination or a relative one. The dimensions of a capacity in electrostatic measure is a length (see Units, Physical). Thus the capacity of a sphere in electrostatic units (E.S.U.) is the same as the number denoting its radius in centimetres. The unit of electrostatic capacity is therefore that of a sphere of 1 cm. radius.9 This unit is too small for practical purposes, and hence a unit of capacity 900,000 greater, called a microfarad, is generally employed. Thus for instance the capacity in free space of a sphere 2 metres in diameter would be 100/900,000 = 1/9000 of a microfarad. The electrical capacity of the whole earth considered as a sphere is about 800 microfarads. An absolute measurement of capacity means, therefore, a determination in E.S. units made directly without reference to any other condenser. On the other hand there are numerous methods by which the capacities of condensers may be compared and a relative measurement made in terms of some standard.
Measurement of Capacity.—Many methods have been developed to measure the electrical capacity of conductors when it can't be calculated. This measurement can be either an absolute determination or a relative one. The dimension of a capacity in electrostatic measure is a length (see Units, Physical). Therefore, the capacity of a sphere in electrostatic units (E.S.U.) is equal to the number that represents its radius in centimeters. The unit of electrostatic capacity is thus based on a sphere with a 1 cm radius.9 This unit is too small for practical use, so a larger unit, 900,000 times greater, known as a microfarad, is typically used. For example, the capacity in free space of a sphere with a 2-meter diameter would be 100/900,000 = 1/9000 of a microfarad. The electrical capacity of the entire Earth, treated as a sphere, is about 800 microfarads. An absolute measurement of capacity refers to a determination in E.S. units made directly without relating it to another condenser. Conversely, there are many methods to compare the capacities of condensers and make relative measurements in terms of some standard.
One well-known comparison method is that of C.V. de Sauty. The two condensers to be compared are connected in the branches of a Wheatstone’s Bridge (q.v.) and the other two arms completed with variable resistance boxes. These arms Relative determinations. are then altered until on raising or depressing the battery key there is no sudden deflection either way of the galvanometer. If R1 and R2 are the arms’ resistances and C1 and C2 the condenser capacities, then when the bridge is balanced we have R1 : R2 = C1 : C2.
One well-known comparison method is that of C.V. de Sauty. The two condensers being compared are connected in the branches of a Wheatstone’s Bridge (q.v.), and the other two arms are completed with variable resistance boxes. These arms are then adjusted until pressing or releasing the battery switch does not cause any sudden movement in either direction of the galvanometer. If R1 and R2 are the resistances of the arms and C1 and C2 are the capacities of the condensers, then when the bridge is balanced, we have R1 : R2 = C1 : C2.
Another comparison method much used in submarine cable work is the method of mixtures, originally due to Lord Kelvin and usually called Thomson and Gott’s method. It depends on the principle that if two condensers of capacity C1 and C2 are respectively charged to potentials V1 and V2, and then joined in parallel with terminals of opposite charge together, the resulting potential difference of the two condensers will be V, such that
Another commonly used comparison method in submarine cable work is the method of mixtures, originally developed by Lord Kelvin and usually referred to as Thomson and Gott’s method. It relies on the principle that if two capacitors with capacities C1 and C2 are charged to potentials V1 and V2, and then connected in parallel with their opposite charges joined together, the resulting potential difference across the two capacitors will be V, such that
V = | (CBelow is a short piece of text (5 words or fewer). Modernize it into contemporary English if there's enough context, but do not add or omit any information. If context is insufficient, return it unchanged. Do not add commentary, and do not modify any placeholders. If you see placeholders of the form __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_x__, you must keep them exactly as-is so they can be replaced with links. 1V1 − C2V2) |
(C + C) |
and hence if V is zero we have C1 : C2 = V2 : V1.
and so if V is zero we have C1 : C2 = V2 : V1.
The method is carried out by charging the two condensers to be compared at the two sections of a high resistance joining the ends of a battery which is divided into two parts by a movable contact.10 This contact is shifted until such a point is found by trial that the two condensers charged at the different sections and then joined as above described and tested on a galvanometer show no charge. Various special keys have been invented for performing the electrical operations expeditiously.
The method involves charging the two capacitors to be compared at two sections of a high resistance connecting the ends of a battery, which is split into two parts by a movable contact.10 This contact is moved until a point is reached through trial where the two capacitors, charged at the different sections and then connected as described, show no charge when tested on a galvanometer. Several special keys have been created to perform the electrical operations efficiently.
A simple method for condenser comparison is to charge the two condensers to the same voltage by a battery and then discharge them successively through a ballistic galvanometer (q.v.) and observe the respective “throws” or deflections of the coil or needle. These are proportional to the capacities. For the various precautions necessary in conducting the above tests special treatises on electrical testing must be consulted.
A straightforward way to compare condensers is to charge both to the same voltage using a battery, then discharge them one after the other through a ballistic galvanometer (q.v.) and watch the “throws” or deflections of the coil or needle. These deflections are proportional to the capacities. For the specific precautions needed when performing these tests, refer to specialized texts on electrical testing.
![]() |
Fig. 2. |
In the absolute determination of capacity we have to measure the ratio of the charge of a condenser to its plate potential difference. One of the best methods for doing this is to charge the condenser by the known voltage of a battery, and then Absolute determinations. discharge it through a galvanometer and repeat this process rapidly and successively. If a condenser of capacity C is charged to potential V, and discharged n times per second through a galvanometer, this series of intermittent discharges is equivalent to a current nCV. Hence if the galvanometer is calibrated by a potentiometer (q.v.) we can determine the value of this current in amperes, and knowing the value of n and V thus determine C. Various forms of commutator have been devised for effecting this charge and discharge rapidly by J.J. Thomson, R.T. Glazebrook, J.A. Fleming and W.C. Clinton and others.11 One form consists of a tuning-fork electrically maintained in vibration of known period, which closes an electric contact at every vibration and sets another electromagnet in operation, which reverses a switch and moves over one terminal of the condenser from a battery to a galvanometer contact. In another form, a revolving contact is used driven by an electric motor, which consists of an insulating disk having on its surface slips of metal and three wire brushes a, b, c (see fig. 2) pressing against them. The metal slips are so placed that, as the disk revolves, the middle brush, connected to one terminal of the condenser C, is alternately put in conductive connexion with first one and then the other outside brush, which are joined respectively to the battery B and galvanometer G terminals. From the speed of this motor the number of commutations per second can be determined. The above method is especially useful for the determinations of very small capacities of the order of 100 electrostatic units or so and upwards.
To determine the capacity, we need to measure the ratio of a capacitor's charge to its plate potential difference. One of the best ways to do this is to charge the capacitor using a known battery voltage, then discharge it through a galvanometer, repeating this process quickly and continuously. If a capacitor with capacity C is charged to potential V and discharged n times per second through a galvanometer, this sequence of intermittent discharges is equivalent to a current of nCV. Thus, if the galvanometer is calibrated using a potentiometer (q.v.), we can find the value of this current in amperes, and by knowing n and V, we can determine C. Various types of commutators have been developed for quickly charging and discharging by J.J. Thomson, R.T. Glazebrook, J.A. Fleming, W.C. Clinton, and others.11 One design features a tuning fork that is electrically maintained in vibration at a known frequency, which closes an electric contact with each vibration, activating another electromagnet that reverses a switch, moving one terminal of the capacitor from a battery to a galvanometer contact. In another version, a revolving contact driven by an electric motor consists of an insulating disk with metal slips on its surface and three wire brushes a, b, c (see fig. 2) pressing against them. The metal slips are arranged so that as the disk spins, the middle brush, connected to one terminal of capacitor C, alternates connection with the first and then the second outside brush, which are connected to the battery B and galvanometer G terminals, respectively. The motor's speed allows us to determine the number of commutations per second. This method is particularly effective for measuring very small capacities, around 100 electrostatic units or more.
Dielectric constant.—Since all electric charge consists in a state of strain or polarization of the dielectric, it is evident that the physical state and chemical composition of the insulator must be of great importance in determining electrical phenomena. Cavendish and subsequently Faraday discovered this fact, and the latter gave the name “specific inductive capacity,” or “dielectric constant,” to that quality of an insulator which determines the charge taken by a conductor embedded in it when charged to a given potential. The simplest method of determining it numerically is, therefore, that adopted by Faraday.12 He constructed two equal condensers, each consisting of a metal ball enclosed in a hollow metal sphere, and he provided also certain hemispherical shells of shellac, sulphur, glass, resin, &c., which he could so place in one condenser between the ball and enclosing sphere that it formed a condenser with solid dielectric. He then determined the ratio of the capacities of the two condensers, one with air and the other with the solid dielectric. This gave the dielectric constant K of the material. Taking the dielectric constant of air as unity he obtained the following values, for shellac K = 2.0, glass K = 1.76, and sulphur K = 2.24.
Dielectric constant.—Since all electric charge is essentially a result of strain or polarization in the dielectric, it’s clear that the physical state and chemical makeup of the insulator play a crucial role in shaping electrical phenomena. Cavendish and later Faraday recognized this, and Faraday coined the term “specific inductive capacity,” or “dielectric constant,” to describe the property of an insulator that determines how much charge a conductor, placed within it, takes on when charged to a certain potential. The easiest way to measure it numerically is the method used by Faraday.12 He built two identical condensers, each made of a metal ball within a hollow metal sphere, and he also prepared various hemispherical shells made of shellac, sulfur, glass, resin, etc. He positioned these shells in one of the condensers between the ball and the surrounding sphere, creating a condenser with a solid dielectric. He then calculated the ratio of the capacities of the two condensers—one filled with air and the other with the solid dielectric. This resulted in the dielectric constant K of the material. By taking the dielectric constant of air as one, he found the following values: for shellac K = 2.0, for glass K = 1.76, and for sulfur K = 2.24.
Table I.—Dielectric Constants (K) of Solids (K for Air = 1).
Table 1.—Dielectric Constants (K) of Solids (K for Air = 1).
Substance. | K. | Authority. |
Glass, double extra dense flint, density 4.5 | 9.896 | J. Hopkinson |
Glass, light flint, density 3.2 | 6.72 | ” |
Glass, hard crown, density 2.485 | 6.61 | ” |
Sulphur | 2.24 | M. Faraday |
2.88 | Coullner | |
3.84 | L. Boltzmann | |
4.0 | P.J. Curie | |
2.94 | P.R. Blondlot | |
Ebonite | 2.05 | Rosetti |
3.15 | Boltzmann | |
2.21 | Schiller | |
2.86 | Elsas | |
India-rubber, pure brown | 2.12 | Schiller |
India-rubber, vulcanized, grey | 2.69 | ” |
Gutta-percha | 2.462 | J.E. H. Gordon |
Paraffin | 1.977 | Gibson and Barclay |
2.32 | Boltzmann | |
2.29 | J. Hopkinson | |
1.99 | Gordon | |
Shellac | 2.95 | Wällner |
2.74 | Gordon | |
3.04 | A.A. Winkelmann | |
Mica | 6.64 | I. Klemenčič |
8.00 | P.J. Curie | |
7.98 | E.M.L. Bouty | |
5.97 | Elsas | |
Quartz— | ||
along optic axis | 4.55 | P.J. Curie |
perp. to optic axis | 4.49 | P.J. Curie |
Ice at −23° | 78.0 | Bouty |
Since Faraday’s time, by improved methods, but depending essentially upon the same principles, an enormous number of determinations of the dielectric constants of various insulators, solid, liquid and gaseous, have been made (see tables I., II., III. and IV.). There are very considerable differences between the values assigned by different observers, sometimes no doubt due to differences in method, but in most cases unquestionably depending on variations in the quality of the specimens examined. The value of the dielectric constant is greatly affected by the temperature and the frequency of the applied electric force.
Since Faraday’s time, thanks to improved methods that rely on the same basic principles, a vast amount of data on the dielectric constants of various insulators—solid, liquid, and gas—has been gathered (see tables I., II., III. and IV.). There are significant discrepancies between the values reported by different researchers, which are sometimes due to variations in technique, but in most cases, they are clearly a result of differences in the quality of the specimens tested. The dielectric constant value is heavily influenced by temperature and the frequency of the applied electric field.
Table II.—Dielectric Constant (K) of Liquids.
Table II.—Dielectric Constant (K) of Liquids.
Liquid. | K. | Authority. |
Water at 17° C. | 80.88 | F. Heerwagen |
” ” 25° C. | 75.7 | E.B. Rosa |
” ” 25.3° C. | 78.87 | Franke |
Olive oil | 3.16 | Hopkinson |
Castor oil | 4.78 | ” |
Turpentine | 2.15 | P.A. Silow |
” | 2.23 | Hopkinson |
Petroleum | 2.072 | Silow |
” | 2.07 | Hopkinson |
Ethyl alcohol at 25° C. | 25.7 | Rosa |
Ethyl ether | 4.57 | Doule |
” ” | 4.8 | Bouty |
Acetic acid | 9.7 | Franke |
Table III.—Dielectric Constant of some Bodies at a very low Temperature (−185° C.) (Fleming and Dewar).
Table 3.—Dielectric Constant of some Materials at a very low Temperature (−185° C.) (Fleming and Dewar).
Substance. | K at 15° C. | K at −185°C. |
Water | 80 | 2.4 to 2.9 |
Formic acid | 62 | 2.41 |
Glycerine | 56 | 3.2 |
Methyl alcohol | 34 | 3.13 |
Nitrobenzene | 32 | 2.6 |
Ethyl alcohol | 25 | 3.1 |
Acetone | 21.85 | 2.62 |
Ethyl nitrate | 17.7 | 2.73 |
Amyl alcohol | 16 | 2.14 |
Aniline | 7.5 | 2.92 |
Castor oil | 4.78 | 2.19 |
Ethyl ether | 4.25 | 2.31 |
The above determinations at low temperature were made with either a steady or a slowly alternating electric force applied a hundred times a second. They show that the dielectric constant of a liquid generally undergoes great reduction in value when the liquid is frozen and reduced to a low temperature.13
The determinations mentioned earlier at low temperature were made with either a constant or a slowly alternating electric force applied a hundred times a second. They indicate that the dielectric constant of a liquid typically experiences a significant decrease in value when the liquid is frozen and cooled to a low temperature.13
The dielectric constants of gases have been determined by L. Boltzmann and I. Klemenčič as follows:—
The dielectric constants of gases have been measured by L. Boltzmann and I. Klemenčič as follows:—
Table IV.—Dielectric Constants (K) of Gases at 15° C. and 760 mm. Vacuum = 1.
Table 4.—Dielectric Constants (K) of Gases at 15° C. and 760 mm. Vacuum = 1.
Gas. | Dielectric Constant K. |
√K. | Optical Refractive Index. μ. |
Air | 1.000590 | 1.000295 | 1.000293 |
Hydrogen | 1.000264 | 1.000132 | 1.000139 |
Carbon dioxide | 1.000946 | 1.000475 | 1.000454 |
Carbon monoxide | 1.000690 | 1.000345 | 1.000335 |
Nitrous oxide | 1.000994 | 1.000497 | 1.000516 |
Ethylene | 1.001312 | 1.000656 | 1.000720 |
Marsh gas (methane) | 1.000944 | 1.000478 | 1.000442 |
Carbon bisulphide | 1.002900 | 1.001450 | 1.001478 |
Sulphur dioxide | 1.00954 | 1.004770 | 1.000703 |
Ether | 1.00744 | 1.003720 | 1.00154 |
Ethyl chloride | 1.01552 | 1.007760 | 1.001174 |
Ethyl bromide | 1.01546 | 1.007730 | 1.00122 |
In general the dielectric constant is reduced with decrease of temperature towards a certain limiting value it would attain at the absolute zero. This variation, however, is not always linear. In some cases there is a very sudden drop at or below a certain temperature to a much lower value, and above and below the point the temperature variation is small. There is also a large difference in most cases between the value for a steadily applied electric force and a rapidly reversed or intermittent force—in the last case a decrease with increase of frequency. Maxwell (Elec. and Magn. vol. ii. § 788) showed that the square root of the dielectric constant should be the same number as the refractive index for waves of the same frequency (see Electric Waves). There are very few substances, however, for which the optical refractive index has the same value as K for steady or slowly varying electric force, on account of the great variation of the value of K with frequency.
In general, the dielectric constant decreases as the temperature drops toward a certain limiting value it would reach at absolute zero. However, this change isn't always linear. In some instances, there’s a sudden drop at or below a specific temperature to a much lower value, with only slight variations in temperature above and below that point. Additionally, there’s a significant difference in most cases between the value for a steadily applied electric force and a rapidly reversed or intermittent force—in the latter case, the value decreases as the frequency increases. Maxwell (Elec. and Magn. vol. ii. § 788) showed that the square root of the dielectric constant should equal the refractive index for waves of the same frequency (see Electric Waves). However, very few substances exist where the optical refractive index matches K for a steady or slowly varying electric force, due to the substantial variation of K with frequency.
There is a close analogy between the variation of dielectric constant of an insulator with electric force frequency and that of the rigidity or stiffness of an elastic body with the frequency of applied mechanical stress. Thus pitch is a soft and yielding body under steady stress, but a bar of pitch if struck gives a musical note, which shows that it vibrates and is therefore stiff or elastic for high frequency stress.
There is a strong comparison between how the dielectric constant of an insulator changes with the frequency of electric force and how the rigidity or stiffness of an elastic material changes with the frequency of applied mechanical stress. For example, pitch is a soft and flexible material under constant stress, but if you hit a piece of pitch, it produces a musical note, indicating that it vibrates and is therefore stiff or elastic under high-frequency stress.
Residual Charges in Dielectrics.—In close connexion with this lies the phenomenon of residual charge in dielectrics.14 If a glass Leyden jar is charged and then discharged and allowed to stand awhile, a second discharge can be obtained from it, and in like manner a third, and so on. The reappearance of the residual charge is promoted by tapping the glass. It has been shown that this behaviour of dielectrics can be imitated by a mechanical model consisting of a series of perforated pistons placed in a tube of oil with spiral springs between each piston.15 If the pistons are depressed and then released, and then the upper piston fixed awhile, a second discharge can be obtained from it, and the mechanical stress-strain diagram of the model is closely similar to the discharge curve of a dielectric. R.H.A. Kohlrausch called attention to the close analogy between residual charge and the elastic recovery of strained bodies such as twisted wire or glass threads. If a charged condenser is suddenly discharged and then insulated, the reappearance of a potential difference between its coatings is analogous to the reappearance of a torque in the case of a glass fibre which has been twisted, released suddenly, and then gripped again at the ends.
Residual Charges in Dielectrics.—Closely related to this is the phenomenon of residual charge in dielectrics.14 When a glass Leyden jar is charged and then discharged, if it's left for a while, a second discharge can be obtained from it, and similarly a third discharge, and so on. The reappearance of the residual charge is enhanced by tapping the glass. It's been demonstrated that this behavior of dielectrics can be mimicked by a mechanical model made up of a series of perforated pistons in a tube of oil, with spiral springs between each piston.15 If the pistons are pressed down and then released, and the upper piston is held in place for a moment, a second discharge can be produced, and the mechanical stress-strain diagram of the model closely resembles the discharge curve of a dielectric. R.H.A. Kohlrausch pointed out the strong similarity between residual charge and the elastic recovery of strained materials like twisted wire or glass threads. When a charged condenser is suddenly discharged and then insulated, the return of a potential difference between its plates is similar to the return of torque in a glass fiber that has been twisted, released suddenly, and then held again at both ends.
For further information on the qualities of dielectrics the reader is referred to the following sources:—J. Hopkinson, “On the Residual Charge of the Leyden Jar,” Phil. Trans., 1876, 166 [ii.], p. 489, where it is shown that tapping the glass of a Leyden jar permits the reappearance of the residual charge; “On the Residual Charge of 247 the Leyden Jar,” ib. 167 [ii.], p. 599, containing many valuable observations on the residual charge of Leyden jars; W.E. Ayrton and J. Perry, “A Preliminary Account of the Reduction of Observations on Strained Material, Leyden Jars and Voltameters,” Proc. Roy. Soc., 1880, 30, p. 411, showing experiments on residual charge of condensers and a comparison between the behaviour of dielectrics and glass fibres under torsion. In connexion with this paper the reader may also be referred to one by L. Boltzmann, “Zur Theorie der elastischen Nachwirkung,” Wien. Acad. Sitz.-Ber., 1874, 70.
For more information on the properties of dielectrics, readers can refer to the following sources:—J. Hopkinson, “On the Residual Charge of the Leyden Jar,” Phil. Trans., 1876, 166 [ii.], p. 489, which shows that tapping the glass of a Leyden jar allows the residual charge to reappear; “On the Residual Charge of 247 the Leyden Jar,” ib. 167 [ii.], p. 599, which contains many valuable observations on the residual charge of Leyden jars; W.E. Ayrton and J. Perry, “A Preliminary Account of the Reduction of Observations on Strained Material, Leyden Jars and Voltameters,” Proc. Roy. Soc., 1880, 30, p. 411, which shows experiments on the residual charge of condensers and compares the behavior of dielectrics and glass fibers under torsion. In connection with this paper, readers may also refer to one by L. Boltzmann, “Zur Theorie der elastischen Nachwirkung,” Wien. Acad. Sitz.-Ber., 1874, 70.
Distribution of Electricity on Conductors.—We now proceed to consider in more detail the laws which govern the distribution of electricity at rest upon conductors. It has been shown above that the potential due to a charge of q units placed on a very small sphere, commonly called a point-charge, at any distance x is q/x. The mathematical importance of this function called the potential is that it is a scalar quantity, and the potential at any point due to any number of point charges q1, q2, q3, &c., distributed in any manner, is the sum of them separately, or
Distribution of Electricity on Conductors.—We will now take a closer look at the laws that govern the distribution of electricity at rest on conductors. We've already established that the potential from a charge of q units placed on a very small sphere, known as a point charge, at any distance x is q/x. The mathematical significance of this function, referred to as potential, is that it's a scalar quantity. The potential at any point due to any number of point charges q1, q2, q3, etc., distributed in any way, is simply the sum of them individually, or
q1/x1 + q2/x2 + q3/x3 + &c. = Σ (q/x) = V
q1/x1 + q2/x2 + q3/x3 + &c. = Σ (q/x) = V
where x1, x2, x3, &c., are the distances of the respective point charges from the point in question at which the total potential is required. The resultant electric force E at that point is then obtained by differentiating V, since E = −dV / dx, and E is in the direction in which V diminishes fastest. In any case, therefore, in which we can sum up the elementary potentials at any point we can calculate the resultant electric force at the same point.
where x1, x2, x3, etc., are the distances of the respective point charges from the point where we want to find the total potential. The overall electric force E at that point is then found by differentiating V, since E = −dV / dx, and E is directed toward where V decreases the quickest. So, in any situation where we can add up the individual potentials at a point, we can calculate the resulting electric force at that same point.
We may describe, through all the points in an electric field which have the same potential, surfaces called equipotential surfaces, and these will be everywhere perpendicular or orthogonal to the lines of electric force. Let us assume the field divided up into tubes of electric force as already explained, and these cut normally by equipotential surfaces. We can then establish some important properties of these tubes and surfaces. At each point in the field the electric force can have but one resultant value. Hence the equipotential surfaces cannot cut each other. Let us suppose any other surface described in the electric field so as to cut the closely compacted tubes. At each point on this surface the resultant force has a certain value, and a certain direction inclined at an angle θ to the normal to the selected surface at that point. Let dS be an element of the surface. Then the quantity E cos θdS is the product of the normal component of the force and an element of the surface, and if this is summed up all over the surface we have the total electric flux or induction through the surface, or the surface integral of the normal force mathematically expressed by ∫E cos θdS, provided that the dielectric constant of the medium is unity.
We can describe, through all the points in an electric field that have the same potential, surfaces called equipotential surfaces, which are always perpendicular to the lines of electric force. Let’s assume the field is divided into tubes of electric force as previously explained, and these are intersected normally by equipotential surfaces. This allows us to establish some important properties of these tubes and surfaces. At each point in the field, the electric force can only have one resultant value. Therefore, equipotential surfaces cannot intersect. Now, let’s consider any other surface in the electric field that cuts through the closely packed tubes. At each point on this surface, the resultant force has a specific value and a direction that is inclined at an angle θ to the normal of the chosen surface at that point. Let dS be a small area of the surface. The quantity E cos θdS represents the product of the normal component of the force and an element of the surface. If we sum this over the entire surface, we obtain the total electric flux or induction through the surface, or the surface integral of the normal force mathematically expressed as ∫E cos θdS, assuming the dielectric constant of the medium is one.
![]() |
We have then a very important theorem as follows:—If any closed surface be described in an electric field which wholly encloses or wholly excludes electrified bodies, then the total flux through this surface is equal to 4π- times the total quantity of electricity within it.16 This is commonly called Stokes’s theorem. The proof is as follows:—Consider any point-charge E of electricity included in any surface S, S, S (see fig. 3), and describe through it as centre a cone of small solid angle dω cutting out of the enclosing surface in two small areas dS and dS′ at distances x and x′. Then the electric force due to the point charge q at distance x is q/x, and the resolved part normal to the element of surface dS is q cosθ / x². The normal section of the cone at that point is equal to dS cosθ, and the solid angle dω is equal to dS cosθ / x². Hence the flux through dS is qdω. Accordingly, since the total solid angle round a point is 4π, it follows that the total flux through the closed surface due to the single point charge q is 4πq, and what is true for one point charge is true for any collection forming a total charge Q of any form. Hence the total electric flux due to a charge Q through an enclosing surface is 4πQ, and therefore is zero through one enclosing no electricity.
We have an important theorem as follows: If a closed surface is created in an electric field that completely encloses or completely excludes charged objects, then the total flux through that surface equals 4π times the total amount of electric charge inside it. 16 This is commonly known as Stokes’s theorem. The proof goes like this: Consider any point charge E within any surface S (see fig. 3), and draw a cone with a small solid angle dω, cutting through the enclosing surface at two small areas dS and dS′ at distances x and x′. The electric force due to the point charge q at distance x is q/x, and the portion of the force normal to the surface element dS is q cosθ / x². The normal section of the cone at that point is equal to dS cosθ, and the solid angle dω equals dS cosθ / x². Therefore, the flux through dS is qdω. Since the total solid angle around a point is 4π, it follows that the total flux through the closed surface due to the single point charge q is 4πq, and what's true for one point charge holds for any collection resulting in a total charge Q of any form. Hence, the total electric flux due to a charge Q through an enclosing surface is 4πQ, and thus it is zero through a surface that encloses no electricity.
Stokes’s theorem becomes an obvious truism if applied to an incompressible fluid. Let a source of fluid be a point from which an incompressible fluid is emitted in all directions. Close to the source the stream lines will be radial lines. Let a very small sphere be described round the source, and let the strength of the source be defined as the total flow per second through the surface of this small sphere. Then if we have any number of sources enclosed by any surface, the total flow per second through this surface is equal to the total strengths of all the sources. If, however, we defined the strength of the source by the statement that the strength divided by the square of the distance gives the velocity of the liquid at that point, then the total flux through any enclosing surface would be 4π times the strengths of all the sources enclosed. To every proposition in electrostatics there is thus a corresponding one in the hydrokinetic theory of incompressible liquids.
Stokes’s theorem becomes a clear truth when applied to an incompressible fluid. Imagine a source of fluid as a point where an incompressible fluid is released in all directions. Close to the source, the streamlines will be radial lines. Picture a very small sphere drawn around the source, and define the strength of the source as the total flow per second through the surface of this small sphere. If there are multiple sources contained within any surface, the total flow per second through that surface equals the total strengths of all the sources. However, if we define the strength of the source as the strength divided by the square of the distance, which gives the velocity of the liquid at that point, then the total flux through any enclosing surface would be 4π times the strengths of all the enclosed sources. Thus, every assertion in electrostatics has a corresponding one in the hydrokinetic theory of incompressible liquids.
Let us apply the above theorem to the case of a small parallel-epipedon or rectangular prism having sides dx, dy, dz respectively, its centre having co-ordinates (x, y, z). Its angular points have then co-ordinates (x ± ½dx, y ± ½dy, z ± ½dz). Let this rectangular prism be supposed to be wholly filled up with electricity of density ρ; then the total quantity in it is ρ dx dy dz. Consider the two faces perpendicular to the x-axis. Let V be the potential at the centre of the prism, then the normal forces on the two faces of area dy·dx are respectively
Let’s apply the theorem to a small rectangular box with sides dx, dy, and dz, centered at (x, y, z). The corners of this box have coordinates (x ± ½dx, y ± ½dy, z ± ½dz). Let’s assume this rectangular box is completely filled with electricity of density ρ; then the total amount of electricity inside it is ρ dx dy dz. Now, consider the two faces that are perpendicular to the x-axis. Let V be the potential at the center of the box, then the normal forces on the two faces with area dy·dx are
− It seems like the text didn't come through. Please provide the short piece of text you'd like me to modernize. | dV | + ½ | d²V | dxIt seems you've submitted a prompt without content to modernize. Please provide a phrase or text for me to work on. and Sure! Please provide the text you would like me to modernize. | dV | − ½ | d²V | dxI'm ready to assist. Please provide the text you would like me to modernize., |
dx | dx² | dx | dx² |
and similar expressions for the normal forces to the other pairs of faces dx·dy, dz·dx. Hence, multiplying these normal forces by the areas of the corresponding faces, we have the total flux parallel to the x-axis given by −(d²V / dx²) dx dy dz, and similar expressions for the other sides. Hence the total flux is
and similar expressions for the normal forces to the other pairs of faces dx·dy, dz·dx. Therefore, by multiplying these normal forces by the areas of the corresponding faces, the total flux parallel to the x-axis is given by −(d²V / dx²) dx dy dz, along with similar expressions for the other sides. Thus, the total flux is
− Below is a short piece of text (5 words or fewer). Modernize it into contemporary English if there's enough context, but do not add or omit any information. If context is insufficient, return it unchanged. Do not add commentary, and do not modify any placeholders. If you see placeholders of the form __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_x__, you must keep them exactly as-is so they can be replaced with links. | d²V | + | d²V | + | d²V | I'm sorry, but it seems there is no text provided for me to modernize. Please provide a short phrase for me to assist you with. dx dy dz, |
dx² | dy² | dz² |
and by the previous theorem this must be equal to 4πρdx dy dz.
and by the previous theorem this must be equal to 4πρdx dy dz.
Hence
So
d²V | + | d²V | + | d²V | + 4πρ = 0 |
dx² | dy² | dz² |
This celebrated equation was first given by S.D. Poisson, although previously demonstrated by Laplace for the case when ρ = 0. It defines the condition which must be fulfilled by the potential at any and every point in an electric field, through which ρ is finite and the electric force continuous. It may be looked upon as an equation to determine ρ when V is given or vice versa. An exactly similar expression holds good in hydrokinetics, provided that for the electric potential we substitute velocity potential, and for the electric force the velocity of the liquid.
This well-known equation was first introduced by S.D. Poisson, although it was previously shown by Laplace in the case when ρ = 0. It defines the condition that must be met by the potential at every point in an electric field, where ρ is finite and the electric force is continuous. It can be seen as an equation to calculate ρ when V is known or the other way around. A similar expression is valid in hydrokinetics, as long as we replace electric potential with velocity potential and electric force with the fluid's velocity.
The Poisson equation cannot, however, be applied in the above form to a region which is partly within and partly without an electrified conductor, because then the electric force undergoes a sudden change in value from zero to a finite value, in passing outwards through the bounding surface of the conductor. We can, however, obtain another equation called the “surface characteristic equation” as follows:—Suppose a very small area dS described on a conductor having a surface density of electrification σ. Then let a small, very short cylinder be described of which dS is a section, and the generating lines are normal to the surface. Let V1 and V2 be the potentials at points just outside and inside the surface dS, and let n1 and n2 be the normals to the surface dS drawn outwards and inwards; then −dV1 / dn1 and −dV2 / dn2 are the normal components of the force over the ends of the imaginary small cylinder. But the force perpendicular to the curved surface of this cylinder is everywhere zero. Hence the total flux through the surface considered is −{(dV1 / dn1) + (dV2 / dn2)} dS, and this by a previous theorem must be equal to 4πσdS, or the total included electric quantity. Hence we have the surface characteristic equation,17
The Poisson equation can't be used in the same way for a region that’s partly inside and partly outside an electrified conductor because the electric force changes suddenly from zero to a finite value when crossing the boundary of the conductor. However, we can derive another equation known as the “surface characteristic equation.” Let’s consider a very small area dS on a conductor with a surface charge density of σ. Now, imagine a small, short cylinder where dS is a cross-section, and the generating lines are perpendicular to the surface. Let V1 and V2 be the potentials at points just outside and inside the surface dS, and let n1 and n2 be the normals to the surface dS pointing outward and inward; thus, −dV1 / dn1 and −dV2 / dn2 are the normal components of the force across the ends of this imaginary small cylinder. However, the force perpendicular to the curved surface of the cylinder is always zero. Therefore, the total flux through the surface in question is −{(dV1 / dn1) + (dV2 / dn2)} dS, which according to a previous theorem must equal 4πσdS, representing the total electric charge present. This gives us the surface characteristic equation, 17
(dV1 / dn1) + (dV2 / dn2) + 4πσ = 0
(dV1 / dn1) + (dV2 / dn2) + 4πσ = 0
Let us apply these theorems to a portion of a tube of electric force. Let the part selected not include any charged surface. Then since the generating lines of the tube are lines of force, the component of the electric force perpendicular to the curved surface of the tube is everywhere zero. But the electric force is normal to the ends of the tube. Hence if dS and dS′ are the areas of the ends, and +E and -E′ the oppositely directed electric forces at the ends of the tube, the surface integral of normal force on the flux over the tube is
Let’s use these theorems on a section of an electric force tube. Let’s make sure the chosen section doesn’t include any charged surfaces. Since the lines that create the tube are lines of force, the part of the electric force that’s perpendicular to the curved surface of the tube is always zero. However, the electric force is perpendicular to the ends of the tube. Therefore, if dS and dS′ are the areas of the ends, and +E and -E′ are the electric forces acting in opposite directions at the ends of the tube, the surface integral of the normal force on the flux over the tube is
EdS − E′dS′
EdS − E'dS'
and this by the theorem already given is equal to zero, since the tube includes no electricity. Hence the characteristic quality of a tube of electric force is that its section is everywhere inversely as the electric force at that point. A tube so chosen that EdS for one section has a value unity, is called a unit tube, since the product of force and section is then everywhere unity for the same tube.
and this, according to the theorem provided, is equal to zero because the tube contains no electricity. Therefore, the defining feature of a tube of electric force is that its cross-section is inversely proportional to the electric force at that point. A tube selected so that EdS for one cross-section equals one is called a unit tube, because then the product of force and cross-section is always one for that same tube.
In the next place apply the surface characteristic equation to any point on a charged conductor at which the surface density is σ. The electric force outward from that point is −dV/dn, where dn is a distance measured along the outwardly drawn normal, and the force within the surface is zero. Hence we have
In the next step, apply the surface characteristic equation to any point on a charged conductor where the surface density is σ. The electric force pushing outward from that point is −dV/dn, where dn is a distance measured along the outwardly drawn normal, and the force within the surface is zero. Therefore, we have
−dV/dn = 4.0πσ or σ = −(¼π) dV/dn = E/4π.
−dV/dn = 4.0πσ or σ = −(¼π) dV/dn = E/4π.
The above is a statement of Coulomb’s law, that the electric force at the surface of a conductor is proportional to the surface density of the charge at that point and equal to 4π times the density.18
The above is a statement of Coulomb’s law, that the electric force at the surface of a conductor is proportional to the surface density of the charge at that point and equal to 4π times the density.18
If we define the positive direction along a tube of electric force as the direction in which a small body charged with positive electricity would tend to move, we can summarize the above facts in a simple form by saying that, if we have any closed surface described in any manner in an electric field, the excess of the number of unit tubes which leave the surface over those which enter it is equal to 4π-times the algebraic sum of all the electricity included within the surface.
If we define the positive direction along an electric field line as the way a small object charged with positive electricity would naturally move, we can summarize the above points simply by stating that, if we have any closed surface described in any way within an electric field, the difference between the number of unit field lines that exit the surface and those that enter it is equal to 4π times the total amount of electric charge contained within that surface.
Every tube of electric force must therefore begin and end on electrified surfaces of opposite sign, and the quantities of positive and negative electricity on its two ends are equal, since the force E just outside an electrified surface is normal to it and equal to σ/4π, where σ is the surface density; and since we have just proved that for the ends of a tube of force EdS = E′dS′, it follows that σdS = σ′dS′, or Q = Q′, where Q and Q′ are the quantities of electricity on the ends of the tube of force. Accordingly, since every tube sent out from a charged conductor must end somewhere on another charge of opposite sign, it follows that the two electricities always exist in equal quantity, and that it is impossible to create any quantity of one kind without creating an equal quantity of the opposite sign.
Every tube of electric force must start and end on surfaces that are charged with opposite types of electricity, and the amounts of positive and negative charge at each end are equal. This is because the electric field (E) just outside a charged surface is perpendicular to it and equal to σ/4π, where σ is the surface charge density. Since we’ve just established that for the ends of a force tube EdS = E′dS′, it follows that σdS = σ′dS′, or Q = Q′, where Q and Q′ are the amounts of charge at the ends of the force tube. Therefore, since every tube originating from a charged conductor must end at another charge of opposite type, it follows that the two types of electricity always exist in equal amounts, and it is impossible to generate a quantity of one type without also generating an equal amount of the opposite type.
![]() |
Fig. 4. |
We have next to consider the energy storage which takes place when electric charge is created, i.e. when the dielectric is strained or polarized. Since the potential of a conductor is defined to be the work required to move a unit of positive electricity from the surface of the earth or from an infinite distance from all electricity to the surface of the conductor, it follows that the work done in putting a small charge dq into a conductor at a potential v is v dq. Let us then suppose that a conductor originally at zero potential has its potential raised by administering to it small successive doses of electricity dq. The first raises its potential to v, the second to v′ and so on, and the nth to V. Take any horizontal line and divide it into small elements of length each representing dq, and draw vertical lines representing the potentials v, v′, &c., and after each dose. Since the potential rises proportionately to the quantity in the conductor, the ends of these ordinates will lie on a straight line and define a triangle whose base line is a length equal to the total quantity Q and height a length equal to the final potential V. The element of work done in introducing the quantity of electricity dq at a potential v is represented by the element of area of this triangle (see fig. 4), and hence the work done in charging the conductor with quantity Q to final potential V is ½QV, or since Q = CV, where C is its capacity, the work done is represented by ½CV² or by ½Q² / C.
Next, we need to look at the energy storage that occurs when electric charge is generated, meaning when the dielectric is compressed or polarized. The potential of a conductor is defined as the work needed to move a unit of positive charge from the earth's surface or from an infinite distance away to the surface of the conductor. This means that the work done in adding a small charge dq to a conductor at potential v is v dq. Now, let’s assume a conductor that starts at zero potential has its potential increased by adding small successive amounts of electricity dq. The first raise its potential to v, the second to v′, and so on, until the nth increases it to V. Take any horizontal line and break it into small segments, each representing dq, and draw vertical lines representing the potentials v, v′, etc., after each addition. Since the potential increases in proportion to the amount of charge in the conductor, the ends of these lines will form a straight line, creating a triangle whose base is equal to the total charge Q and height equal to the final potential V. The work done in adding the amount of electric charge dq at a potential v is represented by the area of this triangle (see fig. 4), so the total work done in charging the conductor with quantity Q to a final potential V is ½QV, or since Q = CV, where C is its capacity, the work done can also be expressed as ½CV² or ½Q² / C.
If σ is the surface density and dS an element of surface, then ∫σdS is the whole charge, and hence ½ ∫ VσdS is the expression for the energy of charge of a conductor.
If σ is the surface density and dS is a surface element, then ∫σdS represents the total charge, so ½ ∫ VσdS is the formula for the energy of charge in a conductor.
We can deduce a remarkable expression for the energy stored up in an electric field containing electrified bodies as follows:19 Let V denote the potential at any point in the field. Consider the integral
We can figure out a remarkable formula for the energy stored in an electric field with charged objects as follows:19 Let V represent the potential at any point in the field. Consider the integral
W = | 1 | ∫ ∫ ∫ {( | dV | ) | ² | + Please provide the text you would like to modernize. | dV | No text provided. Please provide a short piece of text for modernization. | ² | + Please provide the text you'd like me to modernize. | dV | I'm sorry, but I cannot provide a response to your request as there is no text included. Please provide the text you'd like me to modernize. | ² | } dx dy dz. |
8π | dx | dy | dz |
where the integration extends throughout the whole space unoccupied by conductors. We have by partial integration
where the integration covers the entire space not occupied by conductors. We have by partial integration
∫ ∫ ∫ | dV | ) | ² | dx dy dz = ∫ ∫ V | dV | dy dz − ∫ ∫ ∫ V | d²V | dx dy dz, |
dx | dx | dx² |
and two similar equations in y and z. Hence
and two similar equations in y and z. So
1 | ∫ ∫ ∫ {( | dV | ) | ² | + Please provide the text you would like modernized. | dV | ) | ² | + Please provide the text you'd like me to modernize. | dV | ) | ² | } dx dy dz = |
8π | dx | dy | dz |
1 | ∫ ∫ V | dV | dS − | 1 | ∫ ∫ ∫ V∇V dx dy dz |
8π | dn | 8π |
where dV/dn means differentiation along the normal, and ∇ stands for the operator d²/dx² + d²/dy² + d²/dz². Let E be the resultant electric force at any point in the field. Then bearing in mind that σ = (1/4π) dV/dn, and ρ = −(1/4π) ∇V, we have finally
where dV/dn means differentiation along the normal, and ∇ represents the operator d²/dx² + d²/dy² + d²/dz². Let E be the resultant electric force at any point in the field. Then keeping in mind that σ = (1/4π) dV/dn, and ρ = −(1/4π) ∇V, we have finally
1 | ∫ ∫ ∫ E²dv = | 1 | ∫ ∫ Vσ dS + | 1 | ∫ ∫ ∫ Vρ dv. |
8π | 2 | 2 |
The first term on the right hand side expresses the energy of the surface electrification of the conductors in the field, and the second the energy of volume density (if any). Accordingly the term on the left hand side gives us the whole energy in the field.
The first term on the right side represents the energy from the surface electrification of the conductors in the field, while the second term represents the energy from volume density (if applicable). Thus, the term on the left side gives us the total energy in the field.
Suppose that the dielectric has a constant K, then we must multiply both sides by K and the expression for the energy per unit of volume of the field is equivalent to ½DE where D is the displacement or polarization in the dielectric.
Suppose the dielectric has a constant K; then we need to multiply both sides by K, and the formula for the energy per unit volume of the field is equivalent to ½DE, where D is the displacement or polarization in the dielectric.
Furthermore it can be shown by the application of the calculus of variations that the condition for a minimum value of the function W, is that ∇V = 0. Hence that distribution of potential which is necessary to satisfy Laplace’s equation is also one which makes the potential energy a minimum and therefore the energy stable. Thus the actual distribution of electricity on the conductor in the field is not merely a stable distribution, it is the only possible stable distribution.
Furthermore, it can be demonstrated using the calculus of variations that the condition for a minimum value of the function W is that ∇V = 0. Therefore, the distribution of potential that fulfills Laplace’s equation is also the one that minimizes potential energy, making the energy stable. Consequently, the actual distribution of electricity on the conductor in the field is not just a stable distribution; it is the only possible stable distribution.
![]() |
Fig. 5. |
Method of Electrical Images.—A very powerful method of attacking problems in electrical distribution was first made known by Lord Kelvin in 1845 and is described as the method of electrical images.20 By older mathematical methods it had only been possible to predict in a few simple cases the distribution of electricity at rest on conductors of various forms. The notion of an electrical image may be easily grasped by the following illustration: Let there be at A (see fig. 5) a point-charge of positive electricity +q and an infinite conducting plate PO, shown in section, connected to earth and therefore at zero potential. Then the charge at A together with the induced surface charge on the plate makes a certain field of electric force on the left of the plate PO, which is a zero equipotential surface. If we remove the plate, and yet by any means can keep the identical surface occupied by it a plane of zero potential, the boundary conditions will remain the same, and therefore the field of force to the left of PO will remain unaltered. This can be done by placing at B an equal negative point-charge −q in the place which would be occupied by the optical image of A if PO were a mirror, that is, let −q be placed at B, so that the distance BO is equal to the distance AO, whilst AOB is at right angles to PO. Then the potential at any point P in this ideal plane PO is equal to q/AP − q/BP = O, whilst the resultant force at P due to the two point charges is 2qAO/AP³, and is parallel to AB or normal to PO. Hence if we remove the charge −q at B and distribute electricity over the surface PO with a surface density σ, according to the Coulomb-Poisson law, σ = qAO / 2πAP³, the field of force to the left of PD will fulfil the required boundary conditions, and hence will be the law of distribution of the induced electricity in the case of the actual plate. The point-charge −q at B is called the “electrical image” of the point-charge +q at A.
Method of Electrical Images.—A very effective way to tackle problems in electrical distribution was first introduced by Lord Kelvin in 1845 and is known as the method of electrical images.20 Using older mathematical methods, it was only possible to predict the distribution of electricity at rest on various conductor shapes in a few simple cases. The concept of an electrical image can be easily understood through the following example: Assume there’s a positive point charge +q at point A (see fig. 5) and an infinite conducting plate PO, shown in section, connected to the ground and therefore at zero potential. The charge at A, along with the induced surface charge on the plate, creates a specific electric field on the left of the plate PO, which serves as a zero equipotential surface. If we remove the plate but somehow maintain the same area as a plane of zero potential, the boundary conditions will stay the same, meaning the electric field to the left of PO will remain unchanged. This can be achieved by placing an equal negative point charge −q at point B, where it would be positioned if A were mirrored by PO, so that the distance BO is the same as AO, and angle AOB is perpendicular to PO. Consequently, the potential at any point P in this theoretical plane PO is equal to q/AP − q/BP = 0, while the resultant force at P from the two point charges is 2qAO/AP³, directed along AB or perpendicular to PO. Therefore, if we remove the charge −q at B and spread electricity over the surface PO with a surface density σ, following the Coulomb-Poisson law, σ = qAO / 2πAP³, the force field to the left of PD will meet the necessary boundary conditions, and thus will represent the distribution of the induced electricity for the actual plate. The point charge −q at B is referred to as the “electrical image” of the point charge +q at A.
We find a precisely analogous effect in optics which justifies the term “electrical image.” Suppose a room lit by a single candle. There is everywhere a certain illumination due to it. Place across the room a plane mirror. All the space behind the mirror will become dark, and all the space in front of the mirror will acquire an exalted illumination. Whatever this increased illumination may be, it can be precisely imitated by removing the mirror and placing a second lighted candle at the place occupied by the optical image of the first candle in the mirror, that is, as far behind the plane as the first candle was in front. So the potential distribution in the space due to the electric point-charge +q as A together with −q at B is the same as that due to +q at A and the negative induced charge erected on the infinite plane (earthed) metal sheet placed half-way between A and B.
We observe a similar effect in optics that supports the term "electrical image." Imagine a room lit by a single candle. It creates a certain level of light throughout the space. If we put a flat mirror across the room, everything behind the mirror goes dark, while the area in front gets a brighter light. No matter how bright this light gets, we can replicate it by removing the mirror and placing a second lit candle where the optical image of the first candle was in the mirror, positioned as far behind the plane as the first candle is in front. Similarly, the distribution of potential in the area caused by the electric point charge +q at A and −q at B is the same as that caused by +q at A and the negative induced charge situated on the infinite plane (grounded) metal sheet placed halfway between A and B.
![]() |
Fig. 6. |
The same reasoning can be applied to determine the electrical image of a point-charge of positive electricity in a spherical surface, and therefore the distribution of induced electricity over a metal sphere connected to earth produced by a point-charge near it. Let +q be any positive point-charge placed at a point A outside a sphere (fig. 6) of radius r, and centre at C, and let P be any point on it. Let CA = d. Take a point B in CA such that CB·CA = r², or CB = r²/d. It is easy then to show that PA : PB = d : r. If then we put a negative point-charge −qr/d at B, it follows that the spherical surface will be a zero potential surface, for
The same reasoning can be used to find the electrical image of a positive point charge on a spherical surface, and thus the distribution of induced electricity across a metal sphere grounded to earth due to a nearby point charge. Let +q represent any positive point charge located at point A outside a sphere (fig. 6) with a radius r and center at C, and let P be any point on the sphere. Let CA = d. Choose a point B on line CA such that CB·CA = r², or CB = r²/d. It's straightforward to demonstrate that PA : PB = d : r. If we then place a negative point charge −qr/d at B, it will result in the spherical surface being a zero potential surface, for
q | − | rq | · | 1 | = 0 |
PA | d | PB |
Another equipotential surface is evidently a very small sphere described round A. The resultant force due to these two point-charges must then be in the direction CP, and its value E is the vector sum of the two forces along AP and BP due to the two point-charges. It is not difficult to show that
Another equipotential surface is clearly a very small sphere centered around A. The total force from these two point charges must then point in the direction of CP, and its value E is the vector sum of the two forces along AP and BP caused by the two point charges. It's not hard to demonstrate that
E = − (d² − r²) q / rAP³
E = − (d² − r²) q / rAP³
in other words, the force at P is inversely as the cube of the distance from A. Suppose then we remove the negative point-charge, and let the sphere be supposed to become conductive and be connected to earth. If we make a distribution of negative electricity over it, which has a density σ varying according to the law
in other words, the force at P is inversely proportional to the cube of the distance from A. Now, let's say we remove the negative point charge and assume the sphere becomes conductive and is grounded. If we distribute negative electricity over it, which has a density σ that varies according to the law
σ = −(d² − r²) q / 4πrAP³
σ = −(d² − r²) q / 4πrAP³
that distribution, together with the point-charge +q at A, will make a distribution of electric force at all points outside the sphere 249 exactly similar to that which would exist if the sphere were removed and a negative point charge −qr/d were placed at B. Hence this charge is the electrical image of the charge +q at A in the spherical surface.
that distribution, along with the point-charge +q at A, will create an electric force distribution at all points outside the sphere 249 that is exactly like what would occur if the sphere were removed and a negative point charge −qr/d were placed at B. Therefore, this charge is the electrical image of the charge +q at A on the spherical surface.
We may generalize these statements in the following theorem, which is an important deduction from a wider theorem due to G. Green. Suppose that we have any distribution of electricity at rest over conductors, and that we know the potential at all points and consequently the level or equipotential surfaces. Take any equipotential surface enclosing the whole of the electricity, and suppose this to become an actual sheet of metal connected to the earth. It is then a zero potential surface, and every point outside is at zero potential as far as concerns the electric charge on the conductors inside. Then if U is the potential outside the surface due to this electric charge inside alone, and V that due to the opposite charge it induces on the inside of the metal surface, we must have U + V = 0 or U = −V at all points outside the earthed metal surface. Therefore, whatever may be the distribution of electric force produced by the charges inside taken alone, it can be exactly imitated for all space outside the metal surface if we suppose the inside charge removed and a distribution of electricity of the same sign made over the metal surface such that its density follows the law
We can summarize these statements in the following theorem, which is an important conclusion from a broader theorem by G. Green. Imagine we have a distribution of static electricity across conductors, and we know the potential at all points, along with the corresponding level or equipotential surfaces. Consider any equipotential surface that encloses all the electricity and imagine this surface becoming an actual sheet of metal connected to the ground. This would create a zero potential surface, meaning every point outside this surface is at zero potential regarding the electric charge on the conductors inside. If U is the potential outside the surface due to the electric charge inside alone, and V is the potential due to the opposing charge induced on the inner side of the metal surface, we must have U + V = 0 or U = −V at every point outside the grounded metal surface. Therefore, regardless of how the electric force from the inner charges is distributed, this distribution can be perfectly replicated in all space outside the metal surface if we assume the inner charge is removed and a distribution of the same kind of electricity is placed over the metal surface, following the law of density.
σ = −(¼π) dU / dn
σ = −(¼π) dU / dn
where dU/dn is the electric force at that point on the closed equipotential surface considered, due to the original charge alone.
where dU/dn is the electric force at that point on the closed equipotential surface in question, resulting from the original charge only.
Bibliography.—For further developments of the subject we must refer the reader to the numerous excellent treatises on electrostatics now available. The student will find it to be a great advantage to read through Faraday’s three volumes entitled Experimental Researches on Electricity, as soon as he has mastered some modern elementary book giving in compact form a general account of electrical phenomena. For this purpose he may select from the following books: J. Clerk Maxwell, Elementary Treatise on Electricity (Oxford, 1881); J.J. Thomson, Elements of the Mathematical Theory of Electricity and Magnetism (Cambridge, 1895); J.D. Everett, Electricity, founded on part iii. of Deschanel’s Natural Philosophy (London, 1901); G.C. Foster and A.W. Porter, Elementary Treatise on Electricity and Magnetism (London, 1903); S.P. Thompson, Elementary Lessons on Electricity and Magnetism (London, 1903)·
References.—For more developments on the subject, we recommend that readers check out the many excellent books on electrostatics currently available. Students will benefit greatly from reading through Faraday’s three volumes titled Experimental Researches on Electricity as soon as they've gotten a grasp on a modern introductory book that provides a concise overview of electrical phenomena. For this purpose, they can choose from the following books: J. Clerk Maxwell, Elementary Treatise on Electricity (Oxford, 1881); J.J. Thomson, Elements of the Mathematical Theory of Electricity and Magnetism (Cambridge, 1895); J.D. Everett, Electricity, based on part III of Deschanel’s Natural Philosophy (London, 1901); G.C. Foster and A.W. Porter, Elementary Treatise on Electricity and Magnetism (London, 1903); S.P. Thompson, Elementary Lessons on Electricity and Magnetism (London, 1903).
When these elementary books have been digested, the advanced student may proceed to study the following: J. Clerk Maxwell, A Treatise on Electricity and Magnetism (1st ed., Oxford, 1873; 2nd ed. by W.D. Niven, 1881; 3rd ed. by J.J. Thomson, 1892); Joubert and Mascart, Electricity and Magnetism, English translation by E. Atkinson (London, 1883); Watson and Burbury, The Mathematical Theory of Electricity and Magnetism (Oxford, 1885); A. Gray, A Treatise on Magnetism and Electricity (London, 1898). In the collected Scientific Papers of Lord Kelvin (3 vols., Cambridge, 1882), of James Clerk Maxwell (2 vols., Cambridge, 1890), and of Lord Rayleigh (4 vols., Cambridge, 1903), the advanced student will find the means for studying the historical development of electrical knowledge as it has been evolved from the minds of some of the master workers of the 19th century.
When these basic books have been understood, the advanced student can move on to study the following: J. Clerk Maxwell, A Treatise on Electricity and Magnetism (1st ed., Oxford, 1873; 2nd ed. by W.D. Niven, 1881; 3rd ed. by J.J. Thomson, 1892); Joubert and Mascart, Electricity and Magnetism, English translation by E. Atkinson (London, 1883); Watson and Burbury, The Mathematical Theory of Electricity and Magnetism (Oxford, 1885); A. Gray, A Treatise on Magnetism and Electricity (London, 1898). In the collected Scientific Papers of Lord Kelvin (3 vols., Cambridge, 1882), of James Clerk Maxwell (2 vols., Cambridge, 1890), and of Lord Rayleigh (4 vols., Cambridge, 1903), the advanced student will find resources for studying the historical development of electrical knowledge as it has been shaped by some of the leading thinkers of the 19th century.
1 See Maxwell, Elementary Treatise on Electricity (Oxford, 1881), p. 47.
1 See Maxwell, Elementary Treatise on Electricity (Oxford, 1881), p. 47.
2 See Maxwell, Treatise on Electricity and Magnetism (3rd ed., Oxford, 1892), vol. i. p. 80.
2 See Maxwell, Treatise on Electricity and Magnetism (3rd ed., Oxford, 1892), vol. i. p. 80.
3 Maxwell, Ibid. vol. i. § 74a; also Electrical Researches of the Hon. Henry Cavendish, edited by J. Clerk Maxwell (Cambridge, 1879), p. 104.
3 Maxwell, Ibid. vol. i. § 74a; also Electrical Researches of the Hon. Henry Cavendish, edited by J. Clerk Maxwell (Cambridge, 1879), p. 104.
4 Laplace (Mec. Cel. vol. i. ch. ii.) gave the first direct demonstration that no function of the distance except the inverse square can satisfy the condition that a uniform spherical shell exerts no force on a particle within it.
4 Laplace (Mec. Cel. vol. i. ch. ii.) provided the first clear proof that no distance function other than the inverse square can meet the requirement that a uniform spherical shell exerts no force on a particle inside it.
5 The solution of the problem of determining the distribution on an ellipsoid of a fluid the particles of which repel each other with a force inversely as the nth power of the distance was first given by George Green (see Ferrer’s edition of Green’s Collected Papers, p. 119, 1871).
5 The solution to the problem of figuring out how a fluid's particles, which repel each other with a force that decreases as the nth power of the distance, are distributed on an ellipsoid was first provided by George Green (see Ferrer’s edition of Green’s Collected Papers, p. 119, 1871).
6 See Thomson and Tait, Treatise on Natural Philosophy, § 519.
6 See Thomson and Tait, Treatise on Natural Philosophy, § 519.
7 See article “Electricity,” Encyclopaedia Britannica (9th edition), vol. viii. p. 30. The reader is also referred to an article by Lord Kelvin (Reprint of Papers on Electrostatics and Magnetism, p. 178), entitled “Determination of the Distribution of Electricity on a Circular Segment of a Plane, or Spherical Conducting Surface under any given Influence,” where another equivalent expression is given for the capacity of an ellipsoid.
7 See article “Electricity,” Encyclopaedia Britannica (9th edition), vol. viii. p. 30. The reader is also directed to an article by Lord Kelvin (Reprint of Papers on Electrostatics and Magnetism, p. 178), titled “Determination of the Distribution of Electricity on a Circular Segment of a Plane, or Spherical Conducting Surface under any given Influence,” which presents another equivalent expression for the capacity of an ellipsoid.
8 See Maxwell, Electricity and Magnetism, vol. i. pp. 284-305 (3rd ed., 1892).
8 See Maxwell, Electricity and Magnetism, vol. i. pp. 284-305 (3rd ed., 1892).
9 It is an interesting fact that Cavendish measured capacity in “globular inches,” using as his unit the capacity of a metal ball, 1 in. in diameter. Hence multiplication of his values for capacities by 2.54 reduces them to E.S. units in the C.G.S. system. See Elec. Res. p. 347.
9 It’s interesting that Cavendish measured capacity in “globular inches,” using the capacity of a metal ball that’s 1 inch in diameter as his unit. Therefore, multiplying his capacity values by 2.54 converts them to E.S. units in the C.G.S. system. See Elec. Res. p. 347.
10 For fuller details of these methods of comparison of capacities see J.A. Fleming, A Handbook for the Electrical Laboratory and Testing Room, vol. ii. ch. ii. (London, 1903).
10 For more details on these methods for comparing capacities, see J.A. Fleming, A Handbook for the Electrical Laboratory and Testing Room, vol. ii. ch. ii. (London, 1903).
11 See Fleming, Handbook for the Electrical Laboratory, vol. ii. p. 130.
11 See Fleming, Handbook for the Electrical Laboratory, vol. ii. p. 130.
12 Faraday, Experimental Researches on Electricity, vol. i. § 1252. For a very complete set of tables of dielectric constants of solids, liquids and gases see A. Winkelmann, Handbuch der Physik, vol. iv. pp. 98-148 (Breslau, 1905); also see Landolt and Börnstein’s Tables of Physical Constants (Berlin, 1894).
12 Faraday, Experimental Researches on Electricity, vol. i. § 1252. For a comprehensive set of tables of dielectric constants for solids, liquids, and gases, check out A. Winkelmann, Handbuch der Physik, vol. iv. pp. 98-148 (Breslau, 1905); also refer to Landolt and Börnstein’s Tables of Physical Constants (Berlin, 1894).
13 See the following papers by J.A. Fleming and James Dewar on dielectric constants at low temperatures: “On the Dielectric Constant of Liquid Oxygen and Liquid Air,” Proc. Roy. Soc., 1897, 60, p. 360; “Note on the Dielectric Constant of Ice and Alcohol at very low Temperatures,” ib., 1897, 61, p. 2; “On the Dielectric Constants of Pure Ice, Glycerine, Nitrobenzol and Ethylene Dibromide at and above the Temperature of Liquid Air,” id. ib. p. 316; “On the Dielectric Constant of Certain Frozen Electrolytes at and above the Temperature of Liquid Air,” id. ib. p. 299—this paper describes the cone condenser and methods used; “Further Observations on the Dielectric Constants of Frozen Electrolytes at and above the Temperature of Liquid Air,” id. ib. p. 381; “The Dielectric Constants of Certain Organic Bodies at and below the Temperature of Liquid Air,” id. ib. p. 358; “On the Dielectric Constants of Metallic Oxides dissolved or suspended in Ice cooled to the Temperature of Liquid Air,” id. ib. p. 368.
13 Check out the following papers by J.A. Fleming and James Dewar on dielectric constants at low temperatures: “On the Dielectric Constant of Liquid Oxygen and Liquid Air,” Proc. Roy. Soc., 1897, 60, p. 360; “Note on the Dielectric Constant of Ice and Alcohol at very low Temperatures,” ib., 1897, 61, p. 2; “On the Dielectric Constants of Pure Ice, Glycerine, Nitrobenzol and Ethylene Dibromide at and above the Temperature of Liquid Air,” id. ib. p. 316; “On the Dielectric Constant of Certain Frozen Electrolytes at and above the Temperature of Liquid Air,” id. ib. p. 299—this paper describes the cone condenser and methods used; “Further Observations on the Dielectric Constants of Frozen Electrolytes at and above the Temperature of Liquid Air,” id. ib. p. 381; “The Dielectric Constants of Certain Organic Bodies at and below the Temperature of Liquid Air,” id. ib. p. 358; “On the Dielectric Constants of Metallic Oxides dissolved or suspended in Ice cooled to the Temperature of Liquid Air,” id. ib. p. 368.
14 See Faraday, Experimental Researches, vol. i. § 1245; R.H.A. Kohlrausch, Pogg. Ann., 1854, 91; see also Maxwell, Electricity and Magnetism, vol. i. § 327, who shows that a composite or stratified dielectric composed of layers of materials of different dielectric constants and resistivities would exhibit the property of residual charge.
14 See Faraday, Experimental Researches, vol. i. § 1245; R.H.A. Kohlrausch, Pogg. Ann., 1854, 91; see also Maxwell, Electricity and Magnetism, vol. i. § 327, who demonstrates that a layered dielectric made up of materials with different dielectric constants and resistivities would show the characteristic of residual charge.
15 Fleming and Ashton, “On a Model which imitates the behaviour of Dielectrics.” Phil. Mag., 1901 [6], 2, p. 228.
15 Fleming and Ashton, “On a Model that Imitates the Behavior of Dielectrics.” Phil. Mag., 1901 [6], 2, p. 228.
16 The beginner is often puzzled by the constant appearance of the factor 4π in electrical theorems. It arises from the manner in which the unit quantity of electricity is defined. The electric force due to a point-charge q at a distance r is defined to be q/r², and the total flux or induction through the sphere of radius r is therefore 4πq. If, however, the unit point charge were defined to be that which produces a unit of electric flux through a circumscribing spherical surface or the electric force at distance r defined to be ¼πr², many theorems would be enunciated in simpler forms.
16 Beginners often get confused by the recurring appearance of the factor 4π in electrical theories. This factor comes from how the unit quantity of electricity is defined. The electric force created by a point charge q at a distance r is defined as q/r², making the total flux or induction through a sphere of radius r equal to 4πq. However, if the unit point charge were defined as the one that produces a unit of electric flux through a surrounding spherical surface, or if the electric force at distance r were defined as ¼πr², many theorems would be expressed in simpler ways.
17 See Maxwell, Electricity and Magnetism, vol. i. § 78b (2nd ed.).
17 See Maxwell, Electricity and Magnetism, vol. 1, § 78b (2nd ed.).
18 Id. ib. vol. i. § 80. Coulomb proved the proportionality of electric surface force to density, but the above numerical relation E = 4πσ was first established by Poisson.
18 Id. ib. vol. i. § 80. Coulomb demonstrated that the electric surface force is proportional to density, but the numerical relationship E = 4πσ was first established by Poisson.
19 See Maxwell, Electricity and Magnetism, vol. i. § 99a (3rd ed., 1892), where the expression in question is deduced as a corollary of Green’s theorem.
19 See Maxwell, Electricity and Magnetism, vol. i. § 99a (3rd ed., 1892), where the expression in question is derived as a corollary to Green’s theorem.
ELECTROTHERAPEUTICS, a general term for the use of electricity in therapeutics, i.e. in the alleviation and cure of disease. Before the different forms of medical treatment are dealt with, a few points in connexion with the machines and currents, of special interest to the medical reader, must first be given.
Faradism.—For the battery required either for faradism or galvanism, cells of the Leclanché type are the most satisfactory. Being dry they can be carried in any position, are lighter, and there is no trouble from the erosion of wires and binding screws, such as so often results from wet cells. The best method of producing a smooth current in the secondary coil is for the interruptor hammer to vibrate directly against the iron core of the primary coil. For this it is best that the interruptor be made of a piece of steel spring, as a high rate of interruption can then be maintained, with a fairly smooth current in the secondary coil. This form of interruptor necessitates that the iron core be fixed, and variation in the primary induced current is arranged for by slipping a brass tube more or less over the iron core, thus cutting off the magnetic field from the primary coil. The secondary current (that obtained from the secondary coil) can be varied by keeping the secondary coil permanently fixed over the primary and varying the strength of the primary current. Where, as suggested above, the iron core is fixed, the primary and secondary induced currents will be at their strongest when the brass tube is completely withdrawn. As there is no simple means of measuring the strength of the faradic current, it is best to start with a very weak current, testing it on the muscles of one’s own hand until these begin to contract and a definite sensory effect is produced; the current can then be applied to the part, being strengthened only very gradually.
Faradism.—For the battery needed for either faradism or galvanism, Leclanché-type cells are the most effective. Since they are dry, they can be used in any position, they’re lighter, and there’s no issue with wire erosion or binding screws, which often happens with wet cells. The best way to create a consistent current in the secondary coil is for the interruptor hammer to vibrate directly against the iron core of the primary coil. For this purpose, it’s ideal that the interruptor is made from a piece of steel spring, as it can maintain a high interruption rate while producing a fairly steady current in the secondary coil. This type of interruptor requires the iron core to be fixed, and adjustments in the primary induced current are made by slipping a brass tube partially over the iron core, which then cuts off the magnetic field from the primary coil. The secondary current (the one obtained from the secondary coil) can be adjusted by keeping the secondary coil fixed over the primary and changing the strength of the primary current. When the iron core is fixed, as mentioned earlier, the primary and secondary induced currents will be at their strongest when the brass tube is completely removed. Since there’s no straightforward way to measure the strength of the faradic current, it’s best to start with a very weak current, testing it on the muscles of your own hand until they start to contract and a noticeable sensory effect occurs; the current can then be applied to the targeted area, increasing the strength only very gradually.
Galvanism.—For treatment by galvanism a large battery is needed, the simplest form being known as a “patient’s battery,” consisting of a variable number of dry cells arranged in series. The cells used are those of Leclanché, with E.M.F. (or voltage) of 1.5 and an internal resistance of .3 ohm. Thus the exact strength of the current is known; the number of cells usually employed is 24, and when new give an E.M.F. of about 36 volts. By using the formula C = E/R, where E is the voltage of the battery, R the total resistance of battery, electrodes and the patient’s skin and tissues, and C the current in amperes, the number of cells required for any particular current can be worked out. The resistance of the patient’s skin must be made as low as possible by thoroughly wetting both skin and electrodes with sodium bicarbonate solution, and keeping the electrodes in very close apposition to the skin. A galvanometer is always fitted to the battery, usually of the d’Arsonval type, with a shunt by means of which, on turning a screw, nine-tenths of the inducing current can be short-circuited away, and the solenoid only influenced by one-tenth of the current which is being used on the patient. In districts where electric power is available the continuous current can be used by means of a switchboard. A current of much value for electrotherapeutic purposes is the sinusoidal current, by which is meant an alternating current whose curve of electromotive force, in both positive and negative phase, varies constantly and smoothly in what is known as the sine curve. In those districts supplied by an alternating current, the sinusoidal current can be obtained from the mains by passing it through various transformers, but where the main supply is the direct or constant current, a motor transformer is needed.
Galvanism.—For treatment with galvanism, a large battery is needed, the simplest type being referred to as a “patient’s battery,” which consists of a variable number of dry cells connected in series. The cells used are Leclanché cells, with an E.M.F. (or voltage) of 1.5 and an internal resistance of .3 ohm. This way, the exact strength of the current is known; the typical number of cells used is 24, and when new, they provide an E.M.F. of about 36 volts. By using the formula C = E/R, where E is the battery's voltage, R is the total resistance of the battery, electrodes, and the patient’s skin and tissues, and C is the current in amperes, you can calculate the number of cells needed for any specific current. The resistance of the patient’s skin should be minimized by thoroughly wetting both the skin and electrodes with a sodium bicarbonate solution, and keeping the electrodes very close to the skin. A galvanometer is always included with the battery, usually of the d’Arsonval type, featuring a shunt that, by turning a screw, allows nine-tenths of the inducing current to be short-circuited, with the solenoid only affected by one-tenth of the current being used on the patient. In areas with electric power available, the continuous current can be utilized via a switchboard. A very useful current for electrotherapeutic purposes is the sinusoidal current, which refers to an alternating current whose electromotive force curve, in both positive and negative phases, changes constantly and smoothly in what is known as the sine curve. In areas supplied with alternating current, sinusoidal current can be obtained from the mains by passing it through various transformers, but where the main supply is direct or constant current, a motor transformer is required.
Static Electricity.—For treatment by static electricity the Wimshurst type of machine is the one most generally used. A number of electrodes are required; thus for the application of sparks a brass ball and brass roller electrode, for the “breeze” a single point and a multiple point electrode, and another multiple point electrode in the form of a metal cap that can be placed over the patient’s head. The polarity of the machine must always be tested, as either knob may become positive or negative, though the polarity rarely changes when once the machine is in action. The oldest method of subjecting a patient to electric influence is that in which static electricity is employed. The patient is insulated on a suitable platform and treated by means of charges and discharges from an electrical machine. The effect is to increase the regularity and frequency of the pulse, raise the blood pressure and increase the action of the skin. The nervous system is quieted, sleep being promoted, the patient often becoming drowsy during the application. If while the patient is being treated a point electrode is brought towards him he feels the sensation of a wind blowing from that point; this is an electric breeze or brush discharge. The breeze is negative if the patient is positively charged and vice versa. The “breeze discharge” treatment is especially valuable in subduing pain of the superficial cutaneous nerves, and also in the treatment of chronic indolent ulcers. Quite recently this form of treatment has been applied with much success to various skin lesions—psoriasis, eczema and pruritus. Static electricity is also utilized for medical purposes by means of “sparks,” which are administered with a ball electrode, the result being a sudden muscular contraction at the point of application. The electrode must be rapidly withdrawn before a second spark has time to leap across, as this is a severe form of treatment and must be administered slowly. It is mainly employed for muscular stimulation, and the contractions resulting from spark stimulation can be produced in cases of nerve injury and degeneration, even when the muscles have lost their reaction to faradism. The sensory stimulation of this form of treatment is also strong, and is useful in hysterical anaesthesia and functional paralysis. Where a milder sensory stimulation is required friction can be used, the electrode being in the form of a metal roller which is moved rapidly outside the 250 patient’s clothing over the spine or other part to be treated. The clothing must be dry and of wool, and each additional woollen layer intensifies the effect.
Static Electricity.—For treatment using static electricity, the Wimshurst machine is the most commonly used type. A variety of electrodes are needed; for applying sparks, you’ll need a brass ball and a brass roller electrode, while a single point and a multiple point electrode are used for the “breeze,” along with another multiple point electrode shaped like a metal cap that can be placed over the patient’s head. Always check the machine’s polarity since either knob can be positive or negative, although the polarity usually stays the same once the machine is running. The oldest method of exposing a patient to electric influence involves using static electricity. The patient is insulated on a suitable platform and treated with charges and discharges from an electrical machine. The effects include improved regularity and frequency of the pulse, increased blood pressure, and enhanced skin activity. The nervous system calms down, promoting sleep, and the patient often becomes drowsy during the treatment. If a point electrode is brought toward the patient while they're being treated, they feel a sensation like a breeze coming from that point; this is an electric breeze or brush discharge. The breeze is negative if the patient is positively charged, and vice versa. The “breeze discharge” treatment is particularly useful in alleviating pain from superficial cutaneous nerves and in treating chronic stubborn ulcers. Recently, this treatment has been successfully applied to various skin issues—like psoriasis, eczema, and itching. Static electricity is also used for medical purposes through “sparks,” which are delivered with a ball electrode, causing a sudden muscle contraction at the application site. The electrode should be quickly withdrawn before a second spark can jump, as this is a strong form of treatment that should be administered slowly. It’s mainly used for muscle stimulation, and the contractions from spark stimulation can occur in cases of nerve injury and degeneration, even when the muscles have lost their response to faradism. The sensory stimulation from this treatment is also significant and beneficial for hysterical anesthesia and functional paralysis. When a gentler sensory stimulation is needed, friction can be employed using an electrode in the shape of a metal roller, which is quickly moved outside the 250 patient’s clothing over the spine or another area to be treated. The clothing must be dry and made of wool, and each additional wool layer amplifies the effect.
Another method of employing electricity at high potential is by the employment of high frequency currents. There are two methods of application: that in which brush discharges are made use of, with undoubtedly good effects in many of the diseases affecting the surface of the body, and that in which the currents of the solenoid are made to traverse the patient directly. The physiological value of the latter method is not certain, though one point of interest in connexion with it is that whereas statical applications raise the blood pressure, high frequency applications lower it. It has been used in the case of old people with arterio-sclerosis, and the reduction of blood pressure produced is said to have shown considerable permanence.
Another way to use electricity at high voltage is through high-frequency currents. There are two ways to apply this: one involves using brush discharges, which have been proven effective for many skin-related diseases, and the other directly sends the currents from the solenoid through the patient. The physiological benefits of the latter method are unclear, but one interesting point is that while static applications raise blood pressure, high-frequency applications actually lower it. This method has been used for older patients with arteriosclerosis, and the drop in blood pressure is reported to be quite lasting.
The Faradic Current.—G.B. Duchenne was the first physician to make use of the induced current for treatment, and the term “faradization” is supposed to be due to him. But in his day the differences between the two currents available, the primary and the secondary, were not worked out, and they were used somewhat indiscriminately. Nowadays it is generally accepted that the primary current should be used for the stimulation of deep-lying organs, as stomach and intestines, &c., while the secondary current is employed for stimulation of the limb muscles and the cutaneous sensory nerves. The faradic current is also used as a means of diagnosis for neuro-muscular conditions. When the interrupted current is used to stimulate the skin over a motor nerve, all the muscles supplied by that nerve are thrown into rapid tetanic contraction, the contraction both beginning and ceasing sharply and suddenly with the current. This is the normal reaction of the nerve to faradism. If the muscle be wasted from disuse or some local cause unconnected with its nerve-supply, the contraction is smaller, and both arises and relaxes more slowly. But if the lesion lies in the nerve itself, as in Bell’s palsy, the muscles no longer show any response when the nerve is stimulated, and this is known as the reaction of degeneration in the nerve. It is usually preceded by a condition of hyperexcitability. These results are applied to distinguish between functional paralysis and that due to some organic lesion, as in the former case the reaction of faradism will be as brisk as usual. Also at the beginning of most cases of infantile paralysis many more groups of muscles appear to be affected than ultimately prove to be, and faradism enables the physician to distinguish between those groups of muscles that are permanently paralysed owing to the destruction of their trophic centre, and those muscles which are only temporarily inhibited from shock, and which with proper treatment will later regain their full power. In the testing of muscles electrically that point on the skin which on stimulation gives the maximum contraction for that muscle is known as the “motor point” for that muscle. It usually corresponds to the entry of the motor nerve. Faradic treatment may be employed in the weakness and emaciation depending on any long illness, rickets, anaemia, &c. For these cases it is best to use the electric bath, the patient being placed in warm water, and the two electrodes, one at the patient’s back and the other at his feet, being connected with the secondary coil. The patient’s general metabolism is stimulated, he eats and sleeps better and soon begins to put on weight. This is especially beneficial in severe cases of rickets. In the weakness and emaciation due to neurasthenia, especially in those cases being treated by the Weir Mitchell method (isolation, absolute confinement to bed, massage and overfeeding), a similar faradic bath is a very helpful adjunct. In tabes dorsalis faradic treatment will often diminish the anaesthesia and numbness in the legs, with resulting benefit to the ataxy. Perhaps the most beneficial use of the faradic current is in the treatment of chronic constipation—especially that so frequently met with in young women and due to deficient muscular power of the intestinal walls. In long-standing cases the large intestine becomes permanently dilated, and its muscular fibres so attenuated as to have no power over the intestinal contents. But faradism causes contraction at the point of stimulation, and the peristaltic wave thus started slowly progresses along the bowel. All that is needed is a special electrode for introduction into the bowel and an ordinary roller electrode. The rectal electrode consists of a 6-inch wire bearing at one end a small metal knob and fitted at the other into a metal cup which screws into the handle of the electrode. The only part exposed is the metallic knob; the rest is coated with some insulating material. The patient reclines on a couch on his back, the rectal electrode is connected, and having been vaselined is passed some three inches into the rectum. A current is started with the secondary coil in such a position as to give only an extremely weak current. The roller electrode is then wetted with hot water and applied to the front of the abdomen. At first the patient should feel nothing, but the current should slowly be increased until a faint response is perceptible from the abdominal muscles. This gives the required strength, and the roller electrode, pressed well into the abdominal wall, should very slowly be moved along the course of the large intestine beginning at the right iliac fossa. Thus a combination of massage and faradic current is obtained, and the results are particularly satisfactory. Treatment should be given on alternate days immediately after breakfast, and should be persevered with for six or eight weeks. The patient can be taught to administer it to himself.
The Faradic Current.—G.B. Duchenne was the first doctor to use induced current for treatment, and the term “faradization” is thought to have originated with him. However, during his time, the differences between the two available currents, primary and secondary, weren’t fully understood, and they were used somewhat interchangeably. Today, it is generally recognized that the primary current should be used to stimulate deep organs like the stomach and intestines, while the secondary current is used for stimulating limb muscles and skin sensory nerves. The faradic current is also utilized for diagnosing neuro-muscular conditions. When an interrupted current stimulates the skin over a motor nerve, all muscles supplied by that nerve contract rapidly, starting and stopping sharply with the current. This is the standard response of the nerve to faradism. If the muscle has weakened from disuse or another local cause unrelated to its nerve supply, the contraction is weaker and both its onset and relaxation are slower. However, if the problem is with the nerve itself, as seen in Bell’s palsy, the muscles will no longer respond to nerve stimulation, a condition known as the reaction of degeneration in the nerve. This is usually preceded by a state of hyperexcitability. These outcomes help differentiate between functional paralysis and paralysis due to an organic lesion; in the former, the reaction to faradism will be as brisk as usual. Additionally, at the onset of many cases of infantile paralysis, more muscle groups appear to be affected than ultimately are, and faradism helps the doctor distinguish between those muscle groups that are permanently paralyzed because of damage to their trophic center and those muscles that are only temporarily inhibited due to shock, which will regain full power with appropriate treatment. When testing muscles electrically, the point on the skin that produces the greatest contraction for that muscle is referred to as the “motor point.” This typically corresponds to where the motor nerve enters. Faradic treatment can be used for weakness and emaciation resulting from an extended illness, rickets, anemia, etc. For these cases, the electric bath is the best option, with the patient placed in warm water and two electrodes, one on the patient’s back and the other at their feet, connected to the secondary coil. This stimulates the patient’s overall metabolism, improves appetite and sleep, and leads to weight gain, especially beneficial in severe rickets cases. In cases of weakness and emaciation due to neurasthenia, particularly those treated by the Weir Mitchell method (isolation, strict bed rest, massage, and overfeeding), a similar faradic bath can be a very helpful addition. For tabes dorsalis, faradic treatment can often reduce numbness and loss of sensation in the legs, improving ataxia. Perhaps the most effective use of the faradic current is in treating chronic constipation, especially common in young women and resulting from poor muscle strength in the intestinal walls. In long-term cases, the large intestine can become permanently enlarged, and its muscle fibers can weaken to the point of losing control over intestinal contents. However, faradism induces contractions at the stimulation site, creating a peristaltic wave that gradually moves along the bowel. All that’s needed is a special electrode for insertion into the bowel and a regular roller electrode. The rectal electrode consists of a 6-inch wire with a small metal knob at one end, which connects to a metal cup that screws into the electrode handle. Only the metallic knob is exposed; the rest is covered with insulating material. The patient lies on their back on a couch, and after the rectal electrode is lubricated with petroleum jelly and inserted about three inches into the rectum, a weak current is activated using the secondary coil. The roller electrode is then moistened with hot water and applied to the front of the abdomen. Initially, the patient shouldn’t feel anything, but the current is gradually increased until a slight response from the abdominal muscles is noticeable. This sets the required strength, and the roller electrode, pressed firmly into the abdominal wall, should be slowly moved along the large intestine, starting from the right iliac fossa. This method combines massage with the faradic current, resulting in particularly satisfactory outcomes. Treatments should be administered on alternate days right after breakfast and continued for six to eight weeks. Patients can be taught to self-administer it.
The Galvanic, Continuous or Direct Current.—In using the galvanic or direct current the electrode must be covered with padded webbing or some other absorbent material, the metal of the electrode never being allowed to come in contact with the skin. The padding by retaining moisture helps to make good contact, and also helps to guard against burning the skin. But when a continuous current of 3 am. or more is passed for more than 5 min. the electrodes must be raised periodically and the skin inspected. If the current be too strong or applied for too long a time, small blisters are raised which break and are very troublesome to heal. Nor does the patient always feel much pain when this occurs. Also the electrodes must be remoistened every five or six minutes, as they soon become dry, and the skin will then be burnt. It is best to use a solution of sodium bicarbonate. Again, the danger of burning the skin depends on the density of the current per sq. in. of electrode, so that a strong current through a small electrode will burn the skin, whereas the same current through a larger electrode will produce a beneficial effect. If the patient be immersed up to his neck in an electric bath, much stronger currents can be passed without causing either pain or injury, as in this case the whole area of the skin in contact with the water acts as an electrode. In passing the current it must be remembered that the negative electrode or kathode is the more painful of the two, and its action more stimulating than the positive electrode or anode, which is sedative. If a muscle be stimulated over its motor point, it will contract with a sharp twitch and then become quiescent. With normal muscle the KCC (kathodal closure contraction) is stronger than that produced by the closure of the current at the anode ACC (anodal closure contraction). And if the muscle be normal the opening contraction KOC and AOC are not seen. When a galvanic current is passed along a nerve its excitability is increased at the kathode and diminished at the anode. The increased excitability at the kathode is katelectrotonus, and the lowered excitability at the anode anelectrotonus. But since in a patient the electrode cannot be applied directly to the nerve, the lines of force from the electrode pass into the nerve both in an upward and downward direction, and hence there are two poles produced by each electrode. If the current be suddenly reversed, so that what was the anode becomes the kathode, a stronger contraction is obtained than by simply making and breaking the current. To avoid the four poles on the nerve to be tested, it is found most satisfactory to have one electrode placed at some distance, on the back or chest, not on the same limb.
The Galvanic, Continuous or Direct Current.—When using the galvanic or direct current, the electrode should be covered with padded webbing or another absorbent material, ensuring the metal does not touch the skin. The padding retains moisture, which helps create a good connection and protects against skin burns. However, if a continuous current of 3 amps or more is used for over 5 minutes, the electrodes should be lifted periodically and the skin checked. If the current is too strong or applied for too long, small blisters can form, which break open and can be difficult to heal. The patient may not always feel significant pain when this happens. Additionally, the electrodes should be remoistened every five to six minutes, as they dry out quickly and can burn the skin. A solution of sodium bicarbonate is recommended. The risk of skin burns depends on the current density per square inch of the electrode; a strong current through a small electrode can cause burns, while the same current through a larger electrode can be beneficial. If a patient is immersed up to their neck in an electric bath, much higher currents can be tolerated without causing pain or injury since the entire skin area in contact with the water acts as an electrode. It’s important to note that the negative electrode (cathode) is more painful and stimulating than the positive electrode (anode), which is sedative. When a muscle is stimulated at its motor point, it contracts sharply and then relaxes. In normal muscle, the kathodal closure contraction (KCC) is stronger than the anodal closure contraction (ACC). If the muscle is normal, the opening contractions (KOC and AOC) are not observed. When a galvanic current passes through a nerve, its excitability increases at the cathode and decreases at the anode. The increased excitability at the cathode is known as katelectrotonus, while the decreased excitability at the anode is called anelectrotonus. However, since the electrode cannot be applied directly to the nerve in a patient, the lines of force from the electrode travel into the nerve both upward and downward, creating two poles for each electrode. If the current is suddenly reversed, causing what was the anode to become the cathode, a stronger contraction is achieved than simply making and breaking the current. To avoid the formation of four poles on the nerve being tested, it is most effective to place one electrode at a distance, on the back or chest, rather than on the same limb.
As explained above, when the nerve supplying a muscle is diseased it no longer responds to the faradic current. On further testing this with the galvanic or continuous current it responds, but the contraction is not brisk but begins slowly and relaxes 251 slowly, though the contraction as a whole may be larger than that of a normal muscle. This excessive contraction is known as hyperexcitability to galvanism. This form of contraction is that obtained when the muscle fibre itself is stimulated. Again, whereas in normal muscle KCC > ACC, when the nerve is degenerated KCC = ACC or ACC > KCC. Also in the more severe forms of nerve injury tetanic contractions may be set up in the paralysed muscles, by closure of the current either at the anode or kathode. These charges are known as the reaction of degeneration or RD, and are of great value in diagnosis. They occur only after sudden or acute damage to the nerve cells of the anterior horn of the spinal cord, or to the motor nerve fibres proceeding from these cells. Thus RD is present in infantile paralysis, acute neuritis, &c., but absent in progressive muscular atrophy where the wasting of nerve and muscle takes place extremely slowly. The reaction of degeneration in the nerve is shown by disappearance of reaction to either kind of current, preceded for some days by hyperexcitability to either current. Where the muscle wasting is due to a lesion in the muscle alone, as in ischaemic myositis (usually due to injury from tight bandaging or badly applied splints), no reaction of degeneration is found; the only change is a loss of power in the contraction. If the damage to the anterior horn cells be only very slight, there may only be partial RD, and the prognosis is given according to the extent of RD. From this account it is clear that the greatest value of the continuous current lies in its use in diagnosis. But it is also applied extremely successfully, in combination with massage, to cases of infantile paralysis. Wrist drop from lead poisoning and lead neuritis of all kinds, reflex muscular atrophy and the muscular wasting of hemiplegia, are all benefited by the continuous current; the severe pain of sciatica, and the inflammation of the nerve sheath in these cases, can be arrested more quickly by galvanic treatment than in any other way. Nearly all forms of neuritis, both of the cranial and other nerves, are best treated by the continuous current. The action in all cases is to stimulate the natural tendency to repair, very largely by improving the circulation through the injured parts.
As mentioned earlier, when the nerve that controls a muscle is damaged, it doesn’t respond to the faradic current anymore. However, when tested with galvanic or continuous current, it does respond, but the contraction isn’t quick; it starts slowly and relaxes slowly, even though the overall contraction may be stronger than that of a healthy muscle. This excessive contraction is called hyperexcitability to galvanism. This type of contraction happens when the muscle fiber itself is stimulated. In normal muscle, KCC > ACC, but when the nerve is damaged, KCC = ACC or ACC > KCC. In more severe cases of nerve injury, tetanic contractions can occur in the paralyzed muscles when the current is closed either at the anode or cathode. These responses are known as the reaction of degeneration (RD) and are very important for diagnosis. They happen only after sudden or acute damage to the nerve cells in the anterior horn of the spinal cord or to the motor nerve fibers that come from these cells. Therefore, RD is found in conditions like infantile paralysis and acute neuritis, but is absent in progressive muscular atrophy where nerve and muscle degeneration happens very slowly. The reaction of degeneration in the nerve is indicated by the loss of response to either type of current, which is preceded by hyperexcitability to either current for several days. If muscle wasting is due to a problem only in the muscle, like ischaemic myositis (typically from injuries caused by tight bandaging or poorly applied splints), there’s no reaction of degeneration; the only change is a loss of contraction power. If the damage to the anterior horn cells is minimal, there might only be partial RD, and the prognosis is determined by how extensive the RD is. From this explanation, it’s clear that the greatest benefit of the continuous current lies in its diagnostic use. It is also very effectively used, along with massage, for cases of infantile paralysis. Conditions like wrist drop from lead poisoning and lead neuritis of all kinds, reflex muscular atrophy, and muscle wasting from hemiplegia all improve with the continuous current; the severe pain of sciatica and the inflammation of the nerve sheath in these cases can be relieved more quickly with galvanic treatment than in any other way. Nearly all types of neuritis, whether involving cranial nerves or others, are best treated with the continuous current. The action in all cases helps stimulate the body’s natural repair process, largely by improving circulation to the injured areas.
Another effect of an electric current is electrolysis, and the phenomena of electrolytic conduction involve not merely the ionization of the compounds, but also the setting in motion of the ions towards their respective poles. Solutions which conduct electric currents are called electrolytes, and in the case of the human body the electrolyte is the whole mass of the saline constituents in solution throughout the body. When a current is passed through an electrolyte, dissociation into ions takes place, the ions which are freed round the anode being called anions and those which are freed round the kathode being called kations. The anions carry negative charges and are consequently attracted by the positive electricity of the anode. The kations carry positive charges, hence they are repelled by the anode and attracted by the kathode. But a certain number of molecules do not dissociate, and hence in an electrolytic solution there are neutral molecules, anions and kations. The chemical actions, and thus the antiseptic, remedial or toxic effects of electrolytes, are due to the actions of their ions. The phosphides and phosphates may be taken as examples. Some are extremely toxic, while others are quite harmless. But it is to the phosphorus ion that the toxic or therapeutic effect is due. In the phosphates the phosphorus is part of a complex ion possessing quite different properties to those of the phosphorus ion of the phosphides. The strikingly different effects of the sulphates and sulphides are due to similar conditions, as also of many other compounds. There are certain solvents, as alcohol, chloroform, glycerin and vaseline which do not dissociate electrolytes, and consequently the latter become inert when mixed with these solvents. These solutions do not conduct electricity, and hence ionic effects are extremely slow. A vaseline ointment containing 5% of phenol makes a good dressing for an ulcer of the leg, and produces no irritant effect, but a 5% aqueous solution may be both caustic and toxic. Since the toxic or therapeutic action of a solution is due to its ions, the action must be proportional to the number of ions in a given volume, that is, the action of an electrolyte depends on the degree of dissociation. Thus a strong acid is one that is much dissociated, a weak acid one that has undergone but little dissociation and so on. In 1896-1897 it was shown that the bactericidal action of salts varies with their degree of dissociation and therefore depends on the concentration of the active ions. In the medical application of these facts it must be remembered that when an ion is introduced into the body by electrolysis, it is probably forced into the actual cellular constituents of the body, whereas the drug administered by one of the usual methods though circulating in the blood may perhaps never gain access to the cell itself. Hence the different effects that have been recorded between a drug administered by the mouth or subcutaneously and the same administered by electrolysis. Thus a solution of cocaine injected subcutaneously produces quite different effects to that introduced by electrolysis. By the latter method it produces anaesthesia but does not diffuse, and the anaesthesia remains strictly limited to the surface covered by the electrode. It would appear that the ion is never introduced into the general circulation but into the cell plasma.
Another effect of electric current is electrolysis, and the process of electrolytic conduction involves not just the ionization of compounds, but also the movement of ions toward their respective poles. Solutions that conduct electric currents are called electrolytes, and in the case of the human body, the electrolyte is the entire mass of saline compounds dissolved throughout the body. When a current flows through an electrolyte, dissociation into ions occurs, with the ions released around the anode called anions and those released around the cathode labeled cations. Anions carry negative charges and are drawn to the positive charge of the anode. Cations carry positive charges, so they are repelled by the anode and attracted to the cathode. However, some molecules do not dissociate, which means that in an electrolytic solution, there are neutral molecules, anions, and cations. The chemical actions, and therefore the antiseptic, medicinal, or toxic effects of electrolytes, result from the behavior of their ions. Phosphides and phosphates serve as examples; some are highly toxic, while others are harmless. The toxic or therapeutic effect comes from the phosphorus ion. In phosphates, the phosphorus is part of a complex ion with properties quite different from those of the phosphorus ion in phosphides. The notably different effects of sulfates and sulfides arise from similar situations, as well as many other compounds. Certain solvents, like alcohol, chloroform, glycerin, and vaseline, do not dissociate electrolytes, rendering them inert when mixed with these solvents. These solutions do not conduct electricity, so ionic effects occur very slowly. A vaseline ointment containing 5% phenol makes an effective dressing for a leg ulcer and causes no irritation, but a 5% aqueous solution may be both caustic and toxic. Since the toxic or therapeutic action of a solution is linked to its ions, the effect must correspond to the number of ions in a given volume; that is, the action of an electrolyte depends on the degree of dissociation. A strong acid is one that is significantly dissociated, while a weak acid has undergone little dissociation, and so on. In 1896-1897, it was demonstrated that the bactericidal action of salts varies with their degree of dissociation, and therefore, it depends on the concentration of the active ions. When applying these facts in medicine, it is important to note that when an ion is introduced into the body via electrolysis, it is likely forced into the actual cellular components of the body, whereas a drug given through traditional methods, while circulating in the blood, may never reach the cell itself. This explains the different effects observed between a drug taken orally or subcutaneously and the same drug administered through electrolysis. For example, a subcutaneously injected solution of cocaine has markedly different effects than when introduced via electrolysis. With the latter method, it produces local anesthesia but does not diffuse, keeping the anesthesia strictly limited to the area covered by the electrode. It seems that the ion is introduced not into the general circulation but into the cell plasma.
In the technical working of medical electrolysis the most minute precautions are required. The solution of the drug must be made with as pure water as possible, recently distilled. The spongy substance forming the electrode must be free from any trace of electrolytic substances. Hence all materials used must be washed in distilled water. Absorbent cotton answers all requirements and is easily procured. The area of introduction can be exactly circumscribed by cutting a hole in a sheet of adhesive plaster which is applied to the skin and on which the electrolytic electrodes are pressed. The great advantage of electrolytic methods is that it enables general treatment to be replaced by a strictly local treatment, and the cells can be saturated exactly to the degree and depth required. Strong antiseptics and materials that coagulate albumen cannot be introduced locally by ordinary methods, as the skin is impermeable to them, but by electrolysis they can be introduced to the exact depth required. The local effects of the ions depend on the dosage; thus a feeble dose of the ions of zinc stimulates the growth of hair, but a stronger dose produces the death of the tissue. Naturally the different ions produce different effects. Thus the ions of the alkalis and magnesium are caustic, those of the alkaline earthy metals produce actual mortification of the tissue and so on. According to the ion chosen the effect may be caustic in various degrees, antiseptic, coagulating, producing vascular or nervous changes, &c., &c. And again electrolysis can also be used for extracting from the body such ions as are injurious, as uric and oxalic acid from a patient suffering from gout.
In the technical process of medical electrolysis, minute precautions are essential. The drug solution should be made with the purest water possible, ideally freshly distilled. The spongy material forming the electrode must be completely free from any traces of electrolytic substances. Therefore, all materials used must be washed in distilled water. Absorbent cotton meets all these needs and is readily available. The area of application can be precisely defined by cutting a hole in a piece of adhesive plaster that is applied to the skin, onto which the electrolytic electrodes are pressed. The significant advantage of electrolytic methods is that they allow for general treatment to be replaced with strictly local treatment, enabling the cells to be saturated to the exact degree and depth required. Strong antiseptics and materials that coagulate albumin cannot be introduced locally using ordinary methods since the skin is impermeable to them, but with electrolysis, they can be delivered to the precise depth needed. The local effects of the ions depend on the dosage; a low dose of zinc ions promotes hair growth, while a higher dose can cause tissue death. Naturally, different ions produce different effects. For instance, alkali and magnesium ions are caustic, while alkaline earth metal ions can cause actual tissue damage, and so on. Depending on the selected ion, the effect can vary from caustic to antiseptic, coagulating, or causing vascular or nervous changes, etc. Additionally, electrolysis can also be used to extract harmful ions from the body, such as uric and oxalic acids in patients with gout.
One of the latest advances is the treatment of ankylosed joints by the electrolytic method, the electrolyte used being chloride of sodium, and the marvellous results being attributed to the introduction of the chlorine ions. This sclerolytic property of the current is applicable to all parts of the body accessible to the current. Old cases of rheumatic scleritis, entirely unaffected by the routine treatment of salicylates and iodide, have often cleared up entirely under electrolytic treatment. Cases of chronic iritis with adhesions and old pleural adhesions are also suited for this method of procedure. Certain menstrual troubles of women and also endometritis yield rapidly to electrolysis with a zinc anode. Before this method of introduction, the zinc salts, though excellent disinfectants, acted only on the surface in consequence of their coagulating action on the albuminoids, but by the electric current, under the influence of a difference of potential, the zinc iron will penetrate to any desired depth. Cases of rodent ulcer unaffected by all other methods of treatment have been cured by electric kataphoresis with zinc ions, and the method is now being applied to the treatment of inoperable malignant tumours. As very strong currents are required for this latter, the patient has first to be anaesthetized by a general anaesthetic. Another direction in which electric ions are being used is that of the induction of local anaesthesia before minor surgical operations. Cocaine is the drug used, the resulting anaesthesia is absolute, and the operation can be made almost bloodless by the admixture of suprarenal extract.
One of the latest advances is the treatment of stiff joints using the electrolytic method, with sodium chloride as the electrolyte. The amazing results are attributed to the introduction of chlorine ions. This sclerolytic property of the current applies to all body parts accessible to it. Long-standing cases of rheumatic scleritis, which did not respond to the usual treatments with salicylates and iodides, have often completely cleared up under electrolytic treatment. Chronic iritis with adhesions and old pleural adhesions are also suitable for this approach. Certain menstrual issues in women and endometritis respond quickly to electrolysis with a zinc anode. Before this introduction method, zinc salts, while excellent disinfectants, only worked on the surface due to their coagulating effect on proteins. However, with the electric current and a difference in potential, the zinc can penetrate to any desired depth. Cases of rodent ulcer that did not respond to any other treatments have been cured by electric kataphoresis with zinc ions, and this method is now being used to treat inoperable malignant tumors. Since very strong currents are needed for this treatment, patients must first be anesthetized with a general anesthetic. Another area where electric ions are being used is for inducing local anesthesia prior to minor surgeries. Cocaine is the drug used, resulting in absolute anesthesia, and the operation can be nearly bloodless due to the addition of adrenal extract.
ELECTROTYPING, an application of the art of electroplating (q.v.) to typography (q.v.). In copying engraved plates for printing purposes, copper may be deposited upon the original plate, the surface of which is first rendered slightly dirty, by means of a weak solution of wax in turpentine or otherwise, to prevent adhesion. The reversed plate thus produced is then stripped from the first and used as cathode in its turn, with the result that even the finest lines of the original are faithfully reproduced. The electrolyte commonly contains about 1½ ℔ of copper sulphate and ½ ℔ of strong sulphuric acid per gallon, and is worked with a current density of about 10 amperes per sq. ft., which should give a thickness of 0.000563 in. of copper per hour. As time is an object, the conditions alluded to in the article on Copper as being favourable to the use of high current densities should be studied, bearing in mind that a tough copper deposit of high quality is essential. Moulds for reproducing plates or art-work are often taken in plaster, beeswax mixed with Venice turpentine, fusible metal, or gutta-percha, and the surface being rendered conductive by powdered black-lead, copper is deposited upon it evenly throughout. For statuary, and “undercut” work generally, an elastic mould—of glue and treacle (80 : 20 parts)—may be used; the mould, when set, is waterproofed by immersion in a solution of potassium bichromate followed by exposure to sunlight, or in some other way. The best results, however, are obtained by taking a wax cast from the elastic mould, and then from this a plaster mould, which may be waterproofed with wax, black-leaded, and used as cathode. In art-work of this nature the principal points to be looked to in depositing are the electrical connexions to the cathode, the shape of the anode (to secure uniformity of deposition), the circulation of the electrolyte, and, in some cases, the means for escape of anode oxygen. Silver electrotyping is occasionally resorted to for special purposes.
ELECTROTYPING, a technique that applies electroplating (q.v.) to typography (q.v.). When copying engraved plates for printing, copper can be layered onto the original plate, which is first lightly dirtied with a weak solution of wax in turpentine or another method to prevent sticking. The resulting reversed plate is then removed from the original and used as a cathode, ensuring that even the smallest details of the original are accurately reproduced. The electrolyte typically consists of about 1½ lbs of copper sulfate and ½ lb of strong sulfuric acid per gallon, operating at a current density of around 10 amperes per square foot, which should produce a copper thickness of 0.000563 inches per hour. Since time is a factor, the conditions mentioned in the article on Copper that are favorable for high current densities should be examined, keeping in mind the necessity for a tough, high-quality copper deposit. Molds for reproducing plates or artwork are often made from plaster, beeswax mixed with Venice turpentine, fusible metal, or gutta-percha, with the surface made conductive using powdered black lead, allowing for even copper deposition. For statues and generally "undercut" work, an elastic mold made of glue and treacle (80:20 parts) can be used; once set, the mold is waterproofed by soaking in a potassium bichromate solution and then exposed to sunlight or treated in another way. The best results come from creating a wax cast from the elastic mold, then making a plaster mold from that, which can be waterproofed with wax, treated with black lead, and used as a cathode. In this type of artwork, the key elements to consider during deposition are the electrical connections to the cathode, the shape of the anode (to ensure uniform deposition), the circulation of the electrolyte, and, in some cases, methods for the escape of anode oxygen. Silver electrotyping is sometimes used for specific purposes.
ELECTRUM, ELECTRON (Gr. ἤλεκτρον, amber), an alloy of gold and silver in use among the ancients, described by Pliny as containing one part of silver to four of gold. The term is also applied in mineralogy to native argentiferous gold containing from 20 to 50% of silver. In both cases the name is derived from the pale yellow colour of electrum, resembling that of amber.
ELECTRUM, ELECTRON (Gr. electron, amber), is an alloy made of gold and silver that was used by ancient civilizations. Pliny described it as having one part silver for every four parts gold. The term is also used in geology to refer to naturally occurring gold that contains between 20% to 50% silver. In both cases, the name comes from the pale yellow color of electrum, which is similar to that of amber.
ELEGIT (Lat. for “he has chosen”), in English law, a judicial writ of execution, given by the Statute of Westminster II. (1285), and so called from the words of the writ, that the plaintiff has chosen (elegit) this mode of satisfaction. Previously to the Statute of Westminster II., a judgment creditor could only have the profits of lands of a debtor in satisfaction of his judgment, but not the possession of the lands themselves. But this statute provided that henceforth it should be in the election of the party having recovered judgment to have a writ of fieri facias (q.v.) unto the sheriff on lands and goods or else all the chattels of the debtor and the one half of his lands until the judgment be satisfied. Since the Bankruptcy Act 1883 the writ of elegit has extended to lands and hereditaments only. (See further Execution.)
ELEGIT (Latin for “he has chosen”), in English law, refers to a judicial writ of execution established by the Statute of Westminster II (1285). It’s named after the wording of the writ, indicating that the plaintiff has selected (elegit) this method of satisfaction. Before the Statute of Westminster II, a judgment creditor could only receive the profits from a debtor’s lands as payment for the judgment, but not take possession of the lands themselves. However, this statute allowed the winning party to choose to have a writ of fieri facias (q.v.) issued to the sheriff, covering either lands and goods or all the debtor’s chattels and half of their lands until the judgment was paid off. Since the Bankruptcy Act of 1883, the writ of elegit now applies only to lands and hereditaments. (See further Execution.)
ELEGY, a short poem of lamentation or regret, called forth by the decease of a beloved or revered person, or by a general sense of the pathos of mortality. The Greek word ἐλεγεία is of doubtful signification; it is usually interpreted as meaning a mournful or funeral song. But there seems to be no proof that this idea of regret for death entered into the original meaning of ἐλεγεία. The earliest Greek elegies which have come down to us are not funereal, although it is possible that the primitive ἐλεγεία may have been a set of words liturgically used, with music, at a burial. When the elegy appears in surviving Greek literature, we find it dedicated, not to death, but to war and love. Callinus of Ephesus, who flourished in the 7th century, is the earliest elegist of whom we possess fragments. A little later Tyrtaeus was composing his famous elegies in Sparta. Both of these writers were, so far as we know, exclusively warlike and patriotic. On the other hand, the passion of love inspires Mimnermus, whose elegies are the prototypes not only of the later Greek pieces, and of the Latin poems of the school of Tibullus and Propertius, but of a great deal of the formal erotic poetry of modern Europe. In the 6th century B.C., the elegies of Solon were admired; they are mainly lost. But we possess more of the work of Theognis of Megara than of any other archaic elegist, and in it we can observe the characteristics of Greek elegy best. Here the Dorian spirit of chivalry reaches its highest expression, and war is combined with manly love.
ELEGY is a short poem that expresses sorrow or regret, usually due to the death of a loved one or a general feeling of the sadness of mortality. The Greek word elegy has an uncertain meaning; it's often understood as a mournful or funeral song. However, there isn't any evidence that the idea of mourning for death was part of the original meaning of elegy. The oldest Greek elegies we have aren't funerary, although it's possible that the original elegy were words used in a ceremonial way, possibly with music, at funerals. When elegy shows up in the Greek literature that survives, it's more often about war and love rather than death. Callinus of Ephesus, who lived in the 7th century, is the earliest elegist from whom we have fragments. Shortly afterward, Tyrtaeus was writing his well-known elegies in Sparta. Both of these writers, as far as we know, focused mostly on war and patriotism. In contrast, Mimnermus is inspired by love, and his elegies serve as the models not just for later Greek works and for the Latin poems of Tibullus and Propertius, but also for much of the formal erotic poetry in modern Europe. In the 6th century BCE, the elegies of Solon were well-regarded, though mostly lost to us. However, we have more of Theognis of Megara's work than any other early elegist, which gives us the best insight into the features of Greek elegy. Here, the Dorian spirit of valor reaches its peak, blending themes of war with strong romantic love.
The elegy, in its calm movement, seems to have begun to lose currency when the ecstasy of emotion was more successfully interpreted by the various rhythmic and dithyrambic inventions of the Aeolic lyrists. The elegy, however, rose again to the highest level of merit in Alexandrian times. It was reintroduced by Philetas in the 3rd cent. B.C., and was carried to extreme perfection by Callimachus. Other later Greek elegists of high reputation were Asclepiades and Euphorion. But it is curious to notice that all the elegies of these poets were of an amatory nature, and that antiquity styled the funeral dirges of Theocritus, Bion and Moschus—which are to us the types of elegy—not elegies at all, but idylls. When the poets of Rome began their imitative study of Alexandrian models, it was natural that the elegies of writers such as Callimachus should tempt them to immediate imitation. Gallus, whose works are unhappily lost, is known to have produced a great sensation in Rome by publishing his translation of the poems of Euphorion; and he passed on to the composition of erotic elegies of his own, which were the earliest in the Latin language. If we possessed his once-famous Cytheris, we should be able to decide the question of how much Propertius, who is now the leading figure among Roman elegists, owed to the example of Gallus. His brilliantly emotional Cynthia, with its rich and unexampled employment of that alternation of hexameter and pentameter which had now come to be known as the elegiac measure, seems, however, to have settled the type of Latin elegy. Tibullus is always named in conjunction with Propertius, who was his contemporary, although in their style they were violently contrasted. The sweetness of Tibullus was the object of admiration and constant imitation by the Latin poets of the Renaissance, although Propertius has more austerely pleased a later taste. Finally, Ovid wrote elegies of great variety in subject, but all in the same form, and his dexterous easy metre closed the tradition of elegiac poetry among the ancients. What remains in the decline of Latin literature is all founded on a study of those masters of the Golden Age.
The elegy, in its gentle flow, seems to have started losing popularity as the intense emotions were better expressed through the various rhythms and energetic styles of the Aeolic poets. However, it made a comeback and reached a high level of quality in Alexandrian times. It was reintroduced by Philetas in the 3rd century B.C., and was perfected by Callimachus. Other well-known later Greek elegists included Asclepiades and Euphorion. Interestingly, all the elegies written by these poets were about love, and in antiquity, the funeral dirges of Theocritus, Bion, and Moschus—which we now consider typical elegies—were not called elegies at all, but rather idylls. When Roman poets began to imitate Alexandrian works, it was natural for them to be influenced by the elegies of writers like Callimachus. Gallus, whose works we sadly don’t have anymore, created quite a stir in Rome when he published his translation of Euphorion's poems, and he went on to write his own erotic elegies, which were the earliest in Latin. If we had his once-famous Cytheris, we could determine how much Propertius, who is now regarded as the leading figure among Roman elegists, was influenced by Gallus. Propertius’s emotionally rich Cynthia, with its innovative use of alternating hexameter and pentameter, which had now become known as elegiac meter, seemingly established the standard for Latin elegy. Tibullus is often mentioned alongside Propertius, who was his contemporary, even though their styles contrasted sharply. Tibullus's sweetness was admired and consistently imitated by Latin poets of the Renaissance, while Propertius appeals more to a later, more serious taste. Lastly, Ovid wrote elegies with a wide range of subjects, all in the same format, and his skillful, flowing meter marked the end of the tradition of elegiac poetry among the ancients. What remains in the decline of Latin literature is all based on a study of those masters from the Golden Age.
When the Renaissance found its way to England, the word “elegy” was introduced by readers of Ovid and Propertius. But from the beginning of the 16th century, it was used in English, as it has been ever since, to describe a funeral song or lament. One of the earliest poems in English which bears the title of elegy is The Complaint of Philomene, which George Gascoigne began in 1562, and printed in 1576. The Daphnaida of Spenser (1591) is an elegy in the strict modern sense, namely a poem of regret pronounced at the obsequies of a particular person. In 1579 Puttenham had defined an elegy as being a song “of long lamentation.” With the opening of the 17th century the composition of elegies became universal on every occasion of public or private grief. Dr Johnson’s definition, “Elegy, a short poem without points or turns,” is singularly inept and careless. By that time (1755) English literature had produced many great elegies, of which the Lycidas of Milton is by far the most illustrious. But even Cowley’s on Crashaw, Tickell’s on Addison, Pope’s on an Unfortunate Lady, those of Quarles, and Dryden, and Donne, should have warned Johnson of his mistake. Since the 18th century the most illustrious examples of elegy in English literature have been the Adonais of Shelley (on Keats), the Thyrsis of Matthew Arnold (on Clough), and the Ave atque Vale of Mr Swinburne (on Baudelaire). It remains for us to mention what is the most celebrated elegy in English, that written by Gray in a Country Churchyard. This, however, belongs to a class apart, as it is not addressed to the memory of any particular person. A writer of small merit, James Hammond (1716-1742), enjoyed a certain success with his Love Elegies in which he endeavoured to introduce the erotic elegy as it was written by Ovid and Tibullus. This experiment took no 253 hold of English literature, but was welcomed in France in the amatory works of Parny (1753-1814), in those of Chênedollé (1769-1833), and of Millevoye (1782-1816). The melancholy and sentimental elegies of the last named are the typical examples of this class of poetry in French literature. Lamartine must be included among the elegists, and his famous “Le Lac” is as eminent an elegy in French as Gray’s “Country Churchyard” is in English. The elegy has flourished in Portugal, partly because it was cultivated with great success by Camoens, the most illustrious of the Portuguese poets. In Italian, Chiabrera and Filicaia are named among the leading national elegists. In German literature, the notion of elegy as a poem of lamentation does not exist. The famous Roman Elegies of Goethe imitate in form and theme those of Ovid; they are not even plaintive in character.
When the Renaissance arrived in England, the term "elegy" was brought in by readers of Ovid and Propertius. However, starting from the early 16th century, it began to be used in English to refer to a funeral song or lament, a meaning that has persisted since. One of the earliest poems in English titled an elegy is The Complaint of Philomene, which George Gascoigne started in 1562 and published in 1576. Spenser's Daphnaida (1591) is an elegy in the modern sense, specifically a poem expressing regret during the funeral of a specific individual. In 1579, Puttenham defined an elegy as a song “of long lamentation.” By the beginning of the 17th century, writing elegies became common during any public or private sorrow. Dr. Johnson's definition, “Elegy, a short poem without points or turns,” is particularly inaccurate and careless. By that time (1755), English literature had produced many notable elegies, among which Milton's Lycidas stands out as the most distinguished. Yet even Cowley’s elegy on Crashaw, Tickell’s on Addison, Pope’s on an Unfortunate Lady, those by Quarles, Dryden, and Donne, should have made Johnson reconsider his mistake. Since the 18th century, the most prominent examples of elegy in English literature have been Shelley’s Adonais (on Keats), Arnold’s Thyrsis (on Clough), and Mr. Swinburne’s Ave atque Vale (on Baudelaire). We must also mention the most famous elegy in English, Gray's work written in a Country Churchyard. This, however, is distinct as it doesn’t commemorate any particular individual. A lesser-known writer, James Hammond (1716-1742), found some success with his Love Elegies, where he tried to introduce the erotic elegy similar to that of Ovid and Tibullus. This attempt didn't gain traction in English literature but was well-received in France in the romantic works of Parny (1753-1814), Chênedollé (1769-1833), and Millevoye (1782-1816). The melancholic and sentimental elegies by the latter are classic examples of this type of poetry in French literature. Lamartine must also be recognized among the elegists, and his famous “Le Lac” is as significant an elegy in French as Gray’s “Country Churchyard” is in English. The elegy has thrived in Portugal, partly due to its successful cultivation by Camoens, the most celebrated of the Portuguese poets. In Italian, Chiabrera and Filicaia are recognized as leading national elegists. In German literature, the idea of elegy as a poem of lament does not exist. Goethe’s famous Roman Elegies mimic the form and themes of those by Ovid; they are not even sorrowful in nature.
Elegiac Verse has commonly been adopted by German poets for their elegies, but by English poets never. Schiller defines this kind of verse, which consists of a distich of which the first line is a hexameter and the second a pentameter, in the following pretty illustration:—
Elegy has often been used by German poets for their elegies, but English poets have never adopted it. Schiller defines this type of verse, which consists of a couplet where the first line is a hexameter and the second is a pentameter, with the following nice illustration:—
“In the hexameter rises the fountain’s silvery column. “In the hexameter, the fountain’s silver column rises.” In the pentameter aye falling in melody back.” In the pentameter, yes, falling back in melody. |
The word “elegy,” in English, is one which is frequently used very incorrectly; it should be remembered that it must be mournful, meditative and short without being ejaculatory. Thus Tennyson’s In Memoriam is excluded by its length; it may at best be treated as a collection of elegies. Wordsworth’s Lucy, on the other hand, is a dirge; this is too brief a burst of emotion to be styled an elegy. Lycidas and Adonais remain the two unapproachable types of what a personal elegy ought to be in English.
The term “elegy” in English is often misused. It's important to remember that it should be mournful, reflective, and brief without being overly emotional. Therefore, Tennyson’s In Memoriam doesn’t qualify because it's too long; it can only be considered a collection of elegies. Wordsworth’s Lucy, on the other hand, is a dirge; it's too short and emotional to be called an elegy. Lycidas and Adonais remain the two ideal examples of what a personal elegy should be in English.
ELEMENT (Lat. elementum), an ultimate component of anything, hence a fundamental principle. Elementum was used in Latin to translate the Greek στοιχεῖον (that which stands in a στοῖχος, or row), and is a word of obscure origin and etymology. The root of Lat. alere, to nourish, has been suggested, thus making it a doublet of alimentum, that which supports life; another explanation is that the word represents LMN., the first three letters of the second part of the alphabet, a parallel use to that of ABC. Apart from its application in chemistry, which is treated below, the word is used of the rudiments or principia of any science or subject, as in Euclid’s Elements of Geometry, or in the “beggarly elements” (τὰπτωχὰ στοιχεῖα, of St Paul in Gal. iv. 9); in mathematics, of a fundamental concept involved in an investigation, as the “elements” of a determinant; and in electricity, of a galvanic (or voltaic) “element” in an electric cell (see Battery: Electric). In astronomy, “element” is used of any one of the numerical or geometrical data by which the course of a varying phenomenon is computed; it is applied especially to orbital motion and eclipses. The “elements of an orbit” are the six data by which the position of a moving body in its orbit at any time may be determined. The “elements of an eclipse” express and determine the motion of the centre of the shadow-axis, and are the data necessary to compute the phenomena of an eclipse during its whole course, as seen at any place. In architecture the term “element” is applied to the outline of the design of a Decorated window, on which the centres for the tracery are found. These centres will all be found to fall on points which, in some way or other, will be equimultiples of parts of the openings.
ELEMENT (Lat. elementum), a basic component of anything, making it a fundamental principle. Elementum was used in Latin to translate the Greek στοιχεῖον (that which stands in a line, or row), and its origin and etymology are unclear. The root of Lat. alere, meaning to nourish, has been suggested, indicating a connection to alimentum, what supports life; another explanation is that the word stands for LMN., the first three letters of the second part of the alphabet, similar to ABC. Besides its use in chemistry, which is discussed below, the term refers to the basics or principia of any science or topic, like in Euclid’s Elements of Geometry, or in the “beggarly elements” (the basic elements, from St Paul in Gal. iv. 9); in mathematics, it refers to a fundamental concept involved in an investigation, such as the “elements” of a determinant; and in electricity, it refers to a galvanic (or voltaic) “element” in an electric cell (see Battery: Electric). In astronomy, “element” refers to any numerical or geometrical data used to calculate the path of a changing phenomenon; it's particularly applied to orbital motion and eclipses. The “elements of an orbit” are the six data points that allow us to determine the position of a moving body in its orbit at any given time. The “elements of an eclipse” describe and determine the motion of the center of the shadow-axis and represent the data needed to compute the phenomena of an eclipse throughout its entire course, as viewed from any location. In architecture, the term “element” is used to describe the outline of the design of a Decorated window, where the centers for the tracery can be found. These centers will all be located at points that, in some way, are equimultiples of parts of the openings.
Chemical Elements.
Chemical Elements
Like all other scientific concepts, that of an element has changed its meaning many times in many ways during the development of science. Owing to their very small amount of real chemical knowledge, the generalizations Ancient ideas. of the ancients were necessarily rather superficial, and could not stand in the face of the increasing development of practical chemistry. Nevertheless we find the concept of an element as “a substance from which all bodies are made or derived” held at the very beginning of occidental philosophy. Thales regarded “water” as the element of all things; his followers accepted his idea of a primordial substance as the basis of all bodies, but they endeavoured to determine some other general element or elements, like “fire” or “spirit,” or “love” and “hatred,” or “fire,” “water,” “air” and “earth.” We find in this development an exact parallelism to the manner in which scientific ideas generally arise, develop and change. They are created to point out the common part in a variety of observed phenomena, in order to get some leading light in the chaos of events. At first almost any idea will do, if only it promises some comprehensive arrangement of the facts; afterwards, the inconsistencies of the first trial make themselves felt; the first idea is then changed to meet better the new requirements. For a shorter or longer time the facts and ideas may remain in accord, but the uninterrupted increase of empirical knowledge involves sooner or later new fundamental alterations of the general idea, and in this way there is a never-ceasing process of adaptation of the ideas to the facts. As facts are unchangeable by themselves, the adaptation can be only one-sided; the ideas are compelled to change according to the facts. We must therefore educate ourselves to regard the ideas or theories as the changing part of science, and keep ourselves ready to accept even the most fundamental revision of current theories.
Like all scientific concepts, the idea of an element has evolved in meaning many times and in many ways throughout the history of science. Due to their limited understanding of chemistry, the ancient generalizations were necessarily quite superficial and couldn't withstand the advancements in practical chemistry. However, we see the concept of an element as “a substance from which all bodies are made or derived” emerging at the very beginning of Western philosophy. Thales considered “water” to be the essential element of all things; his followers accepted his notion of a fundamental substance as the basis of all matter, but they sought to identify other possible elements, such as “fire” or “spirit,” or concepts like “love” and “hatred,” or the four classical elements: “fire,” “water,” “air,” and “earth.” This evolution mirrors how scientific ideas generally come into being, develop, and change. They arise to highlight the commonalities among a variety of observed phenomena in order to provide some clarity amidst the chaos of events. Initially, almost any idea will suffice if it offers some way to organize the facts; however, inconsistencies in the initial concept soon become apparent, leading to revisions that better fit the new understanding. For a time, facts and ideas may align, but the continuous growth of empirical knowledge eventually necessitates significant changes to the overarching concept, resulting in an ongoing adaptation of ideas to fit the facts. Since facts themselves can't change, this adaptation is inherently one-sided; the ideas must evolve according to the facts. Therefore, we must train ourselves to view ideas or theories as the fluid aspect of science, always remaining open to even the most fundamental revisions of current theories.
The first step in the development of the idea of elements was to recognize that a single principle would not prove sufficient to cover the manifoldness of facts. Empedocles therefore conceived a double or binary elementary principle; and Aristotle developed this idea a stage further, stating two sets of binary antagonistic principles, namely “dry-wet” and “hot-cold.” The Aristotelian or peripatetic elements, which played such a great rôle in the whole medieval philosophy, are the representatives of the several binary combinations of these fundamental properties, “fire” being hot and dry, “air” hot and wet, “water” cold and wet, “earth” cold and dry. According to the amount of these properties found in any body, these elements were regarded as having taken part in forming this body. Concerning the reason why only these properties were regarded as fundamental, we know nothing. They seem to be taken at random rather than carefully selected; they relate only to the sense of touch, and not to vision or any other sense, possibly because deceptions in the sense of touch were regarded as non-existent, while the other senses were apparently not so trustworthy. At any rate, the Aristotelian elements soon proved to be rather inadequate to meet the requirements of the increasing chemical knowledge; other properties had therefore to be selected to represent the general behaviour of chemical substances, and in this case we find them already much more “chemical” in the modern sense.
The first step in developing the idea of elements was to realize that a single principle wouldn't be enough to account for the variety of facts. Empedocles therefore came up with a dual or binary elementary principle, and Aristotle expanded on this idea, proposing two sets of opposing binary principles: “dry-wet” and “hot-cold.” The Aristotelian or peripatetic elements, which played a significant role in medieval philosophy, represent various binary combinations of these fundamental properties. “Fire” is hot and dry, “air” is hot and wet, “water” is cold and wet, and “earth” is cold and dry. According to the presence of these properties in any substance, these elements were thought to contribute to the formation of that substance. As for why only these properties were considered fundamental, we don't really know. They seem to have been chosen randomly instead of being carefully selected; they only relate to the sense of touch, not vision or any other sense, probably because touch was believed to be reliable, while other senses were seen as less trustworthy. In any case, the Aristotelian elements quickly proved insufficient to keep up with the growing body of chemical knowledge; other properties had to be identified to better represent the general behavior of chemical substances, and these properties are much more “chemical” in the modern sense.
Among the various substances recognized by the chemists, certain classes or groups readily distinguished themselves. First the metals, by their lustre, their heaviness, and a number of other common properties. According to Elements of the alchemists. the general principle of selecting a single substance as a representative of the group, the metallic properties were represented by “mercury.” The theoreticians of the middle ages were rather careful to point out that common mercury (the liquid metal of to-day) was not at all to be identified with “philosophical” mercury, the last being simply the principle of metallic behaviour. In the same way combustibility was represented by “sulphur,” solubility by “salt,” and occasionally the chemically indifferent or refractory character by “earth.” According to the subsistence and preponderance of these properties in different bodies, these were regarded as containing the corresponding elements; conversely, just as experience teaches the chemist every day that by proper treatment the properties of given bodies may be changed in the most various ways, the observed changes of properties were ascribed to the gain or loss of the corresponding elements. According to this theory, which accounted rather well for a large number of facts, there was no fundamental objection against trying to endow base metals with the properties of the precious ones; to make artificial gold was a task quite similar to the modern problem of, e.g. making artificial quinine. The realization that there is a certain natural law preventing such changes is of much later date. It is therefore 254 quite unjust to consider the work of the alchemists, who tried to make artificial gold, as consummate nonsense. A priori there was no reason why a change from lead to gold should be less possible than a change from iron to rust; indeed there is no a priori reason against it now. But experience has taught us that lead and gold are chemical elements in the modern sense, and that there is a general experimental law that elements are not transformable one into another. So experience taught the alchemists irresistibly that in spite of the manifoldness of chemical changes it is not always possible to change any given substance into another; the possibilities are much more limited, and there is only a certain range of substances to be obtained from a given one. The impossibility of transforming lead or copper into noble metals proved to be only one case out of many, and it was recognized generally that there are certain chemical families whose members are related to one another by their mutual transformability, while it is impossible to bridge the boundaries separating these families.
Among the different substances identified by chemists, certain classes or groups clearly stood out. First were the metals, noted for their shine, weight, and several other common characteristics. According to Alchemists' elements. the general principle of choosing a single substance to represent the group was that metallic properties were symbolized by “mercury.” Medieval theorists were careful to clarify that ordinary mercury (the liquid metal we know today) should not be equated with “philosophical” mercury, which was simply the principle of metallic behavior. Similarly, combustibility was symbolized by “sulphur,” solubility by “salt,” and sometimes the chemically neutral or resistant quality by “earth.” Based on the presence and dominance of these properties in different substances, they were thought to contain the corresponding elements. Conversely, just as experience teaches chemists every day that the properties of specific substances can change in various ways with the right treatment, changes in properties were attributed to the gain or loss of corresponding elements. This theory, which explained a large number of phenomena fairly well, had no fundamental objections against trying to give base metals the qualities of precious ones; creating artificial gold was seen as a task similar to today's challenge of making artificial quinine. The understanding that a natural law prevents such transformations came much later. Therefore, it is quite unfair to regard the work of alchemists, who aimed to produce artificial gold, as complete nonsense. A priori, there was no reason to believe that changing lead into gold should be any less possible than changing iron into rust; in fact, there is still no a priori reason against it today. However, experience has taught us that lead and gold are chemical elements in the modern sense, and there is a general experimental law stating that elements cannot be transformed into one another. Thus, experience taught alchemists, through necessity, that despite the variety of chemical changes, it is not always feasible to convert one specific substance into another; the possibilities are much more restricted, and there is only a limited range of substances that can be obtained from a given one. The impossibility of transforming lead or copper into noble metals turned out to be just one case among many, and it became widely acknowledged that there are particular chemical families whose members can transform into one another, while it is impossible to cross the boundaries that separate these families.
The man who brought all these experiences and considerations into scientific form was Robert Boyle. He stated as a general principle, that only tangible and ponderable substances should be recognized as elements, an element being Work of Robert Boyle. a substance from which other substances may be made, but which cannot be separated into different substances. He showed that neither the peripatetic nor the alchemistic elements satisfied this definition. But he was more of a critical than of a synthetical turn of mind; although he established the correct principles, he hesitated to point out what substances, among those known at his time, were to be considered as elements. He only paved the way to the goal by laying the foundations of analytical chemistry, i.e. by teaching how to characterize and to distinguish different chemical individuals. Further, by adopting and developing the corpuscular hypothesis of the constitution of the ponderable substances, he foreshadowed, in a way, the law of the conservation of the elements, viz. that no element can be changed into another element; and he considered the compound substances to be made up from small particles or corpuscles of their elements, the latter retaining their essence in all combinations. This hypothesis accounts for the fact that only a limited number of other substances can be made from a given one—namely, only those which contain the elements present in the given substance. But it is characteristic of Boyle’s critical mind that he did not shut his eyes against a serious objection to his hypothesis. If the compound substance is made up of parts of the elements, one would expect that the properties of the compound substance would prove to be the sum of the properties of the elements. But this is not the case, and chemical compounds show properties which generally differ very considerably from those of the compounds. On the one hand, the corpuscular hypothesis of Boyle was developed into the atomic hypothesis of Dalton, which was considered at the beginning of the 19th century as the very best representation of chemical facts, while, on the other hand, the difficulty as to the properties of the compounds remained the same as Boyle found it, and has not yet been removed by an appropriate development of the atomic hypothesis. Thus Boyle considered, e.g. the metals as elements. However, it is interesting to note that he considered the mutual transformation of the metals as not altogether impossible, and he even tells of a case when gold was transformed into base metal. It is a common psychological fact that a reformer does not generally succeed in being wholly consistent in his reforming ideas; there remains invariably some point where he commits exactly the same fault which he set out to abolish. We shall find the same inconsistency also among other chemical reformers. Even earlier than Boyle, Joachim Jung (1587-1657) of Hamburg developed similar ideas. But as he did not distinguish himself, as Boyle did, by experimental work in science, his views exerted only a limited influence amongst his pupils.
The person who turned all these experiences and ideas into scientific form was Robert Boyle. He proposed a general principle that only tangible and measurable substances should be recognized as elements, defining an element as a substance from which other substances can be made but cannot be separated into different substances. He demonstrated that neither the Aristotelian nor the alchemical elements met this definition. However, he was more critical than synthetic in his thinking; even though he established the right principles, he hesitated to identify which substances known at the time should be considered elements. He only laid the groundwork for the goal by establishing the foundations of analytical chemistry, by teaching how to identify and differentiate various chemical substances. Additionally, by adopting and developing the corpuscular hypothesis of the structure of measurable substances, he predicted, in a way, the law of conservation of elements, which states that no element can be transformed into another element; he believed that compound substances are made up of small particles or corpuscles of their elements, which retain their essence in all combinations. This hypothesis explains that only a limited number of other substances can be made from a given one—specifically, only those that contain the elements present in the original substance. But it is typical of Boyle’s critical thinking that he remained aware of a serious objection to his hypothesis. If a compound substance is made of parts of the elements, one would expect that the properties of the compound would be the total of the properties of the elements. However, this is not the case, and chemical compounds often have properties that are significantly different from those of their components. On one hand, Boyle's corpuscular hypothesis evolved into Dalton's atomic hypothesis, which was regarded at the beginning of the 19th century as the best representation of chemical facts, while, on the other hand, the issue regarding the properties of compounds remained as Boyle found it, and has yet to be resolved by any further development of the atomic hypothesis. Thus, Boyle viewed metals as elements. However, it's interesting to note that he considered the mutual transformation of metals to be somewhat possible, and he even recounts an instance when gold was transformed into base metal. It's a common psychological truth that a reformer often fails to maintain complete consistency in their reform ideas; there always seems to be a point where they make the very same mistake they aimed to eliminate. We can observe the same inconsistency among other chemical reformers. Even before Boyle, Joachim Jung (1587-1657) from Hamburg developed similar ideas. However, since he did not distinguish himself through experimental science like Boyle did, his views had only a limited impact among his students.
In the times following Boyle’s work we find no remarkable outside development of the theory of elements, but a very important inside one. Analytical chemistry, or the art of distinguishing different chemical substances, was rapidly developing, Phlogiston theory. and the necessary foundation for such a theory was thus laid. We find the discussions about the true elements disappearing from the text-books, or removed to an insignificant corner, while the description of observed chemical changes of different ways of preparing the same substance, as identified by the same properties, and of the methods for recognizing and distinguishing the various substances, take their place. The similarity of certain groups of chemical changes, as, for example, combustion, and the inverse process, reduction, was observed, and thus led to an attempt to shape these most general facts into a common theory. In this way the theory of “phlogiston” was developed by G.E. Stahl, phlogiston being (according to the usual way of regarding general properties as being due to a principle or element) the “principle of combustibility,” similar to the “sulphur” of the alchemists. This again must be regarded as quite a legitimate step justified by the knowledge of the time. For experience taught that combustibility could be transferred by chemical action, e.g. from charcoal to litharge, the latter being changed thereby into combustible metallic lead; and according to Boyle’s principle, that only bodies should be recognized as chemical elements, phlogiston was considered as a body. From the fact that all leading chemists in the second half of the 18th century used the phlogiston theory and were not hindered by it in making their great discoveries, it is evident that a sufficient amount of truth and usefulness was embodied in this theory. It states indeed quite correctly the mutual relations between oxidation and reduction, as we now call these very general processes, and was erroneous only in regard to one question, which at that time had not aroused much interest, the question of the change of weight during chemical processes.
In the period after Boyle's work, there wasn't any significant external development of the theory of elements, but there was a crucial internal one. Analytical chemistry, or the ability to differentiate between various chemical substances, was rapidly advancing, and this laid the necessary groundwork for such a theory. Discussions about the true elements began to vanish from textbooks or were relegated to an unimportant corner, while descriptions of observed chemical changes, different methods of preparing the same substance identified by the same properties, and the techniques for recognizing and distinguishing various substances took their place. The similarities among certain groups of chemical changes, like combustion and its reverse process, reduction, were noted, leading to an effort to shape these broad facts into a unified theory. This process led to the development of the phlogiston theory by G.E. Stahl, who described phlogiston as the "principle of combustibility," similar to the "sulfur" of the alchemists. This was a completely legitimate step given the knowledge of the time. Experience showed that combustibility could be transferred through chemical reactions, such as from charcoal to litharge, which changed into combustible metallic lead. According to Boyle's principle, which stated that only "bodies" should be recognized as chemical elements, phlogiston was regarded as a body. The fact that all leading chemists in the late 18th century utilized the phlogiston theory and that it didn't hinder their significant discoveries indicates that this theory contained a valid amount of truth and usefulness. It correctly described the relationships between oxidation and reduction, as we now refer to these processes, except for one issue that did not capture much attention at the time: the question of changes in weight during chemical processes.
It was only after Isaac Newton’s discovery of universal gravitation that weight was considered as a property of paramount interest and importance, and that the question of the changes of weight in chemical reactions became Lavoisier’s reform. one worth asking. When in due time this question was raised, the fact became evident at once, that combustion means not loss but gain of weight. To be sure of this, it was necessary to know first the chemical and physical properties of gases, and it was just at the same time that this knowledge was developed by Priestley, Scheele and others. Lavoisier was the originator and expounder of the necessary reform. Oxygen was just discovered at that time, and Lavoisier gathered evidence from all sides that the theory of phlogiston had to be turned inside out to fit the new facts.
It was only after Isaac Newton discovered universal gravitation that weight was seen as a crucial property, and the question of how weight changes in chemical reactions became significant. When this question was eventually posed, it quickly became clear that combustion actually leads to a gain in weight, not a loss. To confirm this, it was essential to first understand the chemical and physical properties of gases, and this knowledge was being developed around the same time by Priestley, Scheele, and others. Lavoisier was the pioneer and advocate of this important reform. Oxygen had just been discovered, and Lavoisier collected evidence from all angles that the phlogiston theory needed to be completely revised to align with the new facts.
He realized that the sum total of the weights of all substances concerned within a chemical change is not altered by the change. This principle of the “conservation of weight” led at once to a simple and unmistakable definition of a chemical element. As the weight of a compound substance is the sum of the weights of its elements, the compound necessarily weighs more than any of its elements. An element is therefore a substance which, by being changed into another substance, invariably increases its weight, and never gives rise to substances of less weight. By the help of this criterion Lavoisier composed the first table of chemical elements similar to our modern ones. According to the knowledge of his time he regarded the alkalis as elements, although he remarked that they are rather similar to certain oxides, and therefore may possibly contain oxygen; the truth of this was proved at a later date by Humphry Davy. But the inconsistency of the reformer, already referred to, may be observed with Lavoisier. He included “heat and light” in his list of elements, although he knew that neither of them had weight, and that neither fitted his definition of an element; this atavistic survival was subsequently removed from the table of the elements by Berzelius in the beginning of the 19th century. In this way the question of what substances are to be regarded as chemical elements had been settled satisfactorily in a qualitative way, but it is interesting to realize that the last step in this development, the theory of Lavoisier, was based on quantitative considerations. Such considerations became of paramount 255 interest at once, and led to the concept of the combining weights of the elements.
He realized that the total weight of all substances involved in a chemical change doesn’t change during that change. This principle of “conservation of weight” immediately led to a clear and straightforward definition of a chemical element. Since the weight of a compound substance is the sum of the weights of its elements, the compound must weigh more than any of its individual elements. An element is therefore a substance that, when transformed into another substance, always increases its weight and never results in a substance that weighs less. Using this criterion, Lavoisier created the first table of chemical elements similar to our modern tables. Based on the knowledge of his time, he considered alkalis to be elements, even though he noted that they are quite similar to certain oxides and might contain oxygen; this was later confirmed by Humphry Davy. However, Lavoisier also showed inconsistency, as he included “heat and light” in his list of elements despite knowing that neither has weight and that neither fits his definition of an element; this outdated inclusion was later removed from the elements table by Berzelius in the early 19th century. This way, the question of which substances should be considered chemical elements was satisfactorily answered in a qualitative manner, but it’s interesting to note that the final step in this development, Lavoisier's theory, was based on quantitative considerations. Such considerations quickly became critically important and led to the concept of the combining weights of the elements.
The first discoveries in this field were made in the last quarter of the 18th century by J.B. Richter. The point at issue was a rather commonplace one: it was the fact that when two neutral salt solutions were mixed to undergo mutual J.B. Richter’s work. chemical decomposition and recombination, the resulting liquid was neutral again, i.e. it did not contain any excess of acid or base. In other words, if two salts, A’B’ and A” B”, composed of the acids A’ and A” and the bases B’ and B”, undergo mutual decomposition, the amount of the base B’ left by the first salt, when its acid A’ united with the base B” to form a new salt A’B”, was just enough to make a neutral salt A”B’ with the acid A” left by the second salt. At first sight this looks quite simple and self-evident,—that neutral salts should form neutral ones again and not acid or basic ones,—but if this fact is once stated very serious quantitative inferences may be drawn from it, as Richter showed. For if the symbols A’, A”, B’, B” denote at the same time such quantities of the acids and bases as form neutral salts, then if three of these quantities are determined, the fourth may be calculated from the others. This follows from the fact that by decomposing A’B’ with just the proper amount of the other salt to form A’B”, the remaining quantities B’ and A” exist in exactly the ratio to form a neutral salt A” B’. It is possible, therefore, to ascribe to each acid and base a certain relative weight or “combining weight” by which they will combine one with the other to form neutral salts. The same reasoning may be extended to any number of acids and bases.
The first discoveries in this field were made in the last quarter of the 18th century by J.B. Richter. The issue at hand was quite straightforward: when two neutral salt solutions were mixed for chemical decomposition and recombination, the resulting liquid was neutral again, i.e. it didn’t contain any excess acid or base. In simpler terms, if two salts, A’B’ and A”B”, made from the acids A’ and A” and the bases B’ and B”, went through mutual decomposition, the amount of base B’ left by the first salt, when its acid A’ combined with base B” to form a new salt A’B”, was just enough to make a neutral salt A”B’ with the acid A” left by the second salt. At first glance, this seems simple and obvious—that neutral salts should form neutral ones again and not acidic or basic ones—but once this fact is stated, serious quantitative inferences can be drawn from it, as Richter demonstrated. If the symbols A’, A”, B’, B” represent such quantities of acids and bases that form neutral salts, then if three of these quantities are known, the fourth can be calculated. This conclusion arises from the fact that by decomposing A’B’ with just the right amount of the other salt to form A’B”, the remaining quantities B’ and A” are in exactly the ratio needed to form a neutral salt A”B’. Therefore, it’s possible to assign each acid and base a certain relative weight, or “combining weight,” which indicates how they will combine to form neutral salts. This reasoning can also be applied to any number of acids and bases.
It is true that Richter did not find out by himself this simplest statement of the law of neutrality which he discovered, but he expressed the same consequence in a rather clumsy way by a table of the combining weights of different bases related to the unit amount of a certain acid, and doing the same thing for the unit weight of every other acid. Then he observed that the numbers in these different tables are proportionate one to another. The same holds good if the corresponding series of the combining weights of acids for unit weights of different bases were tabulated. It was only a little later that a Berlin physicist, G.E. Fischer, united the whole system of Richter’s numbers simply into a double table of acids and bases, taking as unit an arbitrarily chosen substance, namely sulphuric acid. The following table by Fischer is therefore the first table of combining weights.
It’s true that Richter didn’t discover this simplest statement of the law of neutrality on his own, but he articulated the same idea in a somewhat awkward way by creating a table of the combining weights of different bases in relation to a set amount of a specific acid, and did the same for the unit weight of every other acid. He noticed that the numbers in these different tables are proportional to each other. The same is true if the corresponding series of combining weights of acids for unit weights of different bases were arranged in a table. It was only later that a physicist from Berlin, G.E. Fischer, consolidated Richter’s entire system of numbers into a simple double table of acids and bases, using an arbitrarily chosen substance, namely sulfuric acid, as the unit. Therefore, the following table by Fischer is the first table of combining weights.
Bases. | Acids. | ||
Alumina | 525 | Fluoric | 427 |
Magnesia | 615 | Carbonic | 577 |
Ammoniac | 672 | Sebacic | 706 |
Lime | 793 | Muriatic (hydrochloric) | 712 |
Soda | 859 | Oxalic | 755 |
Strontiane | 1329 | Phosphoric | 979 |
Potash | 1605 | Formic | 988 |
Baryte | 2222 | Sulphuric | 1000 |
Succinic | 1209 | ||
Nitric | 1405 | ||
Acetic | 1480 | ||
Citric | 1683 | ||
Tartaric | 1694 |
It is interesting again to notice how difficult it is for the discoverer of a new truth to find out the most simple and complete statement of his discovery. It looks as if the amount of work needed to get to the top of a new idea is so great that not enough energy remains to clear the very last few steps. It is noteworthy also to observe how difficult it was for the chemists of that time to understand the bearing of Richter’s work. Although a summary of his results was published in Berthollet’s Essai de statique chimique, one of the most renowned chemical books of that time, nobody dared for a long time to take up the scientific treasure laid open for all the world.
It's interesting to see how hard it is for someone to clearly express a new truth they've discovered. It seems that the effort required to reach the pinnacle of a new idea leaves little energy to refine those final steps. It's also notable to see how challenging it was for the chemists of that era to grasp the significance of Richter’s work. Even though a summary of his findings was published in Berthollet’s Essai de statique chimique, one of the most respected chemical texts of the time, no one was willing to engage with the valuable scientific insights that were available to everyone for a long time.
At the beginning of the 19th century the same question was taken up from quite another standpoint. John Dalton, in his investigations of the behaviour of gases, and in order to understand more easily what happened when gases John Dalton’s atomic theory. were absorbed by liquids, used the corpuscular hypothesis already mentioned in connexion with Boyle. While he depicted to himself how the corpuscles, or, as he preferred to call them, the “atoms” of the gases, entered the interstices of the atoms of the liquids in which they dissolved, he asked himself: Are the several atoms of the same substance exactly alike, or are there differences as between the grains of sand? Now experience teaches us that it is impossible to separate, for example, a quantity of pure water into two samples of somewhat different properties. When a pure substance is fractionated by partial distillation or partial crystallization or partial change into another substance by chemical means, we find constantly that the residue is not changed in its properties, as it would be if the atoms were slightly different, since in that case e.g. the lighter atoms would distil first and leave behind the heavier ones, &c. Therefore we must conclude that all atoms of the same kind are exactly alike in shape and weight. But, if this be so, then all combinations between different atoms must proceed in certain invariable ratios of the weights of the elements, namely by the ratio of the weights of the atoms. Now it is impossible to weigh the atoms directly; but if we determine the ratio of the weights in which oxygen and hydrogen combine to form water, we determine in this way also the relative weight of their atoms. By a proper number of analyses of simple chemical compounds we may determine the ratios between the weights of all elementary atoms, and, selecting one of them as a standard or unit, we may express the weight of all other atoms in terms of this unit. The following table is Dalton’s (Mem. of the Lit. and Phil. Soc. of Manchester (II.), vol. i. p. 287, 1805).
At the start of the 19th century, the same question was approached from a different perspective. John Dalton, in his studies on how gases behave, aimed to better understand what happens when gases are absorbed by liquids. He utilized the corpuscular hypothesis, which had been previously mentioned in relation to Boyle. While he visualized how the corpuscles, or "atoms" of the gases as he preferred to call them, moved into the spaces between the atoms of the liquids they dissolved in, he pondered: Are all atoms of the same substance identical, or are there variations like the differences among grains of sand? Experience shows us that it’s impossible to separate, for instance, a pure quantity of water into two samples with slightly different properties. When a pure substance is separated by partial distillation, partial crystallization, or partial chemical transformation, we consistently find that the remaining material doesn’t change in its properties, as it would if the atoms were slightly different; otherwise, the lighter atoms would distill first and leave behind the heavier ones, and so on. Therefore, we must conclude that all atoms of the same kind are indeed identical in shape and weight. If that’s the case, then all combinations of different atoms must occur in consistent ratios based on the weights of the elements, specifically according to the weight ratios of the atoms. Although it's not possible to weigh atoms directly, by determining the weight ratio of oxygen and hydrogen when they combine to form water, we can also ascertain the relative weights of their atoms. Through sufficient analysis of simple chemical compounds, we can establish the weight ratios of all elemental atoms, selecting one as a standard or unit, and express the weights of all other atoms in terms of this unit. The following table is Dalton’s (Mem. of the Lit. and Phil. Soc. of Manchester (II.), vol. i. p. 287, 1805).
Table of the Relative Weights of the Ultimate Particles of Gaseous and other Bodies.
Table of the Relative Weights of the Ultimate Particles of Gases and Other Substances.
Hydrogen | 1 | Nitrous oxide | 13.7 |
Azot | 4.2 | Sulphur | 14.4 |
Carbone | 4.3 | Nitric acid | 15.2 |
Ammonia | 5.2 | Sulphuretted hydrogen | 15.4 |
Oxygen | 5.5 | Carbonic acid | 15.3 |
Water | 6.5 | Alcohol | 15.1 |
Phosphorus | 7.2 | Sulphureous acid | 19.9 |
Phosphuretted hydrogen | 8.2 | Sulphuric acid | 25.4 |
Nitrous gas | 9.3 | Carburetted hydrogen from | |
Ether | 9.6 | stagnant water | 6.3 |
Gaseous oxide of carbone | 9.8 | Olefiant gas | 5.3 |
Dalton at once drew a peculiar inference from this view. If two elements combine in different ratios, one must conclude that different numbers of atoms unite. There must be, therefore, a simple ratio between the quantities of the one element united to the same quantity of the other. Dalton showed at once that the analysis of carbon monoxide and of carbonic acid satisfied this consequence, the quantity of oxygen in the second compound being double the quantity in the first one. A similar relation holds good between marsh gas and olefiant gas (ethylene). This is the “law of multiple proportions” (see Atom). By these considerations Dalton extended the law of combining weights, which Richter had demonstrated only for neutral salts, to all possible chemical compounds. While the scope of the law was enormously extended, its experimental foundation was even smaller than with Richter. Dalton did not concern himself very much with the experimental verification of his ideas, and the first communication of his theory in a paper on the absorption of gases by liquids (1803) attracted as little notice as Richter’s discoveries. Even when T. Thomson published Dalton’s views in an appendix to his widely read text-book of chemistry, matters did not change very much. It was only by the work of J.J. Berzelius that the enormous importance of Dalton’s views was brought to light.
Dalton quickly drew a unique conclusion from this perspective. If two elements combine in different ratios, it suggests that different numbers of atoms are coming together. Therefore, there should be a simple ratio between the amounts of one element that combine with the same amount of the other. Dalton immediately demonstrated that the analysis of carbon monoxide and carbonic acid supported this idea, as the amount of oxygen in the second compound is double that in the first. A similar relationship exists between marsh gas and olefiant gas (ethylene). This is known as the “law of multiple proportions” (see Atom). With these insights, Dalton expanded the law of combining weights, which Richter had shown only for neutral salts, to all possible chemical compounds. While the law's scope was significantly broadened, its experimental basis was even weaker than it was with Richter. Dalton didn’t focus much on experimentally verifying his ideas, and the first announcement of his theory in a paper about the absorption of gases by liquids (1803) attracted as little attention as Richter's discoveries. Even when T. Thomson published Dalton’s ideas in an appendix to his popular chemistry textbook, things didn’t change much. It was only through J.J. Berzelius’s work that the significant importance of Dalton’s ideas became evident.
Berzelius was at that time busy in developing a trustworthy system of chemical analysis, and for this purpose he investigated the composition of the most important salts. He then went over the work of Richter, and realized that by his Work of J.J. Berzelius. law he could check the results of his analyses. He tried it and found the law to hold good in most cases; when it did not, according to his analyses, he found that the error was on his own side and that better analyses fitted Richter’s law. Thus he was prepared to understand the importance of Dalton’s views and he proceeded at once to test its exactness. The result was the best possible. The law of the combining weights of the 256 atoms, or of the atomic weights, proved to hold good in every case in which it was tested. All chemical combinations between the several elements are therefore regulated by weight according to certain numbers, one for each element, and combinations between the elements occur only in ratios given by these weights or by simple multiples thereof. Consequently Berzelius regarded Dalton’s atomic hypothesis as proved by experiment, and became a strong believer in it.
Berzelius was busy at that time developing a reliable system for chemical analysis. To do this, he looked into the composition of the most important salts. He then reviewed Richter's work and realized that he could use his law to verify his analysis results. He tested it and found the law to be valid in most instances; when it wasn't, he discovered that the mistake was on his side, and that more accurate analyses matched Richter’s law. This prepared him to understand the significance of Dalton’s ideas, and he immediately set out to test their accuracy. The result was excellent. The law of combining weights of atoms, or atomic weights, held true in every case it was applied to. All chemical combinations between different elements are regulated by weight according to specific numbers—one for each element—and combinations only occur in ratios defined by these weights or simple multiples of them. As a result, Berzelius considered Dalton’s atomic hypothesis to be experimentally proven and became a strong supporter of it.
At the same time W.H. Wollaston had discovered independently the law of multiple proportions in the case of neutral and acid salts. He gave up further work when he learned of Dalton’s ideas, but afterwards he pointed out that it was necessary to distinguish the hypothetical part in Dalton’s views from their empirical part. The latter is the law of combining weights, or the law that chemical combination occurs only according to certain numbers characteristic for each element. Besides this purely experimental law there is the hypothetical explanation by the assumption of the existence of atoms. As it is not proved that this explanation is the only one possible, the existence of the law is not a proof of the existence of the atoms. He therefore preferred to call the characteristic combining numbers of the elements not “atomic weights” but “chemical equivalents.”
At the same time, W.H. Wollaston independently discovered the law of multiple proportions regarding neutral and acid salts. He stopped further research when he learned about Dalton’s ideas but later pointed out that it was important to separate the hypothetical aspect of Dalton’s theories from the empirical aspect. The latter refers to the law of combining weights, which states that chemical combinations only occur in specific numbers unique to each element. In addition to this purely experimental law, there is a hypothetical explanation that assumes the existence of atoms. Since it hasn't been proven that this explanation is the only possible one, the existence of the law does not prove the existence of atoms. Therefore, he preferred to refer to the characteristic combining numbers of the elements as “chemical equivalents” instead of “atomic weights.”
Although there were at all times chemists who shared Wollaston’s cautious views, the atomic hypothesis found general acceptance because of its ready adaptability to the most diverse chemical facts. In our time it is even rather difficult to separate, as Wollaston did, the empirical part from the hypothetical one, and the concept of the atom penetrates the whole system of chemistry, especially organic chemistry.
Although there have always been chemists who agreed with Wollaston’s cautious views, the atomic hypothesis gained widespread acceptance because it easily adapted to diverse chemical facts. Nowadays, it’s quite challenging to separate the empirical aspects from the hypothetical ones as Wollaston did, and the idea of the atom is deeply integrated into the entire field of chemistry, especially organic chemistry.
If we compare the work of Dalton with that of Richter we find a fundamental difference. Richter’s inference as to the existence of combining weights in salts is based solely on an experimental observation, namely, the persistence of neutrality after double decomposition; Dalton’s theory, on the contrary, is based on the hypothetical concept of the atom. Now, however favourably one may think of the probability of the existence of atoms, this existence is really not an observed fact, and it is necessary therefore to ask: Does there exist some general fact which may lead directly to the inference of the existence of combining weights of the elements, just as the persistence of neutrality leads to the same consequence as to acids and bases? The answer is in the affirmative, although it took a whole century before this question was put and answered. In a series of rather difficult papers (Zeits. f. Phys. Chem. since 1895, and Annalen der Naturphilosophie since 1902), Franz Wald (of Kladno, Bohemia) developed his investigations as to the genesis of this general law. Later, W. Ostwald (Faraday lecture, Trans. Chem. Soc., 1904) simplified Wald’s reasoning and made it more evident.
If we compare Dalton's work with Richter's, we can see a fundamental difference. Richter's conclusion about the existence of combining weights in salts is based strictly on experimental observation, specifically, the maintenance of neutrality after double decomposition. Dalton's theory, on the other hand, is founded on the theoretical idea of the atom. Regardless of how likely one might believe in the existence of atoms, this existence has not actually been observed, so we need to ask: Is there some general fact that can lead directly to the conclusion about the existence of combining weights of elements, just as the persistence of neutrality leads to the same conclusion regarding acids and bases? The answer is yes, although it took a whole century before this question was raised and answered. In a series of fairly complex papers (Zeits. f. Phys. Chem. since 1895, and Annalen der Naturphilosophie since 1902), Franz Wald (from Kladno, Bohemia) developed his studies on the origin of this general law. Later, W. Ostwald (Faraday lecture, Trans. Chem. Soc., 1904) simplified Wald’s reasoning and made it clearer.
The general fact upon which the necessary existence of combining weights of the elements may be based is the shifting character of the boundary between elements and compounds. It has already been pointed out that Lavoisier considered the alkalis and the alkaline earths as elements, because in his time they had not been decomposed. As long as the decomposition had not been effected, these compounds could be considered and treated like elements without mistake, their combining weight being the sum of the combining weights of their (subsequently discovered) elements. This means that compounds enter in reaction with other substances as a whole, just as elements do. In particular, if a compound AB combines with another substance (elementary or compound) C to form a ternary compound ABC, it enters this latter as a whole, leaving behind no residue of A or B. Inversely, if a ternary compound ABC be changed into a binary one AB by taking away the element C, there will not be found any excess of A or B, but both elements will exhibit just the same ratio in the binary as in the ternary compound.
The basic idea supporting the necessary existence of combining weights for elements is the changing nature of the line separating elements from compounds. It's already been noted that Lavoisier regarded alkalis and alkaline earths as elements because they hadn't been broken down in his time. As long as no decomposition happened, these compounds could be handled like elements without error, with their combining weight being the total of the combining weights of the elements that were discovered later. This implies that compounds react with other substances as complete units, just like elements do. Specifically, if a compound AB combines with another substance (either an element or another compound) C to create a three-part compound ABC, it does so as a whole, leaving no leftover parts of A or B. Conversely, if a three-part compound ABC is turned back into a two-part compound AB by removing element C, there won't be any leftover A or B; both elements will maintain the same ratio in the two-part compound as they did in the three-part compound.
Experimentally this important fact was proved first by Berzelius, who showed that by oxidizing lead sulphide, PbS, to lead sulphate, PbSO4, no excess either of sulphur or lead could be found after oxidation; the same held good with barium sulphite, BaSO3, when converted into barium sulphate, BaSO4. On a much larger scale and with very great accuracy the inverse was proved half a century later by J.S. Stas, who reduced silver chlorate, AgClO3, silver bromate, AgBrO3, and silver iodate, AgIO3, to the corresponding binary compounds, AgCl, AgBr and AgI, and searched in the residue of the reaction for any excess of silver or halogen. As the tests for these substances are among the most sensitive in analytical chemistry, the general law underwent a very severe test indeed. But the result was the same as was found by Berzelius—no excess of one of the elements could be discovered. We may infer, therefore, generally that compounds enter ulterior combinations without change of the ratio of their elements, or that the ratio between different elements in their compounds is the same in binary and ternary (or still more complicated) combinations.
Experimentally, this important fact was first demonstrated by Berzelius, who showed that when lead sulfide (PbS) is oxidized to lead sulfate (PbSO4), no excess of sulfur or lead can be found after oxidation. The same was true for barium sulfite (BaSO3) when it was converted into barium sulfate (BaSO4). On a much larger scale and with great precision, the opposite was proven half a century later by J.S. Stas, who reduced silver chlorate (AgClO3), silver bromate (AgBrO3), and silver iodate (AgIO3) to their corresponding binary compounds, AgCl, AgBr, and AgI, and looked for any excess of silver or halogen in the reaction residue. Since the tests for these substances are among the most sensitive in analytical chemistry, the general law underwent a very rigorous test. But the result was the same as what Berzelius found—no excess of any of the elements could be detected. Thus, we can generally conclude that compounds enter further combinations without changing the ratio of their elements, meaning that the ratio between different elements in their compounds remains consistent in binary and ternary (or even more complex) combinations.
This law involves the existence of general combining weights just in the same way as the law of neutrality with double decomposition of salts involves the law of the combining weights of acids and bases. For if the ratio between A and B is determined, this same ratio must obtain in all ternary and more complicated compounds, containing the same elements. The same is true for any other elements, C, D, E, F, &c., as related to A. But by applying the general law to the ternary compound ABC the same conclusion may be drawn as to the ratio A : C in all compounds containing A and C, or B : C in the corresponding compounds. By reasoning further in the same way, we come to the conclusion that only such compounds are possible which contain elements according to certain ratio-numbers, i.e. their combining weight. Any other ratio would violate the law of the integral reaction of compounds.
This law refers to the existence of general combining weights, similar to how the law of neutrality in double decomposition of salts relates to the combining weights of acids and bases. If the ratio between A and B is established, that same ratio must apply to all ternary and more complex compounds that include the same elements. The same applies to any other elements, C, D, E, F, etc., in relation to A. By applying the general law to the ternary compound ABC, we can also conclude the ratio A : C in all compounds containing A and C, or B : C in the relevant compounds. Continuing this reasoning, we conclude that only those compounds are possible which contain elements in certain ratio-numbers, i.e., their combining weight. Any other ratio would contradict the law of integral reaction of compounds.
As to the law of multiple proportions, it may be deduced by a similar reasoning by considering the possible combinations between a compound, e.g. AB, and one of its elements, say B. AB and B can combine only according to their combining weights, and therefore the quantity of B combining with AB is equal to the quantity of AB which has combined with A to form AB. The new combination is therefore to be expressed by AB2. By extending this reasoning in the same way, we get the general conclusion that any compounds must be composed according to the formula AmBnCp..., where m, n, p, &c., are integers.
As for the law of multiple proportions, it can be understood through similar reasoning by looking at the possible combinations between a compound, like AB, and one of its elements, say B. AB and B can only combine based on their combining weights, so the amount of B that combines with AB is equal to the amount of AB that has combined with A to form AB. The new combination is then represented as AB2. By continuing this logic, we reach the general conclusion that any compounds must be formed according to the formula AmBnCp..., where m, n, p, etc., are integers.
The bearing of these considerations on the atomic hypothesis is not to disprove it, but rather to show that the existence of the law of combining weights, which has been considered for so long as a proof of the truth of this hypothesis, does not necessarily involve such a consequence. Whether atoms may prove to exist or not, the law of combining weights is independent thereof.
The impact of these thoughts on the atomic hypothesis is not to debunk it but to demonstrate that the existence of the law of combining weights, which has long been viewed as evidence supporting this hypothesis, does not automatically imply such a conclusion. Whether or not atoms turn out to exist, the law of combining weights stands on its own.
Two problems arose from the discoveries of Dalton and Berzelius. The first was to determine as exactly as possible the correct numbers of the combining weights. The other results from the fact that the same elements may Atomic weight determinations. combine in different ratios. Which of these ratios gives the true ratio of the atomic weights? And which is the multiple one? Both questions have had most ample experimental investigation, and are now answered rather satisfactorily. The first question was a purely technical one; its answer depended upon analytical skill, and Berzelius in his time easily took the lead, his numbers being readily accepted on the continent of Europe. In England there was a certain hesitation at first, owing to Prout’s assumption (see below), but when Turner, at the instigation of the British Association for the Advancement of Science, tested Berzelius’s numbers and found them entirely in accordance with his own measurements, these numbers were universally accepted. But then a rather large error in one of Berzelius’s numbers (for carbon) was discovered in 1841 by Dumas and Stas, and a kind of panic ensued. New determinations of the atomic weights were undertaken from all sides. The result was most satisfactory for Berzelius, for no other important error was discovered, and even Dumas remarked that repeating a determination by Berzelius only meant getting the same result, if one worked properly. In later times more exact measurements, corresponding to the increasing art in analysis, were carried out by various workers, amongst 257 whom J.S. Stas distinguished himself. But even the classical work of Stas proved not to be entirely without error; for every period has its limit in accuracy, which extends slowly as science extends. In recent times American chemists have been especially prominent in work of this kind, and the determinations of E.W. Morley, T.W. Richards and G.P. Baxter rank among the first in this line of investigation.
Two problems came up from the discoveries of Dalton and Berzelius. The first was to determine as accurately as possible the correct combining weights. The second stemmed from the fact that the same elements can combine in different ratios. Which of these ratios reflects the true atomic weights? And which is the multiple one? Both questions have been thoroughly investigated experimentally, and are now answered quite satisfactorily. The first question was purely technical; its answer relied on analytical skills, and during his time, Berzelius easily led the way, with his numbers being widely accepted in continental Europe. In England, there was some hesitation at first due to Prout’s assumption (see below), but when Turner, at the request of the British Association for the Advancement of Science, tested Berzelius’s numbers and found them completely consistent with his own measurements, those numbers were embraced universally. However, a significant mistake in one of Berzelius’s numbers (for carbon) was discovered in 1841 by Dumas and Stas, leading to a sort of panic. New determinations of the atomic weights were initiated everywhere. The outcome was highly favorable for Berzelius, as no other major errors were found, and even Dumas noted that repeating a determination by Berzelius only resulted in the same finding, provided the work was done correctly. In later years, more precise measurements were conducted by various researchers as analytical techniques advanced, among whom J.S. Stas made a notable distinction. Yet, even Stas's classic work wasn't entirely free of errors; every era has its limits in accuracy, which gradually expand as science progresses. Recently, American chemists have played a particularly prominent role in this field, with the determinations by E.W. Morley, T.W. Richards, and G.P. Baxter ranking among the top in this line of research.
During this work the question arose naturally: How far does the exactness of the law extend? It is well known that most natural laws are only approximations, owing to disturbing causes. Are there disturbing causes also with atomic weights? The answer is that as far as we know there are none. The law is still an exact one. But we must keep in mind that an absolute answer is never possible. Our exactness is in every case limited, and as long as the possible variations lie behind this limit, we cannot tell anything about them. In recent times H. Landolt has doubted and experimentally investigated the law of the conservation of weight.
During this work, a natural question came up: How far does the accuracy of the law go? It’s widely understood that most natural laws are just approximations due to various interfering factors. Are there also interfering factors with atomic weights? The answer is that, as far as we know, there aren’t any. The law remains quite accurate. However, we must remember that an absolute answer is never achievable. Our accuracy is always limited, and as long as the potential variations are within this limit, we can’t say anything about them. Recently, H. Landolt has questioned and experimentally investigated the law of the conservation of weight.
Landolt’s experiments were carried out in vessels of the shape of an inverted U, each branch holding one of the substances to react one on the other. Two vessels were prepared as equal as possible and hung on both sides of a most sensitive balance. Then the difference of weight was determined in the usual way by exchanging both the vessels on the balance. After this set of weighings one of the vessels was inverted and the chemical reaction between the contained substances was performed; then the double weighing was repeated. Finally also the second vessel was inverted and a third set of weighings taken. From blank experiments where the vessels were filled with substances which did not react one on the other, the maximum error was determined to 0.03 milligramme. The reactions experimented with were: silver salts with ferrous sulphate; iron on copper sulphate; gold chloride and ferrous chloride; iodic acid and hydriodic acid; iodine and sodium sulphite; uranyl nitrate and potassium hydrate; chloral hydrate and potassium hydrate; electrolysis of cadmium iodide by an alternating current; solution of ammonium chloride, potassium bromide and uranyl nitrate in water, and precipitation of an aqueous solution of copper sulphate by alcohol. In most of these experiments a slight diminution of weight was observed which exceeded the limit of error distinctly in two cases, viz. silver nitrate with ferrous sulphate and iodic acid with hydriodic acid, the loss of weight amounting from 0.068 to 0.199 mg. with the first and 0.047 to 0.177 mg. with the second reaction on about 50 g. of substance. As each of these reactions had been tried in nine independent experiments, Landolt felt certain that there was no error of observation involved. But when the vessels were covered inside with paraffin wax, no appreciable diminution of weight was observed.
Landolt’s experiments were conducted in containers shaped like an inverted U, with each side holding one of the substances to react with each other. Two identical containers were set up as equally as possible and suspended on either side of a very sensitive balance. The weight difference was determined in the usual way by swapping the containers on the balance. After this round of weighings, one of the containers was flipped, and the chemical reaction between the substances inside was carried out; then the weighing was repeated. Finally, the second container was also inverted, and a third set of weighings was taken. From control experiments where the containers held non-reactive substances, the maximum error was found to be 0.03 milligram. The reactions examined included: silver salts with ferrous sulfate; iron with copper sulfate; gold chloride and ferrous chloride; iodic acid and hydriodic acid; iodine and sodium sulfite; uranyl nitrate and potassium hydroxide; chloral hydrate and potassium hydroxide; electrolysis of cadmium iodide using alternating current; solutions of ammonium chloride, potassium bromide, and uranyl nitrate in water; and the precipitation of an aqueous solution of copper sulfate with alcohol. In most of these experiments, a slight decrease in weight was observed, which clearly exceeded the error limit in two cases: silver nitrate with ferrous sulfate, and iodic acid with hydriodic acid. The weight loss ranged from 0.068 to 0.199 mg. for the first reaction and from 0.047 to 0.177 mg. for the second reaction on about 50 g. of substance. Since each of these reactions was tested in nine independent experiments, Landolt was confident there was no observational error involved. However, when the containers were coated inside with paraffin wax, no significant decrease in weight was seen.
These experiments apparently suggested a small decrease of weight as a consequence of chemical processes. On repeating them, however, and making allowance for the different amounts of water absorbed on the surface of the vessel at the beginning and end of the experiment, Landolt found in 1908 (Zeit. physik. Chem. 64, p. 581) that the variations in weight are equally positive and negative, and he concluded that there was no change in weight, at least to the extent of 1 part in 10,000,000.
These experiments seemed to indicate a slight weight loss due to chemical reactions. However, when repeating them and accounting for the varying amounts of water absorbed on the vessel's surface at the start and end of the experiment, Landolt discovered in 1908 (Zeit. physik. Chem. 64, p. 581) that the weight changes were both positive and negative. He concluded that there was no change in weight, at least within a margin of 1 part in 10,000,000.
There is still another question regarding the numerical values of the atomic weights, namely: Are there relations between the numbers belonging to the several elements? Richter had arranged his combining The periodic arrangement. weights according to their magnitude, and endeavoured to prove that they form a certain mathematical series. He also explained the incompleteness of his series by assuming that certain acids or bases requisite to the filling up of the gaps in the series, were not yet known. He even had the satisfaction that in his time a new base was discovered, which fitted rather well into one of his gaps; but when it turned out afterwards that this new base was only calcium phosphate, this way of reasoning fell into discredit and was resumed only at a much later date.
There’s another question about the atomic weights: Are there relationships between the numbers assigned to different elements? Richter organized his combining weights by size and tried to show that they create a specific mathematical series. He also explained the gaps in his series by suggesting that certain acids or bases needed to fill those gaps hadn’t been discovered yet. He even felt satisfied when a new base was found during his time that fit one of his gaps quite well; however, it later turned out that this new base was just calcium phosphate, which led to his reasoning losing credibility and it wasn’t brought up again until much later.
To obtain a correct table of atomic weights the second question already mentioned, viz. how to select the correct value in the case of multiple proportions, had to be answered. Berzelius was constantly on the look-out for means to distinguish the true atomic weights from their multiples or sub-multiples, but he could not find an unmistakable test. The whole question fell into a terrible disorder, until in the middle of the 19th century S. Cannizzaro showed that by taking together all partial evidences one could get a system of atomic weights consistent in itself and fitting the exigencies of chemical systematics. Then a startling discovery was made by the same method which Richter had tried in vain, by arranging all atomic weights in one series according to their numerical values.
To get an accurate table of atomic weights, the second question mentioned earlier—how to choose the correct value when there are multiple proportions—needed to be addressed. Berzelius was always searching for ways to distinguish the true atomic weights from their multiples or sub-multiples, but he couldn’t find a definitive test. The entire issue descended into chaos until the mid-19th century when S. Cannizzaro demonstrated that by considering all partial evidence, one could establish a consistent system of atomic weights that aligned with the needs of chemical classification. Then, a remarkable breakthrough occurred using the same method that Richter had unsuccessfully attempted by arranging all atomic weights in a single series based on their numerical values.
The Periodic Law.—The history of this discovery is rather long. As early as 1817 J.W. Döbereiner of Jena drew attention to the fact that the combining weight of strontium lies midway between those of calcium and barium, and some years later he showed that such “triads” occurred in other cases too. L. Gmelin tried to apply this idea to all elements, but he realized that in many cases more than three elements had to be grouped together. While Ernst Lenssen applied the idea of triads to the whole table of chemical elements, but without any important result, the other idea of grouping more than three elements into series according to their combining weights proved more successful. It was the concept of homologous series just developed in organic chemistry which influenced such considerations. First Max von Pettenkofer in 1850 and then J.B.A. Dumas in 1851 undertook to show that such a series of similar elements could be formed, having nearly constant differences between their combining weights. It is true that this idea in all its simplicity did not hold good extensively enough; so J.P. Cooke and Dumas tried more complicated types of numerical series, but only with a temporary success.
The Periodic Law.—The history of this discovery is quite lengthy. As early as 1817, J.W. Döbereiner from Jena pointed out that the combining weight of strontium is halfway between those of calcium and barium. A few years later, he demonstrated that these “triads” appeared in other cases as well. L. Gmelin attempted to apply this concept to all elements but realized that in many instances, more than three elements needed to be grouped together. Ernst Lenssen applied the triad idea to the entire table of chemical elements, but it didn't yield significant results. On the other hand, the approach of grouping more than three elements into series based on their combining weights proved to be more effective. The idea of homologous series developed in organic chemistry influenced these discussions. First, Max von Pettenkofer in 1850 and then J.B.A. Dumas in 1851 set out to show that a series of similar elements could be formed, with nearly constant differences between their combining weights. It's true that this straightforward idea didn’t apply broadly enough; thus, J.P. Cooke and Dumas experimented with more complex types of numerical series, but only achieved temporary success.
The idea of arranging all elements in a single series in the order of the magnitude of their combining weights, the germ of which is to be found already in J.B. Richter’s work, appears first in 1860 in some tables published by Lothar Meyer for his lectures. Independently, A.E.B. de Chancourtois in 1862, J.A.R. Newlands in 1863, and D.I. Mendeléeff in 1869, developed the same idea with the same result, namely, that it is possible to divide this series of all the elements into a certain number of very similar parts. In their papers, which appeared in the same year, 1869, Lothar Meyer and Mendeléeff gave to all these trials the shape now generally adopted. They succeeded in proving beyond all doubt that this series was of a periodic character, and could be cut into shorter pieces of similar construction. Here again gaps were present to be filled up by elements to be discovered, and Mendeléeff, who did this, predicted from the general regularity of his table the properties of such unknown elements. In this case fate was more kind than with Richter, and science had the satisfaction of seeing these predictions turn out to be true.
The concept of organizing all elements in a single sequence based on the size of their combining weights, which traces back to J.B. Richter’s work, first appeared in 1860 in some tables published by Lothar Meyer for his lectures. Independently, A.E.B. de Chancourtois in 1862, J.A.R. Newlands in 1863, and D.I. Mendeléeff in 1869, developed the same idea and reached the same conclusion: it is possible to divide this series of elements into several very similar parts. In their papers, released in the same year, 1869, Lothar Meyer and Mendeléeff presented these findings in the format that is now commonly accepted. They demonstrated definitively that this series exhibited a periodic character and could be broken down into shorter segments of similar structure. Again, there were gaps that needed to be filled with elements yet to be discovered, and Mendeléeff, who did just that, predicted the properties of these unknown elements based on the overall patterns in his table. In this instance, fate was kinder than it was for Richter, and science had the satisfaction of seeing these predictions come true.
The following table contains this periodic arrangement of the elements according to their atomic weight. By cutting the whole series into pieces of eight elements (or more in several cases) and arranging these one below another in the alternating way shown in the table, one finds similar elements placed in vertical series whose properties change gradually and with some regularity according to their place in the table. Not only the properties of the uncombined elements obey this rule, but also almost all properties of similar compounds of the elements.
The following table shows the periodic arrangement of the elements based on their atomic weight. By splitting the entire series into groups of eight elements (or more in some cases) and stacking them as indicated in the table, similar elements are found in vertical columns, with properties that change gradually and consistently based on their position in the table. This pattern applies not only to the properties of the individual elements, but also to almost all characteristics of similar compounds formed by these elements.
He 4.0 | Li 7.03 | Be 9.1 | B 11.0 | C 12.00 | N 14.01 | O 16.00 | F 19.0 | .. | .. | .. |
Ne 20 | Na 23.00 | Mg 24.32 | Al 27.1 | Si 28.4 | P 31.0 | S 32.06 | Cl 35.45 | .. | .. | .. |
Ar 39.9 | K 39.15 | Ca 40.1 | Sc 44.1 | Ti 48.1 | V 51.2 | Cr 52.0 | Mn 55.0 | Fe 55.9, | Ni 58.7, | Co 59.0 |
.. | Cu 63.6 | In 65.4 | Ga 70 | Ge 72.5 | As 75.0 | Se 79.2 | Br 79.96 | .. | .. | .. |
Kr 83.0 | Rb 85.5 | Sr 87.6 | Y 89.0 | Zr 90.6 | Cb(Nb) 94 | Mo 96.0 | .. | Ru 101.7, | Rh 103.0, | Pd 106.5 |
.. | Ag 107.93 | Cd 112.4 | In 115 | Sn 119.0 | Sb 120.2 | Te 127.6 | I 126.97 | .. | .. | .. |
Xe 130.7 | Cs 132.9 | Ba 137.4 | La 138.9 | Ce &c. 140 | Ta 181 | W 184 | .. | Os 191, | Ir 193.0, | Pt 194.8 |
.. | Au 197.2 | Hg 200.0 | Tl 204.1 | Pb 206.9 | Bi 208.0 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. |
.. | .. | Ra 225 | .. | Th 232.5 | .. | U 238.5 | .. | .. | .. | .. |
But upon closer investigation it must be confessed that these regularities can be called only rules, and not laws. In the first line one would expect that the steps in the values of the atomic weights should be regular, but it is not so. There are even cases when it is necessary to invert the order of the atomic weights to satisfy the chemical necessities. Thus argon has a larger number than potassium, but must precede it to fit into its proper place. The same is true of tellurium and iodine. It looks as if the real elements were scattered somewhat haphazard on a regular table, or as if some independent factor were active to disturb an existing regularity. It may be that the new facts mentioned above will lead also to an explanation of these irregularities; at present we must recognize them and not try to explain them away. Such considerations have to be kept in mind especially in regard to the very numerous attempts to express the series of combining weights in a mathematical form. In several cases rather surprising agreements were found, but never without exception. It looks as if some very important factor regulating the whole matter is still unknown, and before this has been elucidated no satisfactory treatment of the matter is possible. It seems therefore premature to enter into the details of these speculations.
But upon closer examination, it has to be acknowledged that these regularities can be considered only as rules, not laws. Initially, one would expect the changes in atomic weights to follow a consistent pattern, but that's not the case. There are instances where the order of atomic weights needs to be reversed to meet chemical requirements. For example, argon has a higher atomic weight than potassium, but it must come before it to fit correctly. The same goes for tellurium and iodine. It appears that the actual elements are somewhat randomly arranged on a systematic table, or that some external factor is interfering with an existing order. It's possible that the new facts mentioned earlier will also help explain these irregularities; for now, we must acknowledge them rather than try to rationalize them. This is especially important considering the many attempts to express the series of combining weights in a mathematical way. In several cases, there were quite surprising correlations discovered, but never without exception. It seems that some crucial factor influencing the entire situation is still unknown, and until this is clarified, no satisfactory analysis of the topic can be achieved. Therefore, it seems premature to delve into the details of these theories.
In recent times not only our belief in the absolute exactness of the law of the conservation of weight has been shaken, but also our belief in the law of the conservation of the elements. The wonderful substance radium, whose Transmutation of elements. existence has made us to revise quite a number of old and established views, seems to be a fulfilment of the old problem of the alchemists. It is true that by its help lead is not changed into gold, but radium not only changes itself into another element, helium (Ramsay), but seems also to cause other elements to change. Work in this line is of present day origin only and we do not know what new laws will be found to regulate these most unexpected reactions (see Radioactivity). But we realize once more that no law can be regarded as free from criticism and limitation; in the whole realm of exact sciences there is no such thing as the Absolute.
Recently, our confidence in the absolute accuracy of the law of conservation of weight has been challenged, as has our belief in the law of conservation of elements. The remarkable substance radium, whose existence has prompted us to reconsider several old and established views, appears to solve the ancient problem of alchemists. While it’s true that lead isn't transformed into gold using its properties, radium not only converts itself into another element, helium (Ramsay), but also seems to induce changes in other elements. Work in this area is relatively recent, and we do not yet know what new laws will emerge to explain these unexpected reactions (see Radioactivity). We once again understand that no law can be seen as beyond criticism or limitation; in the entire field of exact sciences, there is no such thing as the Absolute.
Another question regarding the values of atomic weights was raised very soon after their first establishment. From the somewhat inexact first determinations William Prout concluded that all atomic weights are multiples of the Prout’s assumption. atomic weight of hydrogen, thus suggesting all other elements to be probably made up from condensed hydrogen. Berzelius found his determinations not at all in accordance with this assumption, and strongly opposed the arbitrary rounding off of the numbers practised by the partisans of Prout’s hypothesis. His hypothesis remained alive, although almost every chemist who did exact atomic weight determinations, especially Stas, contradicted it severely. Even in our time it seems to have followers, who hope that in some way the existing experimental differences may disappear. But one of the most important and best-known relations, that between hydrogen and oxygen, is certainly different from the simple ratio 1 : 16, for it has been determined by a large number of different investigators and by different methods to be undoubtedly lower, namely, 1 : 15.87. Therefore, if Prout’s hypothesis contain an element of truth, by the act of condensation of some simpler substance into the present chemical elements a change of weight also must have occurred, such that the weight of the element did not remain exactly the weight of the simpler substance which changed into it. We have already remarked that such phenomena are not yet known with certainty, but they cannot be regarded as utterly impossible.
Another question about atomic weights came up soon after they were first established. From the somewhat imprecise early measurements, William Prout concluded that all atomic weights are multiples of the atomic weight of hydrogen, suggesting that all other elements are likely made up of condensed hydrogen. Berzelius found his measurements did not align with this idea at all and strongly opposed the arbitrary rounding of numbers favored by supporters of Prout's hypothesis. His theory persisted, even though nearly every chemist who performed exact atomic weight measurements, particularly Stas, strongly refuted it. Even today, there are still some who believe that the existing experimental discrepancies might resolve themselves somehow. However, one of the most significant and well-known relationships, that between hydrogen and oxygen, certainly differs from the simple ratio of 1:16, as determined by numerous researchers with various methods, which is unmistakably lower at 1:15.87. So, if there's any truth to Prout's hypothesis, the condensation of some simpler substance into the current chemical elements must have involved a change in weight, meaning the weight of the element didn't remain precisely the same as that of the simpler substance it originated from. We've already noted that such phenomena are not yet known for certain, but they shouldn't be considered entirely impossible.
It may here be mentioned that the internationality of science has shown itself active also in the question of atomic weights. International table of atomic weights. These numbers undergo incessantly small variations because of new work done for their determination. To avoid the uncertainty arising from this inevitable state of affairs, an international committee was formed by the co-operation of the leading chemical societies all over the world, and an international table of the most probable values is issued every year. The following table is that for 1910:—
It’s worth noting that the global nature of science has also been evident in the issue of atomic weights. International atomic weights table. These values constantly change slightly due to ongoing research aimed at determining them. To minimize the confusion caused by this unavoidable situation, an international committee was created with the collaboration of major chemical societies worldwide, and they publish an international table of the most accurate values every year. The following table is for 1910:—
International Atomic Weights, 1910.
International Atomic Weights, 1910.
Name. | Symbol. | Atomic Weights. O = 16. | Name. | Symbol. | Atomic Weights. O = 16. |
Aluminium | Al | 27.1 | Mercury | Hg | 200.0 |
Antimony | Sb | 120.2 | Molybdenum | Mo | 96.0 |
Argon | Ar | 39.9 | Neodymium | Nd | 144.3 |
Arsenic | As | 74.96 | Neon | Ne | 20.0 |
Barium | Ba | 137.37 | Nickel | Ni | 58.68 |
Beryllium | Be | 9.1 | Nitrogen | N | 14.01 |
(Glucinum) | Gl | Osmium | Os | 190.9 | |
Bismuth | Bi | 208.0 | Oxygen | O | 16.00 |
Boron | B | 11.0 | Palladium | Pd | 106.7 |
Bromine | Br | 79.92 | Phosphorus | P | 31.0 |
Cadmium | Cd | 112.40 | Platinum | Pt | 195.0 |
Caesium | Cs | 132.81 | Potassium | K | 39.10 |
Calcium | Ca | 40.09 | Praseodymium | Pr | 140.6 |
Carbon | C | 12.00 | Radium | Ra | 226.4 |
Cerium | Ce | 140.25 | Rhodium | Rh | 102.9 |
Chlorine | Cl | 35.46 | Rubidium | Rb | 85.45 |
Chromium | Cr | 52.0 | Ruthenium | Ru | 101.7 |
Cobalt | Co | 58.97 | Samarium | Sm | 150.4 |
Columbium | Cb | 93.5 | Scandium | Sc | 44.1 |
(Niobium) | (Nb) | Selenium | Se | 79.2 | |
Copper | Cu | 63.57 | Silicon | Si | 28.3 |
Dysprosium | Dy | 162.5 | Silver | Ag | 107.88 |
Erbium | Er | 167.4 | Sodium | Na | 23.00 |
Europium | Eu | 152.0 | Strontium | Sr | 87.62 |
Fluorine | F | 19.0 | Sulphur | S | 32.07 |
Gadolinium | Gd | 157.3 | Tantalum | Ta | 181.0 |
Gallium | Ga | 69.9 | Tellurium | Te | 127.5 |
Germanium | Ge | 72.5 | Terbium | Th | 159.2 |
Gold | Au | 197.2 | Thallium | Tl | 204.0 |
Helium | He | 4.0 | Thorium | Th | 232.42 |
Hydrogen | H | 1.008 | Thulium | Tm | 168.5 |
Indium | In | 114.8 | Tin | Sn | 119.0 |
Iodine | I | 126.92 | Titanium | Ti | 48.1 |
Iridium | Ir | 193.1 | Tungsten | W | 184.0 |
Iron | Fe | 55.85 | Uranium | U | 238.5 |
Krypton | Kr | 83.0 | Vanadium | V | 51.2 |
Lanthanum | La | 139.0 | Xenon | Xe | 130.7 |
Lead | Pb | 207.10 | Ytterbium | ||
Lithium | Li | 7.00 | (Neoytterbium) | Yb | 172.0 |
Lutecium | Lu | 174.0 | Yttrium | Y | 89.0 |
Magnesium | Mg | 24.32 | Zinc | Zn | 65.37 |
Manganese | Mn | 54.93 | Zirconium | Zr | 90.6 |
In the long and manifold development of the concept of the element one idea has remained prominent from the very beginning down to our times: it is the idea of a primordial matter. Since the naive statement of Thales that all Concluding remarks. things came from water, chemists could never reconcile themselves to the fact of the conservation of the elements. By an experimental investigation which extended over five centuries and more, the impossibility of transmuting one element into another—for example, lead into gold—was demonstrated in the most extended way, and nevertheless this law has so little entered the consciousness of the chemists that it is seldom explicitly stated even in carefully written text-books. On the other side the attempts to reduce the manifoldness of the actual chemical elements to one single primordial matter have never ceased, and the latest development of science seems to endorse such a view. It is therefore necessary to consider this question from a most general standpoint.
In the long and diverse evolution of the concept of elements, one idea has remained prominent from the very beginning up to today: the idea of a fundamental substance. Since Thales' simple assertion that everything came from water, chemists have struggled to accept the idea of the conservation of elements. Through more than five centuries of experimental research, the impossibility of changing one element into another—for instance, lead into gold—has been extensively demonstrated. However, this principle has hardly made its way into the awareness of chemists, often going unmentioned even in well-written textbooks. On the other hand, efforts to reduce the variety of existing chemical elements to a single fundamental substance have continued, and recent scientific developments seem to support this perspective. It is thus essential to explore this question from a broad viewpoint.
In physical science, the chemical elements may be compared with such concepts as mass, momentum, quantity of electricity, entropy and such like. While mass and entropy are determined univocally by a unit and a number, quantity of electricity has a unit, a number and a sign, for it can be positive as well as negative. Momentum has a unit, a number and a direction in space. Elements do not have a common unit as the former magnitudes, but every element has its own unit, and there is no transition from one to another. All these magnitudes underlie a law of conservation, but to a very different degree. While mass was 259 considered as absolutely invariable in the classical mechanics, the newer theories of the electrical constitution of matter make mass dependent on the velocity of the moving electron. Momentum also is not entirely conservative because it can be changed by light-pressure. Entropy is known as constantly increasing, remaining constant only in an ideal limiting case. With chemical elements we observe the same thing as with momentum; though till recently considered as conservative, there is now experimental evidence that they do not always show this character.
In physical science, chemical elements can be compared to concepts like mass, momentum, quantity of electricity, entropy, and similar ideas. While mass and entropy are defined by a unit and a number, quantity of electricity has a unit, a number, and a sign, since it can be positive or negative. Momentum has a unit, a number, and a direction in space. Unlike the former magnitudes, elements don’t share a common unit; each element has its own unit, and there’s no transition from one to another. All these magnitudes follow a law of conservation, but to varying degrees. Mass was considered completely unchanging in classical mechanics, but newer theories about the electrical structure of matter show that mass depends on the speed of the moving electron. Momentum isn’t entirely conserved either because it can be altered by light pressure. Entropy is known to constantly increase, remaining constant only in an ideal limiting case. With chemical elements, we see the same trend as with momentum; although they were considered conservative until recently, there’s now experimental evidence that they don't always exhibit this property.
Generally the laws of the conservation of mass, weight and elements are expressed as the “law of the conservation of matter.” But this expression lacks scientific exactness because the term “matter” is generally not defined exactly, and because only the above-named properties of ponderable objects do not change, while all other properties do to a greater or less extent. Considered in the most general way, we may define matter as a complex of gravitational, kinetic and chemical energies, which are found to cling together in the same space. Of these energies the capacity factors, namely, weight, mass and elements, are conservative as described, while the intensity factors, potential, velocity and affinity, may change in wide limits. To explain why we find these energies constantly combined one with another, we only have to think of a mass without gravity or a ponderable body without mass. The first could not remain on earth because every movement would carry it into infinite space, and the second would acquire infinite velocity by the slightest push and would also disappear at once. Therefore only such objects which have both mass and weight can be handled and can be objects of our knowledge. In the same way all other energies come to our knowledge only by being (at least temporarily) associated with this combination of mass and weight. This is the true meaning of the term “matter.”
Generally, the laws of conservation of mass, weight, and elements are described as the "law of conservation of matter." However, this term lacks precise scientific accuracy because "matter" is not clearly defined. Also, only the mentioned properties of tangible objects remain constant, while all other properties can change to varying degrees. In broad terms, we can define matter as a combination of gravitational, kinetic, and chemical energies that exist together in the same space. Among these energies, the capacity factors—weight, mass, and elements—are conserved as described, while the intensity factors—potential, velocity, and affinity—can vary widely. To understand why these energies are constantly combined, we can imagine a mass without gravity or a tangible body without mass. The first wouldn’t be able to stay on Earth because any movement would send it into infinite space, and the second would reach infinite velocity with the slightest push and would also vanish immediately. Therefore, only objects that possess both mass and weight can be interacted with and studied. Similarly, all other energies are understood only when they are (at least temporarily) linked to this combination of mass and weight. This is the true meaning of the term "matter."
In this line of ideas matter appears not at all as a primary concept, but as a complex one; there is therefore no reason to consider matter as the last term of scientific analysis of chemical facts, and the idea of a primordial matter appears as a survival from the very first beginning of European natural philosophy. The most general concept science has developed to express the variety of experience is energy, and in terms of energy (combined with number, magnitudes, time and space) all observed and observable experiences are to be described.
In this context, matter doesn't seem to be a fundamental concept but rather a complicated one; so there's no reason to view matter as the final element in the scientific analysis of chemical phenomena. The idea of a basic matter seems to be a remnant from the very early stages of European natural philosophy. The broadest concept that science has created to capture the range of experiences is energy, and all observed and observable experiences can be described in terms of energy (along with numbers, magnitudes, time, and space).
ELEMI, an oleo-resin (Manilla elemi) obtained in the Philippine Islands, probably from Canarium commune (nat. ord. Burseraceae), which when fresh and of good quality is a pale yellow granular substance, of honey-like consistency, but which gradually hardens with age. It is soluble in alcohol and ether, and has a spicy taste with a smell like fennel. In the 17th and 18th centuries the term elemi usually denoted an oleo-resin (American or Brazilian elemi) obtained from trees of the genus Icica in Brazil, and still earlier it meant oriental or African elemi, derived from Boswellia Frereana, which flourishes in the neighbourhood of Cape Gardafui. The word, like the older term animi, appears to have been derived from enhaemon (Gr. ἔναιμον), the name of a styptic medicine said by Pliny to contain tears exuded by the olive tree of Arabia.
ELEMI is an oleo-resin (Manila elemi) sourced from the Philippine Islands, likely from Canarium commune (family Burseraceae). When fresh and of good quality, it appears as a pale yellow granular substance with a honey-like texture, but it gradually hardens over time. It's soluble in alcohol and ether and has a spicy flavor reminiscent of fennel. In the 17th and 18th centuries, the term elemi typically referred to an oleo-resin (American or Brazilian elemi) derived from trees of the genus Icica in Brazil; previously, it indicated oriental or African elemi, coming from Boswellia Frereana, which grows near Cape Gardafui. The term seems to have originated from enhaemon (Gr. ἔναιμον), which was a name for a styptic medicine that Pliny claimed included tears from the olive tree found in Arabia.
ELEPHANT, the designation of the two existing representatives of the Proboscidea, a sub-order of ungulate mammals, and also extended to include their more immediate extinct relatives. As the distinctive characteristics of the sub-order, and also of the single existing genus Elephas, are given in the article Proboscidea, it will suffice to point out how the two existing species are distinguished from one another.
ELEPHANT, the name for the two living representatives of the Proboscidea, a sub-order of hoofed mammals, and also referring to their closer extinct relatives. Since the unique traits of the sub-order, as well as the one existing genus Elephas, are detailed in the article Proboscidea, it is enough to highlight how the two existing species differ from each other.
The more specialized of the two species is the Indian or Asiatic elephant, Elephas maximus, specially characterized by the extreme complexity of the structure of its molar teeth, which are composed of a great number of tall and thin plates of enamel and dentine, with the intervals filled by cement (see Proboscidea, fig. 1). The average number of plates of the six successive molar teeth may be expressed by the “ridge-formula” 4, 8, 12, 12, 16, 24. The plates are compressed from before backwards, the anterior and posterior surfaces (as seen in the worn grinding face of the tooth) being nearly parallel. Ears of moderate size. Upper margin of the end of the proboscis developed into a distinct finger-like process, much longer than the lower margins, and the whole trunk uniformly tapering and smooth. Five nails on the fore-feet, and four (occasionally five) on the hind-feet.
The more specialized of the two species is the Indian or Asiatic elephant, Elephas maximus, which is particularly noted for the very complex structure of its molar teeth. These teeth are made up of a large number of tall, thin plates of enamel and dentine, with the spaces filled in by cement (see Proboscidea, fig. 1). The average number of plates in the six successive molar teeth can be shown with the "ridge formula" 4, 8, 12, 12, 16, 24. The plates are compressed from front to back, with the front and back surfaces (as seen in the worn grinding surface of the tooth) being almost parallel. The ears are of moderate size. The upper edge of the end of the trunk is developed into a distinct finger-like process, which is much longer than the lower edges, and the entire trunk tapers uniformly and is smooth. There are five nails on the front feet and four (sometimes five) on the back feet.
The Asiatic elephant inhabits the forest-lands of India, Burma, the Malay Peninsula, Cochin China, Ceylon and Sumatra. Elephants from the last-named islands present some variations from those of the mainland, and have been separated under the names of E. zeylonicus and E. sumatranus, but they are not more than local races, and the Ceylon animal, which is generally tuskless, may be the typical E. maximus, in which case the Indian race will be E. maximus indicus. The appearance of the Asiatic elephant is familiar to all. In the wild state it is gregarious, associating in herds of ten, twenty or more individuals, and, though it may under certain circumstances become dangerous, it is generally inoffensive and even timid, fond of shade and solitude and the neighbourhood of water. The height of the male at the shoulder when full grown is usually from 8 to 10 ft., occasionally as much as 11, and possibly even more. The female is somewhat smaller.
The Asiatic elephant lives in the forests of India, Burma, the Malay Peninsula, Cochin China, Ceylon, and Sumatra. Elephants from Sumatra show some differences from those on the mainland and are classified as E. zeylonicus and E. sumatranus, but these are just local variations. The Ceylon elephant, which is typically tuskless, may represent the standard E. maximus, while the Indian population is likely E. maximus indicus. The look of the Asiatic elephant is well-known to everyone. In the wild, they are social animals, usually found in groups of ten, twenty, or more. Although they can be dangerous in certain situations, they are generally gentle and even shy, preferring shade, solitude, and proximity to water. Adult males usually stand between 8 to 10 feet tall at the shoulder, occasionally reaching up to 11 feet or more. Females are somewhat smaller.
The following epitome of the habits of the Asiatic elephants is extracted from Great and Small Game of India and Tibet, by R. Lydekker:—
The following summary of the habits of Asiatic elephants is taken from Great and Small Game of India and Tibet, by R. Lydekker:—
![]() |
Fig. 1. Asiatic Elephant (Elephas maximus). |
“The structure of the teeth is sufficient to indicate that the food consists chiefly of grass, leaves, succulent shoots and fruits; and this has been found by observation to be actually the case. In this respect the Asiatic species differs very widely from its African relative, whose nutriment is largely composed of boughs and roots. Another difference between the two animals is to be found in the great intolerance of the direct rays of the sun displayed by the Asiatic species, which never voluntarily exposes itself to their influence. Consequently, during the hot season in Upper India, and at all times except during the rains in the more southern districts, elephants keep much to the denser parts of the forests. In Southern India they delight in hill-forest, where the undergrowth is largely formed of bamboo, the tender shoots of which form a favourite delicacy; but during the rains they venture out to feed on the open grass tracts. Water is everywhere essential to their well-being; and no animals delight more thoroughly in a bath. Nor are they afraid to venture out of their depth, being excellent swimmers, and able, by means of their trunks, to breathe without difficulty when the entire body is submerged. The herds, which are led by females, appear in general to be family parties; and although commonly restricted to from thirty to fifty, may occasionally include as many as one hundred head. The old bulls are very generally solitary for a considerable portion of the year, but return to the herds during the pairing season. Some ‘rogue’ elephants—gunda of the natives—remain, however, permanently separated from the rest of their kind. All such solitary bulls, as their colloquial name indicates, are of a spiteful disposition; and it appears that with the majority the inducement to live apart is due to their partiality for cultivated crops, into which the more timid females are afraid to venture. ‘Must’ elephants are males in a condition of—probably sexual—excitement, when an abundant discharge of dark oily matter exudes from two pores in the forehead. In addition to various sounds produced at other times, an elephant when about to charge gives vent to a shrill loud ‘trumpet’; and on such occasions rushes on its 260 adversary with its trunk safely rolled up out of danger, endeavouring either to pin him to the ground with its tusks (if a male tusker) or to trample him to death beneath its ponderous knees or feet.”
“The structure of the teeth shows that their diet mainly consists of grass, leaves, tender shoots, and fruits; and this has been confirmed through observation. In this way, the Asiatic species is quite different from its African counterpart, which mainly feeds on branches and roots. Another notable difference is that the Asiatic species cannot tolerate direct sunlight and avoids it whenever possible. As a result, during the hot season in Upper India and at all times except when it rains in the southern regions, elephants tend to stay in the denser areas of the forests. In Southern India, they enjoy hilly forests where the undergrowth is mostly bamboo, and the tender shoots are a favorite treat; however, during the rains, they come out to graze on the open grasslands. Water is crucial for their well-being, and no animals enjoy bathing more. They are also not afraid to go deep into the water, being excellent swimmers, and can breathe easily through their trunks even when completely submerged. The herds, usually led by females, tend to be family groups; while they generally consist of thirty to fifty members, they can sometimes have as many as one hundred. Older males mostly live alone for a large part of the year but rejoin the herds during mating season. Some 'rogue' elephants—known as gunda by the locals—remain permanently apart from the others. These solitary males, as their name suggests, tend to be aggressive, and it seems that many prefer to live separately because they like cultivated crops that the more timid females avoid. 'Must' elephants are males experiencing a state of—likely sexual—excitement, marked by a significant discharge of dark oily substance from two pores on their foreheads. Aside from various sounds they make at other times, an elephant preparing to charge lets out a loud, shrill 'trumpet'; in such moments, it charges at its opponent with its trunk safely tucked away, trying to either pin it down with its tusks (if it’s a male tusker) or crush it under its heavy feet or knees.”
Exact information in regard to the period of gestation of the female is still lacking, the length of the period being given from eighteen to twenty-two months by different authorities. The native idea, which may be true, is that the shorter period occurs in the case of female and the longer in that of male calves. In India elephants seldom breed in captivity, though they do so more frequently in Burma and Siam; the domesticated stock is therefore replenished by fresh captures. Occasionally two calves are produced at a birth, although the normal number is one. Calves suckle with their mouths and not with their trunks. Unlike the African species, the Indian elephant charges with its trunk curled up, and consequently in silence.
Exact information about the gestation period of female elephants is still unclear, with different sources stating it lasts from eighteen to twenty-two months. There's a local belief, which might be accurate, that female calves have a shorter gestation period while male calves have a longer one. In India, elephants rarely breed in captivity, although this happens more often in Burma and Siam; thus, the domesticated population relies on new captures to increase their numbers. Occasionally, two calves are born at once, but the typical number is one. Calves suckle using their mouths, not their trunks. Unlike African elephants, Indian elephants charge with their trunks curled up, and as a result, they do so silently.
![]() |
Fig. 2.—Immature African Elephant (Elephas africanus). |
As regards their present distribution in India, elephants are found along the foot of the Himalaya as far west as the valley of Dehra-Dun, where the winter temperature falls to a comparatively low point. A favourite haunt used to be the swamp of Azufghur, lying among the sal-forests to the northward of Meerut. In the great tract of forest between the Ganges and Kistna rivers they occur locally as far west as Bilaspur and Mandla; they are met with in the Western Ghats as far north as between latitude 17° and 18°, and are likewise found in the hill-forests of Mysore, as well as still farther south. In this part of the peninsula they ascend the hills to a considerable height, as they do in the Newara Eliya district of Ceylon, where they have been encountered at an elevation of over 7000 ft. There is evidence that about three centuries ago elephants wandered in the forests of Malwa and Nimar, while they survived to a later date in the Chanda district of the Central Provinces. At the comparatively remote epoch when the Deccan was a forest tract, they were probably also met with there, but the swamps of the Bengal Sundarbans appear unsuited to their habits.
As for their current distribution in India, elephants are found at the base of the Himalayas as far west as the Dehra-Dun valley, where the winter temperatures drop significantly. A common spot was the Azufghur swamp, located among the sal forests north of Meerut. In the vast forest area between the Ganges and Kistna rivers, they can be found locally as far west as Bilaspur and Mandla; they appear in the Western Ghats as far north as between latitude 17° and 18°, and are also present in the hill forests of Mysore and even further south. In this region of the peninsula, they climb to considerable heights, just like they do in the Newara Eliya district of Sri Lanka, where they've been seen at elevations over 7000 ft. There’s evidence that about three hundred years ago, elephants roamed the forests of Malwa and Nimar, and they persisted in the Chanda district of the Central Provinces for a while longer. In the earlier days when the Deccan was a forest area, they were probably found there too, but the swamps of the Bengal Sundarbans seem unsuitable for their lifestyle.
Of tusks, the three longest specimens on record respectively measure 8 ft. 9 in., 8 ft. 2 in. and 8 ft.; their respective weights being 81, 80 and 90 ℔. These are, however, by no means the heaviest—one, whose length is 7 ft. 33⁄8 in., weighing 102 ℔; while a second, of which the length is 7 ft. 3¼ in., scaled 97½ ℔. Of the largest pair in the possession of the British Museum, which belonged to an elephant killed in 1866 by Colonel G.M. Payne in Madras, one tusk measures 6 ft. 8 in. in length, and weighs 77¾ ℔, the other being somewhat smaller. It should be added that some of these large tusks came from Ceylon; such tuskers being believed to be descended from mainland animals imported into the island. “White” elephants are partial or complete albinos, and are far from uncommon in Burma and Siam. Young Indian elephants are hairy, thus showing affinity with the mammoth.
The three longest tusks on record measure 8 ft. 9 in., 8 ft. 2 in., and 8 ft. respectively, with weights of 81, 80, and 90 lbs. However, these aren’t the heaviest—one tusk measuring 7 ft. 3 3/8 in. weighs 102 lbs, while another, at 7 ft. 3¼ in., weighs 97½ lbs. The largest pair in the British Museum belonged to an elephant killed in 1866 by Colonel G.M. Payne in Madras; one tusk measures 6 ft. 8 in. long and weighs 77¾ lbs, while the other is slightly smaller. It should be noted that some of these large tusks came from Ceylon, and it’s believed that these tuskers are descendants of mainland animals that were imported to the island. “White” elephants are either partial or complete albinos and are not uncommon in Burma and Siam. Young Indian elephants are hairy, showing a connection to the mammoth.
The African elephant is a very different animal from its Asiatic cousin, both as regards structure and habits; and were it not for the existence of intermediate extinct species, might well be regarded as the representative of a distinct genus. Among its characteristics the following points are noticeable. The molar teeth are of coarse construction, with fewer and larger plates and thicker enamel; the ridge-formula being 3, 6, 7, 7, 8, 10; while the plates are not flattened, but thicker in the middle than at the edges, so that their worn grinding-surfaces are lozenge-shaped. Ears very large. The upper and lower margins of the end of the trunk form two nearly equal prehensile lips. Only three toes on the hind-foot. A very important distinction is to be found in the conformation of the trunk, which, as shown in fig. 2, looks as though composed of a number of segments, gradually decreasing in size from base to tip like the joints of a telescope, instead of tapering gradually and evenly from one extremity to the other. The females have relatively large tusks, which are essential in obtaining their food. Except where exterminated by human agency (and this has been accomplished to a deplorable extent), the African elephant is a native of the wooded districts of the whole of Africa south of the Sahara. It is hunted chiefly for the sake of the ivory of its immense tusks, of which it yields the principal source of supply to the European market, and the desire to obtain which is rapidly leading to the extermination of the species. In size the male African elephant often surpasses the Asiatic species, reaching nearly 12 ft. in some cases. The circumference of the fore-foot is half the height at the shoulder, a circumstance which enables sportsmen to estimate approximately the size of their quarry. A tusk in the British Museum measures 10 ft. 2 in. in length, with a basal girth of 24 in. and a weight of 226½ ℔; but a still longer, although lighter, tusk was brought to London in 1905.
The African elephant is quite different from its Asian relative, both in structure and behavior, and if not for the presence of intermediate extinct species, it could easily be seen as part of a separate genus. Here are some of its noticeable features: the molar teeth are robust, with fewer but larger plates and thicker enamel; the ridge formula is 3, 6, 7, 7, 8, 10; the plates aren't flattened but thicker in the center than at the edges, giving their worn grinding surfaces a diamond shape. They have very large ears. The upper and lower edges of the trunk's tip form two nearly equal prehensile lips. There are only three toes on the hind foot. A significant difference is in the trunk's shape, which, as shown in fig. 2, appears segmented, gradually shrinking in size from the base to the tip like the joints of a telescope, rather than tapering smoothly from one end to the other. Females have relatively large tusks, which are crucial for foraging for food. Unless they have been wiped out by humans (which has unfortunately happened to a shocking extent), the African elephant is found in the wooded areas of all of Africa south of the Sahara. They are mainly hunted for their large tusks, which provide the primary supply of ivory to the European market, and the pursuit of this has quickly led to the species' decline. Male African elephants often outsize their Asian counterparts, reaching nearly 12 feet in height in some cases. The circumference of the fore-foot is half the height at the shoulder, allowing hunters to roughly gauge the size of their target. A tusk displayed in the British Museum measures 10 feet 2 inches in length, with a base girth of 24 inches and weighing 226½ pounds; however, an even longer but lighter tusk was transported to London in 1905.
Several local races of African elephant have been described, mainly distinguished from one another by the form and size of the ears, shape of the head, &c. The most interesting of these is the pigmy Congo race, E. africanus pumilio, named on the evidence of an immature specimen in the possession of C. Hagenbeck, the well-known animal-dealer of Hamburg, in 1905. According to Hagenbeck’s estimate, this elephant, which came from the French Congo, was about six years old at the time it came under scientific notice. Moreover, in the opinion of the same observer, it is in no wise an abnormally dwarfed or ill-grown representative of the normal type of African elephant, but a well-developed adolescent animal. In height it stood about the same as a young individual of the ordinary African elephant when about a year and a half old, the vertical measurement at the shoulder being only 4 ft., or merely a foot higher than a new-born Indian elephant. Hagenbeck’s estimate of its age was based on the presence of well-developed tusks, and the relative proportion of the fore and hind limbs, which are stated to show considerable differences in the case of the African elephant according to age. Nothing was stated as to the probability of an increase in the stature of the French Congo animal as it grows older; but even if we allow another foot, its height would be considerably less than half that of a large Central African bull of the ordinary elephant.
Several local subspecies of African elephant have been identified, mainly differing in the shape and size of their ears, head shape, etc. The most intriguing of these is the pygmy Congo race, E. africanus pumilio, named based on an immature specimen that belonged to C. Hagenbeck, the famous animal dealer from Hamburg, in 1905. According to Hagenbeck’s assessment, this elephant, which originated from the French Congo, was about six years old when it was first studied. Furthermore, this observer believed it was not an unusually small or poorly developed example of the typical African elephant, but rather a well-grown young animal. It was roughly the same height as a 1.5-year-old ordinary African elephant, standing about 4 ft at the shoulder, just a foot taller than a newborn Indian elephant. Hagenbeck estimated its age based on the presence of well-formed tusks and the noticeable differences in the proportions of the front and back legs as the African elephant matures. There was no mention of whether the French Congo elephant is likely to grow taller as it ages; however, even if it gains another foot, it would still be significantly less than half the height of a large Central African bull elephant.
By Dr Paul Matschie several races of the African elephant have been described, mainly, as already mentioned, on certain differences in the shape of the ear. From the two West African races (E. a. cyclotis and E. a. oxyotis) the dwarf Congo elephant is stated to be distinguished by the shape of its ear; comparison in at least one instance having been made with an immature animal. The relatively small size of the ear is one of the most distinctive characteristics of the dwarf race. Further, the skin is stated to be much less rough, with fewer cracks, while a more important difference occurs in the trunk, which lacks the transverse ridges so distinctive of the ordinary African elephant, and thereby approximates to the Asiatic species.
By Dr. Paul Matschie, several subspecies of the African elephant have been identified, primarily based on certain differences in ear shape. The two West African subspecies (E. a. cyclotis and E. a. oxyotis) are noted to have a distinguishing feature in the shape of their ears when compared to the dwarf Congo elephant; at least one comparison was made with a juvenile. The relatively small size of the ear is one of the most defining traits of the dwarf subspecies. Additionally, the skin is reported to be much smoother, with fewer cracks, while a more significant difference is found in the trunk, which lacks the transverse ridges that are characteristic of the typical African elephant, making it more similar to the Asian species.
If the differences in stature and form are constant, there can be no question as to the right of the dwarf Congo elephant to rank as a well-marked local race; the only point for consideration being whether it should not be called a species. The great interest in connexion with a dwarf West African race of elephant is in relation to the fossil pigmy elephants of the limestone 261 fissures and caves of Malta and Cyprus. Although some of these elephants are believed not to have been larger than donkeys, the height of others may be estimated at from 4 to 5 ft., or practically the same as that of the dwarf Congo race. By their describers, the dwarf European elephants were regarded as distinct species, under the names of Elephas melitensis, E. mnaidriensis and E. cypriotes; but since their molar teeth are essentially miniatures of those of the African elephant, it has been suggested by later observers that these animals are nothing more than dwarf races of the latter. This view may receive some support from the occurrence of a dwarf form of the African elephant in the Congo; and if we regard the latter as a subspecies of Elephas africanus, it seems highly probable that a similar position will have to be assigned to the pigmy European fossil elephants. If, on the other hand, the dwarf Congo elephant be regarded as a species, then the Maltese and Cyprian elephants may have to be classed as races of Elephas pumilio; or, rather, E. pumilio will have to rank as a race of the Maltese species. In this connexion it is of interest to note that, both in the Mediterranean islands and in West Africa, dwarf elephants of the African type are accompanied by pigmy species of hippopotamus, although we have not yet evidence to show that in Africa the two animals occupy actually the same area. Still, the close relationship of the existing Liberian pigmy hippopotamus to the fossil Mediterranean species is significant, in relation to the foregoing observations on the elephant.
If the differences in size and shape are consistent, there's no doubt that the dwarf Congo elephant qualifies as a distinct local race; the only question is whether it should be classified as a species. The main interest in relation to a dwarf West African race of elephant ties back to the fossil pygmy elephants found in the limestone fissures and caves of Malta and Cyprus. While some of these elephants are thought not to have been larger than donkeys, others are estimated to have stood between 4 to 5 feet tall, which is nearly the same height as the dwarf Congo race. Described by their discoverers, the dwarf European elephants were seen as separate species, known as Elephas melitensis, E. mnaidriensis, and E. cypriotes; however, since their molar teeth are essentially miniatures of those of the African elephant, later researchers have suggested these animals may simply be dwarf races of the latter. This perspective gains some traction from the existence of a dwarf form of the African elephant in the Congo; and if we consider the latter as a subspecies of Elephas africanus, it's quite likely that a similar classification will need to be applied to the pygmy European fossil elephants. Conversely, if we categorize the dwarf Congo elephant as a species, then the Maltese and Cypriot elephants might need to be classified as races of Elephas pumilio; or, more accurately, E. pumilio may need to be seen as a race of the Maltese species. In this context, it's noteworthy that both in the Mediterranean islands and in West Africa, dwarf elephants of the African type are accompanied by pygmy species of hippopotamus, although we haven't yet established evidence that these two animals actually share the same habitat in Africa. Nonetheless, the close relationship between the existing Liberian pygmy hippopotamus and the fossil Mediterranean species is significant, relating to the previous observations about the elephant.
It may be added that fossil remains of the African elephant have been obtained from Spain, Sicily, Algeria and Egypt, in strata of the Pleistocene age. Some of the main differences in the habits of the African as distinct from those of the Asiatic elephant have been mentioned under the heading of the latter species. The most important of these are the greater tolerance by the African animal of sunlight, and the hard nature of its food, which consists chiefly of boughs and roots. The latter are dug up with the tusks; the left one being generally employed in this service, and thus becoming much more worn than its fellow.
It’s worth noting that fossil remains of the African elephant have been found in Spain, Sicily, Algeria, and Egypt, dating back to the Pleistocene era. Some key differences between the African elephant and the Asian elephant have been discussed under the section about the latter species. The most significant differences include the African elephant’s greater tolerance for sunlight and its harder diet, which mainly consists of branches and roots. The elephant uses its tusks to dig up roots, typically favoring the left tusk for this task, causing it to wear down more than the right one.
ELEPHANTA ISLE (called by the natives Gharapuri), a small island between Bombay and the mainland of India, situated about 6 m. from Bombay. It is nearly 5 m. in circumference, and the few inhabitants it contains are employed in the cultivation of rice, and in rearing sheep and poultry for the Bombay market. The island, till within recent times, was almost entirely overgrown with wood; it contains several springs of good water. There are also important quarries of building stone. But it owes its chief celebrity to the mythological excavations and sculptures of Hindu superstition which it contains. Opposite to the landing-place was a colossal statue of an elephant, cracked and mutilated, from which the island received from the Portuguese the name it still bears. The statue was removed in 1864, and may now be seen in the Victoria Gardens, Bombay. At a short distance from this spot is a cave, the entrance to which is nearly 60 ft. wide and 18 high, supported by pillars cut out of the rock; the sides are sculptured into numerous compartments, containing representations of the Hindu deities, but many of the figures have been defaced by the zeal of the Mahommedans and Portuguese. In the centre of the excavations is a remarkable Trimurti or bust, formerly thought to represent the Hindu Triad, namely, Brahma the Creator, Vishnu the Preserver, and Siva or Mahadeva the Destroyer, but now held to be a triform representation of Siva alone. The heads are from 4 to 5 ft. in length, and are well cut, and the faces, with the exception of the under lip, are handsome. The head-dresses are curiously ornamented; and one of the figures holds in it’s hand a cobra, while on the cap are, amongst other symbols, a human skull and an infant. On each side of the Trimurti is a pilaster, the front of which is filled up by a human figure leaning on a dwarf, both much defaced. There is a large compartment to the right, hollowed a little, and covered with a great variety of figures, the largest of which is 16 ft. high, representing the double figure of Siva and Parvati, named Viraj, half male and half female. On the right is Brahma, four-faced, on a lotus—one of the very few representations of this god which now exist in India; and on the left is Vishnu. On the other side of the Trimurti is another compartment with various figures of Siva and Parvati, the most remarkable of which is Siva in his vindictive character, eight-handed, with a collet of skulls round his neck. On the right of the entrance to the cave is a square apartment, supported by eight colossal figures, containing a gigantic symbol of Mahadeva or Siva cut out of the rock. In a ravine connected with the great cave are two other caves, also containing sculptures, which, however, have been much defaced owing to the action of damp and the falling of the rocks; and in another hill is a fourth cave. This interesting retreat of Hindu religious art is said to have been dedicated to Siva, but it contains numerous representations of other Hindu deities. It has, however, for long been a place not so much of worship as of archaeological and artistic interest alike to the European and Hindu traveller. It forms a wonderful monument of antiquity, and must have been a work of incredible labour. Archaeological authorities are of opinion that the cave must have been excavated about the 10th century of the Christian era, if not earlier. The island is much frequented by the British residents of Bombay; and during his tour in India in 1875 King Edward VII., then prince of Wales, was entertained there at a banquet.
ELEPHANTA ISLAND (known to the locals as Gharapuri) is a small island located between Bombay and the Indian mainland, about 6 miles from Bombay. It has a circumference of nearly 5 miles, and its few residents are engaged in growing rice and raising sheep and poultry for the Bombay market. Until recently, the island was almost completely covered in forests and has several springs with good water. There are also significant quarries of building stone. However, its main fame comes from the mythological caves and sculptures associated with Hindu beliefs. Opposite the landing area was a giant statue of an elephant, which was cracked and damaged, and from which the Portuguese gave the island its current name. The statue was removed in 1864 and can now be seen in the Victoria Gardens, Bombay. Not far from this location is a cave with an entrance nearly 60 feet wide and 18 feet high, supported by pillars carved from the rock. The walls are adorned with various compartments displaying Hindu deities, although many of the figures have been damaged by the fervor of Muslims and Portuguese. In the center of the caves is a remarkable Trimurti or bust, previously thought to depict the Hindu Triad—Brahma the Creator, Vishnu the Preserver, and Siva or Mahadeva the Destroyer—but is now considered a representation of Siva only. The heads measure between 4 and 5 feet long and are finely carved; except for the lower lip, the faces are attractive. The headgear is intricately decorated; one of the figures holds a cobra in its hand, while symbols such as a human skull and an infant are found on the cap. On each side of the Trimurti stands a pilaster, with the front depicting a human figure leaning on a dwarf, both heavily damaged. There is a large compartment to the right, slightly hollowed out and filled with a variety of figures, the largest of which is 16 feet tall, representing the dual form of Siva and Parvati, known as Viraj, who is half male and half female. To the right is Brahma, depicted with four faces on a lotus—one of the very few representations of this god remaining in India; to the left is Vishnu. On the other side of the Trimurti is another compartment with various figures of Siva and Parvati, the most notable being Siva in his fierce aspect, with eight arms and a necklace made of skulls. To the right of the cave's entrance is a square room supported by eight colossal figures, containing a massive symbol of Mahadeva or Siva carved from the rock. In a ravine connected to the main cave are two additional caves, which also feature sculptures, but these have suffered significant damage from moisture and falling rocks; another hill contains a fourth cave. This fascinating site of Hindu religious art is said to have been dedicated to Siva, but it also features many representations of other Hindu deities. For a long time, it has attracted both European and Hindu travelers more for its archaeological and artistic value than for worship. It stands as an incredible monument of ancient times and must have required immense labor to create. Archaeologists believe that the cave was likely excavated around the 10th century of the Christian era, if not earlier. The island is frequently visited by British residents of Bombay; during his tour of India in 1875, King Edward VII, then the Prince of Wales, was hosted there for a banquet.
ELEPHANTIASIS (Barbadoes leg; Boucnemia), is a disease dependent on chronic lymphatic obstruction, and characterized by hypertrophy of the skin and subcutaneous tissue. Two distinct forms are known, (1) elephantiasis arabum, due to the development of living parasites, filaria sanguinis hominis (or filaria Bancrofti), and (2) the non-filarial form due to lymphatic obstruction from any other cause whatsoever, as erysipelas, the deposit of tuberculous or cancerous material in the lymphatic glands, phlegmasia dolens (white leg), long-continued eczema, &c. The enlargement is limited to a particular part of the body, generally one, or in rare cases both of the lower limbs, occasionally the scrotum, one of the labiae or the mammary gland; far more rarely the face. An attack is usually ushered in by febrile disturbance (elephantoid fever), the part attacked becoming rapidly swollen, and the skin tense and red as in erysipelas. The subcutaneous tissues become firm, infiltrated and hard, pitting only on considerable pressure. The skin becomes roughened with a network of dilated lymphatics, and vesicles and bullae may form, discharging a chyle-like fluid when broken (lymphorrhoea). In a later stage still the skin may be coarse and wart-like, and there is a great tendency for varicose ulcers to form. At the end of a variable time enlargement ceases to take place, and the disease enters a quiescent state: but recrudescences occur at irregular intervals, always ushered in by elephantoid fever. At the end of some years the attacks of fever cease, and the affected part remains permanently swollen. The only difference in the history of the two forms of the disease lies in the fact that the non-filarial form progresses steadily, until either the underlying condition is cured, or in the case of cancer, &c., brings about a fatal issue. The elephantiasis due to filaria is spread by the agency of mosquitoes, in whose bodies the intermediate stage is passed. The dead mosquito falls upon the water, which thus becomes infected, and hence the ova reach the human stomach. The young worm develops, bores through the gastric mucous membrane and finally becomes lodged in the lymphatics, usually of one or other of the extremities. A large number of embryonic filariae are produced. Some remain in the lymphatic spaces and cause lymphatic obstruction, while others enter the blood stream by night (filaria nocturna), or by day (filaria diurna). It is supposed that a mosquito, biting an infected person, itself becomes infected with the blood it abstracts, and that so a new generation is developed.
ELEPHANTITIS (Barbadoes leg; Boucnemia) is a disease caused by chronic lymphatic blockage, characterized by an increase in the size of the skin and tissue beneath it. There are two main types: (1) elephantiasis arabum, caused by living parasites, specifically filaria sanguinis hominis (or filaria Bancrofti), and (2) the non-filarial type, which occurs due to lymphatic blockage from various causes, such as erysipelas, deposits of tuberculosis or cancer in the lymph nodes, phlegmasia dolens (white leg), prolonged eczema, etc. The swelling is usually localized to a specific area of the body, most commonly affecting one or, in rare cases, both lower limbs, sometimes the scrotum, one of the labia, or the breast; very rarely, it affects the face. An episode typically starts with a feverish reaction (elephantoid fever), causing rapid swelling in the affected area, and the skin becomes tight and red, similar to erysipelas. The tissues beneath the skin become firm, swollen, and hard, only indenting under significant pressure. The skin may develop a rough texture with a network of enlarged lymphatics, and blisters may form, leaking a chyle-like fluid when ruptured (lymphorrhoea). In later stages, the skin may appear coarse and wart-like, and there is a strong likelihood of varicose ulcers forming. After a variable duration, the swelling stops increasing, and the disease enters a dormant phase; however, flare-ups can occur at irregular intervals, always starting with elephantoid fever. After several years, the fever episodes stop, and the affected area remains permanently swollen. The main difference between the two types lies in the fact that the non-filarial form progresses steadily until the underlying cause is treated, or in the case of cancer, leads to a fatal outcome. Elephantiasis caused by filaria is transmitted through mosquitoes, which carry the intermediate stage of the parasite. When a mosquito dies and falls into the water, it contaminates it, allowing the eggs to enter the human body. The young worms develop, penetrate the stomach lining, and settle in the lymphatic system, usually in one of the limbs. A large number of immature filariae are produced; some remain in lymphatic channels and cause blockage, while others enter the bloodstream at night (filaria nocturna) or during the day (filaria diurna). It’s believed that when a mosquito bites an infected person, it becomes infected itself with the blood it draws, thereby creating a new generation of parasites.
Treatment for this condition is unsatisfactory. Occasionally the dilated lymph trunks can be found, and an operation performed to implant them in some vein (lymphangeioplasty). And in some few other cases artificial lymphatics have been made by introducing sterilized silk thread in the subcutaneous tissues of the affected part, and prolonging it into the normal tissues. This operation has been most successful when performed on 262 elephantoid arms dependent on a late stage of cancerous breast. Elevation of the limb and elastic pressure should always be tried, but often amputation has to be resorted to in the end. The disease is totally different from the so-called elephantiasis graecorum or true leprosy, for which see Leprosy.
Treatment for this condition is not very effective. Sometimes, the swollen lymph ducts can be located, and surgery can be done to connect them to a vein (lymphangeioplasty). In a few other situations, artificial lymphatics have been created by inserting sterilized silk thread into the subcutaneous tissues of the affected area and extending it into the normal tissues. This procedure has been most effective when done on swollen arms caused by a late stage of breast cancer. It's always important to try elevating the limb and applying elastic pressure, but often amputation ends up being necessary. The disease is completely different from what's referred to as elephantiasis graecorum or true leprosy, for which see Leprosy.
ELEPHANT’S-FOOT, the popular name for the plant Testudinaria elephantipes, a native of the Cape of Good Hope. It takes its name from the large tuberous stem, which grows very slowly but often reaches a considerable size, e.g. more than 3 yds. in circumference with a height of nearly 3 ft. above ground. It is rich in starch, whence the name Hottentot bread, and is covered on the outside with thick, hard, corky plates. It develops slender, leafy, climbing shoots which die down each season. It is a member of the monocotyledonous order Dioscoreaceae, climbing plants with slender herbaceous or shrubby shoots, to which belong the yam and the British black bryony, Tamus communis.
ELEPHANT’S FOOT, the common name for the plant Testudinaria elephantipes, which is native to the Cape of Good Hope. It gets its name from the large tuberous stem that grows very slowly but can often become quite large, e.g. over 3 yards in circumference and nearly 3 feet tall above ground. It is high in starch, which is why it's called Hottentot bread, and has a thick, hard, corky outer layer. It produces slender, leafy climbing shoots that die off each season. It belongs to the monocotyledonous family Dioscoreaceae, which includes climbing plants with slender herbaceous or shrubby stems, like yam and the British black bryony, Tamus communis.
ELETS, a town of Russia, in the government of Orel, 122 m. by rail E.S.E. of Orel, on the railway which connects Riga with Tsaritsyn on the lower Volga. Pop. (1883) 36,680; (1900) 38,239. Owing to its advantageous position Elets has grown rapidly. Its merchants buy large quantities of grain, and numerous flour-mills, many of them driven by steam, prepare flour, which is forwarded to Moscow and Riga. The trade in cattle is very important. Elets has the first grain elevator erected in Russia (1887), a railway school, and important tanneries, foundries for cast iron and copper, tallow-melting works, limekilns and brickworks. The cathedral and two monasteries contain venerated historic relics.
ELETS is a town in Russia, located in the Orel region, 122 km E.S.E. of Orel, along the railway that connects Riga with Tsaritsyn on the lower Volga. The population was 36,680 in 1883 and 38,239 in 1900. Thanks to its strategic location, Elets has grown quickly. Its merchants purchase large quantities of grain, and numerous flour mills, many powered by steam, produce flour that is shipped to Moscow and Riga. The cattle trade is also very significant. Elets is home to the first grain elevator built in Russia (1887), a railway school, and several important tanneries, foundries for cast iron and copper, tallow-melting facilities, lime kilns, and brickworks. The cathedral and two monasteries house revered historical relics.
Elets is first mentioned in 1147, when it was a fort of Ryazan. The Turkish Polovtsi or Kumans attacked it in the 12th century, and the Mongols destroyed it during their first invasion (1239) and again in 1305. The Tatars plundered it in 1415 and 1450; and it seems to have been completely abandoned in the latter half of the 15th century. Its development dates from the second half of the 17th century, when it became a centre for the trade with south Russia.
Elets is first mentioned in 1147, when it was a fort of Ryazan. The Turkish Polovtsi or Kumans attacked it in the 12th century, and the Mongols destroyed it during their first invasion (1239) and again in 1305. The Tatars plundered it in 1415 and 1450; and it seems to have been completely abandoned in the latter half of the 15th century. Its development began in the second half of the 17th century, when it became a center for trade with southern Russia.
ELEUSIS, an ancient Greek city in Attica about 14 m. N.W. of Athens, occupying the eastern part of a rocky ridge close to the shore opposite the island of Salamis. Its fame is due chiefly to its Mysteries, for which see Mystery. Tradition carries back the origin of Eleusis to the highest antiquity. In the earlier period of its history it seems to have been an independent rival of Athens, and it was afterwards reckoned one of the twelve Old Attic cities. A considerable portion of its small territory was occupied by the plains of Thria, noticeable for their fertility, though the hopes of the husbandmen were not unfrequently disappointed by the blight of the south wind. To the west was the Πεδίον Ῥάριον or Rharian Plain, where Demeter is said to have sown the first seeds of corn; and on its confines was the field called Orgas, planted with trees consecrated to Demeter and Persephone. The sacred buildings were destroyed by Alaric in A.D. 396, and it is not certain whether they were restored before the extinction of all pagan rites by Theodosius. The present village on the site is of Albanian origin; it is called Lefsina or Lepsina, officially Ἐλευσίς.
ELEUSIS, an ancient Greek city in Attica located about 14 miles northwest of Athens, sits on the eastern side of a rocky ridge near the shore, facing the island of Salamis. It is most famous for its Mysteries, which you can read about in Mystery. According to tradition, Eleusis dates back to the earliest times. In its earlier history, it appeared to have been an independent competitor to Athens and was later counted among the twelve Old Attic cities. A significant part of its small territory included the fertile plains of Thria, although farmers often faced disappointment due to the destructive south wind. To the west was the Rarion Field or Rharian Plain, where it is said Demeter planted the first seeds of corn; at its borders was the field called Orgas, filled with trees dedicated to Demeter and Persephone. The sacred buildings were destroyed by Alaric in CE 396, and it’s unclear if they were rebuilt before Theodosius abolished all pagan rites. The current village on the site has Albanian origins; it’s called Lefsina or Lepsina, officially Eleusis.

The Site.—Systematic excavations, begun in 1882 by D. Philios for the Greek Archaeological Society, have laid bare the whole of the sacred precinct. It is now possible to trace its boundaries as extended at various periods, and also many successive stages in the history of the Telesterion, or Hall of Initiation. These complete excavations have shown the earlier and partial excavations to have been in some respects deceptive.
The Site.—Systematic digs, started in 1882 by D. Philios for the Greek Archaeological Society, have uncovered the entire sacred area. It's now possible to outline its boundaries as they changed over time and to map out many different stages in the history of the Telesterion, or Hall of Initiation. These thorough excavations have revealed that earlier and partial digs were misleading in some ways.
In front of the main entrance of the precinct is a large paved area, with the foundations of a temple in it, usually identified as that of Artemis Propylaea; in their present form both area and temple date from Roman times; and on each side of the Great Propylaea are the foundations of a Roman triumphal arch. Just below the steps of the Propylaea, on the left as one enters, there has been discovered, at a lower level than the 263 Roman pavement, the curb surrounding an early well. This is almost certainly the λλίχορον φρέαρ mentioned by Pausanias. The Great Propylaea is a structure of Roman imperial date, in close imitation of the Propylaea on the Athenian Acropolis. It is, however, set in a wall of 6th-century work, though repaired in later times. This wall encloses a sort of outer court, of irregular triangular shape. The Small Propylaea is not set exactly opposite to the Great Propylaea, but at an angle to it; an inscription on the architrave records that it was built by Appius Claudius Pulcher, the contemporary of Cicero. It is also set in a later wall that occupies approximately the same position as two earlier ones, which date from the 6th and 5th centuries respectively, and must have indicated the boundary of the inner precinct. From the Small Propylaea a paved road of Roman date leads to one of the doors of the Telesterion. Above the Small Propylaea, partly set beneath the overhanging rock, is the precinct of Pluto; it has a curious natural cleft approached by rock-cut steps. Several inscriptions and other antiquities were found here, including the famous head, now in Athens, usually called Eubouleus, though the evidence for its identification is far from satisfactory. A little farther on is a rock-cut platform, with a well, approached by a broad flight of steps, which probably served for spectators of the sacred procession. Beyond this, close to the side of the Telesterion, are the foundations of a temple on higher ground; it has been conjectured that this was the temple of Demeter, but there is no evidence that such a building existed in historic times, apart from the Telesterion.
In front of the main entrance of the precinct is a large paved area, with the foundations of a temple in it, usually identified as that of Artemis Propylaea; in their current form, both the area and the temple date back to Roman times. On each side of the Great Propylaea, there are the foundations of a Roman triumphal arch. Just below the steps of the Propylaea, to the left as you enter, there has been discovered, at a lower level than the 263 Roman pavement, the curb surrounding an early well. This is almost certainly the λλίχορον φρέαρ mentioned by Pausanias. The Great Propylaea is a structure from Roman imperial times, closely mimicking the Propylaea on the Athenian Acropolis. However, it is set within a wall from the 6th century, which has been repaired in later times. This wall encloses a kind of outer court, shaped irregularly like a triangle. The Small Propylaea is not directly opposite the Great Propylaea, but at an angle to it; an inscription on the architrave states that it was built by Appius Claudius Pulcher, a contemporary of Cicero. It is also set within a later wall that occupies roughly the same position as two earlier ones, dating from the 6th and 5th centuries respectively, which must have marked the boundary of the inner precinct. From the Small Propylaea, a paved road from Roman times leads to one of the doors of the Telesterion. Above the Small Propylaea, partly set beneath the overhanging rock, is the precinct of Pluto; it has an interesting natural cleft that is accessed by rock-cut steps. Several inscriptions and other antiquities were found here, including the famous head, now in Athens, commonly referred to as Eubouleus, though the evidence for its identification is far from conclusive. A little further along is a rock-cut platform with a well, accessed by a broad flight of steps, which likely served as seating for spectators of the sacred procession. Beyond this, near the side of the Telesterion, are the foundations of a temple on higher ground; it has been speculated that this was the temple of Demeter, but there is no evidence that such a building existed in historic times, aside from the Telesterion.
The Telesterion, or Hall of Initiation, was a large covered building, about 170 ft. square. It was surrounded on all sides by steps, which must have served as seats for the mystae, while the sacred dramas and processions took place on the floor of the hall: these seats were partly built up, partly cut in the solid rock; in later times they appear to have been cased with marble. There were two doors on each side of the hall, except the north-west, where it is cut out of the solid rock, and a rock terrace at a higher level adjoins it; this terrace may have been the station of those who were not yet admitted to the full initiation. The roof of the hall was carried by rows of columns, which were more than once renewed.
The Telesterion, or Hall of Initiation, was a large covered building, roughly 170 ft. square. It was surrounded on all sides by steps, which likely served as seats for the initiates while the sacred dramas and processions took place on the floor of the hall. These seats were partly built up and partly carved into the solid rock; in later times, they seem to have been covered with marble. There were two doors on each side of the hall, except on the north-west side, where it was carved out of solid rock, and a rock terrace at a higher level adjoined it. This terrace may have been where those not yet fully initiated stayed. The roof of the hall was supported by rows of columns, which were replaced more than once.
The architectural history of the hall has been traced by Professor W. Dörpfeld with the help of the various foundations that have been brought to light. The earliest building on the site is a small rectangular structure, with walls of polygonal masonry, built of the rock quarried on the spot. This was succeeded by a square hall, almost of the same plan as the later Telesterion, but about a quarter of the size; its eastern corner coincides with that of the later building, and it appears to have had a portico in front like that which, in the later hall, was a later addition. Its roof was carried by columns, of which the bases can still be seen. This building has with great probability been assigned to the time of Peisistratus; it was destroyed by the Persians. Between this event and the erection of the present hall, which must be substantially the one designed by Ictinus in the time of Pericles, there must have been a restoration, of which we may see the remains in a set of round sinkings to carry columns, which occur only in the north-east part of the hall; a set of bases arranged on a different system occur in the south-west part, and it is difficult to see how these two systems could be reconciled unless there were some sort of partition between the two parts of the hall. Both sets were removed to make way for the later columns, of which the bases and some of the drums still remain. These later columns are shown, by inscriptions and other fragments built into their bases, to belong to later Roman times. At the eastern and southern corners of the hall of Ictinus are projecting masses of masonry, which may be the foundation for a portico that was to be added; but perhaps they were only buttresses, intended to resist the thrust of the roof of this huge structure, which rested at its northern and western corners against the solid rock of the hill. On the south-east side the hall is faced with a portico, extending its whole width; the marble pavement of this portico is a most conspicuous feature of Eleusis at the present day. The portico was added to the hall by the architect Philo, under Demetrius of Phalerum, about the end of the 4th century B.C. It was never completed, for the fluting of its columns still remains unfinished.
The architectural history of the hall has been traced by Professor W. Dörpfeld with the help of various foundations that have been uncovered. The earliest building on the site is a small rectangular structure with walls made of polygonal masonry, built from the rock quarried on-site. This was followed by a square hall, almost the same layout as the later Telesterion, but about a quarter of its size; its eastern corner lines up with that of the later building, and it seems to have had a portico in front, similar to the later addition seen in the hall. Its roof was supported by columns, of which the bases can still be seen. This building is likely from the time of Peisistratus; it was destroyed by the Persians. Between this event and the construction of the current hall, which is basically the one designed by Ictinus during the time of Pericles, there must have been a restoration, which can be observed in a set of round depressions for columns that appear only in the northeast part of the hall; a different arrangement of bases exists in the southwest part, and it's hard to see how these two systems could work together unless there was some kind of partition between the two sections of the hall. Both sets were removed to make way for the later columns, of which the bases and some of the drums still remain. These later columns are identified through inscriptions and other fragments built into their bases, indicating they belong to later Roman times. At the eastern and southern corners of the hall designed by Ictinus are projecting masses of masonry, which may have served as the foundation for a portico that was supposed to be added; but they might have just been buttresses to support the weight of the roof of this massive structure, which was anchored at its northern and western corners against the solid rock of the hill. On the southeast side, the hall is accompanied by a portico that spans its entire width; the marble pavement of this portico is one of the most noticeable features of Eleusis today. The portico was added to the hall by the architect Philo, under Demetrius of Phalerum, around the end of the 4th century B.C. It was never finished, as the fluting on its columns remains incomplete.
The Telesterion took up the greater part of the sacred precinct, which seems merely to have served to keep the profane away from the temple. The massive walls and towers of the time of Pericles, which resemble those of a fortress, are quite close in on the south and east; later, probably in the 4th century B.C., the precinct was extended farther to the south, and at its end was erected a building of considerable extent, including a curious apsidal chamber, for which a similar but larger curved structure was substituted in Roman times. This was probably the Bouleuterion. The precinct was full of altars, dedications and inscriptions; and many fragments of sculptures, pottery and other antiquities, from the earliest to the latest days of Greece, have been discovered. It is to be noted that the subterranean passages which some earlier explorers imagined to be connected with the celebration of the mysteries, have proved to be nothing but cisterns or watercourses.
The Telesterion occupied most of the sacred area, which seems to have mainly served to keep the uninitiated away from the temple. The massive walls and towers from the time of Pericles, resembling those of a fortress, are located close to the south and east. Later, probably in the 4th century B.C., the precinct was expanded further south, and at its end, a large building was constructed, including a unique apsidal chamber, which was replaced by a similar but larger curved structure in Roman times. This was likely the Bouleuterion. The precinct was filled with altars, dedications, and inscriptions, and many fragments of sculptures, pottery, and other artifacts, ranging from the earliest to the latest periods of Greece, have been discovered. It should be noted that the underground passages that some early explorers thought were linked to the celebration of the mysteries turned out to be nothing more than cisterns or water channels.
The excavations of Eleusis, and the antiquities found in them, have been published from time to time in the Ἐφημερὶς Ἀρχαιολογική and in the Πρακτικά of the Greek Archaeological Society, especially for 1887 and 1895. See also D. Philios, Éleusis, ses mystères, ses ruines, et son musée. Inscriptions have also been published in the Bulletin de correspondance hellénique.
The excavations at Eleusis and the artifacts discovered there have been reported periodically in the Archaeological Journal and in the Practically of the Greek Archaeological Society, particularly for the years 1887 and 1895. Also, see D. Philios, Éleusis, ses mystères, ses ruines, et son musée. Inscriptions have also been published in the Bulletin de correspondance hellénique.
ELEUTHERIUS, pope from about 175 to 189. Allusions to him are found in the letters of the martyrs of Lyons, cited by Eusebius, and in other documents of the time. The Liber Pontificalis, at the beginning of the 6th century, says that he had relations with a British king, Lucius, who was desirous of being converted to Christianity. This tradition—Roman, not British—is an enigma to critics, and, apparently, has no historical foundation.
ELEUTHERIUS, pope from around 175 to 189. References to him can be found in the letters of the martyrs of Lyons, as mentioned by Eusebius, and in other documents from that time. The Liber Pontificalis, written at the start of the 6th century, states that he had associations with a British king, Lucius, who wanted to convert to Christianity. This tradition—Roman, not British—is a mystery to critics and apparently lacks any historical basis.
ELEUTHEROPOLIS (Gr. Ἐλευθέρα πόλις, “free city”), an ancient city of Palestine, 25 m. from Jerusalem on the road to Gaza, identified by E. Robinson with the modern Beit Jibrīn. This identification is confirmed by Roman milestones in the neighbourhood. It represents the Biblical Mareshah, the ruins of which exist at Tell Sandahannah close by. As Betogabra it is mentioned by Ptolemy; the name Eleutheropolis dates from the Syrian visit of Septimius Severus (A.D. 202). Eusebius in his Onomasticon uses it as a central point from which the distances of other towns are measured. It was destroyed in 796, rebuilt by the crusaders in 1134 (their fortress and chapel remain, much ruined). It was finally captured by Bibars, 1244. Beit Jibrīn is in the centre of a district of great archaeological interest. Besides the crusader and other remains in the village itself, the surrounding country possesses many tells (mounds) covering the sites of ancient cities. The famous caves of Beit Jibrīn honeycomb the hills all round. These are immense artificial excavations of unknown date. Roman milestones and aqueducts also are found, and close by the now famous tomb of Apollophanes, with wall-paintings of animals and other ornamentation, was discovered in 1902; a description of it will be found in Thiersch and Peters, The Marissa Tombs, published by the Palestine Exploration Fund.
ELEUTHEROPOLIS (Gr. Free city, “free city”), an ancient city in Palestine, located 25 miles from Jerusalem on the road to Gaza, is identified by E. Robinson as the modern Beit Jibrīn. This identification is confirmed by Roman milestones in the area. It corresponds to the Biblical Mareshah, the ruins of which are found at Tell Sandahannah nearby. It is referred to as Betogabra by Ptolemy; the name Eleutheropolis originated during the Syrian visit of Septimius Severus (CE 202). Eusebius in his Onomasticon uses it as a central point from which the distances to other towns are measured. It was destroyed in 796, rebuilt by the crusaders in 1134 (their fortress and chapel still exist, though in ruins). It was ultimately captured by Bibars in 1244. Beit Jibrīn is located in a region of significant archaeological interest. In addition to the crusader remains and other artifacts within the village, the surrounding area has many tells (mounds) covering the sites of ancient cities. The famous caves of Beit Jibrīn create a labyrinthine network throughout the hills. These are vast artificial excavations of unknown origin. Roman milestones and aqueducts are also present, and near the now-famous tomb of Apollophanes, which features wall paintings of animals and other decorations, was discovered in 1902; a description of it can be found in Thiersch and Peters, The Marissa Tombs, published by the Palestine Exploration Fund.
ELEVATORS, Lifts or Hoists, machines for raising or lowering loads, whether of people or material, from one level to another. They are operated by steam, hydraulic or electric power, or, when small and light, by hand. Their construction varies with the magnitude of the work to be performed and the character of the motive power. In private houses, where only small weights, as coal, food, &c., have to be transferred from one floor to another, they usually consist simply of a small counter-balanced platform suspended from the roof or an upper floor by a tackle, the running part of which hangs from top to bottom and can be reached and operated at any level. In buildings where great weights and numbers of people have to be lifted, or a high speed of elevation is demanded, some form of motor is necessary. This is usually, directly or indirectly, a steam-engine or occasionally a gas-engine; sometimes a water-pressure engine is adopted, and it is becoming more and more common to employ an electric motor deriving its energy from 264 the general distribution of the city. Large establishments, hotels or business houses, commonly have their own source of energy, an electric or other power “plant,” on the premises.
ELEVATORS, Elevators, or Lifts are machines used to raise or lower loads, whether they are people or materials, from one level to another. They can be powered by steam, hydraulics, or electricity, or, if they are small and light, operated manually. Their design varies depending on the load they need to lift and the type of power used. In private homes, where only small weights like coal or food need to be moved between floors, they typically consist of a small counterbalanced platform hanging from the ceiling or an upper floor by a pulley system that can be accessed and used from any level. In buildings where heavy weights and large numbers of people need to be lifted, or when high-speed movement is necessary, a motor is essential. This motor is usually, either directly or indirectly, a steam engine, or sometimes a gas engine; occasionally, a water-pressure engine is used. It is becoming increasingly common to utilize an electric motor powered by the city's general energy supply. Large establishments, hotels, and businesses often have their own energy source, such as an electric or other power "plant," on-site.
![]() |
Fig. 1.—The Plunger, or Direct Lift Hydraulic Engine. |
![]() |
Fig. 2.—The Otis Standard Hydraulic Passenger Lift, with Pilot Valve and Lever-operating Device. |
The hydraulic elevator is the simplest in construction of elevators proper, sometimes consisting merely of a long pipe set deeply in the ground under the cage and containing a correspondingly long plunger, which rises and falls Construction of elevators. as required and carries the elevator-cage on its upper end (fig. 1). The “stroke” is thus necessarily equal to the height traversed by the cage, with some surplus to keep the plunger steady within its guiding-pipe. The pipe or pump chamber has a length exceeding the maximum rise and fall of the plunger, and must be strong enough to sustain safely the heavy hydraulic pressures needed to raise plunger and cage with load. The power is usually supplied by a steam pump (occasionally by a hydraulic motor), which forces water into the chamber of the great pipe as the elevator rises, a waste-cock drawing off the liquid in the process of lowering the cage. A single handle within the cage generally serves to apply the pressure when raising, and to reduce it when lowering the load. The most common form of hydraulic elevator, for important work and under usual conditions of operation, as in cities, consists of a suspended cage, carried by a tackle, the running part of which 265 is connected with a set of pulleys at each end of a frame (fig. 2). The rope is made fast at one end, and its intermediate part is carried round first one pulley at the farther end of the frame and then round another at the nearer end, and so on as often as is found advisable in the particular case. The two pulley shafts carrying these two sets of pulleys are made to traverse the frame in such a way as, by their separation, to haul in on the running part, or, by their approximation, to permit the weight of the cage to haul out the rope. By this alternate hauling and “rendering” of the rope the cage is raised and lowered. The use of a number of parallel and independent sets of pulleys and tackles assures safety in case of the breakage of any one, each being strong enough alone to hold the load. The movement of the pair of pulley shafts is effected by a water-pressure engine, actuating the plunger of a pump which is similar to that used in the preceding apparatus, but being relatively of short stroke and large diameter, is more satisfactory in design and construction as well as in operation. Electricity may be applied to elevators of this type by attaching the travelling sheaves to a nut in which works a screwed shaft driven by an electric motor. In other electric lifts the cables which support the cage are wound on a drum which is turned by a motor, the drum being connected to the motor-shaft either by a series of pinions or by a worm-gear. The drum may also be worked by a steam or gas engine. Where the traffic is not very heavy, a form of elevator that requires no attendant is convenient. In this any one wishing to use the lift has merely to press a button placed by the side of the lift-gate on the floor on which he happens to be standing, when the car will come to him; and having entered it he can cause it to travel to any floor he desires by pressing another button inside the car. The motive power in such cases may be either electric or hydraulic, but the control of the switches or valves that govern the action of the apparatus is electric.
The hydraulic elevator is the simplest type of elevator, sometimes made up of just a long pipe set deep in the ground beneath the cage, containing a long plunger that moves up and down as needed, carrying the elevator cage on its upper end (fig. 1). The “stroke” is equal to the height traveled by the cage, with a bit extra to keep the plunger steady in its guiding pipe. The pipe or pump chamber is longer than the maximum rise and fall of the plunger and must be strong enough to handle the heavy hydraulic pressures required to lift the plunger and cage along with their load. Usually, power comes from a steam pump (sometimes from a hydraulic motor), which pushes water into the chamber of the large pipe as the elevator goes up, while a waste-cock drains the liquid when lowering the cage. A single handle inside the cage typically controls the pressure for raising and lowering the load. The most common type of hydraulic elevator used for significant work in typical city conditions features a suspended cage carried by a tackle. The running part is connected to a set of pulleys at each end of a frame (fig. 2). The rope is secured at one end and its middle section goes around first one pulley at the far end of the frame and then around another at the near end, and this can be repeated as needed for the specific situation. The two pulleys' shafts, which hold these sets of pulleys, move within the frame, pulling the running part in when they separate and allowing the cage's weight to unwind the rope when they come together. By alternating between hauling and letting out the rope, the cage is raised and lowered. Having multiple parallel and independent pulley sets ensures safety in case one fails, as each set is strong enough to hold the load on its own. The movement of the pulleys is powered by a water-pressure engine that drives a plunger pump similar to the one used in the previous apparatus but is designed for a shorter stroke and larger diameter, making it more efficient in design, construction, and operation. Elevators of this type can also use electricity by connecting the traveling sheaves to a nut that works with a screwed shaft driven by an electric motor. In other electric lifts, the cables supporting the cage are wound around a drum turned by a motor, and the drum connects to the motor shaft through a series of pinions or a worm gear. The drum can also be operated by a steam or gas engine. For lower traffic, a type of elevator that doesn’t need an attendant is convenient. In this case, anyone wanting to use the lift just presses a button next to the lift gate on their current floor, and the car will come to them. Once inside, they can choose any floor by pressing another button in the car. The power for these elevators can be electric or hydraulic, but the controls for the switches or valves that regulate the system operate electrically.
The history of the elevator is chronologically extensive, but only since 1850 has rapid or important progress been effected. In that year George H. Fox & Co. built an elevator operated by the motion of a vertical screw, the nut on which carried the cage. This device was used in a number of instances, especially in hotels in the large cities, during the succeeding twenty years, and was then generally supplanted by the hydraulic lift of the kind already described as the plunger-lift. With the increased demand for power, speed, safety, convenience of manipulation, and comfort in operation, the inventive ability of the engineer developed the various systems more and more perfectly, and experience gradually showed to what service each type was best adapted and the best construction of each for its peculiar work. Whatever the class, the following are the essentials of design, Essentials of design, &c. construction and operation: the elevator must be safe, comfortable, speedy and convenient, must not be too expensive in either first cost or maintenance, and must be absolutely trustworthy. It must not be liable to fracture of any element of the hoisting gear that will permit either the fall of the cage or its projection by an overweighted balance upwards against the top of its shaft. It must be possible to stop it, whether in regular working or in emergency, or when accident occurs, with sufficient promptness, yet without endangering life or property, or even very seriously inconveniencing the passengers. Acceleration and retardation in starting and stopping must be smooth and easy, the stop must be capable of being made precisely where and when intended, and no danger must be incurred by the passengers from contact with running parts of the mechanism or with the walls and doors of the elevator shaft.
The history of the elevator is quite long, but significant progress has really only happened since 1850. That year, George H. Fox & Co. created an elevator that operated using a vertical screw, which moved the cage. This design was used in various places, especially in hotels in major cities, for about twenty years, before being mostly replaced by the hydraulic lift known as the plunger-lift. As the demand for power, speed, safety, ease of use, and comfort grew, engineers improved various systems more and more, and experience gradually revealed which type was best suited for each purpose and the best construction for its specific task. Regardless of the type, the following are the key principles of design, Design essentials, etc. construction, and operation: the elevator must be safe, comfortable, fast, and convenient, not too expensive in either initial cost or upkeep, and must be completely reliable. It should not be prone to breaking any part of the hoisting system that could cause the cage to fall or be propelled upwards due to being overloaded. It must be possible to stop it, whether during normal operation or in an emergency, or when an accident occurs, quickly enough to ensure safety without putting lives or property at risk, or causing serious inconvenience to passengers. Starting and stopping must be smooth and easy, the stop must be accurately positioned, and passengers must not be at risk from coming into contact with moving parts of the mechanism or the walls and doors of the elevator shaft.
These requirements have been fully met in the later forms of elevator commonly employed for passenger service. Usual sizes range from loads of 1000 to 5000 ℔ with speeds of from 80 to 250 ft. a minute unloaded, and 75 to 200 ft. loaded, and a height of travel of from 50 to 200 ft. In some very tall buildings, as the Singer and Metropolitan buildings in New York, elevators have been installed having a maximum speed of 600 ft. a minute, with a rise of over 500 ft. Where electric motors are employed, their speed ranges from 600 and 700 revolutions per minute in the larger to 1000 and 1200 in the smaller sizes, corresponding to from 20 down to 4 or 5 h.p. Two or more counter-weights are employed, and from four to six suspension cables ensure as nearly as possible absolute safety. The electric elevators of the Central London railway are guaranteed to raise 17,000 ℔ 65 ft. in some of its shafts, in 30 secs. from start to stop. Over 100,000 ft. of 7⁄8 in. and 17,000 ft. of ¾ in. steel rope are required for its 24 shafts, and each rope can carry from 16 to 22 tons without breaking. The steel used in the cables, of which there are four to six for each car and counter-weight, has a tenacity of 85 to 90 tons per sq. in. of section of wire. The maximum pull on each set of rope is assumed to be not over 9500 ℔, the remainder of the load being taken by the counterbalance. Oil “dash-pots” or buffers, into which enter plungers attached to the bottom of the cage, prevent too sudden a stop in case of accident, and safety-clutches with friction adjustments of ample power and fully tested before use give ample insurance against a fall even if all the cables should yield at once—an almost inconceivable contingency. The efficiency, i.e. the ratio of work performed to power expended in the same time, was in these elevators found by test to be between 70 and 75%.
These requirements have been completely fulfilled in the more advanced types of elevators commonly used for passenger service today. Typical sizes range from 1,000 to 5,000 lbs, with speeds from 80 to 250 feet per minute when unloaded, and 75 to 200 feet when loaded, and a travel height of 50 to 200 feet. In some very tall buildings, like the Singer and Metropolitan buildings in New York, elevators have been installed that can reach a maximum speed of 600 feet per minute, with a rise exceeding 500 feet. When electric motors are used, their speed ranges from 600 to 700 revolutions per minute in the larger models to 1,000 to 1,200 in the smaller ones, corresponding to power from 20 down to 4 or 5 horsepower. Two or more counterweights are used, and four to six suspension cables help ensure maximum safety. The electric elevators of the Central London railway can lift 17,000 lbs 65 feet in some of its shafts, in 30 seconds from start to stop. Over 100,000 feet of 7/8 inch steel rope and 17,000 feet of ¾ inch steel rope are needed for its 24 shafts, with each rope capable of carrying 16 to 22 tons without breaking. The steel used in the cables, which number four to six for each car and counterweight, has a strength of 85 to 90 tons per square inch of wire section. The maximum pull on each set of ropes is assumed to be no more than 9,500 lbs, with the rest of the load being handled by the counterbalance. Oil dash-pots or buffers, with plungers attached to the bottom of the cage, prevent abrupt stops in case of an accident, and safety clutches with friction adjustments of sufficient strength and thoroughly tested before use provide significant protection against a fall, even if all the cables were to fail at once—an almost unimaginable scenario. The efficiency, i.e., the ratio of work performed to power used in the same amount of time, was found to be between 70 and 75% in these elevators.
![]() |
Fig. 3. Safety Air-Cushion. |
Safety devices constitute perhaps the most important of the later improvements in elevator construction where passengers are carried. The simplest and, where practicable, most certain of them is the “air-cushion”, a chamber Safety devices. into which the cage drops if detached or from any cause allowed to fall too rapidly to the bottom, compression of the air bringing it to rest without shock (fig. 3). This chamber must be perfectly air-tight, except in so far as a purposely arranged clearance around the sides, diminishing downwards and in well-established proportion, is adjusted to permit a “dash-pot” action and to prevent rebound. The air-cushion should be about one-tenth the depth of the elevator shaft; in high buildings it may be a well 20 or 30 ft. deep. The Empire building, in New York, is twenty storeys in height, the total travel of the cage is 287 ft., and the air-cushion is 50 ft. deep, extending from the floor of the third storey to the bottom of the shaft. Sliding doors of great strength, and automatic in action, at the first and second floors, are the only openings. The shaft is tapered for some distance below the third floor, and then carried straight to the bottom. An inlet valve admits air freely as the cage rises, and an adjusted safety-valve provides against excess pressure. A “car,” falling freely from the twentieth storey, was checked by this arrangement without injury to a basket of eggs placed on its floor. Other safety devices consist of catches under the floor of the cage, so arranged that they are held out of engagement by the pull on the cables. But if the strain is suddenly relieved, as by breakage of a cable or accident to the engine or motor, they instantly fly into place and, engaging strong side-struts in the shaft, hold the car until it can be once more lifted by its cables. These operate well when the cables part at or near the car, but they are apt to fail if the break occurs on the opposite side of the carrying sheaves at the top of the shaft, since the friction and inertia of the mass of the cables may in that case be sufficient to hold the pawls out of gear either entirely or until the headway is so great as to cause the smashing of all resistances when they do engage.
Safety devices are probably the most important improvements in modern elevator design for passenger transport. The simplest and most reliable of these is the “air-cushion,” a chamber where the elevator car drops if it becomes detached or falls too quickly. The compression of the air in the chamber stops the fall without causing a shock (fig. 3). This chamber needs to be completely airtight, except for a carefully designed clearance around the sides that tapers downwards to allow a “dash-pot” effect and prevent bouncing back. The air-cushion should be about one-tenth the depth of the elevator shaft; in tall buildings, it can be 20 to 30 ft. deep. The Empire State Building in New York is twenty stories high, with a total cage travel of 287 ft., and the air-cushion is 50 ft. deep, stretching from the third floor to the bottom of the shaft. There are only strong, automatic sliding doors on the first and second floors. The shaft narrows for some distance below the third floor before going straight to the bottom. An inlet valve allows air to flow in as the cage rises, and an adjustable safety valve prevents excess pressure. A “car” that fell freely from the twentieth floor was stopped by this system without damaging a basket of eggs placed on its floor. Other safety devices include catches beneath the cage floor, designed to be held out of engagement by the tension on the cables. If the strain suddenly decreases, like with a cable break or an engine failure, these catches spring into action and engage strong side struts in the shaft, holding the car until it can be lifted again by the cables. These devices work well when the cables break near the car, but they can fail if the break occurs on the opposite side of the pulleys at the top of the shaft, as the friction and inertia of the cables may keep the catches disengaged until the fall is fast enough to break everything when they finally do engage.
Another principle employed in safety arrangements is the 266 action of inertia of parts properly formed and attached. Any dangerous acceleration of the cage causes the inertia of these parts to produce a retardation relative to the car which throws into action a brake or a catch, and thus controls the motion within safe limits or breaks the fall. The hydraulic brake has been used in this apparatus, as have mechanical and pneumatic apparatus. This control of the speed of fall is most commonly secured by the employment of a centrifugal or other governor or regulator. The governor may be on the top of the cage and driven by a stationary rope fixed between the top and bottom of the shafts, or it may be placed at the top of the shaft and driven by a rope travelling with the car. Its action is usually to trip into service a set of spring grips or friction clutches, which, as a rule, grasp the guides of the cage and by their immense pressure and great resultant friction bring the cage to rest within a safe limit of speed, time and distance. A coefficient of friction of about 15% is assumed in their design, and this estimate is confirmed by their operation. Pressures of 10 tons or more are sometimes provided in these grips to ensure the friction required. There are many different forms of safety device of these various classes, each maker having his own. The importance of absolute safety against a fall is so great that the best builders are not satisfied with any one form or principle, but combine provisions against every known danger, and often duplicate such precautions against the most common accidents.
Another principle used in safety systems is the 266 inertia of properly designed and attached parts. If the cage accelerates dangerously, the inertia of these parts creates a slowing effect relative to the car, activating a brake or catch that keeps the motion within safe limits or stops the fall. Hydraulic brakes have been used in this system, along with mechanical and pneumatic devices. Controlling the speed of a fall is usually achieved with a centrifugal governor or other types of regulators. The governor can be on top of the cage and driven by a stationary rope stretched between the top and bottom of the shafts or placed at the top of the shaft and driven by a rope that moves with the car. Its typical function is to trigger a set of spring grips or friction clutches that grip the cage's guides. Their significant pressure and friction effectively stop the cage within a safe speed, time, and distance. A friction coefficient of about 15% is generally assumed in their design, and this estimate is validated by their performance. Pressures of 10 tons or more can sometimes be applied in these grips to ensure the necessary friction. There are various types of safety devices in these categories, with each manufacturer having their own designs. Absolute safety against a fall is so crucial that top builders combine multiple methods for every known hazard, often duplicating precautions for the most common accidents.
The “travelling staircase,” which may be classed among the passenger elevators, usually consists of a staircase so constructed that while the passenger is ascending it the whole structure is also ascending at a predetermined rate, so that the progress made is the sum of the two rates of motion. The system of “treads and risers” is carried on a long endless band of chain sustained by guides holding it in its desired line, and rendering at either end over cylinders or sprockets. The junctions between the stairway and the upper or lower floors are ingeniously arranged so as to avoid danger of injury to the passengers.
The "moving staircase," which can be categorized as a type of passenger elevator, typically features a staircase designed to rise at a set speed while passengers climb it, making the overall progress a combination of both movements. The "treads and risers" are mounted on a long continuous chain supported by guides to keep it in line, and it rolls over cylinders or sprockets at both ends. The connections between the staircase and the upper or lower floors are cleverly designed to prevent any risk of injury to passengers.
Freight elevators have the same general forms as the passenger elevators, but are often vastly larger and more powerful, and are not as a rule fitted up for such heights of lift, or constructed with such elaborate provision for safety or with any special finish. Elevators raising grain, coal, earth and similar materials, such as can be taken up by scooping into a bucket, or can be run into and out of the bucket by gravity, constitute a class by themselves, and are described in the article Conveyors.
Freight elevators are generally similar in shape to passenger elevators, but they’re usually much larger and more powerful. Typically, they aren’t designed for extremely high lifts, and they don’t have the same level of safety features or fancy finishes. Elevators that move materials like grain, coal, or dirt—things that can be scooped into a bucket or poured in and out by gravity—are in a category of their own, and you can read more about them in the article Conveyors.
The term “grain elevator” is often used to include buildings as well as machinery, and it is not unusual in Europe to hear a flour-mill, with its system of motor machinery, mills, elevator and storage departments, spoken of as an “American elevator” (see Granaries).
The term “grain elevator” is often used to refer to both buildings and machinery, and it's common in Europe to hear a flour mill, with its system of motorized machinery, mills, elevators, and storage departments, referred to as an “American elevator” (see Granaries).
ELF (O. Eng. aelf; cf. Ger. Alp, nightmare), a diminutive supernatural being of Teutonic mythology, usually of a more or less mischievous and malignant character, causing diseases and evil dreams, stealing children and substituting changelings, and thus somewhat different from the Romanic fairy, which usually has less sinister associations. The prehistoric arrow-heads and other flint implements were in England early known as “elf-bolts” or “elf-arrows,” and were looked on as the weapons of the elves, with which they injured cattle. So too a tangle in the hair was called an “elf-lock,” as being caused by the mischief of the elves.
ELF (Old English aelf; compare German Alp, nightmare), a small supernatural being from Teutonic mythology, usually portrayed as somewhat mischievous or harmful, causing sickness and bad dreams, stealing children and replacing them with changelings, and thus quite different from the romantic fairy, which typically has less sinister connotations. Prehistoric arrowheads and other flint tools were early known in England as “elf-bolts” or “elf-arrows,” thought to be the weapons of the elves, used to harm cattle. Likewise, a tangle in hair was referred to as an “elf-lock,” as it was believed to be caused by the mischief of the elves.
ELGAR, SIR EDWARD (1857- ), English musical composer, son of W.H. Elgar, who was for many years organist in the Roman Catholic church of St George at Worcester, was born there on the 2nd of June 1857. His father’s connexion with music at Worcester, with the Glee Club and with the Three Choirs Festivals, supplied him with varied opportunities for a musical education, and he learnt to play several instruments. In 1879 he became bandmaster at the county lunatic asylum, and held that post till 1884. He was also a member of an orchestra at Birmingham, and in 1883 an intermezzo by him was played there at a concert. In 1882 he became conductor of the Worcester Amateur Instrumental Society; and in 1885 he succeeded his father as organist at St George’s, Worcester. There he wrote a certain amount of church music. In 1889 he moved to London, but finding no encouragement retired to Malvern in 1891; in 1904 he went to live at Hereford, and in 1905 was made professor of music at Birmingham University. To the public generally he was hardly known till his oratorio The Dream of Gerontius was performed at Birmingham in 1900, but this was at once received as a new revelation in English music, both at home and by Richard Strauss in Germany, and the composer was made a Mus. Doc. at Cambridge. His experience in writing church music for a Roman Catholic service cannot be overlooked in regard to this and other works by Elgar, who came to be regarded as the representative of a Catholic or neo-Catholic style of religious music, for which an appreciative public was ready in England at the moment, owing to the recent developments in the more artistic and sensuous side of the religious movement. And the same interest attached to his later oratorios, The Apostles (1903) and The Kingdom (1906). But Elgar’s sudden rise into popularity, confirmed by his being knighted in 1904, drew attention to his other productions. In 1896 his Scenes from the Saga of King Olaf was recognized by musicians as a fine work, and in the same year his Scenes from the Bavarian Highlands and Lux Christi were performed; and apart from other important compositions, his song-cycle Sea-Pictures was sung at Norwich in 1899 by Clara Butt, and his orchestral Variations on an original theme were given at a Richter concert in the same year. In 1901 his popular march “Pomp and Circumstance” was played at a promenade concert, the stirring melody of his song “Land of Hope and Glory” being effectually utilized. It is impossible here to enumerate all Sir Edward Elgar’s works, which have excited a good deal of criticism in musical circles without impairing his general recognition as one of the few front-rank English composers of his day; but his most important later production, his first orchestral symphony, produced in 1908 with immediate success, raised his reputation as a composer to an even higher place, as a work of marked power and beauty, developing the symphonic form with the originality of a real master of his art. In 1908 he resigned his professorship at Birmingham University.
ELGAR, SIR EDWARD (1857- ), an English composer, was born on June 2, 1857, in Worcester, the son of W.H. Elgar, who served as the organist for many years at the Roman Catholic church of St George. His father's involvement in music at Worcester, along with the Glee Club and the Three Choirs Festivals, provided him with various opportunities for a musical education, and he learned to play multiple instruments. In 1879, he became the bandmaster at the county lunatic asylum and held that position until 1884. He was also part of an orchestra in Birmingham, and in 1883, one of his intermezzi was performed at a concert there. In 1882, he took on the role of conductor for the Worcester Amateur Instrumental Society, and in 1885, he succeeded his father as the organist at St George’s, Worcester, where he composed some church music. In 1889, he moved to London but, finding little support, returned to Malvern in 1891. He relocated to Hereford in 1904 and was appointed professor of music at Birmingham University in 1905. He remained relatively unknown to the public until his oratorio The Dream of Gerontius premiered in Birmingham in 1900, which was immediately hailed as a groundbreaking work in English music, both in England and by Richard Strauss in Germany, leading to his being awarded an honorary Mus. Doc. at Cambridge. His background in writing church music for a Roman Catholic service played a significant role in this and other works by Elgar, who became viewed as a representative of a Catholic or neo-Catholic style of religious music, finding a receptive audience in England during a time of growing interest in the more artistic and sensuous aspects of the religious movement. This same enthusiasm also surrounded his later oratorios, The Apostles (1903) and The Kingdom (1906). However, Elgar's rapid rise to fame, further solidified by his knighthood in 1904, led to increased attention on his other works. In 1896, his Scenes from the Saga of King Olaf gained recognition among musicians as an impressive piece, and that same year saw performances of his Scenes from the Bavarian Highlands and Lux Christi. Additionally, his song cycle Sea-Pictures was performed in Norwich in 1899 by Clara Butt, and his orchestral Variations on an Original Theme debuted at a Richter concert in the same year. In 1901, his popular march “Pomp and Circumstance” was played at a promenade concert, effectively utilizing the stirring melody of his song “Land of Hope and Glory.” It’s impossible to list all of Sir Edward Elgar’s works, which have generated considerable debate within musical circles without diminishing his overall status as one of the leading English composers of his time; however, his most significant later work, his first orchestral symphony, was produced in 1908 to immediate acclaim, elevating his reputation even further as a composer of remarkable power and beauty, showcasing the symphonic form with the originality of a true master of his craft. In 1908, he resigned from his professorship at Birmingham University.
ELGIN, a city of Kane county, Illinois, U.S.A., in the N. part of the state, 36 m. N.W. of Chicago. Pop. (1880) 8787; (1890) 17,823; (1900) 22,433, of whom 5419 were foreign-born; (1910 census) 25,976. Elgin is served by the Chicago & North-Western and the Chicago, Milwaukee & St Paul railways, and by interurban electric railways to Chicago, Aurora and Belvidere. The city is the seat of the Northern Illinois hospital for the insane, of the Elgin Academy (chartered 1839; opened 1856), and of St Mary’s Academy (Roman Catholic); and has the Gail Borden public library, with 35,000 volumes in 1908. The city has six public parks, Lord’s Park containing 112, and Wing Park 121 acres. The city is in a fine dairying region and is an important market for butter. Among Elgin’s manufactures are watches and watch-cases, butter and other dairy products, cooperage (especially butter tubs), canned corn, shirts, foundry and machine-shop products, pipe-organs, and caskets and casket trimmings; in 1905 Elgin’s total factory product was valued at $9,349,274. The Elgin National Watch factory, and the Borden milk-condensing works, are famous throughout the United States and beyond. The publishing office of the Dunkers, or German Brethren, is at Elgin; and several popular weeklies with large circulations are published here. A permanent settlement was made as early as 1835, and Elgin was chartered as a city in 1854 and was rechartered in 1880.
ELGIN, is a city in Kane County, Illinois, U.S.A., located in the northern part of the state, 36 miles northwest of Chicago. Population: (1880) 8,787; (1890) 17,823; (1900) 22,433, of which 5,419 were foreign-born; (1910 census) 25,976. Elgin is served by the Chicago & North-Western and Chicago, Milwaukee & St Paul railways, as well as interurban electric railways to Chicago, Aurora, and Belvidere. The city is home to the Northern Illinois Hospital for the Insane, Elgin Academy (chartered in 1839; opened in 1856), and St Mary’s Academy (Roman Catholic). It also boasts the Gail Borden Public Library, which had 35,000 volumes in 1908. The city has six public parks, with Lord’s Park spanning 112 acres and Wing Park covering 121 acres. Elgin is situated in a great dairying area and is a significant market for butter. Among Elgin’s products are watches and watch cases, butter and other dairy items, cooperage (especially butter tubs), canned corn, shirts, foundry and machine-shop goods, pipe organs, and caskets and casket trim; in 1905, Elgin’s total factory output was valued at $9,349,274. The Elgin National Watch Factory and the Borden milk-condensing plant are well-known across the United States and beyond. The publishing office of the Dunkers, or German Brethren, is located in Elgin, and several popular weekly publications with large circulations are printed here. A permanent settlement was established as early as 1835, and Elgin was incorporated as a city in 1854, with rechartering occurring in 1880.
ELGIN, a royal, municipal and police burgh, and county town of Elginshire, Scotland, situated on the Lossie, 5 m. S. of Lossiemouth its port, on the Moray Firth, and 71¼ m. N.W. of Aberdeen, with stations on the Great North of Scotland and Highland railways. Pop. (1901) 8460. It is a place of very considerable antiquity, was created a royal burgh by Alexander I., and received its charter from Alexander II. in 1234. Edward I. stayed at the castle in 1296 and 1303, and it was to blot out the memory of his visit that the building was destroyed immediately after national independence had been reasserted. 267 The hill on which it stood was renamed the Ladyhill, and on the scanty ruins of the castle now stands a monument to the 5th duke of Gordon, consisting of a column surmounted by a statue.
ELGIN, a royal, municipal, and police borough, and the county town of Elginshire, Scotland, is located on the Lossie River, 5 miles south of Lossiemouth, its port on the Moray Firth, and 71¼ miles northwest of Aberdeen, with stations on the Great North of Scotland and Highland railways. Population (1901) was 8,460. It has a rich history, having been established as a royal burgh by Alexander I and receiving its charter from Alexander II in 1234. Edward I stayed at the castle in 1296 and 1303, and it was destroyed right after national independence was restored to erase the memory of his visit. 267 The hill where the castle stood was renamed Ladyhill, and on the scant remains of the castle, there is now a monument to the 5th Duke of Gordon, which features a column topped by a statue.
The burgh has suffered periodically from fire, notably in 1452, when half of it was burnt by the earl of Huntly. Montrose plundered it twice in 1645. In 1746 Prince Charles Edward spent a few days in Thunderton House. His hostess, Mrs Anderson, an ardent Jacobite, kept the sheets in which he slept, and was buried in them on her death, twenty-five years afterwards. For fifty years after this date the place retained the character and traditions of a sleepy cathedral city, but with the approach of the 19th century it was touched by a more modern spirit. As the result much that was picturesque disappeared, but the prosperity of Elgin was increased, so that now, owing to its pleasant situation in “the Garden of Scotland,” its healthy climate, cheap living, and excellent educational facilities, it has become a flourishing community. The centre of interest is the cathedral of Moray, which was founded in 1224, when the church of the Holy Trinity was converted to this use. It was partially burned in 1270 and almost destroyed in 1390 by Alexander Stewart, the Wolf of Badenoch, natural son of Robert II., who had incurred the censure of the Church. In 1402 Alexander, lord of the Isles, set fire to the town, but spared the cathedral for a consideration, in memory of which mercy the Little Cross (so named to distinguish it from the Muckle or Market Cross, restored in 1888) was erected. After these outrages it was practically rebuilt on a scale of grandeur that made it the most magnificent example of church architecture in the north. Its design was that of a Jerusalem cross, with two flanking towers at the east end, two at the west end, and one in the centre, at the intersection of the roofs of the nave and transepts. It measured 282 ft. long from east to west by 120 ft. across the transepts, and consisted of the choir, the gable of which was pierced by two tiers of five lancet windows and the Omega rose window; the north transept, in which the Dunbars were buried, and the south transept, the doorway of which is interesting for its dog’s-tooth ornamentation; and the nave of five aisles. The grand entrance was by the richly carved west door, above which was the Alpha window. The central steeple fell in 1506, but was rebuilt, the new tower with its spire reaching a height of 198 ft. By 1538 the edifice was complete in every part. Though the Reformation left it unscathed, it suffered wanton violence from time to time. By order of the privy council the lead was stripped off the roofs in 1567 and sold to Holland to pay the troops; but the ship conveying the spoils foundered in the North Sea. In 1637 the roof-tree of the choir perished during a gale, and three years later the rich timber screen was demolished. The central tower again collapsed in 1711, after which the edifice was allowed to go to ruin. Its stones were carted away, and the churchyard, overgrown with weeds, became the dumping-ground for rubbish. It lay thus scandalously neglected until 1824, when John Shanks, a “drouthy” cobbler, was appointed keeper. By a species of inspiration this man, hitherto a ne’er-do-well, conceived the notion of restoring the place to order. Undismayed, he attacked the mass of litter and with his own hands removed 3000 barrow-loads. When he died in 1841 he had cleared away all the rubbish, disclosed the original plan, and collected a quantity of fragments. A tablet, let into the wall, contains an epitaph by Lord Cockburn, recording Shanks’s services to the venerable pile, which has since been entrusted to the custody of the commissioners of woods and forests. The chapter-house, to the north-east of the main structure, suffered least of all the buildings, and contains a ’Prentice pillar, of which a similar story is told to that of the ornate column in Roslin chapel. In the lavatory, or vestibule connecting the chapter-house with the choir, Marjory Anderson, a poor half-crazy creature, a soldier’s widow, took up her quarters in 1748. She cradled her son in the piscina and lived on charity. In the course of time the lad joined the army and went to India, where he rose to the rank of major-general and amassed a fortune of £70,000 with which he endowed the Elgin Institution (commonly known as the Anderson Institution) at the east end of High Street, for the education of youth and the support of old age. Within the precincts of the cathedral grounds stood the bishop’s palace (now in ruins), the houses of the dean and archdeacon (now North and South Colleges), and the manses of the canons. Other ecclesiastical buildings were the monasteries of Blackfriars (1230) and Greyfriars (1410) and the preceptory of Maisondieu (1240). They also were permitted to fall into decay, but the 3rd marquess of Bute undertook the restoration of the Greyfriars’ chapel. The parish church, in the Greek style, was built in 1828. Gray’s hospital, at the west end of High Street, was endowed by Dr Alexander Gray (1751-1808), and at the east end stands the Institution, already mentioned, founded by General Andrew Anderson (1746-1822). Other public buildings include the assembly rooms, the town-hall, the museum (in which the antiquities and natural history of the shire are abundantly illustrated), the district asylum, the academy, the county buildings and the court house, the market buildings, the Victoria school of science and art, and Lady Gordon-Cumming’s children’s home. In 1903 Mr G.A. Cooper presented his native town with a public park of 42 acres, containing lakes representing on a miniature scale the British Isles. Grant Lodge, an old mansion of the Grant family, occupying the south-west corner of the park, was converted into the public library. From the top of Ladyhill the view commands the links of the Lossie and the surrounding country, and a recreation ground is laid out on Lossie Green.
The town has experienced fires periodically, especially in 1452 when half of it was burned down by the Earl of Huntly. Montrose raided it twice in 1645. In 1746, Prince Charles Edward spent a few days at Thunderton House. His hostess, Mrs. Anderson, a passionate Jacobite, kept the sheets he slept in and was buried in them twenty-five years later. For the next fifty years, the town kept the character and traditions of a sleepy cathedral city, but as the 19th century approached, it began to embrace a more modern spirit. As a result, much of its picturesque charm disappeared, but Elgin grew more prosperous, becoming a thriving community due to its pleasant location in "the Garden of Scotland," its healthy climate, affordable living, and excellent educational opportunities. The focal point of interest is Moray Cathedral, founded in 1224 when the church of the Holy Trinity was repurposed. It suffered partial destruction in 1270 and was nearly demolished in 1390 by Alexander Stewart, the Wolf of Badenoch, the illegitimate son of Robert II, who had angered the Church. In 1402, Alexander, lord of the Isles, set the town on fire but spared the cathedral for a price, and in memory of this act of mercy, the Little Cross was erected (named to differentiate it from the Muckle or Market Cross, restored in 1888). After these assaults, the cathedral was virtually rebuilt, achieving a grandeur that made it the most magnificent example of church architecture in the north. Its design was modeled after a Jerusalem cross, with two towers at the east end, two at the west end, and one in the center at the intersection of the nave and transepts’ roofs. It measured 282 ft. long from east to west, 120 ft. across the transepts, and included the choir, which had two tiers of five lancet windows and the Omega rose window; the north transept, where the Dunbars were buried; and the south transept, notable for its door's dog’s-tooth ornamentation, along with a five-aisle nave. The grand entrance was through the intricately carved west door, topped by the Alpha window. The central steeple collapsed in 1506 but was rebuilt, with the new tower and spire reaching a height of 198 ft. By 1538, the structure was complete. Although the Reformation spared it from damage, it faced instances of wanton violence over time. Following an order from the privy council, the lead was stripped from the roofs in 1567 and sold to Holland to pay troops; however, the ship carrying the lead sank in the North Sea. In 1637, the roof of the choir was lost during a storm, and three years later, the opulent timber screen was torn down. The central tower fell again in 1711, after which the building was left to deteriorate. Its stones were taken away, and the churchyard, overrun with weeds, became a dumping ground for trash. It remained sadly neglected until 1824 when John Shanks, a “drouthy” cobbler, was appointed keeper. By some miracle, this man, previously a ne’er-do-well, decided to restore the place. Undeterred, he tackled the heaps of garbage and personally cleared away 3,000 barrow-loads. When he died in 1841, he had removed all the debris, revealed the original layout, and gathered many fragments. A tablet set into the wall features an epitaph by Lord Cockburn, acknowledging Shanks’s contributions to the venerable site, which has since been entrusted to the commissioners of woods and forests. The chapter-house to the northeast of the main building suffered the least and contains an 'Apprentice pillar, known for a story similar to that of the ornate column in Roslin chapel. In the vestibule linking the chapter-house with the choir, Marjory Anderson, a poor, half-crazy soldier’s widow, took up residence in 1748. She cradled her son in the piscina and lived on charity. Over time, the boy joined the army and went to India, where he rose to the rank of major-general and amassed a fortune of £70,000, which he used to fund the Elgin Institution (commonly known as the Anderson Institution) at the east end of High Street, for youth education and elderly support. Within the cathedral grounds stood the bishop’s palace (now in ruins), the dean and archdeacon's houses (now North and South Colleges), and the canons’ manses. Other ecclesiastical buildings included the Blackfriars monastery (1230), the Greyfriars monastery (1410), and the Maisondieu preceptory (1240). They also fell into decay, but the 3rd Marquess of Bute took on the restoration of the Greyfriars’ chapel. The parish church, built in the Greek style, was constructed in 1828. Gray’s hospital, located at the west end of High Street, was endowed by Dr. Alexander Gray (1751-1808), while the Institution mentioned earlier stands at the east end, founded by General Andrew Anderson (1746-1822). Other public buildings include the assembly rooms, town hall, museum (which showcases the shire's antiquities and natural history), district asylum, academy, county buildings, courthouse, market buildings, the Victoria School of Science and Art, and Lady Gordon-Cumming’s children’s home. In 1903, Mr. G.A. Cooper donated a 42-acre public park to his hometown, featuring lakes that replicate the British Isles on a smaller scale. Grant Lodge, an old mansion belonging to the Grant family located in the southwest corner of the park, was converted into a public library. From the top of Ladyhill, you can see the links of the Lossie and the surrounding countryside, with a recreation ground laid out on Lossie Green.
The industries include distilling and brewing, nursery gardening, tanning, saw and flour mills, iron-foundries and manufactures of woollens, tweeds and plaiding, and the quarrying of sandstone. Elgin combines with Banff, Cullen, Inverurie, Kintore and Peterhead to return one member to parliament, and the town is controlled by a council with provost and bailies.
The industries include distilling and brewing, nursery gardening, tanning, saw and flour mills, iron foundries, and the manufacturing of wool, tweeds, and plaids, as well as sandstone quarrying. Elgin, along with Banff, Cullen, Inverurie, Kintore, and Peterhead, elects one member to parliament, and the town is governed by a council with a provost and bailies.
Two miles and a half S. by W. of Elgin stands the church of Birnie, with the exception of the church at Mortlach in Banffshire probably the oldest place of public worship in Scotland still in use. It is not later than 1150 and, with its predecessor, was the cathedral of Moray during the rule of the first four bishops; the fourth bishop, Simon de Toeny, an Englishman, was buried in its precincts in 1184. In the church is preserved an old Celtic altar-bell of hammered iron, known as the “Ronnell bell.” Such is the odour of sanctity of this venerable church that there is an old local saying that “to be thrice prayed for in the kirk of Birnie will either mend or end ye.” Six miles to the S.W. of Elgin, charmingly situated in a secluded valley encircled by fir-clad heights, lie the picturesque remains of Pluscarden Priory, a Cistercian house founded by Alexander II. in 1230. The ruins, consisting of tower, choir, chapter-house, refectory and other apartments, are nearly hidden from view by their dense coating of ivy and the fine old trees, including many beautiful examples of copper beech, by which they are surrounded. Its last prior, Alexander Dunbar, died in 1560. The Liber Pluscardensis, a valuable authority on early Scots history, was compiled in the priory by Maurice Buchanan in 1461. The chronicle comes down to the death of James I. The 3rd marquess of Bute acquired the ruins in 1897.
Two and a half miles south by west of Elgin is the church of Birnie, which, except for the church at Mortlach in Banffshire, is probably the oldest place of public worship in Scotland still in use. It dates back to no later than 1150 and, along with its predecessor, served as the cathedral of Moray during the tenure of the first four bishops; the fourth bishop, Simon de Toeny, an Englishman, was buried on-site in 1184. Inside the church is an old Celtic altar-bell made of hammered iron, known as the “Ronnell bell.” The long-standing reputation of this ancient church gives rise to a local saying that “being prayed for three times in the kirk of Birnie will either improve your situation or end it.” Six miles southwest of Elgin, beautifully situated in a secluded valley surrounded by fir-covered hills, are the picturesque ruins of Pluscarden Priory, a Cistercian house founded by Alexander II in 1230. The ruins, which include a tower, choir, chapter house, refectory, and other rooms, are nearly concealed by dense ivy and the majestic old trees surrounding them, featuring many splendid examples of copper beech. Its last prior, Alexander Dunbar, died in 1560. The Liber Pluscardensis, an important resource on early Scottish history, was compiled in the priory by Maurice Buchanan in 1461. The chronicle goes up to the death of James I. The 3rd marquess of Bute acquired the ruins in 1897.
ELGIN AND KINCARDINE, EARLS OF. Thomas Bruce, 7th earl of Elgin (1766-1841), British diplomatist and art collector, was born on the 20th of July 1766, and in 1771 succeeded his brother in the Scottish peerage as the 7th earl of Elgin (cr. 1633), and 11th of Kincardine (cr. 1647). He was educated at Harrow and Westminster, and, after studying for some time at the university of St Andrews, proceeded to the continent, where he studied international law at Paris, and military science in Germany. When his education was completed he entered the army, in which he rose to the rank of general. His chief attention was, however, devoted to diplomacy. In 1792 he was appointed envoy at Brussels, and in 1795 envoy extraordinary at Berlin; and from 1799 to 1802 he was envoy extraordinary at the Porte. It was during his stay at Constantinople that he formed the purpose of removing from Athens the celebrated sculptures now known as the Elgin Marbles. His doing so was censured by some as vandalism, and doubts were also expressed as to the artistic value of many of the marbles; but he vindicated himself 268 in a pamphlet published in 1810, and entitled Memorandum on the Subject of the Earl of Elgin’s Pursuits in Greece. In 1816 the collection was purchased by the nation for £36,000, and placed in the British Museum, the outlay incurred by Lord Elgin having been more than £50,000. Lord Elgin was a Scottish representative peer for fifty years. He died at Paris on the 14th of November 1841.
ELGIN AND KINCARDINE, EARLS OF. Thomas Bruce, 7th earl of Elgin (1766-1841), British diplomat and art collector, was born on July 20, 1766, and in 1771 took over the Scottish peerage as the 7th earl of Elgin (cr. 1633) and 11th of Kincardine (cr. 1647) after his brother passed away. He was educated at Harrow and Westminster, and after studying for a while at the University of St Andrews, he went to the continent, where he studied international law in Paris and military science in Germany. Once his education was finished, he joined the army, where he eventually became a general. However, he mostly focused on diplomacy. In 1792, he was appointed envoy in Brussels, and in 1795 he became envoy extraordinary in Berlin; from 1799 to 1802, he served as envoy extraordinary at the Porte. While he was in Constantinople, he decided to take the famous sculptures now known as the Elgin Marbles from Athens. Some criticized this act as vandalism and questioned the artistic value of many of the marbles; however, he defended his actions in a pamphlet published in 1810, titled Memorandum on the Subject of the Earl of Elgin’s Pursuits in Greece. In 1816, the collection was bought by the nation for £36,000 and placed in the British Museum, despite Lord Elgin having spent over £50,000 on it. Lord Elgin was a Scottish representative peer for fifty years. He died in Paris on November 14, 1841.
James Bruce, 8th earl of Elgin (1811-1863), British statesman, eldest son of the 7th earl by his second marriage, was born in 1811, and succeeded to the peerage as 8th earl of Elgin and 12th of Kincardine in 1841. He was educated at Eton and at Christ Church, Oxford, where he had as companions and rivals his younger predecessors in the office of governor-general of India, Dalhousie and Canning. He began his official career in 1842 at the age of thirty, as governor of Jamaica. During an administration of four years he succeeded in winning the respect of all classes. He improved the condition of the negroes and conciliated the planters by working through them. In 1846 Lord Grey appointed him governor-general of Canada. Son-in-law of the popular earl of Durham, he was well received by the colonists, and he set himself deliberately to carry out the Durham policy. In this his frank and genial manners aided him powerfully. His assent to the local measure for indemnifying those who had suffered in the troubles of 1837 led the mob of Montreal to pelt his carriage for the rewarding of rebels for rebellion, as Mr Gladstone described it. But long before his eight years’ term of service expired he was the most popular man in Canada. His relations with the United States, his hearty support of the self-government and defence of the colony, and his settlement of the free-trade and fishery questions, led to his being raised in 1849 to the British peerage as Baron Elgin.
James Bruce, 8th Earl of Elgin (1811-1863), was a British statesman and the eldest son of the 7th earl from his second marriage. Born in 1811, he took on the titles of 8th Earl of Elgin and 12th of Kincardine in 1841. He was educated at Eton and Christ Church, Oxford, where he had as peers and competitors his younger predecessors in the role of Governor-General of India, Dalhousie and Canning. He began his official career in 1842 at the age of thirty as the governor of Jamaica. During his four-year administration, he earned the respect of all social classes. He improved the conditions for the Black population and gained the trust of the planters by working collaboratively with them. In 1846, Lord Grey appointed him Governor-General of Canada. As the son-in-law of the popular Earl of Durham, he was welcomed by the colonists and actively pursued the Durham policy. His open and friendly demeanor greatly assisted him in this. His agreement to a local measure for compensating those affected by the troubles of 1837 resulted in a mob in Montreal throwing objects at his carriage for what Mr. Gladstone described as rewarding rebels for their rebellion. However, well before his eight-year term ended, he became the most popular person in Canada. His relations with the United States, his strong support for self-government and the defense of the colony, and his handling of free trade and fishery issues led to his elevation in 1849 to the British peerage as Baron Elgin.
Soon after his return to England in 1854, Lord Palmerston offered him a seat in the cabinet as chancellor of the duchy of Lancaster, which he declined. But when, in 1856 the seizure of the “Arrow” by Commissioner Yeh plunged England into war with China, he at once accepted the appointment of special envoy with the expedition. On reaching Point de Galle he was met by a force summoned from Bombay to Calcutta by the news of the sepoy mutiny at Meerut on the 11th of May. His first idea, that the somewhat meagre intelligence would justify most energetic action in China, was at once changed when urgent letters from Lord Canning reached him at Singapore, the next port, on the 3rd of June. H.M.S. “Shannon” was at once sent on to Calcutta with the troops destined for China, and Lord Elgin himself followed it, when gloomier letters from India reached him. The arrival of the “Shannon” gave new life to the handful of white men fighting for civilization against fearful odds, and before the reinforcements from England arrived the back of the mutiny had been broken. Nor was the position in China seriously affected by the want of the troops. Lord Elgin sent in his ultimatum to Commissioner Yeh at Canton on the same day, the 12th of December, that he learned the relief of Lucknow, and he soon after sent Yeh a prisoner to Calcutta. By July 1858, after months of Chinese deception, he was able to leave the Gulf of Pechili with the emperor’s assent to the Treaty of Tientsin. Subsequently he visited Japan, and obtained less considerable concessions from its government in the Treaty of Yeddo. It is true that the negotiations were confined to the really subordinate Tycoon or Shogun, but that visit proved the beginning of British influence in the most progressive country of Asia. Unfortunately, the Chinese difficulty was not yet at an end. After tedious disputes with the tariff commissioners as to the opium duty, and a visit to the upper waters of the Yang-tzse, Lord Elgin had reached England in May 1859. But when his brother and the allied forces attempted to proceed to Peking with the ratified treaty, they were fired on from the Taku forts at the mouth of the Peiho. The Chinese had resolved to try the fortune of war once more, and Lord Russell again sent out Lord Elgin as ambassador extraordinary to demand an apology for the attack, the execution of the treaty, and an indemnity for the military and naval expenditure. Sir Robert Napier (afterwards Lord Napier of Magdala) and Sir Hope Grant, with the French, so effectually routed the Tatar troops and sacked the Summer Palace that by the 24th of October 1860 a convention was concluded which was “entirely satisfactory to Her Majesty’s government.” Lord Elgin had not been a month at home when Lord Palmerston selected him to be viceroy and governor-general of India. He had now attained the object of his honourable ambition, after the office had been filled in most critical times by his juniors and old college companions, the marquis of Dalhousie and Earl Canning. He succeeded a statesman who had done much to reorganize the whole administration of India, shattered as it had been by the mutiny. But, as the first viceroy directly appointed by the Crown, and as subject to the secretary of state for India, Lord Elgin at once gave up all Lord Canning had fought for, in the co-ordinate independence, or rather the stimulating responsibility, of the governor-general, which had prevailed from the days of Clive and Warren Hastings. On the other hand, he loyally carried out the wise and equitable policy of his predecessor towards our feudatories with a firmness and a dignity that in the case of Holkar and Udaipur had a good effect. He did his best to check the aggression of the Dutch in Sumatra, which was contrary to treaty, and he supported Dost Mahommed in Kabul until that aged warrior entered the then neutral and disputed territory of Herat. Determined to maintain inviolate the integrity of our own north-west frontier, Lord Elgin assembled a camp of exercise at Lahore, and marched a force to the Peshawar border to punish those branches of the Yusufzai tribe who had violated the engagements of 1858.
Soon after returning to England in 1854, Lord Palmerston offered him a cabinet position as Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, which he turned down. However, when the seizure of the “Arrow” by Commissioner Yeh led England into war with China in 1856, he quickly accepted the role of special envoy with the expedition. Upon arriving at Point de Galle, he was greeted by a force that had been called from Bombay to Calcutta due to the sepoy mutiny in Meerut on May 11. His initial thought that the limited information warranted strong action in China quickly changed after he received urgent letters from Lord Canning at Singapore, the next port, on June 3. The H.M.S. “Shannon” was immediately dispatched to Calcutta with the troops headed for China, and Lord Elgin followed shortly thereafter when darker news from India arrived. The arrival of the “Shannon” revitalized the small group of white men fighting for civilization despite overwhelming odds, and before reinforcements from England arrived, the bulk of the mutiny had been quelled. The troop shortage did not significantly impact the situation in China. Lord Elgin delivered his ultimatum to Commissioner Yeh in Canton on the same day, December 12, that he learned of the relief of Lucknow, and soon after sent Yeh as a prisoner to Calcutta. By July 1858, after enduring months of Chinese deception, he was able to leave the Gulf of Pechili with the emperor’s agreement to the Treaty of Tientsin. He later visited Japan and secured less significant concessions from its government in the Treaty of Yeddo. Although the negotiations were limited to the subordinate Tycoon or Shogun, that visit marked the start of British influence in Asia's most progressive nation. Unfortunately, the issues with China weren’t resolved yet. After protracted disputes over the opium tariff and a trip to the upper waters of the Yang-tze, Lord Elgin reached England in May 1859. However, when his brother and the allied forces tried to advance to Peking with the ratified treaty, they were fired upon from the Taku forts at the Peiho’s mouth. The Chinese decided to test their luck in battle once again, and Lord Russell sent Lord Elgin back as an extraordinary ambassador to demand an apology for the attack, enforcement of the treaty, and compensation for military and naval expenses. Sir Robert Napier (later Lord Napier of Magdala) and Sir Hope Grant, along with the French forces, effectively defeated the Tatar troops and sacked the Summer Palace. By October 24, 1860, a convention was reached that was “entirely satisfactory to Her Majesty’s government.” Lord Elgin hadn’t even been home for a month when Lord Palmerston chose him to become viceroy and governor-general of India. He had finally achieved his goal of honorable ambition, following a position that had been held in critical times by his juniors and old college friends, the marquis of Dalhousie and Earl Canning. He took over from a statesman who had significantly reorganized the entire administration of India, which had been devastated by the mutiny. However, as the first viceroy directly appointed by the Crown and subject to the Secretary of State for India, Lord Elgin quickly abandoned all that Lord Canning had fought for regarding the equal independence, or rather stimulating responsibility, of the governor-general, which had existed since the times of Clive and Warren Hastings. On the other hand, he faithfully implemented the wise and fair policies of his predecessor toward our vassals with a firmness and dignity that positively impacted Holkar and Udaipur. He did his utmost to hinder the Dutch's aggression in Sumatra, which violated treaties, and he supported Dost Mahommed in Kabul until that elderly warrior entered the then neutral and disputed territory of Herat. Determined to preserve the integrity of our north-west frontier, Lord Elgin gathered a training camp at Lahore and marched a force to the Peshawar border to punish those segments of the Yusufzai tribe that had breached the agreements of 1858.
It was in the midst of this “little war” that he died. Soon after his arrival at Calcutta, he had projected the usual tour to Simla, to be followed by an inspection of the Punjab and its warlike ring-fence of Pathans. He even contemplated the summoning of the central legislative council at Lahore. After passing the summer of 1863 in the cool retreat of Peterhoff, Simla, Lord Elgin began a march across the hills from Simla to Sialkot by the upper valleys of the Beas, the Ravi and the Chenab, chiefly to decide the two allied questions of tea cultivation and trade routes to Kashgar and Tibet. The climbing up to the Rotung Pass (13,000 ft.) which separates the Beas valley from that of the Chenab, and the crossing of the frail twig bridge across the Chundra torrent, prostrated him by the time he had descended into the smiling English-like Kangra valley. Thence he wrote his last letter to Sir Charles Wood, still full of hope and not free from anxiety as to the Sittana expedition. At the lovely hill station of Dharmsala, “the place of piety,” he died of fatty degeneration of heart on the 20th of November 1863.
It was during this “little war” that he passed away. Shortly after arriving in Calcutta, he had planned the usual trip to Simla, followed by an inspection of the Punjab and its warlike ring of Pathans. He even thought about calling the central legislative council in Lahore. After spending the summer of 1863 in the cool retreat of Peterhoff, Simla, Lord Elgin started a journey across the hills from Simla to Sialkot through the upper valleys of the Beas, Ravi, and Chenab, mainly to address the two related issues of tea cultivation and trade routes to Kashgar and Tibet. The trek up to the Rotung Pass (13,000 ft.), which separates the Beas valley from the Chenab valley, and crossing the fragile twig bridge over the Chundra torrent exhausted him by the time he reached the picturesque, English-like Kangra valley. From there, he wrote his last letter to Sir Charles Wood, still filled with hope but also anxious about the Sittana expedition. At the beautiful hill station of Dharmsala, “the place of piety,” he died from fatty degeneration of the heart on November 20, 1863.
For his whole career see Letters and Journals of James, Eighth Earl of Elgin, edited by Walrond, but corrected by his brother-in-law, Dean Stanley; for the China missions see Narrative of the Earl of Elgin’s Mission to China and Japan, by Laurence Oliphant, his private secretary; for the brief Indian administration see the Friend of India for 1862-1863.
For his entire career, check out Letters and Journals of James, Eighth Earl of Elgin, edited by Walrond but revised by his brother-in-law, Dean Stanley; for details on the China missions, refer to Narrative of the Earl of Elgin’s Mission to China and Japan, by Laurence Oliphant, his private secretary; for a summary of his short time in Indian administration, look at the Friend of India for 1862-1863.
Victor Alexander Bruce, 9th earl of Elgin (1849- ), British statesman, was born on the 16th of May 1849, the son of the 8th earl, and was educated at Eton and Balliol College, Oxford. In 1863 he succeeded as 9th earl of Elgin and 13th of Kincardine. A Liberal in politics, he became first commissioner of works (1886), and subsequently viceroy of India (1894-1899). His administration in India was chiefly notable for the frontier risings of 1897-1898. The Afridis broke out into a fanatical revolt and through hesitation on the part of the government were allowed to seize the Khyber Pass, necessitating the Tirah Expedition. After his return to England he was nominated chairman of the royal commission to investigate the conduct of the South African War; and on the formation of Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman’s ministry in December 1905, he became a member of the cabinet as secretary of state for the colonies. In this capacity, though he showed many statesmanlike qualities, he was somewhat overshadowed by his brilliant under-secretary in the Commons, Mr Winston Churchill, whose speeches on colonial affairs were as aggressive as Lord Elgin’s were cautious; and when in April 1908, Mr Asquith became prime minister, Lord Elgin retired from the cabinet.
Victor Alexander Bruce, 9th Earl of Elgin (1849- ), was a British statesman born on May 16, 1849, the son of the 8th Earl. He was educated at Eton and Balliol College, Oxford. In 1863, he became the 9th Earl of Elgin and the 13th of Kincardine. A Liberal politician, he became the first Commissioner of Works in 1886 and later served as Viceroy of India from 1894 to 1899. His time in India is mainly remembered for the frontier uprisings of 1897-1898. The Afridis launched a fanatical revolt, and due to hesitations by the government, they managed to take control of the Khyber Pass, leading to the Tirah Expedition. After returning to England, he was appointed chairman of the royal commission to investigate the South African War's conduct. When Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman’s government formed in December 1905, he joined the cabinet as Secretary of State for the Colonies. Although he displayed many qualities of a statesman, he was somewhat overshadowed by his impressive under-secretary in the Commons, Mr. Winston Churchill, whose speeches on colonial matters were bold, while Lord Elgin’s were more measured. When Mr. Asquith became prime minister in April 1908, Lord Elgin stepped down from the cabinet.
ELGINSHIRE, or Moray (Gaelic “among the seaboard men”), a northern county of Scotland, bounded N. by the Moray Firth, E. and S.E. by Banffshire, S. and S.W. by Inverness and W. by Nairnshire. It comprises only the eastern portion of the ancient province of Moray, which extended from the Spey to the Beauly and from the Grampians to the sea, embracing an area of about 3900 sq. m. The area of the county is 305,119 acres, or 477 sq. m.
ELGINSHIRE, or Moray (from Gaelic meaning “among the seaboard men”), is a northern county in Scotland. It's bordered to the north by the Moray Firth, to the east and southeast by Banffshire, to the south and southwest by Inverness, and to the west by Nairnshire. This county includes only the eastern part of the ancient province of Moray, which stretched from the Spey to the Beauly and from the Grampians to the sea, covering an area of about 3,900 square miles. The county itself covers 305,119 acres, or 477 square miles.
Elginshire is naturally divided into two sections, the level and fertile coast and its hinterland—“the Laigh o’ Moray,” a tract 30 m. long by from 5 to 12 m. broad—and the hilly country in the south. There are, however, no high mountains. Carn Ruigh (1784 ft.), Larig Hill (1783) and Carn Kitty (1711) are the chief eminences in the south-central district until the ridge of the Cromdale Hills is reached on the Banffshire border, where the highest point is 2329 ft. above the sea. The two most important rivers, the Spey (q.v.) and the Findhorn, both have their sources in Inverness-shire. About 50 m. of the course of the Spey are in Elginshire, to which it may be roughly said to serve as the boundary line on the south-east and east. The Findhorn rises in the Monadliadh Mountains which form the watershed for several miles between it and the Spey. Of its total course of nearly 70 m. only the last 12 are in the county, where it separates the woods of Altyre from the Forest of Darnaway, before entering the Moray Firth in a bay on the north-eastern shore to which it has given its name. During the first 7 m. of its flow in Elginshire the stream passes through some of the finest scenery in Scotland. It is liable to sudden risings, and in the memorable Moray floods of August 1829 wrought the greatest havoc. Of other rivers the Lossie rises in the small lakes on the flanks of Carn Kitty and pursues a very winding course of 34 m. till it reaches the Moray Firth; Ballintomb Burn, Rothes Burn and Tulchan Burn are left-hand affluents of the Spey; the Dorbock and Divie, uniting their forces near Dunphail House, join the Findhorn at Relugas; and Muckle Water, a left-hand tributary of the Findhorn, comes from Nairnshire. The Spey and Findhorn are famous for salmon, but some of the smaller streams, too, afford good sport. The lochs are few and unimportant, among them being Loch Spynie, 2½ m. N., and Loch-na-Bo, 4 m. S.E. of Elgin; Loch of Blairs, 2½ m. S. of Forres; Loch Romach, 3 m. S. of Rafford; Loch Dallas, about 4 m. S.W. of Dallas, and Lochindorb in the S.W., 6 m. N.N.W. of Grantown. Loch Spynie was once a lake extending from the Firth to within 2½ m. of Elgin and covering an area of over 2000 acres. Its shores were the haunt of a great variety of birds, and its waters were full of salmon, sea-trout and pike. But early in the 19th century it was resolved to reclaim the land, and the drainage works then undertaken reduced the beautiful loch to a swamp of some 120 acres.
Elginshire is naturally divided into two areas: the flat and fertile coast and its inland region—“the Laigh o’ Moray,” which is about 30 miles long and between 5 to 12 miles wide—and the hilly area in the south. However, there are no high mountains. Carn Ruigh (1784 ft.), Larig Hill (1783 ft.), and Carn Kitty (1711 ft.) are the main elevations in the south-central part until you reach the ridge of the Cromdale Hills on the Banffshire border, where the highest point reaches 2329 ft. above sea level. The two most significant rivers, the Spey (q.v.) and the Findhorn, both originate in Inverness-shire. Roughly 50 miles of the Spey's course runs through Elginshire, which it roughly defines as the boundary on the southeast and east. The Findhorn starts in the Monadliadh Mountains, which serve as the watershed for several miles between it and the Spey. Of its total length of nearly 70 miles, only the last 12 are within the county, where it separates the woods of Altyre from the Darnaway Forest before flowing into the Moray Firth in a bay on the northeastern shore that shares its name. During its first 7 miles in Elginshire, the river flows through some of the most stunning scenery in Scotland. It is prone to sudden floods, which caused significant destruction during the memorable Moray floods of August 1829. Other rivers include the Lossie, which rises in small lakes on the slopes of Carn Kitty and takes a winding path of 34 miles before reaching the Moray Firth; Ballintomb Burn, Rothes Burn, and Tulchan Burn are left-hand tributaries of the Spey; the Dorbock and Divie, which meet near Dunphail House, join the Findhorn at Relugas; and Muckle Water, a left-hand tributary of the Findhorn, flows from Nairnshire. The Spey and Findhorn are famous for salmon, but some of the smaller streams also provide good fishing. The area has a few unimportant lochs, including Loch Spynie, 2½ miles north, and Loch-na-Bo, 4 miles southeast of Elgin; Loch of Blairs, 2½ miles south of Forres; Loch Romach, 3 miles south of Rafford; Loch Dallas, about 4 miles southwest of Dallas; and Lochindorb in the southwest, 6 miles north-northwest of Grantown. Loch Spynie was once a lake that stretched from the Firth to within 2½ miles of Elgin, covering over 2000 acres. Its shores were home to a wide variety of birds, and its waters teemed with salmon, sea-trout, and pike. However, in the early 19th century, it was decided to reclaim the land, and the drainage work carried out reduced the beautiful loch to a swamp of about 120 acres.
Lochindorb is now the largest lake, being 2 m. in length and fully ½ m. wide. In the upper end, on an island believed to be artificial, stand the ruins of Lochindorb Castle, in the 14th century the stronghold of the Wolf of Badenoch, and afterwards successively the property of the earl of Moray, the Campbells of Cawdor and the earl of Seafield. Sir Thomas Dick Lauder saw at Cawdor Castle a massive iron gate which, according to tradition, Sir Donald Campbell of Cawdor carried on his back from Lochindorb to Cawdor, a distance of 13 m. In the southern half of the county, amongst the hills, are several glens, among them the Glen of Rothes, Glen Lossie, Glen Gheallaidh, Glen Tulchan and Glen Beag. Strathspey, though more of a valley than a glen, is remarkable for its extent and beauty.
Lochindorb is now the largest lake, measuring 2 meters long and about ½ meter wide. At the upper end, on what is believed to be an artificial island, stand the ruins of Lochindorb Castle, which was the stronghold of the Wolf of Badenoch in the 14th century. It later became the property of the Earl of Moray, the Campbells of Cawdor, and the Earl of Seafield. Sir Thomas Dick Lauder saw a massive iron gate at Cawdor Castle, which, according to legend, Sir Donald Campbell of Cawdor carried on his back from Lochindorb to Cawdor, a distance of 13 meters. In the southern part of the county, among the hills, there are several glens, including Glen of Rothes, Glen Lossie, Glen Gheallaidh, Glen Tulchan, and Glen Beag. Strathspey, while more of a valley than a glen, is notable for its vastness and beauty.
Geology.—This county may be divided geologically into two areas, the hilly region to the south being composed of the crystalline schists of the Central Highlands and the fertile plain of Moray being made up of Old Red Sandstone and Triassic strata. In the Cromdale Hills in the south-east of the county the metamorphic series comprises schistose quartzite, quartz-schists, micaceous flagstones and mica-schists, which are granulitic and holocrystalline, the dark laminae in some cases containing heavy residues such as ilmenite and zircon. The greater portion of the metamorphic area west of the Spey consists of granulitic quartz-biotite-granulites and bands of muscovite-biotite-schist belonging to the Moine series of the Geological Survey (see Scotland: Geology). In certain areas these are permeated by granitic material in the form of thin strings, knots and veins. Excellent sections of these rocks are exposed in the Findhorn, the Divie and the tributaries of the Spey. Near Grantown there is a group locally developed, comprising crystalline limestone with tremolite, kyanite gneiss, muscovite-biotite-schist and quartzite, the age and relations of which are still uncertain. The general strike of the crystalline schists, save where there are local deflections, is north-east and south-west, and the general dip is to the south-east. Between Lochindorb and Grantown there is a mass of granite belonging to the later intrusions of the Highlands represented by the Cairngorm granite. Within the county there are representatives of the middle and upper divisions of the Old Red Sandstone resting unconformably on the crystalline schists. The strata of the middle or Orcadian series consist of conglomerates, sandstones, shales and clays, with limestone nodules containing fish remains. This sequence is well displayed in the banks of the Spey north of Boat of Bridge and in the Tynet Burn east of Fochabers, the latter being one of the well-known localities for ichthyolites in the middle or Orcadian division. In the Tynet and Gollachie Burn sections, the fish bed is overlaid by conglomerates and red pebbly sandstones, passing upwards into a thin zone of andesite lavas, indicating contemporaneous volcanic action. West of the Tynet Burn and Spey sections there is no trace of the members of the Orcadian division till we reach the Muckle Burn and Lethen Bar in Nairnshire, save the coarse conglomerate filling the ancient hollow of the valley of Rothes which may belong to the middle series. In that direction they are overlapped by the Upper Old Red Sandstone, which in the river Lossie, in the Lochty Burn and the Findhorn rest directly on the metamorphic rocks. Even to the south of the main boundary of the upper division there are small outliers of that series resting on the crystalline schists. Hence there must be a discordance between the Middle and Upper Old Red Sandstone in this county. The strata of the upper division consist of red, grey and yellow false-bedded sandstones with conglomeratic bands, which are well seen in the Findhorn between Sluie and Cothall, where they are associated with a bed of cornstone, all dipping to the N.N.W. at gentle angles. South of Elgin they are exposed in the Lossie and at Scaat Craig, while to the north of that town they extend along the ridge from Bishopmill to Alves. By means of the fish remains, which occur at Scaat Craig, in the Bishopmill quarries, at Alves, in the Findhorn cliffs and in the Whitemyre quarry on the Muckle Burn, the Upper Old Red Sandstone in this county is arranged in two groups, the Alves and Rosebrae. In the area lying to the north of the Upper Old Red Sandstone ridge at Bishopmill and Quarrywood, the strata of Triassic age occur, where they consist of pale grey and yellow sandstones and a peculiar cherty and calcareous band, known as the cherty rock of Stotfield. The sandstones are visible in quarries on the north slope of Quarry Wood, at Findrassie, at Spynie and along the ridge and sea-shore between Burghead and Lossiemouth. They are invested with special interest on account of the remarkable series of reptilian remains obtained from them, comprising Stagonolepis, a crocodile allied to the modern caiman in form; Telerpeton and Hyperodapedon, species of lizards; Dicynodonts (Gordonia and Geikia) and a horned reptile, Elginia mirabilis (see Scotland: Geology). The palaeontological evidence points to the conclusion that these reptiliferous sandstones must belong in part to the Trias, indeed it is possible that the lower portion may be of Permian age. In the Cutties Hillock quarry west of Elgin these reptiliferous beds rest directly on the sandstones containing Holoptychius of Upper Old Red Sandstone age, so that the apparent conformability must be entirely deceptive. Within the area occupied by the Trias west of Stotfield, flagstones appear, charged with fish scales of Upper Old Red age, where they form a low ridge protruding through the younger strata. Both the Upper Old Red and Triassic sandstones have been largely quarried for building purposes. On the shore at Lossiemouth there is a patch of greenish white sandstones yielding fossils characteristic of the Lower Oolite.
Geology.—This county can be split geologically into two areas: the hilly region to the south, which consists of the crystalline schists of the Central Highlands, and the fertile Moray plain, made up of Old Red Sandstone and Triassic layers. In the Cromdale Hills in the southeast of the county, the metamorphic series includes schistose quartzite, quartz-schists, micaceous flagstones, and mica-schists, which are granular and holocrystalline. In some cases, the dark layers contain heavy residues like ilmenite and zircon. The majority of the metamorphic area west of the Spey is made up of granulitic quartz-biotite-granulites and bands of muscovite-biotite-schist, part of the Moine series of the Geological Survey (see Scotland: Geology). In some areas, these are mixed with granitic material appearing as thin strands, knots, and veins. Excellent examples of these rocks can be found along the Findhorn, the Divie, and the tributaries of the Spey. Near Grantown, there's a locally developed group that includes crystalline limestone with tremolite, kyanite gneiss, muscovite-biotite-schist, and quartzite, whose age and relationships are still not clear. Generally, the crystalline schists strike northeast to southwest, with a dip toward the southeast. Between Lochindorb and Grantown, there is a mass of granite from the later intrusions of the Highlands, represented by the Cairngorm granite. Within the county, there are representatives of the middle and upper divisions of the Old Red Sandstone, resting unconformably on the crystalline schists. The strata of the middle or Orcadian series consist of conglomerates, sandstones, shales, and clays, with limestone nodules containing fish remains. This sequence is well displayed along the banks of the Spey north of Boat of Bridge and in the Tynet Burn east of Fochabers, the latter being one of the well-known locations for ichthyolites in the middle or Orcadian division. In the Tynet and Gollachie Burn sections, the fish bed is covered by conglomerates and red pebbly sandstones, transitioning upward into a thin layer of andesite lavas, indicating simultaneous volcanic activity. West of the Tynet Burn and Spey sections, there are no traces of the Orcadian division until reaching the Muckle Burn and Lethen Bar in Nairnshire, except for the coarse conglomerate filling the ancient hollow of the valley of Rothes, which may belong to the middle series. In that direction, they are overlapped by the Upper Old Red Sandstone, which in the river Lossie, the Lochty Burn, and the Findhorn rests directly on the metamorphic rocks. Even south of the main boundary of the upper division, there are small outliers of that series resting on the crystalline schists. Thus, there must be a discordance between the Middle and Upper Old Red Sandstone in this county. The strata of the upper division consist of red, grey, and yellow false-bedded sandstones with conglomerate bands, which are well visible in the Findhorn between Sluie and Cothall, where they are associated with a layer of cornstone, all dipping gently to the N.N.W. South of Elgin, they are present in the Lossie and at Scaat Craig, while north of that town, they extend along the ridge from Bishopmill to Alves. Through the fish remains found at Scaat Craig, in the Bishopmill quarries, at Alves, in the Findhorn cliffs, and in the Whitemyre quarry on the Muckle Burn, the Upper Old Red Sandstone in this county is divided into two groups: the Alves and Rosebrae. In the area north of the Upper Old Red Sandstone ridge at Bishopmill and Quarrywood, Triassic-aged strata occur, consisting of pale grey and yellow sandstones and a unique cherty and calcareous band known as the cherty rock of Stotfield. The sandstones can be seen in quarries on the north slope of Quarry Wood, at Findrassie, at Spynie, and along the ridge and seashore between Burghead and Lossiemouth. They are particularly interesting due to the remarkable series of reptilian remains extracted from them, including Stagonolepis, a crocodile related to modern caimans; Telerpeton and Hyperodapedon, species of lizards; Dicynodonts (Gordonia and Geikia); and a horned reptile, Elginia mirabilis (see Scotland: Geology). The fossil evidence suggests that these reptile-rich sandstones must partly belong to the Triassic, and it’s likely that the lower portion could be of Permian age. In the Cutties Hillock quarry west of Elgin, these reptile-bearing beds rest directly on the sandstones containing Holoptychius of Upper Old Red Sandstone age, indicating that the apparent conformity must be entirely misleading. Within the Triassic area west of Stotfield, flagstones can be found filled with fish scales from the Upper Old Red, forming a low ridge that protrudes through the younger layers. Both the Upper Old Red and Triassic sandstones have been extensively quarried for building materials. On the shore at Lossiemouth, there’s a patch of greenish-white sandstones yielding fossils typical of the Lower Oolite.
The glacial deposits distributed over the fertile plain of Moray and in the upland valleys are of interest. The low grounds were crossed by the ice descending the Moray Firth in an easterly and south-easterly direction, which carried boulders of granite from Strath Nairn and augen gneiss from Easter Ross. In the Elgin district, boulders belonging to the horizons of the Lower and Middle Lias, the Oxford Clay and the Upper Chalk are found both in the glacial deposits and on the surface of the ground. The largest transported mass occurs at Linksfield, where a succession of limestones and shales rests on boulder clay and is covered by it, which from the fossils may be of Rhaetic or Lower Lias age.
The glacial deposits spread across the fertile plain of Moray and in the upland valleys are noteworthy. The low areas were traversed by ice flowing down from the Moray Firth to the east and southeast, carrying granite boulders from Strath Nairn and augen gneiss from Easter Ross. In the Elgin area, boulders from the Lower and Middle Lias, Oxford Clay, and Upper Chalk can be found both in the glacial deposits and on the ground surface. The largest transported mass is at Linksfield, where layers of limestone and shale sit on top of boulder clay and are covered by it; based on the fossils, this may date back to Rhaetic or Lower Lias time.
Climate and Agriculture.—The climate of the coast is equable and mild, even exotic fruits ripening readily in the open. The uplands are colder and damp. The average temperature in January is 38° F. and in July 58.5°, while for the year the mean is 47° F. The rainfall for the year averages 26 in. Considering its latitude and the extent of its arable land the standard of farming in Elginshire is high. The rich soil of the lowlands is well adapted for wheat, barley and oats. The acreage confined 270 to the glens and straths under barley approximates that under oats. In the uplands, oats is the principal cereal. The breeding of live-stock is profitable, and some of the finest specimens of shorthorned and polled cattle and of crosses between the two are bred. On the larger farms in the Laigh Leicester sheep are kept all the year round, but in the uplands the Blackfaced take their place. Large numbers of horses and pigs are also raised.
Climate and Agriculture.—The coastal climate is mild and stable, allowing exotic fruits to ripen easily outdoors. The uplands are cooler and wetter. The average temperature in January is 38° F., and in July, it’s 58.5°, with an overall annual mean of 47° F. The annual rainfall averages 26 inches. Given its latitude and the amount of arable land, farming standards in Elginshire are high. The fertile lowlands are well-suited for growing wheat, barley, and oats. The land designated for barley in the glens and straths is nearly equal to that for oats. In the uplands, oats are the main crop. Livestock breeding is lucrative, producing some of the finest short-horned and polled cattle, as well as hybrids of the two. On larger farms in the Laigh, Leicester sheep are raised year-round, while the uplands are home to Blackfaced sheep. A significant number of horses and pigs are also raised.
Other Industries.—Whisky is the chief product, and the numerous distilleries are usually busy. There are woollen mills at Elgin and elsewhere and chemical works at Forres and Burghead. Owing to the absence of coal what little mineral wealth there is (iron and lead) cannot be remuneratively worked. The sandstone quarries, yielding a building-stone of superior quality, are practically inexhaustible. The plantations mainly consist of larch and fir and, to a smaller extent, of oak. Much timber was once floated down the Spey and other rivers, but, since the increased facilities of carriage afforded by the railways, trees have been felled on a wider scale. Boat-building is carried on at Burghead, Lossiemouth and Kingston—so-called from the fact that a firm from Kingston-on-Hull laid down a yard there in 1784—while at Garmouth the fishing fleet lies up during the winter and is also repaired there. The Firth fisheries are of considerable value. The boats go out from Findhorn, Burghead, Hopeman and Lossiemouth, which are all furnished with safe harbours. Findhorn has been twice visited by calamities. The first village was overwhelmed by the drifting sands of Culbin, and the second was buried beneath the waves in 1701. Kingston harbour is tidal, exposed, and liable to interruption from a shifting bar. The deep sea fisheries comprise haddock, cod, ling and herring, and the Spey, Findhorn and Lossie yield large quantities of salmon.
Other Industries.—Whisky is the main product, and the many distilleries are usually busy. There are wool mills in Elgin and other places, and chemical plants in Forres and Burghead. Due to the lack of coal, the little mineral resources available (iron and lead) cannot be profitably extracted. The sandstone quarries, which produce high-quality building stone, are virtually endless. The forests mainly consist of larch and fir, with some oak. A lot of timber used to be transported down the Spey and other rivers, but since the railways improved transportation, trees have been cut down on a larger scale. Boat-building happens in Burghead, Lossiemouth, and Kingston—named because a company from Kingston-on-Hull set up a yard there in 1784. Meanwhile, in Garmouth, the fishing fleet takes shelter during the winter and gets repaired there. The Firth fisheries are quite valuable. Boats go out from Findhorn, Burghead, Hopeman, and Lossiemouth, all equipped with safe harbors. Findhorn has faced two major disasters. The first village was buried by the drifting sands of Culbin, and the second was submerged by waves in 1701. Kingston harbor is tidal, exposed, and can be affected by a shifting sandbar. The deep sea fisheries include haddock, cod, ling, and herring, while the Spey, Findhorn, and Lossie produce large amounts of salmon.
The Great North of Scotland railway enters the shire in the S.E. from Craigellachie, whence a branch runs up the Spey to Boat of Garten in Inverness-shire, and in the N.E. from Port Gordon, running in both cases to Elgin, from which a branch line extends to Lossiemouth. The Highland railway traverses the western limits of the shire running almost due north to Forres, whence it turns westward to Nairn and eastward to Elgin. From the county town it runs to Aberdeen via Orbliston and Keith, with a branch to Fochabers from Orbliston.
The Great North of Scotland railway enters the county from the southeast at Craigellachie, where a branch goes up the Spey to Boat of Garten in Inverness-shire, and from the northeast at Port Gordon, both routes leading to Elgin, which has a branch line extending to Lossiemouth. The Highland railway runs along the western border of the county, heading almost straight north to Forres, then it branches west to Nairn and east to Elgin. From the county town, it travels to Aberdeen via Orbliston and Keith, with a branch to Fochabers from Orbliston.
Population and Government.—The population was 43,471 in 1891 and 44,800 in 1901, when 1865 persons spoke both Gaelic and English, and 2 spoke Gaelic only. The chief towns are Elgin (pop. in 1901, 8460), Forres (4313) and Lossiemouth (3904), to which may be added Rothes (1621), Grantown (1568) and Burghead (1531). In conjunction with Nairnshire the county returns one member to parliament. Elgin and Forres are royal burghs; the municipal and police burghs include Burghead, Elgin, Forres, Grantown, Lossiemouth, and Rothes. Elginshire is included in one sheriffdom with Inverness and Nairn, and there is a resident sheriff-substitute at Elgin. The county is under school-board jurisdiction, several of the schools earning grants for higher education. There are academies at Elgin and Fochabers and science and art and technical schools at Elgin and Grantown. The bulk of the “residue” grant is spent in subsidizing the agricultural department of Aberdeen University and the science schools and art and technical classes in the county.
Population and Government.—The population was 43,471 in 1891 and 44,800 in 1901, with 1,865 people speaking both Gaelic and English, and 2 speaking Gaelic only. The main towns are Elgin (pop. in 1901, 8,460), Forres (4,313), and Lossiemouth (3,904), along with Rothes (1,621), Grantown (1,568), and Burghead (1,531). Together with Nairnshire, the county elects one member to parliament. Elgin and Forres are royal burghs; the municipal and police burghs include Burghead, Elgin, Forres, Grantown, Lossiemouth, and Rothes. Elginshire is part of the same sheriffdom as Inverness and Nairn, and there is a resident sheriff-substitute in Elgin. The county is governed by a school board, with several schools receiving grants for higher education. There are academies in Elgin and Fochabers, as well as science, art, and technical schools in Elgin and Grantown. Most of the “residue” grant is used to support the agricultural department of Aberdeen University and the science and art and technical classes in the county.
History.—Moray, in the wider sense, was first peopled by Picts of the Gaelic branch of Celts, of whom relics are found in the stone circle at Viewfield and at many places in Nairnshire. Christianity, introduced under the auspices of Columba (from whose time the site of Burghead church has probably been so occupied), flourished for a period until the Columban church was expelled in 717 by King Nectan. Thereafter the district was given over to internecine strife between the northern and southern Picts, which was ended by the crushing victory of Kenneth MacAlpine in 831, as one result of which the kingdom of Pictavia was superseded by the principality of Moravia. Still, settled order had not yet been secured, for the Norsemen raided the country first under Thorstein and then under two Sigurds. It was in the time of the second Sigurd that the Firth was fixed as the northern boundary of Moray. In spite of such interruptions as the battle of Torfness (Burghead) on the 14th of August 1040, in which Thorfinn, earl of Orkney and Shetland, overthrew a strong force of Scots under King Duncan, the consolidation of the kingdom was being gradually accomplished. After Macbeth ascended the throne the Scandinavians held their hands. Though Macbeth and his fainéant successor, “daft” Lulach, were the only kings whom Moray gave to Scotland, the province never lacked for able, if headstrong, men, and it continued to enjoy home rule under its own marmaer, or great steward (the equivalent of earl, the title that replaced it), until the dawn of the 12th century, when as an entity it ceased to exist. With a view to breaking up the power of the marmaers David I. and his successors colonized the seaboard with settlers from other parts of the kingdom. Nevertheless, from time to time the clansmen and their chiefs descended from their fastnesses and plundered the Laigh, keeping the people for generations in a state of panic. Meanwhile, the Church had become a civilizing force. In 1107 Alexander had founded the see of Moray and the churches of Birnie, Kinneddar and Spynie were in turn the cathedral of the early bishops, until in 1224 under the episcopate of Andrew of Moray (de Moravia), the church of the Holy Trinity in Elgin was chosen for the cathedral. Another factor that drew men together was the struggle for independence. In his effort to stamp out Scottish nationality Edward I. came as far north as Elgin, where he stayed for four days in July 1296, and whence he issued his writ for the parliament at Berwick. Wallace, however, had no doughtier supporter than Sir Andrew Moray of Bothwell, and Bruce recognized the assistance he had received from the men of the north by erecting Moray into an earldom on the morrow of Bannockburn and bestowing it upon Thomas Randolph (see Moray, Thomas Randolph, earl of). Henceforward the history of the county resolved itself in the main into matters affecting the power of the Church and the ambitions of the Moray dynasties. The Church accepted the Reformation peacefully if not with gratitude. But there was strife between Covenanters and the adherents of Episcopacy until, prelacy itself being abolished in 1689, the bishopric of Moray came to an end after an existence of 581 years. (For the subsequent history of the earldom, which was successively held by the Randolphs, the Dunbars, the Douglases, the royal Stewarts and an illegitimate branch of the Stewarts, see Murray or Moray, earls of.) Other celebrated Moray families who played a more or less strenuous part in local politics were the Gordons, the Grants and the Duffs. Still, national affairs occasionally evoked interest in Moray. In the civil war Montrose ravaged the villages which stood for the Covenanters, but most of the great lairds shifted in their allegiance, and the mass of the people were quite indifferent to the declining fortunes of the Stewarts. Charles II. landed at Garmouth on the 3rd of July 1650 on his return from his first exile in Holland, but hurried southwards to try the yoke of Presbytery. The fight at Cromdale (May day, 1690) shattered the Jacobite cause, for the efforts in 1715 and 1745 were too spasmodic and half-hearted to affect the loyalty of the district to Hanoverian rule. A few weeks before Culloden Prince Charles Edward stayed in Elgin for some days, and a month afterwards the duke of Cumberland passed through the town at the top of his speed and administered the coup de grâce to the Young Pretender on Drummossie Moor.
History.—Moray, in a broader sense, was first inhabited by Picts from the Gaelic branch of the Celts, whose remnants can be found in the stone circle at Viewfield and in many places throughout Nairnshire. Christianity was introduced with the help of Columba (from whose time the site of Burghead church has likely been occupied), thriving for a period until King Nectan expelled the Columban church in 717. After that, the area was consumed by internal conflict between the northern and southern Picts, a struggle that ended with Kenneth MacAlpine's decisive victory in 831, resulting in the kingdom of Pictavia being replaced by the principality of Moravia. However, stability had not yet been established, as the Norse raided the region first under Thorstein and then under two Sigurds. During the time of the second Sigurd, the Firth was established as the northern boundary of Moray. Despite interruptions such as the battle of Torfness (Burghead) on August 14, 1040, where Thorfinn, Earl of Orkney and Shetland, defeated a strong Scottish force led by King Duncan, efforts to consolidate the kingdom were gradually underway. After Macbeth took the throne, the Scandinavians held back. Although Macbeth and his fainéant successor, “daft” Lulach, were the only kings Moray contributed to Scotland, the province was never short of capable, albeit headstrong, leaders, continuing to enjoy self-rule under its own marmaer, or great steward (the equivalent of earl, the title that replaced it), until the early 12th century when it ceased to exist as a distinct entity. To break the power of the marmaers, David I and his successors settled the coast with people from other parts of the kingdom. Nevertheless, clansmen and their chiefs occasionally descended from their strongholds to raid the Laigh, keeping the local population in a state of fear for generations. Meanwhile, the Church became a civilizing influence. In 1107, Alexander founded the see of Moray, and the churches of Birnie, Kinneddar, and Spynie served as the cathedral for the early bishops until, in 1224 under Bishop Andrew of Moray (de Moravia), the church of the Holy Trinity in Elgin was chosen as the cathedral. Another element that unified people was the fight for independence. In his attempt to eliminate Scottish identity, Edward I came as far north as Elgin, where he stayed for four days in July 1296, issuing his writ for the parliament at Berwick from there. However, Wallace had no more steadfast supporter than Sir Andrew Moray of Bothwell, and Bruce acknowledged the help he got from the northern men by turning Moray into an earldom the day after Bannockburn, given to Thomas Randolph (see Moray, Thomas Randolph, earl of). From then on, the history of the county primarily revolved around the power of the Church and the ambitions of the Moray dynasties. The Church accepted the Reformation peacefully, if not gratefully. However, conflict persisted between Covenanters and supporters of Episcopacy until prelacy was abolished in 1689, marking the end of the bishopric of Moray after 581 years. (For subsequent history of the earldom, which was held by the Randolphs, the Dunbars, the Douglases, the royal Stewarts, and an illegitimate branch of the Stewarts, see Murray or Moray, earls of.) Other notable Moray families that played varying roles in local politics included the Gordons, the Grants, and the Duffs. Yet, national issues sometimes sparked interest in Moray. During the civil war, Montrose devastated the villages that supported the Covenanters, but most of the major landowners shifted their loyalties, and the majority of the people were indifferent to the declining fortunes of the Stewarts. Charles II landed at Garmouth on July 3, 1650, after his first exile in Holland, but quickly headed south to experience the yoke of Presbytery. The battle at Cromdale (May 1, 1690) shattered the Jacobite cause, as the attempts in 1715 and 1745 were too sporadic and lackluster to change the district's loyalty to Hanoverian rule. A few weeks before Culloden, Prince Charles Edward stayed in Elgin for several days, and a month later, the Duke of Cumberland rushed through the town at top speed and delivered the coup de grâce to the Young Pretender on Drummossie Moor.
Twice Elginshire has been the scene of catastrophes without parallel in Scotland. In 1694 the barony of Culbin—a fine estate, with a rent roll in money and kind of £6000 a year, belonging to the Kinnairds, comprising 3600 acres of land, so fertile that it was called the Granary of Moray, a handsome mansion, a church and several houses—was buried under a mass of sand in a storm of extraordinary severity. The sandy waste measures 3 m. in length and 2 in breadth, and the sand, exceedingly fine and light, is constantly shifting and, at rare intervals, exposing traces of the vanished demesne. This wilderness of dome-shaped dunes divided by a loftier ridge lies to the north-west of Forres. The other calamity was the Moray floods of the 2nd and 3rd of 271 August 1829. The Findhorn rose 50 ft. above the ordinary level, inundating an area of 20 sq. m.; the Divie rose 40 ft., and the Lossie flooded all the low ground around Elgin. The floods tore down bridges and buildings, and obliterated farms and homesteads.
Twice, Elginshire has been the site of disasters unmatched in Scotland. In 1694, the Culbin barony—a beautiful estate with an annual income of £6,000 from cash and goods, owned by the Kinnaird family, covering 3,600 acres of land so rich that it was known as the Granary of Moray—had a lovely mansion, a church, and several homes, all buried beneath a massive pile of sand during an extremely severe storm. The sandy wasteland extends 3 miles in length and 2 miles in width, and the sand, which is very fine and light, constantly shifts, occasionally revealing remnants of the lost estate. This expanse of dome-shaped dunes, separated by a taller ridge, is located to the north-west of Forres. The other disaster was the Moray floods on August 2nd and 3rd, 1829. The Findhorn River rose 50 feet above its usual level, flooding an area of 20 square miles; the Divie River rose 40 feet, and the Lossie River inundated all the low-lying areas around Elgin. The floods destroyed bridges and buildings and wiped out farms and homesteads.
Authorities.—Lachlan Shaw, History of the Province of Moray (Gordon’s edition, Glasgow, 1882); A Survey of the Province of Moray (Elgin, 1798); W. Rhind, Sketches of the Past and Present State of Moray (Edinburgh, 1839); E. Dunbar Dunbar, Documents relating to the Province of Moray (Edinburgh, 1895); C.A. Gordon, History of the House of Gordon (Aberdeen, 1890); C. Rampini, History of Moray and Nairn (Edinburgh, 1897); C. Innes, Elgin, Past and Present (Elgin, 1860); J. Macdonald, “Burghead” (Proceedings of Glasgow Archaeological Soc.), (1891); Sir T. Dick Lauder, The Wolf of Badenoch (Glasgow, 1886); An Account of the Great Floods of August 1829 in the Province of Moray and Adjoining Districts (Elgin, 1873).
Authorities.—Lachlan Shaw, History of the Province of Moray (Gordon’s edition, Glasgow, 1882); A Survey of the Province of Moray (Elgin, 1798); W. Rhind, Sketches of the Past and Present State of Moray (Edinburgh, 1839); E. Dunbar Dunbar, Documents relating to the Province of Moray (Edinburgh, 1895); C.A. Gordon, History of the House of Gordon (Aberdeen, 1890); C. Rampini, History of Moray and Nairn (Edinburgh, 1897); C. Innes, Elgin, Past and Present (Elgin, 1860); J. Macdonald, “Burghead” (Proceedings of Glasgow Archaeological Soc.), (1891); Sir T. Dick Lauder, The Wolf of Badenoch (Glasgow, 1886); An Account of the Great Floods of August 1829 in the Province of Moray and Adjoining Districts (Elgin, 1873).
ELGON, also known as Masawa, an extinct volcano in British East Africa, cut by 1° N. and 34½° E., forming a vast isolated mass over 40 m. in diameter. The outer slopes are in great measure precipitous on the north, west and south, but fall more gradually to the east. The southern cliffs are remarkable for extensive caves, which have the appearance of water-worn caves on a coast line and have for ages served as habitations for the natives. The higher parts slope gradually upwards to the rim of an old crater, lying somewhat north of the centre of the mass, and measuring some 8 m. in diameter. The highest point of the rim is about 14,100 ft. above the sea. Steep spurs separated by narrow ravines run out from the mountain, affording the most picturesque scenery. The ravines are traversed by a great number of streams, which flow north-west and west to the Nile (through Lake Choga), south and south-east to Victoria Nyanza, and north-east to Lake Rudolf by the Turkwell, the head-stream of which rises within the crater, breaking through a deep cleft in its rim. To the north-west of the mountain a grassy plain, swampy in the rains, falls towards the chain of lakes ending in Choga; towards the north-east the country becomes more arid, while towards the south it is well wooded. The outer slopes are clothed in their upper regions with dense forest formed in part of bamboos, especially towards the south and west, in which directions the rainfall is greater than elsewhere. The lower slopes are exceptionally fertile on the west, and produce bananas in abundance. On the north-west and north the region between 6000 and 7000 ft. possesses a delightful climate, and is well watered by streams of ice-cold water. The district of Save on the north is a halting-place for Arab and Swahili caravans going north. On the west the slopes are densely inhabited by small Bantu-Negro tribes, who style their country Masawa (whence the alternative name for the mountain); but on the south and north there are tribes which seem akin to the Gallas. Of these, the best known are the El-gonyi, from whom the name Elgon has been derived. They formerly lived almost entirely in the caves, but many of them have descended to villages at the foot of the mountain. Elgon was first visited in 1883 by Joseph Thomson, who brought to light the cave-dwellings on the southern face. It was crossed from north to south, and its crater reached, in 1890 by F.J. Jackson and Ernest Gedge, while the first journey round it was made by C.W. Hobley in 1896.
ELGON, also known as Masawa, is an extinct volcano in British East Africa, located at 1° N. and 34½° E. Its massive structure spans over 40 km in diameter. The outer slopes are quite steep on the north, west, and south sides, but they slope more gently to the east. The southern cliffs are notable for their extensive caves, resembling coastal, water-worn caves that have served as homes for locals for ages. The higher areas gradually rise to the rim of an ancient crater, which is slightly north of the center and measures about 8 km in diameter. The highest point of the rim is around 14,100 ft. above sea level. Steep spurs separated by narrow ravines extend from the mountain, creating stunning landscapes. Numerous streams flow through the ravines, heading northwest and west towards the Nile (via Lake Choga), to the south and southeast towards Victoria Nyanza, and to the northeast towards Lake Rudolf via the Turkwell River, which rises within the crater and breaks through a deep crack in its rim. To the northwest of the mountain lies a grassy plain that turns swampy during the rainy season, leading to a series of lakes culminating in Choga; to the northeast, the terrain becomes drier, while the south is lush with trees. The upper sections of the outer slopes are covered with dense forests, particularly bamboos, mainly in the south and west where rainfall is higher than in other regions. The lower slopes on the west are remarkably fertile and produce large quantities of bananas. The area between 6000 and 7000 ft. in the northwest and north enjoys a pleasant climate and is well-supplied with cold streams. The Save district to the north serves as a stopping point for Arab and Swahili caravans traveling northward. The western slopes are densely populated by small Bantu-Negro tribes, who refer to their land as Masawa (the origin of the mountain's alternative name); however, tribes akin to the Gallas inhabit the south and north. Among these, the El-gonyi are the most well-known, and the name Elgon is derived from them. They traditionally lived mainly in the caves, but many have now moved down to villages at the foot of the mountain. Elgon was first explored in 1883 by Joseph Thomson, who uncovered the cave dwellings on the southern face. It was traversed from north to south, reaching its crater in 1890 by F.J. Jackson and Ernest Gedge, while C.W. Hobley made the first complete circuit around it in 1896.
ELI (Hebrew for “high”? 1 Sam. chaps, i.-iv.), a member of the ancient priesthood founded in Egypt (1 Sam. ii. 27), priest of the temple of Shiloh, the sanctuary of the ark, and also “judge” over Israel. This was an unusual combination of offices, when it is considered that in the history preserved to us he appears in the weakness of extreme old age, unable to control the petulance and rapacity of his sons, Hophni and Phinehas, who disgraced the sanctuary and disgusted the people. While the central authority was thus weakened, the Philistines advanced against Israel, and gained a complete victory in the great battle of Ebenezer, where the ark was taken, and Hophni and Phinehas slain. On hearing the news Eli fell from his seat and died. In a passage not unlike the account of the birth of Benjamin (Gen. xxxv. 16 sqq.), it is added that the wife of Phinehas, overwhelmed at the loss of the ark and of her husband, died in child-birth, naming the babe Ichabod (1 Sam. iv. 19 sqq.). This name, which popular etymology explained by the words “the glory is removed (or, stronger, ‘banished’) from Israel” (cf. Hos. x. 5), should perhaps be altered from I-kābōd (as though “not glory”) to Jōchebed (Yōkebed, a slight change in the original), the name which tradition also gave to the mother of Moses (q.v.). After these events the sanctuary of Shiloh appears to have been destroyed (cf. Jer. vii. 12, xxvi. 6, 9), and the descendants of Eli with the whole of their clan or “father’s house” subsequently appear as settled at Nob (1 Sam. xxi. 1, xxii. 11 sqq., cp. xiv. 3), perhaps in the immediate neighbourhood of Jerusalem (Is. x. 32). In the massacre of the clan by Saul, and the subsequent substitution of the survivor Abiathar by Zadok (1 Kings ii. 27, 35), later writers saw the fulfilment of the prophecies of judgment which was said to have been uttered in the days of Eli against his corrupt house (1 Sam. ii. 27 sqq., iii. 11 sqq.).1
ELI (Hebrew for “high”? 1 Sam. chaps, i.-iv.), a member of the ancient priesthood established in Egypt (1 Sam. ii. 27), was the priest of the temple of Shiloh, the sacred space for the ark, and also served as a “judge” over Israel. This combination of roles was unusual, especially considering that in the accounts we have, he is depicted as being very old and unable to manage the unruly behavior and greed of his sons, Hophni and Phinehas, who brought shame to the sanctuary and angered the people. As the central authority weakened, the Philistines marched against Israel and achieved a total victory at the significant battle of Ebenezer, where the ark was captured, and Hophni and Phinehas were killed. Upon hearing the news, Eli fell from his chair and died. In a narrative reminiscent of the birth of Benjamin (Gen. xxxv. 16 sqq.), it is noted that Phinehas's wife, devastated by the loss of the ark and her husband, died during childbirth, naming her baby Ichabod (1 Sam. iv. 19 sqq.). This name, which popular interpretation linked to the phrase “the glory is removed (or, more intensely, ‘banished’) from Israel” (cf. Hos. x. 5), might be adjusted from I-kābōd (as if meaning “not glory”) to Jōchebed (Yōkebed, a slight change in the original), which is the name tradition also gave to Moses's mother (q.v.). After these events, it seems the sanctuary of Shiloh was destroyed (cf. Jer. vii. 12, xxvi. 6, 9), and Eli's descendants, along with their entire clan or “father’s house,” later settled at Nob (1 Sam. xxi. 1, xxii. 11 sqq., cp. xiv. 3), possibly close to Jerusalem (Is. x. 32). In the massacre of the clan by Saul, and the later replacement of the survivor Abiathar by Zadok (1 Kings ii. 27, 35), later writers interpreted this as the fulfillment of the judgment prophecies supposedly spoken during Eli's time regarding his corrupt family (1 Sam. ii. 27 sqq., iii. 11 sqq.).1
See further, Samuel, Books of; and on Eli as a descendant of a Levite clan (1 Sam. ii 27 sq.), see Levites (§ 3).
See further, Samuel, Books of; and regarding Eli as a member of a Levite clan (1 Sam. ii 27 sq.), see Levites (§ 3).
1 On the old views relating to the succession of the priests, according to which the high-priesthood was diverted from the line of Eleazar and Phinehas into that of Ithamar, see Robertson Smith, Old Test. in Jewish Church, 2nd ed., p. 266.
1 For the previous opinions about how the succession of priests worked, which state that the high-priesthood shifted from the line of Eleazar and Phinehas to that of Ithamar, refer to Robertson Smith, Old Test. in Jewish Church, 2nd ed., p. 266.
ELIAS, of Cortona (c. 1180-1253), disciple of St Francis of Assisi, was born near Assisi, about 1180, of the working class, but became schoolmaster at Assisi and then notary at Bologna. In 1217 he was the head of the Franciscan mission to the Holy Land, and in 1219 St Francis made him first provincial minister of Syria. When St Francis was recalled from the East in 1220 he brought Elias with him. Elias played a leading part in the early history of the Franciscan order (see Franciscans); Francis made him his vicar general in 1221; and he was the practical acting superior of the order till Francis’ death in 1226, and the real superior till the general chapter of 1227. This chapter did not elect him minister general, but that of 1232 did; at the chapter of 1239 he was deposed. During these years he erected the basilica and monastery at Assisi which were entirely his creation—he collected the funds and carried the work through, being himself the builder and even the architect. Elias was a man of extraordinary ability, the friend both of Gregory IX. and of his opponent Frederick II. After his deposition Elias joined the party of the emperor and so incurred excommunication. Frederick sent him as ambassador to Constantinople. He dressed and lived as a Franciscan throughout and a small number of friars adhered to him; for these he built a church and monastery at Cortona. Unavailing efforts were made to bring about his reconciliation with the order and the Church; at last on his death-bed he made his submission to the pope and died in 1253, having received the Sacraments.
ELIAS, of Cortona (c. 1180-1253), a disciple of St. Francis of Assisi, was born near Assisi around 1180 into a working-class family but eventually became a schoolmaster in Assisi and then a notary in Bologna. In 1217, he led the Franciscan mission to the Holy Land, and in 1219, St. Francis appointed him as the first provincial minister of Syria. When St. Francis was called back from the East in 1220, he brought Elias along. Elias played a major role in the early history of the Franciscan order (see Franciscans); Francis made him his vicar general in 1221, and he was the practical acting leader of the order until Francis’ death in 1226, and the actual superior until the general chapter of 1227. This chapter did not elect him as minister general, but the one in 1232 did; he was deposed at the chapter in 1239. During these years, he built the basilica and monastery at Assisi, which were entirely his creation—he raised the funds and oversaw the entire project, serving as both builder and architect. Elias was a man of exceptional talent, a friend to both Gregory IX and his rival Frederick II. After his deposition, Elias joined the emperor's side, which led to his excommunication. Frederick sent him as an ambassador to Constantinople. He dressed and lived as a Franciscan throughout his life, and a small group of friars followed him; for these, he built a church and monastery in Cortona. Attempts to reconcile him with the order and the Church were unsuccessful; finally, on his deathbed, he submitted to the pope and died in 1253, having received the Sacraments.
The best account of Elias is that by Ed. Lempp, Frère Élie de Cortone (1901), who points out the conflict of view, as to the relations between Elias and Francis, between the Speculum perfectionis and the First Life, by Thomas of Celano; Lempp and Sabatier accept the hostile picture given by the Speculum perfectionis. But see further Francis of Assisi, Saint, “Note on Sources,” and especially the articles by Goetz, there referred to, in the Hist. Vierteljahrsschrift. There is a good article on Elias, but written before the new materials had been produced, in Wetzer und Welte, Kirchenlexicon (ed. 2).
The best account of Elias is by Ed. Lempp, Frère Élie de Cortone (1901), who highlights the differing perspectives on the relationship between Elias and Francis, particularly comparing the Speculum perfectionis and the First Life by Thomas of Celano. Lempp and Sabatier accept the unflattering portrayal given in the Speculum perfectionis. For more details, see Francis of Assisi, Saint, “Note on Sources,” especially the articles by Goetz mentioned there in the Hist. Vierteljahrsschrift. There is a good article on Elias, though it was written before the new materials were available, in Wetzer und Welte, Kirchenlexicon (ed. 2).
ELIAS, JOHN (1774-1841), Welsh Nonconformist preacher and reformer, was born on the 2nd of May 1774, in the parish of Abererch, Carnarvonshire. In his youth he came under the influence of the Calvinistic Methodist revival and became a preacher at nineteen. In 1799 he married and settled at Llanfechell in Anglesey, giving up his trade as a weaver to become a small shopkeeper. His fame as a preacher increased, and under the direction of Thomas Charles of Bala he established numerous Sunday schools, and gave and secured considerable Welsh support to the founding of the London Missionary Society, the British and Foreign Bible Society and the Religious Tract Society. On Charles’s death in 1814 he became the recognized leader of the Calvinistic Methodist Church, and the story of his life is simply a record of marvellously successful preaching tours. He died on the 8th of June 1841; ten thousand people attended his funeral.
ELIAS, JOHN (1774-1841), Welsh Nonconformist preacher and reformer, was born on May 2, 1774, in the parish of Abererch, Carnarvonshire. In his early years, he was influenced by the Calvinistic Methodist revival and started preaching at nineteen. In 1799, he got married and settled in Llanfechell, Anglesey, leaving his job as a weaver to become a small shopkeeper. His reputation as a preacher grew, and under the guidance of Thomas Charles of Bala, he established many Sunday schools and garnered significant Welsh support for founding the London Missionary Society, the British and Foreign Bible Society, and the Religious Tract Society. After Charles's death in 1814, he became the recognized leader of the Calvinistic Methodist Church, and his life is essentially a chronicle of remarkably successful preaching tours. He died on June 8, 1841; ten thousand people attended his funeral.
His eloquence was so remarkable that he was known as “the Welsh Demosthenes.” His strength lay in his intense conviction of an intimate connexion between sin and punishment and in his power of dramatic presentation. As an ecclesiastic he was not so successful; he helped to compile his church’s Confession of Faith in 1823, and laid great stress on a clause which limited the scope of the atonement to the elect. He was a stout Tory in politics and had many friends among the Anglican clergy; he opposed the movement for Roman Catholic emancipation. Several of his sermons were published in Welsh.
His eloquence was so impressive that he was known as “the Welsh Demosthenes.” His strength came from his strong belief in a close connection between sin and punishment, along with his ability to present ideas dramatically. In his role as a church leader, he wasn't as successful; he helped put together his church’s Confession of Faith in 1823 and emphasized a clause that limited the atonement to the elect. He was a staunch Tory in politics and had many friends among Anglican clergy; he opposed the movement for Roman Catholic emancipation. Several of his sermons were published in Welsh.
ELIAS LEVITA (1469-1549), Jewish grammarian, was born at Neustadt on the Aisch, a place in Bavaria lying between Nuremberg and Würzburg. He preferred to call himself “Ashkenazi,” the German, and bore also the nickname of “Bachur,” the youth or student, which latter he gave as title to his Hebrew grammar. Before the end of the 15th century he went to Italy, which thenceforth remained his home. He lived first at Padua, went in 1509, after the capture of this town by the army of the League of Cambrai, to Venice, and finally in 1513 to Rome, where he found a patron in the learned general of the Augustinian Order, the future cardinal Egidio di Viterbo, whom he helped in his study of the Kabbalah, while he himself was inspired by him to literary work. The storming of Rome by the army of the Constable de Bourbon in 1527 compelled Elias to go to Venice, where he was employed as corrector in the printing-house of Daniel Bomberg. In the years 1541 and 1542 he lived at Isny, in Southern Württemberg, where he published several of his writings in the printing-house of the learned pastor Paul Fagius. The last years of his life he spent at Venice, continuously active in spite of ill-health and the weakness of old age. His monument in the graveyard of the Jewish community at Venice boasts of him that “he illuminated the darkness of grammar and turned it into light.” The importance of Levita rests both in his numerous writings and in his personal activity. In the remarkable period which saw the rise of the Reformation and gave to the study of the Hebrew Bible and to its language an importance in the history of the world, it was Levita who furthered in an extraordinary manner the study of Hebrew in Christian circles by his activity as a teacher and by his writings. To his pupils especially belong Sebastian Minoter, who translated Levita’s grammatical works into Latin, also George de Selve, bishop of Lavaur, the French ambassador in Venice (1536), who was instrumental in obtaining for Levita an invitation from Francis I. to come to Paris, which invitation, however, Levita did not accept. Levita’s writings on Hebrew grammar (Bachur, a text-book, 1518; Harkaba, an explanation, alphabetically arranged, of irregular word-forms; a Table of Paradigms; Pirke Elijahu, a description—partly metrical—of phonetics, and other chapters of the grammar, 1520; his earliest work, a Commentary on Moses Kimḥi’s Hebrew Grammar, 1508) were by reason of their methodical exposition, their clear articulation, their avoidance of prolixity, especially suited as an introduction to the study of the Hebrew language. Amongst Levita’s other writings is the first dictionary of the Targumim (Meturgeman, 1541) and the first attempt at a lexicon in which much of the treasure of late Hebrew language was explained (Tishbi, explanation of 712 new Hebrew vocables, as a supplement to the dictionaries of David Kimḥi and Nathan b. Yeḥiel, 1542). Scientifically most valuable, and of original importance, are the works of Levita on the Massora; his Concordance to the Massora (Sefer Zikhronot completed in the second revision 1536), of which hitherto only a small part has been published, and especially his most celebrated book Massoreth Hamasoreth (1538), published with English translation by Chr. D. Ginsburg, London, 1867. This was the first attempt to give a systematic account of the contents and history of the Massora. By his criticism of the Massora, and especially by proving that the punctuation of the books of the Hebrew Bible is of late origin, Levita exercised an epoch-making influence. Of his other writings may be mentioned his running commentary on David Kimḥi’s Grammar and Dictionary (in the Bomberg editions 1545, 1546), his German translation of the Psalms (1545) and the Baba-Buch (more properly Buovobuch, a German recension of the Italian novel Historia di Buovo d’ Antona, 1508).
ELIAS LEVITA (1469-1549), a Jewish grammarian, was born in Neustadt on the Aisch, a town in Bavaria located between Nuremberg and Würzburg. He preferred to identify as “Ashkenazi,” meaning the German, and was also nicknamed “Bachur,” which means youth or student; he used this title for his Hebrew grammar. Before the end of the 15th century, he moved to Italy, which became his permanent home. He first lived in Padua, then moved to Venice in 1509 after the town was captured by the League of Cambrai, and finally settled in Rome in 1513, where he found a patron in the learned general of the Augustinian Order, the future cardinal Egidio di Viterbo. He assisted Egidio in studying the Kabbalah while being inspired to engage in literary work himself. The sacking of Rome by the army of Constable de Bourbon in 1527 forced Elias to go to Venice, where he worked as a proofreader at Daniel Bomberg's printing house. In 1541 and 1542, he resided in Isny, in Southern Württemberg, where he published several of his works at the printing house of the scholarly pastor Paul Fagius. He spent the last years of his life in Venice, remaining active despite his poor health and the frailty of old age. His gravestone in the Jewish community cemetery in Venice claims that “he illuminated the darkness of grammar and turned it into light.” Levita is significant for both his numerous writings and his personal contributions. During the remarkable period marked by the rise of the Reformation, which elevated the study of the Hebrew Bible and its language in world history, Levita greatly advanced the study of Hebrew among Christians through his teaching and writings. Notable students of his include Sebastian Minoter, who translated Levita’s grammatical works into Latin, and George de Selve, bishop of Lavaur and the French ambassador in Venice in 1536, who facilitated Levita’s invitation from Francis I to come to Paris, though Levita did not accept. Levita’s writings on Hebrew grammar include Bachur, a textbook from 1518; Harkaba, an alphabetical explanation of irregular word forms; a Table of Paradigms; Pirke Elijahu, a description—partly poetic—of phonetics and other grammar chapters from 1520; and his earliest work, a Commentary on Moses Kimḥi’s Hebrew Grammar from 1508. These works were methodically structured, clearly articulated, and concise, making them great introductions to the study of Hebrew. Among Levita’s other writings is the first dictionary of the Targumim, Meturgeman (1541), and the first attempt at a lexicon that treasures much of the late Hebrew language (Tishbi, an explanation of 712 new Hebrew words as a supplement to the dictionaries of David Kimḥi and Nathan b. Yeḥiel, 1542). Scientifically valuable and original are Levita's works on the Massora; his Concordance to the Massora (Sefer Zikhronot, completed in its second revision in 1536), of which only a small portion has been published so far, and especially his most famous book Massoreth Hamasoreth (1538), published with an English translation by Chr. D. Ginsburg in London, 1867. This was the first attempt to systematically describe the contents and history of the Massora. Through his criticisms of the Massora, especially demonstrating that the punctuation in the Hebrew Bible texts is of late origin, Levita made a groundbreaking impact. Other notable writings include his commentary on David Kimḥi’s Grammar and Dictionary (in Bomberg editions from 1545, 1546), his German translation of the Psalms (1545), and the Baba-Buch (more accurately Buovobuch, a German version of the Italian novel Historia di Buovo d’ Antona, 1508).
Of the literature on Levita may be mentioned: Y. Levi, Elia Levita und seine Leistungen als Grammatiker (Breslau, 1888); W. Bacher, “E. Levita’s wissenschaftliche Leistungen” in Z. d. D. M. G. xliii. (1889), p. 206-272.
Of the literature on Levita, the following can be mentioned: Y. Levi, Elia Levita und seine Leistungen als Grammatiker (Breslau, 1888); W. Bacher, “E. Levita’s wissenschaftliche Leistungen” in Z. d. D. M. G. xliii. (1889), p. 206-272.
ELIE, a village and watering-place of Fifeshire, Scotland, on the shore of the Firth of Forth. Pop. 687. It is 10 m. due S. of St Andrews, but 20 m. distant by the North British railway, which makes a great bend by following the coast. Though it retains some old houses, and the parish church dates from 1639, Elie is, as a whole, quite modern and is one of the most popular resorts in the county on account of its fine golf links and excellent bathing. The royal burgh of Earlsferry (pop. 317) is situated in the parish of Elie, which it adjoins on the west. Its charter, granted by Malcolm Canmore, having been burned, it was renewed by James VI. The chief structure is the town hall, which is modern but has an ancient steeple. The place derived its name from its use by the earls of Fife as a ferry to the opposite shore of Haddington, 8 m. distant. Macduff’s cave near Kincraig Point is believed traditionally to have been that in which the thane took refuge from Macbeth. Two and a half miles north is Balcarres House, belonging to the earl of Crawford, where Lady Anne Barnard (1750-1825) was born.
ELIE is a village and seaside resort in Fife, Scotland, located on the edge of the Firth of Forth. It has a population of 687. It's 10 miles directly south of St Andrews, but 20 miles away by the North British railway, which curves along the coast. While it still has some old buildings and its parish church dates back to 1639, Elie is generally quite modern and is one of the most popular vacation spots in the area because of its great golf courses and excellent swimming options. The royal burgh of Earlsferry (population 317) is located just west of Elie in the same parish. Its charter, originally granted by Malcolm Canmore, was lost in a fire and was later renewed by James VI. The main building is the town hall, which is modern but features an ancient steeple. The name comes from its historical use as a ferry crossing by the earls of Fife to the opposite shore at Haddington, which is 8 miles away. Macduff’s cave near Kincraig Point is traditionally believed to be where the thane sought refuge from Macbeth. Two and a half miles to the north is Balcarres House, which belongs to the Earl of Crawford, and is the birthplace of Lady Anne Barnard (1750-1825).
ÉLIE DE BEAUMONT, JEAN BAPTISTE ARMAND LOUIS LÉONCE (1798-1874), French geologist, was born at Canon, in Calvados, on the 25th of September 1798. He was educated at the Lycée Henri IV. where he took the first prize in mathematics and physics; at the École Polytechnique, where he stood first at the exit examination in 1819; and at the École des Mines (1819-1822), where he began to show a decided preference for the science with which his name is associated. In 1823 he was selected along with Dufrénoy by Brochant de Villiers, the professor of geology in the École des Mines, to accompany him on a scientific tour to England and Scotland, in order to inspect the mining and metallurgical establishments of the country, and to study the principles on which Greenough’s geological map of England (1820) had been prepared, with a view to the construction of a similar map of France. In 1835 he was appointed professor of geology at the École des Mines, in succession to Brochant de Villiers, whose assistant he had been in the duties of the chair since 1827. He held the office of engineer-in-chief of mines in France from 1833 until 1847, when he was appointed inspector-general; and in 1861 he became vice-president of the Conseil-Général des Mines and a grand officer of the Legion of Honour. His growing scientific reputation secured his election to the membership of the Academy of Berlin, of the Academy of Sciences of France and of the Royal Society of London. By a decree of the president he was made a senator of France in 1852, and on the death of Arago (1853) he was chosen perpetual secretary of the Academy of Sciences. Élie de Beaumont’s name is widely known to geologists in connexion with his theory of the origin of mountain ranges, first propounded in a paper read to the Academy of Sciences in 1829, and afterwards elaborated in his Notice sur le système des montagnes (3 vols., 1852). According to his view, all mountain ranges parallel to the same great circle of the earth are of strictly contemporaneous origin, and between the great circles a relation of symmetry exists in the form of a pentagonal réseau. An elaborate statement and criticism of the theory was given in his anniversary address to the Geological Society of London in 1853 by William Hopkins (Quart. Journ. Geol. Soc.). The theory has not found general acceptance, but it proved of great value to geological science, owing to the extensive additions to the knowledge of the structure of mountain ranges which its author made in endeavouring to find facts to support it. Probably, however, the best service Élie de Beaumont rendered to science was in connexion with the geological map of France, in the preparation of which he had the leading share. During this period Élie de Beaumont published many important memoirs on the geology of the country. After his superannuation at the École des Mines he continued to superintend the issue of the detailed maps almost until his death, 273 which occurred at Canon on the 21st of September 1874. His academic lectures for 1843-1844 were published in 2 vols., 1845-1849, under the title Leçons de géologie pratique.
ÉLIE DE BEAUMONT, JEAN BAPTISTE ARMAND LOUIS LÉONCE (1798-1874), a French geologist, was born in Canon, Calvados, on September 25, 1798. He was educated at Lycée Henri IV, where he won the top prize in mathematics and physics; at École Polytechnique, where he ranked first in the exit exam in 1819; and at École des Mines (1819-1822), where he began to show a clear preference for the field of study associated with his name. In 1823, he was chosen alongside Dufrénoy by Brochant de Villiers, the geology professor at École des Mines, to join him on a scientific tour of England and Scotland to examine the country's mining and metallurgical facilities and to study how Greenough’s geological map of England (1820) was created, with the goal of creating a similar map for France. In 1835, he was appointed professor of geology at École des Mines, succeeding Brochant de Villiers, whose assistant he had been since 1827. He served as chief mining engineer in France from 1833 until 1847, when he became inspector-general; and in 1861, he was named vice-president of the Conseil-Général des Mines and became a grand officer of the Legion of Honour. His growing scientific reputation led to his election to the Academy of Berlin, the Academy of Sciences of France, and the Royal Society of London. In 1852, by presidential decree, he was made a senator of France, and after Arago's death in 1853, he was appointed perpetual secretary of the Academy of Sciences. Élie de Beaumont is well-known among geologists for his theory on the origin of mountain ranges, first presented in a paper to the Academy of Sciences in 1829 and later expanded in his Notice sur le système des montagnes (3 vols., 1852). He proposed that all mountain ranges parallel to the same major circle of the Earth have a strictly contemporaneous origin, and that between these major circles, a symmetrical relationship exists in the shape of a pentagonal réseau. William Hopkins gave a detailed statement and critique of the theory in his anniversary address to the Geological Society of London in 1853 (Quart. Journ. Geol. Soc). The theory hasn't achieved widespread acceptance, but it greatly benefited geological science due to the extensive insights into mountain range structures that its author gathered while trying to find supporting evidence. Perhaps the most significant contribution Élie de Beaumont made to science was his key role in creating the geological map of France. During this time, he published many important papers on the geology of the country. After retiring from École des Mines, he continued to oversee the production of the detailed maps almost until his death, 273 which occurred in Canon on September 21, 1874. His academic lectures for 1843-1844 were published in 2 vols., 1845-1849, under the title Leçons de géologie pratique.
A list of his works was published in the Ann. des Mines, vol. vii. 1875. P. 259.
A list of his works was published in the Ann. des Mines, vol. vii. 1875. P. 259.
ELIJAH (a Hebrew name meaning “Yah[weh] is God”), in the Bible, the greatest and sternest of the Hebrew prophets, makes his appearance in the narrative of the Old Testament with an abruptness not out of keeping with his character and work (1 Kings xvii. 1).1 The first and most important part of his career lay in the reign of Ahab, i.e. during the first half of the 9th century B.C. He is introduced as predicting the drought2 God was to send upon Israel as a punishment for the apostasy into which Ahab had been led by his heathen wife Jezebel. During the first portion of this period Elijah found a refuge by the brook Cherith, “before the Jordan.” This description leaves it uncertain whether the brook was to the east of Jordan in Elijah’s native Gilead, or—less probably—to the west in Samaria. Here he drank of the brook and was fed by ravens, who night and morning brought him bread and flesh.3 When this had dried up, the prophet betook himself to Zarephath, a Phoenician town near Sidon. At the gate of the town he met the widow to whom he had been sent, gathering sticks for the preparation of what she believed was to be her last meal. She received the prophet with hospitality, sharing with him her all but exhausted store, in faith of his promise in the name of the God of Israel that the supply would not fail so long as the drought lasted. During this period her son died and was miraculously restored to life in answer to the prayers of the prophet (1 Kings xvii. 8-24).
ELIJAH (a Hebrew name meaning “Yah[weh] is God”), in the Bible, is known as the greatest and most serious of the Hebrew prophets. He first appears in the Old Testament narrative rather suddenly, which fits his character and mission (1 Kings xvii. 1).1 The most significant part of his life occurred during the reign of Ahab, specifically in the first half of the 9th century BCE He is introduced as someone who predicts the drought that God would send upon Israel as punishment for the idolatry that Ahab’s pagan wife Jezebel led him into. In the early part of this time, Elijah found shelter by the brook Cherith, “before the Jordan.” It’s unclear whether this brook was east of the Jordan in Elijah’s home region of Gilead or—less likely—west in Samaria. While there, he drank from the brook and was fed by ravens, who brought him bread and meat each morning and evening.2 When the brook dried up, the prophet went to Zarephath, a Phoenician town near Sidon. At the town gate, he met a widow who was gathering sticks, believing she was preparing her last meal. She welcomed the prophet, sharing her nearly depleted supplies in faith of his promise from the God of Israel that her supplies would not run out as long as the drought continued. During this time, her son died and was miraculously brought back to life in response to the prophet's prayers (1 Kings xvii. 8-24).
Elijah emerged from his retirement in the third year, when, the famine having reached its worst, Ahab and his minister Obadiah had themselves to search the land for provender for the royal stables. To the latter Elijah suddenly appeared, and announced his intention of showing himself to Ahab. The king met Elijah with the reproach that he was “the troubler of Israel,” which the prophet boldly flung back upon him who had forsaken the commandments of the Lord and followed the Baalim.4 The retort was accompanied by a challenge—or rather a command—to the king to assemble on Mount Carmel “all Israel” and the four hundred and fifty prophets of Baal. (The four hundred prophets of Asherah have been added later.) From the allusion to an “altar of Jehovah that was broken down” (1 Kings xviii. 30) it has been inferred that Carmel was an ancient sacred place. (On Mount Carmel and Elijah’s connexion with it in history and tradition see Carmel.)
Elijah came out of retirement in the third year, when the famine had reached its peak and Ahab and his servant Obadiah were searching the land for food for the royal stables. Elijah suddenly appeared to Obadiah and said he intended to show himself to Ahab. The king confronted Elijah, accusing him of being “the troubler of Israel,” which the prophet boldly threw back at Ahab, pointing out that he had abandoned the commandments of the Lord and followed the Baals. The response came with a challenge—or rather a command—for the king to gather “all Israel” and the four hundred and fifty prophets of Baal on Mount Carmel. (The four hundred prophets of Asherah were added later.) The mention of an “altar of Jehovah that was broken down” (1 Kings xviii. 30) suggests that Carmel was an ancient holy site. (For more on Mount Carmel and Elijah’s connection to it in history and tradition, see Carmel.)
The scene on Carmel is perhaps the grandest in the life of Elijah, or indeed in the whole of the Old Testament. As a typical embodiment for all time of the conflict between superstition and true religion, it is lifted out of the range of mere individual biography into that of spiritual symbolism, and it has accordingly furnished at once a fruitful theme for the religious teacher and a lofty inspiration for the artist. The false prophets were allowed to invoke their god in whatever manner they pleased. The only interruption came in the mocking encouragement of Elijah (1 Kings xviii. 27), a rare instance of grim sarcastic humour occurring in the Bible. Its effect upon the false prophets was to increase their frenzy. The evening came,5 and the god had made no sign. Elijah now stepped forward with the quiet confidence and dignity that became the prophet and representative of the true God. All Israel is represented symbolically in the twelve stones with which he built the altar; and the water which he poured upon the sacrifice and into the surrounding trench was apparently designed to prevent the suspicion of fraud! In striking contrast to the “vain repetitions” of the false prophets are the simple words with which Elijah makes his prayer to Yahweh. Once only, with the calm assurance of one who knew that his prayer would be answered, he invokes the God of his fathers. The answer comes at once: “The fire of the Lord (Gen. xix. 24, Lev. x. 2) fell and consumed the burnt offering, and the wood, and the stones, and the dust, and licked up the water that was in the trench.” So convincing a sign was irresistible; all the people fell on their faces and acknowledged Yahweh as the true God. This was immediately followed by the destruction of the false prophets, slain by Elijah beside the brook Kishon (xviii. 40). The deed, though not without parallel in the Old Testament history, stamps the peculiarly vindictive character of Elijah’s prophetic mission.6
The scene on Carmel is possibly the most dramatic moment in Elijah's life, or even in the entire Old Testament. It represents the enduring struggle between superstition and true faith, elevating it beyond simple personal storytelling into a powerful spiritual symbol. This moment has inspired both religious teachers and artists alike. The false prophets were allowed to call on their god however they wanted. The only interruption was Elijah's sarcastic taunts (1 Kings xviii. 27), a rare instance of dark humor in the Bible. This only fueled the false prophets’ frenzy. As evening approached, and with their god still silent, Elijah stepped forward with the calm confidence and dignity of a true prophet. The twelve stones he used to build the altar symbolized all of Israel, and the water he poured on the sacrifice and around the altar was likely meant to eliminate any suspicion of trickery! In stark contrast to the "empty chants" of the false prophets, Elijah’s simple prayer to Yahweh was powerful. He called upon the God of his ancestors once, fully confident that his prayer would be answered. The response was immediate: “The fire of the Lord (Gen. xix. 24, Lev. x. 2) fell and consumed the burnt offering, the wood, the stones, the dust, and even licked up the water in the trench.” Such a convincing sign was overwhelming; the people fell on their faces and acknowledged Yahweh as the true God. This was quickly followed by the execution of the false prophets, killed by Elijah beside the brook Kishon (xviii. 40). Though there are similar events in Old Testament history, this act emphasizes Elijah's particularly vengeful prophetic mission.6
On the evening of the day that had witnessed the decisive contest, Elijah proceeded once more to the top of Carmel, and there, with “his face between his knees” (possibly engaged in the prayer referred to in James v. 17 sq.), waited for the long-looked-for blessing. His servant, sent repeatedly to search the sky for signs, returned the seventh time reporting a little cloud arising out of the sea “like a man’s hand.” The sky was speedily full of clouds and a great rain was falling when Ahab, to escape the storm, set out in his chariot for Jezreel. As a proof of Elijah’s supernatural power, it is stated that the prophet, for some unknown object, ran before the chariot to the entrance of Jezreel, a distance of at least 16 m. On being told what had taken place, Jezebel sent a messenger to Elijah with a vow that ere another day had passed his life would be even as the lives of the prophets of Baal, and the threat was enough to cause him to take to instant flight (xix. 1-3; cp. LXX. in v. 2). The first stage of the journey was to Beersheba, on the southern limits of Judah. Here he left his servant (according to old Jewish tradition, the widow’s son of Zarephath, afterwards the prophet Jonah), and proceeded a day’s journey into the wilderness. Resting under a solitary broom bush (a kind of genista), he gave vent to his disappointment in a prayer for death. By another of those many miraculous interpositions which occur in his history he was twice supplied with food and drink, in the strength of which he journeyed forty days and forty nights until he came to Horeb, where he lodged in a cave.7 A hole “just large enough for a man’s body” (Stanley), immediately below the summit of Jebel Mūsa, is still pointed out by tradition as the cave of Elijah.
On the evening after the decisive battle, Elijah went back up to the top of Carmel and, with his “face between his knees” (likely engaged in the prayer mentioned in James v. 17 sq.), waited for the long-anticipated blessing. His servant, who was sent multiple times to check the sky for any signs, returned the seventh time with news of a small cloud rising from the sea “like a man’s hand.” The sky quickly filled with clouds, and a heavy rain began to fall as Ahab rushed off in his chariot to Jezreel to escape the storm. To show Elijah's supernatural power, it is noted that he ran ahead of the chariot to the entrance of Jezreel, covering at least 16 miles. When Jezebel heard what had happened, she sent a messenger to Elijah, vowing that by the next day, his life would be just like that of the prophets of Baal, and that threat was enough to make him flee immediately (xix. 1-3; cp. LXX. in v. 2). His first stop was Beersheba, at the southern edge of Judah. Here, he left his servant (who, according to old Jewish tradition, was the widow’s son of Zarephath and later became the prophet Jonah) and traveled a day’s journey into the wilderness. Resting under a solitary broom bush (a kind of genista), he expressed his disappointment by praying for death. Through another miraculous event in his life, he received food and drink twice, and with that strength, he journeyed for forty days and forty nights until he arrived at Horeb, where he took shelter in a cave. A hole “just large enough for a man’s body” (Stanley), located just below the summit of Jebel Mūsa, is still traditionally recognized as Elijah's cave.
If the scene on Carmel is the grandest, that on Horeb is spiritually the most profound in the story of Elijah (xix. 9 sqq.). Not in the strong wind that brake the rocks in pieces, not in the earthquake, not in the fire, but in the still small voice that followed the Lord made himself known. A threefold commission was laid upon him: he was to return to Damascus and anoint Hazael king of Syria; he was to anoint Jehu, the son of Nimshi, 274 as king of Israel in place of Ahab; and as his own successor in the prophetic office he was to anoint Elisha (xix. 15-18).8
If the scene on Carmel is the most spectacular, then Horeb is the most spiritually profound moment in the story of Elijah (xix. 9 sqq.). Not in the strong wind that shattered the rocks, not in the earthquake, not in the fire, but in the gentle whisper that followed, the Lord revealed Himself. He received a three-part mission: he was to return to Damascus and anoint Hazael as king of Syria; he was to anoint Jehu, the son of Nimshi, as king of Israel in place of Ahab; and he was to anoint Elisha as his successor in the prophetic office (xix. 15-18).
Leaving Horeb and proceeding northwards along the desert route to Damascus, Elijah met Elisha engaged at the plough probably near his native place, Abel-meholah, in the valley of the Jordan, and by the symbolical act of casting his mantle upon him, consecrated him to the prophetic office. This was the only command of the three which he fulfilled in person; the other two were carried out by his successor.9 After the call of Elisha the narrative contains no notice of Elijah for several years, although the LXX., by placing 1 Kings xxi. before ch. xx., proceeds at once to the tragic story of Naboth’s vineyard (see Jezebel). He is now the champion of freedom and purity of life, like Nathan when he confronted David for the murder of Uriah. Without any indication of whence or how he came, he again appeared, as usual with startling abruptness, in the vineyard when Ahab entered to take possession of it, and pronounced upon the king and his house that awful doom (1 Kings xxi. 17-24) which, though deferred for a time, was ultimately fulfilled to the letter (see Jehu).
Leaving Horeb and heading north along the desert route to Damascus, Elijah met Elisha, who was plowing—probably close to his hometown, Abel-meholah, in the Jordan Valley. By the symbolic act of throwing his cloak over him, Elijah dedicated Elisha to the prophetic role. This was the only command of the three that Elijah fulfilled in person; the other two were completed by his successor.9 After Elisha's call, the narrative doesn't mention Elijah for several years, although the LXX, by placing 1 Kings xxi. before ch. xx., directly leads into the tragic story of Naboth’s vineyard (see Jezebel). Elijah now stands as the defender of freedom and integrity, similar to Nathan when he confronted David about Uriah’s murder. Without any explanation of where he came from or how he arrived, he reappeared, as usual, in a startlingly abrupt manner in the vineyard when Ahab entered to take possession of it, and announced upon the king and his family that dreadful fate (1 Kings xxi. 17-24) which, though delayed for a while, was eventually fulfilled exactly (see Jehu).
With one more denunciation of the house of Ahab, Elijah’s function as a messenger of wrath was fully discharged (2 Kings i.). When Ahaziah, the son of Ahab, having injured himself by falling through a lattice, sent to inquire of Baal-zebub, the god of Ekron, whether he should recover, the prophet was commanded to appear to the messengers and tell them that, for this resort to a false god, the king should die. The effect of his appearance was such that they turned back without attempting to fulfil their errand. Ahaziah despatched a captain with a band of fifty to arrest him. They came upon Elijah seated on “the mount,”—probably Carmel. The imperious terms in which he was summoned to come down were punished by fire from heaven, which descended at the bidding of Elijah and consumed the whole land. A second captain and fifty were despatched, behaved in a similar way, and met the same fate. The leader of a third troop took a humbler tone, sued for mercy, and obtained it. Elijah then went with them to the king, but only to repeat before his face the doom he had already made known to his messengers, which was almost immediately afterwards fulfilled. The spirit, even the style of this narrative, points unmistakably to its being of late origin. It shocks the moral sense with its sanguinary character more than, perhaps, any other Old Testament story.
With one last condemnation of Ahab's house, Elijah’s role as a messenger of judgment was complete (2 Kings i.). When Ahaziah, Ahab’s son, injured himself by falling through a lattice, he sent messengers to ask Baal-zebub, the god of Ekron, if he would recover. The prophet was instructed to meet the messengers and tell them that because of this appeal to a false god, the king would die. As a result, the messengers turned back without delivering their message. Ahaziah then sent a captain with fifty men to arrest Elijah. They found Elijah sitting on “the mount,” likely Carmel. When they demanded that he come down in a commanding manner, fire from heaven came down at Elijah’s word and consumed the entire group. A second captain and his fifty met the same fate after behaving similarly. The leader of a third group approached with a more respectful tone, pleaded for mercy, and received it. Elijah then accompanied them to the king, but only to reiterate the judgment he had already communicated to his messengers, which was soon fulfilled. The tone and style of this account clearly suggest it was written later. Its violent nature is shocking to the moral sensibility, perhaps more so than any other story in the Old Testament.
The only mention of Elijah’s name in the book of Chronicles (2 Chronicles xxi. 12-15) is where he is represented as sending a letter of rebuke and denunciation to Jehoram, son of Jehoshaphat, king of Judah. The chronological difficulties which are involved suggest that the floating traditions of this great personality were easily attached to well-known names whether strictly contemporary or not. It was before the death of Jehoshaphat that the last grand scene in Elijah’s life occurred (2 Kings ii., see iii. 1). He had taken up his residence with Elisha at one of the prophetic guilds at Gilgal. His approaching end seems to have been known to the guilds at Bethel and Jericho, both of which they visited in their last journey. At the Jordan, Elijah, wrapping his prophet’s mantle together, smote the water with it, and so by a last miracle passed over on dry ground. When they had crossed the master desired the disciple to ask some parting blessing. The request for a double portion (i.e. probably a first-born’s portion, Deut. xxi. 17)10 of the prophet’s spirit Elijah characterized as a hard thing; but he promised to grant it if Elisha should see him when he was taken away. The end is told in words of simple sublimity: “And it came to pass, as they still went on and talked, that, behold, there appeared a chariot of fire, and horses of fire, which parted them both asunder; and Elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven” (2 Kings ii. 11). It is scarcely necessary to point out, however, that through the figure the narrative evidently means to convey as fact that Elijah passed from earth, not by the gates of death, but by miraculous translation. Such a supernatural close is in perfect harmony with a career into every stage of which the supernatural enters as an essential feature. For whatever explanation may be offered of the miraculous element in Elijah’s life, it must obviously be one that accounts not for a few miraculous incidents only, which might be mere excrescences, but for a series of miraculous events so closely connected and so continuous as to form the main thread of the history.
The only mention of Elijah’s name in the book of Chronicles (2 Chronicles 21:12-15) is where he is depicted as sending a letter of rebuke to Jehoram, the son of Jehoshaphat, king of Judah. The chronological issues involved suggest that the floating traditions about this significant figure could easily attach to well-known names, regardless of whether they were actually contemporary. The last major event in Elijah’s life happened before Jehoshaphat's death (2 Kings 2, see 3:1). He had moved in with Elisha at one of the prophetic guilds in Gilgal. It seems that the guilds at Bethel and Jericho knew about his impending end, as they visited these places on their final journey together. At the Jordan, Elijah gathered his prophet’s mantle and struck the water with it, performing one last miracle to cross on dry ground. Once they crossed, Elijah asked Elisha to request a parting blessing. The request for a double portion (i.e., likely a firstborn’s portion, Deut. 21:17) of the prophet’s spirit was described by Elijah as a difficult thing; however, he promised to grant it if Elisha saw him when he was taken away. The conclusion is described with simple elegance: “And it came to pass, as they continued on and talked, that, behold, there appeared a chariot of fire, and horses of fire, which separated them both; and Elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven” (2 Kings 2:11). It’s important to highlight that the narrative clearly intends to convey that Elijah left the earth, not through death, but by miraculous translation. Such a supernatural ending aligns perfectly with a life where the supernatural is a key element. No matter the explanation for the miraculous aspects of Elijah’s life, it must account for more than just a few miraculous incidents, which could be seen as mere outliers, but for a series of miraculous events that are so interconnected and continuous that they form the central thread of his story.
Elijah occupied an altogether peculiar place in later Jewish history and tradition. For the general belief that he should return for the restoration of Israel cf. Mal. iv. 5-6; Matt. xi. 14, xvi. 14; Luke ix. 8; John i. 21, and on the development of the thought see Bousset, Antichrist, s.v., and the Jewish Encyc. vol. v. p. 126. In Mahommedan tradition Elijah is the everlasting youthful el-Khidr or el-Khadir.
Elijah held a unique position in later Jewish history and tradition. There was a widespread belief that he would return for the restoration of Israel (see Mal. iv. 5-6; Matt. xi. 14, xvi. 14; Luke ix. 8; John i. 21). For more on the development of this idea, refer to Bousset, Antichrist, s.v., and the Jewish Encyc. vol. v. p. 126. In Islamic tradition, Elijah appears as the eternally youthful el-Khidr or el-Khadir.
Elijah is canonized both in the Greek and in the Latin Churches, his festival being kept in both on the 20th July—the date of his ascension in the nineteenth year of Jehoshaphat, according to Cornelius a Lapide. The natural and most reliable estimate of the career of Elijah is that which is based upon a critical examination of the narratives; see, in addition to Robertson Smith, Prophets of Israel(²), pp. 75 sqq., Cheyne, Hallowing of Criticism, the articles by Addis in Encyc. Bib., and J. Strachan, Hastings’ Dict. Bib., H. Gunkel, Elias, Yahve u. Baal (Tübingen, 1906), the literature to Kings, Books of, and the histories referred to in Jews. There is difference of opinion as to the historical importance of both Elijah and Elisha; for a useful summary of views, as also for fuller bibliographical information, see W.R. Harper, Amos and Hosea (Internat. Crit. Comm.), pp. xxxiv.-xlix., and article Hebrew Religion.
Elijah is honored as a saint in both the Greek and Latin Churches, with his feast day celebrated on July 20th—the date of his ascension in the nineteenth year of Jehoshaphat, according to Cornelius a Lapide. The most reliable way to assess Elijah's career is through a critical analysis of the narratives; in addition to Robertson Smith, see Prophets of Israel(²), pp. 75 sqq., Cheyne, Hallowing of Criticism, the articles by Addis in Encyc. Bib., J. Strachan, Hastings’ Dict. Bib., H. Gunkel, Elias, Yahve u. Baal (Tübingen, 1906), the literature to Kings, Books of, and the histories mentioned in Jews. There is a difference of opinion regarding the historical significance of both Elijah and Elisha; for a useful summary of perspectives, as well as more extensive bibliographical information, see W.R. Harper, Amos and Hosea (Internat. Crit. Comm.), pp. xxxiv.-xlix., and article Hebrew Religion.
1 The text is uncertain. According to the LXX., he was a native of Tishbeh in Gilead; a more natural reading. Klostermann’s conjecture that the original name of his home was Jabesh-Gilead is attractive but unnecessary. His appearance in the narrative, like Melchizedek, “without father, without mother” (Heb. vii. 3), gave rise to various rabbinical traditions, such as that he was Phinehas, the grandson of Aaron, returned to earth, or that he was an angel in human form.
1 The text is unclear. According to the LXX, he was from Tishbeh in Gilead, which makes more sense. Klostermann’s idea that his original home was Jabesh-Gilead is appealing but not needed. His appearance in the story, like Melchizedek, “without father, without mother” (Heb. vii. 3), led to various rabbinical traditions, such as the belief that he was Phinehas, the grandson of Aaron, returned to earth, or that he was an angel in human form.
2 Its duration is vaguely stated; from Luke iv. 25, James v. 17, we learn that it lasted three years and a half; but according to Phoenician tradition (Jos. Ant. viii. 13. 2) only one year.
2 Its length is somewhat unclear; from Luke iv. 25 and James v. 17, we find out that it lasted three and a half years; but according to Phoenician tradition (Jos. Ant. viii. 13. 2) it lasted only one year.
3 The rationalistic view that the word translated “ravens” should be “Arabians” is improbable. Cheyne’s suggestion that the unknown brook Cherith should be placed to the south of Judah agrees with Josephus (Ant. viii. 13. 2, “he departed into the southern parts”) and with 1 Kings xix. 3, 8; “Jordan” may refer to another river, if it be not a gloss; see Cheyne, Ency. Bib., s.v. “Cherith.”
3 The logical argument that the word translated as “ravens” should actually mean “Arabians” is unlikely. Cheyne’s suggestion that the unknown brook Cherith should be located south of Judah aligns with Josephus (Ant. viii. 13. 2, “he went to the southern regions”) and with 1 Kings xix. 3, 8; “Jordan” might refer to a different river, unless it's just a note; see Cheyne, Ency. Bib., s.v. “Cherith.”
4 The sudden introduction of Elijah in xvii. 1 may be accounted for by the supposition that the commencement of the narrative had been omitted by the editor of xvi. 29 sqq. Hence we are not told the cause of Ahab’s hostility towards Elijah, nor is the allusion to Jezebel’s massacre of the prophets (xviii. 3, 13) explained. It would appear from Obadiah’s words in ver. 9 that he himself was in fear of his life. Later tradition supposed he was the captain of 2 Kings i. 13, or that the widow of 2 Kings iv. 1 had been his wife.
4 The sudden introduction of Elijah in xvii. 1 can be explained by the idea that the beginning of the story was left out by the editor of xvi. 29 sqq. As a result, we don’t know why Ahab is hostile towards Elijah, nor is there any explanation for Jezebel's massacre of the prophets (xviii. 3, 13). It seems from Obadiah’s words in ver. 9 that he himself was afraid for his life. Later traditions suggested he was the captain mentioned in 2 Kings i. 13, or that the widow from 2 Kings iv. 1 was his wife.
5 The definition of time by the stated oblation (xviii. 29, 36) is very noteworthy (cp. 2 Kings iii. 20).
5 The definition of time by the stated offering (xviii. 29, 36) is very significant (see 2 Kings iii. 20).
6 It is obvious that a purely rationalistic interpretation of the great sign whereby Jahweh manifested himself would be out of place. But there is an interesting parallel in the legend of the kindling of the sacred fire and the igniting of the “thick water” in the time of Nehemiah (2 Macc. i. 18-36). Elsewhere, there were sacred fires kindled by the aid of magical invocations (e.g. Hypaepa, Pausanias v. 27. 3).
6 It's clear that interpreting the great sign of how Jahweh revealed himself solely through reason would be inappropriate. However, there's an intriguing parallel in the story of starting the sacred fire and igniting the “thick water” during Nehemiah's time (2 Macc. i. 18-36). In other instances, sacred fires were lit with the help of magical invocations (e.g. Hypaepa, Pausanias v. 27. 3).
7 Yahweh is here supposed to have his seat on the ancient mountain. “It was the God of the Exodus to whom he appealed, the ancient King of Israel in the journeyings through the wilderness.” For the cave, cp. Ex. xxxiii. 22.
7 Yahweh is believed to have his throne on the ancient mountain. “It was the God of the Exodus that he called upon, the ancient King of Israel during the wanderings in the wilderness.” For the cave, see Ex. xxxiii. 22.
8 The theophany is clearly no rebuke to an impatient prophet, nor a lesson that the kingdom of heaven was to be built up by the slow and gentle operation of spiritual forces. It expresses the spirituality of Yahweh in a way that indicates a marked advance in the conception of his nature. See Skinner, Century Bible, “Kings,” ad loc.
8 The theophany is definitely not a reprimand to an impatient prophet, nor is it a lesson that the kingdom of heaven should be established through the gradual and gentle influence of spiritual forces. It showcases the spirituality of Yahweh in a way that represents a significant progression in understanding his nature. See Skinner, Century Bible, “Kings,” ad loc.
9 The geographical indications imply that in one account the journey to Damascus and the anointing of Hazael and Jehu must have intervened, and were omitted because another account ascribed these acts to Elisha (2 Kings viii. ix.). In the latter we possess a more historical account of the anointing of Jehu, and Robertson Smith observes: “When the history in 1 Kings represents Elijah as personally commissioned to inaugurate [the revolution] by anointing Jehu and Hazael as well as Elisha, we see that the author’s design is to gather up the whole contest between Yahweh and Baal in an ideal picture of Elijah and his work” (Ency. Brit. (9) art. Kings, vol. xiv. p. 85).
9 The geographical indicators suggest that, in one narrative, the journey to Damascus and the anointing of Hazael and Jehu must have taken place and were left out because another narrative attributed these events to Elisha (2 Kings viii. ix.). In the latter, we have a more historical account of the anointing of Jehu, and Robertson Smith points out: “When the story in 1 Kings shows Elijah as personally tasked with starting [the revolution] by anointing Jehu and Hazael as well as Elisha, we see that the author's intention is to summarize the entire conflict between Yahweh and Baal in an idealized depiction of Elijah and his mission” (Ency. Brit. (9) art. Kings, vol. xiv. p. 85).
ELIJAH WILNA, or Elijah ben Solomon, best known as the Gaon Elijah of Wilna (1720-1797), a noted Talmudist who hovered between the new and the old schools of thought. Orthodox in practice and feeling, his critical treatment of the rabbinic literature prepared the way for the scientific investigations of the 19th century. As a teacher he was one of the first to discriminate between the various strata in rabbinic records; to him was due the revival of interest in the older Midrash (q.v.) and in the Palestinian Talmud (q.v.), interest in which had been weak for some centuries before his time. He was an ascetic, and was a keen opponent of the emotional mysticism which was known as the new Hassidism.
ELIJAH WILNA, or Elijah Solomon, best known as the Elijah of Vilna (1720-1797), was a prominent Talmud scholar who navigated between traditional and modern ideas. He was orthodox in his practices and beliefs, and his critical approach to rabbinic literature paved the way for the scientific studies of the 19th century. As a teacher, he was among the first to differentiate between the various layers in rabbinic texts; his work sparked renewed interest in the older Midrash (q.v.) and the Palestinian Talmud (q.v.), which had seen a decline in interest for several centuries prior to his era. He lived a life of asceticism and was a strong critic of the emotional mysticism associated with the new Hassidism.
See S. Schechter’s Studies in Judaism (London, 1896). His voluminous writings are classified in the Jewish Encyclopedia, v. 134.
See S. Schechter’s Studies in Judaism (London, 1896). His extensive writings are categorized in the Jewish Encyclopedia, vol. 134.
ELIOT, CHARLES WILLIAM (1834- ), American educationalist, the son of Samuel Atkins Eliot (1798-1862), mayor of Boston, representative in Congress, and in 1842-1853 treasurer of Harvard, was born in Boston on the 20th of March 1834. He graduated in 1853 at Harvard College, where he was successively tutor (1854-1858) and assistant professor of chemistry (1858-1863). He studied chemistry and foreign educational methods in Europe in 1863-1865, was professor of analytical chemistry in the newly established Massachusetts Institute of Technology (1865-1869), although absent fourteen months in Europe in 1867-1868; and in 1869 was elected president of Harvard University, a choice remarkable at once for his youth and his being a layman and scientist. With Johns Hopkins University, Harvard, in his presidency, led in the work of efficient graduate schools. Its elective system, which has spread far, although not originated by President Eliot, was thoroughly established by him, and is only one of many radical changes which he championed with great success. The raising of entrance requirements, which led to a corresponding raising of the standards of secondary schools, and the introduction of an 275 element of choice in these entrance requirements, which allowed a limited election of studies to secondary pupils, became national tendencies primarily through President Eliot’s potent influence. As chairman of a national Committee of Ten (1890) on secondary school studies, he urged the abandonment of brief disconnected “information” courses, the correlation of subjects taught, the equal rank in college requirements of subjects in which equal time, consecutiveness and concentration were demanded, and a more thorough study of English composition; and to a large degree he secured national sanction for these reforms and their working out by experts into a practicable and applicable system. He laboured to unify the entire educational system, minimize prescription, cast out monotony, and introduce freedom and enthusiasm; and he emphasized the need of special training for special work. He was first to suggest (1894) co-operation by colleges in holding common entrance examinations throughout the country, and it was largely through his efforts that standards were so approximated that this became possible. He contended that secondary schools maintained by public funds should shape their courses for the benefit of students whose education goes no further than such high schools, and not be mere training schools for the universities. His success as administrator and man of affairs and as an educational reformer made him one of the great figures of his time, in whose opinions on any topic the deepest interest was felt throughout the country. In November 1908 he resigned the presidency of Harvard, and retired from the position early in 1909, when he was succeeded by Professor Abbott Lawrence Lowell. In December 1908 he was elected president of the National Civil Service Reform League.
ELIOT, CHARLES WILLIAM (1834- ), American educator, the son of Samuel Atkins Eliot (1798-1862), who was the mayor of Boston, a congressman, and served as the treasurer of Harvard from 1842 to 1853, was born in Boston on March 20, 1834. He graduated from Harvard College in 1853, where he later worked as a tutor (1854-1858) and then as an assistant professor of chemistry (1858-1863). From 1863 to 1865, he studied chemistry and educational systems in Europe before becoming a professor of analytical chemistry at the newly founded Massachusetts Institute of Technology (1865-1869), although he spent fourteen months in Europe during 1867-1868. In 1869, he was elected president of Harvard University, notable for both his youth and the fact that he was a layman and a scientist. Under his presidency, Harvard and Johns Hopkins University led significant advancements in graduate education. While he did not create the elective system, which spread widely, he established it firmly at Harvard, among many other major reforms he successfully advocated for. He raised entrance requirements, which consequently elevated the standards of secondary schools, and introduced some flexibility in these entrance criteria, allowing high school students limited choices in their studies. These ideas became national trends largely due to President Eliot’s strong influence. As chair of a national Committee of Ten (1890) on secondary school studies, he pushed for the end of short, separate “information” courses, advocated for connected subject matter, ensured that subjects requiring equal time and focus had equal college admission requirements, and promoted deeper study of English composition. He succeeded in gaining national approval for these reforms and their implementation by experts into a practical system. Eliot worked to unify the educational system, reduce rigidity, eliminate monotony, and foster freedom and enthusiasm in learning; he stressed the importance of specialized training for specific careers. In 1894, he was the first to propose that colleges collaborate on common entrance exams nationwide, and through his efforts, standards were aligned enough to make this feasible. He argued that publicly funded secondary schools should tailor their courses to serve students who do not continue to higher education rather than simply preparing them for universities. His achievements as an administrator, reformer, and educational leader made him one of the prominent figures of his era, with his views on various topics garnering national attention. In November 1908, he resigned from the presidency of Harvard and stepped down from the role in early 1909, being succeeded by Professor Abbott Lawrence Lowell. In December 1908, he was elected president of the National Civil Service Reform League.
His writings include The Happy Life (1896); Five American Contributions to Civilization, and Other Essays and Addresses (1897); Educational Reform, Essays and Addresses 1869-1897 (1898); More Money for the Public Schools (1903); Four American Leaders (1906), chapters on Franklin, Washington, Channing and Emerson; University Administration (1908); and with F.H. Storer, a Compendious Manual of Qualitative Chemical Analysis (Boston, 1869; many times reissued and revised). His annual reports as President of Harvard were notable contributions to the literature of education in America, and he delivered numerous public addresses, many of which have been reprinted.
His writings include The Happy Life (1896); Five American Contributions to Civilization, and Other Essays and Addresses (1897); Educational Reform, Essays and Addresses 1869-1897 (1898); More Money for the Public Schools (1903); Four American Leaders (1906), chapters on Franklin, Washington, Channing, and Emerson; University Administration (1908); and with F.H. Storer, a Compendious Manual of Qualitative Chemical Analysis (Boston, 1869; many times reissued and revised). His annual reports as President of Harvard were significant contributions to the education literature in America, and he gave many public speeches, a lot of which have been reprinted.
See “President Eliot’s Administration,” by different hands, a summary of his work at Harvard in 1869-1894, in The Harvard Graduates’ Magazine, vol. 2, pp. 449-504 (Boston, Mass., 1894); and E. Kuhnemann, Charles W. Eliot, President of Harvard (Boston, 1909).
See “President Eliot’s Administration,” by various authors, a summary of his work at Harvard from 1869 to 1894, in The Harvard Graduates’ Magazine, vol. 2, pp. 449-504 (Boston, Mass., 1894); and E. Kuhnemann, Charles W. Eliot, President of Harvard (Boston, 1909).
His son, Charles Eliot (1859-1897), graduated at Harvard in 1882, studied landscape architecture at the Bussey Institution of Harvard and in Europe, successfully urged the incorporation of the Massachusetts Trustees of Public Reservations (1891) and of the Metropolitan Park Commission (1892) of Boston, became landscape architect to the Metropolitan Park Commission in 1892, and in 1893, with F.L. Olmsted and J.C. Olmsted, formed the firm of Olmsted, Olmsted & Eliot, which was employed by the Metropolitan Commission. His life was written by his father, Charles Eliot, Landscape Architect (Boston, 1902).
His son, Charles Eliot (1859-1897), graduated from Harvard in 1882, studied landscape architecture at the Bussey Institution of Harvard and in Europe, successfully advocated for the establishment of the Massachusetts Trustees of Public Reservations (1891) and the Metropolitan Park Commission (1892) of Boston, became the landscape architect for the Metropolitan Park Commission in 1892, and in 1893, along with F.L. Olmsted and J.C. Olmsted, founded the firm of Olmsted, Olmsted & Eliot, which was hired by the Metropolitan Commission. His life was documented by his father in Charles Eliot, Landscape Architect (Boston, 1902).
ELIOT, GEORGE, the pen-name of the famous English writer, née Mary Ann (or Marian) Evans (1819-1880), afterwards Mrs J.W. Cross, born at Arbury Farm, in Warwickshire, on the 22nd of November 1819. Her father, Robert Evans, was the agent of Mr Francis Newdigate, and the first twenty-one years of the great novelist’s life were spent on the Arbury estate. She received an ordinary education at respectable schools till the age of seventeen, when her mother’s death, and the marriage of her elder sister, called her home in the character of housekeeper. This, though it must have sharpened her sense, already too acute, of responsibility, was an immense advantage to her mind, and, later, to her career, for, delivered from the tiresome routine of lessons and class-work, she was able to work without pedantic interruptions at German, Italian and music, and to follow her unusually good taste in reading. The life, inasmuch as she was a girl still in her teens, was no doubt monotonous, even unhappy. Just as Cardinal Newman felt, with such different results, the sadness and chain of evangelical influences from his boyhood till the end of his days, so Marian Evans was subdued all through her youth by a severe religious training which, while it pinched her mind and crushed her spirit, attracted her idealism by the very hardness of its perfect counsels. It is not surprising to find, therefore, that when Mr Evans moved to Coventry in 1841, and so enlarged the circle of their acquaintance, she became much interested in some new friends, Mr and Mrs Charles Bray and Mr Charles Hennell. Mr Bray had literary taste and wrote works on the Education of the Feelings, the Philosophy of Necessity, and the like. Mr Hennell had published in 1838 An Enquiry concerning the Origin of Christianity. Miss Evans, then twenty-two, absorbed immediately these unexpected, and, at that time, daring habits of thought. So compelling was the atmosphere that it led to a complete change in her opinions. Kind in her affection, she was relentless in argument. She refused to go to church (for some time, at least), wrote painful letters to a former governess—the pious Miss Lewis—and barely avoided an irremediable quarrel with her father, a churchman of the old school. Here was rebellion indeed. But rebels come, for the most part, from the provinces where petty tyranny, exercised by small souls, show the scheme of the universe on the meanest possible scale. George Eliot was never orthodox again; she abandoned, with fierce determination, every creed, and although she passed, later, through various phases, she remained incessantly a rationalist in matters of faith and in all other matters. It is nevertheless true that she wrote admirably about religion and religious persons. She had learnt the evangelical point of view; she knew—none better—the strength of religious motives; vulgar doubts of this fact were as distasteful to her as they were to another eminent writer, to whom she refers in one of her letters (dated 1853) as “a Mr Huxley, who was the centre of interest” at some “agreeable evening.” Her books abound in tributes to Christian virtue, and one of her own favourite characters was Dinah Morris in Adam Bede.
ELIOT, GEORGE, the pen name of the famous English writer, née Mary Ann (or Marian) Evans (1819-1880), later Mrs. J.W. Cross, was born at Arbury Farm in Warwickshire on November 22, 1819. Her father, Robert Evans, was the agent for Mr. Francis Newdigate, and the first twenty-one years of her life were spent on the Arbury estate. She got a normal education at respectable schools until she turned seventeen. After her mother passed away and her older sister got married, she returned home to take on the role of housekeeper. Although this increased her already sharp sense of responsibility, it also greatly benefited her intellect and later her career. Free from the tedious routine of lessons and classwork, she could focus on studying German, Italian, and music, and explore her excellent taste in reading. Her life, being a teenage girl, must have been monotonous, and likely unhappy at times. Just as Cardinal Newman experienced the sadness and constraints of evangelical influences throughout his life, Marian Evans was affected by a strict religious upbringing that stifled her mind and spirit but also fueled her idealism through its harsh principles. It's no surprise that when Mr. Evans moved to Coventry in 1841 and expanded their social circle, she became intrigued by new friends like Mr. and Mrs. Charles Bray and Mr. Charles Hennell. Mr. Bray had literary taste and wrote works on the Education of the Feelings, the Philosophy of Necessity, and similar topics. Mr. Hennell published An Enquiry concerning the Origin of Christianity in 1838. At twenty-two, Miss Evans quickly absorbed these unexpected and audacious ideas. The atmosphere was so compelling that it caused a complete shift in her beliefs. While she was kind in her affections, she was relentless in her arguments. For a while, she refused to go to church, wrote uncomfortable letters to a former governess, the devout Miss Lewis, and almost had an irreparable falling out with her father, a traditional churchman. This was indeed rebellion. Typically, rebels come from smaller places where petty tyranny demonstrates a limited view of the world. George Eliot never returned to orthodox beliefs; she fiercely rejected every creed, and despite later exploring various viewpoints, she consistently remained a rationalist in matters of faith and beyond. Yet, it's true that she wrote beautifully about religion and religious figures. She had learned the evangelical perspective; she understood—better than anyone—the strength of religious motives. Any doubts about this fact were as unpleasant to her as they were to another well-known writer, whom she mentioned in a letter (dated 1853) as “a Mr. Huxley, who was the center of interest” at a “pleasant evening.” Her works are full of praises for Christian virtues, and one of her favorite characters was Dinah Morris in Adam Bede.
She undertook, about the beginning of 1844, the translation of Strauss’s Leben Jesu. This work, published in 1846, was considered scholarly, but it met, in the nature of things, with no popular success. On the death of Mr Evans in 1849, she went abroad for some time, and we hear of no more literary ventures till 1851, when she accepted the assistant-editorship of the Westminster Review. For a while she had lodgings at the offices of that publication in the Strand, London. She wrote several notable papers, and became acquainted with many distinguished authors of that period—among them Herbert Spencer, Carlyle, Harriet Martineau, Francis Newman and George Henry Lewes. Her friendship with the last-named led to a closer relationship which she regarded as a marriage. Among the many criticisms passed upon this step (in view of the fact, among other considerations, that Lewes had a wife living at the time), no one has denied her courage in defying the law, or questioned the quality of her tact in a singularly false position. That she felt the deepest affection for Lewes is evident; that we owe the development of her genius to his influence and constant sympathy is all but certain. Yet it is also sure that what she gained from his intimate companionship was heavily paid for in the unceasing consciousness that most people thought her guilty of a grave mistake, and found her written words, with their endorsement of traditional morality, wholly at variance with the circumstances of her private life. Doubts of her suffering in this respect will be at once dismissed after a study of her journal and letters. Stilted and unnatural as these are to a tragic degree, one can read well enough between the lines, and also in the elaborate dedication of each manuscript to “my husband” (in terms of the strongest love), that self-repression, coupled with audacity, does not make for peace. Her sensitiveness to criticism was extreme; a flippant paragraph or an illiterate review with regard to her work actually affected her for days. The whole history of her union with Lewes is a complete illustration of the force of sheer will—in that case partly her own and not inconsiderably his—over a nature essentially unfitted for a bold stand against attacks. At first she and the man whom she had described “as a sort of miniature 276 Mirabeau in appearance,” went abroad to Weimar and Berlin, but they returned to England the same year and settled, after several moves, in lodgings at East Sheen.
She started translating Strauss’s Leben Jesu around early 1844. This work, published in 1846, was seen as scholarly, but it naturally didn’t achieve any popular success. After Mr. Evans passed away in 1849, she spent some time abroad, and we don’t hear about any literary efforts from her until 1851, when she took the assistant editorship of the Westminster Review. For a while, she lived at the offices of that publication on the Strand in London. She wrote several notable articles and got to know many distinguished authors of that time—like Herbert Spencer, Carlyle, Harriet Martineau, Francis Newman, and George Henry Lewes. Her friendship with Lewes evolved into a closer relationship that she considered a marriage. Many criticized this step, particularly since Lewes had a wife at the time, but no one denied her bravery in challenging the law or questioned her tact in such a complicated situation. It’s clear that she had deep affection for Lewes, and it’s almost certain that his influence and constant support contributed to the growth of her genius. However, it’s also true that the closeness she shared with him came at the cost of always being aware that most people thought she made a serious mistake, and they found her written words, which supported traditional morality, totally inconsistent with her private life. Any doubts about her suffering in this regard vanish once you read her journal and letters. Although these writings are awkward and painfully unnatural, you can read between the lines, especially in the detailed dedication of each manuscript to "my husband" (with the strongest love), indicating that self-restraint, paired with boldness, doesn’t lead to peace. She was extremely sensitive to criticism; a sarcastic comment or a poorly-written review about her work could affect her for days. The entire story of her relationship with Lewes illustrates the power of sheer will—partly her own and also significantly his—over a nature that was fundamentally unsuited for a bold response to criticism. Initially, she and the man she described as “a sort of miniature Mirabeau in appearance” traveled to Weimar and Berlin, but they returned to England the same year, eventually settling in lodgings at East Sheen after several moves.
In 1854 she published The Essence of Christianity, a translation from Feuerbach, a philosopher to whom she had been introduced by Charles Bray. During 1855 she translated Spinoza’s Ethics, wrote articles for the Leader, the Westminster Review, and the Saturday Review—then a new thing. It was not until the following year that she attempted the writing of fiction, and produced The Sad Fortunes of the Reverend Amos Barton—the first of the Scenes of Clerical Life. These, published in Blackwood’s Magazine, were issued in two volumes in 1858. The press in general extended a languid welcome to this work, and although the author received much encouragement from private sources, notably from Charles Dickens, the critics were mostly non-committal, and it was not until the publication of Adam Bede in 1859 that enthusiasm was attracted to the quality of the earlier production. Adam Bede, in the judgment of many George Eliot’s masterpiece, met with a success (in her own words) “triumphantly beyond anything she had dreamed of.” In 1860 appeared The Mill on the Floss. After the sensational good fortune of Adam Bede, the criticism applied to the new novel seems to have been disappointing. We find Miss Evans telling her publisher that “she does not wish to see any newspaper articles.” But the book made its way, and prepared an ever-growing army of readers for Silas Marner (1861), Romola (1862-1863), and Felix Holt (1866).
In 1854, she published The Essence of Christianity, a translation of Feuerbach, a philosopher she had met through Charles Bray. During 1855, she translated Spinoza’s Ethics, wrote articles for the Leader, the Westminster Review, and the Saturday Review—which was relatively new at the time. It wasn't until the following year that she tried her hand at fiction and created The Sad Fortunes of the Reverend Amos Barton—the first of the Scenes of Clerical Life. These stories, published in Blackwood’s Magazine, came out in two volumes in 1858. The press generally gave this work a lukewarm reception, and while the author received significant support from private sources, especially Charles Dickens, critics were mostly indifferent. It wasn't until the release of Adam Bede in 1859 that people started to notice the quality of her earlier writing. Many considered Adam Bede to be George Eliot's masterpiece, achieving a success that, in her own words, was “triumphantly beyond anything she had dreamed of.” In 1860, The Mill on the Floss was published. Following the sensational success of Adam Bede, the criticism directed at the new novel was seemingly disappointing. We see Miss Evans telling her publisher that “she does not wish to see any newspaper articles.” However, the book found its audience and prepared a growing number of readers for Silas Marner (1861), Romola (1862-1863), and Felix Holt (1866).
Silas Marner shows a reversion to her early manner—the manner of Scenes of Clerical Life. Romola, which is what is called an historical novel, owes its vitality not to the portraits of Savonarola or of the heroine, or to its vigorous pictures of Florentine life in the 15th century, but to its superb presentment of the treacherous, handsome Tito Melema, who belongs not to any one period but to every generation. Felix Holt, a novel dealing with political questions, is strained by a painfulness too severe for any reader’s pleasure. Where other eminent authors have produced mechanical books, or books which were mere repetitions of their most popular effort, she erred only on the side of the ponderous and the distressing. Felix Holt is both, and it is the only one of her novels which lacks an unforgettable human note. The Spanish Gypsy (1868), a drama in blank verse, received more public response than most compositions of the kind executed by those connected with the drama or with poetry only; and she published in 1874 another volume of verses, The Legend of Jubal and other Poems.
Silas Marner reflects a return to her earlier style—the style of Scenes of Clerical Life. Romola, which is known as a historical novel, draws its energy not from the depictions of Savonarola or the heroine, or its vivid portrayals of 15th-century Florentine life, but from its brilliant representation of the deceitful, attractive Tito Melema, who isn't tied to any specific time period but resonates with every generation. Felix Holt, a novel focused on political themes, is weighed down by a discomfort that is too intense for any reader's enjoyment. While other notable authors have created formulaic books or simply repeated their most successful works, she only erred on the side of being heavy and distressing. Felix Holt embodies both traits, and it's the only one of her novels that lacks a memorable human touch. The Spanish Gypsy (1868), a play written in blank verse, received a better public reaction than most works of its kind produced by those only involved with drama or poetry; she also published another collection of poems, The Legend of Jubal and other Poems, in 1874.
Any depression which the author may have felt with regard to the faults found with some of the last-named books was completely cured by the praise bestowed on Middlemarch (1872). This profound study of certain types of English character was supreme at the time of its writing, and it remains supreme, of its school, in European literature. Thackeray is brilliant; Tolstoi is vivid to a point where life-likeness overwhelms any consideration of art; Balzac created a whole world; George Eliot did not create, but her exposition of the upper and middle class minds of her day is a masterpiece of scientific psychology. Daniel Deronda (1876), a production on the same lines, was less satisfactory. It exhibited the same human insight, the passionate earnestness, the insinuated special pleading for hard cases, the same intellectual strength, but the subject was unwieldy, almost forbidding, and, as a result, the novel, in spite of its distinction, has never been thoroughly liked. The death of Mr Lewes in 1878 was also the death-blow to her artistic vitality. She corrected the proofs of Theophrastus Such (a collection of essays), but she wrote no more. About two years later, however, she married Mr J.W. Cross, a gentleman whose friendship was especially congenial to a temperament so abnormally dependent on affectionate understanding as George Eliot’s. But she never really recovered from her shock at the loss of George Lewes, and died at 4 Cheyne Walk, Chelsea, on the 22nd of December 1880.
Any sadness the author may have felt about the criticisms of some of the previously mentioned books was completely lifted by the praise given to Middlemarch (1872). This deep examination of certain types of English character was the best of its time and continues to be a standout in European literature. Thackeray is brilliant; Tolstoy is so vivid that the realism overshadows any artistic consideration; Balzac created an entire world; George Eliot didn’t create, but her portrayal of the upper and middle-class minds of her era is a masterpiece of psychological analysis. Daniel Deronda (1876), which follows a similar approach, was less successful. It displayed the same human insight, passionate seriousness, implied advocacy for difficult cases, and intellectual strength, but the subject matter was cumbersome and almost daunting, making the novel, despite its merits, never fully appreciated. The death of Mr. Lewes in 1878 also dealt a significant blow to her artistic vitality. She corrected the proofs of Theophrastus Such (a collection of essays), but she wrote nothing more. About two years later, she married Mr. J.W. Cross, a man whose friendship was especially fitting for someone like George Eliot, whose temperament was extremely reliant on affectionate understanding. However, she never truly recovered from the shock of losing George Lewes and passed away at 4 Cheyne Walk, Chelsea, on December 22, 1880.
No right estimate of her, whether as a woman, an artist or a philosopher, can be formed without a steady recollection of her infinite capacity for mental suffering, and her need of human support. The statement that there is no sex in genius, is on the face of it, absurd. George Sand, certainly the most independent and dazzling of all women authors, neither felt, nor wrote, nor thought as a man. Saint Teresa, another great writer on a totally different plane, was pre-eminently feminine in every word and idea. George Eliot, less reckless, less romantic than the Frenchwoman, less spiritual than the Spanish saint, was more masculine in style than either; but her outlook was not, for a moment, the man’s outlook; her sincerity, with its odd reserves, was not quite the same as a man’s sincerity, nor was her humour that genial, broad, unequivocal humour which is peculiarly virile. Hers approximated, curiously enough, to the satire of Jane Austen, both for its irony and its application to little everyday affairs. Men’s humour, in its classic manifestations, is on the heroic rather than on the average scale: it is for the uncommon situations, not for the daily tea-table.
No accurate assessment of her, whether as a woman, an artist, or a philosopher, can be made without remembering her immense capacity for mental suffering and her need for human support. The idea that gender doesn’t matter in genius is obviously ridiculous. George Sand, undeniably the most independent and captivating of all female authors, didn’t think, write, or feel like a man. Saint Teresa, another remarkable writer from a completely different perspective, was distinctly feminine in every word and idea. George Eliot, who was less daring, less romantic than the Frenchwoman and less spiritual than the Spanish saint, had a more male-oriented style than either; however, her viewpoint was never that of a man. Her sincerity, with its peculiar nuances, was different from a man's sincerity, and her humor wasn't the warm, broad, straightforward humor typically associated with men. Strangely enough, her humor resembled Jane Austen's in its irony and focus on everyday matters. In contrast, men’s humor, in its classic forms, tends to be more heroic than average: it’s aimed at extraordinary situations, not at daily conversations over tea.
Her method of attacking a subject shows the influence of Jane Austen, especially in parts of Middlemarch; one can detect also the stronger influence of Mrs Gaskell, of Charlotte Brontë, and of Miss Edgeworth. It was, however, but an influence, and no more than a man writer, anxious to acquire a knowledge of the feminine point of view, might have absorbed from a study of these women novelists. One often hears that she is not artistic; that her characterization is less distinct than Jane Austen’s; that she tells more than should be known of her heroes and heroines. But it should be remembered that Jane Austen dealt with familiar domestic types, whereas George Eliot excelled in the presentation of extraordinary souls. One woman drew members of polite society with correct notions, while the other woman depicted social rebels with ideas and ideals. In every one of George Eliot’s books, the protagonists, tortured by dreams of perfection, are in revolt against the prudent compromises of the worldly. All through her stories, one hears the clash of “the heroic for earth too high,” and the desperate philosophy, disguised it is true, of Omar Khayyam. In her day, Epicureanism had not reached the life of the people, nor passed into the education of the mob. Few dared to confess that the pursuit of pleasure, whether real or imagined, was the aim of mankind. The charm of Jane Austen is the charm of the untroubled and well-to-do materialist, who sees in a rich marriage, a comfortable house, carriages and an assured income the best to strive for; and in a fickle lover of either sex or the loss of money the severest calamities which can befall the human spirit. Jane Austen despised the greater number of her characters: George Eliot suffered with each of hers. Here, perhaps, we find the reason why she is accused of being inartistic. She could not be impersonal.
Her way of approaching a topic reflects the influence of Jane Austen, especially in parts of Middlemarch; you can also see the stronger influence of Mrs. Gaskell, Charlotte Brontë, and Miss Edgeworth. However, it was just an influence, and no more than a male writer, eager to understand the female perspective, might have absorbed from studying these women novelists. People often claim that she isn't artistic; that her characterizations aren't as clear-cut as Jane Austen's; that she reveals more than necessary about her main characters. But it's important to note that Jane Austen focused on familiar domestic archetypes, while George Eliot excelled in portraying extraordinary individuals. One woman depicted members of polite society with proper notions, while the other illustrated social rebels with ideas and ideals. In every one of George Eliot's books, the protagonists, tormented by dreams of perfection, rebel against the cautious compromises of the worldly. Throughout her stories, you can hear the clash of “the heroic for earth too high,” and the desperate philosophy, albeit disguised, of Omar Khayyam. In her time, Epicureanism had not permeated the lives of ordinary people nor entered the education of the masses. Few were willing to admit that the pursuit of pleasure, whether real or imagined, was mankind's goal. The charm of Jane Austen lies in the appeal of the carefree and well-to-do materialist, who sees a wealthy marriage, a comfortable home, carriages, and secured income as the best things to aim for; while a fickle lover or financial loss represents the worst calamities that can happen to the human spirit. Jane Austen looked down on most of her characters, whereas George Eliot empathized with each of hers. This may explain why she is sometimes accused of being unartistic. She could never be impersonal.
Again, George Eliot was a little scornful to those of both sexes who had neither special missions nor the consciousness of this deprivation. Men are seldom in favour of missions in any field. She demanded, too strenuously from the very beginning, an aim, more or less altruistic, from every individual; and as she advanced in life this claim became the more imperative, till at last it overpowered her art, and transformed a great delineator of humanity into an eloquent observer with far too many personal prejudices. But she was altogether free from cynicism, bitterness, or the least tendency to pride of intellect. She suffered from bodily weakness the greater part of her life, and, but for an extraordinary mental health—inherited from the fine yeoman stock from which she sprang—it is impossible that she could have retained, at all times, so sane a view of human conduct, or been the least sentimental among women writers of the first rank—the one wholly without morbidity in any disguise. The accumulation of mere book knowledge, as opposed to the friction of a life spent among all sorts and conditions of men, drove George Eliot at last to write as a specialist for specialists: joy was lost in the consuming desire for strict accuracy: her genius became more and more speculative, less and less emotional. The highly trained brain suppressed the impulsive heart,—the heart described with such candour and pathos as Maggie Tulliver’s in The Mill on the Floss. For this reason—chiefly because philosophy is popularly associated with inactive depression, 277 whereas human nature is held to be eternally exhilarating—her later works have not received so much praise as her earlier productions. But one has only to compare Romola or Daniel Deronda with the compositions of any author except herself to realize the greatness of her designs, and the astonishing gifts brought to their final accomplishment.
Again, George Eliot had a bit of disdain for those of both genders who had no specific missions or awareness of this lack. Men rarely support missions in any area. From the very start, she demanded an aim, somewhat altruistic, from every individual; and as she got older, this expectation became more urgent, until it ultimately overshadowed her art, turning a great portrayer of humanity into an eloquent observer with too many personal biases. However, she was completely free from cynicism, bitterness, or any hint of intellectual pride. She struggled with physical weakness for most of her life, and if it weren't for her extraordinary mental health—passed down from the fine yeoman background she came from—it's hard to believe that she could have maintained such a balanced view of human behavior at all times, or been the least sentimental among top women writers—the one entirely devoid of any form of morbidity. The focus on mere book knowledge, as opposed to the interactions of a life spent among various types of people, eventually led George Eliot to write as a specialist for specialists: joy was overshadowed by an overwhelming desire for strict accuracy; her genius became increasingly theoretical and less emotional. The highly trained mind stifled the spontaneous heart—the heart depicted with such honesty and feeling as Maggie Tulliver’s in The Mill on the Floss. For this reason—mainly because philosophy is commonly linked with inactive gloom, while human nature is seen as eternally uplifting—her later works haven't received as much acclaim as her earlier ones. But if you compare Romola or Daniel Deronda with the works of any author other than herself, you can see the greatness of her ideas and the remarkable talents she brought to their completion.
See also the Life of George Eliot, edited by J.W. Cross (3 vols., 1885-1887); George Eliot, by Sir Leslie Stephen, in the “English Men of Letters” series (1902); by Oscar Browning, “Great Writers” series (1890), with a bibliography by J.P. Anderson; by Mathilde Blind, “Eminent Women” series, a new edition of which also contains a bibliography (Boston, Mass., 1904).
See also the Life of George Eliot, edited by J.W. Cross (3 vols., 1885-1887); George Eliot, by Sir Leslie Stephen, in the “English Men of Letters” series (1902); by Oscar Browning, “Great Writers” series (1890), with a bibliography by J.P. Anderson; by Mathilde Blind, “Eminent Women” series, a new edition of which also contains a bibliography (Boston, Mass., 1904).
ELIOT, SIR JOHN (1592-1632), English statesman, son of Richard Eliot, a member of an old Devonshire family lately settled in Cornwall, was born at his father’s seat at Port Eliot in Cornwall in 1592. He matriculated at Exeter College, Oxford, on the 4th of December 1607, and leaving the university after a residence of three years he studied law at one of the inns of court. He also spent some months travelling in France, Spain and Italy, in company, for part of the time, with young George Villiers, afterwards duke of Buckingham. He was only twenty-two when he began his parliamentary career as member for St Germans in the “addled parliament” of 1614. In 1618 he was knighted, and next year through the patronage of Buckingham he obtained the appointment of vice-admiral of Devon, with large powers for the defence and control of the commerce of the county. It was not long before the characteristic energy with which he performed the duties in his office involved him in difficulties. After many attempts, in 1623 he succeeded by a clever but dangerous manœuvre in entrapping the famous pirate John Nutt, who had for years infested the southern coast, inflicting immense damage upon English commerce. The issue is noteworthy. The pirate, having a powerful protector at court in Sir George Calvert, the secretary of state, was pardoned; while the vice-admiral, upon charges which could not be substantiated, was flung into the Marshalsea, and detained there nearly four months.
ELIOT, SIR JOHN (1592-1632), English statesman, son of Richard Eliot, who was part of an old Devonshire family that recently settled in Cornwall, was born at his father's estate at Port Eliot in Cornwall in 1592. He enrolled at Exeter College, Oxford, on December 4, 1607, and after three years, he left the university to study law at one of the inns of court. He also spent several months traveling in France, Spain, and Italy, sometimes accompanied by the young George Villiers, who later became the duke of Buckingham. He was only twenty-two when he started his parliamentary career as a member for St Germans in the “addled parliament” of 1614. In 1618, he was knighted, and the following year, thanks to Buckingham's support, he was appointed vice-admiral of Devon, with significant authority to defend and manage the county's commerce. It didn't take long for his characteristic energy in performing his duties to lead to trouble. After many attempts, in 1623 he cleverly yet dangerously managed to capture the notorious pirate John Nutt, who had plagued the southern coast for years, causing tremendous harm to English trade. The outcome was significant. The pirate, who had a strong supporter at court in Sir George Calvert, the secretary of state, was pardoned; meanwhile, the vice-admiral was imprisoned in the Marshalsea for nearly four months on unproven charges.
A few weeks after his release Eliot was elected member of parliament for Newport (February 1624). On the 27th of February he delivered his first speech, in which he at once revealed his great powers as an orator, demanding boldly that the liberties and privileges of parliament, repudiated by James I. in the former parliament, should be secured. In the first parliament of Charles I., in 1625, he urged the enforcement of the laws against the Roman Catholics. Meanwhile he had continued the friend and supporter of Buckingham and greatly approved of the war with Spain. Buckingham’s incompetence, however, and the bad faith with which both he and the king continued to treat the parliament, alienated Eliot completely from the administration. Distrust of his former friend quickly grew in Eliot’s excitable mind to a certainty of his criminal ambition and treason to his country. Returned to the parliament of 1626 as member for St Germans, he found himself, in the absence of other chiefs of the opposition whom the king had secured by nominating them sheriffs, the leader of the House. He immediately demanded an inquiry into the recent disaster at Cadiz. On the 27th of March he made an open and daring attack upon Buckingham and his evil administration. He was not intimidated by the king’s threatening intervention on the 29th, and persuaded the House to defer the actual grant of the subsidies and to present a remonstrance to the king, declaring its right to examine the conduct of ministers. On the 8th of May he was one of the managers who carried Buckingham’s impeachment to the Lords, and on the 10th he delivered the charges against him, comparing him in the course of his speech to Sejanus. Next day Eliot was sent to the Tower. On the Commons declining to proceed with business as long as Eliot and Sir Dudley Digges (who had been imprisoned with him) were in confinement, they were released, and parliament was dissolved on the 15th of June. Eliot was immediately dismissed from his office of vice-admiral of Devon, and in 1627 he was again imprisoned for refusing to pay a forced loan, but liberated shortly before the assembling of the parliament of 1628, to which he was returned as member for Cornwall. He joined in the resistance now organized to arbitrary taxation, was foremost in the promotion of the Petition of Right, continued his outspoken censure of Buckingham, and after the latter’s assassination in August, led the attack in the session of 1629 on the ritualists and Arminians.
A few weeks after his release, Eliot was elected as a member of parliament for Newport (February 1624). On February 27, he gave his first speech, showcasing his impressive oratory skills, boldly demanding that the liberties and privileges of parliament, which James I had denied in the previous parliament, be protected. In the first parliament of Charles I, in 1625, he called for the enforcement of laws against Roman Catholics. Throughout this time, he remained a friend and supporter of Buckingham, strongly endorsing the war with Spain. However, Buckingham's incompetence and the deception with which he and the king treated parliament completely turned Eliot against the administration. Eliot's growing distrust of his former friend soon turned into a deep conviction of Buckingham's treasonous ambitions against his country. When he returned to the parliament of 1626 as a representative for St. Germans, he found himself, with other opposition leaders secured by the king's appointment as sheriffs, leading the House. He immediately called for an inquiry into the recent disaster at Cadiz. On March 27, he made a bold and open attack on Buckingham and his corrupt administration. He was not intimidated by the king's threatening intervention on the 29th, convincing the House to postpone granting subsidies and to present a remonstrance to the king, asserting its right to investigate the conduct of ministers. On May 8, he was one of the managers who brought Buckingham's impeachment to the Lords, and on the 10th, he delivered the charges against him, comparing him during his speech to Sejanus. The next day, Eliot was sent to the Tower. As the Commons refused to conduct any business while Eliot and Sir Dudley Digges (who had been imprisoned with him) were in custody, they were released, and parliament was dissolved on June 15. Eliot was immediately dismissed from his position as vice-admiral of Devon, and in 1627, he was imprisoned again for refusing to pay a forced loan, but was freed shortly before the parliament of 1628, to which he was elected as a representative for Cornwall. He joined the resistance organized against arbitrary taxation, played a leading role in promoting the Petition of Right, continued his outspoken criticism of Buckingham, and after Buckingham’s assassination in August, spearheaded the attack during the 1629 session against ritualists and Arminians.
In February the great question of the right of the king to levy tonnage and poundage came up for discussion; and on the king ordering an adjournment of parliament, the speaker, Sir John Finch, was held down in the chair while Eliot’s resolutions against illegal taxation and innovations in religion were read to the House by Holles (q.v.). In consequence, Eliot, with eight other members, was imprisoned on the 4th of March in the Tower. He refused to answer in his examination, relying on his privilege of parliament, and on the 29th of October was removed to the Marshalsea. On the 26th of January he appeared at the bar of the king’s bench, with Holles and Valentine, to answer a charge of conspiracy to resist the king’s order, and refusing to acknowledge the jurisdiction of the court he was fined £2000 and ordered to be imprisoned during the king’s pleasure and till he had made submission. This he steadfastly refused. While some of the prisoners appear to have had certain liberty allowed to them, Eliot’s confinement in the Tower was made exceptionally severe. Charles’s anger had been from the first directed chiefly against him, not only as his own political antagonist but as the prosecutor and bitter enemy of Buckingham; “an outlawed man,” he described him, “desperate in mind and fortune.”
In February, the major issue of the king's right to collect tonnage and poundage was up for debate. When the king ordered parliament to be adjourned, the speaker, Sir John Finch, was held down in his chair while Eliot's resolutions against illegal taxation and changes in religion were read to the House by Holles (q.v.). As a result, Eliot and eight other members were imprisoned in the Tower on March 4th. He refused to answer during his examination, citing his parliamentary privilege, and on October 29th was moved to the Marshalsea. On January 26th, he appeared before the king’s bench, along with Holles and Valentine, to respond to a charge of conspiracy to resist the king’s order. Refusing to recognize the court's authority, he was fined £2000 and ordered to be imprisoned at the king’s discretion until he submitted. He unwaveringly refused to do so. While some of the prisoners seemed to have some freedoms, Eliot’s imprisonment in the Tower was particularly harsh. Charles's anger was primarily aimed at him, not only as a political opponent but also as a prosecutor and fierce enemy of Buckingham; he referred to him as “an outlawed man, desperate in mind and fortune.”
Eliot languished in prison for some time, during which he wrote several works, his Negotium posterorum, an account of the parliament in 1625; The Monarchie of Man, a political treatise; De jure majestatis, a Political Treatise of Government; and An Apology for Socrates, his own defence. In the spring of 1632 he fell into a decline. In October he petitioned Charles for permission to go into the country, but leave could only be obtained at the price of submission, and was finally refused. He died on the 27th of November 1632. When his son requested permission to move the body to Port Eliot, Charles, whose resentment still survived, returned the curt refusal: “Let Sir John Eliot be buried in the church of that parish where he died.” The manner of Eliot’s death, not without suspicion of foul play, and as the result of the king’s implacability and the severe treatment to which he had been subjected, had more effect, probably, than any other single incident in embittering and precipitating the dispute between king and parliament; and the tragic sacrifice of a man so gifted and patriotic, and actuated originally by no antagonistic feeling against the monarchy or the church, is the surest condemnation of the king’s policy and administration. Eliot was essentially a great orator, inspired by enthusiasm and high ideals, which he was able to communicate to his hearers by his eloquence, but, like Chatham afterwards, he had not only the gifts but the failings of the orator, was incapable of well-reasoned and balanced judgment, and, though one of the greatest personalities of the time, was inferior to Pym both as a party leader and as a statesman.
Eliot spent quite a while in prison, during which he wrote several works: his Negotium posterorum, an account of the parliament in 1625; The Monarchie of Man, a political treatise; De jure majestatis, a Political Treatise of Government; and An Apology for Socrates, his own defense. In the spring of 1632, he started to decline. In October, he asked Charles for permission to go to the countryside, but he could only get leave by submitting, and it was ultimately refused. He died on November 27, 1632. When his son asked to relocate the body to Port Eliot, Charles, still harboring resentment, curtly replied: “Let Sir John Eliot be buried in the church of that parish where he died.” The way Eliot died, with suspicion of foul play, and as a result of the king’s relentless attitude and the harsh treatment he received, likely had a greater impact than any other single incident in escalating the conflict between the king and parliament. The tragic loss of such a talented and patriotic man, who initially held no antagonistic views against the monarchy or the church, strongly condemns the king’s policies and governance. Eliot was fundamentally a great orator, inspired by passion and high ideals, which he could convey to his audience through his eloquence. However, like Chatham later on, he had both the strengths and weaknesses of an orator; he struggled with well-reasoned and balanced judgment and, despite being one of the most significant figures of his time, was inferior to Pym both as a party leader and as a statesman.
Eliot married Rhadagund, daughter of Richard Gedie of Trebursye in Cornwall, by whom he had five sons, from the youngest of whom Nicholas the present earl of St Germans is descended, and four daughters.
Eliot married Rhadagund, daughter of Richard Gedie of Trebursye in Cornwall, with whom he had five sons, the youngest of whom is Nicholas, the current earl of St Germans, and four daughters.
The Life of Sir J. Eliot, by J. Forster (1864), is supplemented and corrected by Gardiner’s History of England, vols. v.-vii., and the article in the Dict. of Nat. Biog., by the same author. Eliot’s writings, together with his Letter-Book, have been edited by Dr Grosart.
The Life of Sir J. Eliot, by J. Forster (1864), is updated and revised by Gardiner’s History of England, volumes v.-vii., and the article in the Dict. of Nat. Biog., by the same author. Eliot’s writings, along with his Letter-Book, have been edited by Dr. Grosart.
ELIOT, JOHN (1604-1690), American colonial clergyman, known as the “Apostle to the Indians,” was born probably at Widford, Hertfordshire, England, where he was baptized on the 5th of August 1604. He was the son of Bennett Eliot, a middle-class farmer. Little is known of his boyhood and early manhood except that he took his degree of B.A. at Jesus College, Cambridge, in 1622. It seems probable that he entered the ministry of the Established Church, but there is nothing definitely known of him until 1629-1630, when he became an usher or assistant at the school of the Rev. Thomas Hooker, at Little Baddow, near Chelmsford. The influence of Hooker apparently determined 278 him to become a Puritan, but his connexion with the school ceased in 1630, when Laud’s persecutions drove Hooker into exile. The realization of the difficulties in the way of a non-conforming clergyman in England undoubtedly determined Eliot to emigrate to America in the autumn of 1631, where he settled first at Boston, assisting for a time at the First Church. In November 1632 he became “teacher” to the church at Roxbury, with which his connexion lasted until his death. There he married Hannah Mulford, who had been betrothed to him in England, and who became his constant helper. In the care of the Roxbury church he was associated with Thomas Welde from 1632 to 1641, with Samuel Danforth (1626-1674) from 1649 to 1674, and with Nehemiah Walter (1663-1750) from 1688 to 1690.
ELIOT, JOHN (1604-1690), an American colonial clergyman known as the "Apostle to the Indians," was likely born in Widford, Hertfordshire, England, where he was baptized on August 5, 1604. He was the son of Bennett Eliot, a middle-class farmer. There isn't much information about his childhood and early adulthood, except that he earned his B.A. degree from Jesus College, Cambridge, in 1622. It appears he may have started in the ministry of the Established Church, but there are no definite records of him until 1629-1630, when he became an assistant at the school of Rev. Thomas Hooker in Little Baddow, near Chelmsford. Hooker's influence likely inspired Eliot to become a Puritan, but his time at the school ended in 1630 when Laud’s persecutions forced Hooker into exile. Recognizing the challenges faced by a non-conforming clergyman in England likely motivated Eliot to emigrate to America in the fall of 1631, where he initially settled in Boston and assisted at the First Church for a while. In November 1632, he became the “teacher” of the church at Roxbury, a position he held until his death. There, he married Hannah Mulford, who had been engaged to him in England, and who became his constant support. In caring for the Roxbury church, he worked with Thomas Welde from 1632 to 1641, with Samuel Danforth (1626-1674) from 1649 to 1674, and with Nehemiah Walter (1663-1750) from 1688 to 1690.
Inspired with the idea of converting the Indians, his first step was to perfect himself in their dialects, which he did by the assistance of a young Indian whom he received into his home. With his aid he translated the Ten Commandments and the Lord’s Prayer. He first successfully preached to the Indians in their own tongue at Nonantum (Newton) in October 1646. At the third meeting several Indians declared themselves converted, and were soon followed by many others. Eliot induced the Massachusetts General Court to set aside land for their residence, the same body also voting him £10 to prosecute the work, and directing that two clergymen be annually elected by the clergy as preachers to the Indians. As soon as the success of Eliot’s endeavours became known, the necessary funds flowed in upon him from private sources in both Old and New England. In July 1649 parliament incorporated the “Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in New England,” which henceforth supported and directed the work inaugurated by Eliot. The first appeal for aid brought contributions of £11,000. In 1651 the Christian Indian town founded by Eliot was removed from Nonantum to Natick, where residences, a meeting-house, and a school-house were erected, and where Eliot preached, when able, once in every two weeks as long as he lived. To this community Eliot applied a plan of government by means of tens, fifties and hundreds, which he subsequently advocated as suitable for all England. Eliot’s missionary labours encouraged others to follow in his footsteps. A second town under his direction was established at Ponkapog (Stoughton) in 1654, in which he had the assistance of Daniel Gookin (c. 1612-1687). His success was duplicated in Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket by the Mayhews, and by 1674 the unofficial census of the “praying Indians” numbered 4000. King Philip’s War (1675-76) was a staggering blow to all missionary enterprise; and although few of the converted Indians proved disloyal, it was some years before adequate support could again be enlisted. Yet at Eliot’s death, which occurred at Roxbury on the 21st of May 1690, the missions were at the height of their prosperity, and that the results of his labours were not permanent was due only to the racial traits of the New England tribes.
Motivated by the idea of converting the Native Americans, his first step was to master their languages, which he accomplished with the help of a young Indian whom he welcomed into his home. With this assistance, he translated the Ten Commandments and the Lord’s Prayer. He first preached successfully to the Indians in their own language at Nonantum (Newton) in October 1646. At the third meeting, several Indians declared they had converted, soon followed by many others. Eliot persuaded the Massachusetts General Court to set aside land for their settlement, and the court also voted him £10 to support his work, directing that two clergymen be elected each year by the clergy to preach to the Indians. Once the success of Eliot’s efforts became known, funds began to pour in from private donors in both Old and New England. In July 1649, parliament incorporated the “Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in New England,” which then supported and guided the work started by Eliot. The first request for help brought contributions of £11,000. In 1651, the Christian Indian community founded by Eliot was moved from Nonantum to Natick, where homes, a meeting-house, and a school were built, and where Eliot preached, when possible, every two weeks for as long as he lived. In this community, Eliot implemented a system of governance based on tens, fifties, and hundreds, which he later recommended as suitable for all of England. Eliot’s missionary efforts inspired others to follow in his footsteps. A second town under his guidance was established at Ponkapog (Stoughton) in 1654, with the assistance of Daniel Gookin (c. 1612-1687). His success was mirrored on Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket by the Mayhews, and by 1674, an unofficial count of the “praying Indians” reached 4,000. King Philip’s War (1675-76) dealt a serious blow to all missionary work; despite few of the converted Indians being disloyal, it took years before adequate support could be regained. However, at the time of Eliot’s death in Roxbury on May 21, 1690, the missions were thriving, and the reason the results of his efforts were not permanent lay solely in the racial characteristics of the New England tribes.
Of wider influence and more lasting value than his personal labours as a missionary was Eliot’s work as a translator of the Bible and various religious works into the Massachusetts dialect of the Algonquian language. The first work completed was the Catechism, published in 1653 at Cambridge, Massachusetts, the first book to be printed in the Indian tongue. Several years elapsed before Eliot completed his task of translating the Bible. The New Testament was at last issued in 1661, and the Old Testament followed two years later. The New Testament was bound with it, and thus the whole Bible was completed. To it were added a Catechism and a metrical version of the Psalms. The title of this Bible, now a great rarity, is Mamussee Wunneetupanatamwe Up-Biblum God naneeswe Nukkone Testament kah wonk Wusku Testament-Ne quoshkinnumuk nashpe Wuttinneumoh Christ noh assoowesit John Eliot; literally translated, “The Whole Holy His-Bible God, both Old Testament and also New Testament. This turned by the-servant-of-Christ, who is called John Eliot.”
Of greater influence and more lasting importance than his personal efforts as a missionary was Eliot’s role as a translator of the Bible and various religious texts into the Massachusetts dialect of the Algonquian language. The first work he completed was the Catechism, published in 1653 in Cambridge, Massachusetts, making it the first book to be printed in the Indian language. Several years passed before Eliot finished translating the Bible. The New Testament was finally released in 1661, and the Old Testament came out two years later. The New Testament was included with it, completing the whole Bible. It also included a Catechism and a metrical version of the Psalms. The title of this Bible, which is now quite rare, is Mamussee Wunneetupanatamwe Up-Biblum God naneeswe Nukkone Testament kah wonk Wusku Testament-Ne quoshkinnumuk nashpe Wuttinneumoh Christ noh assoowesit John Eliot; literally translated, “The Whole Holy His-Bible God, both Old Testament and also New Testament. This turned by the-servant-of-Christ, who is called John Eliot.”
This book was printed in 1663 at Cambridge, Mass., by Samuel Green and Marmaduke Johnson, and was the first Bible printed in America. In 1685 appeared a second edition, in the preparation of which Eliot was assisted by the Rev. John Cotton (1640-1699), the younger, of Plymouth, who also had a wide knowledge of the Indian tongue.
This book was printed in 1663 in Cambridge, Massachusetts, by Samuel Green and Marmaduke Johnson, and it was the first Bible printed in America. In 1685, a second edition was released, during which Eliot received help from Rev. John Cotton (1640-1699), the younger, of Plymouth, who also had extensive knowledge of the Indian language.
Besides his Bible, Eliot published at Cambridge in 1664 a translation of Baxter’s Call to the Unconverted, and in 1665 an abridged translation of Bishop Bayly’s Practice of Piety. With the assistance of his sons he completed (1664) his well-known Indian Grammar Begun, printed at Cambridge, Massachusetts, in 1666. It was reprinted in vol. ix. of the Collections of the Massachusetts Historical Society. The Indian Primer, comprising an exposition of the Lord’s Prayer and a translation of the Larger Catechism, was published at Cambridge in 1669, and was reprinted under the editorial superintendence of Mr John Small of the university of Edinburgh in 1877. In 1671 Eliot printed in English a little volume entitled Indian Dialogues, followed in 1672 by his Logick Primer, both of which were intended for the instruction of the Indians in English. His last translation was Thomas Shepard’s Sincere Convert, completed and published by Grindal Rawson in 1689. Eliot’s literary activity, however, extended into other fields than that of Indian instruction. He was, with Richard Mather, one of the editors of the Bay Psalm Book (1640). Several tracts written wholly or in part by him in the nature of reports to the society which supported his missions were published at various times in England. In 1660 he published a curious treatise on government entitled The Christian Commonwealth, in which he found the ideal of government in the ancient Jewish state, and proposed the reorganization of the English government on the basis of a numerical subdivision of the inhabitants. His Harmony of the Gospels (1678) was a life of Jesus Christ.
Besides his Bible, Eliot published a translation of Baxter’s Call to the Unconverted in Cambridge in 1664, and in 1665, he released an abridged translation of Bishop Bayly's Practice of Piety. With help from his sons, he completed his well-known Indian Grammar Begun in 1664, which was printed in Cambridge, Massachusetts, in 1666. It was later reprinted in volume ix of the Collections of the Massachusetts Historical Society. He published The Indian Primer, featuring an explanation of the Lord's Prayer and a translation of the Larger Catechism, at Cambridge in 1669; it was reprinted under the supervision of Mr. John Small from the University of Edinburgh in 1877. In 1671, Eliot printed a small book in English called Indian Dialogues, followed in 1672 by his Logick Primer, both aimed at teaching the Indians English. His final translation was Thomas Shepard's Sincere Convert, which was finished and published by Grindal Rawson in 1689. However, Eliot's literary work covered more than just Indian education. He was one of the editors, alongside Richard Mather, of the Bay Psalm Book (1640). Several reports or tracts he wrote for the society that supported his missions were published at different times in England. In 1660, he published an interesting treatise on government called The Christian Commonwealth, in which he found the ideal form of government in the ancient Jewish state and suggested reorganizing the English government based on a numerical division of its people. His Harmony of the Gospels (1678) was a life of Jesus Christ.
Bibliography.—An account of Eliot’s life and work is contained in Williston Walker’s Ten New England Leaders (New York, 1901). There is a “Life of John Eliot,” by Convers Francis, in Sparks’ American Biography, vol. v. (New York, 1853); another by N. Adams (Boston, 1847); and a sketch in Cotton Mather’s Magnalia (London, 1702). For a good account of his publications in the Indian language see the chapter on “The Indian Tongue and its Literature,” by J.H. Trumbull, in vol. i. of the Memorial History of Boston (1882).
References.—An overview of Eliot’s life and work can be found in Williston Walker’s Ten New England Leaders (New York, 1901). There’s a “Life of John Eliot” by Convers Francis in Sparks’ American Biography, vol. v. (New York, 1853); another one by N. Adams (Boston, 1847); and a summary in Cotton Mather’s Magnalia (London, 1702). For a solid account of his publications in the Indian language, check out the chapter on “The Indian Tongue and its Literature” by J.H. Trumbull in vol. i. of the Memorial History of Boston (1882).
ELIS, or Eleia, an ancient district of southern Greece, bounded on the N. by Achaea, E. by Arcadia, S. by Messenia, and W. by the Ionian Sea. The local form of the name was Valis, or Valeia, and its meaning, in all probability, “the lowland.” In its physical constitution Elis is practically one with Achaea and Arcadia; its mountains are mere offshoots of the Arcadian highlands, and its principal rivers are fed by Arcadian springs. From Erymanthus in the north, Skollis (now known as Mavri and Santameri in different parts of its length) stretches toward the west, and Pholoe along the eastern frontier; in the south a prolongation of Mount Lycaeon bore in ancient times the names of Minthe and Lapithus, which have given place respectively to Alvena and to Kaiapha and Smerna. These mountains are well clothed with vegetation, and present a soft and pleasing appearance in contrast to the picturesque wildness of the parent ranges. They gradually sink towards the west and die off into what was one of the richest alluvial tracts in the Peloponnesus. Except where it is broken by the rocky promontories of Chelonatas (now Chlemutzi) and Ichthys (now Katakolo), the coast lies low, with stretches of sand in the north and lagoons and marshes towards the south. During the summer months communication with the sea being established by means of canals, these lagoons yield a rich harvest of fish to the inhabitants, who at the same time, however, are almost driven from the coast by the swarms of gnats. The district for administrative purposes forms part of the nome of Elis and Achaea (see Greece).
ELIS, or Eleia, is an ancient region in southern Greece, bordered to the north by Achaea, to the east by Arcadia, to the south by Messenia, and to the west by the Ionian Sea. Locally, it was called Valis or Valeia, likely meaning “the lowland.” Geographically, Elis is closely linked with Achaea and Arcadia; its mountains are simply extensions of the Arcadian highlands, and its main rivers are sourced from Arcadian springs. From the Erymanthus in the north, the Skollis (currently known as Mavri and Santameri in different areas) flows westward, while the Pholoe runs along the eastern border. In the south, a continuation of Mount Lycaeon was historically known as Minthe and Lapithus, now replaced by Alvena and Kaiapha, and Smerna. These mountains are lush with vegetation and have a soft, attractive look that contrasts with the rugged beauty of the main ranges. They gradually descend to the west and merge into what once was one of the most fertile alluvial plains in the Peloponnesus. The coastline, except where interrupted by the rocky outcrops of Chelonatas (now Chlemutzi) and Ichthys (now Katakolo), is low-lying, featuring sandy areas in the north and lagoons and marshes to the south. During summer, canals connect the lagoons to the sea, providing a bountiful catch of fish for the local people, although they are often pushed away from the shore by swarms of gnats. For administrative purposes, this area is part of the nome of Elis and Achaea (see Greece).
Elis was divided into three districts—Hollow or Lowland Elis (ἡ κοίλη Ἦλις), Pisatis, or the territory of Pisa, and Triphylia, or the country of the three tribes. (1) Hollow Elis, the largest and most northern of the three, was watered by the Peneus and its tributary the Ladon, whose united stream forms the modern Gastouni. It included not only the champaign country originally designated by its name, but also the mountainous region of Acrorea, occupied by the offshoots of Erymanthus. Besides the capital city of Elis, it contained Cyllene, an Arcadian settlement 279 on the sea-coast, whose inhabitants worshipped Hermes under the phallic symbol; Pylus, at the junction of the Peneus and the Ladon, which, like so many other places of the same name, claimed to be the city of Nestor, and the fortified frontier town of Lasion, the ruins of which are still visible at Kuti, near the village of Kumani. The district was famous in antiquity for its cattle and horses; and its byssus, supposed to have been introduced by the Phoenicians, was inferior only to that of Palestine. (2) Pisatis extended south from Hollow Elis to the right bank of the Alpheus, and was divided into eight departments called after as many towns. Of these Salmone, Heraclea, Cicysion, Dyspontium and Harpina are known—the last being the reputed burial-place of Marmax, the suitor of Hippodamia. From the time of the early investigators it has been disputed whether Pisa, which gave its name to the district, has ever been a city, or was only a fountain or a hill. By far the most important spot in Pisatis was the scene of the great Olympic games, on the northern bank of the Alpheus (see Olympia). (3) Triphylia stretches south from the Alpheus to the Neda, which forms the boundary towards Messenia. Of the nine towns mentioned by Polybius, only two attained to any considerable influence—Lepreum and Macistus, which gave the names of Lepreatis and Macistia to the southern and northern halves of Triphylia. The former was the seat of a strongly independent population, and continued to take every opportunity of resisting the supremacy of the Eleans. In the time of Pausanias it was in a very decadent condition, and possessed only a poor brick-built temple of Demeter; but considerable remains of its outer walls are still in existence near the village of Strovitzi, on a part of the Minthe range.
Elis was divided into three districts—Hollow or Lowland Elis (the hollow Elis), Pisatis, or the territory of Pisa, and Triphylia, or the land of the three tribes. (1) Hollow Elis, the largest and most northern of the three, was watered by the Peneus and its tributary the Ladon, whose combined stream forms the modern Gastouni. It included not just the flat lands originally indicated by its name, but also the mountainous area of Acrorea, inhabited by the offshoots of Erymanthus. Besides the capital city of Elis, it included Cyllene, an Arcadian settlement 279 on the coast, whose people worshipped Hermes with the phallic symbol; Pylus, at the confluence of the Peneus and the Ladon, which, like many other towns of the same name, claimed to be the city of Nestor; and the fortified border town of Lasion, whose ruins are still visible at Kuti, near the village of Kumani. The district was famous in ancient times for its cattle and horses; and its byssus, believed to have been brought in by the Phoenicians, was second only to that of Palestine. (2) Pisatis stretched south from Hollow Elis to the right bank of the Alpheus, and was divided into eight departments named after as many towns. Of these, Salmone, Heraclea, Cicysion, Dyspontium, and Harpina are known—the last being the supposed burial place of Marmax, the suitor of Hippodamia. Since the time of the early researchers, there has been debate about whether Pisa, which gave its name to the district, was ever a city, or was only a fountain or a hill. The most significant site in Pisatis was the location of the great Olympic games, on the northern bank of the Alpheus (see Olympia). (3) Triphylia extends south from the Alpheus to the Neda, which forms the boundary with Messenia. Of the nine towns mentioned by Polybius, only two had any notable influence—Lepreum and Macistus, which gave the names of Lepreatis and Macistia to the southern and northern halves of Triphylia. The former was the seat of a strongly independent population, and continually looked for opportunities to resist the control of the Eleans. In Pausanias's time, it was in a very rundown state, possessing only a poor temple of Demeter; but considerable remains of its outer walls still exist near the village of Strovitzi, on a part of the Minthe range.
The original inhabitants of Elis were called Caucones and Paroreatae. They are mentioned for the first time in Greek history under the title of Epeians, as setting out for the Trojan War, and they are described by Homer as living in a state of constant hostility with their neighbours the Pylians. At the close of the 11th century B.C. the Dorians invaded the Peloponnesus, and Elis fell to the share of Oxylus and the Aetolians. These people, amalgamating with the Epeians, formed a powerful kingdom in the north of Elis. After this many changes took place in the political distribution of the country, till at length it came to acknowledge only three tribes, each independent of the others. These tribes were the Epeians, Minyae and Eleans. Before the end of the 8th century B.C., however, the Eleans had vanquished both their rivals, and established their supremacy over the whole country. Among the other advantages which they thus gained was the right of celebrating the Olympic games, which had formerly been the prerogative of the Pisatans. The attempts which this people made to recover their lost privilege, during a period of nearly two hundred years, ended at length in the total destruction of their city by the Eleans. From the time of this event (572 B.C.) till the Peloponnesian War, the peace of Elis remained undisturbed. In that great contest Elis sided at first with Sparta; but that power, jealous of the increasing prosperity of its ally, availed itself of the first pretext to pick a quarrel. At the battle of Mantinea (418 B.C.) the Eleans fought against the Spartans, who, as soon as the war came to a close, took vengeance upon them by depriving them of Triphylia and the towns of the Acrorea. The Eleans made no attempt to re-establish their authority over these places, till the star of Thebes rose in the ascendant after the battle of Leuctra (371 B.C.). It is not unlikely that they would have effected their purpose had not the Arcadian confederacy come to the assistance of the Triphylians. In 366 B.C. hostilities broke out between them, and though the Eleans were at first successful, they were soon overpowered, and their capital very nearly fell into the hands of the enemy. Unable to make head against their opponents, they applied for assistance to the Spartans, who invaded Arcadia, and forced the Arcadians to recall their troops from Elis. The general result of this war was the restoration of their territory to the Eleans, who were also again invested with the right of holding the Olympic games. During the Macedonian supremacy in Greece they sided with the victors, but refused to fight against their countrymen. After the death of Alexander they renounced the Macedonian alliance. At a subsequent period they joined the Aetolian League, but persistently refused to identify themselves with the Achaeans. When the whole of Greece fell under the Roman yoke, the sanctity of Olympia secured for the Eleans a certain amount of indulgence. The games still continued to attract to the country large numbers of strangers, until they were finally put down by Theodosius in 394, two years previous to the utter destruction of the country by the Gothic invasion under Alaric. In later times Elis fell successively into the hands of the Franks and the Venetians, under whose rule it recovered to some extent its ancient prosperity. By the latter people the province of Belvedere on the Peneus was called, in consequence of its fertility, “the milch cow of the Morea.”
The original inhabitants of Elis were called the Caucones and Paroreatae. They are first mentioned in Greek history as the Epeians, who went off to the Trojan War, and Homer describes them as always being in conflict with their neighboring Pylians. At the end of the 11th century B.C., the Dorians invaded the Peloponnesus, and Elis came under the control of Oxylus and the Aetolians. These groups merged with the Epeians to create a strong kingdom in northern Elis. Afterward, the political situation in the area changed many times until it was divided into three independent tribes: the Epeians, Minyae, and Eleans. However, by the end of the 8th century B.C., the Eleans had defeated both their rivals and established control over the entire region. One of the benefits they gained was the right to hold the Olympic games, which had previously been the privilege of the Pisatans. The Pisatans' attempts to regain this right over nearly two hundred years ended with the complete destruction of their city by the Eleans. From that event in 572 B.C. until the Peloponnesian War, Elis enjoyed peace. During that major conflict, Elis initially sided with Sparta; however, Sparta, envious of its ally's growing success, used the first opportunity to start a conflict. In the battle of Mantinea (418 B.C.), the Eleans fought against the Spartans, who, after the war ended, retaliated by stripping them of Triphylia and the Acrorea towns. The Eleans did not try to regain control over these territories until Thebes rose to power following the battle of Leuctra (371 B.C.). It's likely they could have succeeded had the Arcadian confederacy not supported the Triphylians. In 366 B.C., hostilities broke out between them, and although the Eleans had early victories, they were soon overwhelmed, and their capital nearly fell to the enemy. Unable to effectively resist their opponents, they sought help from the Spartans, who invaded Arcadia and compelled the Arcadians to withdraw their forces from Elis. The overall outcome of this war was the restoration of territory to the Eleans, along with their right to host the Olympic games again. During the Macedonian dominance in Greece, they allied with the victors but refused to fight against their fellow countrymen. After Alexander's death, they broke away from the Macedonian alliance. Later, they joined the Aetolian League but consistently refused to align with the Achaeans. When the entirety of Greece came under Roman rule, the sacredness of Olympia gave the Eleans a degree of leniency. The games continued to draw many visitors to the area until they were ultimately banned by Theodosius in 394, just two years before the complete destruction of the region by the Gothic invasion led by Alaric. In later times, Elis was taken over by the Franks and Venetians, under whose control it regained some of its former prosperity. The Venetians referred to the fertile province of Belvedere on the Peneus as "the milch cow of the Morea."
ELIS, the chief city of the ancient Greek district of Elis, was situated on the river Peneus, just where it passes from the mountainous district of Acrorea into the champaign below. According to native tradition, it was originally founded by Oxylus, the leader of the Aetolians, whose statue stood in the market-place. In 471 B.C. it received a great extension by the incorporation (synoecism) of various small hamlets, whose inhabitants took up their abode in the city. Up to this date it only occupied the ridge of the hill now called Kalaskopi, to the south of the Peneus, but afterwards it spread out in several suburbs, and even to the other side of the stream. As all the athletes who intended to take part in the Olympic games were obliged to undergo a month’s training in the city, its gymnasiums were among its principal institutions. They were three in number—the “Xystos,” with its avenues of plane-trees, its plethrion or wrestling-place, its altars to Heracles, to Eros and Anteros, to Demeter and Kore (Cora), and its cenotaph of Achilles; the “Tetragonon,” appropriated to boxing exercises; and the “Maltho,” in the interior of which was a hall or council chamber called Lalichmion after its founder. The market-place was of the old-fashioned type, with porticoes at intervals and paths leading between them. It was called the Hippodrome because it was commonly used for exercising horses. Among the other objects of interest were the temple of Artemis Philomirax; the Hellanodicaeon, or office of the Hellanodicae; the Corcyrean Hall, a building in the Dorian style with two façades, built of spoils from Corcyra; a temple of Apollo Acesius; a temple of Silenus; an ancient structure supported on oaken pillars and reputed to be the burial-place of Oxylus; the building where the sixteen women of Elis were wont to weave a robe for the statue of Hera at Olympia; the temple of Aphrodite, with a statue of the goddess by Pheidias as Urania with a tortoise beneath her foot, and by Scopas as Pandemos, riding on a goat; and the shrine of Dionysus, whose festival, the Thyia, was yearly celebrated in the neighbourhood. On the acropolis was a temple of Athena, with a gold and ivory statue by Pheidias. The history of the town is closely identified with that of the country. In 399 B.C. it was occupied by Agis, king of Sparta. The acropolis was fortified in 312 by Telesphorus, the admiral of Antigonus, but it was shortly afterwards dismantled by Philemon, another of his generals. A view of the site is given by Stanhope. It is now called Palaeopolis. No traces of any buildings can be identified, the only remains visible dating from Roman times.
ELIS, the main city of the ancient Greek region of Elis, was located on the Peneus River, right where it flows from the hilly area of Acrorea into the flat land below. According to local tradition, it was originally established by Oxylus, the leader of the Aetolians, whose statue stood in the marketplace. In 471 B.C., it expanded significantly through the merging (synoecism) of various small villages, whose residents moved into the city. Before this, it only occupied the ridge of the hill now known as Kalaskopi, south of the Peneus, but later it spread out into several suburbs and even across the river. Since all athletes participating in the Olympic games had to train in the city for a month, its gymnasiums were among its key features. There were three of them—the "Xystos," with its rows of plane trees, wrestling area (plethrion), and altars to Heracles, Eros and Anteros, Demeter and Kore (Cora), and a cenotaph for Achilles; the "Tetragonon," designated for boxing practice; and the "Maltho," which included a hall or council chamber called Lalichmion after its founder. The marketplace had a traditional layout, featuring porticoes at intervals and pathways between them. It was known as the Hippodrome because it was often used for horse training. Other notable sites included the temple of Artemis Philomirax; the Hellanodicaeon, or office of the Hellanodicae; the Corcyrean Hall, a Dorian-style building with two façades made from spoils of Corcyra; a temple dedicated to Apollo Acesius; a temple of Silenus; an ancient building supported by oak pillars, believed to be the burial site of Oxylus; the location where the sixteen women of Elis used to weave a robe for the statue of Hera at Olympia; the temple of Aphrodite, which featured a statue of the goddess by Pheidias as Urania with a tortoise underfoot, and by Scopas as Pandemos, riding on a goat; and the shrine of Dionysus, whose festival, the Thyia, was celebrated annually in the area. On the acropolis, there was a temple of Athena, which housed a gold and ivory statue by Pheidias. The city's history is closely tied to that of the region. In 399 BCE, it was taken over by Agis, king of Sparta. The acropolis was fortified in 312 by Telesphorus, the admiral of Antigonus, but it was soon dismantled by Philemon, another one of his generals. A view of the site is provided by Stanhope. It is now known as Palaeopolis. No remnants of any buildings can be identified, with the only visible remains dating back to Roman times.
See Pausanias vi. 23-26; J. Spencer Stanhope, Olympia and Elis (1824), folio; W.M. Leake, Morea (1830); E. Curtius, Peloponnesus (1851-1852); Schiller, Stämme und Staaten Griechenlands; C. Bursian, Geographie von Griechenland (1868-1872); P. Gardner, “The Coins of Elis,” in Num. Chr. (1879).
See Pausanias vi. 23-26; J. Spencer Stanhope, Olympia and Elis (1824), folio; W.M. Leake, Morea (1830); E. Curtius, Peloponnesus (1851-1852); Schiller, Stämme und Staaten Griechenlands; C. Bursian, Geographie von Griechenland (1868-1872); P. Gardner, “The Coins of Elis,” in Num. Chr. (1879).
ELIS, PHILOSOPHICAL SCHOOL OF. This school was founded by Phaedo, a pupil of Socrates. It existed for a very short time and was then transferred by Menedemus to Eretria, where it became known as the Eretrian school. Its chief members, beside Phaedo, were Anchipylus, Moschus and Pleistanus (see Phaedo and Menedemus).
ELIS, SCHOOL OF PHILOSOPHY. This school was founded by Phaedo, a student of Socrates. It lasted only a brief period before Menedemus moved it to Eretria, where it became known as the Eretrian school. Its main members, along with Phaedo, included Anchipylus, Moschus, and Pleistanus (see Phaedo and Menedemus).
ELISAVETGRAD, a fortress and town of Russia, in the government of Kherson, 296 m. by rail N.E. of Odessa on the Balta-Kremenchug railway, and on the Ingul river, in 48° 31’ N. and 32° 10′ E. The population increased from 23,725 in 1860 to 280 66,182 in 1900. The town is regularly built, with wide streets, some of them lined with trees, and is a wealthy town, which has become an industrial centre for the region especially on account of its steam flour-mills, in which it is second only to Odessa, its distilleries, mechanical workshops, tobacco and tallow factories and brickworks. It is an important centre for trade in cereals and flour for export, and in sheep, cattle, wool, leather and timber. Five fairs are held annually. It has a military school, a first-class meteorological station and a botanical garden. The town was founded in 1754 and named after the empress Elizabeth. The fortifications are now decayed.
ELISAVETGRAD is a fortress and town in Russia, located in the Kherson region, 296 km by rail northeast of Odessa on the Balta-Kremenchug railway, and situated on the Ingul River, at 48° 31’ N and 32° 10′ E. The population grew from 23,725 in 1860 to 280 66,182 in 1900. The town is laid out in a regular pattern, featuring wide streets, some lined with trees, and is a prosperous town that has developed into an industrial hub for the area, particularly known for its steam flour mills, where it ranks just behind Odessa. It also has distilleries, mechanical workshops, tobacco and tallow factories, and brickworks. It serves as an important trade center for exporting cereals and flour, as well as sheep, cattle, wool, leather, and timber. Five fairs take place annually. The town boasts a military school, a top-tier meteorological station, and a botanical garden. Founded in 1754, it was named after Empress Elizabeth. The fortifications are now in ruins.
ELISAVETPOL, a government of Russia, Transcaucasia, having the governments of Tiflis and Daghestan on the N., Baku on the E., and Erivan and Tiflis on the W. and Persia on the S. Area, 16,721 sq. m. It includes: (a) the southern slope of the main Caucasus range in the north-east, where Bazardyuzi (14,770 ft.) and other peaks rise above the snow-line; (b) the arid and unproductive steppes beside the Kura, reaching 1000 ft. of altitude in the west and sinking to 100-200 ft. in the east, where irrigation is necessary; and (c) the northern slopes of the Transcaucasian escarpment and portions of the Armenian plateau, which is intersected towards its western boundary, near Lake Gok-cha, by chains of mountains consisting of trachytes and various crystalline rocks, and reaching 12,845 ft. in Mount Kapujikh. Elsewhere the country has the character of a plateau, 7000 to 8000 ft. high, deeply trenched by tributaries of the Aras. All varieties of climate are found from that of the snowclad peaks, Alpine meadows, and stony deserts of the high levels, to that of the hill slopes, clothed with gardens and vineyards, and of the arid Caspian steppes. Thus, at Shusha, on the plateau, at an altitude of 3680 ft., the average temperatures are: year 48°, January 26°, July 66°; annual rainfall, 26.4; while at Elisavetpol, in the valley of the Kura, they are: year 55°, January 32°.2, July 77° and rainfall only 10.3 in. Nearly one-fifth of the surface is under forests.
ELISAVETPOL is a government in Russia, Transcaucasia, bordered by Tiflis and Daghestan to the north, Baku to the east, and Erivan and Tiflis to the west, with Persia to the south. It covers an area of 16,721 square miles. The region includes: (a) the southern slope of the main Caucasus range in the northeast, where Bazardyuzi (14,770 ft.) and other peaks rise above the snowline; (b) the dry and unproductive steppes alongside the Kura River, reaching 1,000 ft. in altitude in the west and dropping to 100-200 ft. in the east, where irrigation is required; and (c) the northern slopes of the Transcaucasian escarpment and parts of the Armenian plateau, which are interrupted toward the western boundary, near Lake Gok-cha, by mountain ranges composed of trachytes and various crystalline rocks, with Mount Kapujikh reaching 12,845 ft. In other areas, the landscape resembles a plateau, ranging from 7,000 to 8,000 ft. in elevation, deeply cut by tributaries of the Aras River. The region experiences all types of climate, from the snow-covered peaks, Alpine meadows, and rocky deserts of the highlands to the hillside areas adorned with gardens and vineyards, as well as the arid Caspian steppes. For example, in Shusha, located on the plateau at an altitude of 3,680 ft., the average temperatures are: annual 48°, January 26°, July 66°; with annual rainfall of 26.4 inches. In contrast, at Elisavetpol, in the Kura Valley, the averages are: annual 55°, January 32.2°, July 77°, and only 10.3 inches of rainfall. Nearly one-fifth of the landscape is covered by forests.
The population which was 885,379 in 1897 (only 392,124 women; 84,130 urban), and was estimated at 953,300 in 1906, consists chiefly of Tatars (56%) and Armenians (33%). The remainder are Kurds (4.7%), Russians and a few Germans, Jews, Kurins, Udins and Tates. Peasants form the great bulk of the population. Some of the Tatars and the Kurds are nomadic. Wheat, maize, barley, oats and rye are grown, also rice. Cultivation of cotton has begun, but the rearing of silkworms is of old standing, especially at Nukha (1650 tons of cocoons on the average are obtained every year). Nearly 8000 acres are under vines, the yield of wine averaging 82½ million gallons annually. Gardening reaches a high standard of perfection. Liquorice root is obtained to the extent of about 35,000 tons annually. The rearing of live-stock is largely carried on on the steppes. Copper, magnetic iron ore, cobalt and a small quantity of naphtha are extracted, and nearly 10,000 persons are employed in manufacturing industry—copper works and silk-mills. Carpet-weaving is widely spread. Owing to the Transcaucasian railway, which crosses the government, trade, both in the interior and with Persia, is very brisk. The government is divided into eight districts, Elisavetpol, Aresh, Jebrail, Jevanshir, Kazakh, Nukha, Shusha and Zangezur. The only towns, besides the capital, are Nukha (24,811 inhabitants in 1897) and Shusha (25,656).
The population, which was 885,379 in 1897 (with only 392,124 women; 84,130 living in urban areas), was estimated at 953,300 in 1906. It mainly consists of Tatars (56%) and Armenians (33%). The rest are Kurds (4.7%), Russians, and a few Germans, Jews, Kurins, Udins, and Tates. Peasants make up the majority of the population. Some Tatars and Kurds are nomadic. They grow wheat, maize, barley, oats, and rye, and rice is also cultivated. Cotton farming has started, but raising silkworms is a long-established practice, especially in Nukha, where an average of 1,650 tons of cocoons are produced each year. Nearly 8,000 acres are dedicated to vineyards, with wine production averaging 82.5 million gallons annually. Gardening is highly developed. Licorice root is harvested to the extent of about 35,000 tons each year. Livestock farming is primarily done on the steppes. Copper, magnetic iron ore, cobalt, and a small amount of naphtha are extracted. Nearly 10,000 people are employed in manufacturing industries such as copper works and silk mills. Carpet weaving is widespread. Thanks to the Transcaucasian railway that runs through the region, trade is very active, both internally and with Persia. The government is divided into eight districts: Elisavetpol, Aresh, Jebrail, Jevanshir, Kazakh, Nukha, Shusha, and Zangezur. Aside from the capital, the only towns are Nukha (with 24,811 inhabitants in 1897) and Shusha (with 25,656).
ELISAVETPOL (formerly Ganja, alternative names being Kenjeh and Kanga), a town of Russia, capital of the government of the same name, 118 m. by rail S.E. of Tiflis and 3½ m. from the railway, at an altitude of 1446 ft. Pop. (1873) 15,439; (1897) 33,090. It is a very old town, which changed hands between Persians, Khazars and Arabs even in the 7th century, and later fell into the possession of Mongols, Georgians, Persians and Turks successively, until the Russians took it in 1804, when the change of name was made. It is a badly built place, with narrow streets and low-roofed, windowless houses, and is situated in a very unhealthy locality, but has been much improved, a new European quarter having been built on the site of the old fortress (erected by the Turks in 1712-1724). The inhabitants are chiefly Tatars and Armenians, famed for their excellent gardening, and also for silkworm breeding. It has a beautiful mosque, built by Shah Abbas of Persia in 1620; and a renowned “Green Mosque” amidst the ruins of old Ganja, 4 m. distant. The Persian poet, Shah Nizam (Nizam-ed-Din), was born here in 1141, and is said to have been buried (1203) close to the town. The Persians were defeated by the Russians under Paskevich outside this town in 1826.
ELISAVETPOL (formerly Ganja, also known as Kenjeh and Kangaroo) is a town in Russia, serving as the capital of the same-named government, located 118 miles by rail southeast of Tiflis and 3.5 miles from the railway, at an altitude of 1,446 feet. Population: (1873) 15,439; (1897) 33,090. This town is very old and was controlled by Persians, Khazars, and Arabs as early as the 7th century. It later changed hands to the Mongols, Georgians, Persians, and Turks in succession until the Russians captured it in 1804, at which point it was renamed. The town is poorly constructed, featuring narrow streets and low, windowless houses, and is in an unhealthy area, although significant improvements have been made, including the development of a new European district on the site of the old fortress (built by the Turks between 1712 and 1724). The main inhabitants are Tatars and Armenians, known for their excellent gardening and silkworm farming. It boasts a beautiful mosque built by Shah Abbas of Persia in 1620 and a famous “Green Mosque” located among the ruins of old Ganja, 4 miles away. The Persian poet Shah Nizam (Nizam-ed-Din) was born here in 1141 and is said to have been buried (1203) nearby. The Russians, led by Paskevich, defeated the Persians outside this town in 1826.
ELISHA (a Hebrew name meaning “God is deliverance”), in the Bible, the disciple and successor of Elijah, was the son of Shaphat of Abel-meholah in the valley of the Jordan. He was symbolically elected to the prophetic office by Elijah some time during the reign of Ahab (1 Kings xix. 19-21), and he survived until the reign of Joash. His career thus appears to have extended over a period of nearly sixty years. The relation between Elijah and Elisha was of a particularly close kind, but the difference between them is much more striking than the resemblance. Elijah is the prophet of the wilderness, wandering, rugged and austere; Elisha is the prophet of civilized life, of the city and the court, with the dress, manners and appearance of ordinary “grave citizens.” Elijah is the messenger of vengeance—sudden, fierce and overwhelming; Elisha is the messenger of mercy and restoration. Elijah’s miracles, with few exceptions, are works of wrath and destruction; Elisha’s miracles, with but one notable exception, are works of beneficence and healing. Elijah is the “prophet as fire” (Ecclus, xlviii. 1), an abnormal agent working for exceptional ends; Elisha is the “holy man of God which passeth by us continually” (2 Kings iv. 9), mixing in the common life of the people.
ELISHA (a Hebrew name meaning “God is deliverance”), in the Bible, was the disciple and successor of Elijah. He was the son of Shaphat from Abel-meholah in the Jordan Valley. Elijah symbolically chose him for the prophetic role during Ahab's reign (1 Kings xix. 19-21), and he lived through Joash's reign. His life spanned nearly sixty years. The relationship between Elijah and Elisha was particularly close, but their differences are much more apparent than their similarities. Elijah is the prophet of the wilderness—wild, rugged, and tough; Elisha is the prophet of civilized life, associated with cities and courts, dressed and acting like ordinary respectable citizens. Elijah is the messenger of vengeance—sudden, fierce, and overwhelming; Elisha is the messenger of mercy and restoration. Most of Elijah’s miracles, with few exceptions, show wrath and destruction, while Elisha’s miracles, with one prominent exception, are acts of kindness and healing. Elijah is the “prophet as fire” (Ecclus, xlviii. 1), an unusual agent working for extraordinary purposes; Elisha is the “holy man of God who passes by us continually” (2 Kings iv. 9), engaging in the everyday lives of the people.
It is impossible to draw up a detailed chronology of his life. In most of the events narrated no further indication of time is given than by the words “the king of Israel,” the name not being specified. There are some instances in which the order of time is obviously the reverse of the order of narrative, and there are other grounds for concluding that the narrative as we now have it is confused and incomplete. This may serve not only to explain the chronological difficulties, but also to throw some light on the altogether exceptional character of the miraculous element in Elisha’s history. On the literary questions, see further Kings.
It’s impossible to create a detailed timeline of his life. For most of the events described, there's no further indication of time other than the phrase “the king of Israel,” without specifying a name. There are some cases where the sequence of events clearly goes against the order of the narrative, and other reasons to believe that the narrative as we have it now is disorganized and incomplete. This might help explain the chronological issues while also shedding light on the uniquely exceptional nature of the miraculous aspects in Elisha’s story. For more on the literary questions, see Kings.
Not only are Elisha’s miracles very numerous, even more so than those of Elijah, but they stand in a peculiar relation to the man and his work. With all the other prophets the primary function is spiritual teaching; miracles, even though numerous and many of them symbolical like Elisha’s, are only accessory. With Elisha, on the other hand, miracles seem the principal function, and the teaching is altogether subsidiary. An explanation of the superabundance of miracles in Elisha’s life is suggested by the fact that several of them were merely repetitions or doubles of those of his predecessor. Such were: his first miracle, when, returning across the Jordan, he made a dry path for himself in the same manner as Elijah (2 Kings ii. 14); the increase of the widow’s pot of oil (iv. 1-7); and the restoration of the son of the woman of Shunem to life (iv. 18-37). The theory that stories from the earlier life have been imported by mistake into the later, even if tenable, applies only to three of the miracles, and leaves unexplained a much larger number which are not only not repetitions of those of Elijah, but have an entirely opposite character. The healing of the water of Jericho by putting salt in it (ii. 19-22), the provision of water for the army of Jehoshaphat in the arid desert (iii. 6-20), the neutralizing by meal of the poison in the pottage of the famine-stricken sons of the prophets at Jericho (iv. 38-41), the healing of Naaman the Syrian (v. 1-19), and the recovery of the iron axehead that had sunk in the water (vi. 1-7), are all instances of the beneficence which was the general characteristic of Elisha’s wonder-working activity in contrast to that of Elijah. Another miracle of the same class, the feeding of a hundred men with twenty loaves so that something was left over (iv. 42-44), deserves mention as the most striking though not the only instance of a resemblance between the work of Elisha and that of Jesus (Matt. xiv. 13-21). The one distinct exception to the general beneficence of Elisha’s activity—the 281 destruction of the forty-two children who mocked him as he was going up to Bethel (2 Kings ii. 23-25)—presents an ethical difficulty which is scarcely removed by the suggestion that the narrative has lost some particulars which would have shown the real enormity of the children’s offence. We may prefer to imagine that among the homely stories told of him was one which had for its main object the inculcation of respect for one’s elders.1 The leprosy brought upon Gehazi (v. 20-27), though a miracle of judgment, scarcely belongs to the same class as the other; and it will be observed that Gehazi’s subsequent relations with the court (viii. 1-6) ignore the disease, a fatal hindrance to intercourse. Further, the healing of Naaman (alluded to in Luke iv. 27) presupposes peaceful relations between Israel and the Syrians, with which, however, contrast ch. vi. The wonder-working power of Elisha is represented as continuing even after his death. As the feeding of the hundred men and the cure of leprosy connect his work with that of Jesus, so the story that a dead man who was cast into his sepulchre was brought to life by the mere contact with his bones (2 Kings xiii. 21, cf. Ecclus. xlviii. 12-14) is the most striking instance of an analogy between his miracles and those recorded of medieval saints. Stanley (Jewish Church, 4th ed., ii. 276) in reference to this has remarked that in the life of Elisha alone “in the sacred history the gulf between biblical and ecclesiastical miracles almost disappears.”
Not only are Elisha’s miracles numerous, even more so than Elijah’s, but they also have a unique connection to the man and his work. For other prophets, the main role is spiritual teaching; miracles, even if they are many and often symbolic like Elisha's, are merely supplementary. However, for Elisha, miracles appear to be the main focus, while teaching becomes secondary. The abundance of miracles in Elisha’s life can partly be explained by the fact that several of them were simply repeats or variations of those performed by his predecessor. Examples include: his first miracle, when he returned across the Jordan and created a dry path just like Elijah (2 Kings 2:14); the miracle of increasing the widow’s pot of oil (4:1-7); and bringing the son of the Shunammite woman back to life (4:18-37). The idea that stories from earlier accounts have mistakenly been added to the later ones might hold for those three miracles but does not clarify the larger number that are not merely repetitions of Elijah’s but have entirely different nature. The healing of Jericho’s water by adding salt (2:19-22), providing water for Jehoshaphat's army in the dry desert (3:6-20), neutralizing the poison in the food for the starving prophets at Jericho with flour (4:38-41), healing Naaman the Syrian (5:1-19), and recovering the lost iron axehead that had sunk in the water (6:1-7) are all examples of the kindness that characterized Elisha's miraculous activities, in contrast to Elijah's. Another notable miracle, feeding a hundred men with twenty loaves so that there were leftovers (4:42-44), is particularly noteworthy as it resembles the work of Jesus (Matt. 14:13-21). The one clear exception to Elisha's generally benevolent actions—the destruction of the forty-two children who mocked him as he went up to Bethel (2 Kings 2:23-25)—presents an ethical challenge that isn’t resolved by the notion that details have been lost, obscuring the severity of the children’s offense. It might be better to imagine that among the many stories told about him was one meant to teach respect for elders. The leprosy inflicted on Gehazi (5:20-27), while a miracle of judgment, doesn’t quite fit with the others; it’s noteworthy that Gehazi's later interactions with the court (8:1-6) overlook his disease, a major barrier to social contacts. Moreover, the healing of Naaman (mentioned in Luke 4:27) assumes peaceful relations between Israel and Syria, which contrasts with the circumstances in chapter 6. Elisha’s miraculous powers are depicted as enduring even after his death. Just as the feeding of the hundred men and the healing of leprosy connect his work with Jesus, the story of a dead man who was revived by merely touching his bones (2 Kings 13:21, cf. Ecclus. 48:12-14) represents a striking similarity between his miracles and those attributed to medieval saints. Stanley (in Jewish Church, 4th ed., ii. 276) has noted that in Elisha’s life alone “the gulf between biblical and church miracles almost disappears.”
The place which Elisha filled in contemporary history was one of great influence and importance, and several narratives testify to his great reputation in Israel. On one occasion, when he delivered the army that had been brought out against Moab from a threatened dearth of water (2 Kings iii.),2 he plainly intimates that, but for his regard to Jehoshaphat, the king of Judah, who was in alliance with Israel, he would not have interfered. Whether he was with the army or was supposed to be living in the desert is left obscure. An interesting touch is the influence of music upon the prophetic mind (v. 15). His next signal interference was during the incursions of the Syrians, when he disclosed the plans of the invaders to the “king of Israel” with such effect that they were again and again baffled. When the “king of Syria” was informed that “Elisha, the prophet that is in Israel, telleth the king of Israel the words that thou speakest in thy bed-chamber,” he at once sent an army to take him captive in Dothan. At Elisha’s prayer his terrified servant beheld an army of horses and chariots of fire surrounding the prophet. At a second prayer the invaders were struck blind, and in this state they were led by Elisha to Samaria, where their sight was restored. Their lives were spared at the command of the prophet, and they returned home so impressed that their incursions thenceforward ceased (vi. 8-23). This is immediately followed by the siege of Samaria by Benhadad which caused a famine of the severest kind. The calamity was imputed by the “king of Israel” to the influence of Elisha, and he ordered the prophet to be immediately put to death. Forewarned of the danger, Elisha ordered the messenger who had been sent to slay him to be detained at the door, and, when, immediately afterwards, the king himself came (“messenger” in vi. 33 should rather be king), predicted a great plenty within twenty-four hours. This was fulfilled by the flight of the Syrian army under the circumstances stated in ch. vii. After the episode with regard to the woman of Shunem (viii. 1-6), which is out of its chronological order, Elisha is represented as at Damascus (viii. 7-15). The reverence with which the foreign monarch Benhadad addressed Elisha deserves to be noted as showing the extent of the prophet’s influence. In sending to know the issue of his illness, the king caused himself to be styled “thy son Benhadad.” Equally remarkable is the very ambiguous nature of Elisha’s reply (viii. 10).3 The most important interference of Elisha in the history of his country constituted the fulfilment of the third of the commands laid upon Elijah. The work of anointing Jehu to be king over Israel was performed by deputy (ix. 1-3). During the forty-five years which the chronological scheme allows for the reigns of Jehu and Jehoahaz the narratives contain no notice of Elisha, but from the circumstances of his death (xiii. 14-21) it is clear that he had continued to enjoy the esteem of the dynasty which he had helped to found. Joash, the grandson of Jehu, waited on him on his death-bed, and addressed him in the words which he himself had used to Elijah: “My father, my father, the chariot of Israel and the horsemen thereof” (cf. ii. 12). By the result of a symbolic discharge of arrows he informed the king of his coming success against Syria, and immediately thereafter he died. The explicit statement that he was buried completes the contrast between him and his greater predecessor.
The role that Elisha played in modern history was one of significant influence and importance, and various accounts speak to his strong reputation in Israel. One time, when he saved the army facing a severe water shortage during a campaign against Moab (2 Kings iii.), he clearly indicated that, if it weren't for his regard for Jehoshaphat, the king of Judah, who was allied with Israel, he would not have gotten involved. It's unclear whether he was with the army or thought to be living in the desert. An interesting detail is how music affected the prophetic mind (v. 15). His next major intervention occurred during the attacks from the Syrians, when he revealed the invaders' plans to the “king of Israel,” effectively thwarting them repeatedly. When the “king of Syria” learned that “Elisha, the prophet in Israel, tells the king of Israel the words that you speak in your bedroom,” he immediately sent an army to capture him in Dothan. At Elisha's request, his terrified servant saw an army of horses and chariots of fire surrounding the prophet. With a second prayer, the invaders were struck blind and were led by Elisha to Samaria, where their sight was restored. The prophet commanded that their lives be spared, and they returned home so affected that their attacks stopped from then on (vi. 8-23). This was soon followed by the siege of Samaria by Benhadad, which caused a severe famine. The “king of Israel” blamed Elisha for the calamity and ordered that the prophet be killed immediately. Forewarned of the danger, Elisha had the messenger sent to kill him stopped at the door, and when the king himself came shortly after (the “messenger” in vi. 33 should actually be king), he predicted that there would be great abundance within twenty-four hours. This came true when the Syrian army fled under the circumstances described in ch. vii. After the incident with the woman from Shunem (viii. 1-6), which is out of order chronologically, Elisha is depicted as being in Damascus (viii. 7-15). The respect with which the foreign king Benhadad addressed Elisha is noteworthy, demonstrating the extent of the prophet’s influence. When the king sent to inquire about the outcome of his illness, he referred to himself as “your son Benhadad.” Equally striking is the ambiguous nature of Elisha’s response (viii. 10). The most significant intervention of Elisha in his country’s history fulfilled the third command given to Elijah. The task of anointing Jehu as king over Israel was carried out by a deputy (ix. 1-3). During the forty-five years covered by the reigns of Jehu and Jehoahaz, the narratives mention no acts by Elisha, but from the details surrounding his death (xiii. 14-21), it's clear that he continued to be respected by the dynasty he had helped establish. Joash, the grandson of Jehu, visited him on his deathbed and addressed him with the same words he had used for Elijah: “My father, my father, the chariot of Israel and its horsemen” (cf. ii. 12). Through a symbolic act with arrows, he informed the king of his upcoming victory against Syria, and shortly after that, he died. The clear statement that he was buried emphasizes the contrast between him and his greater predecessor.
On the narratives, see Kings. In general those where “the prophet appears as on friendly terms with the king, and possessed of influence at court (e.g. 2 Kings iv. 13, vi. 9, vi. 21, compared with xiii. 14), plainly belong to the time of Jehu’s dynasty, though they are related before the fall of the house of Omri. We can distinguish portions of an historical narrative which speaks of Elisha in connexion with events of public interest, without making him the central figure, and a series of anecdotes of properly biographical character.... In the latter we may distinguish one circle connected with Gilgal, Jericho and the Jordan valley to which Abel-Meholah belongs (iv. 1-7? 38-44, v.? vi. 1-7). Here Elisha appears as the head of the prophetic gilds, having his fixed residence at Gilgal.4 Another circle, which presupposes the accession of the house of Jehu, places him at Dothan or Carmel, and represents him as a personage of almost superhuman dignity. Here there is an obvious parallelism with the history of Elijah, especially with his ascension (cf. 2 Kings vi. 17 with ii. 11; xiii. 14 with ii. 12); and it is to this group of narratives that the ascension of Elijah forms the introduction” (Robertson Smith, Ency. Brit., 9th ed., art. Kings, vol. xiv. p. 186). This twofold representation finds a parallel in the narratives of Samuel, whose history and the conditions reflected therein are analogous to the life and times of Elisha.
On the narratives, see Kings. Generally, those where “the prophet appears to be on friendly terms with the king and has influence at court (e.g. 2 Kings iv. 13, vi. 9, vi. 21, compared with xiii. 14) clearly belong to the time of Jehu’s dynasty, even though they are discussed before the fall of the house of Omri. We can identify parts of a historical narrative that mention Elisha in connection with public events, without making him the main focus, as well as a series of stories with a biographical nature.... In the latter, we can identify one group related to Gilgal, Jericho, and the Jordan valley, which includes Abel-Meholah (iv. 1-7? 38-44, v.? vi. 1-7). Here, Elisha is portrayed as the leader of the prophetic groups, with his main residence at Gilgal.4 Another group, which assumes the rise of the house of Jehu, places him at Dothan or Carmel, depicting him as a figure of almost superhuman stature. There is a clear parallel with the story of Elijah, particularly regarding his ascension (cf. 2 Kings vi. 17 with ii. 11; xiii. 14 with ii. 12); and to this group of narratives, the ascension of Elijah serves as the introduction” (Robertson Smith, Ency. Brit., 9th ed., art. Kings, vol. xiv. p. 186). This dual representation can be seen in the narratives of Samuel, whose story and the related circumstances are similar to the life and times of Elisha.
Elisha is canonized in the Orthodox Eastern Church, his festival being on the 14th of June, under which date his life is entered in the Acta sanctorum.
Elisha is recognized as a saint in the Orthodox Eastern Church, with his feast day celebrated on June 14th, the date on which his life is recorded in the Acta sanctorum.
See especially, W.R. Smith, Prophets of Israel (Index, s.v.), and the literature to Elijah; Kings, Books of; Prophet.
See especially, W.R. Smith, Prophets of Israel (Index, s.v.), and the literature to Elijah; Kings, Books of; Prophet.
1 Similarly Elijah enforces respect for the prophetic office in i. 9 sqq. Prof. Kennett points out to the present writer that the epithet “bald-head” may refer to the sign of mourning for Elisha’s lost master (cf. Ez. vii. 18, Deut. xiv. 1); “Go up” is perhaps to be taken literally (in reference to Elijah’s translation).
1 Similarly, Elijah demands respect for the prophetic role in i. 9 sqq. Prof. Kennett points out to me that the term “bald-head” might indicate mourning for Elisha’s deceased master (see Ez. vii. 18, Deut. xiv. 1); “Go up” could be taken literally (referring to Elijah’s ascension).
2 The method of obtaining water (v. 16 sq.) is that which still gives its name to the Wādi el-Aḥsā (“valley of water pits”) at the southern end of the Dead Sea (Old Test. Jew. Church, 2nd ed., 147). On the other hand, see Burney, Heb. Text of Kings, p. 270.
2 The way to get water (v. 16 sq.) is what still gives its name to the Wādi el-Aḥsā (“valley of water pits”) at the southern end of the Dead Sea (Old Test. Jew. Church, 2nd ed., 147). On the other hand, see Burney, Heb. Text of Kings, p. 270.
3 R. V. marg. is an alteration to remove from Elisha the suggestion of an untruth.
3 R. V. marg. is a change made to take away the implication of dishonesty from Elisha.
4 The Gilgal of Elisha is near the Jordan—comp. vi. 1 with iv. 38, שבים לפניו,—and cannot be other than the great sanctuary 2 m. from Jericho, the local holiness of which is still attested in the Onomastica. It is true that in 2 Kings ii. 1 Bethel seems to lie between Gilgal and Jericho; but v. 25 shows that Gilgal was not originally represented as Elisha’s residence in this narrative, which belongs to the Carmel-Dothan series. On the other hand, for the identification with the Gilgal (Jiljilia) S.W. of Shiloh, see G.A. Smith, Ency. Bib. (s.v. Gilgal); Burney, op. cit., p. 264; Skinner, Century Bible: Kings, p. 278.
4 The Gilgal of Elisha is located near the Jordan—compare vi. 1 with iv. 38, שבים לפניו—and it can only be the significant sanctuary 2 miles from Jericho, the local holiness of which is still confirmed in the Onomastica. While in 2 Kings ii. 1 it seems like Bethel is between Gilgal and Jericho, verse 25 indicates that Gilgal wasn’t originally depicted as Elisha’s home in this narrative, which is part of the Carmel-Dothan series. Conversely, for the identification with the Gilgal (Jiljilia) southwest of Shiloh, see G.A. Smith, Ency. Bib. (s.v. Gilgal); Burney, op. cit., p. 264; Skinner, Century Bible: Kings, p. 278.
ELISHA BEN ABUYAH (c. A.D. 100), a unique figure among the Palestinian Jews of the first Christian century. He was born before the destruction of the Temple (which occurred in A.D. 70) and survived into the 2nd century. It is not easy to decide as to his exact attitude towards Judaism. That he refused to accept the current rabbinical views is certain, though the Talmud cites his legal decisions. Most authorities believe that he was a Gnostic; but while it is certain that he was not a Christian, it is possible that he was simply a Sadducee, and thus an opponent not of Judaism but of Pharisaism. His disciple, the famous Pharisee Meir, remained his steadfast friend, and his efforts to reclaim his former master are among the most pathetic incidents in the Talmud. In later ages Elisha (aḥer “the other,” as he was named) was regarded as the type of a heretic whose pride of intellect betrayed him into infidelity to law and morals. Without much appropriateness Elisha has been sometimes described as the “Faust of the Talmud.”
ELISHA BEN ABUYAH (c. CE 100) was a distinct figure among the Palestinian Jews during the first Christian century. He was born before the destruction of the Temple (which happened in CE 70) and lived into the 2nd century. It's not easy to determine his exact stance on Judaism. It is clear that he rejected the prevailing rabbinical views, although the Talmud records his legal decisions. Most scholars think he was a Gnostic; however, while it’s certain he wasn't a Christian, he might have simply been a Sadducee, making him an opponent not of Judaism but of Pharisaism. His disciple, the renowned Pharisee Meir, remained a loyal friend, and his attempts to win back his former teacher are among the most touching stories in the Talmud. In later generations, Elisha (aḥer “the other,” as he came to be known) was seen as the archetype of a heretic whose intellectual pride led him to turn away from law and morals. Elisha has sometimes been inappropriately referred to as the “Faust of the Talmud.”
ELIXIR (from the Arabic al-iksir, probably an adaptation of the Gr. ξήριον, a powder used for drying wounds, from ξηρός, dry), in alchemy, the medium which would effect the transmutation of base metals into gold; it probably included all such substances—vapours, liquids, &c.—and had a wider meaning than “philosopher’s stone.” The same term, more fully elixir 282 vitae, elixir of life, was given to the substance which would indefinitely prolong life; it was considered to be closely related to, or even identical with, the substance for transmuting metals. In pharmacy the word was formerly given to a strong extract or tincture, but it is only used now for an aromatic sweet preparation, containing one or more drugs, and in such expressions as “elixir of vitriol,” a mixture of sulphuric acid, cinnamon, ginger and alcohol.
ELIXIR (from the Arabic al-iksir, likely a variation of the Greek ξήριον, a powder used for drying wounds, from dry, meaning dry), in alchemy, refers to the substance that would transform base metals into gold; it probably encompassed all kinds of materials—vapors, liquids, etc.—and had a broader meaning than just “philosopher’s stone.” The same term, more completely elixir 282 vitae, meaning elixir of life, referred to the substance that could extend life indefinitely; it was thought to be closely related to, or even the same as, the substance used for metal transmutation. In pharmacy, the term was once used for a strong extract or tincture, but nowadays it is only used for an aromatic sweet preparation that contains one or more drugs, as well as in phrases like “elixir of vitriol,” which is a blend of sulfuric acid, cinnamon, ginger, and alcohol.
ELIZABETH (1533-1603), queen of England and Ireland, born on Sunday the 7th of September 1533, and, like all the Tudors except Henry VII., at Greenwich Palace, was the only surviving child of Henry VIII. by his second queen, Anne Boleyn. With such a mother and with Cranmer as her godfather she represented from her birth the principle of revolt from Rome, but the opponents of that movement attached little importance to her advent into the world. Charles V.’s ambassador, Chapuys, hardly deigned to mention the fact that the king’s amie had given birth to a daughter, and both her parents were bitterly disappointed with her sex. She was, however, given precedence over Mary, her elder sister by sixteen years, and Mary never forgave the infant’s offence. Even this dubious advantage only lasted three years until her mother was beheaded, and by a much more serious freak on Henry’s part “divorced.” Elizabeth has been censured for having made no effort in later years to clear her mother’s memory; but no vindication of Anne’s character could have rehabilitated Elizabeth’s legitimacy. Her mother was not “divorced” for her alleged adultery, because that crime was no ground for divorce by Roman or English canon law. The marriage was declared invalid ab initio either on the ground of Anne’s precontract with Lord Percy or more probably on the ground of the affinity established between Henry and Anne by Henry’s previous relations with Mary Boleyn.
ELIZABETH (1533-1603), queen of England and Ireland, was born on Sunday, September 7, 1533, at Greenwich Palace. Like all the Tudors, except Henry VII, she was the only surviving child of Henry VIII and his second wife, Anne Boleyn. From her birth, she symbolized a break from Rome, given her mother's role and Cranmer as her godfather, but the opponents of that movement didn’t think much of her arrival. Charles V’s ambassador, Chapuys, barely acknowledged that the king’s mistress had given birth to a daughter, and her parents were both deeply disappointed by her gender. However, she was prioritized over her elder sister Mary by sixteen years, and Mary never forgave her for this perceived slight. This questionable advantage lasted only three years until her mother was executed and, in an even more drastic action by Henry, “divorced.” Elizabeth has faced criticism for not going out of her way to defend her mother’s reputation later in life; however, no defense of Anne’s character could have legitimized Elizabeth’s status. Her mother was not “divorced” for alleged adultery, as that was not a valid reason for divorce under Roman or English canon law. The marriage was declared invalid ab initio, either due to Anne’s prior arrangement with Lord Percy or, more likely, because of the relationship between Henry and Anne that stemmed from Henry’s previous affair with Mary Boleyn.
Elizabeth thus lost all hereditary title to the throne, and her early years of childhood can hardly have been happier than Mary’s. Nor was her legitimacy ever legally established; but after Jane Seymour’s death, when Henry seemed likely to have no further issue, she was by act of parliament placed next in order of the succession after Edward and Mary and their issue; and this statutory arrangement was confirmed by the will which Henry VIII. was empowered by statute to make. Queen Catherine Parr introduced some humanity into Henry’s household, and Edward and Elizabeth were well and happily educated together, principally at old Hatfield House, which is now the marquess of Salisbury’s stables. They were there when Henry’s death called Edward VI. away to greater dignities, and Elizabeth was left in the care of Catherine Parr, who married in indecent haste Thomas, Lord Seymour, brother of the protector Somerset. This unprincipled adventurer, even before Catherine’s death in September 1548, paid indelicate attentions to Elizabeth. Any attempt to marry her without the council’s leave would have been treason on his part and would have deprived Elizabeth of her contingent right to the succession. Accordingly, when Seymour’s other misbehaviour led to his arrest, his relations with Elizabeth were made the subject of a very trying investigation, which gave Elizabeth her first lessons in the feminine arts of self-defence. She proved equal to the occasion, partly because she was in all probability innocent of anything worse than a qualified acquiescence in Seymour’s improprieties and a girlish admiration for his handsome face. He or his tragic fate may have touched a deeper chord, but it was carefully concealed; and although in later years Elizabeth seems to have cherished his memory, and certainly showed no love for his brother’s children, at the time she only showed resentment at the indignities inflicted on herself.
Elizabeth thus lost all hereditary claim to the throne, and her early childhood likely wasn't much happier than Mary’s. Her legitimacy was never legally confirmed; however, after Jane Seymour’s death, when it seemed Henry would have no other children, she was placed by an act of parliament next in line for the succession after Edward and Mary and their descendants. This arrangement was also confirmed by Henry VIII's will, which he was allowed to make by statute. Queen Catherine Parr brought some compassion into Henry’s household, and Edward and Elizabeth were educated together, mostly at the old Hatfield House, which is now the marquess of Salisbury’s stables. They were there when Henry’s death led Edward VI. to greater responsibilities, leaving Elizabeth in the care of Catherine Parr, who quickly remarried Thomas, Lord Seymour, brother of Protector Somerset. This opportunist, even before Catherine died in September 1548, showed inappropriate interest in Elizabeth. Any effort to marry her without the council’s permission would have been treasonous on his part and would have jeopardized Elizabeth’s potential claim to the succession. So, when Seymour’s other misconduct led to his arrest, his relationship with Elizabeth became the focus of a very challenging investigation, which taught Elizabeth her first lessons in self-protection. She handled the situation well, likely because she was probably innocent of anything more than a passive acceptance of Seymour’s behavior and a youthful crush on his good looks. He or his tragic fate may have resonated more deeply with her, but she kept that hidden; although in later years Elizabeth seemed to hold onto his memory and showed no affection for his brother’s children, at that time she primarily felt bitterness towards the humiliations she endured.
For the rest of Edward’s reign Elizabeth’s life was less tempestuous. She hardly rivalled Lady Jane Grey as the ideal Puritan maiden, but she swam with the stream, and was regarded as a foil to her stubborn Catholic sister. She thus avoided the enmity and the still more dangerous favour of Northumberland; and some unknown history lies behind the duke’s preference of the Lady Jane to Elizabeth as his son’s wife and his own puppet for the throne. She thus escaped shipwreck in his crazy vessel, and rode by Mary’s side in triumph into London on the failure of the plot. For a time she was safe enough; she would not renounce her Protestantism until Catholicism had been made the law of the land, but she followed Gardiner’s advice to her father when he said it was better that he should make the law his will than try to make his will the law. As a presumptive ruler of England she was, like Cecil, and for that matter the future archbishop Parker also, too shrewd to commit herself to passive or active resistance to the law; and they merely anticipated Hobbes in holding that the individual committed no sin in subordinating his conscience to the will of the state, for the responsibility for the law was not his but the state’s. Their position was well enough understood in those days; it was known that they were heretics at heart, and that when their turn came they would once more overthrow Catholicism and expect a similar submission from the Catholics.
For the rest of Edward’s reign, Elizabeth’s life was less tumultuous. She didn’t quite match Lady Jane Grey as the ideal Puritan maiden, but she went along with the crowd and was seen as a contrast to her stubborn Catholic sister. This way, she avoided the rivalry and the even more dangerous favor of Northumberland; there's some unknown history behind the duke’s preference for Lady Jane over Elizabeth as his son’s wife and his own puppet for the throne. She managed to escape disaster in his crazy scheme and rode alongside Mary in triumph into London after the plot failed. For a while, she was safe enough; she wouldn’t renounce her Protestantism until Catholicism became the law of the land, but she followed Gardiner’s advice to her father when he said it was better for him to make the law his will than to try to make his will the law. As a potential ruler of England, she was, like Cecil and, for that matter, the future archbishop Parker, too smart to commit to either passive or active resistance to the law; they merely anticipated Hobbes in believing that an individual didn’t sin by subordinating their conscience to the will of the state, since the responsibility for the law rested not with them but with the state. Their stance was well understood back then; everyone knew they were heretics at heart, and that when their time came, they would once again overthrow Catholicism and expect a similar submission from the Catholics.
It was not so much Elizabeth’s religion as her nearness to the throne and the circumstances of her birth that endangered her life in Mary’s reign. While Mary was popular Elizabeth was safe; but as soon as the Spanish marriage project had turned away English hearts Elizabeth inevitably became the centre of plots and the hope of the plotters. Had not Lady Jane still been alive to take off the edge of Mary’s indignation and suspicion Elizabeth might have paid forfeit for Wyat’s rebellion with her life instead of imprisonment. She may have had interviews with French agents who helped to foment the insurrection; but she was strong and wary enough to avoid Henry II.’s, as she had avoided Northumberland’s, toils; for even in case of success she would have been the French king’s puppet, placed on the throne, if at all, merely to keep it warm for Henry’s prospective daughter-in-law, Mary Stuart. This did not make Mary Tudor any more friendly, and, although the story that Elizabeth favoured Courtenay and that Mary was jealous is a ridiculous fiction, the Spaniards cried loud and long for Elizabeth’s execution. She was sent to the Tower in March 1554, but few Englishmen were fanatic enough to want a Tudor beheaded. The great nobles, the Howards, and Gardiner would not hear of such a proposal; and all the efforts of the court throughout Mary’s reign failed to induce parliament to listen to the suggestion that Elizabeth should be deprived of her legal right to the succession. After two months in the Tower she was transferred to Sir Henry Bedingfield’s charge at Woodstock, and at Christmas, when the realm had been reconciled to Rome and Mary was expecting issue, Elizabeth was once more received at court. In the autumn of 1555 she went down to Hatfield, where she spent most of the rest of Mary’s reign, enjoying the lessons of Ascham and Baldassare Castiglione, and planting trees which still survive.
It wasn't so much Elizabeth’s religion but her closeness to the throne and her birth circumstances that put her life in danger during Mary’s reign. While Mary was popular, Elizabeth was safe; but once the Spanish marriage plan turned the English against it, Elizabeth inevitably became the focal point for conspiracies and the hope of the conspirators. If Lady Jane hadn’t still been alive to soften Mary’s anger and suspicion, Elizabeth might have faced the death penalty for Wyatt’s rebellion instead of just imprisonment. She may have met with French agents who helped stir up the uprising, but she was strong and cautious enough to steer clear of Henry II’s traps, just as she had avoided those set by Northumberland; for even if successful, she would have been a puppet of the French king, placed on the throne merely to keep it warm for Henry’s future daughter-in-law, Mary Stuart. This didn’t make Mary Tudor any friendlier, and while the story that Elizabeth favored Courtenay, causing Mary to be jealous, is complete nonsense, the Spaniards shouted loudly for Elizabeth’s execution. She was sent to the Tower in March 1554, but few Englishmen were extreme enough to want a Tudor to be beheaded. The prominent nobles, including the Howards and Gardiner, wouldn’t support such a proposal; and all the efforts of the court throughout Mary’s reign failed to convince Parliament to consider taking away Elizabeth’s legal right to the succession. After two months in the Tower, she was moved to Sir Henry Bedingfield’s care at Woodstock, and at Christmas, when the kingdom had reconciled with Rome and Mary was expecting a child, Elizabeth was welcomed back to court. In the autumn of 1555, she went to Hatfield, where she spent most of the rest of Mary’s reign, enjoying lessons from Ascham and Baldassare Castiglione, and planting trees that still stand today.
She had only to bide her time while Mary made straight her successor’s path by uprooting whatever affection the English people had for the Catholic faith, Roman jurisdiction and Spanish control. The Protestant martyrs and Calais between them removed all the alternatives to an insular national English policy in church and in state; and no sovereign was better qualified to lead such a cause than the queen who ascended the throne amid universal, and the Spaniards thought indecent, rejoicings at Mary’s death on the 17th of November 1558. “Mere English” she boasted of being, and after Englishmen’s recent experience there was no surer title to popular favour. No sovereign since Harold had been so purely English in blood; her nearest foreign ancestor was Catherine of France, the widow of Henry V., and no English king or queen was more superbly insular in character or in policy. She was the unmistakable child of the age so far as Englishmen shared in its characteristics, for with her English aims she combined some Italian methods and ideas. “An Englishman Italianate,” ran the current jingle, “is a devil incarnate,” and Elizabeth was well versed in Italian scholarship and statecraft. Italians, especially Bernardino Ochino, had given her religious instruction, and the Italians who rejected Catholicism usually adopted far more advanced forms of heresy than Lutheranism, Zwinglianism, or even Calvinism. Elizabeth herself patronized Giacomo Acontio, who thought dogma a “stratagema Satanae,” and her last favourite, Essex 283 was accused of being the ringleader of “a damnable crew of atheists.” A Spanish ambassador early in the reign thought that Elizabeth’s own religion was equally negative, though she told him she agreed with nearly everything in the Augsburg Confession. She was probably not at liberty to say what she really thought, but she made up by saying a great many things which she did not mean. It is clear enough that, although, like her father, she was fond of ritual, she was absolutely devoid of the religious temperament, and that her ecclesiastical preferences were dictated by political considerations. She was sincere enough in her dislike of Roman jurisdiction and of Calvinism; a daughter of Anne Boleyn could have little affection for a system which made her a bastard, and all monarchs agreed at heart with James I.’s aphorism about “no bishop, no king.” It was convenient, too, to profess Lutheran sympathies, for Lutheranism was now an established, monarchical and comparatively respectable religion, very different from the Calvinism against which monarchs directed the Counter-reformation from political motives. Lutheran dogma, however, had few adherents in England, though its political theory coincided with that of Anglicanism in the 16th century. The compromise that resulted from these conflicting forces suited Elizabeth very well; she had little dislike of Catholics who repudiated the papacy, but she was forced to rely mainly on Protestants, and had little respect for any form of ecclesiastical self-government. She valued uniformity in religion, not as a safeguard against heresy, but as a guarantee of the unity of the state. She respected the bishops only as supporters of her throne; and, although the well-known letter beginning “Proud Prelate” is an 18th-century forgery, it is hardly a travesty of Elizabeth’s attitude.
She just had to wait while Mary cleared the way for her successor by getting rid of any affection the English people had for the Catholic faith, Roman authority, and Spanish control. The Protestant martyrs and Calais together eliminated all alternatives to an insular national policy in both church and state; and no ruler was better suited to lead such a cause than the queen who took the throne amidst widespread celebrations — which the Spaniards considered outrageous — at Mary’s death on November 17, 1558. She proudly claimed to be “just English,” and after the recent experiences of Englishmen, there was no better way to gain public favor. No monarch since Harold had been so purely English by blood; her closest foreign ancestor was Catherine of France, Henry V's widow, and no English king or queen exhibited a more distinctly insular character or policy. She was undeniably a product of her time as far as Englishmen shared its traits, for along with her English goals she incorporated some Italian methods and ideas. The saying went, “An Englishman who tries to be Italian is a devil incarnate,” and Elizabeth was well-versed in Italian studies and political tactics. Italians, particularly Bernardino Ochino, had taught her about religion, and those Italians who rejected Catholicism often adopted much more radical forms of heresy than Lutheranism, Zwinglianism, or even Calvinism. Elizabeth even supported Giacomo Acontio, who viewed dogma as a “strategem of Satan,” and her last favorite, Essex, was accused of leading “a wicked group of atheists.” A Spanish ambassador early in her reign believed that Elizabeth's personal beliefs were equally vague, even though she told him she agreed with most of the Augsburg Confession. She probably wasn't free to express her true thoughts but made up for it by saying a lot of things she didn't really mean. It's pretty clear that, although she enjoyed ritual like her father, she completely lacked the religious temperament, and her church preferences were mainly driven by political needs. She was genuinely averse to Roman authority and Calvinism; as a daughter of Anne Boleyn, she couldn't have much love for a system that labeled her a bastard, and all monarchs secretly agreed with James I's saying about “no bishop, no king.” It was also convenient to show support for Lutheranism, as it was now an established, monarchy-approved, and relatively respectable religion, unlike the Calvinism that monarchs targeted during the Counter-Reformation for political reasons. However, Lutheran doctrine had few followers in England, even though its political theory aligned with that of Anglicanism in the 16th century. The compromise that arose from these conflicting forces worked perfectly for Elizabeth; she didn't mind Catholics who rejected the papacy, but she mainly relied on Protestants and had little respect for any form of church self-rule. She valued religious uniformity, not as a way to protect against heresy, but as a way to ensure the unity of the state. She respected the bishops only as supporters of her throne; and although the famous letter that starts with “Proud Prelate” is an 18th-century forgery, it hardly misrepresents Elizabeth’s attitude.
The outlines of her foreign policy are sketched elsewhere (see English History), and her courtships were diplomatic. Contemporary gossip, which was probably justified, said that she was debarred from matrimony by a physical defect; and her cry when she heard that Mary queen of Scots had given birth to a son is the most womanly thing recorded of Elizabeth. Her features were as handsome as Mary’s, but she had little fascination, and in spite of her many suitors no man lost his head over Elizabeth as men did over Mary. She was far too masculine in mind and temperament, and her extravagant addiction to the outward trappings of femininity was probably due to the absence or atrophy of deeper feminine instincts. In the same way the impossibility of marriage made her all the freer with her flirtations, and she carried some of them to lengths that scandalized a public unconscious of Elizabeth’s security. She had every reason to keep them in the dark, and to convince other courts that she could and would marry if the provocation were sufficient. She could not marry Philip II., but she held out hopes to more than one of his Austrian cousins whenever France or Mary Stuart seemed to threaten; and later she encouraged two French princes when Philip had lost patience with Elizabeth and made Mary Stuart his protégée. Her other suitors were less important, except Leicester, who appealed to the least intellectual side of Elizabeth and was always a cause of distraction in her policy and her ministers.
The details of her foreign policy are outlined elsewhere (see English History), and her relationships were diplomatic. Contemporary gossip, which was likely accurate, suggested that she was unable to marry due to a physical issue; her reaction upon hearing that Mary, Queen of Scots, had given birth to a son is the most feminine thing recorded about Elizabeth. Her looks were as striking as Mary’s, but she had little charm, and despite her many admirers, no man became infatuated with Elizabeth as they did with Mary. She was much too masculine in her thoughts and temperament, and her extreme desire for the outward signs of femininity was probably due to a lack or weakening of deeper feminine instincts. Likewise, the impossibility of marriage made her freer with her flirtations, some of which scandalized a public unaware of Elizabeth’s confidence. She had every reason to keep them in the dark and to convince other courts that she could and would marry if the right circumstances arose. She couldn’t marry Philip II., but she dangled the prospect in front of several of his Austrian cousins whenever France or Mary Stuart appeared to be a threat; later, she encouraged two French princes when Philip grew impatient with Elizabeth and made Mary Stuart his ward. Her other suitors were less significant, except for Leicester, who stimulated Elizabeth's less intellectual side and often distracted her from her policies and her ministers.
Elizabeth was terribly handicapped by having no heirs of her body and no obvious English successor. She could not afford to recognize Mary’s claim, for that would have been to alienate the Protestants, double the number of Catholics, and, in her own phrase, to spread a winding-sheet before her eyes; for all would have turned to the rising sun. Mary was dangerous enough as it was, and no one would willingly make his rival his heir. Elizabeth could hardly be expected to go out of her way and ask parliament to repeal its own acts for Mary’s sake; probably it would have refused. Nor was it personal enmity on Elizabeth’s part that brought Mary to the block. Parliament had long been ferociously demanding Mary’s execution, not because she was guilty but because she was dangerous to the public peace. She alone could have given the Spanish Armada any real chance of success; and as the prospect of invasion loomed larger on the horizon, fiercer grew the popular determination to remove the only possible centre of a domestic rising, without which the external attack was bound to be a failure. Elizabeth resisted the demand, not from compassion or qualms of conscience, but because she dreaded the responsibility for Mary’s death. She wished Paulet would manage the business on his own account, and when at last her signature was extorted she made a scapegoat of her secretary Davison who had the warrant executed.
Elizabeth was seriously disadvantaged by not having any heirs and no clear English successor. She couldn't afford to acknowledge Mary's claim, as that would alienate the Protestants, increase the number of Catholics, and, in her own words, spread a shroud before her eyes; everyone would have rallied around the rising sun. Mary was already dangerous enough, and no one would willingly designate their rival as their heir. Elizabeth couldn't be expected to go out of her way to ask Parliament to repeal its own acts for Mary's benefit; it probably would have refused. Elizabeth's decision to execute Mary wasn't motivated by personal hatred; Parliament had long been fiercely calling for her execution, not because she was guilty, but because she posed a threat to public peace. She alone could have given the Spanish Armada a real chance of succeeding, and as the possibility of invasion grew more imminent, the public's determination to eliminate the only potential center of domestic unrest increased, knowing that without it, any external attack would likely fail. Elizabeth resisted the demand, not out of compassion or guilt, but because she feared the responsibility of signing Mary’s death warrant. She wished Paulet would handle the situation independently, and when her signature was finally forced, she made Davison, her secretary, the scapegoat for carrying out the warrant.
The other great difficulty, apart from the succession, with which Elizabeth had to deal arose from the exuberant aggressiveness of England, which she could not, and perhaps did not want to, repress. Religion was not really the cause of her external dangers, for the time had passed for crusades, and no foreign power seriously contemplated an armed invasion of England for religion’s sake. But no state could long tolerate the affronts which English seamen offered Spain. The common view that the British Empire has been won by purely defensive action is not tenable, and from the beginning of her reign Englishmen had taken the offensive, partly from religious but also from other motives. They were determined to break up the Spanish monopoly in the new world, and in the pursuit of this endeavour they were led to challenge Spain in the old. For nearly thirty years Philip put up with the capture of his treasure-ships, the raiding of his colonies and the open assistance rendered to his rebels. Only when he had reached the conclusion that his power would never be secure in the Netherlands or the New World until England was conquered, did he despatch the Spanish Armada. Elizabeth delayed the breach as long as she could, probably because she knew that war meant taxation, and that taxation was the most prolific parent of revolt.
The other major challenge, aside from succession, that Elizabeth faced came from England's aggressive nature, which she couldn't and maybe didn't want to control. Religion wasn't really the reason for her external threats, as the era of crusades had ended, and no foreign power was seriously considering invading England for religious reasons. However, no nation could endure the insults that English sailors directed at Spain. The common belief that the British Empire was built solely through defensive actions is not accurate; from the start of her reign, the English had taken the offensive, driven by both religious and other motives. They were determined to dismantle Spain's monopoly in the New World and, in doing so, began to challenge Spain in the Old World. For nearly thirty years, Philip tolerated the capture of his treasure ships, the raiding of his colonies, and the open support given to his rebels. Only when he concluded that his power in the Netherlands and the New World would never be secure until England was defeated did he send the Spanish Armada. Elizabeth delayed the conflict for as long as she could, likely because she understood that war meant taxes, and taxes were a major cause of rebellion.
With the defeat of the Spanish Armada Elizabeth’s work was done, and during the last fifteen years of her reign she got more out of touch with her people. That period was one of gradual transition to the conditions of Stuart times; during it practically every claim was put forward that was made under the first two Stuarts either on behalf of parliament or the prerogative, and Elizabeth’s attitude towards the Puritans was hardly distinguishable from James I.’s. But her past was in her favour, and so were her sex and her Tudor tact, which checked the growth of discontent and made Essex’s rebellion a ridiculous fiasco. He was the last and the most wilful but perhaps the best of her favourites, and his tragic fate deepened the gloom of her closing years. The loneliness of a queen who had no husband or children and no relatives to mention must at all times have been oppressive; it grew desolating in old age after the deaths of Leicester, Walsingham, Burghley and Essex, and Elizabeth died, the last of her race, on the 24th of March 1603.
With the defeat of the Spanish Armada, Elizabeth’s job was done, and during the last fifteen years of her reign, she became more disconnected from her people. That time marked a gradual shift to the conditions of the Stuart era; during it, practically every claim made by the first two Stuarts was asserted either on behalf of parliament or the royal prerogative, and Elizabeth’s stance towards the Puritans was hardly different from that of James I. However, her history worked in her favor, as did her gender and her Tudor diplomacy, which kept discontent at bay and turned Essex’s rebellion into a ridiculous failure. He was her last and most willful favorite, but perhaps the best, and his tragic end added to the sadness of her later years. The isolation of a queen without a husband, children, or notable relatives must have been heavy at all times; it became particularly bleak in her old age after the deaths of Leicester, Walsingham, Burghley, and Essex, and Elizabeth died, the last of her lineage, on March 24, 1603.
Bishop Creighton’s Queen Elizabeth (1896) is the best biography; there are others by E.S. Beesly (Twelve English Statesmen, 1892); Lucy Aikin, Memoirs of the Court of Queen Elizabeth (1818); and T. Wright, Queen Elizabeth and her Times (1838). See also A. Jessopp’s article in the Dict. Nat. Biog.
Bishop Creighton's Queen Elizabeth (1896) is the best biography; other notable works include those by E.S. Beesly (Twelve English Statesmen, 1892); Lucy Aikin, Memoirs of the Court of Queen Elizabeth (1818); and T. Wright, Queen Elizabeth and her Times (1838). Also, check out A. Jessopp's article in the Dict. Nat. Biog.
ELIZABETH [PETROVNA] (1709-1762), Empress of Russia, the daughter of Peter the Great and Martha Skovronskaya, born at Kolomenskoye, near Moscow, on the 18th of December 1709. Even as a child her parts were good, if not brilliant, but unfortunately her education was both imperfect and desultory. Her father had no leisure to devote to her training, and her mother was too illiterate to superintend her studies. She had a French governess, however, and at a later day picked up some Italian, German and Swedish, and could converse in these languages with more fluency than accuracy. From her earliest years she delighted every one by her extraordinary beauty and vivacity. It was Peter’s intention to marry his second daughter to the young French king Louis XV., but the pride of the Bourbons revolted against any such alliance. Other connubial speculations foundered on the personal dislike of the princess for the various suitors proposed to her, so that on the death of her mother (May 1727) and the departure to Holstein of her beloved sister Anne, her only remaining near relation, the princess found herself at the age of eighteen practically her own mistress. So long as Menshikov remained in power, she was treated with liberality and distinction by the government of Peter II., but the Dolgorukis, who supplanted Menshikov and hated the memory of Peter the Great, practically banished Peter’s daughter 284 from court. Elizabeth had inherited her father’s sensual temperament and, being free from all control, abandoned herself to her appetites without reserve. While still in her teens, she made a lover of Alexius Shubin, a sergeant in the Semenovsky Guards, and after his banishment to Siberia, minus his tongue, by order of the empress Anne, consoled herself with a handsome young Cossack, Alexius Razumovski, who, there is good reason to believe, subsequently became her husband. During the reign of her cousin Anne (1730-1740), Elizabeth effaced herself as much as possible; but under the regency of Anne Leopoldovna the course of events compelled the indolent but by no means incapable beauty to overthrow the existing government. The idea seems to have been first suggested to her by the French ambassador, La Chétardie, who was plotting to destroy the Austrian influence then dominant at the Russian court. It is a mistake to suppose, however, that La Chétardie took a leading part in the revolution which placed the daughter of Peter the Great on the Russian throne. As a matter of fact, beyond lending the tsesarevna 2000 ducats, instead of the 15,000 she demanded of him, he took no part whatever in the actual coup d’état which was as great a surprise to him as to every one else. The merit and glory of that singular affair belong to Elizabeth alone. The fear of being imprisoned in a convent for the rest of her life was the determining cause of her irresistible outburst of energy. At midnight on the 6th of December 1741, with a few personal friends, including her physician, Armand Lestocq, her chamberlain, Michael Ilarionvich Vorontsov, her future husband, Alexius Razumovski, and Alexander and Peter Shuvalov, two of the gentlemen of her household, she drove to the barracks of the Preobrazhensky Guards, enlisted their sympathies by a stirring speech, and led them to the Winter Palace, where the regent was reposing in absolute security. Having on the way thither had all the ministers arrested, she seized the regent and her children in their beds, and summoned all the notables, civil and ecclesiastical, to her presence. So swiftly and noiselessly indeed had the whole revolution proceeded that as late as eight o’clock the next morning very few people in the city were aware of it. Thus, at the age of three-and-thirty, this naturally indolent and self-indulgent woman, with little knowledge and no experience of affairs, suddenly found herself at the head of a great empire at one of the most critical periods of its existence. Fortunately for herself, and for Russia, Elizabeth Petrovna, with all her shortcomings, had inherited some of her father’s genius for government. Her usually keen judgment and her diplomatic tact again and again recall Peter the Great. What in her sometimes seemed irresolution and procrastination, was, most often, a wise suspense of judgment under exceptionally difficult circumstances; and to this may be added that she was ever ready to sacrifice the prejudices of the woman to the duty of the sovereign.
ELIZABETH [PETROVNA] (1709-1762), Russian Empress, the daughter of Peter the Great and Martha Skovronskaya, was born in Kolomenskoye, near Moscow, on December 18, 1709. Even as a child, she was good-looking and lively, though unfortunately her education was unsatisfactory and inconsistent. Her father was too busy to train her properly, and her mother was too uneducated to oversee her studies. She did have a French governess, and later on, she learned some Italian, German, and Swedish, allowing her to converse in these languages with more fluency than accuracy. From a young age, she captivated everyone with her stunning beauty and charm. Peter intended to marry his second daughter to the young French king Louis XV., but the Bourbons rejected this alliance due to their pride. Other marriage prospects failed because of the princess's personal aversion to various suitors, so upon her mother’s passing (May 1727) and the departure of her dear sister Anne to Holstein, the princess found herself, at eighteen, almost entirely independent. While Menshikov was in power, she enjoyed favorable treatment from Peter II’s government, but the Dolgorukis, who replaced Menshikov and despised Peter the Great, effectively excluded Peter's daughter 284 from court. Elizabeth inherited her father's passionate temperament and, without any control, indulged her appetites openly. While still in her teens, she took up with Alexius Shubin, a sergeant in the Semenovsky Guards, and after he was banished to Siberia, having lost his tongue, by order of Empress Anne, she found solace in the arms of a handsome young Cossack, Alexius Razumovski, who likely became her husband later on. During her cousin Anne’s reign (1730-1740), Elizabeth kept a low profile; however, under the regency of Anne Leopoldovna, circumstances forced the leisurely but capable beauty to dismantle the existing government. The idea was reportedly first put to her by the French ambassador, La Chétardie, who was scheming to reduce Austrian influence that was then strong at the Russian court. It's a misconception to think that La Chétardie played a major role in the revolution that placed Peter the Great's daughter on the Russian throne. In reality, apart from lending the tsesarevna 2000 ducats, instead of the 15,000 she had asked for, he had no involvement in the actual coup d’état, which surprised him as much as everyone else. The credit and recognition for that extraordinary event belong exclusively to Elizabeth. The fear of being locked away in a convent for the rest of her life drove her to an uncontrollable outburst of energy. At midnight on December 6, 1741, with a handful of close friends, including her doctor, Armand Lestocq, her chamberlain, Michael Ilarionvich Vorontsov, her future husband, Alexius Razumovski, and Alexander and Peter Shuvalov, two members of her household, she went to the Preobrazhensky Guards' barracks, won their support with a passionate speech, and led them to the Winter Palace, where the regent was sleeping soundly. Along the way, she had all the ministers arrested, seized the regent and her children from their beds, and gathered all notable civil and ecclesiastical figures to meet her. The entire revolution unfolded so quickly and quietly that by eight o’clock the next morning, very few people in the city were aware it had happened. Thus, at the age of thirty-three, this naturally lazy and indulgent woman, with little knowledge and no experience in governance, suddenly found herself leading a vast empire during one of its most critical periods. Fortunately for herself and for Russia, Elizabeth Petrovna, despite her flaws, had inherited some of her father’s political acumen. Her sharp judgment and diplomatic skill often reflected Peter the Great’s influence. What may have appeared at times as indecisiveness or procrastination was generally a thoughtful pause for judgment in particularly tough situations; furthermore, she was always willing to set aside feminine prejudices for her duties as a sovereign.
After abolishing the cabinet council system in favour during the rule of the two Annes, and reconstituting the senate as it had been under Peter the Great,—with the chiefs of the departments of state, all of them now Russians again, as ex-officio members under the presidency of the sovereign,—the first care of the new empress was to compose her quarrel with Sweden. On the 23rd of January 1743, direct negotiations between the two powers were opened at Åbo, and on the 7th of August 1743 Sweden ceded to Russia all the southern part of Finland east of the river Kymmene, which thus became the boundary between the two states, including the fortresses of Villmanstrand and Fredrikshamn. This triumphant issue was mainly due to the diplomatic ability of the new vice chancellor, Alexius Bestuzhev-Ryumin (q.v.), whom Elizabeth, much as she disliked him personally, had wisely placed at the head of foreign affairs immediately after her accession. He represented the anti-Franco-Prussian portion of her council, and his object was to bring about an Anglo-Austro-Russian alliance which, at that time, was undoubtedly Russia’s proper system. Hence the reiterated attempts of Frederick the Great and Louis XV. to get rid of Bestuzhev, which made the Russian court during the earlier years of Elizabeth’s reign the centre of a tangle of intrigue impossible to unravel by those who do not possess the clue to it (see Bestuzhev-Ryumin, Alexius). Ultimately, however, the minister, strong in the support of Elizabeth, prevailed, and his faultless diplomacy, backed by the despatch of an auxiliary Russian corps of 30,000 men to the Rhine, greatly accelerated the peace negotiations which led to the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle (October 18, 1748). By sheer tenacity of purpose, Bestuzhev had extricated his country from the Swedish imbroglio; reconciled his imperial mistress with the courts of Vienna and London, her natural allies; enabled Russia to assert herself effectually in Poland, Turkey and Sweden, and isolated the restless king of Prussia by environing him with hostile alliances. But all this would have been impossible but for the steady support of Elizabeth, who trusted him implicitly, despite the insinuations of the chancellor’s innumerable enemies, most of whom were her personal friends.
After abolishing the cabinet council system that had been in place during the reign of the two Annes, and restructuring the senate as it was under Peter the Great—with the heads of the state departments, all of whom were now Russians again, serving as ex-officio members under the leadership of the sovereign—the new empress's first priority was to resolve her conflict with Sweden. On January 23, 1743, direct negotiations between the two nations began in Åbo, and on August 7, 1743, Sweden ceded to Russia all the southern part of Finland east of the Kymmene River, which thus became the border between the two states, including the fortresses of Villmanstrand and Fredrikshamn. This successful outcome was largely due to the diplomatic skill of the new vice chancellor, Alexius Bestuzhev-Ryumin (q.v.), whom Elizabeth, despite her personal dislike for him, wisely appointed to lead foreign affairs right after her accession. He represented the anti-Franco-Prussian faction of her council, aiming to create an Anglo-Austro-Russian alliance, which at that time was clearly the right approach for Russia. This led to Frederick the Great and Louis XV. repeatedly trying to remove Bestuzhev, turning the Russian court during the early years of Elizabeth's reign into a complex web of intrigue that was difficult to understand without the right insight (see Bestuzhev-Ryumin, Alexius). Ultimately, however, the minister, bolstered by Elizabeth's support, succeeded, and his flawless diplomacy, along with the dispatch of an additional Russian corps of 30,000 men to the Rhine, significantly sped up the peace talks that resulted in the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle (October 18, 1748). Through sheer determination, Bestuzhev had extricated his country from the Swedish conflict; reconciled his empress with the courts of Vienna and London, her natural allies; enabled Russia to assert itself effectively in Poland, Turkey, and Sweden; and isolated the restless King of Prussia by surrounding him with opposing alliances. But all of this would have been impossible without Elizabeth's unwavering support, as she trusted him completely despite the allegations from the chancellor’s many enemies, most of whom were her personal friends.
The great event of Elizabeth’s later years was the Seven Years’ War. Elizabeth rightly regarded the treaty of Westminster (January 16, 1756, whereby Great Britain and Prussia agreed to unite their forces to oppose the entry into, or the passage through, Germany of the troops of every foreign power) as utterly subversive of the previous conventions between Great Britain and Russia. A by no means unwarrantable fear of the king of Prussia, who was “to be reduced within proper limits,” so that “he might be no longer a danger to the empire,” induced Elizabeth to accede to the treaty of Versailles, in other words the Franco-Austrian league against Prussia, and on the 17th of May 1757 the Russian army, 85,000 strong, advanced against Königsberg. Neither the serious illness of the empress, which began with a fainting-fit at Tsarskoe Selo (September 19, 1757), nor the fall of Bestuzhev (February 21, 1758), nor the cabals and intrigues of the various foreign powers at St Petersburg, interfered with the progress of the war, and the crushing defeat of Kunersdorf (August 12, 1759) at last brought Frederick to the verge of ruin. From that day forth he despaired of success, though he was saved for the moment by the jealousies of the Russian and Austrian commanders, which ruined the military plans of the allies. On the other hand, it is not too much to say that, from the end of 1759 to the end of 1761, the unshakable firmness of the Russian empress was the one constraining political force which held together the heterogeneous, incessantly jarring elements of the anti-Prussian combination. From the Russian point of view, Elizabeth’s greatness as a statesman consists in her steady appreciation of Russian interests, and her determination to promote them at all hazards. She insisted throughout that the king of Prussia must be rendered harmless to his neighbours for the future, and that the only way to bring this about was to reduce him to the rank of an elector. Frederick himself was quite alive to his danger. “I am at the end of my resources,” he wrote at the beginning of 1760, “the continuance of this war means for me utter ruin. Things may drag on perhaps till July, but then a catastrophe must come.” On the 21st of May 1760 a fresh convention was signed between Russia and Austria, a secret clause of which, never communicated to the court of Versailles, guaranteed East Prussia to Russia, as an indemnity for war expenses. The failure of the campaign of 1760, so far as Russia and France were concerned, induced the court of Versailles, on the evening of the 22nd of January 1761, to present to the court of St Petersburg a despatch to the effect that the king of France by reason of the condition of his dominions absolutely desired peace. On the following day the Austrian ambassador, Esterhazy, presented a despatch of a similar tenor from his court. The Russian empress’s reply was delivered to the two ambassadors on the 12th of February. It was inspired by the most uncompromising hostility towards the king of Prussia. Elizabeth would not consent to any pacific overtures until the original object of the league had been accomplished. Simultaneously, Elizabeth caused to be conveyed to Louis XV. a confidential letter in which she proposed the signature of a new treaty of alliance of a more comprehensive and explicit nature than the preceding treaties between the two powers, without the knowledge of Austria. Elizabeth’s object in this mysterious negotiation 285 seems to have been to reconcile France and Great Britain, in return for which signal service France was to throw all her forces into the German war. This project, which lacked neither ability nor audacity, foundered upon Louis XV.’s invincible jealousy of the growth of Russian influence in eastern Europe and his fear of offending the Porte. It was finally arranged by the allies that their envoys at Paris should fix the date for the assembling of a peace congress, and that, in the meantime, the war against Prussia should be vigorously prosecuted. The campaign of 1761 was almost as abortive as the campaign of 1760. Frederick acted on the defensive with consummate skill, and the capture of the Prussian fortress of Kolberg on Christmas day O.S. 1761, by Rumyantsev, was the sole Russian success. Frederick, however, was now at the last gasp. On the 6th of January 1762, he wrote to Finkenstein, “We ought now to think of preserving for my nephew, by way of negotiation, whatever fragments of my territory we can save from the avidity of my enemies,” which means, if words mean anything, that he was resolved to seek a soldier’s death on the first opportunity. A fortnight later he wrote to Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick, “The sky begins to clear. Courage, my dear fellow. I have received the news of a great event.” The great event which snatched him from destruction was the death of the Russian empress (January 5, 1762).
The major event in Elizabeth’s later years was the Seven Years’ War. Elizabeth rightly saw the Treaty of Westminster (January 16, 1756, where Great Britain and Prussia agreed to join forces to stop foreign troops from entering or passing through Germany) as completely undermining previous agreements between Great Britain and Russia. A justified concern about the King of Prussia, who was “to be reduced within proper limits,” so he “would no longer pose a danger to the empire,” led Elizabeth to agree to the Treaty of Versailles, which formed the Franco-Austrian alliance against Prussia. On May 17, 1757, the Russian army, 85,000 strong, advanced toward Königsberg. Neither the serious illness of the empress, which began with a fainting spell at Tsarskoe Selo (September 19, 1757), nor the fall of Bestuzhev (February 21, 1758), nor the cabals and intrigue of various foreign powers in St. Petersburg slowed the war's progress, and the heavy defeat at Kunersdorf (August 12, 1759) finally pushed Frederick to the brink of ruin. From that point on, he despaired of success, although temporary salvation came from the rivalries between the Russian and Austrian commanders that undermined the allies’ military plans. On the other hand, from late 1759 to the end of 1761, the unwavering resolve of the Russian empress was the only stabilizing political force that held together the conflicting, constantly clashing elements of the anti-Prussian coalition. From the Russian perspective, Elizabeth’s greatness as a statesman lay in her consistent understanding of Russian interests and her determination to pursue them at all costs. She insisted that the King of Prussia must be made harmless to his neighbors for the future, and that the only way to achieve this was to reduce him to the rank of an elector. Frederick himself was acutely aware of his peril. “I am at the end of my resources,” he wrote at the beginning of 1760, “continuing this war means utter ruin for me. Things may drag on until July, but then a disaster must come.” On May 21, 1760, a new agreement was signed between Russia and Austria, with a secret clause, never shared with the court of Versailles, guaranteeing East Prussia to Russia as compensation for war expenses. The failure of the 1760 campaign, as far as Russia and France were concerned, led the court of Versailles, on the evening of January 22, 1761, to send a message to the court of St. Petersburg stating that the King of France, due to the condition of his realm, absolutely desired peace. The following day, the Austrian ambassador, Esterhazy, delivered a similar message from his court. The Russian empress’s response was delivered to the two ambassadors on February 12. It reflected an unwavering hostility towards the King of Prussia. Elizabeth would not agree to any peace proposals until the original goal of the alliance had been achieved. At the same time, Elizabeth sent a confidential letter to Louis XV., suggesting a new treaty of alliance that was more comprehensive and clear than previous treaties between the two powers, without informing Austria. Elizabeth's aim in this secret negotiation 285 seemed to be to reconcile France and Great Britain, in exchange for which France would commit all its forces to the German war. This ambitious plan failed due to Louis XV.'s unwavering jealousy regarding the rise of Russian influence in Eastern Europe and his fear of offending the Ottoman Empire. The allies ultimately agreed that their envoys in Paris would set the date for a peace congress while continuing to vigorously pursue the war against Prussia. The 1761 campaign was nearly as unsuccessful as that of 1760. Frederick skillfully defended his position, and the capture of the Prussian fortress of Kolberg on Christmas Day, O.S. 1761, by Rumyantsev was the only Russian victory. However, Frederick was now at his limit. On January 6, 1762, he wrote to Finkenstein, “We should now focus on negotiating to save whatever pieces of my territory we can from the greed of my enemies,” indicating his resolve to seek a soldier’s death at the first opportunity. Two weeks later, he wrote to Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick, “The sky is beginning to clear. Stay strong, my friend. I’ve received news of a significant event.” The major event that saved him from destruction was the death of the Russian empress (January 5, 1762).
See Robert Nisbet Bain, The Daughter of Peter the Great (London, 1899); Sergyei Solovev, History of Russia (Rus.), vols. xx.-xxii. (St Petersburg, 1857-1877); Politische Correspondenz Friedrichs des Grossen, vols. i.-xxi. (Berlin, 1879, &c.); Colonel Masslowski, Der siebenjährige Krieg nach russischer Darstellung (Berlin, 1888-1893); Kazinsierz Waliszewski, La Dernière des Romanov (Paris, 1902).
See Robert Nisbet Bain, The Daughter of Peter the Great (London, 1899); Sergyei Solovev, History of Russia (Rus.), vols. xx.-xxii. (St Petersburg, 1857-1877); Politische Correspondenz Friedrichs des Grossen, vols. i.-xxi. (Berlin, 1879, &c.); Colonel Masslowski, Der siebenjährige Krieg nach russischer Darstellung (Berlin, 1888-1893); Kazinsierz Waliszewski, La Dernière des Romanov (Paris, 1902).
ELIZABETH [AMÉLIE EUGÉNIE] (1837-1898), consort of Francis Joseph, emperor of Austria and king of Hungary, was the daughter of Duke Maximilian Joseph of Bavaria and Louisa Wilhelmina, daughter of Maximilian I. of Bavaria, and was born on the 24th of December 1837 at the castle of Possenhofen on Lake Starnberg. She inherited the quick intelligence and artistic taste displayed in general by members of the Wittelsbach royal house, and her education was the reverse of conventional. She accompanied her eccentric father on his hunting expeditions, becoming an expert rider and climber, visiting the peasants in their huts and sharing in rustic pleasures. The emperor of Austria, Francis Joseph, met the Bavarian ducal family at Ischl in August 1853, and immediately fell in love with Elizabeth, then a girl of sixteen, and reported to be the most beautiful princess in Europe. The marriage took place in Vienna on the 24th of April 1854. In the early days of her married life she frequently came into collision with Viennese prejudice. Her attempts to modify court etiquette, and her extreme fondness for horsemanship and frequent visits to the imperial riding school, scandalized Austrian society, while her predilection for Hungary and for everything Hungarian offended German sentiment. There is no doubt that her influence helped the establishment of the Ausgleich with Hungary, but outside Hungarian affairs the empress took small part in politics. She first visited Hungary in 1857, and ten years later was crowned queen. Her popularity with the Hungarians remained unchanged throughout her life; and the castle of Gödöllö, presented as a coronation gift, was one of her favourite residences. Elizabeth was one of the most charitable of royal ladies, and her popularity with her Austrian subjects was more than restored by her assiduous care for the wounded in the campaign of 1866. Besides her public benefactions she constantly exercised personal and private charity. Her eldest daughter died in infancy; Gisela (b. 1856) married the Prince Leopold of Bavaria; and her youngest daughter Marie Valerie (b. 1868) married the Archduke Franz Salvator. The tragic death of her only son, the crown prince Rudolph, in 1889, was a shock from which she never really recovered. She was also deeply affected by the suicide of her cousin Louis II. of Bavaria, and again by the fate of her sister Sophia, duchess of Alençon, who perished in the fire of the Paris charity bazaar in 1897. The empress had shown signs of lung disease in 1861, when she spent some months in Madeira; but she was able to resume her outdoor sports, and for some years before 1882, when she had to give up riding, was a frequent visitor on English and Irish hunting fields. In her later years her dislike of publicity increased. Much of her time was spent in travel or at the Achilleion, the palace she had built in the Greek style in Corfu. She was walking from her hotel at Geneva to the steamer when she was stabbed by the anarchist Luigi Luccheni, on the 10th of September 1898, and died of the wound within a few hours. This aimless and dastardly crime completed the list of misfortunes of the Austrian house, and aroused intense indignation throughout Europe.
ELIZABETH [AMÉLIE EUGÉNIE] (1837-1898), wife of Francis Joseph, emperor of Austria and king of Hungary, was the daughter of Duke Maximilian Joseph of Bavaria and Louisa Wilhelmina, daughter of Maximilian I of Bavaria. She was born on December 24, 1837, at the castle of Possenhofen on Lake Starnberg. Elizabeth inherited the quick intelligence and artistic flair typical of the Wittelsbach royal family, and her education was quite unconventional. She often joined her eccentric father on hunting trips, becoming an expert rider and climber, visiting peasants in their homes, and enjoying rustic activities. Francis Joseph first met the Bavarian ducal family in Ischl in August 1853 and instantly fell in love with Elizabeth, then just sixteen and considered the most beautiful princess in Europe. They married in Vienna on April 24, 1854. Early in her marriage, she often clashed with Viennese societal norms. Her efforts to change court etiquette, along with her love for horseback riding and frequent visits to the imperial riding school, shocked Austrian society, while her affection for Hungary and everything Hungarian upset German sentiment. Her influence undoubtedly aided the establishment of the Ausgleich with Hungary, but aside from Hungarian matters, the empress was rarely involved in politics. She made her first visit to Hungary in 1857, and ten years later, she was crowned queen. Her popularity with the Hungarians remained strong throughout her life, and she particularly enjoyed her residence at the castle of Gödöllö, a coronation gift. Elizabeth was one of the most charitable royal figures, and her popularity with her Austrian subjects was greatly enhanced by her diligent care for the wounded during the campaign of 1866. In addition to her public philanthropy, she consistently engaged in personal and private acts of charity. Her eldest daughter died in infancy; Gisela (b. 1856) married Prince Leopold of Bavaria; and her youngest daughter, Marie Valerie (b. 1868), married Archduke Franz Salvator. The tragic death of her only son, Crown Prince Rudolph, in 1889 was a devastating blow from which she never fully recovered. She was also deeply impacted by the suicide of her cousin Louis II of Bavaria and the death of her sister Sophia, Duchess of Alençon, who died in the fire at the Paris charity bazaar in 1897. The empress showed early signs of lung disease in 1861 while spending several months in Madeira, but she managed to return to her outdoor activities. For several years before 1882, when she had to stop riding, she frequently visited hunting fields in England and Ireland. In her later years, she became increasingly averse to publicity. Much of her time was spent traveling or at the Achilleion, the palace she constructed in a Greek style in Corfu. She was walking from her hotel in Geneva to the steamboat when she was stabbed by anarchist Luigi Luccheni on September 10, 1898, and died from the wound within a few hours. This senseless and cowardly act added to the misfortunes of the Austrian royal family and provoked widespread outrage across Europe.
See A. de Burgh, Elizabeth, Empress of Austria, a Memoir (London, 1898); E. Friedmann and J. Paves, Kaiserin Elisabeth (Berlin, 1898); and the anonymous Martyrdom of an Empress (1899), containing a quantity of court gossip.
See A. de Burgh, Elizabeth, Empress of Austria, a Memoir (London, 1898); E. Friedmann and J. Paves, Kaiserin Elisabeth (Berlin, 1898); and the anonymous Martyrdom of an Empress (1899), which includes a lot of court gossip.
ELIZABETH (1596-1662), consort of Frederick V., elector palatine and titular king of Bohemia, was the eldest daughter of James I. of Great Britain and of Anne of Denmark, and was born at Falkland Castle in Fifeshire in August 1596. She was entrusted to the care of the earl of Linlithgow, and after the departure of the royal family to England, to the countess of Kildare, subsequently residing with Lord and Lady Harington at Combe Abbey in Warwickshire. In November 1605 the Gunpowder Plot conspirators formed a plan to seize her person and proclaim her queen after the explosion, in consequence of which she was removed by Lord Harington to Coventry. In 1608 she appeared at court, where her beauty soon attracted admiration and became the theme of the poets, her suitors including the dauphin, Maurice, prince of Orange, Gustavus Adolphus, Philip III. of Spain, and Frederick V., the elector palatine. A union with the last-named was finally arranged, in spite of the queen’s opposition, in order to strengthen the alliance with the Protestant powers in Germany, and the marriage took place on the 14th of February 1613 midst great rejoicing and festivities. The prince and princess entered Heidelberg on the 17th of June, and Elizabeth, by means of her English annuity, enjoyed five years of pleasure and of extravagant gaiety to which the small German court was totally unaccustomed. On the 26th of August 1618, Frederick, as a leading Protestant prince, was chosen king by the Bohemians, who deposed the emperor Ferdinand, then archduke of Styria. There is no evidence to show that his acceptance was instigated by the princess or that she had any influence in her husband’s political career. She accompanied Frederick to Prague in October 1619, and was crowned on the 7th of November. Here her unrestrainable high spirits and levity gave great offence to the citizens. On the approach of misfortune, however, she showed great courage and fortitude. She left Prague on the 8th of November 1620, after the fatal battle of the White Hill, for Küstrin, travelling thence to Berlin and Wolfenbüttel, finally with Frederick taking refuge at the Hague with Prince Maurice of Orange. The help sought from James came only in the shape of useless embassies and negotiations; the two Palatinates were soon occupied by the Spaniards and the duke of Bavaria; and the romantic attachment and services of Duke Christian of Brunswick, of the 1st earl of Craven, and of other chivalrous young champions who were inspired by the beauty and grace of the “Queen of Hearts,” as Elizabeth was now called, availed nothing. Her residence was at Rhenen near Arnheim, where she received many English visitors and endeavoured to maintain her spirits and fortitude, with straitened means and in spite of frequent disappointments. The victories of Gustavus Adolphus secured no permanent advantage, and his death at Lützen was followed by that of the elector at Mainz on the 29th of November 1632. Subsequent attempts of the princess to reinstate her son in his dominions were unsuccessful, and it was not till the peace of Westphalia in 1648 that he regained a portion of them, the Rhenish Palatinate. Meanwhile, Elizabeth’s position in Holland grew more and more unsatisfactory. The payment of her English annuity of £12,000 ceased after the outbreak of the troubles with the parliament; the death of Charles I. in 1649 put an end to all hopes from that quarter; and the pension 286 allowed her by the house of Orange ceased in 1650. Her children, in consequence of disputes, abandoned her, and her eldest son Charles Louis refused her a home in his restored electorate. Nor did Charles II. at his restoration show any desire to receive her in England. Parliament voted her £20,000 in 1660 for the payment of her debts, but Elizabeth did not receive the money, and on the 19th of May 1661 she left the Hague for England, in spite of the king’s attempts to hinder her journey, receiving no official welcome on her arrival in London and being lodged at Lord Craven’s house in Drury Lane. Charles, however, subsequently granted her a pension and treated her with kindness. On the 8th of February 1662 she removed to Leicester House in Leicester Fields, and died shortly afterwards on the 13th of the same month, being buried in Westminster Abbey. Her beauty, grace and vivacity exercised a great charm over her contemporaries, the enthusiasm for her, however, being probably not merely personal but one inspired also by her misfortunes and by the fact that these misfortunes were incurred in defence of the Protestant cause; later, as the ancestress of the Protestant Hanoverian dynasty, she obtained a conspicuous place in English history. She had thirteen children—Frederick Henry, drowned at sea in 1629; Charles Louis, elector palatine, whose daughter married Philip, duke of Orleans, and became the ancestress of the elder and Roman Catholic branch of the royal family of England; Elizabeth, abbess and friend of Descartes; Prince Rupert and Prince Maurice, who died unmarried; Louisa, abbess; Edward, who married Anne de Gonzaga, “princesse palatine,” and had children; Henrietta Maria, who married Count Sigismund Ragotzki but died childless; Philip and Charlotte, who died childless; Sophia, who married Ernest Augustus, elector of Hanover, and was mother of George I. of England; and two others who died young.
ELIZABETH (1596-1662), the wife of Frederick V., elector palatine and nominal king of Bohemia, was the eldest daughter of James I of Great Britain and Anne of Denmark. She was born at Falkland Castle in Fifeshire in August 1596. Elizabeth was put under the care of the earl of Linlithgow, and after the royal family moved to England, she went to live with the countess of Kildare, later staying with Lord and Lady Harington at Combe Abbey in Warwickshire. In November 1605, the conspirators of the Gunpowder Plot planned to kidnap her and declare her queen after the explosion, which led to her being moved by Lord Harington to Coventry. In 1608, she made her appearance at court, where her beauty quickly garnered admiration and became a popular subject for poets. Her suitors included the dauphin, Maurice, prince of Orange, Gustavus Adolphus, Philip III of Spain, and Frederick V, the elector palatine. Despite the queen's disapproval, a marriage with Frederick was eventually arranged to strengthen the alliance with Protestant powers in Germany, and they wed on February 14, 1613, amidst great celebration and festivities. The newlyweds entered Heidelberg on June 17, where Elizabeth, thanks to her English annuity, enjoyed five years filled with pleasure and extravagant festivities that were unfamiliar to the small German court. On August 26, 1618, Frederick was chosen king by the Bohemians as a leading Protestant prince, leading to the deposition of the emperor Ferdinand, then archduke of Styria. There’s no evidence that Elizabeth prompted this decision or influenced her husband’s political life. She joined Frederick in Prague in October 1619 and was crowned on November 7. However, her lively demeanor and carefree attitude offended the citizens. When tragedy struck, she displayed remarkable bravery and resilience. After the devastating battle of the White Hill, she left Prague on November 8, 1620, and traveled to Küstrin, then onto Berlin and Wolfenbüttel, eventually seeking refuge in The Hague with Prince Maurice of Orange alongside Frederick. The assistance her father, James, offered amounted to ineffectual embassies and negotiations; soon, both Palatinates fell under the control of the Spaniards and the duke of Bavaria. The romantic efforts and military aid from Duke Christian of Brunswick, the 1st earl of Craven, and other gallant young champions inspired by the beauty and charm of the "Queen of Hearts," as Elizabeth was now known, yielded no results. She then lived in Rhenen near Arnheim, receiving many visitors from England and trying to keep her spirits up despite having limited means and frequent disappointments. The victories of Gustavus Adolphus brought no lasting benefits, and following his death at Lützen, Frederick also died in Mainz on November 29, 1632. Elizabeth's later attempts to restore her son to his lands were unsuccessful, and it wasn’t until the peace of Westphalia in 1648 that he regained a portion of them, specifically the Rhenish Palatinate. Meanwhile, her situation in Holland became increasingly difficult. Payments for her English annuity of £12,000 stopped after the troubles with Parliament began; Charles I’s death in 1649 dashed any hopes from that direction; and the pension provided by the house of Orange ceased in 1650. Owing to various disputes, her children distanced themselves from her, and her eldest son, Charles Louis, denied her a home in his restored electorate. When Charles II was restored to the throne, he showed no interest in bringing her back to England. In 1660, Parliament voted £20,000 to help with her debts, but Elizabeth never received the funds. On May 19, 1661, she left The Hague for England, despite the king's attempts to prevent her departure, receiving no official welcome upon her arrival in London and staying at Lord Craven’s house in Drury Lane. However, Charles later granted her a pension and treated her kindly. On February 8, 1662, she moved to Leicester House in Leicester Fields and died shortly afterward on February 13, being buried in Westminster Abbey. Her beauty, grace, and vivacity captivated her contemporaries, with the enthusiasm for her likely stemming not only from her personal charm but also from her hardships endured in defense of the Protestant cause. Later, as the ancestor of the Protestant Hanoverian dynasty, she secured a significant place in English history. She had thirteen children: Frederick Henry, drowned at sea in 1629; Charles Louis, elector palatine, whose daughter married Philip, duke of Orleans, becoming the ancestor of the Roman Catholic branch of the English royal family; Elizabeth, abbess and friend of Descartes; Prince Rupert and Prince Maurice, who died unmarried; Louisa, abbess; Edward, who married Anne de Gonzaga, "princesse palatine," and had children; Henrietta Maria, who married Count Sigismund Ragotzki but died childless; Philip and Charlotte, both of whom died childless; Sophia, who married Ernest Augustus, elector of Hanover, and was the mother of George I of England; and two others who died young.
Bibliography.—See the article in Dict. of Nat. Biography and authorities there collected; Five Stuart Princesses, ed. by R.S. Rait (1902); Briefe der Elizabeth Stuart ... an ... den Kurfürsten Carl Ludwig von der Pfalz, by A. Wendland (Bibliothek des literarischen Vereins, 228, Stuttgart, 1902); “Elizabeth Stuart,” by J.O. Opel, in Sybel’s Historische Zeitschrift, xxiii. 289; Thomason Tracts (Brit. Mus.), E., 138 (14), 122 (12), 118 (40), 119 (18). Important material regarding the princess exists in the MSS. of the earl of Craven, at Combe Abbey.
References.—See the article in Dictionary of National Biography and the sources referenced there; Five Stuart Princesses, edited by R.S. Rait (1902); Letters of Elizabeth Stuart ... to ... Elector Carl Ludwig of the Palatinate, by A. Wendland (Library of the Literary Society, 228, Stuttgart, 1902); “Elizabeth Stuart,” by J.O. Opel, in Sybel’s Historical Journal, xxiii. 289; Thomason Tracts (British Museum), E., 138 (14), 122 (12), 118 (40), 119 (18). Important material about the princess is found in the manuscripts of the Earl of Craven at Combe Abbey.
ELIZABETH [PAULINE ELIZABETH OTTILIE LOUISE] (1843- ), consort of King Charles I. (q.v.) of Rumania, widely known by her literary name of “Carmen Sylva,” was born on the 29th of December 1843. She was the daughter of Prince Hermann of Neuwied. She first met the future king of Rumania at Berlin in 1861, and was married to him on the 15th of November 1869. Her only child, a daughter, died in 1874. In the Russo-Turkish War of 1877-1878 she devoted herself to the care of the wounded, and founded the Order of Elizabeth (a gold cross on a blue ribbon) to reward distinguished service in such work. She fostered the higher education of women in Rumania, and established societies for various charitable objects. Early distinguished by her excellence as a pianist, organist and singer, she also showed considerable ability in painting and illuminating; but a lively poetic imagination led her to the path of literature, and more especially to poetry, folk-lore and ballads. In addition to numerous original works she put into literary form many of the legends current among the Rumanian peasantry.
ELIZABETH [PAULINE ELIZABETH OTTILIE LOUISE] (1843- ), consort of King Charles I. (q.v.) of Romania, widely known by her literary name “Carmen Sylva,” was born on December 29, 1843. She was the daughter of Prince Hermann of Neuwied. She first met the future king of Romania in Berlin in 1861, and they got married on November 15, 1869. Her only child, a daughter, passed away in 1874. During the Russo-Turkish War of 1877-1878, she dedicated herself to caring for the wounded and founded the Order of Elizabeth (a gold cross on a blue ribbon) to honor exceptional service in this work. She promoted higher education for women in Romania and established various charitable societies. Noted for her talents as a pianist, organist, and singer from an early age, she also demonstrated significant skill in painting and illumination; however, her vibrant poetic imagination led her to pursue literature, particularly poetry, folklore, and ballads. In addition to her many original works, she also documented many of the legends popular among the Romanian peasantry.
“Carmen Sylva” wrote with facility in German, Rumanian, French and English. A few of her voluminous writings, which include poems, plays, novels, short stories, essays, collections of aphorisms, &c., may be singled out for special mention. Her earliest publications were Sappho and Hammerstein, two poems which appeared at Leipzig in 1880. In 1888 she received the Prix Botta, a prize awarded triennially by the French Academy, for her volume of prose aphorisms Les Pensées d’une reine (Paris, 1882), a German version of which is entitled Vom Amboss (Bonn, 1890). Cuvinte Sufletesci, religious meditations in Rumanian (Bucharest, 1888), was also translated into German (Bonn, 1890), under the name of Seelen-Gespräche. Several of the works of “Carmen Sylva” were written in collaboration with Mite Kremnitz, one of her maids of honour, who was born at Greifswald in 1857, and married Dr Kremnitz of Bucharest; these were published between 1881 and 1888, in some cases under the pseudonyms Dito et Idem, and includes the novel Aus zwei Welten (Leipzig, 1884), Anna Boleyn (Bonn, 1886), a tragedy, In der Irre (Bonn, 1888), a collection of short stories, &c. Edleen Vaughan, or Paths of Peril, a novel (London, 1894), and Sweet Hours, poems (London, 1904), were written in English. Among the translations made by “Carmen Sylva” are German versions of Pierre Loti’s romance Pêcheur d’Islande, and of Paul de St Victor’s dramatic criticisms Les Deux Masques (Paris, 1881-1884); and in particular The Bard of the Dimbovitza, a fine English version by “Carmen Sylva” and Alma Strettell of Helène Vacarescu’s collection of Rumanian folk-songs, &c., entitled Lieder aus dem Dimbovitzathal (Bonn, 1889). The Bard of the Dimbovitza was first published in 1891, and was soon reissued and expanded. Translations from the original works of “Carmen Sylva” have appeared in all the principal languages of Europe and in Armenian.
“Carmen Sylva” wrote easily in German, Romanian, French, and English. A few of her extensive writings, which include poems, plays, novels, short stories, essays, collections of aphorisms, etc., deserve special mention. Her earliest publications were Sappho and Hammerstein, two poems that were published in Leipzig in 1880. In 1888, she received the Prix Botta, a prize awarded every three years by the French Academy, for her volume of prose aphorisms Les Pensées d’une reine (Paris, 1882), which has a German version titled Vom Amboss (Bonn, 1890). Cuvinte Sufletesci, religious meditations in Romanian (Bucharest, 1888), was also translated into German (Bonn, 1890) under the name Seelen-Gespräche. Several works by “Carmen Sylva” were co-written with Mite Kremnitz, one of her maids of honor, who was born in Greifswald in 1857 and married Dr. Kremnitz from Bucharest; these were published between 1881 and 1888, sometimes under the pseudonyms Dito et Idem and include the novel Aus zwei Welten (Leipzig, 1884), Anna Boleyn (Bonn, 1886), a tragedy, In der Irre (Bonn, 1888), a collection of short stories, etc. Edleen Vaughan, or Paths of Peril, a novel (London, 1894), and Sweet Hours, poems (London, 1904), were written in English. Among the translations done by “Carmen Sylva” are German versions of Pierre Loti’s novel Pêcheur d’Islande, and of Paul de St Victor’s dramatic critiques Les Deux Masques (Paris, 1881-1884); particularly noteworthy is The Bard of the Dimbovitza, an excellent English translation by “Carmen Sylva” and Alma Strettell of Helène Vacarescu’s collection of Romanian folk songs, etc., titled Lieder aus dem Dimbovitzathal (Bonn, 1889). The Bard of the Dimbovitza was first published in 1891 and was quickly reissued and expanded. Translations of the original works of “Carmen Sylva” have been published in all the major languages of Europe and in Armenian.
See Rumania: History; also M. Kremnitz, Carmen Sylva—eine Biographie (Leipzig, 1903); and, for a full bibliography, G. Bengescu, Carmen Sylva—bibliographie et extraits de ses œuvres (Paris, 1904).
See Rumania: History; also M. Kremnitz, Carmen Sylva—A Biography (Leipzig, 1903); and for a complete bibliography, G. Bengescu, Carmen Sylva—Bibliography and Excerpts from Her Works (Paris, 1904).
ELIZABETH (1635-1650), English princess, second daughter of Charles I., was born on the 28th of December 1635 at St James’s Palace. On the outbreak of the Civil War and the departure of the king from London, while the two elder princes accompanied their father, the princess and the infant duke of Gloucester were left under the care of the parliament. In October 1642 Elizabeth sent a letter to the House of Lords begging that her old attendants might not be removed. In July 1644 the royal children were sent to Sir John Danvers at Chelsea, and in 1645 to the earl and countess of Northumberland. After the final defeat of the king they were joined in 1646 by James, and during 1647 paid several visits to the king at Caversham, near Reading, and Hampton Court, but were again separated by Charles’s imprisonment at Carisbrooke Castle. On the 21st of April 1648 James was persuaded to escape by Elizabeth, who declared that were she a boy she would not long remain in confinement. The last sad meeting between Charles and his two children, at which the princess was overcome with grief, and of which she wrote a short and touching account, took place on the 29th of January 1649, the day before his execution. In June she was entrusted to the care of the earl and countess of Leicester at Penshurst, but in 1650, upon the landing of Charles II. in Scotland, the parliament ordered the royal children to be taken for security to Carisbrooke Castle. The princess fell ill from a wetting almost immediately upon her arrival, and died of fever on the 8th of September. She was buried in St Thomas’s church at Newport, Isle of Wight, where the initials “E.S.” alone marked her grave till 1856, when a monument was erected to her memory by Queen Victoria. The princess’s sorrowful career and early death have attracted general interest and sympathy. She was said to have acquired considerable proficiency in Greek, Hebrew and Latin, as well as in Italian and French, and several books were dedicated to her, including the translation of the Electra of Sophocles by Christopher Wase in 1649. Her mild nature and gentleness towards her father’s enemies gained her the name of “Temperance.”
ELIZABETH (1635-1650), English princess, second daughter of Charles I, was born on December 28, 1635, at St James’s Palace. When the Civil War broke out and the king left London, the two older princes went with their father, while the princess and the baby Duke of Gloucester were placed in the care of Parliament. In October 1642, Elizabeth wrote to the House of Lords asking that her old attendants not be taken away. In July 1644, the royal children were sent to Sir John Danvers in Chelsea, and in 1645 to the Earl and Countess of Northumberland. After the king was finally defeated, they were joined in 1646 by James, and during 1647, they visited their father at Caversham, near Reading, and Hampton Court, but were separated again when Charles was imprisoned in Carisbrooke Castle. On April 21, 1648, Elizabeth convinced James to escape, declaring that if she were a boy, she wouldn’t stay in confinement for long. The last heartbreaking meeting between Charles and his two children, which left the princess in tears and prompted her to write a brief and poignant account, took place on January 29, 1649, the day before his execution. In June, she was placed under the care of the Earl and Countess of Leicester in Penshurst, but in 1650, after Charles II landed in Scotland, Parliament ordered the royal children to be taken to Carisbrooke Castle for their safety. The princess fell ill from being drenched shortly after her arrival and died of fever on September 8. She was buried in St Thomas’s Church in Newport, Isle of Wight, where the initials “E.S.” marked her grave until 1856, when a monument was erected in her memory by Queen Victoria. The princess’s tragic life and early death have drawn public interest and sympathy. She was said to have become quite skilled in Greek, Hebrew, and Latin, as well as in Italian and French, and several books were dedicated to her, including Christopher Wase's translation of the Electra of Sophocles in 1649. Her gentle nature and kindness towards her father’s enemies earned her the nickname “Temperance.”
See Lives of the Princesses of England, by M.A.E. Green (1855), vol. vi.; Notes and Queries, 7th ser., ix. 444, x. 15.
See Lives of the Princesses of England, by M.A.E. Green (1855), vol. vi.; Notes and Queries, 7th ser., ix. 444, x. 15.
ELIZABETH [Élisabeth Philippine Marie Hélène of France] (1764-1794), commonly called Madame Elizabeth, daughter of Louis the Dauphin and Marie Josephine of Saxony, and sister of Louis XVI., was born at Versailles on the 3rd of May 1764. Left an orphan at the age of three, she was brought up by Madame de Mackau, and had a residence at Montreuil, where she gave many proofs of her benevolent character. She refused all offers of marriage so that she might remain by the side of her brother, whom she loved passionately. At the outset of the Revolution she foresaw the gravity of events, and refused to leave the king, whom she accompanied in his flight on the 20th of June 1792, and with whom she was arrested at Varennes. 287 She was present at the Legislative Assembly when Louis was suspended, and was imprisoned in the Temple with the royal family. By the execution of the king and the removal of Marie Antoinette to the Conciergerie, Madame Elizabeth was deprived of her companions in the Temple prison, and on the 9th of May 1794 she was herself transferred to the Conciergerie, and haled before the revolutionary tribunal. Accused of assisting the king’s flight, of supplying émigrés with funds, and of encouraging the resistance of the royal troops on the 10th of August 1792, she was condemned to death, and executed on the 10th of May 1794. Like her brother, she had all the domestic virtues, and, as was to be expected of a sister of Louis XVI., she was in favour of absolutist principles. Hers was one of the most touching tragedies of the Revolution; she perished because she was the sister of the king.
ELIZABETH [Élisabeth Philippine Marie Hélène of France] (1764-1794), commonly known as Ms. Elizabeth, was the daughter of Louis the Dauphin and Marie Josephine of Saxony, and the sister of Louis XVI. She was born at Versailles on May 3, 1764. Orphaned at three, she was raised by Madame de Mackau and lived in Montreuil, where she demonstrated her kind nature. She turned down all marriage proposals so she could stay close to her brother, whom she loved deeply. At the start of the Revolution, she recognized the seriousness of the situation and refused to leave the king, accompanying him during his escape on June 20, 1792, and getting arrested with him in Varennes. 287 She was present at the Legislative Assembly when Louis was suspended and was imprisoned in the Temple with the royal family. After the king's execution and Marie Antoinette's transfer to the Conciergerie, Madame Elizabeth lost her companions in the Temple prison. On May 9, 1794, she was moved to the Conciergerie and brought before the revolutionary tribunal. Accused of helping the king escape, providing funds to émigrés, and supporting the royal troops on August 10, 1792, she was sentenced to death and executed on May 10, 1794. Like her brother, she embodied all domestic virtues, and as expected from Louis XVI's sister, she supported absolutist principles. Her story is one of the most poignant tragedies of the Revolution; she was killed simply for being the king's sister.
The Mémoires de Madame Élisabeth (Paris, 1858), by F. de Barghon and Fort-Rion, are of doubtful authenticity; and the collection of letters and documents published in 1865 by F. Feuillet de Conches must be used with caution (see the bibliographical note to the article Marie Antoinette). See le Comte A.F.C. Ferrand, Éloge historique de Madame Élisabeth (1814, containing 94 letters; 2nd ed., 1861, containing additional letters, but correspondence mutilated); Du Fresne de Beaucourt, Étude sur Madame Élisabeth (Paris, 1864); A. de Beauchesne, Vie de Madame Élisabeth (1869); La comtesse d’Armaillé, Madame Élisabeth (Paris, 1886); Madame d’Arvor, Madame Élisabeth (Paris, 1898); and Hon. Mrs Maxwell-Scott, Madame Elizabeth of France (1908).
The Mémoires de Madame Élisabeth (Paris, 1858), by F. de Barghon and Fort-Rion, are questionable in authenticity; and the collection of letters and documents published in 1865 by F. Feuillet de Conches should be approached with caution (see the bibliographical note to the article Marie Antoinette). See le Comte A.F.C. Ferrand, Éloge historique de Madame Élisabeth (1814, containing 94 letters; 2nd ed., 1861, with additional letters, but correspondence is edited); Du Fresne de Beaucourt, Étude sur Madame Élisabeth (Paris, 1864); A. de Beauchesne, Vie de Madame Élisabeth (1869); La comtesse d’Armaillé, Madame Élisabeth (Paris, 1886); Madame d’Arvor, Madame Élisabeth (Paris, 1898); and Hon. Mrs Maxwell-Scott, Madame Elizabeth of France (1908).
ELIZABETH, SAINT (1207-1231), daughter of Andrew II., king of Hungary (d. 1235), by his first wife, Gertrude of Andechs-Meran (d. 1213), was born in Pressburg in 1207. At four years of age she was betrothed to Louis IV., landgrave of Thuringia, and conducted to the Wartburg, near Eisenach, to be educated under the direction of his parents. In spite of her decidedly worldly surroundings at the Thuringian court, she evinced from the first an aversion from even the most innocent pleasures, and stimulated by the example of her mother’s sister, St Hedwig, wife of Henry VI., duke of Silesia-Breslau, devoted her whole time to religion and to works of charity. She was married at the age of fourteen, and acquired such influence over her husband that he adopted her point of view and zealously assisted her in all her charitable endeavours. According to the legend, much celebrated in German art, Louis at first desired to curtail her excessive charities, and forbade her unbounded gifts to the poor. One day, returning from hunting, he met his wife descending from the Wartburg with a heavy bundle filled with bread. He sternly bade her open it; she did so, and he saw nothing but a mass of red roses. The miracle completed his conversion. On the death of Louis “the Saint” in 1227, Elizabeth was deprived of the regency by his brother, Henry Raspe IV. (d. 1247), on the pretext that she was wasting the estates by her alms; and with her three infant children she was driven from her home without being allowed to carry with her even the barest necessaries of life. She lived for some time in great hardship, but ultimately her maternal uncle, Egbert, bishop of Bamberg, offered her an asylum in a house adjoining his palace. Through the intercession of some of the principal barons, the regency was again offered her, and her son Hermann was declared heir to the landgraviate; but renouncing all power, and making use of her wealth only for charitable purposes, she preferred to live in seclusion at Marburg under the direction of her confessor, the bigoted persecutor Conrad of Marburg. There she spent the remainder of her days in penances of unusual severity, and in ministrations to the sick, especially those afflicted with the most loathsome diseases. She died at Marburg on the 19th of November 1231, and four years afterwards was canonized by Gregory IX. on account of the frequent miracles reported to have been performed at her tomb.
ELIZABETH, SAINT (1207-1231), daughter of Andrew II, king of Hungary (d. 1235), from his first wife, Gertrude of Andechs-Meran (d. 1213), was born in Pressburg in 1207. At the age of four, she was engaged to Louis IV, landgrave of Thuringia, and taken to the Wartburg, near Eisenach, to be raised under the guidance of his parents. Despite the worldly environment at the Thuringian court, she showed from the start a dislike for even the simplest pleasures and, inspired by her aunt, St. Hedwig, the wife of Henry VI, duke of Silesia-Breslau, dedicated her life to religion and charitable works. She married at fourteen and gained such influence over her husband that he adopted her views and eagerly supported her charitable efforts. According to a well-known legend in German art, Louis initially wanted to limit her charitable activities and prohibited her generous gifts to the poor. One day, he returned from hunting and saw her coming from the Wartburg with a heavy bundle of bread. He firmly asked her to open it; when she did, he found only a pile of red roses. This miracle changed his perspective. After Louis "the Saint" died in 1227, Elizabeth was removed from regency by his brother, Henry Raspe IV (d. 1247), claiming she was depleting the estates with her donations; she and her three young children were expelled from their home without even basic necessities. She faced significant hardship for a while, but eventually her maternal uncle, Egbert, bishop of Bamberg, provided her with shelter in a house next to his palace. Through the influence of some prominent barons, she was offered regency again, and her son Hermann was named heir to the landgraviate; however, she declined all power and only used her wealth for charitable causes, choosing to live in seclusion at Marburg under the guidance of her confessor, the strict Conrad of Marburg. There, she spent the rest of her life in rigorous penance and caring for the sick, especially those with the most dreadful ailments. She died in Marburg on November 19, 1231, and was canonized by Gregory IX four years later due to the many miracles reported at her tomb.
The exhibition in the Royal Academy of P.H. Calderon’s picture, “St Elizabeth of Hungary’s Great Act of Renunciation,” now in the Tate Gallery in London, roused considerable protest among Catholics. The saint is represented as kneeling nude before the altar, in the presence of her confessor and a couple of nuns. The passage this is intended to illustrate is in Lib. iv. § 1 of Dietrich of Apolda’s Vita, which relates how, on a certain Good Friday, she went into a chapel and, in the presence of some Franciscan brothers, laid her hands on the bare altar, renounced her own will, her parents, children, relations, and all pomps of this kind (hujus modi) in imitation of Christ; and stripped herself utterly naked (omnino se exuit et nudavit) in order to follow Him naked, in the steps of poverty. A literal interpretation of this passage is not impossible; for ecstatic mystics of all ages have indulged in a like κενώσις, and Conrad, who revelled in inflicting religious tortures, was quite capable of imposing this crowning humiliation upon his gentle victim. It is far more probable, however, that the passage is not to be taken literally.
The exhibition at the Royal Academy of P.H. Calderon’s painting, “St. Elizabeth of Hungary’s Great Act of Renunciation,” currently in the Tate Gallery in London, sparked significant protests from Catholics. The saint is depicted kneeling nude before the altar, accompanied by her confessor and a couple of nuns. The scene is meant to illustrate a passage from Lib. iv. § 1 of Dietrich of Apolda’s Vita, which recounts how, on a certain Good Friday, she entered a chapel and, in front of some Franciscan brothers, laid her hands on the bare altar, renounced her own will, her parents, children, relatives, and all worldly honors (hujus modi) to imitate Christ; and completely stripped herself (omnino se exuit et nudavit) to follow Him in nakedness and poverty. A literal interpretation of this passage isn’t out of the question; ecstatic mystics throughout history have engaged in a similar κενώσις, and Conrad, who took pleasure in administering religious tortures, could certainly inflict this ultimate humiliation on his gentle victim. However, it’s much more likely that the passage shouldn’t be taken literally.
Lives of St Elizabeth were written by Theodoricus (Dietrich) of Apolda (b. 1228), Caesarius of Heisterbach (d. c. 1240), Conrad of Marburg and others (see Potthast, Bibl. Hist. Med. Aev. p. 1284). A metrical life in German exists by Johann Rothe (d. c. 1440), chaplain to the Landgravine Anne of Thuringia (Potthast, p. 985). L’Histoire de Sainte Élisabeth de Hongrie, by Montalembert, was published at Paris in 1836. Her life has also supplied the materials for a dramatic poem by Charles Kingsley, entitled the “Saint’s Tragedy.” The edition of this in vol. xvi. of the Life and Works of Charles Kingsley (London, 1902) has valuable notes, with many extracts from the original sources.
Lives of St. Elizabeth were written by Theodoricus (Dietrich) of Apolda (b. 1228), Caesarius of Heisterbach (d. c. 1240), Conrad of Marburg, and others (see Potthast, Bibl. Hist. Med. Aev. p. 1284). A metrical biography in German exists by Johann Rothe (d. c. 1440), chaplain to the Landgravine Anne of Thuringia (Potthast, p. 985). L’Histoire de Sainte Élisabeth de Hongrie, by Montalembert, was published in Paris in 1836. Her life has also inspired a dramatic poem by Charles Kingsley, titled “Saint’s Tragedy.” The edition of this in vol. xvi. of the Life and Works of Charles Kingsley (London, 1902) includes valuable notes with many excerpts from the original sources.
ELIZABETH, a city and the county-seat of Union county, New Jersey, U.S.A., on Elizabeth river, Newark Bay, and Arthur Kill, 10 m. S.W. of Jersey City. Pop. (1890) 37,764; (1900) 52,130, of whom 14,770 were foreign-born and 1139 were negroes; (1910 census) 73,409. It is served by the Pennsylvania, the Lehigh Valley and the Central of New Jersey railways. The site is level and the streets are broad and shaded. There are many residences of New York business men, and several historic buildings, including Liberty Hall, the mansion of William Livingston, first governor of the state; Boxwood Hall (now used as a home for aged women), the former home of Elias Boudinot; the old brick mansion of Jonathan Belcher (1681-1757), governor of the province from 1747 to 1757; the First Presbyterian Church; and the house occupied at different times by General Winfield Scott. The city has several parks, the Union county court house (1905), a public library and several charitable institutions. Elizabethport, that part of the city on Staten Island Sound, about 2 m. S.E. of the centre of Elizabeth, has a port open to vessels of 300 tons; it is an outlet of the Pennsylvania coal fields and is thus one of the most important coal shipping depots in the United States. Here, too, are a plant (covering more than 800 acres) of the Standard Oil Company and a large establishment for the manufacture of the “Singer” sewing machine—according to the U.S. census the largest manufactory of sewing machines in the world—employing more than 6000 workmen in 1905; among the other manufactures of Elizabeth are foundry and machine shop products (value in 1905, $3,887,139), wire, oil (value in 1905, $2,387,656), refined and smelted copper, the output of railway repair shops, edge tools and lager beer. The value of the manufactured products was $10,489,364 in 1890; $22,861,375 (factory product) in 1900; and $29,300,801 (factory product) in 1905.
ELIZABETH is a city and the county seat of Union County, New Jersey, U.S.A., situated on the Elizabeth River, Newark Bay, and Arthur Kill, about 10 miles southwest of Jersey City. The population was 37,764 in 1890, 52,130 in 1900 (including 14,770 foreign-born residents and 1,139 African Americans), and 73,409 according to the 1910 census. The city is served by the Pennsylvania, Lehigh Valley, and Central of New Jersey railways. The area is flat with wide, tree-lined streets. There are many homes belonging to New York business people and several historic buildings, including Liberty Hall, the mansion of William Livingston, the first governor of the state; Boxwood Hall (now a home for elderly women), the former residence of Elias Boudinot; the old brick mansion of Jonathan Belcher (1681-1757), who was governor of the province from 1747 to 1757; the First Presbyterian Church; and the house where General Winfield Scott stayed at various times. The city features several parks, the Union County Courthouse (built in 1905), a public library, and multiple charitable organizations. Elizabethport, the part of the city that borders Staten Island Sound, is located about 2 miles southeast of downtown Elizabeth and has a port accessible to vessels of 300 tons; it serves as an outlet for the Pennsylvania coal fields, making it one of the most crucial coal shipping hubs in the United States. The area also houses a facility (spanning over 800 acres) of the Standard Oil Company and a major manufacturing site for the "Singer" sewing machine—according to the U.S. census, it is the largest sewing machine factory in the world, employing over 6,000 workers in 1905. Other manufacturing activities in Elizabeth include products from foundries and machine shops (valued at $3,887,139 in 1905), wire, oil (valued at $2,387,656 in 1905), refined and smelted copper, outputs from railway repair shops, edge tools, and lager beer. The total value of manufactured goods was $10,489,364 in 1890, $22,861,375 (factory output) in 1900, and $29,300,801 (factory output) in 1905.
Elizabeth was settled in 1665 by a company from Long Island for whom the land had been purchased from the Indians and a grant had been obtained from Richard Nicolls as agent for the duke of York. But about the same time the duke conveyed the entire province to John, Lord Berkeley, and Sir George Carteret, and these two conflicting grants gave rise to a long-continued controversy (see New Jersey). The town was named in honour of Elizabeth, wife of Sir George Carteret, and was first known as Elizabethtown. From 1665 to 1686 it was the seat of government of the province, and the legislature sat here occasionally until 1790. In the home of the Rev. Jonathan Dickinson (1688-1747), its first president, the first sessions of the College of New Jersey (now Princeton University) were held in 1747, but immediately afterwards the college removed to Newark. In December 1776 and twice in June 1780 the British entered Elizabeth and made it a base of operations, but on each occasion they were soon driven out. Elizabeth became a “free town and borough” in 1739; the borough charter was confirmed 288 by the legislature in 1789 and repealed in 1790, and Elizabeth was chartered as a city in 1855.
Elizabeth was established in 1665 by a company from Long Island, which had purchased the land from the Indigenous people and obtained a grant from Richard Nicolls, acting on behalf of the Duke of York. However, around the same time, the Duke transferred the entire province to John, Lord Berkeley, and Sir George Carteret, leading to a long-standing dispute between the two conflicting grants (see New Jersey). The town was named in honor of Elizabeth, the wife of Sir George Carteret, and was initially known as Elizabethtown. From 1665 to 1686, it served as the provincial seat of government, with the legislature meeting there occasionally until 1790. In the home of Rev. Jonathan Dickinson (1688-1747), its first president, the first sessions of the College of New Jersey (now Princeton University) were held in 1747, but the college quickly moved to Newark afterward. In December 1776 and twice in June 1780, the British occupied Elizabeth and used it as a base of operations, but each time they were soon expelled. Elizabeth was declared a "free town and borough" in 1739; the borough charter was confirmed by the legislature in 1789 and repealed in 1790, with Elizabeth being chartered as a city in 1855.
See E.F. Hatfield, History of Elizabeth, New Jersey (New York, 1868).
See E.F. Hatfield, History of Elizabeth, New Jersey (New York, 1868).
ELIZABETHAN STYLE, in architecture, the term given to the early Renaissance style in England, which flourished chiefly during the reign of Queen Elizabeth; it followed the Tudor style, and was succeeded in the beginning of the 16th century by the purer Italian style introduced by Inigo Jones. It responds to the Cinque-Cento period in Italy, the François I. style in France, and the Plateresque or Silversmith’s style in Spain. During the reigns of Henry VIII. and Edward VI. many Italian artists came over, who carried out various decorative features at Hampton Court; Layer Marney, Suffolk (1522-1525); Sutton Place, Surrey (1529); Nonsuch Palace and elsewhere. Later in the century Flemish craftsmen succeeded the Italians, and the Royal Exchange in London (1566-1570) is one of the first important buildings designed by Henri de Paschen, an architect from Antwerp. Longford Castle, Wollaton, Hatfield, Blickling, Audley End, and Charterhouse (London) all show the style introduced by Flemish workmen.
ELIZABETHAN STYLE, in architecture, refers to the early Renaissance style in England that was popular mainly during Queen Elizabeth's reign. It came after the Tudor style and was followed in the early 16th century by the more refined Italian style brought in by Inigo Jones. This style relates to the Cinque-Cento period in Italy, the François I style in France, and the Plateresque or Silversmith style in Spain. During the reigns of Henry VIII and Edward VI, many Italian artists moved to England, creating various decorative elements at Hampton Court; Layer Marney in Suffolk (1522-1525); Sutton Place in Surrey (1529); Nonsuch Palace, and other locations. Later in the century, Flemish craftsmen took over from the Italians, and the Royal Exchange in London (1566-1570) is one of the first significant buildings designed by Henri de Paschen, an architect from Antwerp. Longford Castle, Wollaton, Hatfield, Blickling, Audley End, and Charterhouse (London) all reflect the style brought in by Flemish workers.
ELIZABETH CITY, a town, port of entry and the county-seat of Pasquotank county, North Carolina, U.S.A., on the Pasquotank river, at the head of navigation, 46 m. S. by E. of Norfolk, Virginia. Pop. (1890) 3251; (1900) 6348 (3164 negroes); (1910) 8412. It is served by the Norfolk & Southern, and the Suffolk & Carolina railways, and is on the Dismal Swamp and Albemarle & Chesapeake canals. Elizabeth City is a winter meeting-place for hunters. It is the seat of a state normal school for negroes and of the Atlantic Collegiate Institute, is a trucking centre, has shipyards, and has a large wholesale trade in clothing, groceries and general merchandise; from it are shipped considerable quantities of fish, cotton and lumber. The town is the port of entry of the Albemarle customs district, but its foreign trade is unimportant. Among its manufactures are cotton goods, iron, lumber, nets and twine, bricks, and carriages and wagons. The oyster fisheries in the vicinity are of considerable importance. Elizabeth City was settled in 1793, and was first incorporated in the same year.
ELIZABETH CITY is a town, port of entry, and the county seat of Pasquotank County, North Carolina, U.S.A., located on the Pasquotank River, at the head of navigation, 46 miles southeast of Norfolk, Virginia. Population: (1890) 3,251; (1900) 6,348 (3,164 African American); (1910) 8,412. It is served by the Norfolk & Southern and the Suffolk & Carolina railways, and is on the Dismal Swamp and Albemarle & Chesapeake canals. Elizabeth City is a winter gathering place for hunters. It is home to a state normal school for African Americans and the Atlantic Collegiate Institute, serves as a center for trucking, has shipyards, and has a significant wholesale trade in clothing, groceries, and general merchandise; it also ships considerable quantities of fish, cotton, and lumber. The town is the port of entry for the Albemarle customs district, but its foreign trade is minimal. Its manufactured goods include cotton products, iron, lumber, nets and twine, bricks, and carriages and wagons. The local oyster fisheries are quite important. Elizabeth City was settled in 1793 and was first incorporated that same year.
ELK, or Moose, the largest of all the deer tribe, distinguished from other members of the Cervidae by the form of the antlers of the males. These arise as cylindrical beams projecting on each side at right angles to the middle line of the skull, which after a short distance divide in a fork-like manner. The lower prong of this fork may be either simple, or divided into two or three tines, with some flattening. In the East Siberian elk (Alces machlis bedfordiae) the posterior division of the main fork divides into three tines, with no distinct flattening. In the common elk (A. machlis or A. alces), on the other hand, this branch usually expands into a broad palmation, with one large tine at the base, and a number of smaller snags on the free border; there is, however, a phase of the Scandinavian elk in which the antlers are simpler, and recall those of the East Siberian race. The palmation appears to be more marked in the North American race (A. m. americanus) than in the typical Scandinavian elk. The largest of all is the Alaskan race (A. m. gigas), which is said to stand 8 ft. in height, with a span of 6 ft. across the antlers. The great length of the legs gives a decidedly ungainly appearance to the elk. The muzzle is long and fleshy, with only a very small triangular naked patch below the nostrils; and the males have a peculiar sac, known as the bell, hanging from the neck. From the shortness of their necks, elks are unable to graze, and their chief food consists of young shoots and leaves of willow and birch. In North America during the winter one male and several females form a “moose-yard” in the forest, which they keep open by trampling the snow. Although generally timid, the males become very bold during the breeding season, when the females utter a loud call; and at such times they fight both with their antlers and their hoofs. The usual pace is a shambling trot, but when pressed elks break into a gallop. The female gives birth to one or two young at a time, which are not spotted. In America the elk is known as the moose, and the former name is transferred to the wapiti deer.
ELK, or Moose, the largest of all the deer family, is distinguished from other members of the Cervidae by the shape of the males' antlers. These antlers start as cylindrical beams on each side of the skull that extend out at right angles, then divide into fork-like branches after a short distance. The lower prong of this fork can either be simple or split into two or three tines, often with some flattening. In the East Siberian elk (Alces machlis bedfordiae), the back part of the main fork branches into three tines without distinct flattening. In the common elk (A. machlis or A. alces), this branch typically broadens into a wide palmation, featuring one large tine at the base and several smaller points along the edge; however, there is a variant of the Scandinavian elk where the antlers are simpler and resemble those of the East Siberian type. The palmation seems more pronounced in the North American variety (A. m. americanus) than in the typical Scandinavian elk. The largest of all is the Alaskan race (A. m. gigas), which is said to reach a height of 8 ft. and has a 6 ft. span across its antlers. The long legs give the elk a somewhat awkward appearance. The muzzle is long and fleshy, with only a tiny triangular bare patch beneath the nostrils; male elks have a unique sac, called a bell, hanging from their necks. Due to their short necks, elks cannot graze effectively, primarily feeding on the young shoots and leaves of willow and birch. In North America during winter, a male and several females form a “moose-yard” in the woods, which they keep clear by trampling the snow. While generally shy, the males become quite aggressive during the breeding season when the females make loud calls; at this time, they fight using their antlers and hooves. Their usual movement is a slow trot, but when pressured, they can break into a gallop. The female typically gives birth to one or two young at a time, which are not spotted. In America, the elk is referred to as the moose, while the name elk is used for the wapiti deer.
ELKHART, a city of Elkhart county, Indiana, U.S.A., at the confluence of the Elkhart and St Joseph rivers, about 100 m. E. of Chicago. Pop. (1890) 11,360; (1900) 15,184, of whom 1353 were foreign-born; (1910 census) 19,282. Elkhart is at the junction of the western division with the main line of the Lake Shore & Michigan Southern railway, and is served by the Cleveland, Cincinnati, Chicago & St Louis, and the Northern Indiana railways (the latter electric). It is attractively situated and has fine business and public buildings, including a Carnegie library and the Clark hospital, with which a nurses’ training school is connected. It has also several parks, including the beautiful Island Park and McNaughton Park, the latter the annual meeting-place of the St Joseph Valley Chautauqua. A valuable water-power is utilized for manufacturing purposes. There are extensive railway-car shops and iron and brass foundries, and the manufactures include band instruments, furniture, telephone supplies, electric transformers, bridges, paper, flour, starch, rubber goods, acetylene gas machines, printing presses, drugs and carriages. The total value of the factory product was $4,345,466 in 1905, an increase of 10.5% since 1900. At Elkhart is the main publishing house of the Mennonite Church in America, two weekly periodicals being issued, one in English, The Herald of Truth, and one in German, the Mennonitische Rundschau. The first settlement was made here about 1834; and Elkhart was chartered as a city in 1875.
ELKHART, a city in Elkhart County, Indiana, U.S.A., is located at the confluence of the Elkhart and St. Joseph Rivers, about 100 miles east of Chicago. Population: (1890) 11,360; (1900) 15,184, including 1,353 foreign-born residents; (1910 census) 19,282. Elkhart is where the western division connects with the main line of the Lake Shore & Michigan Southern railway, and it’s also served by the Cleveland, Cincinnati, Chicago & St Louis, and the Northern Indiana railways (the latter being electric). The city is nicely located and features impressive business and public buildings, including a Carnegie library and the Clark hospital, which has an associated nursing training school. Elkhart has several parks, including the lovely Island Park and McNaughton Park, which hosts the annual meeting of the St. Joseph Valley Chautauqua. A significant amount of water power is harnessed for manufacturing. There are large railway-car shops and iron and brass foundries, with products spanning band instruments, furniture, telephone supplies, electric transformers, bridges, paper, flour, starch, rubber goods, acetylene gas machines, printing presses, drugs, and carriages. The total factory output was valued at $4,345,466 in 1905, reflecting a 10.5% increase since 1900. Elkhart houses the main publishing office of the Mennonite Church in America, which produces two weekly periodicals: one in English, The Herald of Truth, and one in German, Mennonitische Rundschau. The first settlement here occurred around 1834, and Elkhart was officially chartered as a city in 1875.
ELKINGTON, GEORGE RICHARDS (1801-1865), founder of the electroplating industry in England, was born in Birmingham on the 17th of October 1801, the son of a spectacle manufacturer. Apprenticed to his uncles, silver platers in Birmingham, he became, on their death, sole proprietor of the business, but subsequently took his cousin, Henry Elkington, into partnership. The science of electrometallurgy was then in its infancy, but the Elkingtons were quick to recognize its possibilities. They had already taken out certain patents for the application of electricity to metals when, in 1840, John Wright, a Birmingham surgeon, discovered the valuable properties of a solution of cyanide of silver in cyanide of potassium for electroplating purposes. The Elkingtons purchased and patented Wright’s process, subsequently acquiring the rights of other processes and improvements. Large new works for electroplating and electrogilding were opened in Birmingham in 1841, and in the following year Josiah Mason became a partner in the firm. George Richards Elkington died on the 22nd of September 1865, and Henry Elkington on the 26th of October 1852.
ELKINGTON, GEORGE RICHARDS (1801-1865), founder of the electroplating industry in England, was born in Birmingham on October 17, 1801, the son of a spectacle manufacturer. He was apprenticed to his uncles, who were silver platers in Birmingham, and became the sole owner of the business upon their deaths, later bringing his cousin, Henry Elkington, into the partnership. At that time, the science of electrometallurgy was just starting out, but the Elkingtons quickly recognized its potential. They had already obtained certain patents for using electricity with metals when, in 1840, John Wright, a surgeon from Birmingham, discovered the useful properties of a solution of cyanide of silver in cyanide of potassium for electroplating. The Elkingtons bought and patented Wright’s process, and later acquired rights to other processes and improvements. In 1841, they opened large new facilities for electroplating and electrogilding in Birmingham, and the following year, Josiah Mason became a partner in the firm. George Richards Elkington died on September 22, 1865, and Henry Elkington passed away on October 26, 1852.
ELLA, or Ælla, the name of three Anglo-Saxon kings.
Ella (d. c. 514), king of the South Saxons and founder of the kingdom of Sussex, was a Saxon ealdorman, who landed near Arundel in Sussex with his three sons in 477. Defeating the Britons, who were driven into the forest of Andredsweald, Ella and his followers established themselves along the south coast, although their progress was slow and difficult. However, in 491, strengthened by the arrival of fresh bands of immigrants, they captured the Roman city of Anderida and “slew all that were therein.” Ella, who is reckoned as the first Bretwalda, then became king of the South Saxons, and, when he died about 514, he was succeeded by his son Cissa.
Ella (d. c. 514), the king of the South Saxons and founder of the kingdom of Sussex, was a Saxon nobleman who arrived near Arundel in Sussex with his three sons in 477. After defeating the Britons, who were pushed into the Andredsweald Forest, Ella and his followers settled along the south coast, although their advancement was slow and challenging. However, in 491, bolstered by new groups of immigrants, they took over the Roman city of Anderida and “killed everyone there.” Ella, considered the first Bretwalda, then became king of the South Saxons, and when he passed away around 514, his son Cissa succeeded him.
Ella (d. 588), king of the Deirans, was the son of an ealdorman named Iffa, and became the first king of Deira when, in 559, the Deirans separated themselves from the neighbouring kingdom of Bernicia. The English slaves, who aroused the interest of Pope Gregory I. at Rome, were subjects of Ella, and on this occasion the pope, punning the name of their king, suggested that “Alleluia” should be sung in his land. When Ella died in 588 Deira was conquered by Bernicia. One of his sons was Edwin, afterwards king of the Northumbrians.
Ella (d. 588), king of the Deirans, was the son of an ealdorman named Iffa, and became the first king of Deira when, in 559, the Deirans broke away from the neighboring kingdom of Bernicia. The English slaves, who caught the attention of Pope Gregory I in Rome, were subjects of Ella. On this occasion, the pope made a play on the king’s name and suggested that “Alleluia” should be sung in his territory. When Ella died in 588, Deira was conquered by Bernicia. One of his sons was Edwin, later the king of the Northumbrians.
Ella (d. 867), king of the Northumbrians, became king about 862 on the deposition of Osbert, although he was not of royal birth. Afterwards he became reconciled with Osbert, and together they attacked the Danes, who had invaded Northumbria, and drove them into York. Rallying, however, the Danes defeated the Northumbrians, and in the encounter both Ella and Osbert were slain. In certain legends Ella is represented 289 as having brought about the Danish invasion of Northumbria by cruel and unjust actions.
Ella (d. 867), king of the Northumbrians, became king around 862 after Osbert was deposed, even though he wasn’t of royal descent. Later, he reconciled with Osbert, and together they launched an attack against the Danes, who had invaded Northumbria, driving them back to York. However, the Danes regrouped and defeated the Northumbrians, resulting in the deaths of both Ella and Osbert in the battle. In some legends, Ella is portrayed as having instigated the Danish invasion of Northumbria through cruel and unjust actions. 289
See The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, edited by C. Plummer (Oxford, 1892-1899); Bede, Historiae ecclesiasticae, edited by C. Plummer (Oxford, 1896); Henry of Huntingdon, Historia Anglorum, edited by T. Arnold, Rolls Series (London, 1879); Asser, De rebus gestis Aelfredi, edited by W.H. Stevenson (Oxford, 1904); J.R. Green, The Making of England (London, 1897), and the Dictionary of National Biography, vol. i. (London, 1895).
See The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, edited by C. Plummer (Oxford, 1892-1899); Bede, Historiae ecclesiasticae, edited by C. Plummer (Oxford, 1896); Henry of Huntingdon, Historia Anglorum, edited by T. Arnold, Rolls Series (London, 1879); Asser, De rebus gestis Aelfredi, edited by W.H. Stevenson (Oxford, 1904); J.R. Green, The Making of England (London, 1897), and the Dictionary of National Biography, vol. i. (London, 1895).
ELLAND, an urban district in the Elland parliamentary division of Yorkshire, England, on the Calder, 2½ m. S. of Halifax by the Lancashire & Yorkshire railway. Pop. (1901) 10,412. The church of St Mary is Decorated and Perpendicular. Cotton-mills, woollen-factories, ironworks, flagstone quarries at Elland Edge, and fire-clay works employ the industrial population. Elland Hall, though almost rebuilt, retains the recollection of a remarkable family feud between the Ellands and the Beaumonts of Crosland Hall, the site of which may be traced in the vicinity. A nephew of Sir John Elland, in 1342, met death at the hands of a relative of the Beaumonts upon whom Sir John took vengeance, as also upon the heads of the allied houses of Lockwood and Quarmby. The children of these families were educated in the hope of avenging their parents, and after many years succeeded in doing so, cutting off Sir John Elland and his heir.
ELLAND, an urban area in the Elland parliamentary division of Yorkshire, England, located on the Calder, 2½ miles south of Halifax by the Lancashire & Yorkshire railway. Population (1901) 10,412. The church of St Mary features Decorated and Perpendicular architecture. Cotton mills, woollen factories, ironworks, flagstone quarries at Elland Edge, and fire-clay works provide jobs for the local industrial workforce. Elland Hall, although mostly rebuilt, still holds memories of a notable family feud between the Ellands and the Beaumonts of Crosland Hall, whose location can be found nearby. A nephew of Sir John Elland was killed in 1342 by a relative of the Beaumonts, leading Sir John to seek revenge, targeting not just the Beaumonts but also their allies, the Lockwood and Quarmby families. The children from these families were raised with the intention of avenging their parents, and after many years, they succeeded in doing so, resulting in the deaths of Sir John Elland and his heir.
ELLENBOROUGH, EDWARD LAW, 1st Baron (1750-1818), English judge, was born on the 16th of November 1750, at Great Salkeld, in Cumberland, of which place his father, Edmund Law (1703-1787), afterwards bishop of Carlisle, was at the time rector. Educated at the Charterhouse and at Peterhouse, Cambridge, he passed as third wrangler, and was soon afterwards elected to a fellowship at Trinity. In spite of his father’s strong wish that he should take orders, he chose the legal profession, and on quitting the university was entered at Lincoln’s Inn. After spending five years as a special pleader under the bar, he was called to the bar in 1780. He chose the northern circuit, and in a very short time obtained a lucrative practice and a high reputation. In 1787 he was appointed principal counsel for Warren Hastings in the celebrated impeachment trial before the House of Lords, and the ability with which he conducted the defence was universally recognized. He had begun his political career as a Whig, but, like many others, he saw in the French Revolution a reason for changing sides, and became a supporter of Pitt. On the formation of the Addington ministry in 1801, he was appointed attorney-general and shortly afterwards was returned to the House of Commons as member for Newtown in the Isle of Wight. In 1802 he succeeded Lord Kenyon as chief justice of the king’s bench. On being raised to the bench he was created a peer, taking his title from the village of Ellenborough in Cumberland, where his maternal ancestors had long held a small patrimony. In 1806, on the formation of Lord Grenville’s ministry “of all the talents,” Lord Ellenborough declined the offer of the great seal, but accepted a seat in the cabinet. His doing so while he retained the chief justiceship was much criticized at the time, and, though not without precedent, was open to such obvious objections on constitutional grounds that the experiment has not since been repeated. As a judge he had grave faults, though his decisions displayed profound legal knowledge, and in mercantile law especially were reckoned of high authority. He was harsh and overbearing to counsel, and in the political trials which were so frequent in his time showed an unmistakable bias against the accused. In the trial of William Hone (q.v.) for blasphemy in 1817, Ellenborough directed the jury to find a verdict of guilty, and their acquittal of the prisoner is generally said to have hastened his death. He resigned his judicial office in November 1818, and died on the 13th of December following.
ELLENBOROUGH, EDWARD LAW, 1st Baron (1750-1818), English judge, was born on November 16, 1750, in Great Salkeld, Cumberland, where his father, Edmund Law (1703-1787), who later became the bishop of Carlisle, was the rector at the time. He studied at Charterhouse and Peterhouse, Cambridge, where he graduated as the third wrangler and was soon elected to a fellowship at Trinity. Despite his father's strong desire for him to enter the clergy, he opted for a career in law and was admitted to Lincoln’s Inn after leaving university. After five years working as a special pleader, he was called to the bar in 1780. He chose to practice on the northern circuit and quickly gained a profitable practice and a solid reputation. In 1787, he was appointed principal counsel for Warren Hastings during the famous impeachment trial in the House of Lords, and his skillful defense was widely acknowledged. He started his political career as a Whig, but like many others, he saw the French Revolution as a reason to switch sides and became a supporter of Pitt. When Lord Addington formed his ministry in 1801, he was appointed attorney-general and shortly after was elected to the House of Commons representing Newtown in the Isle of Wight. In 1802, he succeeded Lord Kenyon as chief justice of the king’s bench. When he was elevated to the bench, he was made a peer and took his title from the village of Ellenborough in Cumberland, where his maternal ancestors had long owned a small estate. In 1806, when Lord Grenville formed his “ministry of all the talents,” Lord Ellenborough turned down the opportunity to hold the great seal but accepted a cabinet position. His decision to retain the chief justiceship while serving in the cabinet faced significant criticism at the time, and while there were precedents for it, the clear constitutional issues it raised have prevented it from happening again. As a judge, he had significant flaws, though his decisions demonstrated deep legal knowledge, especially in mercantile law, where they were highly regarded. He was often harsh and domineering with counsel, and in the politically charged trials of his day, he showed a clear bias against the accused. During the trial of William Hone (q.v.) for blasphemy in 1817, Ellenborough instructed the jury to return a guilty verdict, and the subsequent acquittal of the defendant is generally thought to have hastened his own death. He resigned from his judicial position in November 1818 and passed away on December 13 of that year.
Ellenborough was succeeded as 2nd baron by his eldest son, Edward, afterwards earl of Ellenborough; another son was Charles Ewan Law (1792-1850), recorder of London and member of parliament for Cambridge University from 1835 until his death in August 1850.
Ellenborough was succeeded as the 2nd baron by his oldest son, Edward, who later became the earl of Ellenborough; another son was Charles Ewan Law (1792-1850), who served as the recorder of London and was a member of parliament for Cambridge University from 1835 until his death in August 1850.
Three of Ellenborough’s brothers attained some degree of fame. These were John Law (1745-1810), bishop of Elphin; Thomas Law (1759-1834), who settled in the United States in 1793, and married, as his second wife, Anne, a granddaughter of Martha Washington; and George Henry Law (1761-1845), bishop of Chester and of Bath and Wells. The connexion of the Law family with the English Church was kept up by George Henry’s sons, three of whom took orders. Two of these were Henry Law (1797-1884), dean of Gloucester, and James Thomas Law (1790-1876), chancellor of the diocese of Lichfield.
Three of Ellenborough’s brothers became somewhat famous. They were John Law (1745-1810), bishop of Elphin; Thomas Law (1759-1834), who moved to the United States in 1793 and married Anne, a granddaughter of Martha Washington, as his second wife; and George Henry Law (1761-1845), bishop of Chester and Bath and Wells. The connection of the Law family with the Church of England was maintained by George Henry’s sons, three of whom became clergymen. Two of them were Henry Law (1797-1884), dean of Gloucester, and James Thomas Law (1790-1876), chancellor of the diocese of Lichfield.
ELLENBOROUGH, EDWARD LAW, Earl of (1790-1871), the eldest son of the 1st Lord Ellenborough, was born on the 8th of September 1790. He was educated at Eton and St John’s College, Cambridge. He represented the subsequently disfranchised borough of St Michael’s, Cornwall, in the House of Commons, until the death of his father in 1818 gave him a seat in the House of Lords. He was twice married; his only child died young; his second wife was divorced by act of parliament in 1830.
ELLENBOROUGH, EDWARD LAW, Earl of (1790-1871), the eldest son of the 1st Lord Ellenborough, was born on September 8, 1790. He was educated at Eton and St John’s College, Cambridge. He represented the borough of St Michael’s, Cornwall, in the House of Commons until his father passed away in 1818, which earned him a seat in the House of Lords. He was married twice; his only child died young, and his second wife was divorced by an act of parliament in 1830.
In the Wellington administration of 1828 Ellenborough was made lord privy seal; he took a considerable share in the business of the foreign office, as an unofficial assistant to Wellington, who was a great admirer of his talents. He aimed at succeeding Lord Dudley at the foreign office, but was forced to content himself with the presidency of the board of control, which he retained until the fall of the ministry in 1830. Ellenborough was an active administrator, and took a lively interest in questions of Indian policy. The revision of the company’s charter was approaching, and he held that the government of India should be transferred directly to the crown. He was impressed with the growing importance of a knowledge of central Asia, in the event of a Russian advance towards the Indian frontier, and despatched Burnes on an exploring mission to that district. Ellenborough subsequently returned to the board of control in Peel’s first and second administrations. He had only held office for a month on the third occasion when he was appointed by the court of directors to succeed Lord Auckland as governor-general of India. His Indian administration of two and a half years, or half the usual term of service, was from first to last a subject of hostile criticism. His own letters sent monthly to the queen, and his correspondence with the duke of Wellington, published in 1874, afford material for an intelligent and impartial judgment of his meteoric career. The events chiefly in dispute are his policy towards Afghanistan and the army and captives there, his conquest of Sind, and his campaign in Gwalior.
In the Wellington administration of 1828, Ellenborough became lord privy seal; he played a significant role in the foreign office as an unofficial assistant to Wellington, who greatly admired his skills. He aimed to succeed Lord Dudley at the foreign office but had to settle for the presidency of the board of control, which he held until the ministry collapsed in 1830. Ellenborough was an active administrator and was deeply interested in Indian policy issues. With the revision of the company’s charter approaching, he believed that the governance of India should be transferred directly to the crown. He recognized the increasing importance of understanding central Asia in case of a Russian advance toward the Indian frontier and sent Burnes on an exploration mission to that area. Ellenborough later returned to the board of control during Peel’s first and second administrations. He only served for a month during his third term when he was appointed by the court of directors to succeed Lord Auckland as governor-general of India. His two-and-a-half-year administration in India, which was half the usual term of service, was met with criticism from the start. His monthly letters to the queen and his correspondence with the Duke of Wellington, published in 1874, provide material for an informed and unbiased evaluation of his rapid career. The main points of contention are his policy regarding Afghanistan and the army and captives there, his conquest of Sind, and his campaign in Gwalior.
Ellenborough went to India in order “to restore peace to Asia,” but the whole term of his office was occupied in war. On his arrival there the news that greeted him was that of the massacre of Kabul, and the sieges of Ghazni and Jalalabad, while the sepoys of Madras were on the verge of open mutiny. In his proclamation of the 15th of March 1842, as in his memorandum for the queen dated the 18th, he stated with characteristic clearness and eloquence the duty of first inflicting some signal and decisive blow on the Afghans, and then leaving them to govern themselves under the sovereign of their own choice. Unhappily, when he left his council for upper India, and learned the trifling failure of General England, he instructed Pollock and Nott, who were advancing triumphantly with their avenging columns to rescue the British captives, to fall back. The army proved true to the governor-general’s earlier proclamation rather than to his later fears; the hostages were rescued, the scene of Sir Alexander Burnes’s murder in the heart of Kabul was burned down. Dost Mahommed was quietly dismissed from a prison in Calcutta to the throne in the Bala Hissar, and Ellenborough presided over the painting of the elephants for an unprecedented military spectacle at Ferozepur, on the south bank of the Sutlej. But this was not the only piece of theatrical display which capped with ridicule the horrors and the follies of these four years in Afghanistan. When Sultan Mahmud, in 1024, sacked the Hindu temple of Somnath on the north-west coast of India, he carried off, with the treasures, the richly studded sandal-wood gates of the fane, and set them up in his 290 capital of Ghazni. The Mahommedan puppet of the English, Shah Shuja, had been asked, when ruler of Afghanistan, to restore them to India; and what he had failed to do the Christian ruler of opposing Mahommedans and Hindus resolved to effect in the most solemn and public manner. In vain had Major (afterwards Sir Henry) Rawlinson proved that they were only reproductions of the original gates, to which the Ghazni moulvies clung merely as a source of offerings from the faithful who visited the old conqueror’s tomb. In vain did the Hindu sepoys show the most chilling indifference to the belauded restoration. Ellenborough could not resist the temptation to copy Napoleon’s magniloquent proclamation under the pyramids. The fraudulent folding doors were conveyed on a triumphal car to the fort of Agra, where they were found to be made not of sandalwood but of deal. That Somnath proclamation (immortalized in a speech by Macaulay) was the first step towards its author’s recall.
Ellenborough went to India to “restore peace to Asia,” but his entire tenure was consumed by war. When he arrived, the first news he received was about the massacre in Kabul, the sieges at Ghazni and Jalalabad, and the sepoys in Madras who were on the brink of mutiny. In his proclamation on March 15, 1842, and his memorandum for the queen dated the 18th, he clearly and eloquently stated the need to deliver a significant and decisive blow to the Afghans before allowing them to govern themselves under a leader of their own choosing. Unfortunately, after he left his council for upper India and learned about General England's minor failure, he ordered Pollock and Nott, who were advancing victoriously to rescue the British captives, to retreat. The army remained loyal to the governor-general’s earlier proclamation rather than his later concerns; the hostages were rescued, and the site of Sir Alexander Burnes’s murder in the heart of Kabul was burned down. Dost Mahommed was quietly released from a prison in Calcutta to take the throne in the Bala Hissar, while Ellenborough oversaw the painting of the elephants for an unprecedented military spectacle in Ferozepur, on the south bank of the Sutlej. But this was not the only theatrical display that mocked the horrors and mistakes of those four years in Afghanistan. Back in 1024, Sultan Mahmud sacked the Hindu temple of Somnath on India’s northwest coast, taking with him the treasures and the beautifully decorated sandalwood gates, which he displayed in his capital of Ghazni. The English puppet ruler of Afghanistan, Shah Shuja, had been asked to return them to India but had failed. Now, a Christian ruler of opposing Muslims and Hindus was determined to make it happen in the most solemn and public way. Major (later Sir Henry) Rawlinson's efforts to prove that the gates were just reproductions went in vain, as the Ghazni clerics clung to them for the offerings from faithful visitors to the old conqueror’s tomb. The Hindu sepoys also showed chilling indifference to the glorified restoration. Ellenborough couldn’t resist the temptation to mimic Napoleon’s grand proclamation at the pyramids. The fake folding doors were transported on a triumphal cart to the fort of Agra, where they were discovered to be made of deal instead of sandalwood. That Somnath proclamation, famously referenced in a speech by Macaulay, was the first step towards the author’s eventual recall.
Hardly had Ellenborough issued his medal with the legend “Pax Asiae Restituta” when he was at war with the amirs of Sind. The tributary amirs had on the whole been faithful, for Major (afterwards Sir James) Outram controlled them. But he had reported the opposition of a few, and Ellenborough ordered an inquiry. His instructions were admirable, in equity as well as energy, and if Outram had been left to carry them out all would have been well. But the duty was entrusted to Sir Charles Napier, with full political as well as military powers. And to add to the evil, Mir Ali Morad intrigued with both sides so effectually that he betrayed the amirs on the one hand, while he deluded Sir Charles Napier to their destruction on the other. Ellenborough was led on till events were beyond his control, and his own just and merciful instructions were forgotten. Sir Charles Napier made more than one confession like this: “We have no right to seize Sind, yet we shall do so, and a very advantageous, useful and humane piece of rascality it will be.” The battles of Meeanee and Hyderabad followed; and the Indus became a British river from Karachi to Multan.
Hardly had Ellenborough issued his medal with the inscription “Pax Asiae Restituta” when he was at war with the amirs of Sind. The tributary amirs had mostly been loyal, thanks to Major (later Sir James) Outram’s oversight. However, he had reported some resistance from a few, prompting Ellenborough to call for an investigation. His instructions were excellent, combining fairness and decisiveness, and if Outram had been left to implement them, everything would have turned out fine. Instead, the responsibility was given to Sir Charles Napier, who had full political and military authority. To make matters worse, Mir Ali Morad played both sides effectively, betraying the amirs while misleading Sir Charles Napier, leading to their downfall. Ellenborough became increasingly out of control, and his own fair and merciful directives were forgotten. Sir Charles Napier made more than one statement like this: “We have no right to seize Sind, yet we will do so, and it will be a very beneficial, practical, and humane act of villainy.” The battles of Meeanee and Hyderabad followed; and the Indus became a British river from Karachi to Multan.
Sind had hardly been disposed of when troubles arose on both sides of the governor-general, who was then at Agra. On the north the disordered kingdom of the Sikhs was threatening the frontier. In Gwalior to the south, the feudatory Mahratta state, there were a large mutinous army, a Ranee only twelve years of age, an adopted chief of eight, and factions in the council of ministers. These conditions brought Gwalior to the verge of civil war. Ellenborough reviewed the danger in the minute of the 1st of November 1845, and told Sir Hugh Gough to advance. Further treachery and military licence rendered the battles of Maharajpur and Punniar, fought on the same day, inevitable though they were, a surprise to the combatants. The treaty that followed was as merciful as it was wise. The pacification of Gwalior also had its effect beyond the Sutlej, where anarchy was restrained for yet another year, and the work of civilization was left to Ellenborough’s two successors. But by this time the patience of the directors was exhausted. They had no control over Ellenborough’s policy; his despatches to them were haughty and disrespectful; and in June 1844 they exercised their power of recalling him.
Sind had barely been dealt with when problems cropped up on both sides of the governor-general, who was in Agra at the time. To the north, the chaotic kingdom of the Sikhs was threatening the border. In Gwalior to the south, the feudal Mahratta state had a large rebellious army, a Ranee who was only twelve years old, an adopted chief who was eight, and divisions in the council of ministers. These circumstances pushed Gwalior to the brink of civil war. Ellenborough assessed the situation in a memo on November 1, 1845, and directed Sir Hugh Gough to take action. Additional betrayal and military misconduct made the battles of Maharajpur and Punniar, fought on the same day, unavoidable, even though they caught the fighters off guard. The treaty that followed was as compassionate as it was strategic. The stabilization of Gwalior also had repercussions beyond the Sutlej, where chaos was kept in check for yet another year, leaving the mission of progress to Ellenborough’s two successors. However, by this time, the directors had lost their patience. They had no control over Ellenborough’s approach; his communications with them were arrogant and disrespectful, and in June 1844 they exercised their authority to recall him.
On his return to England Ellenborough was created an earl and received the thanks of parliament; but his administration speedily became the theme of hostile debates, though it was successfully vindicated by Peel and Wellington. When Peel’s cabinet was reconstituted in 1846 Ellenborough became first lord of the admiralty. In 1858 he took office under Lord Derby as president of the board of control, for the fourth time. It was then his congenial task to draft the new scheme for the government of India which the mutiny had rendered necessary. But his old fault of impetuosity again proved his stumbling-block. He wrote a caustic despatch censuring Lord Canning for the Oudh proclamation, and allowed it to be published in The Times without consulting his colleagues, who disavowed his action in this respect. General disapprobation was excited; votes of censure were announced in both Houses; and, to save the cabinet, Ellenborough resigned.
On his return to England, Ellenborough was made an earl and received thanks from Parliament; however, his management quickly became a topic of contentious debates, although it was successfully defended by Peel and Wellington. When Peel’s cabinet was restructured in 1846, Ellenborough became the First Lord of the Admiralty. In 1858, he took office under Lord Derby as President of the Board of Control for the fourth time. It was then his fitting role to draft the new plan for governing India, which the mutiny had made necessary. But his old flaw of impulsiveness once again became an obstacle. He wrote a sharp dispatch criticizing Lord Canning for the Oudh proclamation and allowed it to be published in The Times without consulting his colleagues, who later distanced themselves from his actions. This caused widespread disapproval; votes of censure were proposed in both Houses; and, to protect the cabinet, Ellenborough resigned.
But for this act of rashness he might have enjoyed the task of carrying into effect the home constitution for the government of India which he sketched in his evidence before the select committee of the House of Commons on Indian territories on the 8th of June 1852. Paying off his old score against the East India Company, he then advocated the abolition of the court of directors as a governing body, the opening of the civil service to the army, the transference of the government to the crown, and the appointment of a council to advise the minister who should take the place of the president of the board of control. These suggestions of 1852 were carried out by his successor Lord Stanley, afterwards earl of Derby, in 1858, so closely even in details, that Lord Ellenborough must be pronounced the author, for good or evil, of the present home constitution of the government of India. Though acknowledged to be one of the foremost orators in the House of Lords, and taking a frequent part in debate, Ellenborough never held office again. He died at his seat, Southam House, near Cheltenham, on the 22nd of December 1871, when the barony reverted to his nephew Charles Edmund Law (1820-1890), the earldom becoming extinct.
But for this impulsive act, he might have enjoyed the task of implementing the domestic constitution for governing India, which he outlined in his testimony before the select committee of the House of Commons on Indian territories on June 8, 1852. Settling his old score with the East India Company, he then pushed for the abolition of the court of directors as a governing body, the opening up of the civil service to the army, the transfer of government to the crown, and the establishment of a council to advise the minister who would take the place of the president of the board of control. These suggestions from 1852 were executed by his successor Lord Stanley, later known as the Earl of Derby, in 1858, so closely in detail that Lord Ellenborough must be considered the author, for better or worse, of the current home constitution of the government of India. Although recognized as one of the leading speakers in the House of Lords and participating frequently in debates, Ellenborough never held office again. He passed away at his residence, Southam House, near Cheltenham, on December 22, 1871, at which point the barony reverted to his nephew Charles Edmund Law (1820-1890), and the earldom became extinct.
See History of the Indian Administration (Bentley, 1874), edited by Lord Colchester; Minutes of Evidence taken before the Select Committee on Indian Territories (June 1852); volume i. of the Calcutta Review; the Friend of India, during the years 1842-1845; and John Hope, The House of Scindea: A Sketch (Longmans, 1863). The numerous books by and against Sir Charles Napier, on the conquest of Sind, should be consulted.
See History of the Indian Administration (Bentley, 1874), edited by Lord Colchester; Minutes of Evidence taken before the Select Committee on Indian Territories (June 1852); volume i. of the Calcutta Review; the Friend of India, during the years 1842-1845; and John Hope, The House of Scindea: A Sketch (Longmans, 1863). The numerous books for and against Sir Charles Napier regarding the conquest of Sind should be reviewed.
ELLERY, WILLIAM (1727-1820), American politician, a signer of the Declaration of Independence, was born in Newport, Rhode Island, on the 22nd of December 1727. He graduated from Harvard in 1747, engaged in trade, studied law, and was admitted to the bar in 1770. He was a member of the Rhode Island committee of safety in 1775-1776, and was a delegate in Congress in 1776-1781 and again in 1783-1785. Just after his first election to Congress, he was placed on the important marine committee, and he was made a member of the board of admiralty when it was established in 1779. In April 1786 he was elected commissioner of the continental loan office for the state of Rhode Island and from 1790 until his death at Newport, on the 15th of February 1820, he was collector of the customs for the district of Newport.
ELLERY, WILLIAM (1727-1820), an American politician and signer of the Declaration of Independence, was born in Newport, Rhode Island, on December 22, 1727. He graduated from Harvard in 1747, went into trade, studied law, and was admitted to the bar in 1770. He served on the Rhode Island committee of safety from 1775 to 1776 and was a delegate in Congress from 1776 to 1781 and again from 1783 to 1785. Shortly after his first election to Congress, he joined the important marine committee and became a member of the board of admiralty when it was set up in 1779. In April 1786, he was elected commissioner of the continental loan office for Rhode Island, and from 1790 until his death in Newport on February 15, 1820, he was the customs collector for the Newport district.
See Edward T. Channing, “Life of William Ellery,” in vol. 6 of Jared Sparks’s American Biography (Boston and London, 1836).
See Edward T. Channing, “Life of William Ellery,” in vol. 6 of Jared Sparks’s American Biography (Boston and London, 1836).
ELLESMERE, FRANCIS EGERTON, 1st Earl of (1800-1857), born in London on the 1st of January 1800, was the second son of the 1st duke of Sutherland. He was known by his patronymic as Lord Francis Leveson Gower until 1833, when he assumed the surname of Egerton alone, having succeeded on the death of his father to the estates which the latter inherited from the duke of Bridgewater. Educated at Eton and at Christ Church, Oxford, he entered parliament soon after attaining his majority as member for the pocket borough of Bletchingly in Surrey. He afterwards sat for Sutherlandshire and for South Lancashire, which he represented when he was elevated to the peerage as earl of Ellesmere and Viscount Brackley in 1846. In politics he was a moderate Conservative of independent views, as was shown by his supporting the proposal for establishing the university of London, by his making and carrying a motion for the endowment of the Roman Catholic clergy in Ireland, and by his advocating free trade long before Sir Robert Peel yielded on the question. Appointed a lord of the treasury in 1827, he held the post of chief secretary for Ireland from 1828 till July 1830, when he became secretary-at-war for a short time. His claims to remembrance are founded chiefly on his services to literature and the fine arts. Before he was twenty he printed for private circulation a volume of poems, which he followed up after a short interval by the publication of a translation of Goethe’s Faust, one of the earliest that appeared in England, with some translations of German lyrics and a few original poems. In 1839 he visited the Mediterranean and the Holy Land. His impressions of travel were recorded in his very agreeably written Mediterranean Sketches (1843), and in the notes to a poem entitled The Pilgrimage. He published several other works in prose and verse, all displaying a fine literary taste. His literary reputation 291 secured for him the position of rector of Aberdeen University in 1841. Lord Ellesmere was a munificent and yet discriminating patron of artists. To the splendid collection of pictures which he inherited from his great-uncle, the 3rd duke of Bridgewater, he made numerous additions, and he built a noble gallery to which the public were allowed free access. Lord Ellesmere served as president of the Royal Geographical Society and as president of the Royal Asiatic Society, and he was a trustee of the National Gallery. He died on the 18th of February 1857. He was succeeded by his son (1823-1862) as 2nd earl, and his grandson (b. 1847) as 3rd earl.
ELLESMERE, FRANCIS EGERTON, 1st Earl of (1800-1857), born in London on January 1, 1800, was the second son of the 1st Duke of Sutherland. He was known as Lord Francis Leveson Gower until 1833, when he took on the surname Egerton after inheriting the estates from his father, who had received them from the Duke of Bridgewater. He was educated at Eton and Christ Church, Oxford, and entered parliament shortly after turning 21 as the representative for the pocket borough of Bletchingly in Surrey. He later served as a member for Sutherlandshire and South Lancashire, the latter of which he represented when he was elevated to the peerage as Earl of Ellesmere and Viscount Brackley in 1846. Politically, he was a moderate Conservative with independent views, as demonstrated by his support for establishing the University of London, proposing and successfully passing a motion to endow the Roman Catholic clergy in Ireland, and advocating for free trade long before Sir Robert Peel switched positions on the issue. Appointed a Lord of the Treasury in 1827, he was the Chief Secretary for Ireland from 1828 until July 1830, when he briefly became Secretary-at-War. His legacy is primarily based on his contributions to literature and the arts. Before he turned twenty, he published a collection of poems for private circulation, which he followed with an early English translation of Goethe’s Faust, along with translations of German lyrics and some original poems. In 1839, he traveled to the Mediterranean and the Holy Land, with his travel impressions recorded in his well-written Mediterranean Sketches (1843) and the notes to a poem titled The Pilgrimage. He published several other prose and poetry works, all showcasing a refined literary taste. His literary acclaim earned him the position of rector of Aberdeen University in 1841. Lord Ellesmere was a generous yet selective patron of artists. He added numerous pieces to the impressive collection of paintings he inherited from his great-uncle, the 3rd Duke of Bridgewater, and constructed a grand gallery that allowed public access. He served as president of the Royal Geographical Society and the Royal Asiatic Society, and was a trustee of the National Gallery. He passed away on February 18, 1857. He was succeeded by his son (1823-1862) as the 2nd earl, and his grandson (b. 1847) as the 3rd earl.
ELLESMERE, a market town in the Oswestry parliamentary division of Shropshire, England, on the main line of the Cambrian railway, 182 m. N.W. from London. Pop. of urban district (1901) 1945. It is prettily situated on the west shore of the mere or small lake from which it takes its name, while in the neighbourhood are other sheets of water, as Blake Mere, Cole Mere, White Mere, Newton Mere and Crose Mere. The church of St Mary is of various styles from Norman onward, but was partly rebuilt in 1848. The site of the castle is occupied by pleasure gardens, commanding an extensive view from high ground. The town hall contains a library and a natural history collection. The college is a large boys’ school. The town is an important agricultural centre. Ellesmere canal, a famous work of Thomas Telford, connects the Severn with the Mersey, crossing the Vale of Llangollen by an immense aqueduct, 336 yds. long and 127 ft. high.
ELLESMERE is a market town in the Oswestry parliamentary division of Shropshire, England, located on the main line of the Cambrian railway, 182 miles northwest of London. The population of the urban district was 1,945 in 1901. It's beautifully situated on the west shore of the mere, or small lake, which gives it its name, and is surrounded by other bodies of water, including Blake Mere, Cole Mere, White Mere, Newton Mere, and Crose Mere. The church of St. Mary features various architectural styles from Norman times onward but was partially rebuilt in 1848. The site of the castle is now occupied by pleasure gardens, offering a wide view from high ground. The town hall houses a library and a natural history collection. The college serves as a large boys’ school. The town is a significant agricultural hub. The Ellesmere Canal, an impressive project by Thomas Telford, connects the Severn with the Mersey, crossing the Vale of Llangollen via a massive aqueduct that is 336 yards long and 127 feet high.
The manor of Ellesmere (Ellesmeles) belonged before the Conquest to Earl Edwin of Mercia, and was granted by William the Conqueror to Roger, earl of Shrewsbury, whose son, Robert de Belesme, forfeited it in 1112 for treason against Henry I. In 1177 Henry II. gave it with his sister in marriage to David, son of Owen, prince of North Wales, after whose death it was retained by King John, who in 1206 granted it to his daughter Joan on her marriage with Llewellyn, prince of North Wales; it was finally surrendered to Henry III. by David, son of Llewellyn, about 1240. Ellesmere owed its early importance to its position on the Welsh borders and to its castle, which was in ruins, however, in 1349. While Ellesmere was in the hands of Joan, lady of Wales, she granted to the borough all the free customs of Breteuil. The town was governed by a bailiff appointed by a jury at one of the court leets of the lord of the manor, until a local board was formed in 1859. In 1221 Henry III. granted Llewellyn, prince of Wales, a market on Thursdays in Ellesmere. The inquisition taken in 1383 after the death of Roger le Straunge (Lord Strange), lord of Ellesmere, shows that he also held two fairs there on the feasts of St Martin and the Nativity of the Virgin Mary. By 1597 the market had been discontinued on account of the plague by which many of the inhabitants had died, and the queen granted that Sir Edward Kynaston, Kt., and thirteen others might hold a market every Thursday and a fair on the 3rd of November. Since 1792 both have been discontinued. The commerce of Ellesmere has always been chiefly agricultural.
The manor of Ellesmere (Ellesmeles) belonged to Earl Edwin of Mercia before the Conquest and was granted by William the Conqueror to Roger, Earl of Shrewsbury. Roger's son, Robert de Belesme, lost it in 1112 for treason against Henry I. In 1177, Henry II gave it to David, son of Owen, Prince of North Wales, through his sister’s marriage. After David's death, King John kept it and granted it to his daughter Joan when she married Llewellyn, Prince of North Wales. It was finally surrendered to Henry III by David, son of Llewellyn, around 1240. Ellesmere became important due to its location on the Welsh borders and its castle, which was in ruins by 1349. While in Joan's possession, Lady of Wales, she provided the borough with all the free customs of Breteuil. The town was ruled by a bailiff appointed by a jury at one of the lord of the manor’s court leets until a local board was formed in 1859. In 1221, Henry III granted Llewellyn, Prince of Wales, a market in Ellesmere on Thursdays. An inquisition held in 1383 after the death of Roger le Straunge (Lord Strange), lord of Ellesmere, revealed that he also held two fairs there on the feasts of St. Martin and the Nativity of the Virgin Mary. By 1597, the market had ended due to the plague that had killed many inhabitants, and the queen granted Sir Edward Kynaston, Kt., and thirteen others the right to hold a market every Thursday and a fair on November 3rd. Since 1792, both have been discontinued. The commerce of Ellesmere has always primarily been agricultural.
ELLICE (LAGOON) ISLANDS, an archipelago of the Pacific Ocean, lying between 5° and 11° S. and about 178° E., nearly midway between Fiji and Gilbert. It is under British protection, being annexed in 1892. It comprises a large number of low coralline islands and atolls, which are disposed in nine clusters extending over a distance of about 400 m. in the direction from N.W. to S.E. Their total area is 14 sq. m. and the population is about 2400. The chief groups, all yielding coco-nuts, pandanus fruit and yams, are Funafuti or Ellice, Nukulailai or Mitchell, Nurakita or Sophia, Nukufetau or De Peyster, Nui or Egg, Nanomana or Hudson, and Niutao or Lynx. Nearly all the natives are Christians, Protestant missions having been long established in several of the islands. Those of Nui speak the language of the Gilbert islanders, and have a tradition that they came some generations ago from that group. All the others are of Samoan speech, and their tradition that they came thirty generations back from Samoa is supported by recent research. They have an ancient spear which they believe was brought from Samoa, and they actually name the valley from which their ancestors started. A missionary visiting the Samoan valley found there a tradition of a party who put to sea never to return, and he also found the wood of which the staff was made growing plentifully in the district. Borings and soundings taken at Funafuti in 1897 indicate almost beyond doubt that the whole of this Polynesian region is an area of comparatively recent subsidence.
ELLICE (LAGOON) ISLANDS, an archipelago in the Pacific Ocean, lies between 5° and 11° S. and around 178° E., nearly halfway between Fiji and the Gilbert Islands. It has been under British protection since it was annexed in 1892. The islands consist of many low coral islands and atolls arranged in nine clusters that stretch approximately 400 miles from northwest to southeast. Their total area is 14 square miles, and the population is about 2,400. The main groups, all producing coconuts, pandanus fruit, and yams, are Funafuti or Ellice, Nukulailai or Mitchell, Nurakita or Sophia, Nukufetau or De Peyster, Nui or Egg, Nanomana or Hudson, and Niutao or Lynx. Nearly all the locals practice Christianity, as Protestant missions have been established on several of the islands for a long time. The people of Nui speak the language of the Gilbert Islanders and have a tradition that they migrated from that group generations ago. The other islands' inhabitants speak Samoan and believe they came from Samoa thirty generations back, a claim supported by recent research. They possess an ancient spear they believe was brought from Samoa and have even named the valley from which their ancestors departed. A missionary visiting the Samoan valley heard about a group that set out to sea never to return, and he also found the type of wood used to make their staff growing abundantly in the area. Drilling and soundings conducted at Funafuti in 1897 indicate with near certainty that this entire Polynesian region is an area of comparatively recent subsidence.
See Geographical Journal, passim; and Atoll of Funafuti: Borings into a Coral Reef (Report of Coral Reef Committee of Royal Society, London, 1904).
See Geographical Journal, throughout; and Atoll of Funafuti: Borings into a Coral Reef (Report of Coral Reef Committee of Royal Society, London, 1904).
ELLICHPUR, or Illichpur, a town of India in the Amraoti district of Berar. Pop. (1901) 26,082. It is first mentioned authentically in the 13th century as “one of the famous cities of the Deccan.” Though tributary to the Mahommedans after 1294, it remained under Hindu administration till 1318, when it came directly under the Mahommedans. It was afterwards capital of the province of Berar at intervals until the Mogul occupation, when the seat of the provincial governor was moved to Balapur. The town retains many relics of the nawabs of Berar. It has ginning factories and a considerable trade in cotton and forest produce. It is connected by good roads with Amraoti and Chikalda. It was formerly the headquarters of the district of Ellichpur, which had an area of 2605 sq. m. and a population in 1901 of 297,403. This district, however, was merged in that of Amraoti in 1905. The civil station of Paratwada, 2 m. from the town of Ellichpur, contains the principal public buildings.
ELLICHPUR, or Illichpur, is a town in India located in the Amraoti district of Berar. Population (1901) was 26,082. It was first mentioned in historical records in the 13th century as “one of the famous cities of the Deccan.” Although it was under tribute to the Muslims after 1294, it continued to be governed by Hindus until 1318, when it came directly under Muslim control. It later served as the capital of the Berar province at various times until the Mughal occupation, when the provincial governor's seat was moved to Balapur. The town has many artifacts from the nawabs of Berar. It has ginning factories and a significant trade in cotton and forest products. It is well connected by good roads to Amraoti and Chikalda. It was previously the headquarters of the Ellichpur district, which covered an area of 2605 sq. miles and had a population of 297,403 in 1901. However, this district was merged with Amraoti in 1905. The civil station of Paratwada, located 2 miles from Ellichpur, contains the main public buildings.
ELLIOTSON, JOHN (1791-1868), English physician, was born at Southwark, London, on the 29th of October 1791. He studied medicine first at Edinburgh and then at Cambridge, in both which places he took the degree of M.D., and subsequently in London at St Thomas’s and Guy’s hospitals. In 1831 he was elected professor of the principles and practice of physic in London University, and in 1834 he became physician to University College hospital. He was a student of phrenology and mesmerism, and his interest in the latter eventually brought him into collision with the medical committee of the hospital, a circumstance which led him, in December 1838, to resign the offices held by him there and at the university. But he continued the practice of mesmerism, holding séances in his home and editing a magazine, The Zoist, devoted to the subject, and in 1849 he founded a mesmeric hospital. He died in London on the 29th of July 1868. Elliotson was one of the first teachers in London to appreciate the value of clinical lecturing, and one of the earliest among British physicians to advocate the employment of the stethoscope. He wrote a translation of Blumenbach’s Institutiones Physiologicae (1817); Cases of the Hydrocyanic or Prussic Acid (1820); Lectures on Diseases of the Heart (1830); Principles and Practice of Medicine (1839); Human Physiology (1840); and Surgical Operations in the Mesmeric State without Pain (1843). He was the author of numerous papers in the Transactions of the Medico-Chirurgical Society, of which he was at one time president; and he was also a fellow both of the Royal College of Physicians and Royal Society, and founder and president of the Phrenological Society. W.M. Thackeray’s Pendennis was dedicated to him.
ELLIOTSON, JOHN (1791-1868), an English doctor, was born in Southwark, London, on October 29, 1791. He studied medicine first in Edinburgh and then at Cambridge, earning his M.D. degree in both places, and later trained at St Thomas’s and Guy’s hospitals in London. In 1831, he was elected professor of the principles and practice of medicine at London University, and in 1834, he became a physician at University College hospital. He was interested in phrenology and mesmerism, and his growing fascination with the latter eventually led to conflicts with the hospital's medical committee. This resulted in his resignation from his positions there and at the university in December 1838. However, he continued practicing mesmerism, hosting séances at his home and editing a magazine called The Zoist, which focused on the topic. In 1849, he established a mesmerism hospital. He passed away in London on July 29, 1868. Elliotson was one of the first educators in London to recognize the importance of clinical lectures, and he was among the earliest British doctors to promote the use of the stethoscope. He translated Blumenbach’s Institutiones Physiologicae (1817); wrote Cases of the Hydrocyanic or Prussic Acid (1820); Lectures on Diseases of the Heart (1830); Principles and Practice of Medicine (1839); Human Physiology (1840); and Surgical Operations in the Mesmeric State without Pain (1843). He authored many papers in the Transactions of the Medico-Chirurgical Society, where he once served as president, and he was also a fellow of both the Royal College of Physicians and the Royal Society, as well as the founder and president of the Phrenological Society. W.M. Thackeray’s Pendennis was dedicated to him.
ELLIOTT, EBENEZER (1781-1849), English poet, the “corn-law rhymer,” was born at Masborough, near Rotherham, Yorkshire, on the 17th of March 1781. His father, who was an extreme Calvinist and a strong radical, was engaged in the iron trade. Young Ebenezer, although one of a large family, had a solitary and rather morbid childhood. He was sent to various schools, but was generally regarded as a dunce, and when he was sixteen years of age he entered his father’s foundry, working for seven years with no wages beyond a little pocket money. In a fragment of autobiography printed in the Athenaeum (12th of January 1850) he says that he was entirely self-taught, and attributes his poetic development to long country walks undertaken in search of wild flowers, and to a collection of books, including the works of Young, Barrow, Shenstone and Milton, bequeathed to his father by a poor clergyman. At seventeen he wrote his Vernal Walk in imitation of Thomson. His earlier volumes of poems, dealing with romantic themes, received little but unfriendly comment. The faults of Night, the earliest of 292 these, are pointed out in a long and friendly letter (30th of January 1819) from Robert Southey to the author.
ELLIOTT, EBENEZER (1781-1849), English poet, known as the “corn-law rhymer,” was born in Masborough, near Rotherham, Yorkshire, on March 17, 1781. His father, a devout Calvinist and strong radical, worked in the iron trade. Young Ebenezer, despite being part of a large family, had a lonely and somewhat troubled childhood. He attended various schools but was generally seen as slow, and at sixteen, he joined his father’s foundry, working for seven years with only a small amount of pocket money. In a fragment of autobiography published in the Athenaeum (January 12, 1850), he mentions that he was completely self-taught and credits his poetic growth to long walks in the countryside searching for wildflowers and to a collection of books, including works by Young, Barrow, Shenstone, and Milton, which a poor clergyman left to his father. At seventeen, he wrote his Vernal Walk as a tribute to Thomson. His earlier poetry volumes, focused on romantic themes, received mostly unkind criticism. The drawbacks of Night, the first of these, are noted in a lengthy and friendly letter (January 30, 1819) from Robert Southey to the author.
Elliott’s wife brought him some money, which was invested in his father’s share of the iron foundry. But the affairs of the firm were then in a desperate condition, and money difficulties hastened his father’s death. Elliott lost all his money, and when he was forty years old began business again in Sheffield on a small borrowed capital. He attributed his father’s pecuniary losses and his own to the operation of the corn laws. He took an active part in the Chartist agitation, but withdrew his support when the agitation for the repeal of the corn laws was removed from the Chartist programme. The fervour of his political convictions effected a change in the style and tenor of his verse. The Corn-Law Rhymes (3rd ed., 1831), inspired by a fierce hatred of injustice, are vigorous, simple and full of vivid description. In 1833-1835 he published The Splendid Village; Corn-Law Rhymes, and other Poems (3 vols.), which included “The Village Patriarch” (1829), “The Ranter,” an unsuccessful drama, “Keronah,” and other pieces. He contributed verses from time to time to Tait’s Magazine and to the Sheffield and Rotherham Independent. In the meantime he had been successful in business, but he remained the sturdy champion of the poor. In 1837 he again lost a great deal of money. This misfortune was also ascribed to the corn laws. He retired in 1841 with a small fortune and settled at Great Houghton, near Barnsley, where he died on the 1st of December 1849. In 1850 appeared two volumes of More Prose and Verse by the Corn-Law Rhymer. Elliott lives by his determined opposition to the “bread-tax,” as he called it, and his poems on the subject are saved from the common fate of political poetry by their transparent sincerity and passionate earnestness.
Elliott’s wife gave him some money, which he invested in his father's share of the iron foundry. However, the company was in bad shape, and financial troubles contributed to his father's death. Elliott lost all his money, and when he turned forty, he started over in Sheffield with a small amount of borrowed capital. He blamed his father's financial losses and his own on the corn laws. He actively participated in the Chartist movement but withdrew his support once the push for repealing the corn laws was taken off the Chartist agenda. His strong political beliefs changed the style and tone of his poetry. The Corn-Law Rhymes (3rd ed., 1831), fueled by a deep anger toward injustice, are energetic, straightforward, and packed with vivid imagery. Between 1833-1835, he published The Splendid Village; Corn-Law Rhymes, and other Poems (3 vols.), which included “The Village Patriarch” (1829), “The Ranter,” an unsuccessful play, “Keronah,” and other works. He occasionally contributed poems to Tait’s Magazine and the Sheffield and Rotherham Independent. In the meantime, he found success in business, but he remained a staunch advocate for the poor. In 1837, he suffered another significant financial loss, which he also attributed to the corn laws. He retired in 1841 with a modest fortune and settled in Great Houghton, near Barnsley, where he died on December 1, 1849. In 1850, two volumes of More Prose and Verse by the Corn-Law Rhymer were published. Elliott is remembered for his strong opposition to the “bread tax,” as he called it, and his poems on the issue stand out from typical political poetry due to their genuine sincerity and passionate intensity.
An article by Thomas Carlyle in the Edinburgh Review (July 1832) is the best criticism on Elliott. Carlyle was attracted by Elliott’s homely sincerity and genuine power, though he had small opinion of his political philosophy, and lamented his lack of humour and of the sense of proportion. He thought his poetry too imitative, detecting not only the truthful severity of Crabbe, but a “slight bravura dash of the fair tuneful Hemans.” His descriptions of his native county reveal close observation and a vivid perception of natural beauty.
An article by Thomas Carlyle in the Edinburgh Review (July 1832) is the best critique of Elliott. Carlyle was drawn to Elliott’s genuine sincerity and real talent, although he had a low opinion of his political views and lamented his lack of humor and sense of balance. He considered his poetry too derivative, noticing not only the honest severity of Crabbe but also a “slight bravura dash of the fair tuneful Hemans.” His descriptions of his home county show careful observation and a vivid appreciation of natural beauty.
See an obituary notice in the Gentleman’s Magazine (Feb. 1850). Two biographies were published in 1850, one by his son-in-law, John Watkins, and another by “January Searle” (G.S. Phillips). A new edition of his works by his son, Edwin Elliott, appeared in 1876.
See an obituary notice in the Gentleman’s Magazine (Feb. 1850). Two biographies were published in 1850, one by his son-in-law, John Watkins, and another by “January Searle” (G.S. Phillips). A new edition of his works by his son, Edwin Elliott, was released in 1876.
ELLIPSE (adapted from Gr. ἔλλειψις, a deficiency, ἐλλείπειν, to fall behind), in mathematics, a conic section, having the form of a closed oval. It admits of several definitions framed according to the aspect from which the curve is considered. In solido, i.e. as a section of a cone or cylinder, it may be defined, after Menaechmus, as the perpendicular section of an “acute-angled” cone; or, after Apollonius of Perga, as the section of any cone by a plane at a less inclination to the base than a generator; or as an oblique section of a right cylinder. Definitions in plano are generally more useful; of these the most important are: (1) the ellipse is the conic section which has its eccentricity less than unity: this involves the notion of one directrix and one focus; (2) the ellipse is the locus of a point the sum of whose distances from two fixed points is constant: this involves the notion of two foci. Other geometrical definitions are: it is the oblique projection of a circle; the polar reciprocal of a circle for a point within it; and the conic which intersects the line at infinity in two imaginary points. Analytically it is defined by an equation of the second degree of which the highest terms represent two imaginary lines. The curve has important mechanical relations, in particular it is the orbit of a particle moving under the influence of a central force which varies inversely as the square of the distance of the particle; this is the gravitational law of force, and the curve consequently represents the orbits of the planets if only an individual planet and the sun be considered; the other planets, however, disturb this orbit (see Mechanics).
ELLIPSE (adapted from Gr. absence, meaning a deficiency, Missing, to fall behind), is a conic section in mathematics that takes the shape of a closed oval. It can be defined in several ways depending on how the curve is viewed. In solido, meaning as a section of a cone or cylinder, it can be defined, following Menaechmus, as the perpendicular section of an “acute-angled” cone; or, following Apollonius of Perga, as the section made by a plane that is inclined less to the base than a generator; or as an oblique section of a right cylinder. Definitions in plano are usually more practical; the most significant of these are: (1) the ellipse is the conic section that has an eccentricity less than one: this involves the concept of one directrix and one focus; (2) the ellipse is the set of all points where the total distance from two fixed points is constant: this involves the idea of two foci. Other geometric definitions include: it is the oblique projection of a circle; the polar reciprocal of a circle for a point inside it; and the conic that intersects the line at infinity at two imaginary points. Analytically, it is defined by a second-degree equation where the highest terms represent two imaginary lines. The curve has significant mechanical properties; in particular, it represents the orbit of a particle operating under the influence of a central force that inversely varies with the square of the distance from the particle; this is the law of gravitational force, which means the curve symbolizes the orbits of planets when only considering one planet and the sun; however, other planets can disrupt this orbit (see Mechanics).
The relation of the ellipse to the other conic sections is treated in the articles Conic Section and Geometry; in this article a summary of the properties of the curve will be given.
The connection between the ellipse and the other conic sections is discussed in the articles Conic Section and Geometry; in this article, a summary of the curve's properties will be provided.
![]() |
Fig. 1. |
To investigate the form of the curve use may be made of the definition: the ellipse is the locus of a point which moves so that the ratio of its distance from a fixed point (the focus) to its distance from a straight line (the directrix) is constant and is less than unity. This ratio is termed the eccentricity, and will be denoted by e. Let KX (fig. 1) be the directrix, S the focus, and X the foot of the perpendicular from S to KX. If SX be divided at A so that SA/AX = e, then A is a point on the curve. SX may be also divided externally at A′, so that SA′/A′X = e, since e is less than unity; the points A and A′ are the vertices, and the line AA′ the major axis of the curve. It is obvious that the curve is symmetrical about AA′. If AA′ be bisected at C, and the line BCB′ be drawn perpendicular to AA′, then it is readily seen that the curve is symmetrical about this line also; since if we take S′ on AA′ so that S′A′ = SA, and a line K′X′ parallel to KX such that AX = A′X′, then the same curve will be described if we regard K′X′ and S′ as the given directrix and focus, the eccentricity remaining the same. If B and B′ be points on the curve, BB′ is the minor axis and C the centre of the curve.
To explore the shape of the curve, we can use the following definition: an ellipse is the set of points that moves so that the ratio of its distance from a fixed point (the focus) to its distance from a straight line (the directrix) remains constant and is less than one. This ratio is called the eccentricity, denoted by e. Let KX (fig. 1) represent the directrix, S the focus, and X the foot of the perpendicular from S to KX. If we divide SX at A such that SA/AX = e, then A is a point on the curve. We can also divide SX externally at A′, so that SA′/A′X = e, since e is less than one; the points A and A′ are the vertices, and the line AA′ is the major axis of the curve. It's clear that the curve is symmetrical around AA′. If we bisect AA′ at C and draw the line BCB′ perpendicular to AA′, it becomes evident that the curve is also symmetrical about this line; if we take S′ on AA′ so that S′A′ = SA, and a line K′X′ parallel to KX such that AX = A′X′, the same curve will be created if we consider K′X′ and S′ as the given directrix and focus, with the eccentricity remaining unchanged. If B and B′ are points on the curve, BB′ is the minor axis and C is the centre of the curve.
Metrical relations between the axes, eccentricity, distance between the foci, and between these quantities and the co-ordinates of points on the curve (referred to the axes and the centre), and focal distances are readily obtained by the methods of geometrical conics or analytically. The semi-major axis is generally denoted by a, and the semi-minor axis by b, and we have the relation b² = a² (1 − e²). Also a² = CS·CX, i.e. the square on the semi-major axis equals the rectangle contained by the distances of the focus and directrix from the centre; and 2a = SP + S′P, where P is any point on the curve, i.e. the sum of the focal distances of any point on the curve equals the major axis. The most important relation between the co-ordinates of a point on an ellipse is: if N be the foot of the perpendicular from a point P, then the square on PN bears a constant ratio to the product of the segments AN, NA′ of the major axis, this ratio being the square of the ratio of the minor to the major axis; symbolically PN² = AN·NA′ (CB/CA)². From this or otherwise it is readily deduced that the ordinates of an ellipse and of the circle described on the major axis are in the ratio of the minor to the major axis. This circle is termed the auxiliary circle.
Metrical relationships between the axes, eccentricity, distance between the foci, and the connections between these quantities and the coordinates of points on the curve (relative to the axes and the center), along with focal distances, can be easily determined using methods from geometrical conics or through analytical approaches. The semi-major axis is typically represented by a, and the semi-minor axis by b, with the relationship b² = a² (1 − e²) holding true. Additionally, a² = CS·CX, meaning the square of the semi-major axis equals the rectangle formed by the distances from the focus and directrix to the center; and 2a = SP + S′P, where P is any point on the curve, indicating that the sum of the distances from any point on the curve to the foci equals the length of the major axis. The key relation between the coordinates of a point on an ellipse is that if N is the foot of the perpendicular from point P, then the square of PN maintains a constant ratio to the product of the segments AN and NA′ of the major axis, with this ratio being the square of the ratio of the minor to the major axis; symbolically, PN² = AN·NA′ (CB/CA)². From this relation, it's easily derived that the ordinates of an ellipse and the circle drawn on the major axis are in the ratio of the minor to the major axis. This circle is known as the auxiliary circle.
Of the properties of a tangent it may be noticed that the tangent at any point is equally inclined to the focal distances of that point; that the feet of the perpendiculars from the foci on any tangent always lie on the auxiliary circle, and the product of these perpendiculars is constant, and equal to the product of the distances of a focus from the two vertices. From any point without the curve two, and only two, tangents can be drawn; if OP, OP′ be two tangents from O, and S, S′ the foci, then the angles OSP, OSP′ are equal and also SOP, S′OP′. If the tangents be at right angles, then the locus of the point is a circle having the same centre as the ellipse; this is named the director circle.
Of the properties of a tangent, it's worth noting that the tangent at any point is equally inclined to the focal distances of that point. The feet of the perpendiculars from the foci to any tangent always lie on the auxiliary circle, and the product of these perpendiculars is constant, equal to the product of the distances from a focus to the two vertices. From any point outside the curve, two, and only two, tangents can be drawn. If OP and OP′ are two tangents from point O, and S and S′ are the foci, then the angles OSP and OSP′ are equal as are the angles SOP and S′OP′. If the tangents are at right angles, then the locus of that point is a circle with the same center as the ellipse; this is called the director circle.
The middle points of a system of parallel chords is a straight line, and the tangent at the point where this line meets the curve is parallel to the chords. The straight line and the line through the centre parallel to the chords are named conjugate diameters; each bisects the chords parallel to the other. An important metrical property of conjugate diameters is the sum of their squares equals the sum of the squares of the major and minor axis.
The midpoints of a system of parallel chords form a straight line, and the tangent at the point where this line intersects the curve is parallel to the chords. The straight line and the line through the center that is parallel to the chords are called conjugate diameters; each one bisects the chords that are parallel to the other. A key measurement property of conjugate diameters is that the sum of their squares equals the sum of the squares of the major and minor axes.
In analytical geometry, the equation ax² + 2hxy + by² + 2gx + 2fy + c = 0 represents an ellipse when ab > h²; if the centre of the curve be the origin, the equation is a¹x² + 2h¹xy + b¹y² = C¹, and if in addition a pair of conjugate diameters are the axes, the equation is further simplified to Ax² + By² = C. The simplest form is x²/a² + y²/b² = 1, in which the centre is the origin and the major and minor axes the axes of co-ordinates. It is obvious that the co-ordinates of any point on an ellipse may be expressed in terms of a single parameter, the abscissa being a cos φ, and the ordinate b sin φ, since on eliminating φ between x = a cos φ and y = b sin φ we obtain the equation to the ellipse. The angle φ is termed the eccentric angle, and is geometrically represented as the angle between the axis of x (the major axis of the ellipse) and the radius of a point on the auxiliary circle which has the same abscissa as the point on the ellipse.
In analytic geometry, the equation ax² + 2hxy + by² + 2gx + 2fy + c = 0 represents an ellipse when ab > h². If the center of the curve is at the origin, the equation becomes a¹x² + 2h¹xy + b¹y² = C¹. Additionally, if a pair of conjugate diameters serve as the axes, the equation simplifies to Ax² + By² = C. The simplest form is x²/a² + y²/b² = 1, where the center is at the origin and the major and minor axes align with the coordinate axes. It's clear that the coordinates of any point on an ellipse can be expressed using a single parameter, with the x-coordinate being a cos φ and the y-coordinate being b sin φ. By eliminating φ between x = a cos φ and y = b sin φ, we arrive at the equation for the ellipse. The angle φ is referred to as the eccentric angle and is visually represented as the angle between the x-axis (the major axis of the ellipse) and the radius of a point on the auxiliary circle that shares the same x-coordinate as the point on the ellipse.
The equation to the tangent at θ is x cos θ/a + y sin θ/b = 1, and to the normal ax/cos θ − by/sin θ = a² − b².
The equation for the tangent at θ is x cos θ/a + y sin θ/b = 1, and for the normal, it's ax/cos θ − by/sin θ = a² − b².
The area of the ellipse is πab, where a, b are the semi-axes; this result may be deduced by regarding the ellipse as the orthogonal projection of a circle, or by means of the calculus. The perimeter can only be expressed as a series, the analytical evaluation leading to an integral termed elliptic (see Function, ii. Complex). There are several approximation formulae:—S = π(a + b) makes the perimeter about 1/200th too small; s =π√(a² + b²) about 1/200th too great; 2s = π(a + b) + π√(a² + b²) is within 1/30,000 of the truth.
The area of the ellipse is πab, where a and b are the semi-axes. This result can be derived by viewing the ellipse as the orthogonal projection of a circle or through calculus. The perimeter can only be expressed as a series, with analytical evaluation leading to an integral called elliptic (see Function, ii. Complex). There are several approximation formulas: S = π(a + b) makes the perimeter about 1/200th too small; s = π√(a² + b²) is about 1/200th too large; and 2s = π(a + b) + π√(a² + b²) is accurate within 1/30,000 of the actual value.
An ellipse can generally be described to satisfy any five conditions. If five points be given, Pascal’s theorem affords a solution; if five tangents, Brianchon’s theorem is employed. The principle of 293 involution solves such constructions as: given four tangents and one point, three tangents and two points, &c. If a tangent and its point of contact be given, it is only necessary to remember that a double point on the curve is given. A focus or directrix is equal to two conditions; hence such problems as: given a focus and three points; a focus, two points and one tangent; and a focus, one point and two tangents are soluble (very conveniently by employing the principle of reciprocation). Of practical importance are the following constructions:—(1) Given the axes; (2) given the major axis and the foci; (3) given the focus, eccentricity and directrix; (4) to construct an ellipse (approximately) by means of circular arcs.
An ellipse can generally be defined by any five conditions. If five points are provided, Pascal’s theorem offers a solution; if five tangents are available, Brianchon’s theorem comes into play. The principle of 293 involution addresses constructions like: given four tangents and one point, three tangents and two points, etc. If a tangent and its point of contact are given, it's important to remember that a double point on the curve is established. A focus or directrix counts as two conditions; therefore, problems like: given a focus and three points; a focus, two points and one tangent; and a focus, one point and two tangents can be solved (conveniently using the principle of reciprocation). The following constructions are practically important:—(1) Given the axes; (2) given the major axis and the foci; (3) given the focus, eccentricity, and directrix; (4) to construct an ellipse (approximately) using circular arcs.
(1) If the axes be given, we may avail ourselves of several constructions, (a) Let AA′, BB′ be the axes intersecting at right angles in a point C. Take a strip of paper or rule and mark off from a point P, distances Pa and Pb equal respectively to CA and CB. If now the strip be moved so that the point a is always on the minor axis, and the point b on the major axis, the point P describes the ellipse. This is known as the trammel construction.
(1) If the axes are given, we can use several constructions. (a) Let AA′ and BB′ be the axes that intersect at right angles at point C. Take a strip of paper or a ruler and measure off from point P distances Pa and Pb that are equal to CA and CB, respectively. If you now move the strip so that point a is always on the minor axis and point b on the major axis, point P traces out the ellipse. This is known as the trammel construction.
(b) Let AA′, BB′ be the axes as before; describe on each as diameter a circle. Draw any number of radii of the two circles, and from the points of intersection with the major circle draw lines parallel to the minor axis, and from the points of intersection with the minor circle draw lines parallel to the major axis. The intersections of the lines drawn from corresponding points are points on the ellipse.
(b) Let AA′ and BB′ be the axes as before; draw a circle on each axis using the diameter. Draw several radii for both circles, and from the points where they intersect with the larger circle, draw lines parallel to the smaller axis. From the points where they intersect with the smaller circle, draw lines parallel to the larger axis. The intersections of the lines drawn from corresponding points will form points on the ellipse.
(2) If the major axis and foci be given, there is a convenient mechanical construction based on the property that the sum of the focal distances of any point is constant and equal to the major axis. Let AA′ be the axis and S, S′ the foci. Take a piece of thread of length AA′, and fix it at its extremities by means of pins at the foci. The thread is now stretched taut by a pencil, and the pencil moved; the curve traced out is the desired ellipse.
(2) If the major axis and foci are given, there's an easy way to construct it using the fact that the sum of the distances from any point on the curve to the foci is constant and equal to the length of the major axis. Let AA′ be the axis and S, S′ be the foci. Take a piece of thread that is the same length as AA′, and secure its ends with pins on the foci. Now, hold the thread taut with a pencil and move the pencil around; the shape you draw will be the ellipse you're looking for.
![]() |
Fig. 2. |
(3) If the directrix, focus and eccentricity be given, we may employ the general method for constructing a conic. Let S (fig. 2) be the focus, KX the directrix, X being the foot of the perpendicular from S to the directrix. Divide SX internally at A and externally at A′, so that the ratios SA/AX and SA′/A′X are each equal to the eccentricity. Then A, A′ are the vertices of the curve. Take any point R on the directrix, and draw the lines RAM, RSN; draw SL so that the angle LSN = angle NSA′. Let P be the intersection of the line SL with the line RAM, then it can be readily shown that P is a point on the ellipse. For, draw through P a line parallel to AA′, intersecting the directrix in Q and the line RSN in T. Then since XS and QT are parallel and are intersected by the lines RK, RM, RN, we have SA/AX = TP/PQ = SP/PQ, since the angle PST = angle PTS. By varying the position of R other points can be found, and, since the curve is symmetrical about both the major and minor axes, it is obvious that any point may be reflected in both the axes, thus giving 3 additional points.
(3) If the directrix, focus, and eccentricity are given, we can use the general method to construct a conic. Let S (fig. 2) be the focus and KX the directrix, with X being the foot of the perpendicular from S to the directrix. Divide SX internally at A and externally at A′, so that the ratios SA/AX and SA′/A′X are both equal to the eccentricity. Then A and A′ are the vertices of the curve. Take any point R on the directrix and draw the lines RAM and RSN; draw SL so that the angle LSN equals the angle NSA′. Let P be the intersection of the line SL with the line RAM; then it can be easily shown that P is a point on the ellipse. To do this, draw a line through P that is parallel to AA′, intersecting the directrix at Q and the line RSN at T. Since XS and QT are parallel and are intersected by the lines RK, RM, and RN, we have SA/AX = TP/PQ = SP/PQ, since angle PST equals angle PTS. By changing the position of R, we can find other points, and since the curve is symmetrical about both the major and minor axes, it’s clear that any point can be reflected across both axes, thus generating 3 additional points.
(4) If the axes be given, the curve can be approximately constructed by circular arcs in the following manner:—Let AA′, BB′ be the axes; determine D the intersection of lines through B and A parallel to the major and minor axes respectively. Bisect AD at E and join EB. Then the intersection of EB and DB′ determines a point P on the (true) curve. Bisect the chord PB at G, and draw through G a line perpendicular to PB, intersecting BB′ in O. An arc with centre O and radius OB forms part of a curve. Let this arc on the reverse side to P intersect a line through O parallel to the major axis in a point H. Then HA¹ will cut the circular arc in J. Let JO intersect the major axis in O1. Then with centre O1 and radius OJ = OA¹, describe an arc. By reflecting the two arcs thus described over the centre the ellipse is approximately described.
(4) If you have the axes, you can roughly create the curve using circular arcs like this: Let AA′ and BB′ be the axes; find point D where lines drawn through B and A that are parallel to the major and minor axes meet. Bisect AD at E and connect EB. The point where EB and DB′ intersect gives you a point P on the (true) curve. Bisect the line PB at G, and draw a line from G that’s perpendicular to PB, which meets BB′ at O. An arc with center O and radius OB will form part of the curve. Let this arc on the opposite side of P intersect a line through O that’s parallel to the major axis at point H. Then line HA¹ will meet the circular arc at J. Let JO intersect the major axis at O1. Now, with center O1 and radius OJ = OA¹, draw an arc. Reflect the two arcs you've created over the center to get an approximate shape of the ellipse.
ELLIPSOID, a quadric surface whose sections are ellipses. Analytically, it has for its equation x²/a² + y²/b² + z²/c² = 1, a, b, c being its axes; the name is also given to the solid contained by this surface (see Geometry: Analytical). The solids and surfaces of revolution of the ellipse are sometimes termed ellipsoids, but it is advisable to use the name spheroid (q.v.).
ELLIPSOID, a quadric surface whose cross-sections are ellipses. Mathematically, its equation is x²/a² + y²/b² + z²/c² = 1, where a, b, c represent its axes; this term also refers to the solid enclosed by this surface (see Geometry: Analytical). The solids and surfaces formed by rotating an ellipse are sometimes called ellipsoids, but it's better to use the term spheroid (q.v.).
The ellipsoid appears in the mathematical investigation of physical properties of media in which the particular property varies in three directions within the media; such properties are the elasticity, giving rise to the strain ellipsoid, thermal expansion, ellipsoid of expansion, thermal conduction, refractive index (see Crystallography), &c. In mechanics, the ellipsoid of gyration or inertia is such that the perpendicular from the centre to a tangent plane is equal to the radius of gyration of the given body about the perpendicular as axis; the “momental ellipsoid,” also termed the “inverse ellipsoid of inertia” or Poinsot’s ellipsoid, has the perpendicular inversely proportional to the radius of gyration; the “equimomental ellipsoid” is such that its moments of inertia about all axes are the same as those of a given body. (See Mechanics.)
The ellipsoid shows up in the mathematical study of the physical properties of materials where certain properties change in three directions within the material. These properties include elasticity, which leads to the strain ellipsoid, thermal expansion, the ellipsoid of expansion, thermal conduction, and the refractive index (see Crystallography), etc. In mechanics, the ellipsoid of gyration or inertia is defined such that the line from the center to a tangent plane is equal to the radius of gyration of the object around that line. The “momental ellipsoid,” also known as the “inverse ellipsoid of inertia” or Poinsot’s ellipsoid, has the line inversely related to the radius of gyration. The “equimomental ellipsoid” is one where its moments of inertia about all axes are identical to those of a specific body. (See Mechanics.)
ELLIPTICITY, in astronomy, deviation from a circular or spherical form; applied to the elliptic orbits of heavenly bodies, or the spheroidal form of such bodies. (See also Compression.)
ELLIPTICITY, in astronomy, refers to the deviation from a circular or spherical shape; this applies to the elliptical orbits of celestial bodies or the spheroidal shape of those bodies. (See also Compression.)
ELLIS (originally Sharpe), ALEXANDER JOHN (1814-1890), English philologist, mathematician, musician and writer on phonetics, was born at Hoxton on the 14th of June 1814. He was educated at Shrewsbury, Eton, and Trinity College, Cambridge, and took his degree in high mathematical honours. He was connected with many learned societies as member or president, and was governor of University College, London. He was the first in England to reduce the study of phonetics to a science. His most important work, to which the greater part of his life was devoted, is On Early English Pronunciation, with special reference to Shakespeare and Chaucer (1869-1889), in five parts, which he intended to supplement by a sixth, containing an abstract of the whole, an account of the views and criticisms of other inquirers in the same field, and a complete index, but ill-health prevented him from carrying out his intention. He had long been associated with Isaac Pitman in his attempts to reform English spelling, and published A Plea for Phonotypy and Phonography (1845) and A Plea for Phonetic Spelling (1848); and contributed the articles on “Phonetics” and “Speech-sounds” to the 9th edition of the Ency. Brit. He translated (with considerable additions) Helmholtz’s Sensations of Tone as a physiological Basis for the Theory of Music (2nd ed., 1885); and was the author of several smaller works on music, chiefly in connexion with his favourite subject phonetics. He died in London on the 28th of October 1890.
ELLIS (originally Sharpe), ALEXANDER JOHN (1814-1890), English philologist, mathematician, musician, and writer on phonetics, was born in Hoxton on June 14, 1814. He was educated at Shrewsbury, Eton, and Trinity College, Cambridge, where he graduated with high honors in mathematics. He was involved with many scholarly societies as a member or president and served as a governor of University College, London. He was the first in England to establish phonetics as a scientific discipline. His most significant work, to which he dedicated most of his life, is On Early English Pronunciation, with Special Reference to Shakespeare and Chaucer (1869-1889), in five volumes, which he planned to supplement with a sixth volume that would summarize the entire work, discuss the views and critiques of other scholars in the field, and include a complete index, but ill health prevented him from completing this plan. He had long collaborated with Isaac Pitman in efforts to reform English spelling and published A Plea for Phonotypy and Phonography (1845) and A Plea for Phonetic Spelling (1848); he also contributed articles on “Phonetics” and “Speech-sounds” to the 9th edition of the Ency. Brit. He translated (with significant additions) Helmholtz’s Sensations of Tone as a Physiological Basis for the Theory of Music (2nd ed., 1885) and authored several smaller works on music, mainly related to his favorite subject, phonetics. He died in London on October 28, 1890.
ELLIS, GEORGE (1753-1815), English author, was born in London in 1753. Educated at Westminster school and at Trinity College, Cambridge, he began his literary career by some satirical verses on Bath society published in 1777, and Poetical Tales, by “Sir Gregory Gander,” in 1778. He contributed to the Rolliad and the Probationary Odes political satires directed against Pitt’s administration. He was employed in diplomatic business at the Hague in 1784; and in 1797 he accompanied Lord Malmesbury to Lille as secretary to the embassy. On his return he was introduced to Pitt, and the episode of the Rolliad, which had not been forgotten, was explained. He found continued scope for his powers as a political caricaturist in the columns of the Anti-Jacobin, a weekly paper which he founded in connexion with George Canning and William Gifford. For some years before the Anti-Jacobin was started Ellis had been working in the congenial field of Early English literature, in which he was one of the first to arouse interest. The first edition of his Specimens of the Early English Poets appeared in 1790; and this was followed by Specimens of Early English Metrical Romances (1805). He also edited Gregory Lewis Way’s translation of select Fabliaux in 1796. Ellis was an intimate friend of Sir Walter Scott, who styled him “the first converser I ever saw,” and dedicated to him the fifth canto of Marmion. Some of the correspondence between them is to be found in Lockhart’s Life. He died on the 10th of April 1815. The monument erected to his memory in the parish church of Gunning Hill, Berks, bears a fine inscription by Canning.
ELLIS, GEORGE (1753-1815), an English author, was born in London in 1753. He was educated at Westminster School and Trinity College, Cambridge. He kickstarted his literary career with some satirical poems about Bath society published in 1777, and Poetical Tales under the pseudonym “Sir Gregory Gander” in 1778. He contributed to the Rolliad and the Probationary Odes, which were political satires aimed at Pitt’s administration. In 1784, he was involved in diplomatic work at The Hague, and in 1797, he went to Lille as the secretary to Lord Malmesbury’s embassy. On his return, he met Pitt, and they discussed the Rolliad, which hadn’t been forgotten. He continued to showcase his talent as a political caricaturist in the columns of the Anti-Jacobin, a weekly publication he founded alongside George Canning and William Gifford. Before launching the Anti-Jacobin, Ellis had been actively exploring Early English literature, becoming one of the first to spark interest in this area. The first edition of his Specimens of the Early English Poets came out in 1790, followed by Specimens of Early English Metrical Romances in 1805. He also edited Gregory Lewis Way’s translation of select Fabliaux in 1796. Ellis was a close friend of Sir Walter Scott, who referred to him as “the first converser I ever met,” and dedicated the fifth canto of Marmion to him. Some of their correspondence can be found in Lockhart’s Life. He passed away on April 10, 1815. The monument erected in his honor at the parish church of Gunning Hill, Berks, features a beautiful inscription by Canning.
ELLIS, SIR HENRY (1777-1869), English antiquary, was born in London on the 29th of November 1777. He was educated at Merchant Taylors’ school, and at St John’s College, Oxford, of which he was elected a fellow. After having held for a few months a sub-librarianship in the Bodleian, he was in 1800 appointed to a similar post in the British Museum. In 1827 he became chief librarian, and held that post until 1856, when he resigned on account of advancing age. In 1832 William IV. made him a knight of Hanover, and in the following year he received an English knighthood. He died on the 15th of January 1869. Sir Henry Ellis’s life was one of very considerable literary activity. His first work of importance was the preparation of a new edition of Brand’s Popular Antiquities, which appeared in 1813. In 1816 he was selected by the commissioners of public 294 records to write the introduction to Domesday Book, a task which he discharged with much learning, though several of his views have not stood the test of later criticism. His Original Letters Illustrative of English History (first series, 1824; second series, 1827; third series, 1846) are compiled chiefly from manuscripts in the British Museum and the State Paper Office, and have been of considerable service to historical writers. To the Library of Entertaining Knowledge he contributed four volumes on the Elgin and Townley Marbles. Sir Henry was for many years a director and joint-secretary of the Society of Antiquaries.
ELLIS, SIR HENRY (1777-1869), an English antiquarian, was born in London on November 29, 1777. He studied at Merchant Taylors’ School and St John’s College, Oxford, where he was elected a fellow. After briefly serving as a sub-librarian at the Bodleian, he was appointed to a similar position at the British Museum in 1800. In 1827, he became the chief librarian and held that position until 1856, when he resigned due to his advancing age. In 1832, King William IV made him a knight of Hanover, and the following year, he received an English knighthood. He passed away on January 15, 1869. Sir Henry Ellis led a notably active literary life. His first significant work was the new edition of Brand’s Popular Antiquities, published in 1813. In 1816, he was chosen by the commissioners of public records to write the introduction to the Domesday Book, a task he completed with great scholarship, although some of his interpretations have been challenged by later critiques. His Original Letters Illustrative of English History (first series, 1824; second series, 1827; third series, 1846) are mainly based on manuscripts from the British Museum and the State Paper Office, providing considerable assistance to historians. He contributed four volumes on the Elgin and Townley Marbles to the Library of Entertaining Knowledge. For many years, Sir Henry was a director and joint-secretary of the Society of Antiquaries.
ELLIS, ROBINSON (1834- ), English classical scholar, was born at Barming, near Maidstone, on the 5th of September 1834. He was educated at Elizabeth College, Guernsey, Rugby, and Balliol College, Oxford. In 1858 he became fellow of Trinity College, Oxford, and in 1870 professor of Latin at University College, London. In 1876 he returned to Oxford, where from 1883 to 1893 he held the university readership in Latin. In 1893 he succeeded Henry Nettleship as professor. His chief work has been on Catullus, whom he began to study in 1859. His first Commentary on Catullus (1876) aroused great interest, and called forth a flood of criticism. In 1889 appeared a second and enlarged edition, which placed its author in the first rank of authorities on Catullus. Professor Ellis quotes largely from the early Italian commentators, maintaining that the land where the Renaissance originated had done more for scholarship than is commonly recognized. He has supplemented his critical work by a translation (1871, dedicated to Tennyson) of the poems in the metres of the originals. Another author to whom Professor Ellis has devoted many years’ study is Manilius, the astrological poet. In 1891 he published Noctes Manilianae, a series of dissertations on the Astronomica, with emendations. He has also treated Avianus, Velleius Paterculus and the Christian poet Orientius, whom he edited for the Vienna Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum. He edited the Ibis of Ovid, the Aetna of the younger Lucilius, and contributed to the Anecdota Oxoniensia various unedited Bodleian and other manuscripts. In 1907 he published Appendix Vergiliana (an edition of the minor poems); in 1908 The Annalist Licinianus.
ELLIS, ROBINSON (1834- ), English classical scholar, was born in Barming, near Maidstone, on September 5, 1834. He studied at Elizabeth College, Guernsey, Rugby, and Balliol College, Oxford. In 1858, he became a fellow of Trinity College, Oxford, and in 1870, he was appointed professor of Latin at University College, London. In 1876, he returned to Oxford, where he held the university readership in Latin from 1883 to 1893. In 1893, he took over the professorship from Henry Nettleship. His main focus has been on Catullus, whom he began studying in 1859. His first Commentary on Catullus (1876) generated significant interest and prompted a wave of criticism. In 1889, he published a second, expanded edition, which established him as one of the leading authorities on Catullus. Professor Ellis extensively cites early Italian commentators, arguing that the birthplace of the Renaissance contributed more to scholarship than is usually acknowledged. He enhanced his critical work with a translation (1871, dedicated to Tennyson) of the poems in the original meters. Another author he has researched for many years is Manilius, the astrological poet. In 1891, he released Noctes Manilianae, a series of essays on the Astronomica, including revisions. He has also studied Avianus, Velleius Paterculus, and the Christian poet Orientius, whom he edited for the Vienna Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum. He edited Ovid's Ibis, the Aetna of the younger Lucilius, and contributed to the Anecdota Oxoniensia with various unedited Bodleian and other manuscripts. In 1907, he published Appendix Vergiliana (an edition of the minor poems); in 1908, The Annalist Licinianus.
ELLIS, WILLIAM (1794-1872), English Nonconformist missionary, was born in London on the 29th of August 1794. His boyhood and youth were spent at Wisbeach, where he worked as a market-gardener. In 1814 he offered himself to the London Missionary Society, and was accepted. During a year’s training he acquired some knowledge of theology and of various practical arts, such as printing and bookbinding. He sailed for the South Sea Islands in January 1816, and remained in Polynesia, occupying various stations in succession, until 1824, when he was compelled to return home on account of the state of his wife’s health. Though the period of his residence in the islands was thus comparatively short, his labours were very fruitful, contributing perhaps as much as those of any other missionary to bring about the extraordinary improvement in the religious, moral and social condition of the Pacific Archipelago that took place during the 19th century. Besides promoting the spiritual object of his mission, he introduced many other aids to the improvement of the condition of the people. His gardening experience enabled him successfully to acclimatize many species of tropical fruits and plants, and he set up and worked the first printing press in the South Seas. Returning home by way of the United States, where he advocated his work, Ellis was for some years employed as a travelling agent of the London Missionary Society, and in 1832 was appointed foreign secretary to the society, an office which he held for seven years. In 1837 he married his second wife, Sarah Stickney, a writer and teacher of some note in her generation. In 1841 he went to live at Hoddesdon, Herts, and ministered to a small Congregational church there. On behalf of the London Missionary Society he paid three visits to Madagascar (1853-1857), inquiring into the prospects for resuming the work that had been suspended by Queen Ranavolona’s hostility. A further visit was paid in 1863. Ellis wrote accounts of all his travels, and Southey’s praise (in the Quarterly Review) of his Polynesian Researches (2 vols., 1829) finds many echoes. He was a fearless, upright and tactful man, and a keen observer of nature. He died on the 25th of June 1872.
ELLIS, WILLIAM (1794-1872), English Nonconformist missionary, was born in London on August 29, 1794. He spent his childhood and youth in Wisbeach, working as a market gardener. In 1814, he joined the London Missionary Society and was accepted. During a year of training, he gained some knowledge of theology and various practical skills, like printing and bookbinding. He left for the South Sea Islands in January 1816 and stayed in Polynesia, working at different locations until 1824 when he had to return home due to his wife’s health. Although his time in the islands was relatively short, his efforts were highly effective, possibly contributing as much as any other missionary to the significant improvement in the religious, moral, and social conditions of the Pacific Archipelago during the 19th century. In addition to promoting his mission's spiritual goals, he introduced many other resources to enhance the people's situation. His gardening skills allowed him to successfully acclimate many types of tropical fruits and plants, and he established and operated the first printing press in the South Seas. On his way back home through the United States, where he advocated for his work, Ellis worked for several years as a traveling agent for the London Missionary Society, and in 1832, he became the foreign secretary of the society, a position he held for seven years. In 1837, he married his second wife, Sarah Stickney, a well-known writer and teacher of her time. In 1841, he moved to Hoddesdon, Herts, and ministered to a small Congregational church there. On behalf of the London Missionary Society, he made three visits to Madagascar (1853-1857), exploring the possibilities of resuming work that had been halted due to Queen Ranavolona’s hostility. He made another visit in 1863. Ellis documented all his travels, and Southey’s praise (in the Quarterly Review) of his Polynesian Researches (2 vols., 1829) resonates with many echoes. He was a brave, principled, and tactful man, and a keen observer of nature. He passed away on June 25, 1872.
ELLISTON, ROBERT WILLIAM (1774-1831), English actor, was born in London on the 7th of April 1774, the son of a watchmaker. He was educated at St Paul’s school, but ran away from home and made his first appearance on the stage as Tressel in Richard III. at Bath in 1791. Here he was later seen as Romeo, and in other leading parts, both comic and tragic, and he repeated his successes in London from 1796. He acted at Drury Lane from 1804 to 1809, and again from 1812; and from 1819 he was the lessee of the house, presenting Kean, Mme Vestris and Macready. Ill-health and misfortune culminated in his bankruptcy in 1826, when he made his last appearance at Drury Lane as Falstaff. But as lessee of the Surrey theatre he acted almost up to his death, which was hastened by intemperance. Leigh Hunt compared him favourably with Garrick; Byron thought him inimitable in high comedy; Macready praised his versatility. Elliston was the author of The Venetian Outlaw (1805), and, with Francis Godolphin Waldron, of No Prelude (1803), in both of which plays he appeared.
ELLISTON, ROBERT WILLIAM (1774-1831), English actor, was born in London on April 7, 1774, the son of a watchmaker. He was educated at St Paul’s school but ran away from home and made his first appearance on stage as Tressel in Richard III. in Bath in 1791. There, he later performed as Romeo and in other leading roles, both comedic and dramatic, achieving success in London starting in 1796. He acted at Drury Lane from 1804 to 1809 and again from 1812; from 1819, he was the lessee of the venue, showcasing talents like Kean, Mme Vestris, and Macready. Illness and personal misfortune led to his bankruptcy in 1826, after which he made his final appearance at Drury Lane as Falstaff. However, as lessee of the Surrey theatre, he continued to act almost until his death, which was accelerated by excessive drinking. Leigh Hunt compared him favorably to Garrick; Byron thought he was unmatched in high comedy; Macready praised his versatility. Elliston wrote The Venetian Outlaw (1805) and co-wrote No Prelude (1803) with Francis Godolphin Waldron, in both of which plays he appeared.
ELLORA, a village of India in the native state of Hyderabad, near the city of Daulatabad, famous for its rock temples, which are among the finest in India. They are first mentioned by Ma′sudi, the Arabic geographer of the 10th century, but merely as a celebrated place of pilgrimage. The caves differ from those of Ajanta in consequence of their being excavated in the sloping sides of a hill and not in a nearly perpendicular cliff. They extend along the face of the hill for a mile and a quarter, and are divided into three distinct series, the Buddhist, the Brahmanical and the Jain, and are arranged almost chronologically. The most splendid of the whole series is the Kailas, a perfect Dravidian temple, complete in all its parts, characterized by Fergusson as one of the most wonderful and interesting monuments of architectural art in India. It is not a mere interior chamber cut in the rock, but is a model of a complete temple such as might have been erected on the plain. In other words, the rock has been cut away externally as well as internally. First the great sunken court measuring 276 ft. by 154 ft. was hewn out of the solid trap-rock of the hillside, leaving the rock mass of the temple wholly detached in a cloistered court like a colossal boulder, save that a rock bridge once connected the upper storey of the temple with the upper row of galleried chambers surrounding three sides of the court. Colossal elephants and obelisks stand on either side of the open mandapam, or pavilion, containing the sacred bull; and beyond rises the monolithic Dravidian temple to Siva, 90 ft. in height, hollowed into vestibule, chamber and image-cells, all lavishly carved. Time and earthquakes have weathered and broken away bits of the great monument, and Moslem zealots strove to destroy the carved figures, but these defects are hardly noticed. The temple was built by Krishna I., Rashtrakuta, king of Malkhed in 760-783.
ELLORA is a village in India, located in the native state of Hyderabad, near Daulatabad. It's well-known for its rock temples, which are some of the finest in India. The first mention of these temples dates back to the 10th century by Ma′sudi, the Arabic geographer, who referred to it as a famous pilgrimage site. The caves are different from those at Ajanta because they were carved into the sloping sides of a hill rather than a near-vertical cliff. They run along the hillside for about a mile and a quarter and are divided into three distinct groups: Buddhist, Brahmanical, and Jain, arranged almost in chronological order. The most impressive of all is the Kailas, an exquisite Dravidian temple, which Fergusson described as one of the most remarkable and fascinating examples of architectural art in India. It's not just a simple chamber cut into rock; it's a full model of a temple that could have been built on flat land. This means that the rock has been carved away both inside and outside. First, the massive sunken courtyard, which measures 276 ft. by 154 ft., was carved out of the solid trap-rock of the hillside, leaving the temple structure entirely separate in a cloistered area, resembling a gigantic boulder, except for a rock bridge that once connected the upper level of the temple to the upper set of galleried chambers on three sides of the courtyard. Large elephants and obelisks stand on either side of the open mandapam, or pavilion, which houses the sacred bull, and rising beyond it is the monolithic Dravidian temple dedicated to Siva, standing 90 ft. high and hollowed out with a vestibule, chamber, and image-cells, all richly decorated. Over time, weather and earthquakes have eroded and damaged parts of this great monument, and zealots from the Muslim faith attempted to destroy the carvings, but these imperfections are hardly noticeable. The temple was constructed by Krishna I., the Rashtrakuta king of Malkhed, between 760-783.
ELLORE, a town of British India, in the Kistna district of Madras, on the East Coast railway, 303 m. from Madras. Pop. (1901) 33,521. The two canal systems of the Godavari and the Kistna deltas meet here. There are manufactures of cotton and saltpetre, and an important Church of England high school. Ellore was formerly a military station, and the capital of the Northern Circars. At Pedda Vegi to the north of it are extensive ruins, which are believed to be remains of the Buddhist kingdom of Vengi. From these the Mahommedans, after their conquest of the district in 1470, obtained material for building a fort at Ellore.
ELLOR, a town in British India, located in the Kistna district of Madras, on the East Coast railway, 303 km from Madras. Population (1901) 33,521. The two canal systems from the Godavari and Kistna deltas converge here. There are industries for cotton and saltpeter, and an important Church of England high school. Ellore was previously a military station and the capital of the Northern Circars. To the north at Pedda Vegi, there are extensive ruins believed to be remnants of the Buddhist kingdom of Vengi. After conquering the district in 1470, the Muslims used these ruins to source materials for building a fort in Ellore.
ELLSWORTH, OLIVER (1745-1807), American statesman and jurist, was born at Windsor, Connecticut, on the 29th of April 1745. He studied at Yale and Princeton, graduating from the latter in 1766, studied theology for a year, then law, and began to practise at Hartford in 1771. He was state’s attorney for Hartford county from 1777 to 1785, and achieved extraordinary success at the bar, amassing what was for his day a large fortune. From 1773 to 1775 he represented the town of Windsor in the general assembly of Connecticut, and in the latter year became a member of the important commission known as the “Pay Table,” which supervised the colony’s expenditures 295 for military purposes during the War of Independence. In 1779 he again sat in the assembly, this time representing Hartford. From 1777 to 1783 he was a member of the Continental Congress, and in this body he served on three important committees, the marine committee, the board of treasury, and the committee of appeals, the predecessors respectively of the navy and treasury departments and the Supreme Court under the Federal Constitution. From 1780 to 1785 he was a member of the governor’s council of Connecticut, which, with the lower house before 1784 and alone from 1784 to 1807, constituted a supreme court of errors; and from 1785 to 1789 he was a judge of the state superior court. In 1787, with Roger Sherman and William Samuel Johnson (1727-1819), he was one of Connecticut’s delegates to the constitutional convention at Philadelphia, in which his services were numerous and important. In particular, when disagreement seemed inevitable on the question of representation, he, with Roger Sherman, proposed what is known as the “Connecticut Compromise,” by which the Federal legislature was made to consist of two houses, the upper having equal representation from each state, the lower being chosen on the basis of population. Ellsworth also made a determined stand against a national paper currency. Being compelled to leave the convention before its adjournment, he did not sign the instrument, but used his influence to secure its ratification by his native state. From 1789 to 1796 he was one of the first senators from Connecticut under the new Constitution. In the senate he was looked upon as President Washington’s personal spokesman and as the leader of the Administration party. His most important service to his country was without a doubt in connexion with the establishment of the Federal judiciary. As chairman of the committee having the matter in charge, he drafted the bill by the enactment of which the system of Federal courts, almost as it is to-day, was established. He also took a leading part in the senate in securing the passage of laws for funding the national debt, assuming the state debts and establishing a United States bank. It was Ellsworth who suggested to Washington the sending of John Jay to England to negotiate a new treaty with Great Britain, and he probably did more than any other man to induce the senate, despite widespread and violent opposition, to ratify that treaty when negotiated. By President Washington’s appointment he became chief justice of the Supreme Court of the United States in March 1796, and in 1799 President John Adams sent him, with William Vans Murray (1762-1803) and William R. Davie (1756-1820), to negotiate a new treaty with France. It was largely through the influence of Ellsworth, who took the principal part in the negotiations, that Napoleon consented to a convention, of the 30th of September 1800, which secured for citizens of the United States their ships captured by France but not yet condemned as prizes, provided for freedom of commerce between the two nations, stipulated that “free ships shall give a freedom to goods,” and contained provisions favourable to neutral commerce. While he was abroad, failing health compelled him (1800) to resign the chief-justiceship, and after some months in England he returned to America in 1801. In 1803 he was again elected to the governor’s council, and in 1807, on the reorganization of the Connecticut judiciary, was appointed chief justice of the new Supreme Court. He never took office, however, but died at his home in Windsor on the 27th of November 1807.
ELLSWORTH, OLIVER (1745-1807), American statesman and judge, was born in Windsor, Connecticut, on April 29, 1745. He attended Yale and Princeton, graduating from Princeton in 1766. He studied theology for a year, then law, and started practicing in Hartford in 1771. He served as the state's attorney for Hartford County from 1777 to 1785 and achieved remarkable success at the bar, accumulating what was considered a significant fortune for his time. From 1773 to 1775, he represented the town of Windsor in Connecticut's general assembly, and in 1775, he became a member of the vital commission known as the “Pay Table,” which oversaw the colony's spending for military purposes during the War of Independence. In 1779, he returned to the assembly, this time representing Hartford. From 1777 to 1783, he was a member of the Continental Congress, where he served on three important committees: the marine committee, the board of treasury, and the committee of appeals, which were the early forms of the navy and treasury departments and the Supreme Court under the Federal Constitution. From 1780 to 1785, he was a member of the governor’s council of Connecticut, which, along with the lower house before 1784 and on its own from 1784 to 1807, acted as a supreme court of errors. From 1785 to 1789, he was a judge of the state superior court. In 1787, along with Roger Sherman and William Samuel Johnson (1727-1819), he was one of Connecticut’s delegates to the constitutional convention in Philadelphia, where he made numerous significant contributions. Notably, when disagreements threatened over representation, he and Roger Sherman proposed what is known as the “Connecticut Compromise,” which created a Federal legislature with two houses: the upper house having equal representation from each state, and the lower house based on population. Ellsworth also strongly opposed a national paper currency. He had to leave the convention before it concluded, so he did not sign the document but worked to ensure its ratification by Connecticut. From 1789 to 1796, he was one of the first senators from Connecticut under the new Constitution. In the Senate, he was seen as President Washington’s personal representative and leader of the Administration party. His most significant service to his country was undoubtedly related to establishing the Federal judiciary. As chairman of the committee in charge, he drafted the bill that created the Federal court system as it exists today. He also played a key role in securing the passage of laws to fund the national debt, assume state debts, and create a United States bank. Ellsworth suggested sending John Jay to England to negotiate a new treaty with Great Britain, and he likely did more than anyone else to persuade the Senate, despite significant opposition, to ratify that treaty after it was negotiated. Appointed by President Washington, he became chief justice of the Supreme Court of the United States in March 1796, and in 1799, President John Adams sent him, along with William Vans Murray (1762-1803) and William R. Davie (1756-1820), to negotiate a new treaty with France. It was mainly through Ellsworth's influence, as he played a leading role in the negotiations, that Napoleon agreed to the convention on September 30, 1800, which protected U.S. citizens' ships captured by France but not yet condemned, allowed for free trade between the two nations, stated that “free ships shall give a freedom to goods,” and included provisions favorable to neutral trade. While he was abroad, declining health forced him to resign as chief justice in 1800, and after spending some months in England, he returned to America in 1801. In 1803, he was again elected to the governor’s council, and in 1807, following the reorganization of the Connecticut judiciary, he was appointed chief justice of the new Supreme Court. However, he never took office and died at his home in Windsor on November 27, 1807.
See W.G. Brown’s Oliver Ellsworth (New York, 1905), an excellent biography. There is also an appreciative account of Ellsworth’s life and work in H.C. Lodge’s A Fighting Frigate, and Other Essays and Addresses (New York, 1902), which contains in an appendix an interesting letter by Senator George F. Hoar concerning Ellsworth’s work in the constitutional convention.
See W.G. Brown’s Oliver Ellsworth (New York, 1905), which is a great biography. There's also a good overview of Ellsworth’s life and contributions in H.C. Lodge’s A Fighting Frigate, and Other Essays and Addresses (New York, 1902), which includes an interesting letter by Senator George F. Hoar in the appendix about Ellsworth’s role in the constitutional convention.
ELLSWORTH, a city, port of entry and the county seat of Hancock county, Maine, U.S.A., at the head of navigation on the Union river (and about 3¾ m. from its mouth), about 30 m. S.E. of Bangor. Pop. (1890) 4804; (1900) 4297 (189 foreign-born); (1910) 3549. It is served by the Maine Central railway. The fall of the river, about 85 ft. in 2 m., furnishes good water-power, and the city has various manufactures, including lumber, shoes, woollens, sails, carriages and foundry and machine shop products, besides a large lumber trade. Shipbuilding was formerly important. There is a large United States fish hatchery here. The city is the port of entry for the Frenchman’s Bay customs district, but its foreign trade is unimportant. Ellsworth was first settled in 1763 and for some time was called New Bowdoin; but when it was incorporated as a town in 1800 the present name was adopted in honour of Oliver Ellsworth. A city charter was secured in 1869.
ELLSWORTH, a city, port of entry, and the county seat of Hancock County, Maine, U.S.A., is located at the head of navigation on the Union River (about 3¾ miles from its mouth), approximately 30 miles southeast of Bangor. Population: (1890) 4,804; (1900) 4,297 (189 foreign-born); (1910) 3,549. It is served by the Maine Central Railway. The river drops about 85 feet over 2 miles, providing good water power, and the city has various manufacturing sectors, including lumber, shoes, woolen goods, sails, carriages, and foundry and machine shop products, alongside a substantial lumber trade. Shipbuilding was once significant here. There's a large U.S. fish hatchery located in the city. Ellsworth serves as the port of entry for the Frenchman's Bay customs district, but its foreign trade is minimal. The city was first settled in 1763 and was initially called New Bowdoin; however, when it was incorporated as a town in 1800, it adopted its current name in honor of Oliver Ellsworth. A city charter was granted in 1869.
ELLWANGEN, a town of Germany in the kingdom of Württemberg, on the Jagst, 12 m. S.S.E. from Crailsheim on the railway to Goldshöfe. Pop. 5000. It is romantically situated between two hills, one crowned by the castle of Hohen-Ellwangen, built in 1354 and now used as an agricultural college, and the other, the Schönenberg, by the pilgrimage church of Our Lady of Loreto, in the Jesuit style of architecture. The town possesses one Evangelical and five Roman Catholic churches, among the latter the Stiftskirche, the old abbey church, a Romanesque building dating from 1124, and the Gothic St Wolfgangskirche. The classical and modern schools (Gymnasium and Realschule) occupy the buildings of a suppressed Jesuit college. The industries include the making of parchment covers, of envelopes, of wooden hafts and handles for tools, &c., and tanneries. There are also a wool-market and a horse-market, the latter famous in Germany.
ELLWANGEN is a town in Germany located in the kingdom of Württemberg, along the Jagst River, 12 miles S.S.E. of Crailsheim on the railway to Goldshöfe. The population is about 5,000. It's beautifully positioned between two hills, with one hill topped by the Hohen-Ellwangen Castle, built in 1354 and now serving as an agricultural college, and the other, Schönenberg, featuring the pilgrimage church of Our Lady of Loreto, designed in the Jesuit architectural style. The town has one Evangelical church and five Roman Catholic churches, including the Stiftskirche, the old abbey church, which is a Romanesque building dating back to 1124, and the Gothic St. Wolfgangskirche. The classical and modern schools (Gymnasium and Realschule) are housed in the buildings of a former Jesuit college. Local industries include producing parchment covers, envelopes, wooden handles for tools, and tanneries. Additionally, there is a wool market and a horse market, the latter being well-known throughout Germany.
The Benedictine abbey of Ellwangen is said to have been founded in 764 by Herulf, bishop of Langres; there is, however, no record of it before 814. In 1460 the abbey was converted, with the consent of Pope Pius II., into a Ritterstift (college or institution for noble pensioners) under a secular provost, who, in 1555, was raised to the dignity of a prince of the Empire. The provostship was secularized in 1803 and its territories were assigned to Württemberg. The town of Ellwangen, which grew up round the abbey and received the status of a town about the middle of the 14th century, was until 1803 the capital of the provostship.
The Benedictine abbey of Ellwangen is believed to have been founded in 764 by Herulf, the bishop of Langres; however, there are no records of it before 814. In 1460, the abbey was transformed, with the approval of Pope Pius II, into a Ritterstift (a college or institution for noble pensioners) under a secular provost, who was elevated to the rank of prince of the Empire in 1555. The provostship was secularized in 1803, and its territories were given to Württemberg. The town of Ellwangen, which developed around the abbey and became a town around the mid-14th century, served as the capital of the provostship until 1803.
See Seckler, Beschreibung der gefürsteten Probstei Ellwangen (Stuttgart, 1864); Beschreibung des Oberamts Ellwangen, published by the statistical bureau (Landesamt) at Ellwangen (1888). For a list of the abbots and provosts see Stokvis, Manuel d’histoire (Leiden, 1890-1893), iii. p. 242.
See Seckler, Beschreibung der gefürsteten Probstei Ellwangen (Stuttgart, 1864); Beschreibung des Oberamts Ellwangen, published by the statistical bureau (Landesamt) at Ellwangen (1888). For a list of the abbots and provosts see Stokvis, Manuel d’histoire (Leiden, 1890-1893), iii. p. 242.
ELLWOOD, THOMAS (1639-1714), English author, was born at Crowell, in Oxfordshire, in 1639. He is chiefly celebrated for his connexion with Milton, and the principal facts of his life are related in a very interesting autobiography, which contains much information as to his intercourse with the poet. While he was still young his father removed to London, where Thomas became acquainted with a Quaker family named Pennington, and was led to join the Society of Friends, a connexion which subjected him to much persecution. It was through the Penningtons that he was introduced in 1662 to Milton in the capacity of Latin reader. He spent nearly every afternoon in the poet’s house in Jewin Street, until the intercourse was interrupted by an illness which compelled him to go to the country. After a period of imprisonment in the old Bridewell prison and in Newgate for Quakerism, Ellwood resumed his visits to Milton, who was now residing at a house his friend had taken for him at Chalfont St Giles. In 1665 Ellwood was again arrested and imprisoned in Aylesbury gaol. When he visited Milton after his release the poet gave him the manuscript of the Paradise Lost to read. On returning the manuscript Ellwood said, “Thou hast said much here of Paradise lost; but what hast thou to say of Paradise found?” and when Milton long afterwards in London showed him Paradise Regained, it was with the remark, “This is owing to you, for you put it into my head at Chalfont.” Ellwood was the friend of Fox and Penn, and was the author of several polemical works in defence of the Quaker position, of which Forgery no Christianity (1674) and The Foundation of Tithes Shaken (1678) deserve mention. His Sacred Histories of the Old and New Testaments appeared in 1705 and 1709. He also published some volumes of poems, among them a Davideis in five books. He died on the 1st of March 1714.
ELLWOOD, THOMAS (1639-1714), English author, was born in Crowell, Oxfordshire, in 1639. He is mainly known for his association with Milton, and the key events of his life are detailed in a captivating autobiography that offers much insight into his relationship with the poet. When he was still young, his father moved to London, where Thomas met a Quaker family named Pennington and was inspired to join the Society of Friends, a decision that led to significant persecution. It was through the Penningtons that he met Milton in 1662, where he served as a Latin reader. He spent almost every afternoon at the poet's house on Jewin Street, until his visits were interrupted by an illness that required him to go to the countryside. After spending time in the old Bridewell prison and Newgate due to his Quaker beliefs, Ellwood resumed his visits to Milton, who had moved to a house his friend had secured for him in Chalfont St Giles. In 1665, Ellwood was arrested again and imprisoned in Aylesbury gaol. When he visited Milton after his release, the poet entrusted him with the manuscript of Paradise Lost to read. Upon returning it, Ellwood remarked, “You’ve said a lot about Paradise lost; but what do you have to say about Paradise found?” Later, when Milton showed him Paradise Regained in London, he commented, “This is thanks to you, because you inspired it in my mind at Chalfont.” Ellwood was friends with Fox and Penn and authored several works defending the Quaker position, including Forgery no Christianity (1674) and The Foundation of Tithes Shaken (1678), which are particularly notable. His Sacred Histories of the Old and New Testaments was published in 1705 and 1709. He also released several volumes of poetry, including a five-book work titled Davideis. He passed away on March 1, 1714.
The History of the Life of Thomas Ellwood: written by his own hand (1714) has been many times reprinted.
The History of the Life of Thomas Ellwood: written by his own hand (1714) has been reprinted many times.
ELM, the popular name for the trees and shrubs constituting the genus Ulmus, of the natural order Ulmaceae. The genus contains fifteen or sixteen species widely distributed throughout the north temperate zone, with the exception of western North America, and extending southwards as far as Mexico in the New and the Sikkim Himalayas in the Old World.
ELM refers to the trees and shrubs that make up the genus Ulmus, which belongs to the natural family Ulmaceae. This genus includes fifteen or sixteen species found across the northern temperate zone, except for western North America, and ranges south to Mexico in the New World and the Sikkim Himalayas in the Old World.
The common elm, U. campestris, a doubtful native of England, is found throughout a great part of Europe, in North Africa and in Asia Minor, whence it ranges as far east as north Asia and Japan. It grows in woods and hedge-rows, especially in the southern portion of Britain, and on almost all soils, but thrives best on a rich loam, in open, low-lying, moderately moist situations, attaining a height of 60 to 100, and in some few cases as much as 130 or 150 ft. The branches are numerous and spreading, and often pendulous at the extremities; the bark is rugged; the leaves are alternate, ovate, rough, doubly serrate, and, as in other species of Ulmus, unequal at the base. The flowers are small, hermaphrodite, numerous, in purplish-brown tufts, and each with a fringed basal bract; the bell-shaped calyx is often four-toothed and surrounds four free stamens; the pistil bears two spreading hairy styles. They appear before the leaves in March and April. The seed-vessels are green, membranous, one-seeded and deeply cleft. Unlike the wych elm, the common elm rarely perfects its seed in England, where it is propagated by means of root suckers from old trees, or preferably by layers from stools. In the first ten years of its growth it ordinarily reaches a height of 25 to 30 ft. The wood, at first brownish white, becomes, with growth, of a brown colour having a greenish shade. It is close-grained, free from knots, without apparent medullary rays, and is hard and tough, but will not take a polish. All parts of the trunk, including the sapwood, are available in carpentry. By drying, the wood loses over 60% of its weight, and has then a specific gravity of 0.588. It has considerable transverse strength, does not crack when once seasoned, and is remarkably durable under water, or if kept quite dry; though it decays rapidly on exposure to the weather, which in ten to eighteen months causes the bark to fall off, and gives to the wood a yellowish colour—a sign of deterioration in quality. To prevent shrinking and warping it may be preserved in water or mud, but it is best worked up soon after felling. Analyses of the ash of the wood have given a percentage of 47.8% of lime, 21.9% of potash, and 13.7% of soda. In summer, elm trees often exude an alkaline gummy substance, which by the action of the air becomes the brown insoluble body termed ulmin. Elm wood is used for keels and bilge-planks, the blocks and dead-eyes of rigging, and ships’ pumps, for coffins, wheels, furniture, carved and turned articles, and for general carpenters’ work; and previous to the common employment of cast iron was much in request for waterpipes. The inner bark of the elm is made into bast mats and ropes. It contains mucilage, with a little tannic acid, and was formerly much employed for the preparation of an antiscorbutic decoction, now obsolete. The bark of Ulmus fulva, the slippery or red elm of the United States and Canada, serves the North American Indians for the same purpose, and also as a vulnerary. The leaves as well as the young shoots of elms have been found a suitable food for live stock. For ornamental purposes elm trees are frequently planted, and in avenues, as at the park of Stratfieldsaye, in Hampshire, are highly effective. They were first used in France for the adornment of public walks in the reign of Francis I. In Italy, as in ancient times, it is still customary to train the vine upon the elm—a practice to which frequent allusion has been made by the poets. The cork-barked elm, U. campestris, var. suberosa, is distinguished chiefly by the thick deeply fissured bark with which its branches are covered. There are numerous cultivated forms differing in size and shape of leaf, and manner of growth.
The common elm, U. campestris, which may or may not be native to England, is found across much of Europe, North Africa, and Asia Minor, extending as far east as northern Asia and Japan. It grows in woods and hedgerows, particularly in southern Britain, and thrives on almost all soil types, but does best in rich loam, in open, low-lying, and moderately moist areas, reaching heights of 60 to 100 feet, and in some rare cases up to 130 or 150 feet. The branches are numerous and spread out, often drooping at the tips; the bark is rough; the leaves are alternate, oval-shaped, rough, doubly serrated, and, like other species of Ulmus, uneven at the base. The flowers are small, hermaphrodite, numerous, in purplish-brown clusters, each with a fringed base bract; the bell-shaped calyx often has four teeth and surrounds four free stamens; the pistil features two hairy styles that spread out. They bloom before the leaves in March and April. The seed vessels are green, membranous, one-seeded, and deeply split. Unlike the wych elm, the common elm rarely produces seeds in England, where it spreads through root suckers from older trees or, preferably, by layering from stools. In its first ten years, it typically reaches a height of 25 to 30 feet. The wood starts off brownish-white and, as it matures, turns a brown color with a greenish tint. It is dense, knot-free, has no visible medullary rays, and is hard and tough, but cannot be polished. All parts of the trunk, including the sapwood, are useful in carpentry. When dried, the wood loses over 60% of its weight and has a specific gravity of 0.588. It has strong transverse strength, does not crack once seasoned, and is very durable when submerged in water or kept completely dry; however, it decays quickly when exposed to the elements, with the bark falling off in ten to eighteen months and giving the wood a yellowish color, indicating a decline in quality. To avoid shrinking and warping, it can be preserved in water or mud, but it’s best to process it soon after cutting. Analyses of the ash from the wood have shown a composition of 47.8% lime, 21.9% potash, and 13.7% soda. In summer, elm trees often release an alkaline, gummy substance that, when exposed to air, becomes a brown, insoluble material called ulmin. Elm wood is used for keels and bilge planks, rigging blocks and dead-eyes, ship pumps, coffins, wheels, furniture, carved and turned items, and for general carpentry work; before cast iron became common, it was highly sought after for water pipes. The inner bark of the elm is made into bast mats and ropes. It contains mucilage and some tannic acid, and was historically used to prepare an antiscorbutic decoction, which is now outdated. The bark of Ulmus fulva, the slippery or red elm of the United States and Canada, is used by North American Indians for the same purpose, as well as a remedy for wounds. The leaves and young shoots of elms have been found suitable for livestock feed. Elm trees are often planted for ornamental purposes and look particularly striking in avenues, such as in the park at Stratfieldsaye, Hampshire. They were first used in France to beautify public walkways during the reign of Francis I. In Italy, as in ancient times, it is still customary to train vines on elm trees—a practice frequently referenced by poets. The cork-barked elm, U. campestris, var. suberosa, is mainly identified by its thick, deeply fissured bark covering its branches. There are many cultivated varieties that differ in leaf size and shape, as well as growth habits.
The Scotch or wych elm, U. montana, is indigenous to Britain and is the common elm of the northern portion of the island; it usually attains a height of about 50 ft., but among tall-growing trees may reach 120 ft. It has drooping branches and a smoother and thinner bark, larger and more tapering leaves, and a far less deeply notched seed-vessel than U. campestris. The wood, though more porous than in that species, is a tough and hard material when properly seasoned, and, being very flexible when steamed, is well adapted for boat-building. Branches of the wych elm were formerly manufactured into bows, and if forked were employed as divining-rods. The weeping elm, the most ornamental member of the genus, is a variety of this species. The Dutch or sand elm is a tree very similar to the wych elm, but produces inferior timber. The American or white elm, U. americana, is a hardy and very handsome species, of which the old tree on Boston (Mass.) Common was a representative. This tree is supposed to have been in existence before the settlement of Boston, and at the time of its destruction by the storm of the 15th of February 1876 measured 22 ft. in circumference.
The Scotch or wych elm, U. montana, is native to Britain and is the common elm found in the northern part of the island. It usually grows to about 50 ft. tall, but in areas with taller trees, it can reach up to 120 ft. It has drooping branches, smoother and thinner bark, larger and more tapered leaves, and a seed vessel that is less deeply notched compared to U. campestris. The wood, while more porous than that species, is strong and hard when properly seasoned, and is very flexible when steamed, making it great for boat-building. Branches of the wych elm were once used to make bows, and if they were forked, they were used as divining rods. The weeping elm, the most ornamental type of this genus, is a variety of this species. The Dutch or sand elm is quite similar to the wych elm but produces lower quality wood. The American or white elm, U. americana, is a robust and attractive species, exemplified by the old tree in Boston (Mass.) Common. This tree is believed to have existed before Boston was settled, and when it was destroyed by the storm on February 15, 1876, it measured 22 ft. in circumference.
ELMACIN (Elmakin or Elmacinus), GEORGE (c. 1223-1274), author of a history of the Saracens, which extends from the time of Mahomet to the year 1118 of our era. He was a Christian of Egypt, where he was born; is known in the east as Ibn-Amid; and after holding an official position under the sultans of Egypt, died at Damascus. His history is principally occupied with the affairs of the Saracen empire, but it contains passages which relate to the Eastern Christians. It was published in Arabic and Latin at Leiden in 1625. The Latin version is a translation by Erpenius, under the title, Historia saracenica, and from this a French translation was made by Wattier as L’Histoire mahométane (Paris, 1657).
ELMACIN (Elmakin or Elmacinus), GEORGE (c. 1223-1274), author of a history of the Saracens that covers the period from the time of Mahomet to the year 1118 of our era. He was a Christian born in Egypt, known in the East as Ibn-Amid. After working in an official role under the sultans of Egypt, he died in Damascus. His history mainly focuses on the events of the Saracen empire but also includes sections about the Eastern Christians. It was published in Arabic and Latin in Leiden in 1625. The Latin version is a translation by Erpenius titled Historia saracenica, and from this, a French translation was created by Wattier as L’Histoire mahométane (Paris, 1657).
ELMALI (“apple-town”), a small town of Asia Minor in the vilayet of Konia, the present administrative centre of the ancient Lycia, but not itself corresponding to any known ancient city. It lies about 25 m. inland, at the head of a long upland valley (5000 ft.) inhabited by direct descendants of the ancient Lycians, who have preserved a distinctive facial type, noticeable at once in the town population. There are about fifty Greek families, the rest of the population (4000) being Moslem. The district is agricultural and has no manufactures of importance.
ELMALI (“apple-town”), a small town in Asia Minor in the Konia province, which is now the administrative center of the ancient Lycia, but it doesn’t match any known ancient city. It’s located about 25 miles inland, at the top of a long upland valley (5000 ft.) inhabited by direct descendants of the ancient Lycians, who have maintained a distinct facial appearance that is immediately noticeable in the town's population. There are around fifty Greek families, while the rest of the population (4000) is Muslim. The area is agricultural and has no significant manufacturing.
ELMES, HARVEY LONSDALE (1813-1847), British architect, son of James Elmes (q.v.), was born at Chichester in 1813. After serving some time in his father’s office, and under a surveyor at Bedford and an architect at Bath, he became partner with his father in 1835, and in the following year he was successful among 86 competitors for a design for St George’s Hall, Liverpool. The foundation stone of this building was laid en the 28th of June 1838, but, Elmes being successful in a competition for the Assize Courts in the same city, it was finally decided to include the hall and courts in a single building. In accordance with this idea, Elmes prepared a fresh design, and the work of erection commenced in 1841. He superintended its progress till 1847, when from failing health he was compelled to delegate his duties to Charles Robert Cockerell, and leave for Jamaica, where he died of consumption on the 26th of November 1847.
ELMES, HARVEY LONSDALE (1813-1847), British architect, son of James Elmes (q.v.), was born in Chichester in 1813. After spending some time in his father’s office, and working under a surveyor in Bedford and an architect in Bath, he became a partner with his father in 1835. The following year, he won a competition with 86 other entrants for a design for St George’s Hall in Liverpool. The foundation stone for this building was laid on June 28, 1838, but after Elmes won a competition for the Assize Courts in the same city, it was decided to combine the hall and courts into a single building. Following this concept, Elmes created a new design, and construction began in 1841. He oversaw the project's progress until 1847, when he had to pass his responsibilities to Charles Robert Cockerell due to declining health and traveled to Jamaica, where he died of tuberculosis on November 26, 1847.
ELMES, JAMES (1782-1862), British architect, civil engineer, and writer on the arts, was born in London on the 15th of October 1782. He was educated at Merchant Taylors’ school, and, after studying building under his father, and architecture under George Gibson, became a student at the Royal Academy, where he gained the silver medal in 1804. He designed a large number of buildings in the metropolis, and was surveyor and civil engineer to the port of London, but is best known as a writer on the arts. In 1809 he became vice-president of the Royal Architectural Society, but this office, as well as that of surveyor of the port of London, he was compelled through partial loss of sight to resign in 1828. He died at Greenwich on the 2nd of April 1862. His publications were:—Sir Christopher Wren and his Times (1823); Lectures on Architecture (1823); The Arts and Artists (1825); General and Biographical Dictionary of the Fine Arts (1826); Treatise on Architectural Jurisprudence (1827), and Thomas Clarkson: a Monograph (1854).
ELMES, JAMES (1782-1862), British architect, civil engineer, and writer on the arts, was born in London on October 15, 1782. He attended Merchant Taylors’ School and, after learning about building from his father and studying architecture with George Gibson, became a student at the Royal Academy, where he won the silver medal in 1804. He designed many buildings in the city and served as a surveyor and civil engineer for the Port of London, but he is best known as a writer on the arts. In 1809, he became the vice-president of the Royal Architectural Society, but he had to resign from this position, as well as from his role as surveyor for the Port of London, due to partial loss of sight in 1828. He passed away in Greenwich on April 2, 1862. His publications include: Sir Christopher Wren and his Times (1823); Lectures on Architecture (1823); The Arts and Artists (1825); General and Biographical Dictionary of the Fine Arts (1826); Treatise on Architectural Jurisprudence (1827), and Thomas Clarkson: a Monograph (1854).
ELMHAM, THOMAS (d. c. 1420), English chronicler, was probably born at North Elmham in Norfolk. He became a Benedictine monk at Canterbury, and then joining the Cluniacs, was prior of Lenton Abbey, near Nottingham; he was chaplain to Henry V., whom he accompanied to France in 1415, being present at Agincourt. Elmham wrote a history of the monastery 297 of St Augustine at Canterbury, which has been edited by C. Hardwick for the Rolls Series (1858); and a Liber metricus de Henrico V., edited by C.A. Cole in the Memorials of Henry V. (1858). It is very probable that Elmham wrote the famous Gesta Henrici Quinti, which is the best authority for the life of Henry V. from his accession to 1416. This work, often referred to as the “chaplain’s life,” and thought by some to have been written by Jean de Bordin, has been published for the English Historical Society by B. Williams (1850). Elmham, however, did not write the Vita et Gesta Henrici V., which was attributed to him by T. Hearne and others.
ELMHAM, THOMAS (d. c. 1420), was an English chronicler who was likely born in North Elmham, Norfolk. He became a Benedictine monk in Canterbury and later joined the Cluniac order, serving as the prior of Lenton Abbey near Nottingham. He was also the chaplain to Henry V, accompanying him to France in 1415 and being present at the Battle of Agincourt. Elmham wrote a history of the monastery of St Augustine in Canterbury, which C. Hardwick edited for the Rolls Series in 1858, and a Liber metricus de Henrico V., edited by C.A. Cole in the Memorials of Henry V. (1858). It is highly likely that Elmham wrote the famous Gesta Henrici Quinti, which is the most reliable account of Henry V's life from his accession until 1416. This work, often called the “chaplain’s life” and thought by some to have been written by Jean de Bordin, was published for the English Historical Society by B. Williams in 1850. However, Elmham did not write the Vita et Gesta Henrici V., which has been incorrectly attributed to him by T. Hearne and others.
See C.L. Kingsford, Henry V. (1901).
See C.L. Kingsford, *Henry V.* (1901).
ELMINA, a town on the Gold Coast, British West Africa, in 5° 4′ N., 1° 20′ W. and about 8 m. W. of Cape Coast. Pop. about 4000. Facing the Atlantic on a rocky peninsula is Fort St George, considered the finest fort on the Guinea coast. It is built square with high walls, and has accommodation for 200 soldiers. On the land side were formerly two moats, cut in the rock on which the castle stands. The castle is the residence of the commissioner of the district and other officials. The houses in the native quarter are mostly built of stone, that material being plentiful in the vicinity.
ELMINA is a town located on the Gold Coast of British West Africa, at 5° 4′ N, 1° 20′ W, approximately 8 miles west of Cape Coast. Its population is around 4,000. Facing the Atlantic, Fort St. George sits on a rocky peninsula and is regarded as the finest fort along the Guinea coast. The fort is constructed in a square shape with high walls and can house 200 soldiers. There were once two moats on the land side, carved from the rock beneath the castle. The castle serves as the residence for the district commissioner and other officials. In the native quarter, most houses are made of stone, as that material is abundant in the area.
Elmina is the earliest European settlement on the Gold Coast, and was visited by the Portuguese in 1481. Christopher Columbus is believed to have been one of the officers who took part in this voyage. The Portuguese at once began to build the castle now known as Fort St George, but it was not completed till eighty years afterwards. Another defensive work is Fort St Jago, built in 1666, which is behind the town and at some distance from the coast. (In the latter half of the 19th century it was converted into a prison.) Elmina was captured by the Dutch in 1637, and ceded to them by treaty in 1640. They made it the chief port for the produce of Ashanti. With the other Dutch possessions on the Guinea coast, it was transferred to Great Britain in April 1872. The king of Ashanti, claiming to be ground landlord, objected to its transfer, and the result was the Ashanti war of 1873-1874. For many years the greatest output of gold from this coast came from Elmina. The annual export is said to have been nearly £3,000,000 in the early years of the 18th century, but the figure is probably exaggerated. Since 1900 the bulk of the export trade in gold has been transferred to Sekondi (q.v.). Prempeh, the ex-king of Ashanti, was detained in the castle (1896) until his removal to the Seychelles. (See Ashanti: History, and Gold Coast: History.)
Elmina is the first European settlement on the Gold Coast and was visited by the Portuguese in 1481. Christopher Columbus is thought to have been one of the officers on this voyage. The Portuguese immediately started building the castle now known as Fort St. George, but it wasn’t finished until eighty years later. Another defensive structure is Fort St. Jago, built in 1666, which is located behind the town and a bit inland from the coast. (In the latter half of the 19th century, it was turned into a prison.) Elmina was captured by the Dutch in 1637 and officially ceded to them by treaty in 1640. They made it the main port for goods from Ashanti. Along with the other Dutch territories on the Guinea coast, it was handed over to Great Britain in April 1872. The king of Ashanti, claiming to be the rightful landlord, opposed this transfer, leading to the Ashanti War of 1873-1874. For many years, the highest gold output from this coast came from Elmina. It’s said that the annual export was nearly £3,000,000 in the early 18th century, although that figure is likely exaggerated. Since 1900, most of the gold export trade has moved to Sekondi (q.v.). Prempeh, the former king of Ashanti, was held in the castle (1896) until he was moved to the Seychelles. (See Ashanti: History, and Gold Coast: History.)
ELMIRA, a city and the county-seat of Chemung county, New York, U.S.A., 100 m. S.E. of Rochester, on the Chemung river, about 850 ft. above sea-level. Pop. (1890) 30,893; (1900) 35,672, of whom 5511 were foreign-born (1988 Irish and 1208 German); (1910 census) 37,176. It is served by the Erie, the Pennsylvania, the Delaware, Lackawanna & Western, the Lehigh Valley, and the Tioga Division railways, the last of which connects it with the Pennsylvania coalfields 48 m. away. The city is attractively situated on both sides of the river, and has a fine water-supply and park system, among the parks being Eldridge, Rorick’s Glen, Riverside, Brand, Diven, Grove, Maple Avenue and Wisner; in the last-named is a statue of Thomas K. Beecher by J.S. Hartley. The city contains a Federal building, a state armoury, the Chemung county court house and other county buildings, the Elmira orphans’ home, the Steele memorial library, home for the aged, the Arnot-Ogden memorial hospital, the Elmira free academy, and the Railway Commercial training school. Here, also, is Elmira College (Presbyterian) for women, founded in 1855. This institution, chartered in 1852 as Auburn Female University and then situated in Auburn, was rechartered in 1855 as the Elmira Female College; it was established largely through the influence and persistent efforts of the Rev. Samuel Robbins Brown (1810-1880) and his associates, notably Simeon Benjamin of Elmira, who gave generously to the newly founded college, and was the first distinctively collegiate institution for women in the United States, and the first, apparently, to grant degrees to women. The most widely known institution in the city is the Elmira reformatory, a state prison for first offenders between the ages of sixteen and thirty, on a system of general indeterminate sentences. Authorized by the state legislature in 1866 and opened in 1876 under the direction of Zebulon Reed Brockway (b. 1827), it was the first institution of the sort and has served as a model for many similar institutions both in the United States and in other countries (see Juvenile Offenders). Elmira is an important railway centre, with large repair shops, and has also extensive manufactories (value of production in 1900, $8,558,786, of which $6,596,603 was produced under the “factory system”; in 1905, under the “factory system,” $6,984,095), including boot and shoe factories, a large factory for fire-extinguishing apparatus, iron and steel bridge works, steel rolling mills, large valve works, steel plate mills, knitting mills, furniture, glass and boiler factories, breweries and silk mills. Near the site of Elmira occurred on the 29th of August 1779 the battle of Newtown, in which General John Sullivan decisively defeated a force of Indians and Tories under Sir John Johnson and Joseph Brant. There were some settlers here at the close of the War of Independence, but no permanent settlement was made until 1788. The village was incorporated as Newtown in 1815, and was reincorporated as Elmira in 1828. A city charter was secured in 1864. In 1861 a state military camp was established here, and in 1864-1865 there was a prison camp here for Confederate soldiers.
ELMIRA, a city and the county seat of Chemung County, New York, U.S.A., is located 100 miles southeast of Rochester on the Chemung River, approximately 850 feet above sea level. Population: (1890) 30,893; (1900) 35,672, with 5,511 foreign-born (1,988 Irish and 1,208 German); (1910 census) 37,176. It is served by the Erie, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Lackawanna & Western, Lehigh Valley, and Tioga Division railways, the last of which connects it to the Pennsylvania coalfields 48 miles away. The city is beautifully situated on both sides of the river, featuring a strong water supply and a park system that includes Eldridge, Rorick’s Glen, Riverside, Brand, Diven, Grove, Maple Avenue, and Wisner Parks; Wisner Park has a statue of Thomas K. Beecher by J.S. Hartley. The city is home to a federal building, a state armory, the Chemung County courthouse and other county buildings, the Elmira orphanage, the Steele Memorial Library, a home for the elderly, the Arnot-Ogden Memorial Hospital, the Elmira Free Academy, and the Railway Commercial Training School. Also located here is Elmira College (Presbyterian) for women, founded in 1855. This institution, originally chartered in 1852 as Auburn Female University in Auburn, was rechartered in 1855 as Elmira Female College, established largely due to the influence and dedicated efforts of Rev. Samuel Robbins Brown (1810-1880) and his associates, particularly Simeon Benjamin of Elmira, who contributed generously to the newly established college. It was the first distinct collegiate institution for women in the United States, apparently the first to grant degrees to women. The most recognized institution in the city is the Elmira Reformatory, a state prison for first-time offenders aged sixteen to thirty, operating under a system of general indeterminate sentences. Authorized by the state legislature in 1866 and opened in 1876 under the direction of Zebulon Reed Brockway (b. 1827), it was the first of its kind and has served as a model for similar institutions in the United States and other countries (see Juvenile Offenders). Elmira is an important railway hub with large repair shops and extensive manufacturing facilities (production value in 1900: $8,558,786, with $6,596,603 under the “factory system”; in 1905, $6,984,095 under the “factory system”), including boot and shoe factories, a major fire-extinguishing apparatus factory, iron and steel bridge works, steel rolling mills, large valve works, steel plate mills, knitting mills, furniture, glass and boiler factories, breweries, and silk mills. Near Elmira's location, the Battle of Newtown occurred on August 29, 1779, where General John Sullivan decisively defeated a force of Indians and Loyalists commanded by Sir John Johnson and Joseph Brant. Some settlers were present at the end of the War of Independence, but a permanent settlement didn’t form until 1788. The village was incorporated as Newtown in 1815 and then reincorporated as Elmira in 1828. A city charter was obtained in 1864. In 1861, a state military camp was set up here, and from 1864 to 1865, there was a prison camp for Confederate soldiers.
ELMSHORN, a town of Germany, in the Prussian province of Schleswig-Holstein, on the Krückau, 19 m. by rail N.W. from Altona. Pop. (1905) 13,640. Its industries include weaving, dyeing, brewing, iron-founding and the manufacture of leather goods, boots and shoes and machines. There is a considerable shipping trade.
ELMSHORN is a town in Germany, located in the Prussian province of Schleswig-Holstein, on the Krückau River, 19 miles by rail northwest of Altona. The population was 13,640 in 1905. Its industries include weaving, dyeing, brewing, iron founding, and the production of leather goods, boots, shoes, and machinery. There is a significant shipping trade.
ELMSLEY, PETER (1773-1825), English classical scholar. He was educated at Westminster and Christ Church, Oxford, and having inherited a fortune from his uncle, a well-known bookseller, devoted himself to the study of classical authors and manuscripts. In 1798 he was appointed to the chapelry of Little Horkesley in Essex, which he held till his death. He travelled extensively in France and Italy, and spent the winter of 1818 in examining the MSS. in the Laurentian library at Florence. In 1819 he was commissioned, with Sir Humphry Davy, to decipher the papyri found at Herculaneum, but the results proved insignificant. In 1823 he was appointed principal of St Alban’s Hall, Oxford, and Camden professor of ancient history. He died in Oxford on the 8th of March 1825. Elmsley was a man of most extensive learning and European reputation, and was considered to be the best ecclesiastical scholar in England. But it is chiefly by his collation of the MSS. of the Greek tragedians and his critical labours on the restoration of their text that he will be remembered. He edited the Acharnians of Aristophanes, and several of the plays and scholia of Sophocles and Euripides. He was the first to recognize the importance of the Laurentian MS. (see Sandys, Hist. of Class. Schol. iii. (1908).
ELMSLEY, PETER (1773-1825), English classical scholar. He was educated at Westminster and Christ Church, Oxford, and after inheriting a fortune from his uncle, a well-known bookseller, he dedicated himself to studying classical authors and manuscripts. In 1798, he was appointed to the chapelry of Little Horkesley in Essex, a position he held until his death. He traveled widely in France and Italy, spending the winter of 1818 examining the manuscripts in the Laurentian library at Florence. In 1819, he was commissioned, along with Sir Humphry Davy, to decipher the papyri found at Herculaneum, but the results were insignificant. In 1823, he became the principal of St Alban’s Hall, Oxford, and Camden professor of ancient history. He died in Oxford on March 8, 1825. Elmsley was a man of extensive knowledge and European reputation, regarded as the best ecclesiastical scholar in England. However, he will mainly be remembered for his collation of the manuscripts of the Greek tragedians and his critical work on restoring their text. He edited the Acharnians of Aristophanes and several plays and scholia of Sophocles and Euripides. He was the first to recognize the significance of the Laurentian manuscript (see Sandys, Hist. of Class. Schol. iii. (1908).
ELNE, a town of south-western France in the department of Pyrénées-Orientales, 10 m. S.S.E. of Perpignan by rail. Pop. (1906) 3026. The hill on which it stands, once washed by the sea, which is now over 3 m. distant, commands a fine view over the plain of Roussillon. From the 6th century till 1602 the town was the seat of a bishopric, which was transferred to Perpignan. The cathedral of St Eulalie, a Romanesque building completed about the beginning of the 12th century, has a beautiful cloister in the same style, with interesting sculptures and three early Christian sarcophagi. Remains of the ancient ramparts flanked by towers are still to be seen. Silk-worm cultivation is carried on. Elne, the ancient Illiberis, was named Helena by the emperor Constantine in memory of his mother. Hannibal encamped under its walls on his march to Rome in 218 B.C. The emperor Constans was assassinated there in A.D. 350. The town several times sustained siege and capture between its occupation by the Moors in the 8th century and its capitulation in 1641 to the troops of Louis XIII.
ELNE is a town in southwestern France, located in the department of Pyrénées-Orientales, 10 miles S.S.E. of Perpignan by train. Its population in 1906 was 3,026. The hill where it’s situated, once by the sea—now over 3 miles away—offers a great view of the Roussillon plain. From the 6th century until 1602, the town served as the seat of a bishopric, which was later moved to Perpignan. The Cathedral of St. Eulalie, a Romanesque structure completed around the early 12th century, features a beautiful cloister in the same style, complete with interesting sculptures and three early Christian sarcophagi. Remnants of the old ramparts, lined with towers, can still be seen. Silk-worm cultivation is practiced here. Elne, known in ancient times as Illiberis, was named Helena by Emperor Constantine in honor of his mother. Hannibal camped outside its walls on his way to Rome in 218 BCE The Emperor Constans was assassinated here in CE 350. The town endured several sieges and captures from its occupation by the Moors in the 8th century until it surrendered in 1641 to the forces of Louis XIII.
EL OBEID, chief town of the mudiria (province) of Kordofan, Anglo-Egyptian Sudan, and 230 m. S.W. by S. of Khartum in 298 a direct line. Pop. (1905) about 10,000. It is situated about 2000 ft. above the sea, at the northern foot of Jebel Kordofan, in 13° 11′ N. and 30° 14′ E. It is an important trade centre, the chief articles of commerce being gum, ivory, cattle and ostrich feathers. A considerable part of the trade of Darfur with Egypt passes through El Obeid.
EL OBEID, the main town of the Kordofan province in Anglo-Egyptian Sudan, is located 230 miles southwest of Khartoum in a straight line. The population in 1905 was around 10,000. It sits about 2000 feet above sea level, at the northern foot of Jebel Kordofan, positioned at 13° 11′ N. and 30° 14′ E. El Obeid is a vital trade center, with the main goods being gum, ivory, cattle, and ostrich feathers. A significant portion of the trade between Darfur and Egypt passes through El Obeid.
El Obeid, which appears to be a place of considerable antiquity and the ancient capital of the country, was garrisoned by the Egyptians on their conquest of Kordofan in 1821. In September 1882 the town was assaulted by the troops of the mahdi, who, being repulsed, laid siege to the place, which capitulated on the 17th of January 1883. During the Mahdia the city was destroyed and deserted, and when Kordofan passed, in 1899, into the possession of the Anglo-Egyptian authorities nothing was left of El Obeid but a part of the old government offices. A new town was laid out in squares, the mudiria repaired and barracks built. (See Kordofan, and Sudan: Anglo-Egyptian.)
El Obeid, which seems to be a place with a lot of history and was the ancient capital of the region, was occupied by the Egyptians when they conquered Kordofan in 1821. In September 1882, the town was attacked by the forces of the mahdi, who, after being pushed back, besieged the town, which surrendered on January 17, 1883. During the Mahdist Revolt, the city was destroyed and abandoned, and when Kordofan came under the control of the Anglo-Egyptian authorities in 1899, nothing remained of El Obeid except for part of the old government buildings. A new town was laid out in squares, the mudiria was refurbished, and barracks were constructed. (See Kordofan, and Sudan: Anglo-Egyptian.)
ELOI [Eligius], SAINT (588-659), apostle of the Belgians and Frisians, was born at Cadillac, near Limoges, in 588. Having at an early age shown artistic talent he was placed by his parents with the master of the mint at Limoges, where he made rapid progress in goldsmith’s work. He became coiner to Clotaire II., king of the Franks, and treasurer to his successor Dagobert. Both kings entrusted him with important works, among which were the composition of the bas-reliefs which ornament the tomb of St Germain, bishop of Paris, and the execution (for Clotaire) of two chairs of gold, adorned with jewels, which at that time were reckoned chefs-d’œuvre. Though he was amassing great wealth, Eloi acquired a distaste for a worldly life, and resolved to become a priest. At first he retired to a monastery, but in 640 was raised to the bishopric of Noyon. He made frequent missionary excursions to the pagans of the Low Countries, and also founded a great many monasteries and churches. He died on the 1st of December 659. A mass of legend has gathered round the life of St Eloi, who as the patron saint of goldsmiths is still very popular.
ELOI [Eligius], SAINT (588-659), apostle to the Belgians and Frisians, was born in Cadillac, near Limoges, in 588. Showing artistic talent from a young age, he was placed by his parents with the master of the mint in Limoges, where he quickly excelled in goldsmithing. He became the official coin maker for Clotaire II, king of the Franks, and later served as treasurer for his successor Dagobert. Both kings entrusted him with significant projects, including creating the bas-reliefs that decorate the tomb of St. Germain, bishop of Paris, and crafting two gold chairs, embellished with jewels, for Clotaire, which were considered masterpieces at the time. Despite accumulating considerable wealth, Eloi grew disillusioned with a luxurious life and decided to become a priest. Initially, he retired to a monastery, but in 640, he was appointed bishop of Noyon. He frequently undertook missionary journeys to convert the pagans in the Low Countries and founded numerous monasteries and churches. He passed away on December 1, 659. Many legends have developed around the life of St. Eloi, who, as the patron saint of goldsmiths, remains very popular today.
His life was written by his friend and contemporary St Ouen (Audoenus); French translations of the Vita S. Eligii auctore Audoeno were published by L. de Montigny (Paris, 1626), by C. Barthélemy in Études hist., litt. et art. (ib. 1847), and by Parenty, with notes (2nd ed., ib. 1870). For bibliography see Potthast, Bibliotheca hist. med. aevi (Berlin, 1896), s.v. “Vita S. Eligii Noviomensis,” and Ulysse Chevalier, Rép. des sources hist., Bio-bibl. (Paris, 1894), s. “Eloi.”
His life was written by his friend and contemporary St. Ouen (Audoenus); French translations of the Vita S. Eligii auctore Audoeno were published by L. de Montigny (Paris, 1626), by C. Barthélemy in Études hist., litt. et art. (ib. 1847), and by Parenty, with notes (2nd ed., ib. 1870). For bibliography, see Potthast, Bibliotheca hist. med. aevi (Berlin, 1896), s.v. “Vita S. Eligii Noviomensis,” and Ulysse Chevalier, Rép. des sources hist., Bio-bibl. (Paris, 1894), s. “Eloi.”
ELONGATION, strictly “lengthening”; in astronomy, the apparent angular distance of a heavenly body from its centre of motion, as seen from the earth; designating especially the angular distance of the planet Mercury or Venus from the sun, or the apparent angle between a satellite and its primary. The greatest elongation of Venus is about 45°; that of Mercury generally ranges between 18° and 27°.
ELONGATION, which means “lengthening”; in astronomy, it refers to the visible angular distance of a celestial body from its center of motion, as observed from Earth; it specifically indicates the angular distance of the planets Mercury or Venus from the sun, or the apparent angle between a satellite and its primary. The greatest elongation of Venus is about 45°; for Mercury, it typically ranges from 18° to 27°.
EL PASO, a city, port of entry, and the county-seat of El Paso county, Texas, U.S.A., on the E. bank of the Rio Grande, in the extreme W. part of the state, at an altitude of 3710 ft. Pop. (1880) 736; (1890) 10,338; (1900) 15,906, of whom 6309 were foreign-born and 466 were negroes; (1910 census) 39,279. Many of the inhabitants are of Mexican descent. El Paso is an important railway centre and is served by the following railways: the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fé, of which it is the S. terminus; the El Paso & South-Western, which connects with the Chicago, Rock Island & El Paso (of the Rock Island system); the Galveston, Harrisburg & San Antonio, of which it is the W. terminus; the Mexican Central, of which it is the N. terminus; the Texas & Pacific, of which it is the W. terminus; a branch of the Southern Pacific, of which it is the E. terminus; and the short Rio Grande, Sierra Madre & Pacific, of which it is the N. terminus. The city is regularly laid out on level bottom lands, stretching to the table-lands and slopes to the N.E. and N.W. of the city. Opposite, on the W. bank of the river, is the Mexican town of Ciudad Juarez (until 1885 known as Paso del Norte), with which El Paso is connected by bridges and by electric railway. The climate is mild, warm and dry, El Paso being well known as a health resort, particularly for sufferers from pulmonary complaints. Among the city’s public buildings are a handsome Federal building, a county court house, a city hall, a Y.M.C.A. building, a public library, a sanatorium for consumptives, and the Hotel Dieu, a hospital maintained by Roman Catholics. El Paso is the seat of St Joseph’s Academy and of the El Paso Military Institute. Three miles E. of the city limits is Fort Bliss, a U.S. military post, with a reservation of about 2 sq. m. El Paso’s situation on the Mexican frontier gives it a large trade with Mexico; it is the port of entry of the Paso del Norte customs district, one of the larger Mexican border districts, and in 1908 its imports were valued at $2,677,784 and its exports at $5,661,901. Wheat, boots and shoes, mining machinery, cement, lime, lumber, beer, and denatured alcohol are among the varied exports; the principal imports are ore, sugar, cigars, oranges, drawn work and Mexican curios. El Paso has extensive manufactories, especially railway car shops, which in 1905 employed 34.5% of the factory wage-earners. Just outside the city limits are important lead smelting works, to which are brought ores for treatment from western Texas, northern Mexico, New Mexico and Arizona. Among the city’s manufactures are cement, denatured alcohol, ether, varnish, clothing and canned goods. The value of the city’s total factory product in 1905 was $2,377,813, 96% greater than that in 1900. El Paso lies in a fertile agricultural valley, and in 1908 the erection of an immense dam was begun near Engle, New Mexico (100 m. above El Paso), by the U.S. government, to store the flood waters of the Rio Grande for irrigating this area. Before the Mexican War, following which the first United States settlement was made, the site of El Paso was known as Ponce de Leon Ranch, the land being owned by the Ponce de Leon family. El Paso was first chartered as a city in 1873, and in 1907 adopted the commission form of government.
EL PASO is a city, port of entry, and the county seat of El Paso County, Texas, U.S.A., located on the east bank of the Rio Grande, in the far west part of the state, at an elevation of 3710 ft. Population: (1880) 736; (1890) 10,338; (1900) 15,906, including 6309 foreign-born residents and 466 African Americans; (1910 census) 39,279. Many of the residents are of Mexican descent. El Paso is an important railway hub and is served by several railways: the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fé, which is its southern terminus; the El Paso & South-Western, connecting with the Chicago, Rock Island & El Paso (of the Rock Island system); the Galveston, Harrisburg & San Antonio, of which it is the western terminus; the Mexican Central, with El Paso as its northern terminus; the Texas & Pacific, which is the western terminus; a branch of the Southern Pacific, of which it is the eastern terminus; and the short Rio Grande, Sierra Madre & Pacific, which has El Paso as its northern terminus. The city is well-planned on flat lowlands, extending to the plateaus and slopes to the northeast and northwest of the city. Across the river, on the west bank, is the Mexican town of Ciudad Juarez (formerly known as Paso del Norte until 1885), connected to El Paso by bridges and an electric railway. The climate is mild, warm, and dry, with El Paso recognized as a health resort, especially for people with lung conditions. Notable public buildings include an impressive Federal building, a county courthouse, a city hall, a YMCA building, a public library, a sanatorium for tuberculosis patients, and the Hotel Dieu, a hospital run by Roman Catholics. El Paso is home to St Joseph’s Academy and the El Paso Military Institute. Three miles east of the city limits is Fort Bliss, a U.S. military post covering about 2 square miles. El Paso’s location on the Mexican border allows for a significant trade relationship with Mexico; it is the port of entry for the Paso del Norte customs district, one of the larger Mexican border districts. In 1908, its imports were valued at $2,677,784, and its exports at $5,661,901. Exports include wheat, footwear, mining machinery, cement, lime, lumber, beer, and denatured alcohol, while the main imports are ore, sugar, cigars, oranges, intricately designed textiles, and Mexican souvenirs. El Paso has large manufacturing facilities, particularly railway car shops, which employed 34.5% of factory wage earners in 1905. Just outside the city limits are significant lead smelting operations, which process ores from western Texas, northern Mexico, New Mexico, and Arizona. The city produces cement, denatured alcohol, ether, varnish, clothing, and canned goods. The total value of the city’s factory output in 1905 was $2,377,813, an increase of 96% from 1900. El Paso is situated in a fertile agricultural valley, and in 1908, the U.S. government began constructing a huge dam near Engle, New Mexico (100 miles above El Paso) to store floodwaters from the Rio Grande for irrigation purposes in the area. Before the Mexican War, after which the first U.S. settlement was established, the site of El Paso was known as Ponce de Leon Ranch, owned by the Ponce de Leon family. El Paso was first chartered as a city in 1873 and adopted a commission form of government in 1907.
ELPHINSTONE, MOUNTSTUART (1779-1859), Indian statesman and historian, fourth son of the 11th Baron Elphinstone in the peerage of Scotland, was born in 1779. Having received an appointment in the civil service of the East India Company, of which one of his uncles was a director, he reached Calcutta in the beginning of 1796. After filling several subordinate posts, he was appointed in 1801 assistant to the British resident at Poona, at the court of the peshwa, the most powerful of the Mahratta princes. Here he obtained his first opportunity of distinction, being attached in the capacity of diplomatist to the mission of Sir Arthur Wellesley to the Mahrattas. When, on the failure of negotiations, war broke out, Elphinstone, though a civilian, acted as virtual aide-de-camp to General Wellesley. He was present at the battle of Assaye, and displayed such courage and knowledge of tactics throughout the whole campaign that Wellesley told him he had mistaken his profession, and that he ought to have been a soldier. In 1804, when the war closed, he was appointed British resident at Nagpur. Here, the times being uneventful and his duties light, he occupied much of his leisure in reading classical and general literature, and acquired those studious habits which clung to him throughout life. In 1808 he was appointed the first British envoy to the court of Kabul, with the object of securing a friendly alliance with the Afghans; but this proved of little value, because Shah Shuja was driven from the throne by his brother before it could be ratified. The most valuable permanent result of the embassy was the literary fruit it bore several years afterwards in Elphinstone’s great work on Kabul. After spending about a year in Calcutta arranging the report of his mission, Elphinstone was appointed in 1811 to the important and difficult post of resident at Poona. The difficulty arose from the general complication of Mahratta politics, and especially from the weak and treacherous character of the peshwa, which Elphinstone rightly read from the first. While the mask of friendship was kept up Elphinstone carried out the only suitable policy, that of vigilant quiescence, with admirable tact and patience; when in 1817 the mask was thrown aside and the peshwa ventured to declare war, the English resident proved for the second time the truth of Wellesley’s assertion that he was born a soldier. Though his own account of his share in the campaign is characteristically modest, one can gather from it that the success of the British troops was 299 chiefly owing to his assuming the command at an important crisis during the battle of Kirkee.
ELPHINSTONE, MOUNTSTUART (1779-1859), Indian statesman and historian, the fourth son of the 11th Baron Elphinstone in the Scottish peerage, was born in 1779. After getting a job in the civil service of the East India Company, where one of his uncles was a director, he arrived in Calcutta in early 1796. He held several lower-level positions, and in 1801, he was appointed assistant to the British resident in Poona at the court of the peshwa, the most powerful of the Mahratta princes. Here, he had his first chance to shine, as he was assigned as a diplomat to Sir Arthur Wellesley's mission to the Mahrattas. When negotiations failed and war broke out, Elphinstone, even though he was a civilian, effectively acted as an aide-de-camp to General Wellesley. He was present at the battle of Assaye and showed such bravery and tactical knowledge throughout the campaign that Wellesley remarked he had chosen the wrong profession and should have been a soldier. In 1804, when the war ended, he became the British resident in Nagpur. With few major events and light responsibilities, he spent much of his free time reading classical and general literature, developing the studious habits that stayed with him for life. In 1808, he became the first British envoy to the court of Kabul to secure a friendly alliance with the Afghans; however, this proved largely ineffective as Shah Shuja was overthrown by his brother before it could be formalized. The key lasting outcome of the embassy was the literary work that emerged several years later in Elphinstone’s major text on Kabul. After about a year in Calcutta organizing his mission's report, Elphinstone was appointed in 1811 to the significant and challenging role of resident in Poona. The challenges stemmed from the complicated politics of the Mahrattas, particularly the weak and deceitful nature of the peshwa, which Elphinstone accurately assessed from the beginning. While maintaining a façade of friendship, Elphinstone implemented the only viable strategy, which was a careful watchfulness, with impressive skill and patience; when in 1817 the peshwa dropped the pretense and declared war, the English resident once again demonstrated Wellesley’s assertion that he was born a soldier. Although his own account of his role in the campaign is notably humble, it reveals that the British troops' success was largely due to his taking command at a crucial moment during the battle of Kirkee. 299
The peshwa being driven from his throne, his territories were annexed to the British dominions, and Elphinstone was nominated commissioner to administer them. He discharged the responsible task with rare judgment and ability. In 1819 he was appointed lieutenant-governor of Bombay and held this post till 1827, his principal achievement being the compilation of the “Elphinstone code.” He may fairly be regarded as the founder of the system of state education in India, and he probably did more than any other Indian administrator to further every likely scheme for the promotion of native education. His connexion with the Bombay presidency was appropriately commemorated in the endowment of the Elphinstone College by the native communities, and in the erection of a marble statue by the European inhabitants.
The peshwa was removed from his throne, and his territories were added to the British Empire. Elphinstone was appointed commissioner to oversee them. He handled this significant responsibility with exceptional judgment and skill. In 1819, he became lieutenant-governor of Bombay and held this position until 1827, with his main accomplishment being the creation of the “Elphinstone code.” He can rightly be seen as the founder of the state education system in India, and he likely did more than any other Indian administrator to advance every viable plan for promoting native education. His connection with the Bombay presidency was fittingly honored by the establishment of the Elphinstone College by the local communities and the erection of a marble statue by the European residents.
Returning to England in 1829, after an interval of two years’ travel, Elphinstone retained in his retirement and enfeebled health an important influence on public affairs. He twice refused the offer of the governor-generalship of India. Long before his return he had made his reputation as an author by his Account of the Kingdom of Cabul and its Dependencies in Persia and India (1815). Soon after his arrival in England he commenced the preparation of a work of wider scope, a history of India, which was published in 1841. It embraces the Hindu and Mahommedan periods, and is still a work of high authority. He died on the 20th of November 1859.
Returning to England in 1829, after two years of travel, Elphinstone maintained significant influence on public affairs despite his retirement and declining health. He declined the position of governor-general of India twice. Long before his return, he had established his reputation as an author with his Account of the Kingdom of Cabul and its Dependencies in Persia and India (1815). Shortly after arriving in England, he began working on a more comprehensive project, a history of India, which was published in 1841. It covers the Hindu and Muslim periods and is still regarded as a highly authoritative work. He passed away on November 20, 1859.
See J.S. Cotton, Mountstuart Elphinstone (“Rulers of India” series), (1892); T.E. Colebrooke, Life of Mountstuart Elphinstone (1884); and G.W. Forrest, Official Writings of Mountstuart Elphinstone (1884).
See J.S. Cotton, Mountstuart Elphinstone (“Rulers of India” series), (1892); T.E. Colebrooke, Life of Mountstuart Elphinstone (1884); and G.W. Forrest, Official Writings of Mountstuart Elphinstone (1884).
ELPHINSTONE, WILLIAM (1431-1514), Scottish statesman and prelate, founder of the university of Aberdeen, was born in Glasgow, and educated at the university of his native city, taking the degree of M.A. in 1452. After practising for a short time as a lawyer in the church courts, he was ordained priest, becoming rector of St Michael’s church, Trongate, Glasgow, in 1465. Four years later he went to continue his studies at the university of Paris, where he became reader in canon law, and then, proceeding to Orleans, became lecturer in the university there. Before 1474 he had returned to Scotland, and was made rector of the university, and official of the see of Glasgow. Further promotion followed, but soon more important duties were entrusted to Elphinstone, who was made bishop of Ross in 1481. He was a member of the Scots parliament, and was sent by King James III. on diplomatic errands to Louis XI. of France, and to Edward IV. of England; in 1483 he was appointed bishop of Aberdeen, although his consecration was delayed for four years; and he was sent on missions to England, both before and after the death of Richard III. in 1485. Although he attended the meetings of parliament with great regularity he did not neglect his episcopal duties, and the fabric of the cathedral of Aberdeen owes much to his care. Early in 1488 the bishop was made lord high chancellor, but on the king’s death in the following June he vacated this office, and retired to Aberdeen. As a diplomatist of repute, however, his services were quickly required by the new king, James IV., in whose interests he visited the kings of England and France, and the German king, Maximilian I. Having been made keeper of the privy seal in 1492, and having arranged a dispute between the Scotch and the Dutch, the bishop’s concluding years were mainly spent in the foundation of the university of Aberdeen. The papal bull for this purpose was obtained in 1494, and the royal charter which made old Aberdeen the seat of a university is dated 1498. A small endowment was provided by the king, and the university, modelled on that of Paris and intended principally to be a school of law, soon became the most famous and popular of the Scots seats of learning, a result which was largely due to the wide experience and ripe wisdom of Elphinstone and of his friend, Hector Boece, the first rector. The building of the college of the Holy Virgin in Nativity, now King’s College, was completed in 1506, and the bishop also rebuilt the choir of his cathedral, and built a bridge over the Dee. Continuing to participate in public affairs he opposed the policy of hostility towards England which led to the disaster at Flodden in September 1513, and died in Edinburgh on the 25th of October 1514. Elphinstone was partly responsible for the introduction of printing into Scotland, and for the production of the Breviarium Aberdonense. He may have written some of the lives in this collection, and gathered together materials concerning the history of Scotland; but he did not, as some have thought, continue the Scotichronicon, nor did he write the Lives of Scottish Saints.
ELPHINSTONE, WILLIAM (1431-1514), was a Scottish statesman and church leader who founded the University of Aberdeen. He was born in Glasgow and educated at the university there, receiving his M.A. in 1452. After practicing as a lawyer in church courts for a short time, he was ordained as a priest and became rector of St. Michael’s Church in Trongate, Glasgow, in 1465. Four years later, he went to further his studies at the University of Paris, where he became a canon law reader. He then moved to Orleans, where he lectured at the university. By 1474, he had returned to Scotland and was appointed rector of the university and official of the Diocese of Glasgow. He received further promotions, but soon took on more significant responsibilities when he was made Bishop of Ross in 1481. He was a member of the Scottish Parliament and was sent by King James III on diplomatic missions to Louis XI of France and Edward IV of England. In 1483, he was appointed Bishop of Aberdeen, although his consecration was delayed for four years. He undertook missions to England before and after Richard III's death in 1485. Although he regularly attended parliamentary meetings, he also fulfilled his duties as a bishop, contributing significantly to the construction of the Aberdeen Cathedral. In early 1488, he was appointed Lord High Chancellor, but vacated the position after the king’s death in June and returned to Aberdeen. However, his diplomatic skills were soon in demand by the new king, James IV, for whom he visited the kings of England, France, and the Holy Roman Emperor, Maximilian I. After being appointed keeper of the privy seal in 1492 and resolving a dispute between the Scots and the Dutch, Elphinstone spent his later years founding the University of Aberdeen. The papal approval for this was secured in 1494, and the royal charter establishing Aberdeen as a university was dated 1498. The king provided a small endowment, and the university, modeled after Paris, aimed primarily at law, quickly became the most renowned and popular institution for education in Scotland, largely thanks to Elphinstone and his friend, Hector Boece, the first rector. The construction of the College of the Holy Virgin in Nativity, now known as King’s College, was finished in 1506. The bishop also rebuilt the choir of his cathedral and constructed a bridge over the Dee. He remained active in public affairs and opposed the policies of hostility toward England that led to the disaster at Flodden in September 1513. He passed away in Edinburgh on October 25, 1514. Elphinstone played a key role in introducing printing to Scotland and in producing the Breviarium Aberdonense. He may have written some of the lives included in this collection and collected materials on Scottish history, but contrary to some beliefs, he did not continue the Scotichronicon or write the Lives of Scottish Saints.
See Hector Boece, Murthlacensium et Aberdonensium episcoporum vitae, edited and translated by J. Moir (Aberdeen, 1894); Fasti Aberdonenses, edited by C. Innes (Aberdeen, 1854); and A. Gardyne, Theatre of Scottish Worthies and Lyf of W. Elphinston, edited by D. Laing (Aberdeen, 1878).
See Hector Boece, Murthlacensium et Aberdonensium episcoporum vitae, edited and translated by J. Moir (Aberdeen, 1894); Fasti Aberdonenses, edited by C. Innes (Aberdeen, 1854); and A. Gardyne, Theatre of Scottish Worthies and Lyf of W. Elphinston, edited by D. Laing (Aberdeen, 1878).
EL RENO, a city and the county-seat of Canadian county, Oklahoma, U.S.A., on the N. fork of the Canadian river, about 26 m. W. of Oklahoma City. Pop. (1890) 285; (1900) 3383; (1907) 5370 (401 were of negro descent and 7 were Indians); (1910) 7872. It is served by the Chicago, Rock Island & Pacific, the Choctaw, Oklahoma & Gulf (owned by the Chicago, Rock Island & Pacific), and the St Louis, El Reno & Western railways, the last extending from El Reno to Guthrie. El Reno lies on the rolling prairie lands, about 1360 ft. above the sea, in an Indian corn, wheat, oats and cotton-producing and dairying region, and has a large grain elevator, a cotton compress, and various manufacturing establishments, among the products being flour, canned goods and crockery. El Reno has a Carnegie library, and within the city’s limits is Bellamy’s Lake (180 acres), a favourite resort. Near the city is a Government boarding school for the Indians of the Cheyenne and the Arapahoe Reservation. Fort Reno, a U.S. military post, was established near El Reno in 1876, and in 1908 became a supply depot of the quartermaster’s department under the name of “Fort Reno Remount Depot.” The first settlement here, apart from the fort, was made in the autumn of 1889; in 1892 El Reno received a city charter.
EL RENO, a city and the county seat of Canadian County, Oklahoma, U.S.A., is located on the North Fork of the Canadian River, about 26 miles west of Oklahoma City. Population: (1890) 285; (1900) 3,383; (1907) 5,370 (401 were of African descent and 7 were Native Americans); (1910) 7,872. It is served by the Chicago, Rock Island & Pacific, the Choctaw, Oklahoma & Gulf (owned by the Chicago, Rock Island & Pacific), and the St. Louis, El Reno & Western railroads, with the latter connecting El Reno to Guthrie. El Reno is situated on rolling prairie land, about 1,360 feet above sea level, in a region that produces Indian corn, wheat, oats, and cotton, as well as dairy products. The city has a large grain elevator, a cotton compress, and various manufacturing facilities, with products including flour, canned goods, and crockery. El Reno features a Carnegie library, and within the city limits is Bellamy’s Lake (180 acres), a popular recreational spot. Near the city, there is a government boarding school for the Cheyenne and Arapahoe Reservation. Fort Reno, a U.S. military post, was established near El Reno in 1876 and became a supply depot for the quartermaster’s department in 1908, known as the “Fort Reno Remount Depot.” The first settlement in the area, aside from the fort, occurred in the autumn of 1889; El Reno was granted a city charter in 1892.
ELSFLETH, a maritime town of Germany, in the grand-duchy of Oldenburg, in a fertile district at the confluence of the Hunte with the Weser, on the railway Hude-Nordenham. Pop. 2000. It has an Evangelical church, a school of navigation, a harbour and docks. It has considerable trade in corn and timber and is one of the centres of the North Sea herring fishery.
ELSFLETH is a coastal town in Germany, located in the grand-duchy of Oldenburg, in a fertile area where the Hunte River meets the Weser River, along the Hude-Nordenham railway. Its population is around 2,000. The town features an Evangelical church, a navigation school, a harbor, and docks. It has a significant trade in grain and timber and is one of the key hubs for North Sea herring fishing.
ELSINORE (Dan. Helsingör), a seaport of Denmark in the amt (county) of Frederiksborg, on the east coast of the island of Zealand, 28 m. N. of Copenhagen by rail. Pop. (1901) 13,902. It stands at the narrowest part of the Sound, opposite the Swedish town of Helsingborg, 3 m. distant. Communication is maintained by means of a steam ferry. Its harbour admits vessels of 20 ft. draught, and the roadstead affords excellent anchorage. There are shipbuilding yards, with foundry, engineering shops, &c.; the chief export is agricultural produce; imports, iron, coal, cereals and yarn. Helsingör received town-privileges in 1425. In 1522 it was taken and burnt by Lübeck, but in 1535 was retaken by Christian II. It is celebrated as the Elsinore of Shakespeare’s tragedy of Hamlet, and was the birthplace of Saxo Grammaticus, from whose history the story of Hamlet is derived. A pile of rocks surrounded by trees is shown as the grave of Hamlet, and Ophelia’s brook is also pointed out, but both are, of course, inventions. On a tongue of land east of the town stands the castle of Kronberg or Kronenberg, a magnificent, solid and venerable Gothic structure built by Frederick II. towards the end of the 16th century, and extensively restored by Christian IV. after a fire in 1637. It was taken by the Swedes in 1658, but its possession was again given up to the Danes in 1660. From its turrets, one of which serves as a lighthouse, there are fine views of the straits and of the neighbouring countries. The Flag Battery is the “platform before the castle” where the ghost appears in Hamlet. Within it the principal object of interest is the apartment in which Matilda, queen of Christian VII. and sister of George III. of England, was imprisoned before she was taken to Hanover. The chapel contains fine wood-carving of the 17th century. North-west of the town 300 is Marienlyst, originally a royal château, but now a seaside resort.
ELSINORE (Dan. Helsingör), a port city in Denmark located in the amt (county) of Frederiksborg, on the east coast of the island of Zealand, 28 miles north of Copenhagen by train. Population (1901) 13,902. It sits at the narrowest point of the Sound, directly across from the Swedish town of Helsingborg, which is 3 miles away. A steam ferry provides regular transportation. Its harbor can accommodate vessels with a draft of 20 feet, and the open water offers excellent anchorage. The city has shipbuilding yards, a foundry, engineering shops, etc.; its main exports are agricultural products, while it imports iron, coal, cereals, and yarn. Helsingör was granted town privileges in 1425. In 1522, it was captured and burned by Lübeck, but in 1535 it was reclaimed by Christian II. It is famous as the setting of Shakespeare’s play Hamlet, and it was the birthplace of Saxo Grammaticus, from whose writings the story of Hamlet originates. A collection of stones surrounded by trees is claimed to be Hamlet's grave, and Ophelia’s brook is also marked, though both are fictional creations. On a peninsula to the east of the town stands the castle of Kronberg or Kronenberg, a stunning, sturdy, and ancient Gothic structure built by Frederick II. toward the end of the 16th century, and extensively renovated by Christian IV. after a fire in 1637. It was captured by the Swedes in 1658, but was handed back to the Danes in 1660. From its towers, one of which serves as a lighthouse, there are beautiful views of the straits and the surrounding countries. The Flag Battery is the “platform in front of the castle” where the ghost appears in Hamlet. Inside, the main point of interest is the room where Matilda, queen of Christian VII. and sister of George III. of England, was held captive before she was taken to Hanover. The chapel features exquisite 17th-century wood carving. North-west of the town 300 is Marienlyst, originally a royal château, but now a seaside resort.
ELSSLER, FANNY (1810-1884), Austrian dancer, was born in Vienna on the 23rd of June 1810. From her earliest years she was trained for the ballet, and made her appearance at the Kärntner-Thor theatre in Vienna before she was seven. She almost invariably danced with her sister Theresa, who was two years her senior; and, after some years’ experience together in Vienna, the two went in 1827 to Naples. Their success there—to which Fanny contributed more largely than her sister, who used to efface herself in order to heighten the effect of Fanny’s more brilliant powers—led to an engagement in Berlin in 1830. This was the beginning of a series of triumphs for Fanny’s personal beauty and skill in dancing. After captivating all hearts in Berlin and Vienna, and inspiring the aged statesman Friedrich von Gentz (q.v.) with a remarkable passion, she paid a visit to London, where she received much kindness at the hands of Mr and Mrs Grote, who practically adopted the little girl who was born three months after the mother’s arrival in England. In September 1834 Fanny Elssler appeared at the Opera in Paris, a step to which she looked forward with much misgiving on account of Taglioni’s supremacy on that stage. The result, however, was another triumph for her, and the temporary eclipse of Taglioni, who, although the finer artist of the two, could not for the moment compete with the newcomer’s personal fascination. It was conspicuously in her performance of the Spanish cachuca that Fanny Elssler outshone all rivals. In 1840 she sailed with her sister for New York, and after two years’ unmixed success they returned to Europe, where during the following five years Fanny appeared in Germany, Austria, France, England and Russia. In 1845, having amassed a fortune, she retired from the stage and settled near Hamburg. A few years later her sister Theresa contracted a morganatic marriage with Prince Adalbert of Prussia, and was ennobled under the title of Baroness von Barnim. Fanny Elssler died at Vienna on the 27th of November 1884. Theresa was left a widow in 1873, and died on the 19th of November 1878.
ELSSLER, FANNY (1810-1884), Austrian dancer, was born in Vienna on June 23, 1810. From a young age, she was trained for ballet and made her debut at the Kärntner-Thor theatre in Vienna before turning seven. She usually danced alongside her sister Theresa, who was two years older; after gaining some experience together in Vienna, they moved to Naples in 1827. Their success there—where Fanny's talents shone brighter than Theresa's, who tended to play a supporting role to enhance Fanny’s more dazzling abilities—led to an engagement in Berlin in 1830. This marked the start of a series of triumphs for Fanny, showcasing her beauty and dancing skills. After winning over audiences in Berlin and Vienna, even inspiring the elderly statesman Friedrich von Gentz (q.v.) with a notable passion, she visited London, where she was warmly welcomed by Mr. and Mrs. Grote, who practically adopted the young girl born three months after their arrival in England. In September 1834, Fanny Elssler performed at the Opera in Paris, a step she approached with anxiety due to Taglioni’s dominance on that stage. However, she achieved another triumph and temporarily overshadowed Taglioni, who, despite being the more refined artist, couldn’t compete at that moment with the newcomer’s charm. Fanny Elssler particularly excelled in her performance of the Spanish cachuca, outshining all competition. In 1840, she traveled to New York with her sister, and after two years of uninterrupted success, they returned to Europe, where over the next five years, Fanny performed in Germany, Austria, France, England, and Russia. In 1845, having built a fortune, she retired from the stage and settled near Hamburg. A few years later, her sister Theresa entered into a morganatic marriage with Prince Adalbert of Prussia and was granted the title Baroness von Barnim. Fanny Elssler passed away in Vienna on November 27, 1884. Theresa became a widow in 1873, passing away on November 19, 1878.
ELSTER, the name of two rivers of Germany. (1) The Schwarze (Black) Elster rises in the Lausitz range, on the southern border of Saxony, flows N. and N.W., and after a course of 112 m. enters the Elbe a little above Wittenberg. It is a sluggish stream, winding its way through sandy soil and frequently along a divided channel. (2) The Weisse (White) Elster rises in the north-western corner of Bohemia, a little north of Eger, cuts through the Vogtland in a deep and picturesque valley, passing Plauen, Greiz, Gera and Zeitz on its way north to Leipzig, just below which city it receives its most important tributary, the Pleisse. At Leipzig it divides, the main stream turning north-west and entering the Saale from the right a little above Halle; the other arm, the Luppe, flowing parallel to the main stream and south of it enters the Saale below Merseburg. Total length, 121 m.; total descent, 1286 ft.
ELSTER, the name of two rivers in Germany. (1) The Schwarze (Black) Elster starts in the Lausitz range, on the southern border of Saxony, flows north and northwest, and after a journey of 112 miles, enters the Elbe just above Wittenberg. It's a slow-moving river, winding its way through sandy soil and often splitting into separate channels. (2) The Weisse (White) Elster originates in the northwestern corner of Bohemia, a bit north of Eger, carves through the Vogtland in a deep and scenic valley, passing through Plauen, Greiz, Gera, and Zeitz on its route north to Leipzig, where it receives its most significant tributary, the Pleisse, just south of the city. At Leipzig, it splits, with the main stream turning northwest and joining the Saale from the right just above Halle; the other branch, the Luppe, flows parallel to the main stream and south of it, entering the Saale below Merseburg. Total length is 121 miles; total descent is 1,286 feet.
ELSTER, a spa and inland watering-place of Germany, in the kingdom of Saxony, on the Weisse Elster, close to the Bohemian frontier on the railway Plauen-Eger, and 20 m. S. of the former. It has some industries of lace-making and weaving, and a population of about 2000, in addition to visitors. The mineral springs, saline-chalybeate, specific in cases of nervous disorders and feminine ailments, have been lately supplemented by baths of various kinds, and these, together with the natural attractions of the place as a climatic health resort, have combined to make it a fashionable watering-place during the summer season. The number of visitors amounts annually to about 10,000.
ELSTER is a spa and inland resort in Germany, located in the kingdom of Saxony on the Weisse Elster River, near the Bohemian border on the Plauen-Eger railway, and 20 miles south of Plauen. It has some industries like lace-making and weaving, with a population of around 2,000, in addition to visitors. The mineral springs, which are saline-chalybeate and effective for nervous disorders and women's health issues, have recently been enhanced by various types of baths. Together with the natural appeal of the area as a climatic health resort, this has made it a popular destination during the summer season, attracting about 10,000 visitors each year.
See Flechsig, Bad Elster (Leipzig, 1884).
See Flechsig, *Bad Elster* (Leipzig, 1884).
ELSWICK, a ward of the city of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, England, in the western part of the borough, bordering the river Tyne. The name is well known in connexion with the great ordnance and naval works of Sir W.G. Armstrong, Mitchell & Co. Elswick Park, attached to the old mansion of the same name, is now a public recreation ground.
ELSWICK is a neighborhood in Newcastle-upon-Tyne, England, located in the western part of the borough next to the river Tyne. The name is widely recognized due to the significant ordnance and naval works by Sir W.G. Armstrong, Mitchell & Co. Elswick Park, which is linked to the historic mansion of the same name, is now a public park for recreation.
EL TEB, a halting-place in the Anglo-Egyptian Sudan near the coast of the Red Sea, 9 m. S.W. of the port of Trinkitat on the road to Tokar. At El Teb, on the 4th of February 1884, a heterogeneous force under General Valentine Baker, marching to the relief of the Egyptian garrison of Tokar, was completely routed by the Mahdists (see Egypt: Military Operations).
EL TEB, a stopping point in the Anglo-Egyptian Sudan near the Red Sea coast, is located 9 miles southwest of the port of Trinkitat on the way to Tokar. On February 4, 1884, a diverse group led by General Valentine Baker, heading to support the Egyptian troops in Tokar, was completely defeated by the Mahdists (see Egypt: Military Operations).
ELTON, CHARLES ISAAC (1839-1900), English lawyer and antiquary, was born at Southampton on the 6th of December 1839. Educated at Cheltenham and Balliol College, Oxford, he was elected a fellow of Queen’s College in 1862. He was called to the bar at Lincoln’s Inn in 1865. His remarkable knowledge of old real property law and custom helped him to an extensive conveyancing practice and he took silk in 1885. He sat in the House of Commons for West Somerset in 1884-1885 and from 1886 to 1892. In 1869 he succeeded to his uncle’s property of Whitestaunton, near Chard, in Somerset. During the later years of his life he retired to a great extent from legal practice, and devoted much of his time to literary work. He died at Whitestaunton on the 23rd of April 1900. Elton’s principal works were The Tenures of Kent (1867); Treatise on Commons and Waste Lands (1868); Law of Copyholds (1874); Origins of English History (1882); Custom and Tenant Right (1882).
ELTON, CHARLES ISAAC (1839-1900), English lawyer and antiquary, was born in Southampton on December 6, 1839. He was educated at Cheltenham and Balliol College, Oxford, and became a fellow of Queen’s College in 1862. He was called to the bar at Lincoln’s Inn in 1865. His extensive knowledge of old real property law and customs led to a successful conveyancing practice, and he became a Queen's Counsel in 1885. He served in the House of Commons for West Somerset from 1884 to 1885 and again from 1886 to 1892. In 1869, he inherited his uncle’s estate in Whitestaunton, near Chard, in Somerset. In the later years of his life, he largely stepped back from legal practice to focus on his literary work. He passed away in Whitestaunton on April 23, 1900. Elton’s main works included The Tenures of Kent (1867); Treatise on Commons and Waste Lands (1868); Law of Copyholds (1874); Origins of English History (1882); Custom and Tenant Right (1882).
ELTVILLE (Elfeld), a town of Germany, in the Prussian province of Hesse-Nassau, on the right bank of the Rhine, 5 m. S.W. from Wiesbaden, on the railway Frankfort-on-Main-Cologne, and with a branch to Schlangenbad. Pop. 3700. It has a Roman Catholic and a Protestant church, ruins of a feudal castle, a Latin school, and a monument to Gutenberg. It has a considerable trade in the wines of the district and two manufactories of sparkling wines. Eltville (originally Adeldvile, Lat. Altavilla) is first mentioned in a record of the year 882. It was given by the emperor Otto I. to the archbishops of Mainz, who often resided here. It received town rights in 1331 and was a place of importance during the middle ages. In 1465 Gutenberg set up his press at Eltville, under the patronage of Archbishop Adolphus of Nassau, shortly afterwards handing over its use to the brothers Heinrich and Nikolaus Bechtermünz. Several costly early examples of printed books issued by this press survive, the earliest being the Vocabularium Latino-Teutonicum, first printed in 1467.
ELTVILLE (Elfeld), a town in Germany located in the Prussian province of Hesse-Nassau, sits on the right bank of the Rhine, 5 miles southwest of Wiesbaden, along the Frankfurt-on-Main to Cologne railway, with a branch line to Schlangenbad. Its population is 3,700. The town features a Roman Catholic church and a Protestant church, the ruins of a feudal castle, a Latin school, and a monument to Gutenberg. Eltville has a significant trade in local wines and is home to two sparkling wine factories. Eltville, originally known as Adeldvile (Latin: Altavilla), is first mentioned in records dating back to 882. Emperor Otto I granted it to the archbishops of Mainz, who frequently lived here. It was granted town rights in 1331 and was a significant location during the Middle Ages. In 1465, Gutenberg established his printing press in Eltville, with the support of Archbishop Adolphus of Nassau, and soon after transferred its use to the brothers Heinrich and Nikolaus Bechtermünz. Several expensive early printed books from this press still exist, the earliest being the Vocabularium Latino-Teutonicum, first printed in 1467.
ELTZ, a small river of Germany, a left bank tributary of the Mosel. It rises in the Eifel range, and, after a course of 5 m., joins the latter river at Moselkern. Just above its confluence stands the romantic castle of Eltz, crowning a rocky summit 900 ft. high, and famous as being one of the best preserved medieval strongholds of Germany. It is the ancestral seat of the counts of Eltz and contains numerous antiquities.
ELTZ, a small river in Germany, is a left bank tributary of the Mosel. It starts in the Eifel range and flows for 5 miles before joining the Mosel at Moselkern. Just above where it meets the Mosel stands the picturesque Eltz Castle, perched on a rocky summit 900 feet high, known as one of the best-preserved medieval fortresses in Germany. It serves as the ancestral home of the Counts of Eltz and is filled with many antiques.
See Roth, Geschichte der Herren und Grafen zu Eltz (2 vols., Mainz, 1889-1890).
See Roth, Geschichte der Herren und Grafen zu Eltz (2 vols., Mainz, 1889-1890).
ELVAS, an episcopal city and frontier fortress of Portugal, in the district of Portalegre and formerly included in the province of Alemtejo; 170 m. E. of Lisbon, and 10 m. W. of the Spanish fortress of Badajoz, by the Madrid-Badajoz-Lisbon railway. Pop. (1900) 13,981. Elvas is finely situated on a hill 5 m. N.W. of the river Guadiana. It is defended by seven bastions and the two forts of Santa Luzia and Nossa Senhora da Graça. Its late Gothic cathedral, which has also many traces of Moorish influence in its architecture, dates from the reign of Emmanuel I. (1495-1521). A fine aqueduct, 4 m. long, supplies the city with pure water; it was begun early in the 15th century and completed in 1622. For some distance it includes four tiers of superimposed arches, with a total height of 120 ft. The surrounding lowlands are very fertile, and Elvas is celebrated for its excellent olives and plums, the last-named being exported, either fresh or dried, in large quantities. Brandy is distilled and pottery manufactured in the city. The fortress of Campo Maior, 10 m. N.E., is famous for its siege by the French and relief by the British under Marshal Beresford in 1811—an exploit commemorated in a ballad by Sir Walter Scott.
ELVAS, an episcopal city and frontier fortress of Portugal, located in the Portalegre district and previously part of the Alemtejo province; 170 miles east of Lisbon, and 10 miles west of the Spanish fortress of Badajoz, accessible by the Madrid-Badajoz-Lisbon railway. Population (1900) was 13,981. Elvas is beautifully positioned on a hill 5 miles northwest of the Guadiana River. It is protected by seven bastions and the two forts of Santa Luzia and Nossa Senhora da Graça. The city's late Gothic cathedral, which also displays many Moorish architectural influences, dates back to the reign of Emmanuel I (1495-1521). A remarkable aqueduct, 4 miles long, supplies the city with clean water; construction began in the early 15th century and was completed in 1622. For part of its length, it features four levels of stacked arches, reaching a total height of 120 feet. The surrounding lowlands are highly fertile, and Elvas is famous for its excellent olives and plums, the latter of which are exported in large quantities, either fresh or dried. Brandy is distilled, and pottery is produced in the city. The fortress of Campo Maior, located 10 miles northeast, is well-known for its siege by the French and the relief effort by the British under Marshal Beresford in 1811—an event immortalized in a ballad by Sir Walter Scott.
Elvas is the Roman Alpesa or Helvas, the Moorish Balesh, the Spanish Yelves. It was wrested from the Moors by Alphonso VIII. of Castile in 1166; but was temporarily recaptured 301 before its final occupation by the Portuguese in 1226. In 1570 it became an episcopal see. From 1642 until modern times it was the chief frontier fortress S. of the Tagus; and it twice withstood sieges by the Spanish, in 1658 and 1711. The French under Marshal Junot took it in March 1808, but evacuated it in August, after the conclusion of the convention of Cintra (see Peninsular War).
Elvas is the Roman Alpesa or Helvas, the Moorish Balesh, and the Spanish Yelves. It was taken from the Moors by Alfonso VIII of Castile in 1166; however, it was temporarily recaptured before the Portuguese finally occupied it in 1226. In 1570, it became an episcopal see. From 1642 until modern times, it was the main frontier fortress south of the Tagus River and successfully withstood sieges by the Spanish in 1658 and 1711. The French, led by Marshal Junot, captured it in March 1808 but evacuated in August after the signing of the convention of Cintra (see Peninsular War).
ELVEY, SIR GEORGE JOB (1816-1893), English organist and composer, was born at Canterbury on the 27th of March 1816. He was a chorister at Canterbury cathedral under Highmore Skeats, the organist. Subsequently he became a pupil of his elder brother, Stephen, and then studied at the Royal Academy of Music under Cipriani Potter and Dr Crotch. In 1834 he gained the Gresham prize medal for his anthem, “Bow down thine ear,” and in 1835 was appointed organist of St George’s chapel, Windsor, a post he filled for 47 years, retiring in 1882. He took the degree of Mus. B. at Oxford in 1838, and in 1840 that of Mus. D. Anthems of his were commissioned for the Three Choirs Festivals of 1853 and 1857, and in 1871 he received the honour of knighthood. He died at Windlesham in Surrey on the 9th of December 1893. His works, which are nearly all for the Church, include two oratorios, a great number of anthems and services, and some pieces for the organ. A memoir of him, by his widow, was published in 1894.
ELVEY, SIR GEORGE JOB (1816-1893), an English organist and composer, was born in Canterbury on March 27, 1816. He was a chorister at Canterbury Cathedral under organist Highmore Skeats. Later, he became a student of his older brother, Stephen, and then studied at the Royal Academy of Music under Cipriani Potter and Dr. Crotch. In 1834, he won the Gresham prize medal for his anthem, “Bow down thine ear,” and in 1835, he was appointed organist of St. George’s Chapel, Windsor, a position he held for 47 years until he retired in 1882. He received his Mus. B. degree from Oxford in 1838, followed by his Mus. D. in 1840. His anthems were commissioned for the Three Choirs Festivals in 1853 and 1857, and he was knighted in 1871. He passed away in Windlesham, Surrey, on December 9, 1893. His works, which are mostly for the Church, include two oratorios, numerous anthems and services, and several pieces for organ. A memoir about him, written by his widow, was published in 1894.
ELVIRA, SYNOD OF, an ecclesiastical synod held in Spain, the date of which cannot be determined with exactness. The solution of the question hinges upon the interpretation of the canons, that is, upon whether they are to be taken as reflecting a recent, or as pointing to an imminent, persecution. Thus some argue for a date between 300 and 303, i.e. before the Diocletian persecution; others for a date between 303 and 314, after the persecution, but before the synod of Arles; still others for a date between the synod of Arles and the council of Nicaea, 325. Mansi, Hardouin, Hefele and Dale are in substantial agreement upon 305 or 306, and this is probably the closest approximation possible in the present state of the evidence. The place of meeting, Elvira, was not far from the modern Granada, if not, as Dale thinks, actually identical with it. There the nineteen bishops and twenty-four presbyters, from all parts of Spain, but chiefly from the south, assembled, probably at the instigation of Hosius of Cordova, but under the presidency of Felix of Accis, with a view to restoring order and discipline in the church. The eighty-one canons which were adopted reflect with considerable fulness the internal life and external relations of the Spanish Church of the 4th century. The social environment of Christians may be inferred from the canons prohibiting marriage and other intercourse with Jews, pagans and heretics, closing the offices of flamen and duumvir to Christians, forbidding all contact with idolatry and likewise participation in pagan festivals and public games. The state of morals is mirrored in the canons denouncing prevalent vices. The canons respecting the clergy exhibit the clergy as already a special class with peculiar privileges, a more exacting moral standard, heavier penalties for delinquency. The bishop has acquired control of the sacraments, presbyters and deacons acting only under his orders; the episcopate appears as a unit, bishops being bound to respect one another’s disciplinary decrees. Worthy of special note are canon 33, enjoining celibacy upon all clerics and all who minister at the altar (the most ancient canon of celibacy); canon 36, forbidding pictures in churches; canon 38, permitting lay baptism under certain conditions; and canon 53, forbidding one bishop to restore a person excommunicated by another.
ELVIRA, SYNOD OF, an ecclesiastical synod held in Spain, the exact date of which is unclear. The determination of the date depends on interpreting the canons, specifically whether they reflect a recent persecution or suggest an imminent one. Some argue for a date between 300 and 303, i.e. before the Diocletian persecution; others propose a date between 303 and 314, after the persecution but before the synod of Arles; still others suggest a date between the synod of Arles and the council of Nicaea in 325. Mansi, Hardouin, Hefele, and Dale largely agree on 305 or 306, which is probably the best estimate we can make given the current evidence. The meeting took place in Elvira, not far from modern Granada, and perhaps, as Dale believes, is actually the same location. There, nineteen bishops and twenty-four presbyters from all parts of Spain, primarily from the south, gathered, likely prompted by Hosius of Cordova, and under the leadership of Felix of Accis, to restore order and discipline in the church. The eighty-one canons adopted provide a comprehensive view of the internal life and external relations of the Spanish Church in the 4th century. The social context for Christians can be inferred from the canons that prohibit marriage and any relations with Jews, pagans, and heretics, close political offices like flamen and duumvir to Christians, and forbid all engagement with idolatry, as well as participation in pagan festivals and public games. The state of morals is reflected in the canons condemning widespread vices. The canons regarding the clergy show that the clergy had already become a distinct class with unique privileges, a stricter moral code, and harsher penalties for wrongdoing. The bishop has gained control over the sacraments, with presbyters and deacons acting only under his direction; the episcopate appears as a unity, requiring bishops to respect one another’s disciplinary decisions. Noteworthy are canon 33, which mandates celibacy for all clergy and those serving at the altar (the earliest canon on celibacy); canon 36, which prohibits images in churches; canon 38, which allows lay baptism under certain conditions; and canon 53, which prevents one bishop from reinstating someone excommunicated by another.
See Mansi ii. pp. 1-406; Hardouin i. pp. 247-258; Hefele (2nd ed.) i. pp. 148 sqq. (English translation, i. pp. 131 sqq.); Dale, The Synod of Elvira (London, 1882); and Hennecke, in Herzog-Hauck, Realencyklopädie (3rd ed.), s.v. “Elvira,” especially bibliography.
See Mansi ii. pp. 1-406; Hardouin i. pp. 247-258; Hefele (2nd ed.) i. pp. 148 and following (English translation, i. pp. 131 and following); Dale, The Synod of Elvira (London, 1882); and Hennecke, in Herzog-Hauck, Realencyklopädie (3rd ed.), s.v. “Elvira,” especially bibliography.
EL WAD, a town in the Algerian Sahara, 125 m. in a straight line S.S.E. of Biskra, and 190 m. W. by S. of Gabes. Pop. (1906) 7586. El Wad is one of the most interesting places in Algeria. It is surrounded by huge hollows containing noble palm groves; and beyond these on every side stretches the limitless desert with its great billows of sand, the encroachments of which on the oasis are only held at bay by ceaseless toil. The town itself consists of a mass of one-storeyed stone houses, each surmounted by a little dome, clustering round the market-place with its mosque and minaret. By an exception rare in Saharan settlements, there are no defensive works save the fort containing the government offices, which the French have built on the south side of the town. The inhabitants are of two distinct tribes, one, the Aduan, of Berber stock, the other a branch of the Sha`ambah Arabs. El Wad possesses a curious currency known as flous, consisting of obsolete copper coins of Algerian and Tunisian dynasties. Seven flous are regarded as equal to the French five-centime piece.
EL WAD is a town in the Algerian Sahara, located 125 km S.S.E. of Biskra and 190 km W. by S. of Gabes. Population (1906) 7,586. El Wad is one of the most interesting places in Algeria. It's surrounded by large depressions filled with beautiful palm groves; beyond these, the endless desert stretches out, with its rolling sand dunes encroaching on the oasis, which are kept at bay only by constant effort. The town itself is made up of a cluster of single-story stone houses, each topped with a small dome, surrounding the market square that features a mosque and a minaret. Unusually for Saharan settlements, there are no defensive structures except for the fort on the south side of the town, which houses the government offices built by the French. The residents belong to two distinct tribes: one is the Aduan, of Berber origin, and the other is a branch of the Sha`ambah Arabs. El Wad has a unique currency called flous, made up of outdated copper coins from Algerian and Tunisian dynasties. Seven flous are considered equivalent to a French five-cent piece.
El Wad oasis is one of a group known collectively as the Suf. Five miles N.W. is Kuinine (pop. 3541) and 6 m. farther N.W. Guemar (pop. 6885), an ancient fortified town noted for its manufacture of carpets. Linen weaving is carried on extensively in the Suf. Administratively El Wad is the capital of an annexe to the territory of Tuggurt.
El Wad oasis is part of a group known as the Suf. Five miles northwest is Kuinine (population 3541) and another six miles further northwest is Guemar (population 6885), an old fortified town famous for its carpet making. Linen weaving is widely practiced in the Suf. Administratively, El Wad serves as the capital of an annex to the Tuggurt region.
ELWOOD, a city of Madison county, Indiana, U.S.A., on Duck Creek, about 38 m. N.E. of Indianapolis. Pop. (1880) 751; (1890) 2284; (1900) 12,950 (1386 foreign-born); (1910) 11,028. Elwood is served by the Lake Erie & Western and the Pittsburg, Cincinnati, Chicago & St Louis railways, and by an interurban electric line. Its rapid growth in population and as a manufacturing centre was due largely to its situation in the natural gas region; the failure of the gas supply in 1903 caused a decrease in manufacturing, but the city gradually adjusted itself to new conditions. It has large tin plate mills, iron and steel foundries, saw and planing mills, wooden-ware and furniture factories, bottling works and lamp-chimney factories, flour mills and packing houses. In 1905 the value of the city’s factory product was $6,111,083; in 1900 it was $9,433,513; the glass product was valued at $223,766 in 1905, and at $1,011,803 in 1900. There are extensive brick-yards in the vicinity, and the surrounding agricultural country furnishes large supplies of grain, live-stock, poultry and produce, for which Elwood is the shipping centre. The site was first settled under the name of Quincy; the present name was adopted in 1869; and in 1891 Elwood received a city charter.
ELWOOD is a city in Madison County, Indiana, USA, located on Duck Creek, about 38 miles northeast of Indianapolis. Its population was 751 in 1880, 2,284 in 1890, 12,950 (including 1,386 foreign-born) in 1900, and 11,028 in 1910. Elwood is served by the Lake Erie & Western and the Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, Chicago & St. Louis railways, along with an interurban electric line. The city’s rapid growth in population and as a manufacturing hub was largely due to its location in the natural gas region; however, the gas supply's failure in 1903 led to a decline in manufacturing, though the city gradually adapted to new conditions. It has large tin plate mills, iron and steel foundries, saw and planing mills, wooden-ware and furniture factories, bottling works and lamp-chimney factories, as well as flour mills and packing houses. In 1905, the value of the city’s factory production was $6,111,083, down from $9,433,513 in 1900; the glass product was valued at $223,766 in 1905, compared to $1,011,803 in 1900. There are extensive brick yards in the area, and the surrounding agricultural land provides large supplies of grain, livestock, poultry, and produce, for which Elwood serves as the shipping center. The site was first settled under the name Quincy; the current name was adopted in 1869, and Elwood received a city charter in 1891.
ELY, RICHARD THEODORE (1854- ), American economist, was born at Ripley, New York, on the 13th of April 1854. Educated at Columbia and Heidelberg universities, he held the professorship of economics at Johns Hopkins University from 1881 to 1892, and was subsequently professor of economics at Wisconsin University. Professor Ely took an active part in the formation of the American Economic Association, was secretary from 1885 to 1892 and president from 1899 to 1901. He published a useful Introduction to Political Economy (1889); Outlines of Economics (1893); The Labour Movement in America (1883); Problems of To-day (1888); Social Aspects of Christianity (1889); Socialism and Social Reform (1894); Monopolies and Trusts (1900), and Studies in the Evolution of Industrial Society (1903).
ELY, RICHARD THEODORE (1854- ), American economist, was born in Ripley, New York, on April 13, 1854. He studied at Columbia and Heidelberg universities and served as a professor of economics at Johns Hopkins University from 1881 to 1892, later becoming a professor of economics at the University of Wisconsin. Professor Ely actively participated in establishing the American Economic Association, serving as secretary from 1885 to 1892 and president from 1899 to 1901. He published several significant works including Introduction to Political Economy (1889); Outlines of Economics (1893); The Labour Movement in America (1883); Problems of To-day (1888); Social Aspects of Christianity (1889); Socialism and Social Reform (1894); Monopolies and Trusts (1900); and Studies in the Evolution of Industrial Society (1903).
ELY, a cathedral city and market-town, in the Newmarket parliamentary division of Cambridgeshire, England, 16 m. N.N.E. of Cambridge by the Great Eastern railway. Pop. of urban district (1901) 7713. It stands on a considerable eminence on the west (left) bank of the Ouse, in the Isle of Ely, which rises above the surrounding fens. Thus its situation, before the great drainage operations of the 17th century, was practically insular. The magnificent cathedral, towering above the town, is a landmark far over the wide surrounding level. The soil in the vicinity is fertile and market-gardening is carried on, fruit and vegetables (especially asparagus) being sent to the London markets. The town has a considerable manufacture of tobacco pipes and earthenware, and there are in the neighbourhood mills for the preparation of oil from flax, hemp and cole-seed. Besides the cathedral Ely has in St Mary’s church, lying almost under the shadow of the greater building, a fine structure ranging in style from Norman to Perpendicular, but in the main Early English. The sessions house and corn exchange are the 302 principal public buildings. The grammar school, founded by Henry VIII. in 1541, occupies (together with other buildings) the room over the gateway of the monastery, known as the Porta, and the chapel built by Prior John de Cranden (1321-1341) is restored to use as a school chapel. A theological college was founded in 1876 and opened in 1881.
ELY is a cathedral city and market town located in the Newmarket parliamentary division of Cambridgeshire, England, 16 miles N.N.E. of Cambridge by the Great Eastern railway. The population of the urban district was 7,713 in 1901. It sits on a noticeable hill on the west (left) bank of the Ouse, in the Isle of Ely, which rises above the surrounding wetlands. Before the major drainage projects of the 17th century, its location was almost isolated. The stunning cathedral, which looms over the town, serves as a landmark across the vast surrounding flatlands. The local soil is fertile, and market gardening is prevalent, with fruits and vegetables—especially asparagus—shipped to the London markets. The town has a significant tobacco pipe and earthenware manufacturing industry, and there are local mills for extracting oil from flax, hemp, and cole seed. In addition to the cathedral, Ely is home to St Mary’s Church, which lies almost beneath the larger building, featuring an impressive design that ranges from Norman to Perpendicular, primarily in the Early English style. The main public buildings include the sessions house and corn exchange. The grammar school, established by Henry VIII in 1541, is located (along with other buildings) in the room over the monastery's gateway, known as the Porta, and the chapel built by Prior John de Cranden (1321-1341) has been restored for use as a school chapel. A theological college was established in 1876 and opened in 1881.
The foundation of the present cathedral was laid by its first Norman abbot, Simeon, in 1083. But the reputation of Ely had been established long before Etheldreda (Æthelthryth), daughter of Anna, king of East Anglia, was married to Ecgfrith, king of Northumbria, against her will, as she had vowed herself wholly to a religious life. Her husband opposed himself to her vow, but with the help of Wilfrid, archbishop of York, she took the veil, and found refuge from her husband in the marsh-girt Isle of Ely. Here she founded a religious house, in all probability a mixed community, in 673, becoming its first abbess, and giving the whole Isle of Ely to the foundation. In 870 the monastery was destroyed by the Danes, as were also the neighbouring foundations at Soham, Thorney, Crowland and Peterborough, and it remained in ruins till 970, when Æthelwold, bishop of Winchester, founded a new Benedictine monastery here. King Edgar in 970 endowed the monks with the former possessions of the convent and also granted them the secular causes of two hundreds within and of five hundreds without the marshes, all charges belonging to the king in secular disputes in all their lands and every fourth penny of public revenue in the province of Grantecestre. The wealth and importance of Ely rose, and its abbots held the post of chancellors of the king’s court alternately with the abbots of Glastonbury and of St Augustine’s, Canterbury. But Ely again became a scene of contest in the desperate final struggle against William the Conqueror of which Hereward “the Wake” was the hero. Finally, in 1071, the monks agreed to surrender the Isle of Ely to the king on condition of the confirmation of all the possessions and privileges, held by them in the time of Edward the Confessor. Abbot Simeon (1081-1094), who now began the reconstruction of the church, was related to William and brother to Walkelin, first Norman bishop of Winchester. Under Abbot Richard (1100-1107) the translation from the Saxon church of the bodies of St Etheldreda and of the two abbesses who had followed her, and their enshrinement in the new edifice, took place; and it was due to the honour in which the memory of the foundresses was held that Ely maintained the position of dignity which it kept henceforth until the dissolution of the monasteries. The feast of St Etheldreda, or St Awdrey as she was generally called, was the occasion every year for a large fair here, at which “trifling objects” were sold to pilgrims by way of souvenirs; whence the word “tawdrey,” a contraction of St Awdrey. In 1109 the Isle of Ely, most of Cambridgeshire, and the abbeys of Thorney and Cetricht were separated from the diocese of Lincoln, and converted into a new diocese, Ely being the seat of the bishopric, and after the dissolution of the monasteries Henry VIII. converted the conventual church into a cathedral (1541). The diocese is extensive. It covers nearly the whole of Cambridgeshire, Huntingdonshire and Bedfordshire, part of Suffolk, and small portions of Essex, Norfolk, Northamptonshire, Hertfordshire and Buckinghamshire.
The foundation of the current cathedral was established by its first Norman abbot, Simeon, in 1083. However, the renown of Ely had been built long before Etheldreda (Æthelthryth), daughter of Anna, the king of East Anglia, was forced into marriage with Ecgfrith, the king of Northumbria, going against her vow to dedicate herself entirely to a religious life. Her husband challenged her vow, but with the help of Wilfrid, the archbishop of York, she became a nun and found sanctuary from her husband in the marsh-surrounded Isle of Ely. Here, in 673, she founded a religious community, likely a mixed one, becoming its first abbess and dedicating the entire Isle of Ely to this new foundation. In 870, the monastery was destroyed by the Danes, as were the nearby foundations at Soham, Thorney, Crowland, and Peterborough, and it remained in ruins until 970, when Æthelwold, the bishop of Winchester, established a new Benedictine monastery there. King Edgar, in 970, provided the monks with the previous possessions of the convent and also granted them the secular entitlements of two hundreds within and five hundreds outside the marshes, along with the king's rights in civil disputes across all their lands and every fourth penny of public revenue in the province of Grantecestre. The prosperity and significance of Ely grew, and its abbots alternated in the role of chancellors of the king’s court with the abbots of Glastonbury and St Augustine’s in Canterbury. However, Ely once again became a battleground in the fierce last stand against William the Conqueror, with Hereward “the Wake” as the hero. In 1071, the monks ultimately agreed to hand over the Isle of Ely to the king, provided that all their claims and privileges from the time of Edward the Confessor were confirmed. Abbot Simeon (1081-1094), who began the church’s reconstruction, was related to William and the brother of Walkelin, the first Norman bishop of Winchester. Under Abbot Richard (1100-1107), the bodies of St Etheldreda and the two abbesses who succeeded her were translated from the Saxon church and enshrined in the new building; it was due to the respect held for the founders that Ely maintained its esteemed position until the monasteries were dissolved. The feast of St Etheldreda, or St Awdrey as she was commonly known, became an annual occasion for a large fair here, where “trivial items” were sold to pilgrims as souvenirs, giving rise to the term “tawdrey,” a contraction of St Awdrey. In 1109, the Isle of Ely, most of Cambridgeshire, and the abbeys of Thorney and Cetricht were separated from the diocese of Lincoln and established as a new diocese, with Ely as the bishopric's seat. After the monasteries were dissolved, Henry VIII converted the conventual church into a cathedral (1541). The diocese is large, encompassing nearly all of Cambridgeshire, Huntingdonshire, and Bedfordshire, parts of Suffolk, and small portions of Essex, Norfolk, Northamptonshire, Hertfordshire, and Buckinghamshire.
The cathedral is a cruciform structure, 537 ft. long and 190 ft. across the great transepts (exterior measurements). A relic of the Saxon foundation is preserved in the cross of St Osyth (c. 670), and a pre-Norman window is kept in the triforium, having been dug up near the cathedral. Of the work of the first two Norman abbots all that remains is the early Norman lower storey of the main transept. The foundations of Abbot Simeon’s apse were discovered below the present choir. The nave, which is Norman throughout, is 208 ft. in length, 72 ft. 9 in. to the top of the walls, and 77 ft. 3 in. broad, including the aisles. The upper parts of the western tower and the transept were begun by Bishop Geoffrey Ridel (d. 1189), and continued by his successor William Longchamp, chancellor of England. The tower, which is 215 ft. high, is surmounted by a Decorated octagon with partly detached side turrets, and underwent alteration and strengthening in the Perpendicular period. The north-western transept wing is in ruins; it is not known when it fell. The Galilee, or western porch, by which the cathedral is entered, is the work of Bishop Eustace (d. 1215), and is a perfect example of Early English style. In 1322 the Norman central tower, erected by Abbot Simeon, fell. Alan of Walsingham, sacrist of the church, designed its restoration in the form of the present octagon, a beautiful and unique conception. Instead of the ordinary four-arched central crossing, an octagon is formed at the crossing, the arches of the nave aisles and choir aisles being set obliquely. Both without and within, the octagon is the principal feature in the unusual general appearance of the cathedral, which gives it a peculiar eminence among English churches. The octagon was completed in 1328, and upon the ribbed vaulting of wood above it rose the lofty lantern, octagonal also, with its angles set opposite those of the octagon below. The total height of the structure is 170 ft. 7 in. Alan of Walsingham was further employed by Bishop John of Hotham (d. 1337) as architect of the Lady chapel, a beautiful example of Decorated work, which served from 1566 onward as a parish church. Of the seven bays of the choir the four easternmost, as well as the two beyond forming the retrochoir, were built by Bishop Hugh of Northwold (d. 1254). The three western bays were destroyed by the fall of the tower in 1321, and were rebuilt by Alan of Walsingham. The earlier portion is a superb example of Early English work, while the later is perhaps the best example of pure Decorated in England. The wooden canopies of the choir stalls are Decorated (1337) and very elaborate. The Perpendicular style is represented by windows and certain other details, including supporting arches to the western tower. There are also some splendid chantry chapels and tombs in this style—the chapels of Bishop John Alcock (d. 1500) and Bishop Nicolas West (d. 1534), in the north and south choir aisles respectively, are completely covered with the most delicate ornamentation; while the tomb of Bishop Richard Redman (d. 1505) has a remarkably beautiful canopy. Among earlier monuments the canopied tomb of Bishop William de Luda (1290-1298) and the finely-carved effigy of Bishop Northwold (1254) are notable. Between 1845 and 1884 the cathedral underwent restoration under the direction of Sir Gilbert Scott. The work included the erection of the modern reredos and choir-screen, both designed by Scott, and the painting of the nave roof by Styleman le Strange (d. 1862), who was succeeded by Gambier Parry. Parry also richly ornamented the octagon and lantern in the style of the 14th century.
The cathedral has a cross-shaped design, measuring 537 feet long and 190 feet wide across the large transepts (exterior measurements). A relic from the Saxon era is preserved in the cross of St. Osyth (around 670), and a pre-Norman window is kept in the triforium, which was found near the cathedral. The only remnants of the work from the first two Norman abbots are the early Norman lower level of the main transept. The foundations of Abbot Simeon’s apse were found below the current choir. The nave, which is entirely Norman, is 208 feet long, 72 feet 9 inches high to the top of the walls, and 77 feet 3 inches wide, including the aisles. The upper portions of the western tower and transept were started by Bishop Geoffrey Ridel (d. 1189) and completed by his successor William Longchamp, chancellor of England. The tower, which is 215 feet tall, is topped with a Decorated octagon featuring partially detached side turrets, and it underwent modifications and reinforcement during the Perpendicular period. The northwestern transept wing is in ruins; the time it collapsed is unknown. The Galilee, or western porch, used to enter the cathedral, was built by Bishop Eustace (d. 1215) and is a perfect example of the Early English style. In 1322, the Norman central tower, built by Abbot Simeon, collapsed. Alan of Walsingham, the church's sacrist, designed its restoration as the present octagon, which is a beautiful and unique design. Instead of the usual four-arched central crossing, it features an octagon at the crossing, with the arches of the nave aisles and choir aisles set at angles. Both outside and inside, the octagon is the main characteristic of the unusual overall look of the cathedral, giving it a distinctive prominence among English churches. The octagon was finished in 1328, and above the ribbed wooden vaulting rose a tall octagonal lantern, with its angles aligned opposite those of the octagon below. The total height of the structure is 170 feet 7 inches. Alan of Walsingham was later appointed by Bishop John of Hotham (d. 1337) as the architect for the Lady chapel, a lovely example of Decorated work, which has served as a parish church since 1566. Of the seven bays of the choir, the four easternmost ones, along with the two beyond that make up the retrochoir, were constructed by Bishop Hugh of Northwold (d. 1254). The three western bays were destroyed when the tower fell in 1321 and were rebuilt by Alan of Walsingham. The earlier section is a stunning example of Early English style, while the later part might be the best example of pure Decorated style in England. The wooden canopies of the choir stalls are Decorated (1337) and quite elaborate. The Perpendicular style is represented by windows and some other details, including supporting arches for the western tower. There are also some magnificent chantry chapels and tombs in this style—such as those of Bishop John Alcock (d. 1500) and Bishop Nicolas West (d. 1534) in the north and south choir aisles, both bedecked with intricate ornamentation. Additionally, the tomb of Bishop Richard Redman (d. 1505) features an exceptionally beautiful canopy. Among the earlier monuments, the canopied tomb of Bishop William de Luda (1290-1298) and the finely carved effigy of Bishop Northwold (1254) stand out. Between 1845 and 1884, the cathedral underwent restoration under the guidance of Sir Gilbert Scott. The work included the construction of the modern reredos and choir screen, both designed by Scott, and the painting of the nave roof by Styleman le Strange (d. 1862), who was succeeded by Gambier Parry. Parry also richly decorated the octagon and lantern in a 14th-century style.
Remains of the monastic buildings are fragmentary but numerous. Mention has been made of the Ely “Porta” or gateway (1396), which is occupied by the grammar school, and of Prior John de Cranden’s beautiful little Decorated chapel. But many of the remains, the bulk of which are incorporated in the deanery and canons’ and other residences to the south of the cathedral, are of much earlier date. Thus the fine early Norman undercroft of the prior’s hall is probably of the time of Abbot Simeon. Another notable fragment is the transitional Norman chancel of the infirmary chapel. The remnants of the cloisters show a reconstruction in the 15th century, but the prior’s and monks’ doorways from the cloisters into the cathedral are highly decorated late Norman. The bishop’s palace to the west of the cathedral has towers erected by Bishop Alcock at the close of the 15th century. In the muniment room of the chapter is preserved, among many ancient documents of great interest, the liber Eliensis, a history of the monastery by the monk known as Thomas of Ely (d. c. 1174), of which the first part, which extends to the year 960, contains a life of St Etheldreda, while the second is continued to the year 1107.
Remnants of the monastery buildings are scattered but plentiful. We've already mentioned the Ely “Porta” or gateway (1396), which is now home to the grammar school, and Prior John de Cranden’s beautiful little Decorated chapel. However, many of the remains, most of which are now part of the deanery and residences of canons and others to the south of the cathedral, date back much earlier. For instance, the impressive early Norman undercroft of the prior’s hall likely dates from the time of Abbot Simeon. Another notable piece is the transitional Norman chancel of the infirmary chapel. The remains of the cloisters show a reconstruction from the 15th century, but the prior’s and monks’ doorways from the cloisters into the cathedral are richly decorated late Norman. The bishop’s palace to the west of the cathedral features towers built by Bishop Alcock at the end of the 15th century. In the muniment room of the chapter, among many ancient documents of great interest, is the liber Eliensis, a history of the monastery written by the monk known as Thomas of Ely (d. c. 1174). The first part, which goes up to the year 960, includes a life of St Etheldreda, while the second part continues until the year 1107.
Ely, which according to Bede (Hist. eccl. iv. 19) derives its name from the quantity of eels in the waters about it (A.S. æl, eel, -ig, island), was a borough by prescription at least as early as the reign of William the Conqueror. It owed its importance entirely to the monastery, and for a long time the abbot and afterwards the bishop had almost absolute power in the town. The bailiff who governed the town was chosen by the bishop until 1850, when a local board was appointed. Richard I. 303 granted the bishop of Ely a fair there, and in 1319-1320 John of Hotham, a later bishop, received licence to hold a fair on the vigil and day of Ascension and for twenty days following. The markets are claimed by an undated charter by the bishop, who also continues to hold the fairs. In 1295 Ely sent two members to parliament, but has never been represented since.
Ely, which Bede mentions (Hist. eccl. iv. 19) gets its name from the abundance of eels in the nearby waters (A.S. æl, eel, -ig, island), was a borough by tradition at least as far back as the reign of William the Conqueror. Its significance came entirely from the monastery, and for a long time the abbot and later the bishop had almost total control over the town. The bailiff who managed the town was selected by the bishop until 1850, when a local board took over. Richard I. 303 granted the bishop of Ely a fair, and in 1319-1320, John of Hotham, a subsequent bishop, received permission to hold a fair on the vigil and day of Ascension and for twenty days afterward. The markets are claimed by an undated charter from the bishop, who still holds the fairs. In 1295, Ely sent two representatives to parliament, but it has not been represented since then.
See C.W. Stubbs, Ely Cathedral (London, 1897); Victoria County History, Cambridgeshire.
See C.W. Stubbs, Ely Cathedral (London, 1897); Victoria County History, Cambridgeshire.
ELYOT, SIR THOMAS (c. 1490-1546), English diplomatist and scholar. His father, Sir Richard Elyot (d. 1522), who held considerable estates in Wiltshire, was made (1503) serjeant-at-law and attorney-general to the queen consort, and soon afterwards was commissioned to act as justice of assize on the western circuit, becoming in 1513 judge of common pleas. Thomas was the son of his first marriage with Alice Fynderne, but neither the date nor place of his birth is accurately known. Anthony à Wood claimed him as an alumnus of St Mary Hall, Oxford, while C.H. Cooper in the Athenae Cantabrigienses put in a claim for Jesus College, Cambridge. Elyot himself says in the preface to his Dictionary that he was educated under the paternal roof, and was from the age of twelve his own tutor. He supplies, in the introduction to his Castell of Helth, a list of the authors he had read in philosophy and medicine, adding that a “worshipful physician” read to him Galen and some other authors. In 1511 he accompanied his father on the western circuit as clerk to the assize, and he held this position until 1528. In addition to his father’s lands in Wiltshire and Oxfordshire he inherited in 1523 the Cambridge estates of his cousin, Thomas Fynderne. His title was disputed, but Wolsey decided in his favour, and also made him clerk of the privy council. Elyot, in a letter addressed to Thomas Cromwell, says that he never received the emoluments of this office, while the barren honour of knighthood conferred on him when he was displaced in 1530 merely put him to further expense. In that year he sat on the commission appointed to inquire into the Cambridgeshire estates of his former patron, Cardinal Wolsey. He married Margaret Barrow, who is described (Stapleton, Vita Thomae Mori, p. 59, ed. 1558) as a student in the “school” of Sir Thomas More.
ELYOT, SIR THOMAS (c. 1490-1546), was an English diplomat and scholar. His father, Sir Richard Elyot (d. 1522), owned significant estates in Wiltshire and was appointed serjeant-at-law and attorney-general to the queen consort in 1503. Soon after, he was commissioned as a justice of assize on the western circuit and became a judge of common pleas in 1513. Thomas was the son from his father's first marriage to Alice Fynderne, but the exact date and place of his birth are not precisely known. Anthony à Wood claimed he was an alumnus of St Mary Hall, Oxford, while C.H. Cooper, in the Athenae Cantabrigienses, argued he studied at Jesus College, Cambridge. Elyot himself stated in the preface to his Dictionary that he was educated at home and tutored himself from the age of twelve. In the introduction to his Castell of Helth, he listed the philosophers and medical authors he had studied, noting that a “worshipful physician” read Galen and other texts to him. In 1511, he joined his father as a clerk for the assize on the western circuit, holding this role until 1528. In addition to inheriting his father's lands in Wiltshire and Oxfordshire, he also inherited the Cambridge estates of his cousin, Thomas Fynderne, in 1523. His claim was contested, but Wolsey ruled in his favor and appointed him clerk of the privy council. Elyot mentioned in a letter to Thomas Cromwell that he never received any compensation for this position, and the knighthood he received when he was dismissed in 1530 only added to his expenses. That same year, he served on the commission investigating the Cambridgeshire estates of his former patron, Cardinal Wolsey. He married Margaret Barrow, who is described (Stapleton, Vita Thomae Mori, p. 59, ed. 1558) as a student in the “school” of Sir Thomas More.
In 1531 he produced the Boke named the Governour, dedicated to King Henry VIII. The work advanced him in the king’s favour, and in the close of the year he received instructions to proceed to the court of the emperor Charles V. to induce him to take a more favourable view of Henry’s projected divorce from Catherine of Aragon. With this was combined another commission, on which one of the king’s agents, Stephen Vaughan, was already engaged. He was, if possible, to apprehend William Tyndale. It is probable that Elyot was suspected, as Vaughan certainly was, of lukewarmness in carrying out the king’s wishes, but this has not prevented his being much abused by Protestant writers. As ambassador Elyot had been involved in ruinous expense, and on his return he wrote to Thomas Cromwell, begging to be excused from serving as sheriff of Cambridgeshire and Huntingdonshire, on the score of his poverty. The request was not granted. He was one of the commissioners in the inquiry instituted by Cromwell prior to the suppression of the monasteries, but he did not obtain any share of the spoils. There is little doubt that his known friendship for Thomas More militated against his chances of success, for in a letter addressed to Cromwell he admitted his friendship for More, but protested that he rated higher his duty to the king. William Roper, in his Life of More, says that Elyot was on a second embassy to Charles V., in the winter of 1535-1536, when he received at Naples the news of More’s execution. He had been kept in the dark by his own government, but heard the news from the emperor. The story of an earlier embassy to Rome (1532), mentioned by Burnet, rests on a late endorsement of instructions dated from that year, which cannot be regarded as authoritative. In 1542 he represented the borough of Cambridge in parliament. He had purchased from Cromwell the manor of Carleton in Cambridgeshire, where he died on the 26th of March 1546.
In 1531, he published the Boke named the Governour, dedicated to King Henry VIII. This work gained him favor with the king, and by the end of the year, he was instructed to go to the court of Emperor Charles V to persuade him to have a more favorable view of Henry’s plan to divorce Catherine of Aragon. Along with this task, he was also involved in another mission, where one of the king’s agents, Stephen Vaughan, was already working. He was to try, if possible, to capture William Tyndale. It’s likely that Elyot was suspected, as Vaughan certainly was, of not being fully committed to carrying out the king’s requests, but that hasn’t stopped Protestant writers from criticizing him harshly. As an ambassador, Elyot incurred significant expenses, and upon his return, he wrote to Thomas Cromwell, asking to be excused from serving as sheriff of Cambridgeshire and Huntingdonshire due to his financial difficulties. His request was denied. He was one of the commissioners in the investigation set up by Cromwell before the monasteries were suppressed, but he didn’t receive any of the spoils. There’s little doubt that his known friendship with Thomas More worked against his chances of success, as he admitted in a letter to Cromwell that he valued his friendship with More, but insisted that his duty to the king was more important. William Roper, in his Life of More, states that Elyot was on a second mission to Charles V during the winter of 1535-1536 when he received the news of More’s execution in Naples. He had been kept uninformed by his own government but learned about it from the emperor. The account of an earlier mission to Rome in 1532 cited by Burnet is based on a later confirmation of instructions from that year, which isn’t considered authoritative. In 1542, he represented the borough of Cambridge in parliament. He had bought the manor of Carleton in Cambridgeshire from Cromwell, where he died on March 26, 1546.
Sir Thomas Elyot received little reward for his services to the state, but his scholarship and his books were held in high esteem by his contemporaries. The Boke named the Governour was printed by Thomas Berthelet (1531, 1534, 1536, 1544, &c.). It is a treatise on moral philosophy, intended to direct the education of those destined to fill high positions, and to inculcate those moral principles which alone could fit them for the performance of their duties. The subject was a favourite one in the 16th century, and the book, which contained many citations from classical authors, was very popular. Elyot expressly acknowledges his obligations to Erasmus’s Institutio Principis Christiani; but he makes no reference to the De regno et regis institutione of Francesco Patrizzi (d. 1494), bishop of Gaeta, on which his work was undoubtedly modelled. As a prose writer, Elyot enriched the English language with many new words. In 1534 he published The Castell of Helth, a popular treatise on medicine, intended to place a scientific knowledge of the art within the reach of those unacquainted with Greek. This work, though scoffed at by the faculty, was appreciated by the general public, and speedily went through many editions. His Latin Dictionary, the earliest comprehensive dictionary of the language, was completed in 1538. The copy of the first edition in the British Museum contains an autograph letter from Elyot to Thomas Cromwell, to whom it originally belonged. It was edited and enlarged in 1548 by Thomas Cooper, bishop of Winchester, who called it Bibliotheca Eliotae, and it formed the basis in 1565 of Cooper’s Thesaurus linguae Romanae et Britannicae.
Sir Thomas Elyot received little recognition for his contributions to the state, but his scholarship and books were highly regarded by his peers. The Boke named the Governour was published by Thomas Berthelet (1531, 1534, 1536, 1544, etc.). It's a treatise on moral philosophy, aimed at guiding the education of those destined for high positions and instilling the moral principles necessary for fulfilling their responsibilities. This topic was popular in the 16th century, and the book, which included many references to classical authors, gained significant popularity. Elyot openly acknowledges his debt to Erasmus’s Institutio Principis Christiani; however, he does not mention Francesco Patrizzi’s De regno et regis institutione (d. 1494), the bishop of Gaeta, which his work was undeniably based on. As a prose writer, Elyot enriched the English language with many new words. In 1534, he published The Castell of Helth, a well-received treatise on medicine, designed to make scientific knowledge of the field accessible to those unfamiliar with Greek. Although it was ridiculed by the medical community, it was valued by the general public and quickly went through several editions. His Latin Dictionary, the first comprehensive dictionary of the language, was finished in 1538. The copy of the first edition in the British Museum has an autograph letter from Elyot to Thomas Cromwell, to whom it originally belonged. It was edited and expanded in 1548 by Thomas Cooper, bishop of Winchester, who named it Bibliotheca Eliotae, and it served as the foundation for Cooper’s Thesaurus linguae Romanae et Britannicae in 1565.
Elyot’s translations include:—The Doctrinal of Princes (1534), from Isocrates; Cyprianus, A Swete and Devoute Sermon of Holy Saynt Ciprian of the Mortalitie of Man (1534); Rules of a Christian Life (1534), from Pico della Mirandola; The Education or Bringing up of Children (c. 1535), from Plutarch; and Howe one may take Profite of his Enymes (1535), from the same author is generally attributed to him. He also wrote: The Knowledge which maketh a Wise Man and Pasquyll the Playne (1533); The Bankette of Sapience (1534), a collection of moral sayings; Preservative agaynste Deth (1545), which contains many quotations from the Fathers; Defence of Good Women (1545). His Image of Governance, compiled of the Actes and Sentences notable of the most noble Emperor Alexander Severus (1540) professed to be a translation from a Greek MS. of the emperor’s secretary Encolpius (or Eucolpius, as Elyot calls him), which had been lent him by a gentleman of Naples, called Pudericus, who asked to have it back before the translation was complete. In these circumstances Elyot, as he asserts in his preface, supplied the other maxims from different sources. He was violently assailed by Humphrey Hody and later by William Wotton for putting forward a pseudo-translation; but Mr H.H.S. Croft has discovered that there was a Neapolitan gentleman at that time bearing the name of Poderico, or, Latinized, Pudericus, with whom Elyot may well have been acquainted. Roger Ascham mentions his De rebus memorabilibus Angliae; and Webbe quotes a few lines of a lost translation of the Ars poëtica of Horace.
Elyot’s translations include:—The Doctrinal of Princes (1534), from Isocrates; Cyprianus, A Sweet and Devout Sermon of Holy Saint Cyprian on the Mortality of Man (1534); Rules of a Christian Life (1534), from Pico della Mirandola; The Education or Raising of Children (c. 1535), from Plutarch; and How One Can Benefit from His Enemies (1535), which is also generally attributed to him and derived from the same author. He also wrote: The Knowledge That Makes a Wise Man and Pasquill the Plain (1533); The Banquet of Wisdom (1534), a collection of moral sayings; Preservative Against Death (1545), which contains many quotes from the Church Fathers; and Defense of Good Women (1545). His Image of Governance, Compiled from the Acts and Notable Sentences of the Most Noble Emperor Alexander Severus (1540) claimed to be a translation from a Greek manuscript by the emperor’s secretary Encolpius (or Eucolpius, as Elyot refers to him), which was lent to him by a gentleman from Naples named Pudericus, who requested it back before the translation was finished. Under these circumstances, Elyot, as he states in his preface, filled in the other maxims from various sources. He faced strong criticism from Humphrey Hody and later from William Wotton for presenting a pseudo-translation; however, Mr. H.H.S. Croft discovered that there was indeed a Neapolitan gentleman at that time named Poderico, or Latinized as Pudericus, with whom Elyot may have been familiar. Roger Ascham mentions his De rebus memorabilibus Angliae; and Webbe quotes a few lines from a lost translation of Horace’s Ars poetica.
A learned edition of the Governour (2 vols., 1880), by H.H.S. Croft, contains, besides copious notes, a valuable glossary of 16th century English words.
A scholarly edition of the Governour (2 vols., 1880), by H.H.S. Croft, includes not only extensive notes but also a helpful glossary of 16th-century English words.
ELYRIA, a city and the county-seat of Lorain county, Ohio, U.S.A., on the Black river, 8 m. from Lake Erie, and about 25 m. W.S.W. of Cleveland. Pop. (1890) 5611; (1900) 8791, of whom 1397 were foreign-born; (1910 census) 14,825. It is served by the Baltimore & Ohio, and the Lake Shore & Michigan Southern railways. Elyria is about 720 ft. above sea-level, and lies at the junction of the two forks of the Black river, each of which falls about 50 ft. here, furnishing water-power. Among the city’s manufactures are oxide of tin and other chemicals, iron and steel, leather goods, automobiles and bicycles, electrical and telephone supplies, butted tubing, gas engines, screws and bolts, silk, lace and hosiery. In 1905 the city’s factory products were valued at $2,933,450—140.2% more than their value in 1900. Flagging, building-stones and grindstones, taken from quarries in the vicinity (known as the Berea Grit quarries), are shipped from Elyria in large quantities. Elyria was founded about 1819 by Heman Ely, in whose honour it was named; it was selected as the site for the county seat in 1823, and was chartered as a city in 1892.
ELYRIA is a city and the county seat of Lorain County, Ohio, U.S.A., located on the Black River, 8 miles from Lake Erie, and about 25 miles west-southwest of Cleveland. Population: (1890) 5,611; (1900) 8,791, of which 1,397 were foreign-born; (1910 census) 14,825. It is served by the Baltimore & Ohio and the Lake Shore & Michigan Southern railroads. Elyria is approximately 720 feet above sea level and sits at the junction of the two forks of the Black River, each of which drops about 50 feet here, providing water power. The city's manufacturing includes tin oxide and other chemicals, iron and steel, leather goods, automobiles and bicycles, electrical and telephone supplies, butted tubing, gas engines, screws and bolts, silk, lace, and hosiery. In 1905, the city's factory products were valued at $2,933,450—140.2% more than their value in 1900. Flagstones, building stones, and grindstones from local quarries (known as the Berea Grit quarries) are shipped in large quantities from Elyria. Elyria was founded around 1819 by Heman Ely, after whom it was named; it was chosen as the county seat in 1823 and was chartered as a city in 1892.
ELYSIUM, in Greek mythology, the Elysian fields, the abode of the righteous after their removal from earth. In Homer (Od. iv. 563) this region is a plain at the farthest end of the earth on the banks of the river Oceanus, where the fair-haired 304 Rhadamanthys rules, and where the people are vexed by neither snow nor storm, heat nor cold, the air being always tempered by the zephyr wafted from the ocean. It is no dwelling of the dead nor part of the lower world, but distinguished heroes are translated thither without dying, to live a life of perfect happiness. In Hesiod (W. and D. 166) the same description is given of the Islands of the Blessed under the rule of Cronus, which yield three harvests yearly. Here, according to Pindar, Rhadamanthys sits by the side of his father Cronus and administers judgment (Ol. ii. 61, Frag. 95). All who have successfully gone through a triple probation on earth are admitted to share these blessings. In later accounts (Aeneid, vi. 541) Elysium was regarded as part of the underworld, the home of the righteous dead adjudged worthy of it by the tribunal of Minos, Rhadamanthys and Aeacus. Those who had lived evil lives were thrust down into Tartarus, where they suffered endless torments.
ELYSIUM in Greek mythology refers to the Elysian fields, the home of the virtuous after they leave earth. In Homer's Odyssey (iv. 563), this region is described as a plain at the edge of the world by the river Oceanus, where the fair-haired 304 Rhadamanthys rules, and where people are not troubled by snow or storms, heat or cold, with the air always gentle from the ocean breeze. It’s not a realm for the dead or part of the underworld but a place where distinguished heroes are taken without dying to live a life of complete happiness. Hesiod (Works and Days 166) gives a similar description of the Islands of the Blessed under Cronus, which produce three harvests each year. Here, according to Pindar, Rhadamanthys sits next to his father Cronus and delivers judgment (Olympian ii. 61, Fragment 95). Anyone who has successfully passed a triple trial on earth is allowed to enjoy these rewards. In later accounts (Aeneid, vi. 541), Elysium is considered part of the underworld, the home of the righteous dead deemed worthy by the judges Minos, Rhadamanthys, and Aeacus. Those who lived wickedly are cast down into Tartarus, where they endure endless suffering.
ELZE, KARL (1821-1889), German scholar and Shakespearian critic, was born at Dessau on the 22nd of May 1821. Having studied (1839-1843) classical philology, and modern, but especially English, literature at the university of Leipzig, he was a master for a time in the Gymnasium (classical school) at Dessau, and in 1875 was appointed extraordinary, and in 1876 ordinary, professor of English philology at the university of Halle, in which city he died on the 21st of January 1889. Elze began his literary career with the Englischer Liederschatz (1851), an anthology of English lyrics, edited for a while a critical periodical Atlantis, and in 1857 published an edition of Shakespeare’s Hamlet with critical notes. He also edited Chapman’s Alphonsus (1867) and wrote biographies of Walter Scott, Byron and Shakespeare; Abhandlungen zu Shakespeare (English translation by D. Schmitz, as Essays on Shakespeare, London, 1874), and the excellent treatise, Notes on Elizabethan Dramatists with conjectural emendations of the text (3 vols., Halle, 1880-1886, new ed. 1889).
ELZE, KARL (1821-1889), a German scholar and Shakespearean critic, was born in Dessau on May 22, 1821. After studying classical philology and modern literature—especially English literature—at the University of Leipzig from 1839 to 1843, he worked as a teacher for a period at the Gymnasium in Dessau. In 1875, he was appointed an extraordinary professor and in 1876 an ordinary professor of English philology at the University of Halle, where he passed away on January 21, 1889. Elze began his literary career with Englischer Liederschatz (1851), an anthology of English lyrics. He also edited a critical journal called Atlantis and published a version of Shakespeare’s Hamlet with critical notes in 1857. Additionally, he edited Chapman’s Alphonsus (1867) and wrote biographies of Walter Scott, Byron, and Shakespeare; Abhandlungen zu Shakespeare (translated into English by D. Schmitz as Essays on Shakespeare, London, 1874), and the excellent treatise titled Notes on Elizabethan Dramatists with Conjectural Emendations of the Text (3 vols., Halle, 1880-1886, new ed. 1889).
ELZEVIR, the name of a celebrated family of Dutch printers belonging to the 17th century. The original name of the family was Elsevier, or Elzevier, and their French editions mostly retain this name; but in their Latin editions, which are the more numerous, the name is spelt Elzeverius, which was gradually corrupted in English into Elzevir as a generic term for their books. The family originally came from Louvain, and there Louis, who first made the name Elzevir famous, was born in 1540. He learned the business of a bookbinder, and having been compelled in 1580, on account of his Protestantism and his adherence to the cause of the insurgent provinces, to leave his native country, he established himself as bookbinder and bookseller in Leiden. His Eutropius, which appeared in 1592, was long regarded as the earliest Elzevir, but the first is now known to be Drusii Ebraicarum quaestionum ac responsionum libri duo, which was produced in 1583. In all he published about 150 works. He died on the 4th of February 1617. Of his five sons, Matthieu, Louis, Gilles, Joost and Bonaventure, who all adopted their father’s profession, Bonaventure, who was born in 1583, is the most celebrated. He began business as a printer in 1608, and in 1626 took into partnership Abraham, a son of Matthieu, born at Leiden in 1592. Abraham died on the 14th of August 1652, and Bonaventure about a month afterwards. The fame of the Elzevir editions rests chiefly on the works issued by this firm. Their Greek and Hebrew impressions are considered inferior to those of the Aldi and the Estiennes, but their small editions in 12mo, 16mo and 24mo, for elegance of design, neatness, clearness and regularity of type, and beauty of paper, cannot be surpassed. Especially may be mentioned the two editions of the New Testament in Greek (Ἡ καινὴ διαθήκη, Novum Testamentum, &c.), published in 1624 and 1633, of which the latter is the more beautiful and the more sought after; the Psalterium Davidis, 1653; Virgilii opera, 1636; Terentii comediae, 1635; but the works which gave their press its chief celebrity are their collection of French authors on history and politics in 24mo, known under the name of the Petites Républiques, and their series of Latin, French and Italian classics in small 12mo. Jean, son of Abraham, born in 1622, had since 1647 been in partnership with his father and uncle, and when they died Daniel, son of Bonaventure, born in 1626, joined him. Their partnership did not last more than two years, and after its dissolution Jean carried on the business alone till his death in 1661. In 1654 Daniel joined his cousin Louis (the third of that name and son of the second Louis), who was born in 1604, and had established a printing press at Amsterdam in 1638. From 1655 to 1666 they published a series of Latin classics in 8vo, cum notis variorum; Cicero in 4to; the Etymologicon linguae Latinae; and a magnificent Corpus juris civilis in folio, 2 vols., 1663. Louis died in 1670, and Daniel in 1680. Besides Bonaventure, another son of Matthieu, Isaac, born in 1593, established a printing press at Leiden, where he carried on business from 1616 to 1625; but none of his editions attained much fame. The last representatives of the Elzevir printers were Peter, grandson of Joost, who from 1667 to 1675 was a bookseller at Utrecht, and printed seven or eight volumes of little consequence; and Abraham, son of the first Abraham, who from 1681 to 1712 was university printer at Leiden.
ELZEVIR, the name of a famous family of Dutch printers from the 17th century. The original name of the family was Elsevier, or Elzevier, and their French editions mostly keep this name; however, in their Latin editions, which are more numerous, the name is spelled Elzeverius, which gradually evolved in English into Elzevir as a general term for their books. The family originally came from Louvain, where Louis, who first made the Elzevir name well-known, was born in 1540. He learned the trade of a bookbinder, and after being forced to leave his home country in 1580 due to his Protestant beliefs and support for the rebel provinces, he settled in Leiden as a bookbinder and bookseller. His Eutropius, published in 1592, was long thought to be the first Elzevir edition, but the first is now recognized as Drusii Ebraicarum quaestionum ac responsionum libri duo, created in 1583. In total, he published around 150 works. He passed away on February 4, 1617. Of his five sons—Matthieu, Louis, Gilles, Joost, and Bonaventure—who all followed in their father’s profession, Bonaventure, born in 1583, is the most famous. He started his printing business in 1608 and in 1626 partnered with Abraham, a son of Matthieu, born in Leiden in 1592. Abraham died on August 14, 1652, and Bonaventure about a month later. The reputation of the Elzevir editions primarily comes from the works published by this firm. Their Greek and Hebrew editions are seen as lesser than those of the Aldus and Estienne families, but their small editions in 12mo, 16mo, and 24mo are unmatched in elegance of design, neatness, clarity and consistency of type, and paper quality. Notably, their two editions of the New Testament in Greek (The New Testament, Novum Testamentum, &c.) published in 1624 and 1633, with the latter being the more beautiful and sought after; the Psalterium Davidis, 1653; Virgilii opera, 1636; Terentii comediae, 1635; but the books that truly made their press famous are their collection of French authors on history and politics in 24mo, known as Petites Républiques, and their series of Latin, French, and Italian classics in small 12mo. Jean, son of Abraham, born in 1622, had been in partnership with his father and uncle since 1647, and when they passed, Daniel, son of Bonaventure, born in 1626, joined him. Their partnership lasted no more than two years, and after it ended, Jean continued the business alone until his death in 1661. In 1654, Daniel teamed up with his cousin Louis (the third of that name and son of the second Louis), born in 1604, who had established a printing press in Amsterdam in 1638. From 1655 to 1666, they published a series of Latin classics in 8vo, cum notis variorum; Cicero in 4to; the Etymologicon linguae Latinae; and a magnificent Corpus juris civilis in folio, 2 vols., 1663. Louis died in 1670 and Daniel in 1680. Besides Bonaventure, another son of Matthieu, Isaac, born in 1593, set up a printing press in Leiden, running from 1616 to 1625; however, none of his editions gained much attention. The last representatives of the Elzevir printers were Peter, grandson of Joost, who was a bookseller in Utrecht from 1667 to 1675 and printed seven or eight minor volumes; and Abraham, son of the first Abraham, who served as the university printer in Leiden from 1681 to 1712.
Some of the Elzevir editions bear no other typographical mark than simply the words Apud Elzeverios, or Ex officina Elseveriana, under the rubrique of the town. But the majority bear one of their special devices, four of which are recognized as in common use. Louis Elzevir, the founder of the family, usually adopted the arms of the United Provinces, an eagle on a cippus holding in its claws a sheaf of seven arrows, with the motto Concordia res parvae crescunt. About 1620 the Leiden Elzevirs adopted a new device, known as “the solitary,” and consisting of an elm tree, a fruitful vine and a man alone, with a motto Non solus. They also used another device, a palm tree with the motto, Assurgo pressa. The Elzevirs of Amsterdam used for their principal device a figure of Minerva with owl, shield and olive tree, and the motto, Ne extra oleas. The earliest productions of the Elzevir press are marked with an angel bearing a book and a scythe, and various other devices occur at different times. When the Elzevirs did not wish to put their name to their works they generally marked them with a sphere, but of course the mere fact that a work printed in the 17th century bears this mark is no proof that it is theirs. The total number of works of all kinds which came from the presses of the Elzevirs is given by Willems as 1608; there were also many forgeries.
Some of the Elzevir editions feature no other typographical mark than just the words Apud Elzeverios or Ex officina Elseveriana, under the rubrique of the town. However, most include one of their special devices, four of which are commonly recognized. Louis Elzevir, the family founder, typically adopted the arms of the United Provinces, which showed an eagle on a pedestal holding a sheaf of seven arrows, with the motto Concordia res parvae crescunt. Around 1620, the Leiden Elzevirs introduced a new device known as “the solitary,” featuring an elm tree, a fruitful vine, and a lone man, with the motto Non solus. They also used another device, a palm tree with the motto Assurgo pressa. The Amsterdam Elzevirs showcased a figure of Minerva accompanied by an owl, shield, and olive tree as their main device, along with the motto Ne extra oleas. The earliest works from the Elzevir press are marked with an angel holding a book and a scythe, and various other devices appeared at different times. When the Elzevirs chose not to attach their name to their works, they typically marked them with a sphere, but obviously, the mere presence of this mark on a work printed in the 17th century doesn’t guarantee it belongs to them. The total number of works of all types printed by the Elzevirs is listed by Willems as 1608; there were also many forgeries.
See “Notice de la collection d’auteurs latins, français, et italiens, imprimée de format petit en 12, par les Elsévier,” in Brunet’s Manuel du libraire (Paris, 1820); A. de Reume, Recherches historiques, généalogiques, et bibliographiques sur les Elsévier (Brussels, 1847); Paul Dupont, Histoire de l’imprimerie, in two vols. (Paris, 1854); Pieters, Annales de l’imprimerie Elsévirienne (2nd ed., Ghent, 1858); Walther, Les Elséviriennes de la bibliothèque impériale de St-Pétersbourg (St Petersburg, 1864); Alphonse Willems, Les Elzévier (Brussels, 1880), with a history of the Elzevir family and their printing establishments, a chronological list and detailed description of all works printed by them, their various typographical marks, and a plate illustrating the types used by them; Kelchner, Catalogus librorum officinae Elsevirianae (Paris, 1880); Frick, Die Elzevirschen Republiken (Halle, 1892); Berghman, Études sur la bibliographie Elzévirienne (Stockholm, 1885), and Nouvelles études, &c. (ib. 1897).
See “Notice of the collection of Latin, French, and Italian authors, printed in small 12mo format by the Elséviers,” in Brunet’s Manual of the Bookseller (Paris, 1820); A. de Reume, Historical, Genealogical, and Bibliographic Researches on the Elséviers (Brussels, 1847); Paul Dupont, History of Printing, in two volumes (Paris, 1854); Pieters, Annals of the Elsévier Printing House (2nd ed., Ghent, 1858); Walther, The Elséviers of the Imperial Library of St. Petersburg (St Petersburg, 1864); Alphonse Willems, The Elzéviers (Brussels, 1880), which includes a history of the Elzevir family and their printing shops, a chronological list, and a detailed description of all works printed by them, their various typographical marks, and a plate illustrating the types they used; Kelchner, Catalog of the Books from the Elsevier Press (Paris, 1880); Frick, The Elzevir Republics (Halle, 1892); Berghman, Studies on Elzévirienne Bibliography (Stockholm, 1885), and New Studies, &c. (ib. 1897).
EMANATION (Lat. emanatio, from e-, out, manare, to flow), in philosophy and theology, the name of one of the three chief theories of existence, i.e. of the relation between God and men—the One and the Many, the Universal and the Particular. This theory has been propounded in many forms, but the central idea is that the universe of individuals consists of the involuntary “outpourings” of the ultimate divine essence. That essence is not only all-inclusive, but absolutely perfect, while the “emanated” individuals degenerate in proportion to the degree of their distance from the essence. The existence of evil in opposition to the perfect goodness of God, as thus explained, need not be attributed to God’s agency, inasmuch as the whole emanation-process is governed by necessary—as it were mechanical—laws, which may be compared to those of the physical universe. The doctrine of emanation is thus to be distinguished from the cosmogonic theory of Judaism and Christianity, which explains human existence as due to a single creative act of a moral agent. The God of Judaism and 305 Christianity is essentially a person in close personal relation to his creatures; emanation is the denial of personality both for God and for man. The emanation theory is to be contrasted, on the other hand, with the theory of evolution. The two theories are alike in so far as both recognize the existence of individuals as due to a necessary process of differentiation and a scale of existence. They differ, however, fundamentally in this respect, that, whereas evolution regards the process as from the indeterminate lower towards the determinate higher, emanation regards it as from the highest to the indefinitely lower.
EMANATION (Lat. emanatio, from e-, out, manare, to flow), in philosophy and theology, refers to one of the three main theories of existence, namely the relationship between God and humanity—the One and the Many, the Universal and the Particular. This theory has been presented in various forms, but the core idea is that the universe of individuals arises from the involuntary “outpourings” of the ultimate divine essence. That essence is not only all-encompassing but also completely perfect, while the “emanated” individuals deteriorate in proportion to how far they are from that essence. The existence of evil, in contrast to God's perfect goodness, can be explained in such a way that it does not need to be attributed to God’s actions, since the entire emanation process is governed by necessary—as if mechanical—laws, which can be compared to those of the physical universe. The doctrine of emanation is thus distinct from the cosmogonic theory of Judaism and Christianity, which views human existence as the result of a single creative act by a moral agent. The God of Judaism and Christianity is fundamentally a person in a close personal relationship with His creations; emanation denies personality for both God and humanity. The emanation theory stands in contrast to the theory of evolution. While both theories agree that individuals exist due to a necessary process of differentiation and a hierarchy of existence, they fundamentally differ in that evolution sees the process moving from the indeterminate lower towards the determinate higher, whereas emanation views it as descending from the highest to the indefinitely lower.
There is considerable superficial similarity between evolution and emanation, especially in their formal statements. The process of evolution from the indeterminate to the determinate is often expressed as a progress from the universal to the particular. Thus the primordial matter assumed by the early Greek physicists may be said to be the universal substance out of which particular things arise. The doctrine of emanation also regards the world as a process of particularization. Yet the resemblance is more apparent than real. The universal is, as Herbert Spencer remarked, a subjective idea, and the general forms, existing ante res, which play so prominent a part in Greek and medieval philosophy, do not in the least correspond to the homogeneous matter of the physical evolutionists. The one process is a logical operation, the other a physical. The theory of emanation, which had its source in certain moral and religious ideas, aims first of all at explaining the origin of mental or spiritual existence as an effluence from the divine and absolute spirit. In the next place, it seeks to account for the general laws of the world, for the universal forms of existence, as ideas which emanate from the Deity. By some it was developed into a complete philosophy of the world, in which matter itself is viewed as the lowest emanation from the absolute. In this form it stands in sharp antithesis to the doctrine of evolution, both because the former views the world of particular things and events as essentially unreal and illusory, and because the latter, so far as it goes, looks on matter as eternal, and seeks to explain the general forms of things as we perceive them by help of simpler assumptions. In certain theories known as doctrines of emanation, only mental existence is referred to the absolute source, while matter is viewed as eternal and distinct from the divine nature. In this form the doctrine of emanation approaches certain forms of the evolution theory (see Evolution).
There is a lot of superficial similarity between evolution and emanation, especially in how they are formally stated. The process of evolution from the unclear to the clear is often described as a shift from the universal to the specific. So, the primordial matter that early Greek physicists talked about can be seen as the universal substance from which specific things come. The concept of emanation also sees the world as a process of becoming specific. However, the similarity is more apparent than real. The universal is, as Herbert Spencer pointed out, a subjective idea, and the general forms that exist ante res, which play a major role in Greek and medieval philosophy, do not correspond at all to the homogeneous matter that physical evolutionists discuss. One process is a logical operation, while the other is a physical one. The theory of emanation, which comes from certain moral and religious ideas, primarily aims to explain the origin of mental or spiritual existence as a flow from the divine and absolute spirit. Secondly, it tries to explain the general laws of the world and the universal forms of existence as ideas that come from the Deity. Some developed it into a complete philosophy of the world, where matter itself is seen as the lowest form of emanation from the absolute. In this form, it sharply contrasts with the doctrine of evolution, as the former views the world of specific things and events as fundamentally unreal and illusory, while the latter, as far as it goes, considers matter to be eternal and tries to explain the general forms of things as we see them based on simpler assumptions. In some theories called doctrines of emanation, only mental existence is linked to the absolute source, while matter is seen as eternal and separate from divine nature. In this form, the doctrine of emanation gets close to certain interpretations of evolution theory (see Evolution).
The doctrine of emanation is correctly described as of oriental origin. It appears in various forms in Indian philosophy, and is the characteristically oriental element in syncretic systems like Neoplatonism and Gnosticism. None the less it is easy to find it in embryo in the speculations of the essentially European philosophers of Greece. Plato, whose philosophy was strongly opposed to the evolution theory, distinctly inclines to the emanation idea in his doctrine that each particular thing is what it is in virtue of a pre-existent idea, and that the particulars are the lowest in the scale of existence, at the head of, or above, which is the idea of the good. The view of Xenocrates is based on the same ideas. Or again, we may compare the Stoic doctrine of ἀπόρροιαι (literally “emanations”) from the divine essence. It is, however, only in the last eclectic period of Greek philosophy that the emanation doctrine was definitely established in the doctrines, e.g. Plotinus.
The doctrine of emanation is rightly seen as having eastern origins. It shows up in various forms in Indian philosophy and is a key eastern element in blended systems like Neoplatonism and Gnosticism. However, it’s also easy to find it in its early stages in the thoughts of European philosophers from Greece. Plato, whose philosophy strongly opposed the theory of evolution, clearly leans towards the idea of emanation in his belief that each particular thing is defined by a pre-existing idea, and that these particulars are the lowest level of existence, with the idea of the good being at the top or above them. Xenocrates' views are based on the same concepts. We can also compare this to the Stoic doctrine of no context (literally “emanations”) from the divine essence. Nonetheless, it was only during the last eclectic period of Greek philosophy that the doctrine of emanation was firmly established in the teachings, such as those of Plotinus.
See especially articles Evolution, Neoplatonism, Gnosticism.
See especially articles Evolution, Neoplatonism, Gnosticism.
EMANUEL I. [Portuguese Manoel] (1469-1521), fourteenth king of Portugal, surnamed the Happy, knight of the Garter and of the Golden Fleece, was the son of Duke Ferdinand of Vizeu and of Beatrice of Beja, grandchildren of John I. of Portugal. He was born at Alcochete on the 3rd of May 1469, or, according to Barbosa Machado, on the 1st of June. His early education was directed by a Sicilian named Cataldo. In 1495 he became king in succession to his cousin John II. In 1497 he married Isabella, daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella of Castile, who had previously been married to Alphonso, the heir of John II. She died in the next year in giving birth to a son named Miguel, who until his death two years later was considered heir to the entire Iberian Peninsula. Emanuel’s next wife was Maria, another daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, whom he married in 1500. Two of their children, John and Henry, later became kings of Portugal. Maria died in 1516, and in 1518 her niece Leonora, a sister of the emperor Charles V., became Emanuel’s third wife. Emanuel’s reign is noteworthy for the continuance of the Portuguese discoveries and the extension of their chain of trading-posts, Vasco da Gama’s opening an all-sea route to India, Cabral’s landing in Brazil, Corte-Real’s voyage to Labrador, the exploration of the Indian seas and the opening of commercial relations with Persia and China, bringing Portugal international prominence, colonial pre-eminence and a hitherto unparalleled degree of national prosperity. His intense religious zeal variously manifested itself in his persecutions of the Jews, whom at the beginning of his reign he had been disposed to tolerate, his strenuous endeavours to promote an international crusade against the Turks, his eager missionary enterprise throughout his new possessions, and his erection of twenty-six monasteries and two cathedrals, including the stately monastic church of the Jeronymos at Belem (see Lisbon). His jealously despotic character was accentuated by the enormous increase the Indies furnished to his personal wealth, and exemplified in his assumption of new titles and in a magnificent embassy to Pope Leo X. He died at Lisbon on the 13th of December 1521.
EMANUEL I. [Portuguese Manoel] (1469-1521), the fourteenth king of Portugal, known as the Happy, was a knight of the Garter and of the Golden Fleece. He was the son of Duke Ferdinand of Vizeu and Beatrice of Beja, grandchildren of John I of Portugal. He was born in Alcochete on May 3, 1469, or according to Barbosa Machado, on June 1. His early education was guided by a Sicilian named Cataldo. In 1495, he became king after his cousin John II. In 1497, he married Isabella, the daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella of Castile, who had previously been married to Alphonso, the heir of John II. She died the following year after giving birth to a son named Miguel, who was considered the heir to the entire Iberian Peninsula until his death two years later. Emanuel’s next wife was Maria, another daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, whom he married in 1500. Two of their children, John and Henry, later became kings of Portugal. Maria died in 1516, and in 1518, her niece Leonora, a sister of Emperor Charles V, became Emanuel’s third wife. Emanuel’s reign is significant for the continuation of Portuguese discoveries and the expansion of their trading-posts, Vasco da Gama’s establishment of an all-sea route to India, Cabral’s landing in Brazil, Corte-Real’s voyage to Labrador, the exploration of the Indian seas, and the opening of trade with Persia and China, bringing Portugal international recognition, colonial dominance, and unprecedented national prosperity. His deep religious fervor showed through in his persecutions of the Jews, whom he had initially been inclined to tolerate at the start of his reign, his vigorous efforts to promote an international crusade against the Turks, his enthusiastic missionary work throughout his new territories, and his establishment of twenty-six monasteries and two cathedrals, including the grand monastic church of the Jeronymos in Belem (see Lisbon). His intensely autocratic nature was highlighted by the vast increase in wealth from the Indies, demonstrated by his adoption of new titles and a lavish embassy to Pope Leo X. He died in Lisbon on December 13, 1521.
The best authorities for the history of Emanuel’s reign are the contemporary 16th-century Chronica d’el Rei D. Manoel, by Damião de Goes, and De rebus Emanuelis, by J. Osorio. El Rei D. Manoel, by M.B. Branco (Lisbon, 1888), is a valuable but ill-arranged biography. See also the Ordenações do S.R.D. Manoel (Coimbra University Press, 1797). For further bibliography see Barbosa Machado, Bibliographica Lusitana, vol. iii. pp. 161-166.
The best sources for the history of Emanuel’s reign are the contemporary 16th-century Chronica d’el Rei D. Manoel by Damião de Goes and De rebus Emanuelis by J. Osorio. El Rei D. Manoel by M.B. Branco (Lisbon, 1888) is a useful but poorly organized biography. Also, check out the Ordenações do S.R.D. Manoel (Coimbra University Press, 1797). For more references, see Barbosa Machado, Bibliographica Lusitana, vol. iii, pp. 161-166.
EMBALMING (Gr. βάλσαμον, balsam; Ger. Einbalsamiren; Fr. embaumement), the art of preparing dead bodies, chiefly by the use of medicaments, in order to preserve them from putrefaction and the attacks of insects. The ancient Egyptians carried the art to great perfection, and embalmed not only human beings, but cats, crocodiles, ichneumons, and other sacred animals. It was at one time suggested that the origin of embalming in Egypt was to be traced to a want of fuel for the purpose of cremation, to the inadvisability or at some times impossibility of burial in a soil annually disturbed by the inundation of the Nile, and to the necessity, for sanitary reasons, of preventing the decomposition of the bodies of the dead when placed in open sepulchres. As, however, the corpses of the embalmed must have constituted but a small proportion of the aggregate mass of animal matter daily to be disposed of, the above explanation would in any case be far from satisfactory; and there is no doubt (see Mummy) that embalming originated in the idea of preserving the body for a future life. According to W.H. Prescott, it was a belief in a resurrection of the body that led the ancient Peruvians to preserve the air-dried corpses of their dead with so much solicitude (see Conquest of Peru, bk. i. chap. iii.). And J.C. Prichard (Egyptian Mythology, p. 200) properly compared the Egyptian practice with the views which rendered “the Greeks and Romans so anxious to perform the usual rites of sepulture to their departed warriors, namely, ... that these solemnities expedited the journey of the soul to the appointed region, where it was to receive judgment for its former deeds, and to have its future doom fixed accordingly.” It has been supposed by some that the discovery of the preservation of bodies interred in saline soils may have been the immediate origin of embalming in Egypt. In that country certain classes of the community were specially appointed for the practice of the art. Joseph, we are told in Gen. l. 2, “commanded his servants the physicians to embalm his father.”
EMBALMING (Gr. βαλσαμόν, balsam; Ger. Einbalsamiren; Fr. embaumement), is the practice of preparing dead bodies, mainly using medicinal substances, to prevent them from decaying and being attacked by insects. The ancient Egyptians perfected this art and embalmed not just humans but also cats, crocodiles, ichneumons, and other sacred animals. At one point, it was suggested that embalming in Egypt originated from a lack of fuel for cremation, the impracticality or sometimes impossibility of burial in soil that was regularly flooded by the Nile, and the need to stop the decomposition of bodies placed in open graves for health reasons. However, since the number of embalmed corpses was likely a small fraction of the total animal matter that needed to be disposed of, this explanation is not very convincing. It’s clear (see Mummy) that embalming stemmed from the belief in preserving the body for an afterlife. According to W.H. Prescott, the belief in the resurrection of the body drove the ancient Peruvians to carefully preserve the air-dried remains of their deceased (see Conquest of Peru, bk. i. chap. iii.). J.C. Prichard (Egyptian Mythology, p. 200) aptly compared the Egyptian method to the beliefs that motivated the Greeks and Romans to perform the customary burial rites for their fallen warriors, which they thought would speed up the soul’s journey to the designated place where it would face judgment for its past actions and have its future fate determined accordingly. Some have suggested that discovering how bodies buried in salty soil remained preserved may have been the direct catalyst for embalming in Egypt. Certain groups within that society were specifically tasked with practicing this art. Joseph, as noted in Gen. l. 2, “commanded his servants the physicians to embalm his father.”
Herodotus (ii. 86) gives an account of three of the methods of embalming followed by the Egyptians. The most expensive of these, which cost a talent of silver (£243: 15s.), was as follows. The brains were in part removed through the nostrils by means of a bent iron implement, and in part by the injection of drugs. The intestines having been drawn out through an incision in the left side, the abdomen was cleansed with palm-wine, and filled with myrrh, cassia and other materials, and the opening was sewed up. This done, the body was steeped seventy days 306 in a solution of litron or natron.1 Diodorus (i. 91) relates that the cutter (παρασχίστης) appointed to make the incision in the flank for the removal of the intestines, as soon as he had performed his office, was pursued with stones and curses by those about him, it being held by the Egyptians a detestable thing to commit any violence or inflict a wound on the body. After the steeping, the body was washed, and handed over to the swathers, a peculiar class of the lowest order of priests, called by Plutarch cholchytae, by whom it was bandaged in gummed cloth; it was then ready for the coffin. Mummies thus prepared were considered to represent Osiris. In another method of embalming, costing twenty-two minae (about £90), the abdomen was injected with “cedar-tree pitch” (κεδρία), which, as it would seem from Pliny (Nat. Hist. xvi. 21), was the liquid distillate of the pitch-pine. This is stated by Herodotus to have had a corrosive and solvent action on the viscera. After injection the body was steeped a certain number of days in natron; the contents of the abdomen were allowed to escape; and the process was then complete. The preparation of the bodies of the poorest consisted simply in placing them in natron for seventy days, after a previous rinsing of the abdomen with “syrmaea.” The material principally used in the costlier modes of embalming appears to have been asphalt; wax was more rarely employed. In some cases embalming seems to have been effected by immersing the body in a bath of molten bitumen. Tanning also was resorted to. Occasionally the viscera, after treatment, were in part or wholly replaced in the body, together with wax figures of the four genii of Amenti. More commonly they were embalmed in a mixture of sand and asphalt, and buried in vases, or canopi, placed near the mummy, the abdomen being filled with chips and sawdust of cedar and a small quantity of natron. In one jar were placed the stomach and large intestine; in another, the small intestines; in a third, the lungs and heart; in a fourth, the gall-bladder and liver. Porphyry (De abstinentia, iv. 10) mentions a custom of enclosing the intestines in a box and consigning them to the Nile, after a prayer uttered by one of the embalmers, but his statement is regarded by Sir J.G. Wilkinson as unworthy of belief. The body of Nero’s wife Poppaea, contrary to the usage of the Romans, was not burnt, but as customary among other nations with the bodies of potentates, was honoured with embalmment (see Tacitus, Ann. xvi. 6). The body of Alexander the Great is said to have been embalmed with honey (Statius, Silv. iii. 2. 117), and the same material was used to preserve the corpse of Agesipolis I. during its conveyance to Sparta for burial. Herodotus states (iii. 24) that the Ethiopians, in embalming, dried the body, rubbed it with gypsum (or chalk), and, having painted it, placed it in a block of some transparent substance. The Guanches, the aborigines of the Canaries, employed a mode of embalming similar to that of the Egyptians, filling the hollow caused by the removal of the viscera with salt and an absorbent vegetable powder (see Bory de Saint Vincent, Essais sur les Îles Fortunées, 1803, p. 495). Embalming was still in vogue among the Egyptians in the time of St Augustine, who says that they termed mummies gabbarae (Serm. 120, cap. 12).
Herodotus (ii. 86) describes three methods of embalming used by the Egyptians. The most expensive one, which cost a talent of silver (£243: 15s.), involved the following steps: the brain was partially removed through the nostrils using a bent iron tool, and partially through drug injections. The intestines were taken out through an incision in the left side, the abdomen was cleaned with palm wine, filled with myrrh, cassia, and other materials, and then sewn shut. After this, the body was soaked for seventy days in a solution of litron or natron. Diodorus (i. 91) mentions that the cutter (παρασχίστης) who made the incision for the intestines was often chased away with stones and curses by those nearby, as the Egyptians deemed it a nastiest act to harm the body. Once the soaking was complete, the body was washed and given to the swathers, a special group of lower-class priests known by Plutarch as cholchytae, who wrapped it in gummed cloth, making it ready for the coffin. Mummies prepared this way were considered to embody Osiris. In another embalming method, costing twenty-two minae (about £90), the abdomen was injected with “cedar-tree pitch” (seat), which, according to Pliny (Nat. Hist. xvi. 21), was a liquid derived from pitch-pine. Herodotus notes that this substance had a corrosive effect on the organs. After injecting, the body was soaked for a certain number of days in natron; the contents of the abdomen were allowed to leak out, completing the process. The embalming method for the poorest involved simply placing the body in natron for seventy days after rinsing the abdomen with “syrmaea.” The primary materials used for more expensive embalming seemed to be asphalt; wax was less commonly used. In some cases, embalming was done by immersing the body in molten bitumen. Tanning was also used. Sometimes, the organs were partially or completely replaced in the body after treatment, along with wax figures of the four genii of Amenti. More often, they were embalmed in a mix of sand and asphalt and buried in vessels, or canopi, placed near the mummy, with the abdomen filled with cedar chips, sawdust, and a small amount of natron. In one jar, the stomach and large intestine were placed; in another, the small intestines; in a third, the lungs and heart; and in a fourth, the gallbladder and liver. Porphyry (De abstinentia, iv. 10) mentions a practice of placing the intestines in a box and sending them down the Nile after a prayer by one of the embalmers, but Sir J.G. Wilkinson considers this claim hard to believe. Nero’s wife, Poppaea, was not cremated contrary to Roman tradition but, in line with customs for other powerful people, was embalmed (see Tacitus, Ann. xvi. 6). It is said that Alexander the Great’s body was embalmed with honey (Statius, Silv. iii. 2. 117), which was also used to preserve Agesipolis I.'s body during its transport to Sparta for burial. Herodotus mentions (iii. 24) that the Ethiopians dried the body while rubbing it with gypsum (or chalk) and, after painting it, placed it in a block of some clear material. The Guanches, the indigenous people of the Canaries, used a similar embalming technique to the Egyptians, filling the cavity from the removal of the organs with salt and an absorbent plant powder (see Bory de Saint Vincent, Essais sur les Îles Fortunées, 1803, p. 495). Embalming was still practiced by the Egyptians during St. Augustine’s time, who noted that they referred to mummies as gabbarae (Serm. 120, cap. 12).
In modern times numerous methods of embalming have been practised. Dr Frederick Ruysch of Amsterdam (1665-1717) is said to have utilized alcohol for this purpose. By William Hunter essential oils, alcohol, cinnabar, camphor, saltpetre and pitch or rosin were employed, and the final desiccation of the body was effected by means of roasted gypsum placed in its coffin. J.P. Boudet (1778-1849) embalmed with tan, salt, asphalt and Peruvian bark, camphor, cinnamon and other aromatics and corrosive sublimate. The last-mentioned drug, chloride and sulphate of zinc, acetate and sulphate of alumina, and creasote and carbolic acid have all been recommended by various modern embalmers.
In recent times, many methods of embalming have been used. Dr. Frederick Ruysch from Amsterdam (1665-1717) is said to have used alcohol for this purpose. William Hunter employed essential oils, alcohol, cinnabar, camphor, saltpeter, and pitch or rosin, and the final drying of the body was done with roasted gypsum placed in the coffin. J.P. Boudet (1778-1849) used tannin, salt, asphalt, Peruvian bark, camphor, cinnamon, and other aromatic substances along with corrosive sublimate. The last-mentioned drug, along with chloride and sulfate of zinc, acetate and sulfate of alumina, and creosote and carbolic acid, have all been suggested by various modern embalmers.
See Mummy; Louis Penicher, Traité des embaumements (Paris, 1669); S. Blancard, Anatomia reformata, et de balsamatione nova methodus (Lugd. Bat., 1695); Thomas Greenhill, The Art of Embalming (London, 1705); J.N. Marjolin, Manuel d’anatomie (Paris, 1810); Pettigrew, History of Mummies (London, 1834); Gannal, Traité d’embaumements (Paris, 1838; 2nd ed., 1841); Magnus, Das Einbalsamiren der Leichen (Brunsw., 1839); Sucquet, Embaumement (Paris, 1872); Lessley, Embalming (Toledo, Ohio, 1884); Myers, Textbook of Embalming (Springfield, Ohio, 1900); Rawlinson, Herodotus, vol. ii. p. 141; G. Elliot Smith, A Contribution to the Study of Mummification in Egypt (Cairo, 1906).
See Mummy; Louis Penicher, Treatise on Embalming (Paris, 1669); S. Blancard, Anatomy Reformulated, and a New Method of Balsamation (Lugd. Bat., 1695); Thomas Greenhill, The Art of Embalming (London, 1705); J.N. Marjolin, Manual of Anatomy (Paris, 1810); Pettigrew, History of Mummies (London, 1834); Gannal, Treatise on Embalming (Paris, 1838; 2nd ed., 1841); Magnus, The Embalming of Corpses (Brunsw., 1839); Sucquet, Embalming (Paris, 1872); Lessley, Embalming (Toledo, Ohio, 1884); Myers, Textbook of Embalming (Springfield, Ohio, 1900); Rawlinson, Herodotus, vol. ii. p. 141; G. Elliot Smith, A Contribution to the Study of Mummification in Egypt (Cairo, 1906).
EMBANKMENT, in engineering, a mound of earth or stone, usually narrow in comparison with its length, artificially raised above the prevailing level of the ground. Embankments serve for two main classes of purpose. On the one hand, they are used to preserve the level of railways, canals and roads, in cases where a valley or piece of low-lying ground has to be crossed. On the other, they are employed to stop or limit the flow of water, either constituting the retaining wells of reservoirs constructed in connexion with water-supply schemes, or protecting low-lying tracts of land from river floods or the encroachments of the sea. The word embankment has thus come to be used for the mass of material, faced and supported by a stone wall and protected by a parapet, placed along the banks of a river where it passes through a city, whether to guard against floods or to gain additional space. Such is the Thames Embankment in London, which carries a broad roadway, while under it runs the Underground railway. In this sense an embankment is distinguished from a quay, though the mechanical construction may be the same, the latter word being confined to places where ships are loaded and unloaded, thus differing from the French quai, which is used both of embankments and quays, e.g. the Quais along the Seine at Paris.
EMBANKMENT, in engineering, is a mound of earth or stone that is typically narrow compared to its length, artificially raised above the surrounding ground level. Embankments have two main purposes. First, they are used to maintain the level of railways, canals, and roads when crossing a valley or low-lying area. Second, they help to stop or limit the flow of water, either by forming the retaining walls of reservoirs related to water supply systems, or by protecting low-lying land from river floods or the encroachment of the sea. The term embankment has also come to refer to the mass of material faced and supported by a stone wall and shielded by a parapet, which is placed along the banks of a river in a city to protect against floods or create more space. A prime example is the Thames Embankment in London, which supports a wide roadway above while the Underground railway runs underneath. In this context, an embankment is different from a quay; although the construction may be similar, a quay specifically refers to areas where ships are loaded and unloaded. This distinction differs from the French quai, which applies to both embankments and quays, e.g. the Quais along the Seine in Paris.
EMBARGO (a Spanish word meaning “stoppage”), in international law, the detention by a state of vessels within its ports as a measure of public, as distinguished from private, utility. In practice it serves as a mode of coercing a weaker state. In the middle ages war, being regarded as a complete rupture between belligerent states, operated as a suspension of all respect for the person and property of private citizens; an article of Magna Carta (1215) provided that “... if there shall be found any such merchants in our land in the beginning of a war, they shall be attached, without damage to their bodies or goods, until it may be known unto us, or our Chief Justiciary, how our merchants are treated who happen to be in the country which is at war with us; and if ours be safe there, theirs shall be safe in our lands” (art. 48).
EMBARGO (a Spanish word meaning “stoppage”) refers to the act of a state keeping vessels in its ports as a matter of public utility, distinct from private interest, in international law. Essentially, it is a way to apply pressure on a weaker state. During the Middle Ages, war was seen as a complete breakdown of relations between warring states, leading to a total disregard for the rights of private citizens and their property. An article in the Magna Carta (1215) stated that “... if there shall be found any such merchants in our land at the beginning of a war, they shall be detained without harm to their bodies or goods, until it is known to us, or our Chief Justiciary, how our merchants are treated in the country that is at war with us; and if ours are safe there, theirs shall be safe in our lands” (art. 48).
Embargoes in anticipation of war have long since fallen into disuse, and it is now customary on the outbreak of war for the belligerents even to grant a respite to the enemy’s trading vessels to leave their ports at the outbreak of war, so that neither ship nor cargo is any longer exposed to embargo. This has been confirmed in one of the Hague Conventions of 1907 (convention relative to the status of enemy merchant ships at the outbreak of hostilities, Oct. 18, 1907), which provides that “when a merchant ship belonging to one of the belligerent powers is at the commencement of hostilities in an enemy port, it is desirable that it should be allowed to depart freely, either immediately, or after a reasonable number of days of grace, and to proceed, after being furnished with a pass, direct to its port of destination, or any other port indicated” (art. 1). The next article of the same convention limits the option apparently granted by the use of the word “desirable,” providing that “a merchant ship unable, owing to circumstances of force majeure, to leave the enemy port within the period contemplated (in the previous article), or which was not allowed to leave, cannot be confiscated. The belligerent may only detain it, without compensation, but subject to the obligation of restoring it after the war, or requisition it on payment of compensation” (art. 2).
Embargoes in anticipation of war have mostly become outdated, and it’s now common for countries at war to even allow enemy trading ships to leave their ports when the conflict starts, so that neither the ship nor its cargo faces an embargo. This was affirmed in one of the Hague Conventions of 1907 (convention regarding the status of enemy merchant ships at the start of hostilities, Oct. 18, 1907), which states that “when a merchant ship belonging to one of the warring nations is in an enemy port at the start of hostilities, it is desirable that it be allowed to depart freely, either immediately or after a reasonable grace period, and to go directly to its destination port or any other specified port after receiving a pass” (art. 1). The next article of the same convention clarifies the option implied by the use of the term “desirable,” stating that “a merchant ship that is unable to leave the enemy port within the time frame mentioned (in the previous article) due to force majeure, or that was not permitted to leave, cannot be confiscated. The warring nation may only detain it without compensation, but must return it after the war or requisition it with compensation” (art. 2).
EMBASSY, the office of an ambassador, or, more generally, the mission on which an ambassador of one power is sent to another, or the body of official personages attached to such a mission, whether temporary or permanent. Hence “embassy” is often quite loosely used of any mission, diplomatic or otherwise. The word is also used of the official residence of an ambassador. “Embassy” was originally “ambassy,” the form 307 used in the 17th century, but by the time of Johnson considered quite obsolete. “Ambassy” is from the O. Fr. ambassée, derived through such forms as the Port. ambassada, Ital. ambasciata from a lost Med. Lat. ambactiata, ambactiare, to go on a mission. (See further Ambassador, Exterritoriality and Diplomacy.)
EMBASSY, the office of an ambassador, or more generally, the mission in which an ambassador from one country is sent to another, or the group of official individuals attached to such a mission, whether it's temporary or permanent. Therefore, “embassy” is often used loosely to refer to any mission, diplomatic or otherwise. The term also refers to the official residence of an ambassador. “Embassy” was originally “ambassy,” the term used in the 17th century, but by Johnson's time, it was considered quite outdated. “Ambassy” comes from the Old French ambassée, which evolved through forms like the Portuguese ambassada, Italian ambasciata from a lost Medieval Latin ambactiata, ambactiare, meaning to go on a mission. (See further Ambassador, Exterritoriality and Diplomacy.)
EMBER DAYS and EMBER WEEKS, the four seasons set apart by the Western Church for special prayer and fasting, and the ordination of clergy, known in the medieval Church as quatuor tempora, or jejunia quatuor temporum. The Ember weeks are the complete weeks next following Holy Cross day (September 14), St Lucy’s day (December 13), the first Sunday in Lent and Whitsun day. The Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays of these weeks are the Ember days distinctively, the following Sundays being the days of ordination. These dates are given in the following memorial distich with a frank indifference to quantity and metre—
EMBER DAYS and EMBER WEEKS are the four seasonal periods designated by the Western Church for special prayer and fasting, as well as for the ordination of clergy. This practice was known in the medieval Church as quatuor tempora or jejunia quatuor temporum. The Ember weeks occur in the complete weeks following Holy Cross Day (September 14), St. Lucy’s Day (December 13), the first Sunday in Lent, and Whitsun Day. The Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays of these weeks are the designated Ember days, with the following Sundays reserved for ordination. These dates are outlined in the following memorial distich, written without concern for quantity or meter—
“Vult Crux, Lucia, Cinis, Charismata dia “Vult Crux, Lucia, Cinis, Charismata dia Quod det vota pia quarta sequens feria.” Quod det vota pia quarta sequens feria. |
The word has been derived from the A.S. ymb-ren, a circuit or revolution (from ymb, around, and rennen, to run); or by process of agglutination and phonetic decay, exemplified by the Ger. quatember, Dutch quatertemper and Dan. kvatember, from the Lat. quatuor tempora. The occurrence of the Anglo-Saxon compounds ymbren-tid, ymbren-wucan, ymbren-fæstan, ymbren-dagas for Ember tide, weeks, fasts, days, favours the former derivation, which is also confirmed by the use of the word imbren in the acts of the council of Ænham, A.D. 1009 (“jejunia quatuor tempora quae imbren vocant”). It corresponds also with Pope Leo the Great’s definition, “jejunia ecclesiastica per totius anni circulum distributa.”
The word comes from the Old English ymb-ren, meaning a circuit or revolution (from ymb, around, and rennen, to run); or it has evolved through a process of blending and phonetic change, as seen in the German quatember, Dutch quatertemper, and Danish kvatember, which derive from the Latin quatuor tempora. The presence of Old English compounds like ymbren-tid, ymbren-wucan, ymbren-fæstan, ymbren-dagas for Ember tide, weeks, fasts, days supports the first explanation, which is also backed by the use of the term imbren in the acts of the council of Ænham, CE 1009 (“jejunia quatuor tempora quae imbren vocant”). This aligns with Pope Leo the Great’s definition, “jejunia ecclesiastica per totius anni circulum distributa.”
The observance of the Ember days is confined to the Western Church, and had its origin as an ecclesiastical ordinance in Rome. They were probably at first merely the fasts preparatory to the three great festivals of Christmas, Easter and Pentecost. A fourth was subsequently added, for the sake of symmetry, to make them correspond with the four seasons, and they became known as the jejunium vernum, aestivum, autumnale and hiemale, so that, to quote Pope Leo’s words, “the law of abstinence might apply to every season of the year.” An earlier mention of these fasts, as four in number—the first known—is in the writings of Philastrius, bishop of Brescia, in the middle of the 4th century. He also connects them with the great Christian festivals (De haeres. 119). In Leo’s time, A.D. 440-461, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday were already the days of special observance. From Rome the Ember days gradually spread through the whole of Western Christendom. Uniformity of practice, however, was of somewhat slow growth. Neither in Gaul nor Spain do they seem to have been generally recognized much before the 8th century. Their introduction into Britain appears to have been earlier, dating from Augustine, A.D. 597, acting under the authority of Gregory the Great. The general period of the four fasts being roughly fixed, the precise date appears to have varied considerably, and in some cases to have lost its connexion with the festivals altogether. The Ordo Romanus fixes the spring fast in the first week of March (then the first month); the summer fast in the second week of June; the autumnal fast in the third week of September; and the winter fast in the complete week next before Christmas eve. Other regulations prevailed in different countries, until the inconveniences arising from the want of uniformity led to the rule now observed being laid down under Pope Urban II. as the law of the church, in the councils of Piacenza and Clermont, A.D. 1095.
The Ember days are observed only by the Western Church and originated as a church rule in Rome. They likely began as fasts leading up to the three major festivals of Christmas, Easter, and Pentecost. A fourth fast was later added for balance, aligning them with the four seasons, and they became known as the jejunium vernum, aestivum, autumnale, and hiemale, so that, as Pope Leo said, “the law of abstinence might apply to every season of the year.” The earliest known mention of these four fasts is in the writings of Philastrius, bishop of Brescia, in the mid-4th century. He also linked them to the major Christian festivals (De haeres. 119). In Leo’s time, CE 440-461, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday were already designated days of special observance. The Ember days gradually spread from Rome throughout Western Christendom. However, it took some time for uniformity of practice to develop. They don't seem to have been widely recognized in Gaul or Spain until the 8th century. Their introduction to Britain appears to have happened earlier, starting with Augustine in AD 597, acting under the authority of Gregory the Great. While the general timing of the four fasts was roughly established, the exact dates varied significantly, and in some cases lost their connection to the festivals entirely. The Ordo Romanus sets the spring fast in the first week of March (then the first month); the summer fast in the second week of June; the autumn fast in the third week of September; and the winter fast in the entire week before Christmas Eve. Different regulations were followed in various countries until the irregularities caused by the lack of uniformity led to the rules now observed being established under Pope Urban II as church law in the councils of Piacenza and Clermont, CE 1095.
The present rule which fixes the ordination of clergy in the Ember weeks cannot be traced farther back than the time of Pope Gelasius, A.D. 492-496. In the early ages of the church ordinations took place at any season of the year whenever necessity required. Gelasius is stated by ritual writers to have been the first who limited them to these particular times, the special solemnity of the season being in all probability the cause of the selection. The rule once introduced commended itself to the mind of the church, and its observance spread. We find it laid down in the pontificate of Archbishop Ecgbert of York, A.D. 732-766, and referred to as a canonical rule in a capitulary of Charlemagne, and it was finally established as a law of the church in the pontificate of Gregory VII., c. 1085.
The current rule that sets the ordination of clergy during the Ember weeks can be traced back only to Pope Gelasius, CE 492-496. In the church's early days, ordinations happened at any time of the year when there was a need. Gelasius is acknowledged by ritual writers as the first to restrict them to these specific times, likely because of the special significance of the season. Once this rule was introduced, it gained acceptance in the church, and its practice spread. We see it established during the tenure of Archbishop Ecgbert of York, AD 732-766, and referenced as a canonical rule in a capitulary of Charlemagne. It was ultimately confirmed as a law of the church during the papacy of Gregory VII, c. 1085.
Authorities.—Muratori, Dissert. de jejun. quat. temp., c. vii., anecdot. tom. ii. p. 262; Bingham, Antiq. of the Christ. Church, bk. iv. ch. vi. § 6, bk. xxi. ch. ii. §§ 1-7; Binterin, Denkwürdigkeiten, vol. v. part 2, pp. 133 ff.; Augusti, Handbuch der christlich. Archäol. vol. i. p. 465, iii. p. 486.
Authorities.—Muratori, Dissert. de jejun. quat. temp., c. vii., anecdotes, vol. ii. p. 262; Bingham, Antiq. of the Christ. Church, bk. iv. ch. vi. § 6, bk. xxi. ch. ii. §§ 1-7; Binterin, Denkwürdigkeiten, vol. v. part 2, pp. 133 ff.; Augusti, Handbuch der christlich. Archäol. vol. i. p. 465, iii. p. 486.
EMBEZZLEMENT (A.-Fr. embesilement, from beseler or besillier, to destroy), in English law, a peculiar form of theft, which is distinguished from the ordinary crime in two points:—(1) It is committed by a person who is in the position of clerk or servant to the owner of the property stolen; and (2) the property when stolen is in the possession of such clerk or servant. The definition of embezzlement as a special form of theft arose out of the difficulties caused by the legal doctrine that to constitute larceny the property must be taken out of the possession of the owner. Servants and others were thus able to steal with impunity goods entrusted to them by their masters. A statute of Henry VIII. (1529) was passed to meet this case; and it enacted that it should be felony in servants to convert to their own use caskets, jewels, money, goods or chattels delivered to them by their masters. “This act,” says Sir J.F. Stephen (General View of the Criminal Law of England), “assisted by certain subtleties according to which the possession of the servant was taken under particular circumstances to be the possession of the master, so that the servant by converting the goods to his own use took them out of his own possession qua servant (which was his master’s possession) and put them into his own possession qua thief (which was a felony), was considered sufficient for practical purposes for more than 200 years.” In 1799 a clerk who had converted to his own use a cheque paid across the counter to him by a customer of his master was held to be not guilty of felony; and in the same year an act was passed, which, meeting the difficulty in such cases, enacted that if any clerk or servant, or any person employed as clerk or servant, should, by virtue of such employment, receive or take into his possession any money, bonds, bills, &c., for or in the name or on account of his employers, and should fraudulently embezzle the same, every such offender should be deemed to have stolen the same. The same definition is substantially repeated in a Consolidation Act passed in 1827. Numberless difficulties of interpretation arose under these acts, e.g. as to the meaning of “clerk or servant,” as to the difference between theft and embezzlement, &c.
EMBEZZLEMENT (A.-Fr. embesilement, from beseler or besillier, to destroy), in English law, is a specific type of theft that differs from regular theft in two key ways: (1) It’s committed by someone who is in the role of a clerk or servant to the owner of the stolen property; and (2) the property being stolen is under the control of that clerk or servant. The classification of embezzlement as a distinct form of theft emerged from challenges related to the legal principle that for larceny to occur, the property must be taken from the owner's possession. This loophole allowed employees to steal items entrusted to them by their employers without facing consequences. In 1529, a statute was enacted under Henry VIII to address this issue; it stated that it would be considered a felony for servants to misuse items like caskets, jewelry, money, or goods given to them by their employers. "This act," notes Sir J.F. Stephen (General View of the Criminal Law of England), "along with certain legal subtleties that allowed the servant’s possession to be seen as the master’s possession under specific circumstances, meant that when the servant misused the goods for personal gain, they effectively moved them from their position as a servant (which belonged to the master) to their position as a thief (which was a felony). This was deemed sufficient for practical purposes for over 200 years." In 1799, a clerk who used a check handed to him by a customer of his employer for his own benefit was found not guilty of felony; that same year, a new act was passed addressing this issue, stating that if any clerk or servant, or anyone acting in that capacity, received or took possession of any money, bonds, bills, etc., on behalf of their employer, and then fraudulently embezzled it, that person would be considered to have stolen it. This definition was largely reiterated in a Consolidation Act passed in 1827. Numerous challenges in interpretation emerged from these acts, such as the definition of "clerk or servant," and the distinction between theft and embezzlement, etc.
The law now in force, or the Larceny Act 1861, defines the offence thus (section 68):—“Whosoever, being a clerk or servant, or being employed for the purpose or in the capacity of a clerk or servant, shall fraudulently embezzle any chattel, money or valuable security which shall be delivered to or received or taken into possession by him for or in the name or on the account of his master or employer, or any part thereof, shall be deemed to have feloniously stolen the same from his master or employer, although such chattel, money or security was not received into the possession of such master or employer otherwise than by the actual possession of his clerk, servant or other person so employed, and being convicted thereof shall be liable, at the discretion of the court, to be kept in penal servitude for any time not exceeding fourteen years, and not less than three years,” or imprisonment with or without hard labour for not more than two years. To constitute the offence thus described three things must concur:—(1) The offender must be a clerk or servant; (2) he must receive into his possession some chattel on behalf of his master; and (3) he must fraudulently embezzle the same. A clerk or servant has been defined to be a person bound either by an express contract of service or by conduct implying such a contract to obey the orders and submit to the control of his master in the transaction of the business which it is his duty as such clerk or servant to transact. (Stephen’s Digest of the Criminal Law, Art. 309.)
The law currently in effect, or the Larceny Act 1861, defines the offense as follows (section 68):—“Anyone who, as a clerk or servant, or while employed in the role of a clerk or servant, fraudulently embezzles any property, money, or valuable asset that is given to or received or taken into their possession for the benefit of their master or employer, or any part of it, shall be considered to have stolen it from their master or employer, even if that property, money, or asset was only received into the possession of the clerk, servant, or person employed, and upon conviction, they may face, at the court's discretion, penal servitude for a period not exceeding fourteen years and not less than three years,” or imprisonment with or without hard labor for up to two years. To establish the offense described, three elements must be present:—(1) The offender must be a clerk or servant; (2) they must receive possession of some property on behalf of their master; and (3) they must fraudulently embezzle it. A clerk or servant has been defined as a person bound by a formal service contract or by actions that imply such a contract, who must obey the orders and follow the direction of their master in conducting the business they are responsible for as such clerk or servant. (Stephen’s Digest of the Criminal Law, Art. 309.)
The Larceny Act 1901, amending sections 75 and 76 of the Larceny Act 1861, also describes similar offences on the part of 308 persons, not being clerks or servants, to which the name embezzlement is not uncommonly applied. The act makes the offence of fraudulently misappropriating property entrusted to a person by another, or received by him on behalf of another a misdemeanour punishable by penal servitude for a term not exceeding seven years, or to imprisonment, with or without hard labour, for a term not exceeding two years. So also trustees fraudulently disposing of trust property, and directors of companies fraudulently appropriating the company’s property or keeping fraudulent accounts, or wilfully destroying books or publishing fraudulent statements, are misdemeanants punishable in the same way.
The Larceny Act 1901, which updates sections 75 and 76 of the Larceny Act 1861, also outlines similar offenses committed by individuals who are not clerks or employees, which are often referred to as embezzlement. The act defines the crime of fraudulently misappropriating property that has been entrusted to someone by another individual, or received by them on behalf of someone else, as a misdemeanor. This offense is punishable by up to seven years of penal servitude or imprisonment, with or without hard labor, for a term not exceeding two years. Additionally, trustees who fraudulently dispose of trust property, and company directors who fraudulently appropriate company property, maintain fraudulent accounts, willfully destroy records, or publish fraudulent statements, are also considered misdemeanants subject to the same penalties.
In the United States the law of embezzlement is founded mainly on the English statute passed in 1799, but the statutes of most states are so framed that larceny includes embezzlement. The latter is sometimes denominated statutory larceny. The punishment varies in the different states, otherwise there is little substantive difference in the laws of the two countries.
In the United States, the law regarding embezzlement is primarily based on the English statute enacted in 1799, but most states have laws that define larceny to include embezzlement. The latter is sometimes referred to as statutory larceny. The penalties differ among states, but overall, there is not much substantial difference between the laws in the two countries.
Statutes have been passed in some states providing that one indicted for larceny may be convicted of embezzlement. But it is doubtful whether such statutes are valid where the constitution of the state provides that the accused must be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation against him. (See also Larceny.)
Statutes have been enacted in some states allowing someone charged with theft to be found guilty of embezzlement. However, it's questionable whether these statutes are valid if the state constitution states that the accused must be informed of the nature and reason for the charges against them. (See also Larceny.)
EMBLEM (Gr. ἔμβλημα, something put in or inserted, from ἐμβάλλειν, to throw in), a word originally applied in Greek and Latin (emblema) to a raised or inlaid ornament on vases and other vessels, &c., and also to mosaic or tessellated work. It is in English confined to a symbolical representation of some object, particularly when used as a badge or heraldic device.
EMBLEM (Gr. emblem, something put in or inserted, from embedding, to throw in), a term that was originally used in Greek and Latin (emblema) to refer to a raised or inlaid decoration on vases and other containers, etc., as well as to mosaic or tiled artwork. In English, it’s specifically used to denote a symbolic representation of something, especially when it serves as a badge or heraldic symbol.
EMBLEMENTS (from O. Fr. emblavence de bled, i.e. corn sprung up above ground), a term applied in English law to the corn and other crops of the earth which are produced annually, not spontaneously, but by labour and industry. Emblements belong therefore to the class of fructus industriales, or “industrial growing crops” (Sale of Goods Act 1893, § 62). They include not only corn and grain of all kinds, but everything of an artificial and annual profit that is produced by labour and manuring, e.g. hemp, flax, hops, potatoes, artificial grasses like clover, but not fruit growing on trees, which come under the general rule quicquid plantatur solo, solo cedit. Emblements are included within the definition of goods in s. 62 of the Sale of Goods Act 1893. Where an estate of uncertain duration terminates unexpectedly by the death of the tenant, or some other event due to no fault of his own, the law gives to the personal representative the profits of crops of this nature as compensation for the tilling, manuring and sowing of the land. If the estate, although of uncertain duration, is determined by the tenant’s own acts, the right to emblements does not arise. The right to emblements has become of no importance in England since 1851, when it was provided by the Landlord and Tenant Act 1851 (s. 1) that any tenant at rack-rent, whose lease was determined by the death or cesser of the estate, of a landlord entitled only for his life, or for any other uncertain interest, shall, instead of emblements, be entitled to hold the lands until the expiration of the current year of his tenancy. The right to emblements still exists, however, in favour of (a) a tenant not within the Landlord and Tenant Act 1851, whose estate determines by an event which could not be foreseen, (b) the executor, as against the heir of the owner in fee of land in his own occupation, (c) an execution creditor under a writ directing seizure of goods and chattels. A person entitled to emblements may enter upon the lands after the determination of the tenancy for the purpose of cutting and carrying away the crops. Emblements are liable to distress by the landlord for arrears of rent, or rent during the period of holding on under the act of 1851 (the Distress for Rent Act 1737; see Bullen on Distress, 4th ed., 1893).
EMBLEMENTS (from Old French emblavence de bled, i.e. corn growing above ground), is a term used in English law for crops like corn and other plants that are grown each year through effort and work, not just by nature. Emblements fall into the category of fructus industriales, or "industrial crops" (Sale of Goods Act 1893, § 62). This includes not only all types of corn and grain but also any annual profit produced by labor and fertilization, like hemp, flax, hops, potatoes, and cultivated grasses such as clover, but excludes fruit from trees, which follows the general rule quicquid plantatur solo, solo cedit. Emblements are defined as goods in section 62 of the Sale of Goods Act 1893. If a lease of uncertain duration ends unexpectedly due to the tenant's death or another event beyond their control, the law allows the personal representative to take the profits from these crops as compensation for the work put into the land. However, if the lease is ended by the tenant's own actions, they lose the right to emblements. Since 1851, the right to emblements has become less significant in England due to the Landlord and Tenant Act 1851 (s. 1), which states that any tenant at rack-rent, whose lease ends due to the death or loss of the landlord's interest (if it was only for life or another uncertain term), is entitled to occupy the land until the end of their current rental year instead of claiming emblements. Nevertheless, the right to emblements still applies in certain cases: (a) for a tenant not covered by the Landlord and Tenant Act 1851, whose lease ends unexpectedly, (b) for an executor against the heir of the landowner living on the land, and (c) for a creditor with a court order to seize goods. A person entitled to emblements may enter the land after the tenancy ends to harvest and remove the crops. Emblements can still be seized by the landlord for unpaid rent or for rent during the period of holding under the act of 1851 (the Distress for Rent Act 1737; see Bullen on Distress, 4th ed., 1893).
The term “emblements” is unknown in Scots law, but the heir or representative of a life-rent tenant, a liferenter of lands, has an analogous right to reap the crop (on paying a proportion of the rent) and a right to recompense for labour in tilling the ground. The Landlord and Tenant Act 1851 (s. 1) was in force in Ireland till 1860, when it was replaced by the Land Act 1860, which gave to the tenant an almost identical right to emblements (s. 34).
The term “emblements” is not recognized in Scots law, but the heir or representative of a life-rent tenant, a liferenter of land, has a similar right to harvest the crop (after paying a portion of the rent) and a right to compensation for the work done in cultivating the land. The Landlord and Tenant Act 1851 (s. 1) was effective in Ireland until 1860, when it was replaced by the Land Act 1860, which granted the tenant a nearly identical right to emblements (s. 34).
In the United States the English common law of emblements has been generally preserved. In North Carolina there has been legislation on the lines of the English Landlord and Tenant Act 1851. In some states the tenant is entitled to compensation also from the person succeeding to the possession.
In the United States, the English common law regarding emblements has mostly been maintained. In North Carolina, laws similar to the English Landlord and Tenant Act of 1851 have been enacted. In some states, tenants are also entitled to compensation from whoever takes over possession.
Under the French Code Civil, the outgoing tenant is entitled to convenient housing for the consumption of his fodder and for the harvests remaining to be got in (art. 1777). The same rule is in force in Belgium (Code Civil, art. 1777); and in Holland (Civil Code, art. 1635) and Spain (art. 1578). Similar rights are secured to the tenant under the German Civil Code (arts. 592 et seq.). French law is in force in Mauritius. The common law of England and the Landlord and Tenant Act 1851 (14 & 15 Vict., c. 25, s. 1) are in force in many of the British colonies acquired by settlement. In other colonies they have been recognized by statute (e.g. Victoria, Landlord and Tenant Act 1890, No. 1108, ss. 45-48: Tasmania, Landlord and Tenant Act 1874, 38 Vict. No. 12).
Under the French Civil Code, the outgoing tenant has the right to reasonable housing for storing their fodder and for the remaining harvests (art. 1777). This same rule applies in Belgium (Civil Code, art. 1777); in the Netherlands (Civil Code, art. 1635) and Spain (art. 1578). The German Civil Code also secures similar rights for tenants (arts. 592 et seq.). French law is applicable in Mauritius. The common law of England and the Landlord and Tenant Act 1851 (14 & 15 Vict., c. 25, s. 1) are effective in many British colonies established by settlement. In other colonies, these rights have been recognized by law (e.g., Victoria, Landlord and Tenant Act 1890, No. 1108, ss. 45-48; Tasmania, Landlord and Tenant Act 1874, 38 Vict. No. 12).
Authorities.—English Law: Fawcett on the Law of Landlord and Tenant (3rd ed., London, 1905); Foà, Landlord and Tenant (4th ed., London, 1907). Scots Law: Bell’s Principles (10th ed., Edinburgh, 1899). Irish Law: Noland and Kanes, Statutes relating to the Law of Landlord and Tenant in Ireland (10th ed.), by Kelly (Dublin, 1898). American Law: Stimson, American Statute Law (Boston, 1886); Bouvier, Law Dictionary, ed. by Rawle (Boston and London, 1897); Ruling Cases (London and Boston, 1894-1901), tit. “Emblements” (American Notes).
Authorities.—English Law: Fawcett on the Law of Landlord and Tenant (3rd ed., London, 1905); Foà, Landlord and Tenant (4th ed., London, 1907). Scots Law: Bell’s Principles (10th ed., Edinburgh, 1899). Irish Law: Noland and Kanes, Statutes relating to the Law of Landlord and Tenant in Ireland (10th ed.), by Kelly (Dublin, 1898). American Law: Stimson, American Statute Law (Boston, 1886); Bouvier, Law Dictionary, ed. by Rawle (Boston and London, 1897); Ruling Cases (London and Boston, 1894-1901), tit. “Emblements” (American Notes).
EMBOSSING, the art of producing raised portions or patterns on the surface of metal, leather, textile fabrics, cardboard, paper and similar substances. Strictly speaking, the term is applicable only to raised impressions produced by means of engraved dies or plates brought forcibly to bear on the material to be embossed, by various means, according to the nature of the substance acted on. Thus raised patterns produced by carving, chiselling, casting and chasing or hammering are excluded from the range of embossed work. Embossing supplies a convenient and expeditious medium for producing elegant ornamental effects in many distinct industries; and especially in its relations to paper and cardboard its applications are varied and important. Crests, monograms, addresses, &c., are embossed on paper and envelopes from dies set in small handscrew presses, a force or counter-die being prepared in leather faced with a coating of gutta-percha. The dies to be used for plain embossing are generally cut deeper than those intended to be used with colours. Colour embossing is done in two ways—the first and ordinary kind that in which the ink is applied to the raised portion of the design. The colour in this case is spread on the die with a brush and the whole surface is carefully cleaned, leaving only ink in the depressed parts of the engraving. In the second variety—called cameo embossing—the colour is applied to the flat parts of the design by means of a small printing roller, and the letters or design in relief is left uncoloured. In embossing large ornamental designs, engraved plates or electrotypes therefrom are employed, the force or counterpart being composed of mill-board faced with gutta-percha. In working these, powerful screw-presses, in principle like coining or medal-striking presses, are employed. Embossing is also most extensively practised for ornamental purposes in the art of bookbinding. The blocked ornaments on cloth covers for books, and the blocking or imitation tooling on the cheaper kinds of leather work, are effected by means of powerful embossing or arming presses. (See Book-binding.) For impressing embossed patterns on wall-papers, textiles of various kinds, and felt, cylinders of copper, engraved with the patterns to be raised, are employed, and these are mounted in calender frames, in which they press against rollers having a yielding surface, or so constructed that depressions in the engraved cylinders fit into corresponding elevations in those against which they press. The operations of embossing and colour printing are also sometimes effected together in a modification of the ordinary cylinder printing machine used in calico-printing, in which it is only necessary to introduce suitably engraved cylinders. For many purposes the embossing rollers must be maintained at a high temperature while in operation; and they are heated either by steam, by gas jets, or by the 309 introduction of red-hot irons within them. The stamped or struck ornaments in sheet metal, used especially in connexion with the brass and Britannia-metal trades, are obtained by a process of embossing—hard steel dies with forces or counterparts of soft metal being used in their production. A kind of embossed ornament is formed on the surface of soft wood by first compressing and consequently sinking the parts intended to be embossed, then planing the whole surface level, after which, when the wood is placed in water, the previously depressed portion swells up and rises to its original level. Thus an embossed pattern is produced which may be subsequently sharpened and finished by the ordinary process of carving (see Chasing and Repoussé).
EMBOSSING, the art of creating raised designs or patterns on the surface of metal, leather, fabric, cardboard, paper, and similar materials. Technically, the term refers specifically to raised impressions made using engraved dies or plates that are pressed onto the material by various methods, depending on its nature. Therefore, raised designs made by carving, chiseling, casting, or hammering are not considered embossed work. Embossing offers a quick and effective way to create elegant decorative effects in various industries; particularly in its application to paper and cardboard, its uses are diverse and significant. Crests, monograms, addresses, etc., are embossed on paper and envelopes using dies set in small hand-operated presses, with a counter-die made of leather covered with a layer of gutta-percha. The dies used for plain embossing are usually cut deeper than those intended for color embossing. Color embossing occurs in two ways—the first and most common method involves applying ink to the raised parts of the design. In this case, the ink is spread on the die with a brush, and the entire surface is carefully cleaned, leaving ink only in the recessed areas of the engraving. The second method—called cameo embossing—applies color to the flat areas of the design using a small printing roller, leaving the raised letters or design uncolored. For large ornamental designs, engraved plates or electrotypes are used, with the counterpart made of millboard covered with gutta-percha. Powerful screw presses, similar in concept to coin or medal-pressing machines, are used for these operations. Embossing is also widely used for decorative purposes in bookbinding. The blocked designs on cloth covers for books, as well as the blocking or imitation tooling on less expensive leather goods, are created using powerful embossing or arming presses. (See Book-binding.) To impress embossed patterns on wallpaper, various fabrics, and felt, copper cylinders engraved with the desired patterns are used and mounted in calender frames, where they press against rollers with a yielding surface, or are designed so that depressions in the engraved cylinders correspond with elevations in those they press against. The processes of embossing and color printing are occasionally combined in a modified version of the standard cylinder printing machine used in calico-printing, which only requires suitably engraved cylinders to be introduced. For many purposes, the embossing rollers need to be kept at high temperatures while in use; they are heated either by steam, gas jets, or by inserting red-hot irons inside them. The stamped or struck ornaments made from sheet metal, particularly in the brass and Britannia metal trades, are produced through embossing—using hard steel dies with softer metal counterparts. A type of embossed ornament can also be formed on the surface of soft wood by first compressing and sinking the intended areas, then planing the entire surface level; when the wood is placed in water, the previously depressed areas swell back up to their original height, creating an embossed pattern that can be refined and finished through standard carving techniques (see Chasing and Repoussé).
EMBRACERY (from the O. Fr. embraseour, an embracer, i.e. one who excites or instigates, literally one who sets on fire, from embraser, to kindle a fire; “embrace,” i.e. to hold or clasp in the arms, is from O. Fr. embracer, Lat. in and bracchia, arms), in law, the attempting to influence a juryman corruptly to give his verdict in favour of one side or the other in a trial, by promise, persuasions, entreaties, money, entertainments and the like. It is an offence both at common law and by statute, and punishable by fine and imprisonment. As a statutory offence it dates back to 1360. The offence is complete, whether any verdict has been given or not, and whether the verdict is in accordance with the weight of evidence or otherwise. The person making the attempt, and any juryman who consents, are equally punishable. The false verdict of a jury, whether occasioned by embracery or otherwise, was formerly considered criminal, and jurors were severely punished, being proceeded against by writ of attaint (q.v.). The Juries Act of 1825, in abolishing writs of attaint, made a special exemption as regards jurors guilty of embracery (§ 61). Prosecution for the offence has been so extremely rare that when a case occurred in 1891 (R. v. Baker, 113, Cent. Crim. Ct. Sess. Pap. 374) it was stated that no precedent could be found for the indictment. The defendant was fined £200, afterwards reduced to £100.
EMBRACERY (from Old French embraseour, an embracer, meaning one who excites or instigates, literally one who sets on fire, from embraser, to kindle a fire; “embrace,” meaning to hold or clasp in the arms, comes from Old French embracer, Latin in and bracchia, arms), in law, refers to the attempt to corruptly influence a juror to give a verdict in favor of one side or the other in a trial through promises, persuasion, entreaties, money, entertainment, and similar methods. It is an offense under common law and by statute, punishable by fines and imprisonment. As a statutory offense, it dates back to 1360. The offense is complete, regardless of whether a verdict has been given or not, and whether the verdict aligns with the evidence or not. The person making the attempt, and any juror who agrees, are equally punishable. Historically, a false verdict from a jury, whether caused by embracery or otherwise, was considered criminal, and jurors faced serious punishment, being subject to writ of attaint (q.v.). The Juries Act of 1825, by abolishing writs of attaint, made a special exception for jurors guilty of embracery (§ 61). Prosecutions for this offense have been extremely rare; when a case arose in 1891 (R. v. Baker, 113, Cent. Crim. Ct. Sess. Pap. 374), it was noted that no precedent could be found for the indictment. The defendant was fined £200, which was later reduced to £100.
EMBRASURE, in architecture, the opening in a battlement between the two raised solid portions or merlons, sometimes called a crenelle (see Battlement, Crenelle); also the splay of a window.
EMBRASURE, in architecture, is the gap in a battlement between the two elevated solid parts or merlons, sometimes referred to as a crenelle (see Battlement, Crenelle); it also refers to the angle of a window.
EMBROIDERY (M.E. embrouderie, from O. Fr. embroder, Mod. Fr. broder), the ornamentation of textile fabrics and other materials with needlework. The beginnings of the art of embroidery probably date back to a very primitive stage in the history of all peoples, since plain stitching must have been one of the earliest attainments of mankind, and from that it is but a short step to decorative needlework of some kind. The discovery of needles among the relics of Swiss lake-dwellings shows that their primitive inhabitants were at least acquainted with the art of stitching.
EMBROIDERY (M.E. embrouderie, from O. Fr. embroder, Mod. Fr. broder), the decoration of textiles and other materials using needlework. The origins of embroidery likely trace back to a very early stage in human history, since basic stitching must have been one of the first skills developed by people, and it’s just a small leap to decorative needlework from there. The discovery of needles among the artifacts in Swiss lake-dwellings indicates that their early inhabitants were at least familiar with the art of stitching.
Plate I.
Plate 1.
![]() |
Fig. 6.—PANEL OF PETIT-POINT EMBROIDERY, WITH A REPRESENTATION OF COURTLY FIGURES IN A LANDSCAPE. English work of the end of the reign of Queen Elizabeth. Scale: 1⁄6th. |
![]() |
Fig. 7.—PORTION OF THE “BAYEUX TAPESTRY,” A BAND OF EMBROIDERY WITH THE STORY OF THE NORMAN CONQUEST OF ENGLAND. In the museum at Bayeux, 11th century work. Scale: ¼th. |
Plate II.
Plate 2.
![]() |
Fig. 8.—HANGING OF WOOLLEN CLOTH, EMBROIDERED WITH THE FIVE WISE AND THE FIVE FOOLISH VIRGINS. German work, dated 1598. Scale: 1⁄10th. |
![]() |
Fig. 9.—PORTION OF THE ORPHREY OF THE “SYON COPE,” EMBROIDERED WITH SHIELDS OF ARMS. The cope, formerly in the monastery of Syon near Isleworth, is now in the Victoria and Albert Museum. English work of the 13th century. Scale: 5⁄16ths. |
![]() |
Fig. 10.—PORTION OF A BAND OF LOOSE LINEN, EMBROIDERED IN WHITE THREAD WITH FIGURES AND ANIMALS. German work of the later part of the 14th century. Scale: 2⁄7ths. |
In concerning ourselves solely with those periods of which examples survive, we must pass over a wide gap and begin with the anciently-civilized land of Egypt. The sandy soil and dry climate of that country have led to the preservation of woven stuffs and embroideries of unique historic interest. The principal, and by far the earliest, known pieces which have a bearing on the present subject, found in 1903 in the tomb of Tethmosis (Thoutmôsis, or Thothmes) IV. at Thebes, are now in the Cairo Museum. There are three fragments, entirely of linen, inwrought with patterns in blue, red, green and black (fig. 1). A kind of tapestry method is used, the patterns being wrought upon the warp threads of the ground, instead of upon the finished web or woven material. Such a process, generally supplemented, as in this case, by a few stitches of fine needlework, was still in common use at a far later time. The largest of the three fragments at Cairo bears, in addition to rows of lotus flowers and papyrus inflorescences, a cartouche containing the name of Amenophis (Amenhotep) II. (c. 15th century B.C.); another is inwrought with the name of Tethmosis III. (c. 16th century B.C.).1
In focusing only on those periods for which we have examples, we need to skip over a significant gap and start with the ancient civilization of Egypt. The sandy soil and dry climate there have helped preserve woven textiles and embroideries of great historical significance. The main and earliest known pieces relevant to our topic were discovered in 1903 in the tomb of Tethmosis (Thoutmôsis or Thothmes) IV at Thebes, and are now housed in the Cairo Museum. There are three fragments made entirely of linen, adorned with patterns in blue, red, green, and black (fig. 1). A tapestry technique is used, where patterns are woven into the warp threads instead of on the finished fabric. This process, often enhanced by a few stitches of fine needlework, was still commonly used much later on. The largest of the three fragments in Cairo features rows of lotus flowers and papyrus blossoms, along with a cartouche containing the name of Amenophis (Amenhotep) II. (c. 15th century B.C.); another is decorated with the name of Tethmosis III. (c. 16th century B.C.).1
![]() |
Fig. 1.—Fragment of a linen robe, found in the tomb of Tethmosis (Thothmes) IV. at Thebes, and now in the Cairo Museum. The cartouche has the name of Amenophis (Amenhotep) II. (c. 15th century BCE). |
No other embroidered stuffs which can be assigned to so early a date have hitherto come to light in the Nile valley (nor indeed elsewhere), and the student who wishes to gain a fuller knowledge of the textile patterns of the ancient Egyptians must be referred to the wall-paintings and sculptured reliefs which have been preserved in considerable numbers.
No other embroidered items from such an early date have been found in the Nile valley (or anywhere else, for that matter), and anyone looking to learn more about the textile patterns of ancient Egyptians should check out the wall paintings and sculpted reliefs that have been well-preserved.
From the ancient civilizations of Babylon and Assyria no fragments of embroidery, nor even of woven stuffs, have come down to us. The fine series of wall-reliefs from Nineveh in the British Museum give some idea of the geometrical and floral patterns and diapers which adorned the robes of the ancient Assyrians. The discovery of the ruins of the palace of Darius I. (521-485 B.C.) at Susa in 1885 has thrown some light upon the textile art of the ancient Persians. They evidently owed much to the nations whom they had supplanted. The famous relief from this palace (now in the Louvre) represents a procession of archers, wearing long robes covered with small diaper patterns, perhaps of embroidery.
From the ancient civilizations of Babylon and Assyria, no pieces of embroidery or even woven fabrics have survived. The impressive collection of wall reliefs from Nineveh in the British Museum gives us a glimpse of the geometric and floral patterns that decorated the robes of the ancient Assyrians. The discovery of Darius I's palace ruins (521-485 BCE) in Susa in 1885 has shed some light on the textile art of the ancient Persians. They clearly borrowed a lot from the nations they had replaced. The famous relief from this palace (now in the Louvre) depicts a procession of archers wearing long robes adorned with small patterned designs, possibly from embroidery.
The exact significance of the words used in the book of Exodus in describing the robes of Aaron (ch. xxviii.) and the hangings and ornaments of the Tabernacle (ch. xxvi.) cannot be determined, and the “broidered work” of the prophecy of Ezekiel (ch. xxvii.) at a later time is also of uncertain meaning. It seems likely that much of this ancient work was of the tapestry class, such as we have found in the early fragments from Thebes.
The exact meaning of the words in the book of Exodus that describe Aaron's robes (ch. xxviii.) and the hangings and decorations of the Tabernacle (ch. xxvi.) is unclear, and the "embroidered work" mentioned in Ezekiel's prophecy (ch. xxvii.) later on is also vague. It seems likely that a lot of this ancient work was similar to tapestries, like those we’ve found in early fragments from Thebes.
The methods of the ancient Greek embroiderer, or “variegator” (ποικιλτής) to whom woven garments were submitted 310 for enrichment, can only be conjectured. The peplos or woven cloth made every fifth year to cover or shade the statue of Athena in the Parthenon at Athens, and carried at the Panathenaic festival,2 was ornamented with the battles of the gods and giants. The late Dr J.H. Middleton thought that very possibly most of the elaborate work upon these peploi was done by the needle. That true embroidery, in the modern sense—the decoration by means of the needle of a finished woven material—was practised among the ancient Greeks, has been demonstrated by the finding of some textile fragments in graves in the Crimea; these are now in the Hermitage at St Petersburg. One of them, of purple woollen material, from a tomb assigned to the 4th century B.C., is embroidered in wools of different colours with a man on horseback, honeysuckle ornament and tendrils. Another woollen piece, attributed to the following century, has a stem and arrow-head leaves worked in gold thread.3
The methods of the ancient Greek embroiderer, or “variegator” (ποικιλτής), who received woven garments for embellishment, can only be guessed at. The peplos, or woven cloth made every five years to cover or shade the statue of Athena at the Parthenon in Athens and carried during the Panathenaic festival, was decorated with scenes of battles between gods and giants. The late Dr. J.H. Middleton suggested that likely most of the intricate work on these peploi was done by hand. The existence of true embroidery, as we understand it today—using a needle to decorate completed woven fabric—was proven by the discovery of some textile fragments in graves in Crimea; these are now housed in the Hermitage in St. Petersburg. One piece, made of purple wool, from a tomb dated to the 4th century BCE, is embroidered in various colored wools featuring a man on horseback along with honeysuckle patterns and tendrils. Another wool piece, from the following century, has a design of stems and arrow-head leaves worked in gold thread. 3
In turning to ancient Rome, it is well first briefly to notice Pliny’s account of the craft (Nat. Hist. viii.), as recording the views current in Rome at his time (1st century A.D.). After relating that Homer mentions embroidered garments (pictas vestes), he states that the Phrygians first used the needle for embroidered robes, which were thence called Phrygionian (Phrygioniae), and that Attalic garments were named from Attalus II., king of Pergamum (159-138 B.C.), the inventor of the art of embroidering in gold. He further relates that Babylon gave the name to embroideries of divers colours, for the production of which that city was famous. By the Romans the art was designated as “painting with the needle” (acu pingere), a term used by Virgil in speaking of the decoration of robes, by Ovid (who describes it as an art taught by Minerva), and by Roman writers generally when referring to embroidery.4 It is to be regretted that no examples have been discovered in the neighbourhood of the Roman capital. For embroideries made under Roman influence we must again look to Egypt. They formed the decoration of garments5 and mummy-wrappings from the cemeteries in Upper and Middle Egypt, which have been so extensively rifled of late years. Those of Roman type date approximately from the first five centuries of the Christian era. The earliest represent human figures, animals, birds, geometrical and interlacing ornaments, vases, fruit, flowers and foliage (especially the vine). They are generally done in purple wool and undyed linen thread by the tapestry process employed in Egypt at least fifteen centuries earlier, as we have seen; most of the patterns have had the lines more clearly marked out by the ordinary method of needlework. Towards the end of this period a greater choice of colours is seen, and Christian symbols appear. At this time examples worked entirely upon the finished web are found (fig. 2). The transition is easy from such work to the veritable “needle-paintings,” representing scenes from the gospels, produced in Egypt shortly after (fig. 3). Such embroideries are evidently akin to those mentioned by Bishop Asterius (330-410), who describes the garments worn by effeminate Christians as painted like the walls of their houses.6
In looking at ancient Rome, it’s important to first briefly mention Pliny’s account of the craft (Nat. Hist. viii.), which reflects the views prevalent in Rome during his time (1st century CE). After noting that Homer spoke of embroidered garments (pictas vestes), he claims that the Phrygians were the first to use the needle for embroidered robes, which were then referred to as Phrygionian (Phrygioniae), and that garments from Attalus II., the king of Pergamum (159-138 BCE), were named after him for inventing the technique of embroidering in gold. He also notes that Babylon became known for its colorful embroideries, for which the city was famous. The Romans referred to the art as “painting with the needle” (acu pingere), a term used by Virgil when discussing robe decorations, by Ovid (who describes it as an art taught by Minerva), and by Roman writers in general when talking about embroidery.4 It’s unfortunate that no examples have been found in the area around the Roman capital. For embroideries influenced by Roman styles, we must once again look to Egypt. They served as decorations for garments5 and mummy wrappings from cemeteries in Upper and Middle Egypt, which have been extensively excavated in recent years. Those of Roman origin date roughly from the first five centuries of the Christian era. The earliest pieces depict human figures, animals, birds, geometric patterns, vases, fruits, flowers, and foliage (especially vines). They are typically created using purple wool and undyed linen thread through the tapestry technique utilized in Egypt at least fifteen centuries earlier, as we have noted; most patterns show more clearly defined lines through conventional needlework methods. As this period progresses, a wider variety of colors appears, and Christian symbols emerge. At this time, examples completely worked on the finished fabric can be found (fig. 2). The transition from such work to actual “needle-paintings,” depicting scenes from the gospels, produced in Egypt shortly afterward, is seamless (fig. 3). These embroideries are clearly similar to those described by Bishop Asterius (330-410), who details the garments worn by effeminate Christians as being painted like the walls of their homes.6
From the time of Justinian (527-565) onwards for some centuries, the art of Europe, embroidery with the rest, was dominated by that of the Byzantine empire. To trace the progress of the highly conventionalized Byzantine style, becoming more rigid and stereotyped as time passes, belongs to the general history of art, and such a task cannot be attempted here. Perhaps the most remarkable example of all which have survived to illustrate the work of the Byzantine embroiderers is the blue silk robe known as the dalmatic of Charlemagne or of Leo III., in the sacristy of St Peter’s at Rome (fig. 4). According to the present consensus of opinion it belongs to a later time than either of those dignitaries, dating most probably from the 12th century.7 In front is represented Christ enthroned as Judge of the world, a youthful but majestic figure; on the back is the Transfiguration. These, as well as the minor subjects, are explained by Greek inscriptions. The wide influence of Byzantine art gradually died out after the Latin sack of Constantinople in the year 1204, although the style lingered, and lingers still, in certain localities, notably at Mount Athos.
From the time of Justinian (527-565) onwards for several centuries, European art, including embroidery, was dominated by the Byzantine empire. Tracing the evolution of the highly stylized Byzantine style, which became more rigid and formulaic over time, is part of the broader history of art, and that task can't be undertaken here. Perhaps the most notable example that has survived to showcase the work of Byzantine embroiderers is the blue silk robe known as the dalmatic of Charlemagne or Leo III, located in the sacristy of St. Peter’s in Rome (fig. 4). According to current consensus, it is from a later period than either of those figures, likely dating to the 12th century. In front, Christ is depicted as the Judge of the world, a youthful but majestic figure; on the back, there is the Transfiguration. These, along with the smaller subjects, are explained by Greek inscriptions. The widespread influence of Byzantine art gradually faded after the Latin sack of Constantinople in 1204, although the style lingered, and still lingers, in certain areas, particularly at Mount Athos.
![]() |
Fig. 2.—Embroidered panel from a linen garment, with a jewelled cross and two birds within a wreath. Found in a cemetery at Akhmīm, Upper Egypt. Egypto-Roman work of the 4th or 5th century CE |
![]() |
Fig. 3.—Embroidered panel from a linen garment, with a representation of the Annunciation and the Salutation. Found in a cemetery in Egypt. Coptic work of the 6th or 7th century CE |
Palermo in Sicily succeeded Byzantium as the capital of the 311 arts in Europe, although its ascendancy was of brief duration. Under the Norman kings of Sicily the style was strongly oriental, consequent upon the earlier occupation of the island by the Saracens, and upon the employment of Saracenic craftsmen by the Normans. The magnificent red silk mantle at Vienna, embroidered in gold thread with a date-palm and two lions springing upon camels, and enriched with pearls and enamel plaques, bears round the edge an Arabic inscription, recording that it was made in the royal factory of the capital of Sicily (Palermo) in the year 528 (= A.D. 1134). At that time Roger, the first Norman king, was on the throne. Another of the imperial coronation-robes—a linen alb with gold embroidery—is also at Vienna.8 An inscription in Latin and Arabic states that it was made in the year 1181, under the reign of William II. (Norman king of Sicily, 1166-1189).
Palermo in Sicily took over as the capital of the arts in Europe after Byzantium, but its rise was short-lived. During the time of the Norman kings of Sicily, the artistic style was heavily influenced by the East, due to the earlier occupation of the island by the Saracens and the use of Saracenic craftsmen by the Normans. The stunning red silk mantle in Vienna, embroidered with gold thread featuring a date-palm and two lions leaping onto camels, adorned with pearls and enamel plaques, has an Arabic inscription along the edge, noting that it was created in the royal workshop of the capital of Sicily (Palermo) in the year 528 (A.D. 1134). At that time, Roger, the first Norman king, was on the throne. Another ceremonial coronation robe—a linen alb with gold embroidery—is also in Vienna. An inscription in Latin and Arabic indicates it was made in the year 1181, during the reign of William II (Norman king of Sicily, 1166-1189).
![]() |
Fig. 4.—Embroidered robe known as the “Dalmatic of Charlemagne,” or of Leo III., preserved in the sacristy of St Peter’s at Rome. Byzantine work, probably of the 12th century. |
From about that time distinct national styles began to develop in different places. In tracing the progress of the embroiderer’s art during the middle ages we must rely mainly upon the many fine examples of ecclesiastical work which have been preserved. The costumes of men and women, as well as curtains and hangings and such articles of domestic use, were often richly adorned with embroidery. These have mostly perished; while the careful preservation and comparatively infrequent use of the vestments and other objects devoted to the service of the church have given us tangible evidence of the attainments of the medieval embroiderer. Much of this work was produced in convents, but old documents show that in monasteries also were to be found men known for their skill in needlework. Other names, both of men and women, are recorded, showing that the craft was by no means exclusively confined to monastic foundations. Gilds of embroiderers existed far back in medieval times.
From around that time, distinct national styles started to emerge in different regions. To understand the development of embroidery during the Middle Ages, we mainly have to look at the many fine examples of ecclesiastical work that have been preserved. The clothing of men and women, as well as curtains, hangings, and various household items, were often richly decorated with embroidery. Most of these have unfortunately perished; however, the careful preservation and relatively infrequent use of vestments and other items for church services have provided us with tangible evidence of the skills of medieval embroiderers. Much of this work was created in convents, but old documents also indicate that monasteries housed skilled needleworkers. Other names, both male and female, have been recorded, showing that the craft was definitely not limited to monastic settings. Guilds of embroiderers existed long ago in medieval times.
In England the craft has been a favourite employment for many centuries, and persons of all ranks have occupied their spare hours at needlework. Some embroidered fragments, found in 1826-1827 in the tomb of St Cuthbert at Durham, and now kept in the cathedral library, were worked, chiefly in gold thread, by order of Ælfflæda, queen of Edward the Elder, for Fridestan, bishop of Winchester, early in the 10th century. In the later part of the following century the “Bayeux tapestry” was produced—a work of unique importance (Plate I. fig. 7). It is a band of linen, more than 230 ft. long, embroidered in coloured wools with the story of the Norman conquest of England. (See Bayeux Tapestry.)
In England, needlework has been a popular pastime for many centuries, with people from all walks of life spending their free time on it. Some embroidered pieces, discovered in 1826-1827 in St. Cuthbert's tomb at Durham and now housed in the cathedral library, were created mainly with gold thread on the orders of Ælfflæda, queen of Edward the Elder, for Fridestan, bishop of Winchester, in the early 10th century. Later, in the following century, the "Bayeux tapestry" was made—a work of significant importance (Plate I. fig. 7). It is a strip of linen, over 230 ft. long, embroidered in colored wools depicting the story of the Norman conquest of England. (See Bayeux Tapestry.)
Some fragments of metallic embroidery on silk, of the 12th and 13th centuries, may be seen in the library of Worcester cathedral. They were removed from the coffins of two bishops, William de Blois (1218-1236) and Walter de Cantelupe (1236-1266). A fragment of gold embroidery from the tomb of the latter bishop is preserved in the Victoria and Albert Museum at South Kensington, and others are in the British Museum. In the 13th century English embroidery was famous throughout western Europe, and many embroidered objects are described in inventories of that time as being de opere anglicano. During that century, and the early part of the next, English work was at its best. The most famous example is the “Syon cope” at South Kensington, belonging to the latter half of the 13th century (see Cope, Plate I. fig. 2). It represents the coronation of the Virgin, the Crucifixion, the archangel Michael transfixing the dragon, the death and burial of the Virgin, our Lord meeting Mary Magdalene in the garden, the Apostles and the hierarchies of angels. The broad orphrey is embroidered with a series of heraldic shields (Plate II. fig. 9). Other embroideries of the period are at Steeple Aston, Chesterfield (Col. Butler-Bowden), Victoria and Albert and British museums, Rome (St John Lateran), Bologna, Pienza, Anagni, Ascoli, St Bertrand de Comminges, Lyons museum, Madrid (archaeological museum), Toledo and Vich.
Some pieces of metallic embroidery on silk from the 12th and 13th centuries can be seen in the library of Worcester Cathedral. They were taken from the coffins of two bishops, William de Blois (1218-1236) and Walter de Cantelupe (1236-1266). A piece of gold embroidery from the tomb of the latter bishop is housed in the Victoria and Albert Museum in South Kensington, with more pieces at the British Museum. In the 13th century, English embroidery was renowned across western Europe, and many embroidered items from that time are noted in inventories as being de opere anglicano. During that century, and the early part of the next, English embroidery reached its peak. The most famous example is the “Syon cope” at South Kensington, dating from the latter half of the 13th century (see Cope, Plate I. fig. 2). It depicts the coronation of the Virgin, the Crucifixion, the archangel Michael defeating the dragon, the death and burial of the Virgin, our Lord meeting Mary Magdalene in the garden, the Apostles, and the hierarchies of angels. The wide orphrey features a series of heraldic shields (Plate II. fig. 9). Other embroideries from this period can be found at Steeple Aston, Chesterfield (Col. Butler-Bowden), the Victoria and Albert Museum and British Museum, Rome (St John Lateran), Bologna, Pienza, Anagni, Ascoli, St Bertrand de Comminges, the Lyons museum, and in Madrid (archaeological museum), Toledo, and Vich.
During the course of the 14th and 15th centuries embroideries produced in England were not equal to the earlier work. Towards the end of the latter century, and until the dissolution of the monasteries in the next, much ecclesiastical embroidery of effective design was done, and many examples are still to be seen in churches throughout the country. In the Tudor period the costumes of the wealthy were often richly adorned with needlework. The portraits of King Henry VIII., Queen Elizabeth and their courtiers show how magnificent was the embroidery used for such purposes. Many examples, especially of the latter reign, worked with very effective and beautiful floral patterns, have come down to these times. A kind of embroidery known as “black work”, done in black silk on linen, was popular during the same reign. A tunic embroidered for Queen Elizabeth, with devices copied from contemporary woodcuts, is an excellent example of this work. It now belongs to the Viscount Falkland. Another class of work, popular at the same time, was closely worked in wools and silks on open-mesh material like canvas, which was entirely covered by the embroidery. Figures in rich costume were often introduced (Plate I. fig. 6). This method was much practised in France, and the term applied to it in that country, “au petit point,” has become generally used. Throughout the 17th and 18th centuries embroidery in England, though sometimes lacking in good taste, maintained generally a high standard, and that done to-day, based on the study of old examples, need not fear comparison with any modern work. During these three centuries bold floral patterns for hangings, curtains and coverlets have been usual (Plate III. fig. 13), but smaller works, such as samplers, covers of work-boxes, and pictorial and landscape subjects (fig. 5), have been produced in large numbers. In the 18th century gentlemen’s coats and waistcoats and ladies’ dresses were extensively embroidered.
During the 14th and 15th centuries, embroideries made in England didn’t match the quality of earlier works. However, towards the end of the 15th century and until the monasteries were dissolved in the following century, a lot of impressive ecclesiastical embroidery was created, and many examples can still be found in churches across the country. In the Tudor period, wealthy people's outfits were often richly decorated with needlework. Portraits of King Henry VIII, Queen Elizabeth, and their courtiers display the stunning embroidery used for these purposes. Many pieces, especially from the latter reign, featuring beautiful floral designs, have survived to this day. A type of embroidery called “black work,” done in black silk on linen, was also popular during this time. An embroidered tunic made for Queen Elizabeth, with designs inspired by contemporary woodcuts, is a great example of this style. It currently belongs to the Viscount Falkland. Another popular type of work from the same era involved closely worked wools and silks on open-mesh fabrics like canvas, completely covered by the embroidery. Richly dressed figures were frequently depicted (Plate I. fig. 6). This technique was widely practiced in France, and the term “au petit point” used in that country has become quite common. Throughout the 17th and 18th centuries, although sometimes lacking in good taste, embroidery in England generally maintained a high standard, and today’s work, inspired by older examples, can easily compete with modern creations. Over these three centuries, bold floral patterns for hangings, curtains, and coverlets became common (Plate III. fig. 13), but smaller projects, such as samplers, work-box covers, and pictorial and landscape subjects (fig. 5), were produced in large quantities. In the 18th century, gentlemen's coats and waistcoats, as well as ladies' dresses, were heavily embroidered.
In France, embroidery, like all the arts practised by that nation, has been characterized by much grace and beauty, and many good specimens belonging to different periods are known. The vestments associated with the name of St Thomas of Canterbury at Sens may be either of French or English work (12th century). To the later part of the following century belongs a band of embroidery, representing the coronation of the Virgin, the Adoration of the Magi, the presentation in the Temple, and other subjects beneath Gothic arches, preserved in the Hôtel-Dieu at Château Thierry. The mitre of Jean de Marigny, archbishop of Rouen (1347-1351), in the museum at Évreux, 312 embroidered with figures of St Peter and St Eloy, may be regarded as representative of 14th-century work. An altar-frontal with the Annunciation embroidered in silks and gold and silver upon a blue silk damask ground, now in the museum at Lille, is a very beautiful example of Franco-Flemish art in the second half of the 15th century. It was originally in the church at Noyelles-lez-Seclin. An embroidery more characteristically French, and belonging to the same century, is in the museum at Chartres. It is a triptych, having in the middle a pietà, on the left wing St John the Evangelist, and on the right St Catherine of Alexandria. Each leaf has a canopy of architecture represented in perspective. In the 16th century an effective style of embroidery was practised in France; the pattern is generally a graceful combination of floral and scroll forms, cut out of velvet, satin or silk, and applied to a thick woollen cloth. Later work, chiefly of a floral character, has served for the decoration of costumes, ecclesiastical vestments, curtains and hangings, and the seats and backs of chairs.
In France, embroidery, like all the arts practiced by that country, has been known for its elegance and beauty, and many excellent examples from different periods are recognized. The vestments linked to St. Thomas of Canterbury in Sens could be either French or English creations (12th century). From the later part of the following century comes a strip of embroidery depicting the coronation of the Virgin, the Adoration of the Magi, the presentation in the Temple, and other scenes beneath Gothic arches, preserved in the Hôtel-Dieu at Château Thierry. The mitre of Jean de Marigny, archbishop of Rouen (1347-1351), in the museum at Évreux, 312 embroidered with images of St. Peter and St. Eloy, represents 14th-century work. An altar-frontal featuring the Annunciation embroidered with silks and gold and silver on a blue silk damask background, now in the museum at Lille, is a stunning example of Franco-Flemish art from the second half of the 15th century. It was originally located in the church at Noyelles-lez-Seclin. Another embroidery that is more typically French, also from the same century, is housed in the museum at Chartres. It is a triptych featuring a pietà in the center, St. John the Evangelist on the left wing, and St. Catherine of Alexandria on the right. Each panel has an architectural canopy represented in perspective. In the 16th century, a distinctive style of embroidery emerged in France; the designs usually combine graceful floral and scroll patterns, cut from velvet, satin, or silk, and applied to a thick wool cloth. Later works, mostly floral in design, have been used to decorate costumes, ecclesiastical garments, curtains and hangings, as well as the seats and backs of chairs.
![]() |
Fig. 5.—Oval picture in silk embroidery: Fame scattering Flowers over Shakespeare’s Tomb. English work of the 18th century. |
Under the rule of the dukes of Burgundy in the 15th century art in the southern provinces of the Netherlands prospered greatly, and able artists were found to meet the wishes of those munificent rulers. The local schools of painting, which flourished under their patronage, appear to have very considerably influenced the embroiderers’ art. Great care and pains were given to reproduce as accurately as possible the painted cartoon or picture which served as the model. The heads are individualized, and the folds of the draperies are laboriously worked out in detail. The masonry of buildings, the veinings of marble, and the architectural enrichments are often represented with careful fidelity, and landscape backgrounds are shown in every detail. As in the case of the tapestries of the Netherlands—the finest which the world has seen—there can be no doubt that patrons of art and donors, when requiring embroideries to be made, secured the services of eminent painters for the designs. There are many examples of such careful work. A set of vestments known as the ornement de la Toison d’Or, now in the Hof-museum at Vienna, is embroidered in the most minute manner with sacred subjects and figures of saints and angels. The stiff disposal of many of these figures, within flattened hexagons arranged in zones, is not pleasing, but the needlework is most remarkable for skill and carefulness. They are of 15th-century work. A cope belonging to the second half of that century was given to the cathedral of Tournay by Guillaume Fillatre, abbot of St Bertin at St Omer, and bishop of Tournay (d. 1473). It is now in the museum there. Upon the orphreys and hood are represented the seven Works of Mercy. The body of the cope, of plain red velvet, is powdered with stags’ heads and martlets (the heraldic bearings of the bishop); between the antlers of the stags is worked in each case the initial letter of the bishop’s name, and the morse is embroidered with his arms. Some panels of embroidery, once decorating an altar in the abbey of Grimbergen, and now at Brussels, illustrate the best class of Flemish needlework in the 16th century. The scenes are taken from the Gospel: the marriage at Cana, Christ in the house of the Pharisee, Christ in the house of Zacchaeus, the Last Supper, and the supper at Emmaus. In the museum at Bern there are some embroideries of great historic and artistic interest, found in the tent of Charles the Bold, duke of Burgundy, after his defeat at Granson in 1476. They include some armorial panels and two tabards or heralds’ coats. A tabard of the following century, with the royal arms of Spain in applied work, and most probably of Flemish origin, is preserved in the archaeological museum at Ghent.
Under the rule of the dukes of Burgundy in the 15th century, art in the southern provinces of the Netherlands thrived significantly, and skilled artists were available to satisfy the desires of those generous rulers. The local painting schools, which blossomed under their support, seem to have heavily influenced the art of embroidery. Great care was taken to recreate the painted cartoon or picture that served as the model as accurately as possible. The faces are unique, and the folds of the draperies are meticulously detailed. The architecture of buildings, the patterns in marble, and the decorative elements are often depicted with careful accuracy, and landscape backgrounds are shown in every detail. As with the tapestries from the Netherlands—the finest in the world—there's no doubt that art patrons and donors, when requesting embroideries, engaged renowned painters for the designs. Numerous examples of such precise work exist. A set of vestments known as the ornement de la Toison d’Or, now in the Hof-museum in Vienna, is elaborately embroidered with sacred themes and images of saints and angels. The rigid arrangement of many figures in flattened hexagons set in zones is not visually appealing, but the needlework is outstanding in skill and precision. They are from the 15th century. A cope from the latter half of that century was given to the cathedral of Tournay by Guillaume Fillatre, abbot of St Bertin at St Omer, and bishop of Tournay (d. 1473). It is now housed in the museum there. The orphreys and hood depict the seven Works of Mercy. The body of the cope, made of plain red velvet, is adorned with stags’ heads and martlets (the bishop's heraldic symbols); the initial letter of the bishop’s name is embroidered between the stags' antlers, and the morse is embroidered with his coat of arms. Some embroidery panels, once decorating an altar at the abbey of Grimbergen and now in Brussels, showcase the best class of Flemish needlework from the 16th century. The scenes are taken from the Gospel: the marriage at Cana, Christ in the house of the Pharisee, Christ in the house of Zacchaeus, the Last Supper, and the supper at Emmaus. The museum in Bern has embroideries of great historical and artistic interest, discovered in the tent of Charles the Bold, duke of Burgundy, after his defeat at Granson in 1476. These include armorial panels and two tabards or heralds’ coats. A tabard from the following century, featuring the royal arms of Spain in applied work and likely of Flemish origin, is kept in the archaeological museum in Ghent.
The later art of Holland was largely influenced by the Dutch conquests in the East Indies at the end of the 16th century, and the subsequent founding of the Dutch East India Company. Embroideries were among the articles produced in the East under Dutch influence for exportation to Holland.
The later art of Holland was heavily influenced by the Dutch conquests in the East Indies at the end of the 16th century and the subsequent founding of the Dutch East India Company. Embroideries were among the items produced in the East under Dutch influence for export to Holland.
Much embroidery for ecclesiastical purposes has been executed in Belgium of late years. It follows medieval models, but is lacking in the qualities which make those of so much importance in the history of the art.
Much embroidery for church purposes has been made in Belgium in recent years. It follows medieval designs, but it lacks the qualities that make the originals so significant in the history of the art.
There is perhaps little worthy of special notice in Italy before the beginning of the 14th century, but the embroideries produced at that time show great skill and are very beautiful. The names of two Florentine embroiderers of the 14th century—both men—have come down to us, inscribed upon their handiwork. A fine frontal for an altar, very delicately worked in gold and silver and silks of many colours, is preserved in the archaeological museum at Florence. The subject in the middle is the coronation of the Virgin; on either side is an arcade with figures of apostles and saints. The embroiderer’s name is worked under the central subject: Jacobus Cambi de Florētia me fecit MCCCXXXVIII. The other example is in the basilica at Manresa in Spain. It also is an altar-frontal, worked in silk and gold upon an embroidered gold ground. There is a large central panel representing the Crucifixion, with nine scenes from the Gospel on each side. The embroidered inscription is as follows: Geri Lapi rachamatore me fecit in Florentia. It is of 14th-century work. An embroidered orphrey in the Victoria and Albert Museum belongs to the early part of the same century. It represents the Annunciation, the coronation of the Virgin and figures of apostles and saints beneath arches. In the spandrels are the orders of angels with their names in Italian. In the best period of Italian art successful painters did not disdain to design for embroidery. Francesco Squarcione (1394-1474), the founder of the Paduan school of painting, and master of Mantegna, is called in a document of the year 1423 a tailor and embroiderer (sartor et recamator). It is recorded that Antonio del Pollaiuolo painted cartoons which were carried out in embroidery,9 and Pierino del Vaga, according to Vasari, did likewise. In the 16th and 17th centuries large numbers of towels and linen covers were embroidered in red, green or brown silk with borders of floral patterns, sometimes (especially in the southern provinces) combined with figure subjects and bird and animal forms (Plate IV. fig. 15). Another type of embroidery popular at the same time, both in Italy and Spain, is known as appliqué (or applied) work. The pattern is cut out and applied to a bright-coloured ground, frequently of velvet, as in the example illustrated (Plate III. fig. 14). The later embroidery of Sicily follows that of the mainland. A remarkable coverlet, quilted and padded with wool so as to throw the design into relief, is shown to be of Sicilian origin by the inscriptions which it bears 313 (Plate VI. fig. 18). It represents scenes from the story of Tristan, agreeing in the main part with the novella entitled “La Tavola Rotonda o l’istoria di Tristano.” The quilt dates from the end of the 14th century. Many pattern-books for embroidery and lace were published in Italy in the 16th and 17th centuries.10
There isn’t much noteworthy to mention about Italy before the early 14th century, but the embroideries from that period exhibit remarkable skill and are truly beautiful. We still remember the names of two male Florentine embroiderers from the 14th century, as their names are stitched into their works. One stunning altar frontal, intricately done in gold, silver, and multicolored silks, is preserved in the archaeological museum in Florence. The central theme depicts the coronation of the Virgin, flanked by an arcade filled with figures of apostles and saints. The embroiderer’s name is stitched beneath the central image: Jacobus Cambi de Florētia me fecit MCCCXXXVIII. The other piece can be found in the basilica at Manresa, Spain. It’s also an altar frontal, created with silk and gold on an embroidered gold background. The large central panel shows the Crucifixion, with nine Gospel scenes on either side. The embroidered inscription reads: Geri Lapi rachamatore me fecit in Florentia. This work is from the 14th century. An embroidered orphrey in the Victoria and Albert Museum dates from the early part of that century. It depicts the Annunciation, the coronation of the Virgin, and figures of apostles and saints under arches. In the spandrels, there are angel orders with their names in Italian. During the peak of Italian art, successful painters were not above designing for embroidery. Francesco Squarcione (1394-1474), who founded the Paduan school of painting and mentored Mantegna, is referred to in a 1423 document as a tailor and embroiderer (sartor et recamator). It’s noted that Antonio del Pollaiuolo created cartoons that were turned into embroidery, and according to Vasari, Pierino del Vaga did the same. In the 16th and 17th centuries, many towels and linen covers were embroidered in red, green, or brown silk with floral borders, sometimes (especially in the southern provinces) featuring figures, birds, and animals (Plate IV. fig. 15). Another popular embroidery style at the time, both in Italy and Spain, is known as appliqué work. The pattern is cut out and applied to a brightly colored background, often velvet, as seen in the example illustrated (Plate III. fig. 14). Later Sicilian embroidery follows the mainland trends. A remarkable coverlet, quilted and padded with wool to create a raised design, indicates its Sicilian origin through its inscriptions. It depicts scenes from the story of Tristan, primarily aligning with the novella titled “La Tavola Rotonda o l’istoria di Tristano.” This quilt dates from the late 14th century. Many pattern books for embroidery and lace were published in Italy during the 16th and 17th centuries.10
Plate III.
Plate 3.
|
|
Plate IV.
Plate 4.
![]() |
Fig. 15.—PORTION OF THE BORDER OF A LINEN COVER, EMBROIDERED WITH A FIGURE OF ST CATHERINE OF ALEXANDRIA AND KNEELING VOTARIES. Italian work of the 16th century. Scale: 2⁄5ths. |
![]() |
Fig. 16.—LINEN BORDER, EMBROIDERED WITH DEBASED FIGURES, BIRDS AND ANIMALS AMID FLOWERS. Cretan work, dated 1762. Scale: 4⁄9ths. |
In the greater part of the Spanish peninsula art was for many centuries dominated by the Arabs, who overran the country in the 8th century, and were not finally subdued until the end of the 15th. Hispano-Moorish embroideries of the medieval period usually have interlacing patterns combined with Arabic inscriptions. In the 15th and 16th centuries Italian influence becomes evident. Later the effects of the Spanish conquests in Asia are seen. Eastern influence is, however, stronger in the case of the Portuguese, who seized Goa, on the west coast of the Indian peninsula, early in the 16th century, and during the whole of that century held the monopoly of the eastern trade. Many large embroideries were produced in the Indies, showing eastern floral patterns mingled with representations of Europeans, ships and coats of arms. Embroideries done in Portugal in the 16th and 17th centuries strongly reflect the influence of oriental patterns.
For many centuries, art in most of the Spanish peninsula was dominated by the Arabs, who invaded the country in the 8th century and weren't fully defeated until the end of the 15th. Hispano-Moorish embroideries from the medieval period often feature interlacing patterns mixed with Arabic inscriptions. In the 15th and 16th centuries, Italian influence became noticeable. Later, the impact of Spanish conquests in Asia emerged. However, Eastern influence was notably stronger for the Portuguese, who took over Goa on the west coast of the Indian peninsula in the early 16th century and maintained a monopoly on Eastern trade throughout that century. Many large embroideries produced in the Indies showcased Eastern floral designs blended with images of Europeans, ships, and coats of arms. Embroideries created in Portugal during the 16th and 17th centuries heavily reflected oriental patterns.
German embroidery of the 12th and 13th centuries adheres closely to the traditions of Byzantine art. A peculiarity of much medieval German work is a tendency to treat the draperies of the figures as flat surfaces to be covered with diaper patterns, showing no folds. A cope from Hildesheim cathedral, now in the Victoria and Albert Museum, is a typical illustration of such work, dating from the end of the 13th century. It is embroidered in silk upon linen with the martyrdom of apostles and saints. Other specimens of embroidery in this manner may be seen at Halberstadt. An altar-frontal from Rupertsburg (Bingen), belonging to the earlier years of the 13th century, is now in the Brussels museum. It is of purple silk, embroidered with Christ in majesty and figures of saints. It was no doubt made in the time of Siegfried, archbishop of Mainz (1201-1230), who is represented upon it. A type of medieval German embroidery is done in white linen thread on a loose linen ground—a sort of darning-work (Plate II. fig. 10). Earlier specimens of this work are often diversified by using a variety of stitches tending to form diaper patterns. The use of long scrolling bands with inscriptions explaining the subjects represented is more usual in German work than in that of any other country. In the 15th century much fine embroidery was produced in the neighbourhood of Cologne. Later German work shows a preference for bold floral patterns, sometimes mingled with heraldry; the larger examples are often worked in wool on a woollen cloth ground (Plate II. fig. 8). The embroidery of the northern nations (Denmark, Scandinavia, Iceland) was later in development than that of the southern peoples. Figure subjects evidently belonging to as late a period as the 17th century are still disposed in formal rows of circles, and accompanied by primitive ornamental forms (Plate III. fig. 12). A remarkable early embroidered fabric covers the relics of St Knud (Canute, king of Denmark, 1080-1086) in his shrine in the church dedicated to him at Odense. It is apparently contemporary work. The pattern consists of displayed eagles within oval compartments, in blue on a red ground.
German embroidery from the 12th and 13th centuries closely follows the traditions of Byzantine art. A unique feature of much medieval German work is the tendency to depict the draperies of figures as flat surfaces covered with diaper patterns, lacking folds. A cope from Hildesheim Cathedral, now in the Victoria and Albert Museum, exemplifies this style and dates from the late 13th century. It is embroidered in silk on linen, showcasing the martyrdom of apostles and saints. Other examples of this embroidery can be found in Halberstadt. An altar frontal from Rupertsburg (Bingen), which belongs to the early 13th century, is now housed in the Brussels Museum. It is made of purple silk and embroidered with Christ in majesty and figures of saints. It was likely created during the time of Siegfried, archbishop of Mainz (1201-1230), who is depicted on it. A specific type of medieval German embroidery is created with white linen thread on a loose linen background—a kind of darning-work (Plate II. fig. 10). Earlier examples of this work often use a variety of stitches that create diaper patterns. The use of long scrolling bands with inscriptions explaining the depicted subjects is more common in German work than in any other country. In the 15th century, much fine embroidery was produced near Cologne. Later German work favored bold floral patterns, sometimes combined with heraldry; larger pieces are often worked in wool on a woolen cloth background (Plate II. fig. 8). The embroidery of northern nations (Denmark, Scandinavia, Iceland) developed later than that of southern peoples. Figurative subjects clearly dating as late as the 17th century are still arranged in formal rows of circles, accompanied by primitive decorative forms (Plate III. fig. 12). A remarkable early embroidered fabric covers the relics of St. Knud (Canute, king of Denmark, 1080-1086) in his shrine at the church dedicated to him in Odense. It appears to be contemporary work, featuring a pattern of displayed eagles within oval compartments, in blue on a red background.
In Greece and the islands of the eastern Mediterranean embroidery has been much employed for the decoration of costumes, portières and bed-curtains. Large numbers have been acquired in Crete (Plate IV. fig. 16), and patterns of a distinctive character are also found in Rhodes, Cos, Patmos and other islands. Some examples show traces of the influence of the Venetian trading settlements in the archipelago in the 16th and 17th centuries. Among the Turks a great development of the arts followed upon the conquest of Asia Minor and the Byzantine territory in Europe. Their embroideries show a preference for floral forms—chiefly roses, tulips, carnations and hyacinths—which are treated with great decorative skill.
In Greece and the eastern Mediterranean islands, embroidery has been widely used to decorate costumes, curtains, and bedspreads. Many pieces have been collected in Crete (Plate IV. fig. 16), and unique patterns can also be found in Rhodes, Kos, Patmos, and other islands. Some examples reflect the influence of Venetian trading settlements in the archipelago during the 16th and 17th centuries. After the conquest of Asia Minor and Byzantine territory in Europe, the Turks greatly developed their arts. Their embroideries often feature floral designs—mainly roses, tulips, carnations, and hyacinths—which are crafted with impressive decorative skill.
The use of embroidery in Asia—especially in India, China, Turkestan and Persia—dates back to very early times. The conservatism of all these peoples renders the date of surviving examples often difficult to establish, but the greater number of such embroideries now to be seen in Europe are certainly of no great age.
The use of embroidery in Asia—especially in India, China, Turkestan, and Persia—goes back to ancient times. The traditional nature of these cultures makes it tough to determine the exact dates of surviving examples, but the majority of theembroideries currently found in Europe are definitely not very old.
India has produced vast quantities of embroideries of varying excellence. The fine woollen shawls of Kashmir are widely famed; their first production is supposed to date back to a remote period. The somewhat gaudy effect of many Indian embroideries is at times intensified by the addition of beetles’ wings, tinsel or fragments of looking-glass. China is the original home of the silkworm, and the textile arts there reached an advanced stage at a date long before that of any equally skilful work in Europe. Embroideries worked there are generally in silk threads on a ground of the same material. Such work is largely used for various articles of costume, and for coverlets, screens, banners, chair-covers and table-hangings. The ornaments upon the robes especially are prescribed according to the rank of the wearer. The designs include elaborate landscapes with buildings and figures, dragons, birds, animals, symbolic devices, and especially flowers (Plate III. fig. 11). Dr Bushell states that the stuff to be embroidered is first stretched upon a frame, on pivots, and that pattern-books with woodcuts have been published for the workers’ guidance. A kind of embroidery exported in large quantities from Canton to Europe rivals painting in the variety and gradation of its colours, and in the smoothness and regularity of its surface.
India has produced a huge variety of embroideries, showcasing different levels of quality. The beautiful woollen shawls from Kashmir are famous worldwide, and their creation is believed to date back to ancient times. Many Indian embroideries can appear quite flashy, sometimes enhanced by adding beetle wings, tinsel, or bits of mirror. China is where the silkworm originally comes from, and the textile arts there reached a high level of sophistication long before similar craftsmanship appeared in Europe. The embroideries made in China are typically done with silk threads on the same fabric. This type of work is widely used for various clothing items, as well as for bed covers, screens, banners, chair covers, and tablecloths. The designs on robes are especially dictated by the wearer's status. The motifs include detailed landscapes with buildings and figures, dragons, birds, animals, symbolic elements, and particularly flowers (Plate III. fig. 11). Dr. Bushell notes that the fabric to be embroidered is first stretched on a frame with pivots, and that there are pattern books with woodcuts available to guide the workers. A specific type of embroidery exported in large numbers from Canton to Europe competes with painting in color variety and shading, as well as the smoothness and uniformity of its surface.
Embroidery in Japan resembles in many ways that of China, the country which probably supplied its first models. As a general rule, Japanese work is more pictorial and fanciful than that of China, and the stitching is looser. It frequently happens that the brush has been used to add to the variety of the embroidered work, and in other cases the needle has been an accessory upon a fabric already ornamented with printing or painting. Japanese work is characterized generally by bold and broad treatment, and especial skill is shown in the representation of landscapes—figures, rocks, waterfalls, animals, birds, trees, flowers and clouds being each rendered by a few lines. More elaborate are the large temple hangings, the pattern being frequently thrown into relief, and completely covering the ground material.
Embroidery in Japan is similar in many ways to that of China, the country that likely provided its first models. Generally, Japanese embroidery is more artistic and imaginative than Chinese, with looser stitching. It's common for brushes to be used to enhance the variety of the embroidered pieces, and sometimes the needlework complements fabric that has already been printed or painted. Japanese embroidery is usually marked by bold and broad designs, showing particular skill in depicting landscapes—elements like figures, rocks, waterfalls, animals, birds, trees, flowers, and clouds are represented with just a few lines. More intricate are the large temple hangings, where the patterns often stand out, completely covering the base fabric.
Embroidery in Persia has been used to a great extent for the decoration of carpets, for prayer or for use at the bath (Plate V. fig. 17). Robes, hangings, curtains, tablecovers and portières are also embroidered. A preference is shown for floral patterns, but the Mahommedans of Persia had no scruples about introducing the forms of men and animals—the former engaged in hawking or hunting, or feasting in gardens. Panels embroidered with close diagonal bands of flowers were made into loose trousers for women, now obsolete. The embroidered shawls of Kerman are widely celebrated. Hangings and covers of cloth patchwork have been embroidered in many parts of Persia, more particularly at Resht and Ispahan.
Embroidery in Persia has been widely used to decorate carpets, for prayer, or for use in baths (Plate V. fig. 17). Robes, wall hangings, curtains, tablecloths, and drapes are also embroidered. There's a strong preference for floral patterns, but the Muslims of Persia had no hesitation in including images of people and animals—depicting scenes like hunting, hawking, or feasting in gardens. Panels embroidered with tightly arranged diagonal bands of flowers were made into loose trousers for women, which are now outdated. The embroidered shawls from Kerman are highly regarded. Patchwork hangings and covers have been embroidered in many regions of Persia, especially in Resht and Isfahan.
In Turkestan, and especially at Bokhara, excellent embroideries have been, and are, produced, some patterns being of a bold floral type, and others conventionalized into hooked and serrated outlines. The work is most usually in bright-coloured silks, red predominating, on a linen material.
In Turkestan, particularly in Bukhara, high-quality embroideries have been and continue to be made, with some patterns featuring bold floral designs, while others have been stylized into hooked and serrated shapes. The pieces are typically made with brightly colored silks, with red being the most prominent, on a linen fabric.
In North Africa the embroidery of Morocco and Algeria deserves notice; the former inclines more to geometrical forms and the latter to patterns of a floral character.
In North Africa, the embroidery of Morocco and Algeria is worth mentioning; the former tends to use more geometric designs, while the latter features floral patterns.
Plate V.
Plate 5.
![]() |
Fig. 17.—LINEN PRAYER CARPET, QUILTED AND EMBROIDERED IN CHAIN STITCH WITH COLOURED SILKS, CHIEFLY WHITE, YELLOW, GREEN AND RED. |
The border consists of a wide band set between two narrow ones, each with a waved continuous stem with blossoms in the wavings. Similar floral scrolling and leafy stem ornament fills the space beyond the pointed shape at the upper end, which is edged with acanthus leaf devices. The main ground below the niche or pointed shape is a blossoming plant, with balanced bunches of flowers between which are leaves, formally arranged in a pointed oval shape. Persian work, 18th century, 4 ft. 6 in. × 2 ft. 11 in. (Victoria and Albert Museum.) |
Plate VI.
Plate 6.
![]() |
Fig. 18.—PART OF A SICILIAN COVERLET, OF THE END OF THE 14TH CENTURY. |
It is of white linen, quilted and padded in wool so as to throw the design into relief. The scenes represented, taken from the Story of Tristan, with inscriptions in the Sicilian dialect, are as follows:—(1) Comu: The Love of the Bandiri: The Inn: In Cornuualgia (How the Morold made the host to go to Cornwall); (2) Comu: The King: Language: Command: Who is there: The Host. Cornwall (How King Languis ordered that the host should go to Cornwall); (3) Comu: The King: Language: Message: Through The Work in Cornwall (How King Languis sent to Cornwall for the tribute); (4) Comu: (he m) Suggestions: are Uinnti: Al Rre: Marcu: For The Tribute Of Seven Years (How the ambassadors are come to King Mark for the tribute of seven years); (5) Comu: The Loveable Uai: in Cornwall (How the Morold comes to Cornwall); (6) Comu: The Lover: Fa Suldari: The People (How the Morold made the people pay); (7) Comu: T(ristainu): Dai: The Big Glove of the Great Battle (How Tristan gives the glove of battle to the Morold); (8) Comu: The Amoroldu: E Uinutu: in Cornuualgia: With XXXX Galei: (How the Morold is come to Cornwall with forty galleys); (9) Comu Tristainu Bucta: The Area: Route: Into: All to Sea (How Tristan struck his boat behind him into the sea); (10) Comu: Tristainu: Overview: The Love Story: On the Island of the Sea: Sansa Uintura (How Tristan awaits the Morold on the isle Sanza Ventura in the sea); (11) Comu: Tristainu Feriu Lu Amorolldu in Testa (How Tristan wounded the Morold in the head); (12) Comu: The Inn (?) Delu Amoroldu: The Aspects of the Patron (How the Morold’s page (?) awaited his master); (13) Comu Lu Amorodu Feriu: Tristainu A Tradimantu (How the Morold wounded Tristan by treachery); (14) ... Sita: In Airland ( ... in Ireland). |
Bibliography.—Lady Alford, Needlework as Art (London, 1886); Mrs M. Barber, Some Drawings of Ancient Embroidery (ib., 1880); P. Blanchet, Tissus antiques et du haut moyen-âge (Paris, 1897); F. Bock, Die Kleinodien des Heiligen Römischen Reiches Deutscher Nation (Vienna, 1864); M. Charles, Les Broderies et les dentelles (Paris, 1905); Mrs Christie, Embroidery and Tapestry Weaving (London, 1906); A.S. Cole, C.B., “Some Aspects of Ancient and Modern Embroidery” (Soc. of Arts Journal, liii., 1905, pp. 956-973); R. Cox, L’Art de décorer les tissus (Paris, Lyons, 1900); L.F. Day, Art in Needlework (London, 1900); A. Dolby, Church Embroidery 314 (ib., 1867), and Church Vestments (ib., 1868); M. Dreger, Künstlerische Entwicklung der Weberei und Stickerei (Vienna, 1904); Madame I. Errera, Collection de broderies anciennes (Brussels, 1905); L. de Farcy, La Broderie (Paris, 1890); R. Forrer, Die Gräber und Textilfunde von Achmim-Panopolis (Strassburg, 1891); F.R. Fowke, The Bayeux Tapestry (London, 1898); Rev. C.H. Hartshorne, On English Medieval Embroidery (ib., 1848); M.B. Huish, Samplers and Tapestry Embroideries (ib., 1900); A.F. Kendrick, English Embroidery (ib., 1905); English Embroidery executed prior to the Middle of the 16th Century (Burlington Fine Arts Club Exhibition, 1905, introduction by A.F. Kendrick); E. Lefebure, Embroideries and Lace, translated by A.S. Cole, C.B. (London, 1888); F. Marshall, Old English Embroidery (ib., 1894); E.M. Rogge, Moderne Kunst-Nadelarbeiten (Amsterdam, 1905); South Kensington Museum, Catalogue of Special Loan Exhibition of Decorative Art Needlework (1874); W.G.P. Townshend, Embroidery (London, 1899). For further examples of ecclesiastical embroidery see the articles Chasuble, Cope, Dalmatic and Mitre.
References.—Lady Alford, Needlework as Art (London, 1886); Mrs M. Barber, Some Drawings of Ancient Embroidery (ib., 1880); P. Blanchet, Tissus antiques et du haut moyen-âge (Paris, 1897); F. Bock, Die Kleinodien des Heiligen Römischen Reiches Deutscher Nation (Vienna, 1864); M. Charles, Les Broderies et les dentelles (Paris, 1905); Mrs Christie, Embroidery and Tapestry Weaving (London, 1906); A.S. Cole, C.B., “Some Aspects of Ancient and Modern Embroidery” (Soc. of Arts Journal, liii., 1905, pp. 956-973); R. Cox, L’Art de décorer les tissus (Paris, Lyons, 1900); L.F. Day, Art in Needlework (London, 1900); A. Dolby, Church Embroidery 314 (ib., 1867), and Church Vestments (ib., 1868); M. Dreger, Künstlerische Entwicklung der Weberei und Stickerei (Vienna, 1904); Madame I. Errera, Collection de broderies anciennes (Brussels, 1905); L. de Farcy, La Broderie (Paris, 1890); R. Forrer, Die Gräber und Textilfunde von Achmim-Panopolis (Strassburg, 1891); F.R. Fowke, The Bayeux Tapestry (London, 1898); Rev. C.H. Hartshorne, On English Medieval Embroidery (ib., 1848); M.B. Huish, Samplers and Tapestry Embroideries (ib., 1900); A.F. Kendrick, English Embroidery (ib., 1905); English Embroidery executed prior to the Middle of the 16th Century (Burlington Fine Arts Club Exhibition, 1905, introduction by A.F. Kendrick); E. Lefebure, Embroideries and Lace, translated by A.S. Cole, C.B. (London, 1888); F. Marshall, Old English Embroidery (ib., 1894); E.M. Rogge, Moderne Kunst-Nadelarbeiten (Amsterdam, 1905); South Kensington Museum, Catalogue of Special Loan Exhibition of Decorative Art Needlework (1874); W.G.P. Townshend, Embroidery (London, 1899). For further examples of ecclesiastical embroidery see the articles Chasuble, Cope, Dalmatic and Mitre.
1 See H. Carter and P.E. Newberry, Cat. gén. des ant. égypt. du musée du Caire (1904), pl. i. and xxviii. A remarkable piece of Egyptian needlework, the funeral tent of Queen Isi em Kheb (XXIst Dynasty), was discovered at Deir el Bahri some years ago. It is described as a mosaic of leatherwork—pieces of gazelle hide of several colours, stitched together (see Villiers Stuart, The Funeral Tent of an Egyptian Queen, 1882).
1 See H. Carter and P.E. Newberry, Cat. gén. des ant. égypt. du musée du Caire (1904), pl. i. and xxviii. A remarkable piece of Egyptian needlework, the funeral tent of Queen Isi em Kheb (21st Dynasty), was found at Deir el Bahri several years ago. It is described as a mosaic of leatherwork—pieces of gazelle hide in various colors, stitched together (see Villiers Stuart, The Funeral Tent of an Egyptian Queen, 1882).
2 The procession at this festival is represented upon the frieze of the Parthenon.
2 The parade at this festival is shown on the frieze of the Parthenon.
3 See Compte rendu de la Comm. Imp. Arch., 1878-1879 (St Petersburg), pl. iii. and v.
3 See Compte rendu de la Comm. Imp. Arch., 1878-1879 (St Petersburg), pl. iii. and v.
4 For an account of the conditions under which Greek and Roman embroiderers worked, see Alan S. Cole, “Some Aspects of Ancient and Modern Embroidery,” Journal of the Society of Arts, vol. liii., 1905, pp. 958, 959.
4 For details on the conditions Greek and Roman embroiderers faced, check out Alan S. Cole's article, “Some Aspects of Ancient and Modern Embroidery,” Journal of the Society of Arts, vol. liii., 1905, pp. 958, 959.
5 Chiefly tunics with vertical bands (clavi) and medallions (orbiculae), and an ample outer robe or cloak.
5 Mainly tunics with vertical stripes (clavi) and circular designs (orbiculae), and a large outer robe or cloak.
6 The Adoration of the Magi is represented upon the lower border of the long robe worn by the empress Theodora (wife of Justinian) in the mosaic in the church of S. Vitale at Ravenna.
6 The Adoration of the Magi is depicted along the lower edge of the long robe worn by Empress Theodora (wife of Justinian) in the mosaic at the Church of S. Vitale in Ravenna.
7 Writers have assigned different dates to this vestment: Lady Alford, Needlework as Art (earlier than the 13th century); F. Bock, Die Kleinodien (12th century); S. Boisserée, Über die Kaiser-Dalmatica in der St Peterskirche zu Rom (12th or first half of 13th century); A.S. Cole, Cantor Lectures at Society of Arts, 1905 (possibly of 9th century); Lord Lindsay, Christian Art (12th or early 13th century); A. Venturi, Storia dell’ arte (10th or 11th century); T. Braun, Liturg. Gewandung, p. 305 and note (late 14th or early 15th century).
7 Writers have given different dates for this garment: Lady Alford, Needlework as Art (earlier than the 13th century); F. Bock, Die Kleinodien (12th century); S. Boisserée, Über die Kaiser-Dalmatica in der St Peterskirche zu Rom (12th or first half of the 13th century); A.S. Cole, Cantor Lectures at Society of Arts, 1905 (possibly from the 9th century); Lord Lindsay, Christian Art (12th or early 13th century); A. Venturi, Storia dell’ arte (10th or 11th century); T. Braun, Liturg. Gewandung, p. 305 and note (late 14th or early 15th century).
9 Some embroideries from vestments, designed by Pollaiuolo, are still preserved in the Museo dell’ Opera del Duomo, Florence.
9 Some embroidered pieces from garments designed by Pollaiuolo are still kept in the Museo dell’ Opera del Duomo in Florence.
10 Others, sometimes with the same illustrations, appeared in France and Germany, and no doubt forwarded the general tendency towards Italian models at the time. A few pattern-books were also published in England.
10 Others, sometimes with the same illustrations, appeared in France and Germany, and undoubtedly contributed to the overall trend toward Italian styles at the time. A few pattern books were also released in England.
EMBRUN, a town in the department of the Hautes Alpes in S.E. France. It is built at a height of 2854 ft. on a plateau that rises above the right bank of the Durance. It is 27½ m. by rail from Briançon and 24 m. from Gap. Its ramparts were demolished in 1884. In 1906 the communal pop. (including the garrison) was 3752. Besides the Tour Brune (11th century) and the old archiepiscopal palace, now occupied by government offices, barracks, &c., the chief object of interest in Embrun is its splendid cathedral church, which dates from the second half of the 12th century. Above its side door, called the Réal, there existed till 1585 (when it was destroyed by the Huguenots) a fresco, probably painted in the 13th century, representing the Madonna: this was the object of a celebrated pilgrimage for many centuries. Louis XI. habitually wore on his hat a leaden image of this Madonna, for which he had a very great veneration, since between 1440 and 1461, during the lifetime of his father, he had been the dauphin, and as such ruler of this province.
EMBRUN is a town in the Hautes Alpes department in southeastern France. It sits at an elevation of 2,854 feet on a plateau that rises above the right bank of the Durance River. It’s 27.5 miles by rail from Briançon and 24 miles from Gap. Its ramparts were torn down in 1884. In 1906, the town’s population (including the military garrison) was 3,752. Besides the Tour Brune (from the 11th century) and the old archiepiscopal palace, which is now used for government offices and barracks, the main point of interest in Embrun is its beautiful cathedral, built in the second half of the 12th century. Above its side door, known as the Réal, there used to be a fresco, likely painted in the 13th century, depicting the Madonna; this was a significant pilgrimage site until it was destroyed by the Huguenots in 1585. Louis XI often wore a leaden image of this Madonna on his hat, as he held her in high regard. Between 1440 and 1461, during his father's life, he served as the dauphin and ruler of this province.
Embrun was the Eburodunum or Ebredunum of the Romans, and the chief town of the province of the Maritime Alps. The episcopal see was founded in the 4th century, and became an archbishopric about 800. In 1147 the archbishops obtained from the emperor Conrad III. very extensive temporal rights, and the rank of princes of the Holy Roman Empire. In 1232 the county of the Embrunais passed by marriage to the dauphins of Viennois. In 1791 the archiepiscopal see was suppressed, the region being then transferred to the diocese of Gap, so that the once metropolitan cathedral church is now simply a parish church. The town was sacked in 1585 by the Huguenots and in 1692 by the duke of Savoy. Henri Arnaud (1641-1721), the Waldensian pastor and general, was born at Embrun.
Embrun was the Eburodunum or Ebredunum of the Romans and the main town of the Maritime Alps province. The episcopal see was established in the 4th century and became an archbishopric around 800. In 1147, the archbishops received significant temporal rights from Emperor Conrad III and were recognized as princes of the Holy Roman Empire. In 1232, the county of Embrunais passed to the Dauphins of Viennois through marriage. In 1791, the archiepiscopal see was abolished, and the area was transferred to the diocese of Gap, which meant that the former metropolitan cathedral is now just a parish church. The town was looted by the Huguenots in 1585 and again by the Duke of Savoy in 1692. Henri Arnaud (1641-1721), the Waldensian pastor and general, was born in Embrun.
See A. Albert, Histoire du diocèse d’Embrun (2 vols., Embrun, 1783); M. Fornier, Histoire générale des Alpes Maritimes ou Cottiennes et particulière de leur métropolitaine Embrun (written 1626-1643), published by the Abbé Paul Guillaume (3 vols., Paris and Gap, 1890-1891); A. Fabre, Recherches historiques sur le pèlerinage des rois de France à N.D. d’Embrun (Grenoble, 1859); A. Sauret, Essai historique sur la ville d’Embrun (Gap, 1860).
See A. Albert, History of the Diocese of Embrun (2 vols., Embrun, 1783); M. Fornier, General History of the Maritime and Cottian Alps and the Specific History of Their Metropolitan, Embrun (written 1626-1643), published by Abbé Paul Guillaume (3 vols., Paris and Gap, 1890-1891); A. Fabre, Historical Research on the Pilgrimage of the Kings of France to N.D. d’Embrun (Grenoble, 1859); A. Sauret, Historical Essay on the City of Embrun (Gap, 1860).
EMBRYOLOGY. The word embryo is derived from the Gr. ἔμβρυον, which signified the fruit of the womb before birth. In its strict sense, therefore, embryology is the study of the intrauterine young or embryo, and can only be pursued in those animals in which the offspring are retained in the uterus of the mother until they have acquired, or nearly acquired, the form of the parent. As a matter of fact, however, the word has a much wider application than would be gathered from its derivation. All animals above the Protozoa undergo at the beginning of their existence rapid growth and considerable changes of form and structure. During these changes, which constitute the development of the animal, the young organism may be incapable of leading a free life and obtaining its own food. In such cases it is either contained in the body of the parent or it is protruded and lies quiescent within the egg membranes; or it may be capable of leading an independent life, possessing in a functional condition all the organs necessary for the maintenance of its existence. In the former case the young organism is called an embryo,1 in the latter a larva. It might thus be concluded that embryology would exclude the study of larvae, in which the whole or the greater part of the development takes place outside the parent and outside the egg. But this is not the case; embryology includes not only a study of embryos as just defined, but also a study of larvae. In this way the scope of the subject is still further widened. As long as embryology confines its attention to embryos, it is easy to fix its limits, at any rate in the higher animals. The domain of embryology ceases in the case of viviparous animals at birth, in the case of oviparous animals at hatching; it ceases as soon as the young form acquires the power of existing when separated from the parent, or when removed from the protection of the egg membranes. But as soon as post-embryonic developmental changes are admitted within the scope of the subject, it becomes on close consideration difficult to limit its range. It must include all the developmental processes which take place as a result of sexual reproduction. A man at birth, when he ceases to be an embryo, has still many changes besides those of simple growth to pass through. The same remark applies to a young frog at the metamorphosis. A chick even, which can run about and feed almost immediately after hatching, possesses a plumage very different from that of the full-grown bird; a starfish at the metamorphosis is in many of its features quite different from the form with which we are familiar. It might be attempted to meet this difficulty by limiting embryology to a study of all those changes which occur in the organism before the attainment of the adult state. But this merely shifts the difficulty to another quarter, and makes it necessary to define what is meant by the adult state. At first sight this may seem easy, and no doubt it is not difficult when man and the higher animals alone are in question, for in these the adult state may be defined comparatively sharply as the stage of sexual maturity. After that period, though changes in the organism still continue, they are retrogressive changes, and as such might fairly be excluded from any account of development, which clearly implies progression, not retrogression. But, as so often happens in the study of organisms, formulae which apply quite satisfactorily to one group require modifications when others are considered. Does sexual maturity always mark the attainment of the adult state? Is the Axolotl adult when it acquires its reproductive organs? Can a larval Ctenophore, which acquires functional reproductive glands and still possesses the power of passing into the form ordinarily described as adult in that group, be considered to have reached the end of its development? Or—to take the case of those animals, such as Amphioxus, Balanoglossus, and many segmented worms in which important developmental processes occur, e.g. formation of new gill slits, of gonadial sacs, or even of whole segments of the body, long after the power of reproduction has been acquired—how is the attainment of the adult state to be defined, for it is clear that in them the attainment of sexual maturity does not correspond with the end of growth and development? If, then, embryology is to be regarded as including not only the study of embryos, but also that of larvae, i.e. if it includes the study of the whole developmental history of the individual—and it is impossible to treat the subject rationally unless it is so regarded—it becomes exceeding difficult to fix any definite limit to the period of life with which embryology concerns itself. The beginning of this period can be fixed, but not the end, unless it be the end of life itself, i.e. death. The science of embryology, then, is the science of individual development, and includes within its purview all those changes of form and structure, whether embryonic, larval or post-larval, which characterize the life of the individual. The beginning of this period is precise and definite—it is the completion of the fertilization of the ovum, in which the life of the individual has its start. The end, on the other hand, is vague and cannot be precisely defined, unless it be death, in which case the period of life with which embryology concerns itself is coincident with the life of the individual. To use the words of Huxley (“Cell Theory,” Collected Works, vol. i. p. 267): “Development, therefore, and life are, strictly speaking, one thing, though we are accustomed to limit the former to the progressive half of life merely, and to 315 speak of the retrogressive half as decay, considering an imaginary resting-point between the two as the adult or perfect state.”
EMBRYOLOGY. The term embryo comes from the Greek fetus, which referred to the unborn baby's development before birth. Embryology, in its strict sense, is the study of the developing young or embryo inside the womb and can only be conducted in those animals where the offspring are carried in the mother's uterus until they resemble the parent. In reality, though, the term has a much broader scope than its origin suggests. All animals above the level of Protozoa experience rapid growth and significant changes in form and structure at the start of their lives. During these changes, which define the development of the animal, the young organism may not be able to live independently or feed itself. In such cases, it is either inside the parent’s body or lies dormant within the egg membranes; alternatively, it may be capable of independent life, possessing all the necessary organs for survival. In the first scenario, the young organism is called an embryo; in the second, it is referred to as a larva. One might think that embryology would only focus on embryos, which develop primarily inside the parent or the egg. However, this is not true; embryology encompasses both embryo and larva studies. This expands the field even further. If embryology limits itself to embryos, then it's easy to establish boundaries, especially in higher animals. The boundary of embryology ends for viviparous animals at birth and for oviparous animals at hatching; it concludes as soon as the young can exist away from the parent or the protection of the egg membranes. However, once post-embryonic developmental changes are considered, it becomes complicated to define its limits. It must encompass all developmental processes resulting from sexual reproduction. A human at birth, no longer an embryo, still undergoes many changes beyond just growth. The same is true for a young frog at metamorphosis. A chick, which can move and eat almost immediately after hatching, has feathers quite different from those of an adult bird. A starfish at metamorphosis looks quite different from the form we're used to. One might try to limit embryology to studying all changes happening before reaching adulthood. But this only shifts the issue, as defining what is meant by adulthood becomes necessary. At first glance, this might seem straightforward, especially for humans and higher animals, where adulthood is often defined clearly as the stage of sexual maturity. After this stage, while changes continue, they are often regressions and could be justifiably excluded from a developmental perspective, which implies progress rather than regression. However, as is often the case in biology, definitions that work well for one group need to be adjusted when applied to others. Does sexual maturity always signify reaching adulthood? Is the Axolotl considered adult once it develops reproductive organs? Can a larval Ctenophore, which develops functional reproductive glands while still being capable of transforming into the adult form typical of that group, be seen as having completed its development? Furthermore, in animals like Amphioxus, Balanoglossus, and many segmented worms where essential developmental processes occur, such as the formation of new gill slits or gonadial sacs long after the ability to reproduce is achieved, how do we define adulthood, given that for these creatures sexual maturity does not coincide with the end of growth and development? Therefore, if embryology is understood to encompass both the study of embryos and larvae, meaning it looks at the complete developmental history of an individual—and it’s essential to approach the subject this way—it's quite challenging to set a clear boundary on the lifespan that embryology addresses. We can determine the beginning of this period but not its conclusion, except to say it aligns with the end of life itself, that is, death. Accordingly, the science of embryology deals with individual development and includes all the changes in form and structure—be they embryonic, larval, or post-larval—that define an individual's life. The start of this phase is definite; it is the moment fertilization of the ovum is complete, marking the beginning of the individual’s life. However, the end is ambiguous and cannot be precisely specified, unless it is death, making the lifespan that embryology relates to coincide with the individual’s life. In the words of Huxley (“Cell Theory,” Collected Works, vol. i. p. 267): “Development, therefore, and life are, strictly speaking, one thing, though we are used to confining development to the progressive part of life and referring to the retrogressive part as decay, viewing an imaginary resting point between both as the adult or perfect state.”
There are two kinds of reproduction, the sexual and the asexual. The sexual method has for its results an increase of the number of kinds of individual or organism, whereas the asexual affords an increase in the number of Reproduction. individuals of the same kind. If the asexual method of reproduction alone existed, there would, so far as our knowledge at present extends, be no increase in the number of kinds of organism: no new individuality could arise. The first establishment of a new kind of individual by the sexual process is effected in a very similar manner in all Metazoa. The parent produces by a process of unequal fission, which takes place at a part of the body called the reproductive gland, a small living organism called the reproductive cell. There are always two kinds of reproductive cells, and these are generally produced by different animals called the male and female respectively (when they are produced by the same animal it is said to be hermaphrodite). The reproductive cell produced by the male is called the spermatozoon, and that produced by the female, the ovum. These two organisms agree in being small uninucleated masses of protoplasm, but differ considerably in form. They are without the organs of nutrition, &c., which characterize their parents, but the ovum nearly always possesses, stored up within its protoplasm, a greater or less quantity of vitelline matter or food-yolk, while the spermatozoon possesses in almost all cases the power of locomotion. The object with which these two minute and simple organisms are produced is to fuse with one another and give rise to one resultant uninucleated (for the nuclei fuse) organism or cell, which is called the zygote. This process of fusion between the two kinds of reproductive cells, which are termed gametes, is called conjugation: it is the process which is sometimes spoken of as the fertilization of the ovum, and its result is the establishment of a new individual. This new individual at first is simply a uninucleated mass of living matter, which always contains a certain amount of food-yolk, and is generally bounded by a delicate cuticular membrane called the vitelline membrane. In form the newly established zygote resembles the female gamete or ovum—so much so, indeed, that it is frequently called the ovum; but it must be clearly understood that although the bulk of its matter has been derived from the ovum, it consists of ovum and spermatozoon, and, as shown by its subsequent behaviour, the spermatozoon has quite as much to do with determining its vital properties as the ovum.
There are two types of reproduction: sexual and asexual. Sexual reproduction results in an increase in the diversity of individual organisms, while asexual reproduction increases the number of individuals of the same kind. If only asexual reproduction existed, there would be no increase in the number of organism types; no new individual forms could emerge. The initial formation of a new type of individual through sexual reproduction occurs in a similar way across all Metazoans. The parent generates a small living organism known as the reproductive cell through a process called unequal fission, occurring in a body part known as the reproductive gland. There are always two types of reproductive cells, typically produced by different animals referred to as male and female (if produced by the same animal, it's called hermaphroditic). The reproductive cell from the male is called the spermatozoon, and the one from the female is called the ovum. These two cells are small, uninucleated masses of protoplasm but differ significantly in shape. They lack the organs for nutrition and other functions that their parents have, but the ovum usually contains a certain amount of vitelline matter or food-yolk within its protoplasm, while the spermatozoon generally has the ability to move. The purpose of producing these two tiny and simple organisms is for them to merge and create a single uninucleated organism or cell called the zygote (as the nuclei combine). This merging process between the two types of reproductive cells, known as gametes, is called conjugation. It's often referred to as the fertilization of the ovum, which results in the establishment of a new individual. This new individual initially is simply a mass of living matter without a nucleus, containing a certain amount of food-yolk, and is typically surrounded by a thin cuticular membrane called the vitelline membrane. In shape, the newly formed zygote resembles the female gamete or ovum—so much so that it's often called the ovum; however, it should be noted that although most of its substance comes from the ovum, it consists of both the ovum and the spermatozoon, and as evident from its subsequent behavior, the spermatozoon plays a crucial role in determining its vital properties just as much as the ovum does.
To the unaided eye the main difference between the newly formed zygotes of different species of animals is that of bulk, and this is due to the amount of food-yolk held in suspension in the protoplasm. The ovum of the fowl is 30 mm. in diameter, that of the frog 1·75 mm., while the ova of the rabbit and Amphioxus have a diameter of ·l mm. The food-yolk is deposited in the ovum as a result of the vital activity of its protoplasm, while the ovum is still a part of the ovary of the parent. It is an inert substance which is used as food later on by the developing embryo, and it acts as a dilutant of the living matter of the ovum. It has a profound influence on the subsequent developmental process. The newly formed zygotes of different species of animals have undoubtedly, as staved above, a certain family resemblance to one another; but however great this superficial resemblance may be, the differences must be most profound, and this fact becomes at once obvious when the properties of these remarkable masses of matter are closely investigated.
To the naked eye, the main difference between the newly formed zygotes of different animal species is their size, which is due to the amount of food yolk suspended in the protoplasm. The hen's egg measures 30 mm in diameter, the frog's egg measures 1.75 mm, while the eggs of the rabbit and Amphioxus are 0.1 mm in diameter. The food yolk is deposited in the egg as a result of the vital activity of its protoplasm while it's still part of the parent's ovary. It is an inert substance that serves as food for the developing embryo later on, and it helps dilute the living matter of the egg. It has a significant impact on the later stages of development. The newly formed zygotes of various animal species do have a certain familial resemblance to each other, as mentioned earlier; however, no matter how strong this superficial resemblance might seem, the differences are likely much more profound, and this becomes clear when we closely examine the properties of these remarkable masses of matter.
As in the case of so many other forms of matter, the more important properties of the zygote do not become apparent until it is submitted to the action of external forces. These forces constitute the external conditions of Causes of development. existence, and the properties which are called forth by their action are called the acquired characters of the organism. The investigation of these properties, particularly of those which are called forth in the early stages of the process, constitutes the science of Embryology. With regard to the manifestation of these properties, certain points must be clearly understood at the outset:—(1) If the zygote is withheld from the appropriate external influences, e.g. if a plant-seed be kept in a box free from moisture or at a low temperature, no properties are evolved, and the zygote remains apparently unchanged; (2) the acquisition of the properties which constitutes the growth and development of the organism proceeds in a perfectly definite sequence, which, so far as is known, cannot be altered; (3) just as the features of the growing organism change under the continued action of the external conditions, so the external conditions themselves must change as the organism is progressively evolved. With regard to this last change, it may be said generally that it is usually, if not always, effected by the organism itself, making use of the properties which it has acquired at earlier stages of its growth, and acting in response to the external conditions. There is, to use a phrase of Mr Herbert Spencer, a continuous adjustment between the external and internal relations. For every organism a certain succession of conditions is necessary if the complete and normal evolution of properties is to take place. Within certain limits, these conditions may vary without interfering with the normal evolution of the properties, though such variations are generally responded to by slight but unimportant variation of the properties (variation of acquired characters). But if the variation of the conditions is too great, the evolved properties become abnormal, and are of such a nature as to preclude the normal evolution of the organism; in other words, the action of the conditions upon the organism is injurious, causing abortions and, ultimately, death. For many organisms the conditions of existence are well known for all stages of life, and can be easily imitated, so that they can be reared artificially and kept alive and made to breed in confinement—e.g. the common fowl. But in a large number of cases it is not possible, through ignorance of the proper conditions, or on account of the difficulty of imitating them, to make the organism evolve all its properties. For instance, there are many marine larvae which have never been reared beyond a certain point, and there are some organisms which, even when nearly full-grown—a stage of life at which it is generally most easy to ascertain and imitate the natural conditions—will not live, or at any rate will not breed, in captivity. Of late years some naturalists have largely occupied themselves with experimental observation of the effects on certain organisms of marked and definite changes of the conditions, and the name of Developmental Mechanics (or Physiology of Development) has been applied to this branch of study (see below).
As with many other types of matter, the key properties of the zygote only become clear when it is exposed to external forces. These forces make up the external conditions of existence, and the properties that emerge from their influence are known as the acquired characteristics of the organism. The study of these properties, especially those that arise in the early stages of development, is called Embryology. Regarding the expression of these properties, a few key points should be understood from the start: (1) If the zygote is kept from the right external influences, like when a plant seed is stored in a dry box or at a low temperature, no properties develop, and the zygote appears unchanged; (2) the acquisition of properties that drives an organism's growth and development follows a specific sequence that, as far as we know, cannot be altered; (3) just as the characteristics of the growing organism change due to ongoing external conditions, those external conditions must also change as the organism develops. Generally speaking, this last change is often, if not always, initiated by the organism itself, utilizing the properties it has gained during earlier growth stages and responding to the external conditions. There is, to quote Mr. Herbert Spencer, a continuous adjustment between external and internal relationships. Each organism requires a particular order of conditions for its properties to develop completely and normally. Within certain limits, these conditions can vary without disrupting the normal development of properties, although such variations typically lead to slight but insignificant changes in the properties (changes in acquired characteristics). However, if the changes in conditions are too drastic, the developed properties may become abnormal, preventing the organism from evolving normally; in other words, the impact of the conditions on the organism can be harmful, leading to failures in development and, ultimately, death. For many organisms, the conditions needed for every life stage are well understood and can be easily replicated, allowing for artificial rearing, survival, and breeding in captivity—for example, the common chicken. Yet, in many cases, it is not possible, due to a lack of knowledge about the right conditions or the challenge of replicating them, to help the organism develop all its properties. For instance, numerous marine larvae have never been raised beyond a certain stage, and some organisms, even when nearly fully grown—a life stage when it’s generally easiest to identify and replicate their natural conditions—will not survive, or at least will not breed, in captivity. In recent years, some naturalists have focused on experimentally observing how marked and specific changes in conditions affect certain organisms, leading to this field being referred to as Developmental Mechanics (or Physiology of Development) (see below).
In normal fertilization, as a rule, only one spermatozoon fuses with the ovum. It has been observed in some eggs that a membrane, formed round the ovum immediately after the entrance of the spermatozoon, prevents the entrance of others. If Gametogeny. than one spermatozoon enters, a corresponding number of male pronuclei are formed, and the subsequent development, if it takes place at all, is abnormal and soon ceases. An egg by ill-treatment (influence of chloroform, carbonic acid, &c.) can be made to take more than one spermatozoon. In some animals it appears that several spermatozoa may normally enter the ovum (some Arthropoda, Selachians, Amphibians and Mammals), but of these only one forms a male pronucleus (see below), the rest being absorbed. Gametogeny is the name applied to the formation of the gametes, i.e. of the ova and spermatozoa. The cells of the reproductive glands are the germ cells (oögonia, spermatogonia). They undergo division and give rise to the progametes, which in the case of the female are sometimes called oöcytes, in the case of the male spermatocytes. The oöcytes are more familiarly called the ovarian ova. The nucleus of the oöcyte is called the germinal vesicle. The oöcyte (progamete) gives rise by division to the ovum or true gamete, the nucleus of which is called the female pronucleus. As a general rule the oöcyte divides unequally twice, giving rise to two small cells called polar bodies, and to the ovum. The first formed polar body frequently divides when the oöcyte undergoes its second and final division, so that there are three polar bodies as well as the ovum resulting from the division of the oöcyte or progamete. Sometimes the ovum arises from the oöcyte by one division only, and there is only one polar body (e.g. mouse, Sobotta, Arch. f. mikr. Anat., 1895, p. 15). The polar bodies are oval, but as a rule they are so small as to be incapable of fertilization. They may therefore be regarded as abortive ova. In one case, however (see Francotte, Bull. Acad. Belg. (3), xxxiii., 1897, p. 278), the first formed polar body is nearly as large as the ovum, and is sometimes fertilized and develops. The spermatogonia are the cells of the testis; these produce by division the spermatocytes (progametes), which divide and give rise to the spermatids. In most cases which have been investigated the divisions by which the spermatids arise from the spermatocytes are two in number, so 316 that each spermatocyte gives origin to four spermatids. Each spermatid becomes a functional spermatozoon or male gamete. The gametogeny of the male therefore closely resembles that of the female, differing from it only in the fact that all the four products of the progamete become functional gametes, whereas in the female only one, the ovum, becomes functional, the other three (polar bodies) being abortive. In the spermatogenesis of the bee, however, the spermatocyte only divides once, giving rise to a small polar-body-like structure and one spermatid (Meves, Anat. Anzeiger, 24, 1904, pp. 29-32). The nucleus of the male gamete is not called the male pronucleus, as would be expected, that term being reserved for the second nucleus which appears in the ovum after fertilization. As this is in all probability derived entirely from the nucleus of the spermatozoon, we should be almost justified in calling the nucleus of the spermatozoon the male pronucleus. In most forms in which the formation of the gametes from the progamete has been accurately followed, and in which the progamete of both sexes divides twice in forming the gametes, the division of the nucleus presents certain peculiarities. In the first place, between the first division and the second it does not enter into the resting state, but immediately proceeds to the second division. In the second place, the number of chromosomes which appear in the final divisions of the progametes and assist in constituting the nuclei of the gametes is half the number which go to constitute the new nuclei in the ordinary nuclear divisions of the animal. The number of chromosomes of the nucleus of the gamete is therefore reduced, and the divisions by which the gametes arise from the progametes are called reducing (maiotic) divisions. It is not certain, however, that this phenomenon is of universal occurrence, or has the significance which is ordinarily attributed to it. In the parthenogenetic ova of certain insects, e.g. Rhodites rosae (Henking), Nematus lacteus (Doncaster, Quart. Journal Mic. Science, 49, 1906, pp. 561-589), reduction does not occur, though two polar bodies are formed.
In normal fertilization, usually, only one sperm cell joins the egg. It has been noted that some eggs develop a membrane around them right after a sperm cell enters, which blocks other sperm from getting in. If more than one sperm enters, multiple male pronuclei are created, and any development that may occur is abnormal and quickly stops. An egg can be manipulated (through agents like chloroform, carbon dioxide, etc.) to allow more than one sperm to enter. In some animals, it seems that several sperm can naturally enter the egg (in certain Arthropods, sharks, amphibians, and mammals), but normally only one forms a male pronucleus, and the rest are absorbed. The term for the formation of gametes, which includes eggs and sperm, is called gametogeny. The cells in the reproductive organs are the germ cells (oogonia for eggs and spermatogonia for sperm). These cells divide and produce progametes, which are referred to as oocytes in females and spermatocytes in males. Oocytes are commonly known as ovarian eggs. The nucleus of the oocyte is called the germinal vesicle. The oocyte (progamete) divides to produce the egg or true gamete, whose nucleus is known as the female pronucleus. Generally, the oocyte divides unevenly twice, resulting in two small cells called polar bodies, along with the egg. The first polar body often divides during the oocyte's second and final division, leading to three polar bodies alongside the egg from the division of the oocyte or progamete. Sometimes, the egg arises from just one division of the oocyte, resulting in a single polar body (e.g., in mice). The polar bodies are oval but are usually so small that they can't be fertilized; they can be thought of as abortive eggs. In one instance, however (see Francotte, Bull. Acad. Belg. (3), xxxiii., 1897, p. 278), the first polar body is almost as large as the egg and can sometimes be fertilized and develop. Spermatogonia are the cells in the testes; they produce spermatocytes (progametes) through division, which then divide to form spermatids. In most cases examined, the divisions that create spermatids from spermatocytes occur twice, so each spermatocyte produces four spermatids. Each spermatid becomes a functional sperm cell or male gamete. The male gametogeny closely resembles that of the female, differing mainly in that all four products of the progamete become functional gametes in males, while in females only one, the egg, becomes functional, and the other three (polar bodies) are abortive. However, in the spermatogenesis of bees, the spermatocyte only divides once, resulting in a small polar-body-like structure and one spermatid (Meves, Anat. Anzeiger, 24, 1904, pp. 29-32). The nucleus of the male gamete isn't referred to as the male pronucleus, as you might expect; that term is set aside for the second nucleus that appears in the egg after fertilization. Since this second nucleus likely comes entirely from the sperm cell's nucleus, we could almost consider the sperm cell's nucleus the male pronucleus. In most species studied where gametes form from progametes, and where both male and female progametes divide twice to form gametes, the division of the nucleus shows some unique features. First, there is no resting state between the first and second divisions; it directly proceeds to the second division. Second, the number of chromosomes in the final divisions of the progametes, which help shape the nuclei of the gametes, is half the number found in new nuclei during normal cell divisions in the animal. Thus, the number of chromosomes in the gamete nucleus is reduced, and the processes that form gametes from progametes are called reducing (meiotic) divisions. However, it's not certain that this phenomenon occurs universally or has the significance that is usually attributed to it. In the parthenogenetic eggs of certain insects, like Rhodites rosae (Henking) and Nematus lacteus (Doncaster, Quart. Journal Mic. Science, 49, 1906, pp. 561-589), reduction does not take place, even though two polar bodies are formed.
As soon as the spermatozoon has conjugated with the ovum, a second nucleus appears in the ovum. This is undoubtedly derived from the spermatozoon, possibly from its nucleus only, and is called the male pronucleus. It possesses in the Fertilization. adjacent protoplasm a well-marked centrosome. The general rule appears to be that the female pronucleus is without a centrosome, and that no centrosome appears in the female in the divisions by which the gamete arises from the progamete. If this is true, the centrosome of the zygote nucleus must be entirely derived from that of the male pronucleus. This accounts for the fact, which has been often observed, that the female pronucleus is not surrounded by protoplasmic radiations, whereas such radiations are present round the male pronucleus in its approach to the female. In the mouse the subsequent events are as follow:—Both pronuclei assume the resting form, the chromatin being distributed over the nuclear network, and the nuclei come to lie side by side in the centre of the egg. A long loop of chromatin then appears in each nucleus and divides up into twelve pieces, the chromosomes. The centrosome now divides, the membranes of both nuclei disappear, and a spindle is formed. The twenty-four chromosomes arrange themselves at the centre of this spindle and split longitudinally, so that forty-eight chromosomes are formed. Twenty-four of these, twelve male and twelve female, as it is supposed, travel to each pole of the spindle and assist in giving rise to the two nuclei. At the next nuclear division twenty-four chromosomes appear in each nucleus, each of which divides longitudinally; and so in all subsequent divisions. The fusion of the two pronuclei is sometimes effected in a manner slightly different from that described for the mouse. In Echinus, for instance, the two pronuclei fuse, and the spindle and chromosomes are formed from the zygote nucleus, whereas in the mouse the two pronuclei retain their distinctness during the formation of the chromosomes. There appears, however, to be some variation in this respect: cases have been observed in the mouse in which fusion of the pronuclei occurs before the separation of the chromosomes.
As soon as the sperm cell joins with the egg, a second nucleus appears in the egg. This is certainly from the sperm cell, possibly just from its nucleus, and is called the male pronucleus. It has a distinct centrosome in the surrounding protoplasm. Generally, it seems that the female pronucleus lacks a centrosome, and no centrosome appears in the female during the divisions that produce the gamete from the progamete. If this is correct, the centrosome of the zygote nucleus must come entirely from the male pronucleus. This explains why the female pronucleus isn't surrounded by protoplasmic radiations, while such radiations are present around the male pronucleus when it approaches the female. In the mouse, the following events occur: Both pronuclei take on a resting form, with chromatin spread out over the nuclear network, and the nuclei align side by side in the center of the egg. A long loop of chromatin then appears in each nucleus and divides into twelve pieces, known as chromosomes. The centrosome now divides, the membranes of both nuclei disappear, and a spindle forms. The twenty-four chromosomes arrange themselves at the center of this spindle and split lengthwise, resulting in forty-eight chromosomes. Twenty-four of these, presumed to be twelve male and twelve female, move to each pole of the spindle and help form the two nuclei. In the next nuclear division, twenty-four chromosomes appear in each nucleus, with each dividing lengthwise; this continues in all following divisions. The fusion of the two pronuclei sometimes happens slightly differently than described for the mouse. In Echinus, for example, the two pronuclei fuse, and the spindle and chromosomes form from the zygote nucleus, whereas in the mouse, the two pronuclei remain distinct during the formation of the chromosomes. However, there seems to be some variation in this regard: instances have been observed in the mouse where the fusion of the pronuclei occurs before the chromosomes separate.
Parthenogenesis, or development of the female gamete without fertilization, is known to occur in many groups of the animal kingdom. Attempts have been made to connect this phenomenon with peculiarities in the gametogeny. For Parthenogenesis. instance, it has been said that parthenogenetic ova form only one polar body. But, as we have seen, this is sometimes the case in eggs which are fertilized, and parthenogenetic ova are known which form two polar bodies, e.g. ova of the honey-bee which produce drones (Morph. Jahrb. xv., 1889, p. 85). ova of Rotifera which produce males (Zool. Anzeiger, xx., 1897, p. 455), ova of some saw-flies and gall flies which produce females (L. Doncaster, Quart. Journ. Mic. Sc., 49, 1906, pp. 561-589). Again it has been asserted that in parthenogenetic eggs the polar bodies are not extruded from the ovum; in such cases, though the nucleus divides, those of its products which would in other cases be extruded in polar bodies remain in the protoplasm of the ovum. But this is not a universal rule, for in some cases of parthenogenesis polar bodies are extruded in the usual way (Aphis, some Lepidoptera), and in some fertilized eggs the polar bodies are retained in the ovum.
Parthenogenesis, or the development of an egg without fertilization, is found in many groups of animals. People have tried to link this phenomenon to specific traits in how gametes are produced. For Parthenogenesis. example, it has been suggested that parthenogenetic eggs produce only one polar body. However, as we've seen, this can also happen with fertilized eggs, and there are parthenogenetic eggs that produce two polar bodies, like the eggs of honey-bees that create drones (Morph. Jahrb. xv., 1889, p. 85), the eggs of Rotifera that produce males (Zool. Anzeiger, xx., 1897, p. 455), and the eggs of some saw-flies and gall flies that produce females (L. Doncaster, Quart. Journ. Mic. Sc., 49, 1906, pp. 561-589). It's also been claimed that in parthenogenetic eggs, the polar bodies aren't expelled from the egg; in these instances, although the nucleus divides, the parts that would typically be ejected as polar bodies stay in the egg's cytoplasm. But this isn’t always the case, since with some parthenogenetic eggs, polar bodies are expelled as usual (Aphis, some Lepidoptera), and in some fertilized eggs, the polar bodies remain in the egg.
It is quite probable that parthenogenesis is more common than has been supposed, and it appears that there is some evidence to show that ova, which in normal conditions are incapable of developing without fertilization, may yet develop if subjected to an altered environment. For instance, it has been asserted that the addition of a certain quantity of chloride of magnesium and other substances to sea-water will cause the unfertilized ova of certain marine animals (Arbacia, Chaetopterus) to develop (J. Loeb, American Journal of Physiology, ix., 1901, p. 423); and according to M.Y. Delage (Comptes rendus, 135, 1902. Nos. 15 and 16) such development may occur after the formation of polar bodies, the chromosomes undergoing reduction and the full number being regained in the segmenting stage. These experiments, if authenticated, suggest that ova have the power of development, but are not able to exercise it in their normal surroundings. There is reason to believe that the same assertion may be made of spermatozoa. Phenomena of the nature of parthenogenesis have never been observed in the male gamete, but it has been suggested by A. Giard (Cinquantenaire de la Soc. de Biol., 1900) that the phenomenon of the so-called fertilization of an enucleated ovum which has been described by T. Boveri and Delage in various eggs, and which results in development up to the larval form (merogony), is in reality a case in which the male gamete, unable to undergo development in ordinary circumstances on account of its small size and specialization of structure has obtained a nutritive environment which enables it to display its latent power of development. Moreover, A.M. Giard suggests that in some cases of apparently normal fertilization one of the pronuclei may degenerate, the resultant embryo being the product of one pronucleus only. In this way he explains certain cases of hybridization in which the paternal (rarely the maternal) type is exclusively reproduced. For instance, in the batrachiate Amphibia, Héron Royer succeeded in 1883 in rearing, out of a vast number of attempts, a few hybrids between a female Pelobates fuscus and a male Rana fusca; the product was a Rana fusca. He also crossed a female Bufo vulgaris with a male Bufo calamita; in the few cases which reached maturity the product was obviously a Bufo calamita. Finally, H.E. Ziegler (Arch. f. Ent.-Mech., 1898, p. 249) divided the just-fertilized ovum of a sea-urchin in such a way that each half had one pronucleus; the half with the male pronucleus segmented and formed a blastula, the other degenerated. It is said that in a few species of animals males do not occur, and that parthenogenesis is the sole means of reproduction (a species of Ostracoda among Crustacea; species of Tenthredinidae, Cynipidae and Coccidae among Insecta); this is the thelytoky of K.T.E. von Siebold. The number of species in which males are unknown is constantly decreasing, and it is quite possible that the phenomenon does not exist. Parthenogenesis, however, is undoubtedly of frequent occurrence, and is of four kinds, namely, (1) that in which males alone are produced, e.g. honey-bees (arrhenotoky); (2) that in which females only are produced (thelytoky), as in some saw-flies; (3) that in which both sexes are produced (deuterotoky), as in some saw-flies; (4) that in which there is an alternation of sexual and parthenogenetic generations, as in Aphidae, many Cynipidae, &c. It would appear that “parthenogenesis does not favour the production of one sex more than another, but it is clear that it decidedly favours the production of a brood that is entirely of one sex, but which sex that is differs according to circumstances” (D. Sharp, Cambridge Natural History, “Insects,” pt. i. p. 498). In some Insecta and Crustacea exceptional parthenogenesis occurs: a certain proportion of the eggs laid are capable of undergoing either the whole or a part of development parthenogenetically, e.g. Bombyx mori, &c. (A. Brauer, Arch. f. mikr. Anat., 1893; consult also E. Maupas on parthenogenesis of Rotifera, Comp. rend., 1889-1891, and R. Lauterborn, Biol. Centralblatt, xviii., 1898, p. 173).
It’s very likely that parthenogenesis happens more often than we've thought. There’s some evidence suggesting that eggs, which typically need fertilization to develop, can actually develop in a different environment. For instance, it’s been claimed that adding a specific amount of magnesium chloride and other substances to seawater can make unfertilized eggs of certain marine animals (Arbacia, Chaetopterus) develop (J. Loeb, American Journal of Physiology, ix., 1901, p. 423). M.Y. Delage said (Comptes rendus, 135, 1902. Nos. 15 and 16) that this development can happen after the formation of polar bodies, with the chromosomes reducing and then returning to their full number in the segmenting stage. If these experiments are verified, they indicate that eggs can develop, but they can’t do so in their normal environment. There’s also reason to think that sperm can have the same potential. Although we’ve never seen parthenogenesis in sperm, A. Giard (Cinquantenaire de la Soc. de Biol., 1900) suggested that what we call the fertilization of an enucleated egg, described by T. Boveri and Delage in various eggs, resulting in development up to the larval stage (merogony), might actually be when the male gamete, which usually can’t develop because of its small size and specialized structure, gets an environment that allows it to show its hidden potential for development. Additionally, A.M. Giard proposed that in some cases of apparently normal fertilization, one of the pronuclei might degenerate, leading to an embryo formed from just one pronucleus. He uses this idea to explain certain hybridization cases where the paternal type (rarely the maternal) is produced exclusively. For example, in the amphibian group, Héron Royer succeeded in 1883, after many attempts, in creating a few hybrids from a female Pelobates fuscus and a male Rana fusca; the result was a Rana fusca. He also crossed a female Bufo vulgaris with a male Bufo calamita; in the few cases that matured, the result was clearly a Bufo calamita. Lastly, H.E. Ziegler (Arch. f. Ent.-Mech., 1898, p. 249) split a just-fertilized sea urchin egg so that each half had one pronucleus; the half with the male pronucleus segmented and formed a blastula, while the other half degenerated. It’s said that in some animal species, males don’t exist, and parthenogenesis is the only way they reproduce (for example, a type of Ostracoda among crustaceans; species of Tenthredinidae, Cynipidae, and Coccidae among insects); this is known as thelytoky, according to K.T.E. von Siebold. The number of species where males are unknown keeps decreasing, and it’s quite possible that this phenomenon doesn’t occur. However, parthenogenesis definitely occurs often and comes in four types: (1) where only males are produced, like in honeybees (arrhenotoky); (2) where only females are produced (thelytoky), as seen in some saw-flies; (3) where both sexes are produced (deuterotoky), also seen in some saw-flies; (4) where there is a shift between sexual and parthenogenetic generations, as in aphids and many Cynipidae, etc. It seems that “parthenogenesis doesn’t promote the production of one sex over another, but it does tend to favor producing a brood that is entirely one sex, which can vary based on circumstances” (D. Sharp, Cambridge Natural History, “Insects,” pt. i. p. 498). In some insects and crustaceans, exceptional parthenogenesis can be observed: a certain percentage of laid eggs can develop either completely or partially through parthenogenesis, such as in Bombyx mori, etc. (A. Brauer, Arch. f. mikr. Anat., 1893; also check E. Maupas on the parthenogenesis of Rotifera, Comp. rend., 1889-1891, and R. Lauterborn, Biol. Centralblatt, xviii., 1898, p. 173).
The question of the determination of sex may be alluded to here. Is sex determined at the act of conjugation of the two gametes? Is it, in other words, an unalterable property of the zygote, a genetic character? Or does it depend Determination of sex. upon the conditions to which the zygote is subjected in its development? In other words, is it an acquired character? It is impossible in the present state of knowledge to answer these questions satisfactorily, but the balance of evidence appears to favour the view that sex is an unalterable, inborn character. Thus those twins which are believed to come from a split zygote are always of the same sex, members of the same litter which have been submitted to exactly similar conditions are of different sexes, and all attempts to determine the sex of offspring in the higher animals by treatment have failed. On the other hand, the male bee is a portion of a female zygote—the queen-bee. The same remark applies to the male Rotifer, in which the zygote always gives rise to a female, from which the male arises parthenogenetically, but in these cases it does not appear that the production of males is in any way affected by external conditions (see R.C. Punnett, Proc. Royal Soc., 78 B, 1906, p. 223). It is said that in human societies the number of males born increases after wars and famines, but this, if true, is probably due to an affection of the gametes and not of the young zygote. For a review of the whole subject see L. Cuénot, Bull. sci. France et Belgique, xxxii., 1899, pp. 462-535.
The topic of how sex is determined is worth mentioning here. Is sex determined at the moment the two gametes combine? In other words, is it a fixed trait of the zygote, a genetic characteristic? Or does it depend on the conditions the zygote experiences during its development? In other words, is it a trait that is acquired? With our current understanding, it’s impossible to answer these questions definitively, but the evidence seems to support the idea that sex is a fixed, inherent characteristic. For example, twins that are believed to come from a split zygote are always the same sex, while members of the same litter that undergo identical conditions may be of different sexes, and all attempts to influence the sex of offspring in higher animals through treatment have failed. On the flip side, the male bee develops from a female zygote—the queen bee. The same goes for the male Rotifer, where the zygote always produces a female, and the male arises parthenogenetically, but in these situations, it doesn’t seem that external conditions affect the production of males (see R.C. Punnett, Proc. Royal Soc., 78 B, 1906, p. 223). It's said that in human societies, the number of males born increases after wars and famines, but if this is true, it's likely due to changes in the gametes rather than the developing zygote. For a comprehensive review of the entire topic, see L. Cuénot, Bull. sci. France et Belgique, xxxii., 1899, pp. 462-535.
The first change the zygote undergoes in all animals is what is generally called the segmentation or cleavage of the ovum. This consists essentially of the division of the nucleus into a number of nuclei, around which the protoplasm sooner or later Cleavage. 317 becomes arranged in the manner ordinarily spoken of as cellular. This division of the nucleus is effected by the process called binary fission; that is to say, it first divides into two, then each of these divides simultaneously again into two, giving four nuclei; each of these after a pause again simultaneously divides into two. So the process continues for some time until the ovum becomes possessed of a large number of nuclei, all of which have proceeded from the original nucleus by a series of binary fissions. This division of the nucleus, which constitutes the essential part of the cleavage of the ovum, continues through the whole of life, but it is only in the earliest period that it is distinguished by a distinct name and used to characterize a stage of development. The nuclear division of cleavage is usually at first a rhythmical process; all the nuclei divide simultaneously, and periods of nuclear activity alternate with periods of rest. Nuclear divisions may be said to be of three kinds, according to the accompanying changes in the surrounding protoplasm: (1) accompanied by no visible change, e.g. the multinucleated Protozoon Actinosphaerium; (2) accompanied by a rearrangement of the protoplasm around each nucleus, but not by its division into two separate masses, e.g. the division which results in the formation of a colony of Protozoa; (3) accompanied by the division of the protoplasm into two parts, so that two distinct cells result, e.g. the divisions by which the free wandering leucocytes are produced, the reproduction of uninuclear Protozoa, &c. In the cleavage of the ovum the first two of these methods of division are found, but probably not the third. At one time it was thought that the nuclear divisions of cleavage were always of the third kind, and the result of cleavage was supposed to be a mass of isolated cells, which became reunited in the subsequent development to give rise to the later connexion between the tissues which were known to exist. But in 1885 it was noticed that in the ovum of Peripatus capensis (A. Sedgwick, Quart. Journ. Mic. Science, xxv., 1885, p. 449) the extra-nuclear protoplasm did not divide in the cleavage of the ovum, but merely became rearranged round the increasing nuclei; the continuity of the protoplasm was not broken, but persisted into the later stages of growth, and gave rise to the tissue-connexions which undoubtedly exist in the adult. This discovery was of some importance, because it rendered intelligible the unity of the embryo so far as its developmental processes are concerned, the maintenance of this unity being somewhat surprising on the previous view. On further inquiry and examination it was found that the ova of many other animals presented a cleavage essentially similar to that of Peripatus. Indeed, it was found that the nuclear divisions of cleavage were of the first two kinds just described. In some eggs, e.g. the Alcyonaria, the first nuclear divisions are effected on the first plan, i.e. they take place without at first producing any visible effect upon the protoplasm of the egg. But in the later stages of cleavage the protoplasm becomes arranged around each nucleus and related to it as to a centre. In the majority of eggs, however, the protoplasm, though not undergoing complete cleavage, becomes rearranged round each nucleus as these are formed. The best and clearest instance of this is afforded by many Arthropodan eggs, in which the nucleus of the just-formed zygote takes up a central position, where it undergoes its first division, subsequent divisions taking place entirely within the egg and not in any way affecting its exterior. The result is to give rise to a nucleated network or foam-work of protoplasm, ramifying through the yolk-particles and containing these in its meshes.
The first change that the zygote goes through in all animals is generally called the segmentation or cleavage of the ovum. This mainly involves the division of the nucleus into multiple nuclei, around which the protoplasm eventually arranges itself in what we typically refer to as a cellular structure. This division of the nucleus happens through a process called binary fission; it first splits into two, then each of these divides simultaneously again into two, resulting in four nuclei; each of these then also simultaneously divides into two. This process goes on for some time until the ovum has a large number of nuclei, all of which originated from the original nucleus through a series of binary fissions. While this division of the nucleus is a key part of ovum cleavage, it only has a specific name and characterizes a developmental stage during the earliest period. The nuclear division during cleavage typically starts off as a rhythmic process; all the nuclei divide at the same time, alternating periods of nuclear activity with periods of rest. Nuclear divisions can be classified into three types based on the accompanying changes in the surrounding protoplasm: (1) with no visible change, e.g., the multinucleated protozoan *Actinosphaerium*; (2) with a rearrangement of the protoplasm around each nucleus, but without dividing it into two separate masses, e.g., the division leading to the formation of a colony of protozoa; (3) with the division of the protoplasm into two parts, resulting in two distinct cells, e.g., the divisions that produce free wandering leukocytes, the reproduction of uninuclear protozoa, etc. In the cleavage of the ovum, the first two types of division occur, but not likely the third. At one point, it was believed that the nuclear divisions of cleavage were always of the third type, and cleavage resulted in a mass of isolated cells that later came together during development to create the connections between the tissues known to exist. However, in 1885, it was observed in the ovum of *Peripatus capensis* (A. Sedgwick, *Quart. Journ. Mic. Science*, xxv., 1885, p. 449) that the extra-nuclear protoplasm did not divide during ovum cleavage; it merely rearranged itself around the increasing nuclei. The continuity of the protoplasm remained intact and continued into later growth stages, leading to the tissue connections that undeniably exist in the adult. This discovery was significant because it clarified the unity of the embryo concerning its developmental processes, making the maintenance of this unity surprising under the previous understanding. Further investigation revealed that the eggs of many other animals showed cleavage that was essentially similar to that of *Peripatus*. In fact, it was found that the nuclear divisions during cleavage were of the first two types just described. In some eggs, like those from the Alcyonaria, the first nuclear divisions occur in the first manner, meaning they initially take place without causing any visible effect on the egg's protoplasm. However, in the later cleavage stages, the protoplasm arranges itself around each nucleus, relating to it as a center. In the majority of eggs, while the protoplasm does not undergo complete cleavage, it rearranges around each nucleus as these are formed. A clear example of this is seen in many arthropod eggs, where the nucleus of the newly formed zygote occupies a central position, undergoing its first division, with subsequent divisions taking place entirely within the egg and not affecting its exterior. The outcome is a nucleated network or foam-like structure of protoplasm that spreads through the yolk particles and captures these within its mesh.
In other Arthropodan eggs the cleavage is on the so-called centrolecithal type, in which the dividing nuclei pass to the cortex of the ovum, and the surface of the ovum becomes indented with grooves corresponding to each nucleus. In this kind of cleavage all the so-called segments are continuous with the central undivided yolk-mass. It sometimes happens that in Arthropods the egg breaks up into masses, which cannot be said to have the value of cells, as they are frequently without nuclei. In other eggs, characterized by a considerable amount of yolk, e.g. the ova of Cephalopoda, and of the Vertebrata with much yolk, the first nucleus takes up an eccentric position in a small patch of protoplasm which is comparatively free from yolk-particles. This patch is the germinal disc, and the nuclear divisions are confined to it and to the transitional region, where it merges into the denser yolk which makes up the bulk of the egg. At the close of segmentation the germinal disc consists of a number of nuclei, each surrounded by its own mass of protoplasm, which is, however, not separated from the protoplasm round the neighbouring nuclei, as was formerly supposed, but is continuous at the points of contact. In this manner the germinal disc has become converted into the blastoderm, which consists of a small watch-glass-shaped mass of so-called cells resting on, but continuous with, the large yolk-mass. It is characteristic of this kind of ovum that there is always a row of nuclei, called the yolk-nuclei, placed in the denser yolk immediately adjacent to the blastoderm. These nuclei are continually undergoing division, one of the products of division, together with a little of the sparse yolk protoplasm, passing into the blastoderm to reinforce it (so-called formative cells). The other product of the dividing yolk-nuclei remains in the yolk, in readiness for the next division. In this manner nucleated masses of protoplasm are continually being added to the periphery of the blastoderm and assisting in its growth. But it must be borne in mind that all the nucleated masses of which the blastoderm consists are in continuity with each other and with the sparse protoplasmic reticulum of the subjacent yolk.
In other Arthropod eggs, the cleavage follows the centrolecithal type, where the dividing nuclei move to the outer layer of the egg, causing the surface to have grooves that correspond to each nucleus. In this type of cleavage, all the segments are connected to the central undivided yolk mass. Sometimes, in Arthropods, the egg breaks into masses that cannot be considered true cells, as they often lack nuclei. In other eggs, which have a significant amount of yolk, like those of Cephalopoda and Vertebrates with a lot of yolk, the first nucleus is positioned eccentrically within a small area of protoplasm that is relatively free from yolk particles. This area is known as the germinal disc, and nuclear divisions are limited to this area and the transition zone where it meets the denser yolk that constitutes most of the egg. By the end of segmentation, the germinal disc consists of several nuclei, each surrounded by its own protoplasmic mass, which is not separated from the protoplasm around neighboring nuclei as was previously thought, but is continuous at the contact points. This way, the germinal disc has transitioned into the blastoderm, which is a small watch-glass-shaped mass of so-called cells that rests on but connects with the large yolk mass. A characteristic of this type of egg is that there is always a row of nuclei, called yolk nuclei, located in the denser yolk right next to the blastoderm. These nuclei are constantly dividing, with one of the division products, along with a little of the sparse yolk protoplasm, joining the blastoderm to help it grow (these are called formative cells). The other product from the dividing yolk nuclei remains in the yolk, ready for the next division. In this way, nucleated masses of protoplasm are continuously added to the edge of the blastoderm, contributing to its growth. However, it is important to remember that all the nucleated masses forming the blastoderm are connected with each other and with the sparse protoplasmic network of the underlying yolk.
In the great majority of eggs, then, the nuclear division of cleavage is not accompanied by a complete division of the ovum into separate cells, but only by a rearrangement of the protoplasm, which produces, indeed, the so-called cellular arrangement, and an appearance only of separate cells. But there still remain to be mentioned those small eggs in which the amount of yolk is inconsiderable, and in which division of the nuclei does appear to be accompanied by a complete division of the surrounding protoplasm into separate unconnected cells—ova of many Annelida, Mollusca, Echinoderma, &c., and of Mammalia amongst Vertebrata. In the case of these also (G.F. Andrews, Zool. Bulletin, ii., 1898) it has been shown that the apparently separate spheres are connected by a number of fine anastomosing threads of a hyaline protoplasm, which are not easy to detect and are readily destroyed by the action of reagents. It is therefore probable that the divisions of the nuclei in cleavage are in no case accompanied by complete division of the surrounding protoplasm, and the organism in the cleavage stage is a continuous whole, as it is in all the other stages of its existence.
In most eggs, the nuclear division during cleavage doesn't lead to the complete splitting of the egg into separate cells; instead, it just rearranges the protoplasm, creating what looks like a cellular structure and gives the illusion of separate cells. However, there are smaller eggs with minimal yolk where nuclear division seems to result in a complete division of the surrounding protoplasm into separate, unconnected cells—like those found in many Annelida, Mollusca, Echinodermata, etc., as well as in Mammals among Vertebrates. In these cases (G.F. Andrews, Zool. Bulletin, ii., 1898), it has been shown that the seemingly separate spheres are actually connected by fine, intertwining threads of clear protoplasm, which are hard to see and easily damaged by reagents. Therefore, it's likely that the nucleic divisions during cleavage are never accompanied by a complete division of the surrounding protoplasm, and the organism at the cleavage stage is a continuous entity, just like in all other stages of its life.
Of late years a great number of experiments have been made to discover the effects of dividing the embryo during its cleavage, and of destroying certain portions of it. These experiments have been made with the object of testing the Division of embryo. view, held by some authorities, that certain segments are already set apart in cleavage to give rise to certain adult organs, so that if they were destroyed the organs in question could not be developed. The results obtained have not borne out this view. Speaking generally, it may be said that they have been different according to the stage at which the separation was effected and the conditions under which the experiment was carried out. If the experiment be made at a sufficiently early stage, each part, if not too small, will develop into a normal, though small, embryo. In some cases the embryo remained imperfect for a certain time after the experiment, but the loss is eventually made good by regeneration. (For a summary of the work done on this subject see R.S. Bergh, Zool. Centralblatt, vii., 1900, p. 1.)
Recently, a lot of experiments have been conducted to find out what happens when the embryo is divided during its cleavage, and when certain parts are destroyed. These experiments aimed to test the idea, held by some experts, that specific segments are already destined in cleavage to develop into certain adult organs, meaning that if those segments were destroyed, the corresponding organs wouldn’t form. The results have not supported this idea. Generally speaking, they have varied depending on when the separation occurred and the conditions of the experiment. If the separation is made at an early enough stage, each part, as long as it’s not too small, will develop into a normal, albeit smaller, embryo. In some cases, the embryo was not fully formed for a while after the experiment, but any shortcomings were eventually corrected through regeneration. (For a summary of the work done on this subject see R.S. Bergh, Zool. Centralblatt, vii., 1900, p. 1.)
The end of cleavage is marked by the commencement of the differentiation of the organs. The first differentiation is the formation of the layers. These are three in number, being called respectively the ectoderm, endoderm and The layer theory. mesoderm, or, in embryos in which at their first appearance they lie like sheets one above the other, the epiblast, hypoblast and mesoblast. The layers are sometimes spoken of as the primary organs, and their importance lies in the fact that they are supposed to be generally homologous throughout the series of the Metazoa. This view, which is based partly 318 on their origin and partly on their fate, had great influence on the science of comparative anatomy during the last thirty years of the 19th century, for the homology of the layers being admitted, they afforded a kind of final court of appeal in determining questions of doubtful homologies between adult organs. Great importance was therefore attached to them by embryologists, and both their mode of development and the part which they play in forming the adult organs were examined with the greatest care. It is very unusual for all the layers to be established at the same time. As a general rule the ectoderm and endoderm, which may be called the primary layers, come first, and later the mesoderm is developed from one or other of them. There are two main methods in which the first two are differentiated—invagination and delamination. The former is generally found in small eggs, in which the embryo at the close of cleavage assumes the form of a sphere, having a fluid or gelatinous material in its centre, and bounded externally by a thin layer of protoplasm, in which all the nuclei are contained. Such a sphere is called a blastosphere, and may be regarded as a spherical mass of protoplasm, of which the central portion is so much vacuolated that it seems to consist entirely of fluid. The central part of the blastosphere is called the segmentation cavity or blastocoel. The blastosphere soon gives rise, by the invagination of one part of its wall upon the other, and a consequent obliteration of the segmentation cavity, to a double-walled cup with a wide opening, which, however, soon becomes narrowed to a small pore. This cup-stage is called the gastrula stage; the outer wall of the gastrula is the ectoderm, and its inner the endoderm; while its cavity is the enteron, and the opening to the exterior the blastopore. Origin of the primary layers by delamination occurs universally in eggs with large yolks (Cephalopoda and many Vertebrata), and occasionally in others. In it cleavage gives rise to a solid mass, which divides by delamination into two layers, the ectoderm and endoderm. The main difference between the two methods of development lies in the fact that in the first of them the endoderm at its first origin shows the relations which it possesses in the adult, namely, of forming the epithelial wall of the enteric space, whereas in the second method the endoderm is at first a solid mass, in which the enteric space makes its appearance later by excavation. In the delaminate method the enteric space is at first without a blastopore, and sometimes it never acquires this opening, but a blastopore is frequently formed, and the two-layered gastrula stage is reached, though by a very different route from that taken in the formation of the invaginate gastrula. According to the layer-theory, these two layers are homologous throughout the series of Metazoa; their limits can always be accurately defined, they give rise to the same organs in all cases, and the adult organs (excluding the mesodermal organs) can be traced back to one or other of them with absolute precision. Thus the ectoderm gives rise to the epidermis, to the nervous system, and to the lining of the stomodaeum and proctodaeum, if such parts of the alimentary canal are present. The endoderm, on the other hand, gives rise to the lining of the enteron, and of the glands which open into it.
The end of cleavage signals the start of organ differentiation. The first differentiation involves the formation of three layers: ectoderm, endoderm, and The layer theory. mesoderm, which can also be referred to in embryos as epiblast, hypoblast, and mesoblast when they appear like sheets stacked on top of each other. These layers are sometimes called the primary organs and are considered significant because they are generally homologous across the Metazoa series. This perspective, based on both their origin and their future roles, significantly influenced comparative anatomy science during the last thirty years of the 19th century. With the acceptance of the layers' homology, they served as a critical reference for addressing questions about uncertain homologies between adult organs. As a result, embryologists paid close attention to them, meticulously analyzing their development and their roles in forming adult organs. It's quite rare for all layers to form simultaneously. Typically, the ectoderm and endoderm, the primary layers, develop first, followed by the mesoderm arising from one of them. The first two layers can differentiate through two main methods: invagination and delamination. The former typically occurs in small eggs, where the embryo, at the end of cleavage, takes on a spherical shape, with a fluid or gelatinous center surrounded by a thin layer of protoplasm containing all the nuclei. This structure is called a blastosphere, resembling a globular mass of protoplasm, with the central part being so vacuolated that it appears entirely fluid. The center of the blastosphere is known as the segmentation cavity or blastocoel. The blastosphere then forms a double-walled cup with a wide opening through the invagination of part of its wall onto itself, leading to the obliteration of the segmentation cavity, which becomes a small pore. This cup shape is known as the gastrula stage; the outer wall is the ectoderm, the inner wall is the endoderm, the cavity is the enteron, and the external opening is the blastopore. The formation of primary layers via delamination happens typically in eggs with large yolks (like Cephalopoda and many Vertebrates) and occasionally in others. In this method, cleavage produces a solid mass that divides into two layers, the ectoderm and endoderm, through delamination. The key difference between these two methods is that in the first, the endoderm initially displays its adult relationships by forming the epithelial wall of the enteric space, while in the second method, the endoderm starts as a solid mass and the enteric space later forms through excavation. In the delamination method, the enteric space initially lacks a blastopore, and sometimes it may never develop one, but it often ends up forming a blastopore, reaching the two-layered gastrula stage, though through a very different path than the invaginate gastrula. According to the layer-theory, these two layers are homologous throughout the Metazoa series; their boundaries can always be precisely defined, they lead to the same organs in all instances, and the adult organs (excluding those derived from the mesoderm) can be traced back to one of the layers with complete accuracy. The ectoderm develops into the epidermis, the nervous system, and the linings of the stomodaeum and proctodaeum, if these parts of the digestive tract exist. Conversely, the endoderm forms the lining of the enteron and the glands that connect to it.
So far as these two layers are concerned, and excluding the mesoderm, it would appear that the layer-theory does apply in a very remarkable manner to the whole of the Metazoa. But even here, when the actual facts are closely scanned, there are found to be difficulties, which appear to indicate that the theory may not perhaps be such an infallible guide as it seems at first sight. Leaving out of consideration the case of the Mammalia, in which the differentiation of the segmented ovum is not into ectoderm and endoderm, and the case of the sponges, the most important of these difficulties concern the stomodaeum and proctodaeum. The best case to examine is that of Peripatus capensis, in which the blastopore is at first a long slit, and gives rise to both the mouth and the anus of the adult. Here there is always found at the lips of the blastopore, and extending for a short distance inwards as enteric lining, a certain amount of tissue, which by its characters must be regarded as ectoderm. Now, in the closure of the blastopore between the mouth and anus, this tissue, which at the mouth and anus develops into the lining of the stomodaeum and proctodaeum, is left inside, and actually gives rise to the median ventral epithelium of the alimentary canal. Hence the development of Peripatus capensis suggests the conclusion, if we strictly apply the layer-theory, that a considerable portion of the true mesenteron is lined by ectoderm, and is not homologous with the corresponding portion of the mesenteron of other animals—a conclusion which will on all hands be admitted to be absurd. The difficulties in the application of the layer-theory become vastly greater when the Mesoderm. origin and fate of the mesoderm is considered. The mesoderm is, if we may judge from the number of organs which are derived from it, much the most important of the three layers. It generally arises later than the others, and in its very origin presents difficulties to the theory, which are much increased when we consider its history. It is generally, though not always, developed from the endoderm, either as hollow outgrowths containing prolongations of the enteric cavity, which become the coelom, or as solid proliferations. But in some groups the mesoderm is actually laid down in cleavage, and is present at the end of that process. In others it is entirely derived from the ectoderm (Peripatus capensis). In yet others it is partly derived from endoderm and partly from ectoderm (primitive streak of amniotic Vertebrates). Finally, in whatever manner the first rudiments are developed, it frequently receives considerable reinforcements from one of the primary layers. For instance, the structure known as the nerve crest of the vertebrate embryo is not, as was formerly supposed, exclusively concerned with the formation of the spinal nerves and ganglia, but contributes largely to the mesoderm of the axial region of the body. This is particularly clearly seen in the case of the anterior part of the head of Elasmobranch and probably of other vertebrate embryos, where all the mesoderm present is derived from the anterior part of the neural crest (Quart. Journ. Mic. Science, xxxvii. p. 92).
As far as these two layers go, and excluding the mesoderm, it seems that the layer theory applies quite impressively to all Metazoa. However, when you look closely at the actual facts, there are challenges that suggest the theory may not be as foolproof as it initially appears. Excluding the case of Mammals, where the differentiated segmented egg does not separate into ectoderm and endoderm, and the situation with sponges, the main challenges relate to the stomodaeum and proctodaeum. The best case to examine is that of Peripatus capensis, where the blastopore starts as a long slit and eventually forms both the mouth and anus of the adult. At the edges of the blastopore, extending a short way inward as the lining of the digestive tract, there’s a certain type of tissue that must be classified as ectoderm. When the blastopore closes between the mouth and anus, this tissue, which develops into the lining of the stomodaeum and proctodaeum, remains inside and actually forms the median ventral epithelium of the digestive canal. Therefore, if we strictly apply the layer theory to Peripatus capensis, it suggests that a significant part of the true mesenteron is lined by ectoderm and is not homologous with the corresponding part of the mesenteron in other animals—a conclusion that everyone would likely agree is ludicrous. The challenges in using the layer theory become much more pronounced when we look at the origin and fate of the mesoderm. The mesoderm is, judging by the number of organs derived from it, by far the most crucial of the three layers. It typically develops later than the others, and its very origin poses issues for the theory, which are further complicated when we study its history. Generally, but not always, it originates from the endoderm, either as hollow outgrowths containing extensions of the digestive cavity that become the coelom, or as solid growths. However, in some groups, the mesoderm is established during cleavage and is present at the end of that process. In others, it is completely derived from ectoderm (Peripatus capensis). In yet others, it comes partially from endoderm and partially from ectoderm (the primitive streak of amniotic Vertebrates). Lastly, regardless of how the initial rudiments develop, it often receives significant contributions from one of the primary layers. For instance, the structure known as the nerve crest in vertebrate embryos is not, as was previously thought, solely involved in forming the spinal nerves and ganglia, but also plays a significant role in the mesoderm of the body’s axial region. This is particularly evident in the front part of the head of Elasmobranchs and likely other vertebrate embryos, where all present mesoderm comes from the front part of the neural crest (Quart. Journ. Mic. Science, xxxvii. p. 92).
The layer-theory, then, will not bear critical examination. It is clear, both from their origin and history, that the layers or masses of cells called ectoderm, endoderm and mesoderm have not the same value in different animals; indeed, it is misleading to speak of three layers. At the most we can only speak of two, for the mesoderm is formed after the others, has a composite origin, and has no more claim to be considered an embryonic layer than has the rudiment of the central nervous system, which in some animals, indeed, appears as soon as the mesoderm. Arguments as to homology, based on derivation or non-derivation from the same embryonic layer, have therefore in themselves but little value.
The layer theory can't stand up to scrutiny. It's clear, based on their origin and history, that the layers of cells known as ectoderm, endoderm, and mesoderm don't hold the same importance in different animals; in fact, it's misleading to refer to them as three layers. At most, we can only discuss two, since the mesoderm forms after the others, has a mixed origin, and has no more right to be considered an embryonic layer than the early version of the central nervous system, which appears in some animals even before the mesoderm. Therefore, arguments about homology, whether based on whether something derives from the same embryonic layer or not, have limited value in themselves.
It has frequently been asserted that the reproductive cells are marked off at a very early stage of the development (Sagitta, certain Crustacea, Scorpio). Recently it has been asserted that in Ascaris (T. Boveri, Kuppfer’s Festschrift, 1899, p. 383) the reproductive cells are set apart after the first cleavage, and that they can be traced by certain peculiarities of their nuclei into the adult reproductive glands.
It has often been claimed that the reproductive cells are distinguished at a very early stage of development (such as in Sagitta, certain Crustacea, and Scorpio). Recently, it has been stated that in Ascaris (T. Boveri, Kuppfer’s Festschrift, 1899, p. 383), the reproductive cells are separated after the first cleavage, and that they can be identified by certain unique features of their nuclei in the adult reproductive glands.
It has been already stated that the mesoderm is a composite tissue. This fact is frequently conspicuous at its first establishment. In many Coelomata it is present under two forms from the beginning. One of these is epithelial in character, Mesenchyme. while the other has the form of a network of protoplasm, with nuclei at the nodes. The former is called simply epithelial mesoderm, the latter mesenchyme. Sometimes the epithelial mesoderm is the first formed, and what little mesenchyme there is is developed from it (Amphioxus, Balanoglossus, &c.) Sometimes the mesenchyme is the first to arise, the epithelial mesoderm developing from it (most, if not all, Vertebrates). Finally, it sometimes happens that these two kinds of tissue arise separately from one or other of the primary layers (Echinodermata). As already hinted, in Balanoglossus and Amphioxus the whole of the mesoderm of the body is at first in an epithelial condition, being developed as an outgrowth of the gut-wall. In Peripatus capensis also, and possibly in other Arthropods, it has at first an intermediate form, being derived from a primitive streak and not from the gut-wall, but it rapidly assumes an epithelial structure, from which all the mesodermal tissues are developed. In Annelids the bulk of the mesoderm has at first a modified epithelial form similar to that of Arthropods, but it is formed, not from a primitive streak, but from some peculiar cells produced in cleavage, called pole-cells. In Annelids with trochosphere larvae a certain amount of mesenchyme is formed at an earlier 319 stage and gives rise to the muscular bands of the young larva. In Echinodermata a certain amount of mesenchyme appears before the epithelial mesoderm, which is formed later as gut-diverticula. In these forms the mesenchyme is said to arise as wandering amoeboid cells, which are budded into the blastocoel by the endoderm just before and during its invagination, but the writer has reason to believe that this account of it does not quite describe what happens. It would seem to be more probable that the mesenchyme arises in these forms, as it certainly does in the case of the later-formed mesenchyme of the Vertebrate embryo, as a protoplasmic outflow from its tissue of origin, passing at first along the line of pre-existent protoplasmic strands which traverse the blastocoel, and sending out at the same time processes which branch and anastomose with neighbouring processes (see E.W. MacBride, Proc. Camb. Phil. Soc., 1896, p. 153). In the Vertebrata the whole of the mesoderm has at first the mesenchyme form. Afterwards, when the body-cavity split appears, the bulk of it assumes a kind of modified epithelial condition, which later on yields, by a process of outflow very similar in its character to what has been supposed to occur in the Echinoderm blastula, a considerable mesenchyme of the reticulate character. Mesenchyme is the tissue which in Vertebrate embryology has frequently been called embryonic connective tissue. This name is no doubt due to the fact that it was supposed to consist of isolated stellate cells. It is, however, in no sense of the word connective tissue, because it gives rise to many organs having nothing whatever to do with connective tissue. For instance, in Vertebrata this tissue gives rise to nervous tissue, blood-vessels, renal tubules, smooth muscular fibres, and other structures, as well as to connective and skeletal tissues. The Vertebrata, indeed, are remarkable for the fact that the epithelial tissues of the so-called mesoderm, e.g. the epithelial lining of the body-cavity, and of the renal tubules and urogenital tracts, all pass through the mesenchymatous condition, whereas in Amphioxus, Balanoglossus and presumably Sagitta and the Brachiopoda, all the mesodermal tissues pass through the epithelial condition, most of the mesodermal tissues of the adult retaining this condition permanently. As has been implied in the above account, mesenchyme is usually formed from epithelial mesoderm or from endoderm, or from tissue destined to form endoderm. It is also sometimes formed from ectoderm, as in the Vertebrata at the nerve crest and other places. In some Coelenterata also it appears certain that the ectoderm does furnish tissue of a mesenchymatous nature which passes into the jelly, but this phenomenon takes place comparatively late in life, at any rate after the embryonic period. In this connexion it may be interesting to point out that in many Coelenterates all the tissues of the body retain throughout life the epithelial condition, nothing comparable to mesenchyme ever being formed.
It has already been mentioned that the mesoderm is a mixed tissue. This is often obvious from the very start. In many Coelomata, it exists in two forms right from the beginning. One of these is epithelial in nature, Mesenchymal tissue. while the other takes the shape of a network of protoplasm, with nuclei at the junctions. The first is called epithelial mesoderm, while the second is known as mesenchyme. Sometimes the epithelial mesoderm is formed first, and any available mesenchyme develops from it (like in Amphioxus, Balanoglossus, etc.). Other times, mesenchyme is formed first, and the epithelial mesoderm develops from it (which is the case in most, if not all, Vertebrates). It can also happen that these two types of tissue develop separately from one of the primary layers (like in Echinodermata). As mentioned before, in Balanoglossus and Amphioxus, all the mesoderm in the body is initially in an epithelial state, developing as an outgrowth of the gut wall. In Peripatus capensis as well, and possibly in other Arthropods, it starts with an intermediate form, originating from a primitive streak rather than the gut wall, but quickly takes on an epithelial structure, from which all mesodermal tissues are developed. In Annelids, most of the mesoderm initially has a modified epithelial form similar to that of Arthropods, but it originates not from a primitive streak but from specific cells produced during cleavage, called pole-cells. In Annelids with trochosphere larvae, some mesenchyme is formed at an earlier stage, contributing to the muscular bands of the young larva. In Echinodermata, a certain amount of mesenchyme appears before the epithelial mesoderm, which forms later as gut diverticula. In these cases, mesenchyme is believed to originate as wandering amoeboid cells, which are produced in the blastocoel by the endoderm right before and during its invagination, but the author believes this explanation may not fully capture the process. It's likely that in these forms, as it definitely does in the later-formed mesenchyme of the Vertebrate embryo, mesenchyme arises as a protoplasmic outflow from its origin tissue, initially following the pre-existing protoplasmic strands through the blastocoel, and simultaneously extending processes that branch and connect with neighboring ones (see E.W. MacBride, Proc. Camb. Phil. Soc., 1896, p. 153). In Vertebrates, all the mesoderm starts out in the form of mesenchyme. Later, when the body cavity splits, most of it takes on a modified epithelial condition, which eventually produces a significant amount of mesenchyme of a reticulate nature, in a manner similar to what's been described for the Echinoderm blastula. Mesenchyme is the tissue that is often referred to as embryonic connective tissue in Vertebrate embryology. This name likely comes from the assumption that it is made up of isolated star-shaped cells. However, it is not really connective tissue, as it gives rise to many organs that are not related to connective tissue at all. For instance, in Vertebrates, this tissue gives rise to nervous tissue, blood vessels, renal tubules, smooth muscle fibers, and other structures, in addition to connective and skeletal tissues. Vertebrates are particularly notable for the fact that the epithelial tissues of the so-called mesoderm, like the epithelial lining of the body cavity and renal tubules and urogenital tracts, all go through a mesenchymatous state, whereas in Amphioxus, Balanoglossus, and likely in Sagitta and the Brachiopoda, all mesodermal tissues initially go through the epithelial state, with most retaining this state permanently in adulthood. As mentioned earlier, mesenchyme usually forms from epithelial mesoderm, endoderm, or tissue that will become endoderm. It can also sometimes come from ectoderm, like in Vertebrates at the nerve crest and other locations. In some Coelenterata, it seems certain that the ectoderm does provide mesenchymatous tissue that becomes part of the jelly, but this occurs relatively late in life, after the embryonic stage. In this context, it's worth noting that in many Coelenterates, all the body tissues maintain an epithelial condition throughout their life, and nothing similar to mesenchyme is ever formed.
Finally, before leaving this branch of the subject, the fact that the three germinal layers are continuous with one another, and not isolated masses of tissue, may be emphasized. Indeed, an embryo may be defined as a multinucleated Continuity of the layers. protoplasmic mass, in which the protoplasm at any surface—whether internal or external—is in the form of a relatively dense layer, while that in the interior is much vacuolated and reduced to a more or less sparse reticulum, the nuclei either being exclusively found in the surface protoplasm, or if the embryo has any bulk and the internal reticulum is at all well developed, at the nodes of the internal reticulum as well.
Finally, before concluding this part of the topic, it's important to highlight that the three germinal layers are interconnected rather than being isolated chunks of tissue. In fact, we can define an embryo as a multinucleated Layer continuity. protoplasmic mass, where the protoplasm at any surface—whether on the inside or outside—is in the form of a relatively dense layer, while the interior consists of a lot of vacuoles and is more or less a sparse network. The nuclei are typically found either exclusively in the surface protoplasm or, if the embryo has any significant size and the internal network is well developed, at the junctions of that internal network as well.
The origin of some of the more important organs may now be considered. It is a remarkable fact that the mouth and anus develop in the most diverse ways in different groups, but as a rule either one or both of them can be traced Mouth and anus. into relation with the blastopore, the history of which must therefore be examined. In most, if not all, the great groups of the animal kingdom, e.g. in Coelenterata, Annelida, Mollusca, Vertebrata, and in Arthropoda, the blastopore or its representative is placed on the neural surface of the body, and, as will be shown later on, within the limits of the central nerve rudiment. Here it undergoes the most diverse fate, even in members of the same group. For instance, in Peripatus capensis it extends as a slit along the ventral surface, which closes up in the middle, but remains open at the two ends as the permanent mouth and anus. In other Arthropods, though full details have not yet in all cases been worked out, the following general statement may be made:—A blastopore (certain Crustacea) or its representative is formed on the neural surface of the embryo and always becomes closed, the mouth and anus arising as independent perforations later. Here no one would doubt the homology of the mouth and anus throughout the group; yet within the limits of a single genus—Peripatus—they show the most diverse modes of development. In Annelids the blastopore sometimes becomes the mouth (most Chaetopoda); sometimes it becomes the anus (Serpula); sometimes it closes up, giving rise to neither, though in this case it may assume the form of a long slit along the ventral surface before disappearing. In Mollusca its fate presents the same variations as in Annelida. Now in these groups no zoologist would deny the homology of the mouth and anus in the different forms, and yet how very different is their history even in closely allied animals. How are these apparently diverse facts to be reconciled? The only satisfactory explanation which has been offered (Sedgwick, Quart. J. Mic. Science, xxiv., 1884, p. 43) is that the blastopore is homologous in all the groups mentioned, and is the representative of the original single opening into the enteric cavity, such as at present characterizes the Coelenterata. From it the mouth and anus have been derived, as is indicated by its history in Peripatus capensis, and by the variability in its behaviour in closely allied forms; such variability in its subsequent history is due to its specialization as a larval organ, as a result of which it has lost its capacity to give rise to both mouth and anus, and sometimes to either.
The origin of some of the more important organs can now be discussed. It's striking that the mouth and anus develop in such different ways across various groups, but usually, one or both can be traced back to the blastopore, which we need to examine. In most, if not all, major groups of the animal kingdom, such as Coelenterata, Annelida, Mollusca, Vertebrata, and Arthropoda, the blastopore or its equivalent is found on the neural surface of the body, and as will be shown later, within the limits of the central nerve structure. Here, it undergoes vastly different fates, even among members of the same group. For example, in Peripatus capensis, it develops as a slit along the ventral surface, which eventually closes in the middle but remains open at both ends as the permanent mouth and anus. In other Arthropods, though we don’t yet have all the details for every case, we can generally say that a blastopore (in certain Crustacea) or its equivalent forms on the neural surface of the embryo and always closes up, with the mouth and anus appearing later as separate openings. In this scenario, no one would question the homology of the mouth and anus throughout the group; however, within a single genus—Peripatus—they exhibit a wide range of developmental methods. In Annelids, the blastopore sometimes becomes the mouth (most Chaetopoda) and sometimes it becomes the anus (Serpula); at other times, it closes up, leading to neither, although in this case, it may take the form of a long slit along the ventral surface before disappearing. In Mollusca, its fate shows the same patterns as in Annelida. In these groups, no zoologist would deny the homology of the mouth and anus across the different forms, yet their developmental history can be incredibly varied even among closely related animals. How can these seemingly different facts be explained? The only satisfactory explanation that has been suggested (Sedgwick, Quart. J. Mic. Science, xxiv., 1884, p. 43) is that the blastopore is homologous in all the mentioned groups and represents the original single opening into the digestive cavity, similar to what we see in Coelenterata today. From this, the mouth and anus have evolved, as indicated by its development in Peripatus capensis and the variability in its behavior in closely related forms; this variability in its further development results from its specialization as a larval organ, leading to a loss of its ability to give rise to both mouth and anus, and sometimes even to either one.
That the blastopore does become specialized as a larval organ is obvious in those cases in which it becomes transformed into the single opening with which some larvae are, for a time at least, alone provided, e.g. Pilidium, Echinoderm larvae, &c., and that larval characters have been the principal causes of the form of embryonic characters, strong reason to believe will be adduced later on. In the Vertebrata the behaviour of the blastopore (anus of Rusconi) is also variable in a very remarkable manner. As a rule it is slit-like in form and closes completely, but in most cases one portion of it remains open longer than the rest, as the neurenteric canal. In a few forms (e.g. Newt, Lepidosiren, &c.) the very hindermost portion of the slit-like blastopore remains permanently open as the anus, and from such cases it can be shown that the neurenteric aperture (when present) is derived from a portion of the blastopore just anterior to its hindermost end. The words “hindermost” and “anterior” are used on the assumption that the whole blastopore has retained its dorsal position; as a matter of fact the hindermost part of it—the part which persists or reopens as the anus—loses this position in the course of development and becomes shifted on to the ventral surface. This is clearly seen in Lepidosiren (Kerr, Phil. Trans. cxcii., 1900), in Elasmobranchii, and in Amniota (primitive streak). Moreover, in Lepidosiren, and possibly in some other forms, the anus, i.e. the hind end of the blastopore, is at first contained within the medullary plate and bounded behind by the medullary folds. Later the portions of the medullary plate in the neighbourhood of the anus completely atrophy, and this relation is lost. This extension of the hind end of the blastopore on to the ventral surface, and atrophy of the portion of the medullary plate in relation with it, is a highly important phenomenon, and one to which attention will be again called when the relation of the mouth to the blastopore is being considered. The remarkable fact about the Vertebrata, a feature which that group shares in common with all other Chordata (Amphioxus, Tunicata, Enteropneusta) and with the Echinodermata, is that the mouth has never been traced into relation with the blastopore. For this reason, among others, it has been held by some zoologists that the mouth of the Vertebrata is not homologous with the mouth of such groups as the Annelida, Arthropoda and Mollusca. But, as has been explained above, in face of the extraordinary variability in the history of the mouth and anus in these groups, this view cannot be regarded as in any way established. On the contrary, there are distinct reasons for thinking that the Vertebrate mouth is a derivate of the blastopore. In the first place, in Elasmobranchii (Sedgwick, Quart. Journ. Mic. Sci. xxxiii., 1892, p. 559), and in a less conspicuous form in other vertebrate groups, the mouth has at first a slit-like form, extending from the anterior end of the central nerve-tube backwards along the ventral surface of the anterior part of the embryo. This slit-like rudiment, recalling as it does the form which the blastopore assumes in so many groups and in many Vertebrata, does suggest the view that possibly the mouth of the Vertebrata may in reality be derived from a portion of an originally long slit-like neural blastopore, which has become extended anteriorly on to the ventral surface and has lost its original relation to the nerve rudiment, as has undoubtedly happened with the posterior part, which persists as the anus.
That the blastopore becomes specialized as a larval structure is clear in those instances where it changes into the single opening that some larvae have, at least for a time, like in Pilidium, Echinoderm larvae, and so on. It is also strongly believed, based on later evidence, that larval characteristics have significantly influenced the form of embryonic traits. In Vertebrates, the behavior of the blastopore (the anus of Rusconi) shows remarkable variability. Typically, it is slit-like and closes completely, but often one part remains open longer than the others, like the neurenteric canal. In some species (e.g., Newt, Lepidosiren, etc.), the very back end of the slit-like blastopore stays permanently open as the anus. From these cases, it can be shown that the neurenteric opening (when present) comes from a part of the blastopore just before its back end. The terms "back" and "anterior" are used under the assumption that the whole blastopore has kept its dorsal position; in reality, the back part of it—the part that remains or reopens as the anus—loses this position during development and moves to the ventral surface. This can be clearly observed in Lepidosiren (Kerr, Phil. Trans. cxcii., 1900), in Elasmobranchii, and in Amniota (primitive streak). Moreover, in Lepidosiren, and possibly in some other species, the anus, which is the back end of the blastopore, is initially contained within the medullary plate and is surrounded behind by the medullary folds. Later, the sections of the medullary plate near the anus completely deteriorate, and this relationship is lost. This extension of the back end of the blastopore onto the ventral surface and the atrophy of the part of the medullary plate related to it is a highly significant phenomenon, and this will be revisited when discussing the relationship of the mouth to the blastopore. A notable aspect of Vertebrates, a characteristic shared with all other Chordates (Amphioxus, Tunicata, Enteropneusta) and with Echinodermata, is that the mouth has never been shown to be connected to the blastopore. For this reason, and others, some zoologists argue that the mouth of Vertebrates is not homologous with the mouth of groups like Annelida, Arthropoda, and Mollusca. However, as explained above, in light of the extraordinary variability in the history of the mouth and anus in these groups, this view cannot be considered established. On the contrary, there are strong reasons to believe that the Vertebrate mouth originates from the blastopore. First, in Elasmobranchii (Sedgwick, Quart. Journ. Mic. Sci. xxxiii., 1892, p. 559), and in a less obvious way in other vertebrate groups, the mouth initially takes on a slit-like shape, extending from the front end of the central nerve-tube backward along the ventral surface of the anterior part of the embryo. This slit-like structure, which resembles the form that the blastopore takes in many groups and in many Vertebrates, suggests that the mouth of the Vertebrates may actually derive from part of an originally long slit-like neural blastopore that has extended forward onto the ventral surface and lost its original connection to the nerve structure, just as has undoubtedly happened with the back part that remains as the anus.
Of the other organs which develop from the two primary layers it is only possible to notice here the central nervous system. This in almost all animals develops from the ectoderm. In Cephalopods among Mollusca—the Central nervous system. development of which is remarkable from the almost complete absence of features which are supposed to have an ancestral significance—and in one or two other forms, it has been said to develop from the mesoderm; but apart from 320 these exceptional and perhaps doubtful cases, the central nervous system of all embryos arises as thickenings of the ectoderm, and in the groups above mentioned, namely, Annelida, Mollusca, Arthropoda and Vertebrata, and probably others, from the ectoderm of the blastoporal surface of the body. This surface generally becomes the ventral surface, but in Vertebrata it becomes the dorsal. These thickened tracts of ectoderm in Peripatus and a few other forms can be clearly seen to surround the blastopore. This relation is retained in the adult in Peripatus, some Mollusca and some Nemertines, in which the main lateral nerve cords are united behind the anus as well as in front of the mouth; in other forms it cannot always be demonstrated, but it can, as in the case of the Vertebrata just referred to, always be inferred; only, in the Invertebrate groups the part of the nerve rudiment which has to be inferred is the posterior part behind the blastopore, whereas in Vertebrata it is the anterior part, namely, that in front of the blastopore, assuming that the mouth is a blastoporal derivate.
Of the other organs that develop from the two primary layers, we can only mention the central nervous system here. In nearly all animals, this develops from the ectoderm. In Cephalopods among Mollusks—whose development is notable due to the almost complete lack of features that are thought to have ancestral significance—and in one or two other forms, it's said to develop from the mesoderm; but aside from these exceptional and possibly questionable cases, the central nervous system of all embryos arises from thickenings of the ectoderm. In the previously mentioned groups, including Annelida, Mollusca, Arthropoda, and Vertebrata, and likely others, this comes from the ectoderm of the blastoporal surface of the body. This surface generally becomes the ventral side, but in Vertebrata, it turns into the dorsal side. These thickened areas of ectoderm in Peripatus and a few other forms can be clearly observed surrounding the blastopore. This relationship is maintained in adults of Peripatus, some Mollusks, and some Nemertines, where the main lateral nerve cords connect behind the anus as well as in front of the mouth. In other forms, this can’t always be demonstrated, but it can be inferred, as in the case of Vertebrata previously mentioned; however, in Invertebrate groups, the part of the nerve rudiment that needs to be inferred is the posterior part behind the blastopore, while in Vertebrata, it is the anterior part in front of the blastopore, assuming that the mouth derives from the blastopore.
In the Echinodermata, Enteropneusta and one or two other groups, it is not possible, in the present state of knowledge, to bring the mouth into relation with the blastopore, nor can the blastopore be shown to be a perforation of the neural surface. For the Echinoderms, at any rate, this fact loses some of the importance which might at first sight be attributed to it when the remarkable organization of the adult and the sharp contrast which exists between it and the larva is remembered. In some Annelids the central nervous system remains throughout life as part of the outer epidermis, but as a general rule it becomes separated from the epidermis and embedded in the mesodermal tissues. The mode in which this separation is effected varies according to the form and structure of the central nervous system. In the Vertebrata, in which this organ has the form of a tube extending along the dorsal surface of the body, it arises as a groove of the medullary plate, which becomes constricted into a canal. The wall of this canal consists of ectoderm, which at an earlier stage formed part of the outer surface of the body, but which after invagination thickens, to give rise to the epithelial lining of the canal and to the nervous tissue which forms the bulk of the canal wall. The fact that the blastopore remains open at the hind end of the medullary plate explains to a certain extent the peculiar relation which always exists in the embryo between the hind end of the neural and alimentary canals. This communication between the hind end of the neural tube and the gut is one of the most remarkable and constant features of the Vertebrate embryo. As has been pointed out, it is not altogether unintelligible when we remember the relation of the blastopore to the medullary plate of the earlier stage, but to give a complete explanation of it is, and probably always will be, impossible. It is no doubt the impress of some remarkable larval condition of the blastopore of a stage of evolution now long past.
In the Echinodermata, Enteropneusta, and a couple of other groups, it's currently impossible to connect the mouth with the blastopore, nor can we show that the blastopore is a perforation of the neural surface. For the Echinoderms specifically, this fact loses some of the significance it might initially seem to have when you consider the impressive structure of the adult and the stark contrast with the larva. In some Annelids, the central nervous system remains part of the outer epidermis throughout life, but generally, it separates from the epidermis and becomes embedded in the mesodermal tissues. The way this separation occurs varies based on the form and structure of the central nervous system. In Vertebrates, where this organ takes the shape of a tube running along the dorsal side of the body, it starts as a groove in the medullary plate that eventually constricts into a canal. The wall of this canal is made up of ectoderm, which at an earlier stage was part of the body's outer surface, but after invagination, it thickens to form the epithelial lining of the canal and the nervous tissue that makes up most of the canal wall. The fact that the blastopore remains open at the back end of the medullary plate helps explain the unusual relationship that always exists in the embryo between the back ends of the neural and digestive tracts. This connection between the back end of the neural tube and the gut is one of the most incredible and consistent features of the Vertebrate embryo. As noted, it's not entirely incomprehensible when we consider the relationship of the blastopore to the medullary plate in earlier stages, but providing a complete explanation is, and likely always will be, impossible. It is undoubtedly a remnant of some remarkable larval state of the blastopore from a stage of evolution that is now long gone.
In Ceratodus the open part of the blastopore is enclosed by the medullary folds, as in Lepidosiren, and probably persists as the anus, the portion of the folds around the anus undergoing atrophy (Semon, Zool. Forschungsreisen in Australien, 1893, Bd. i. p. 39). In Urodeles the blastopore persists as anus, so far as is known, but the relation to the medullary folds has not been noticed. The same may be said of Petromyzon (A.E. Shipley, Quart. Journ. Mic. Sci. xxviii., 1887).
In Ceratodus, the open part of the blastopore is surrounded by the medullary folds, just like in Lepidosiren, and it likely remains as the anus, while the section of the folds around the anus shrinks (Semon, Zool. Forschungsreisen in Australien, 1893, Bd. i. p. 39). In Urodeles, the blastopore is known to stay as the anus, but its connection to the medullary folds hasn't been observed. The same can be said for Petromyzon (A.E. Shipley, Quart. Journ. Mic. Sci. xxviii., 1887).
The nerve tube of the Vertebrata at a certain early stage of the embryo becomes bent ventralwards in its anterior portion, in such a manner that the anterior end, which is represented in the adult by the infundibulum, comes to project Cranial flexure. backwards beneath the mid-brain. This bend, which is called the cranial flexure, takes place through the mid-brain, so that the hind-brain is unaffected by it. The cranial flexure is not, however, confined to the brain: the anterior end of the notochord, which at first extends almost to the front end of the nerve tube (this extension, which is quite obvious in the young embryo of Elasmobranchs, becomes masked in the later stages by the extraordinary modifications which the parts undergo), is also affected by it. Moreover, it affects even other parts, as may be seen by the oblique, almost antero-posterior, direction of the anterior gill slits as compared with the transverse direction of those behind. No satisfactory explanation has ever been offered of the cranial flexure. It is found in all Vertebrates, and is effected at an early stage of the development. In the later stages and in the adult it ceases to be noticeable, on account of an alteration of the relative sizes of parts of the brain. This is due almost entirely to the enormous growth of the cerebral vesicle, which is an outgrowth of the dorsal wall of the fore-brain just short of its anterior end. The anterior end of the fore-brain remains relatively small throughout life as the infundibulum, and the junction of this part of the fore-brain with the part which is so largely developed, as the rudiment of the cerebrum, is marked by the attachment of the optic chiasma. The optic nerve, indeed, is morphologically the first cranial nerve, the olfactory being the second; both are attached to what is morphologically the dorsal side of the nerve tube. The morphological anterior end of the central nerve tube is the point of the infundibulum which is in contact with the pituitary body. While on the subject of the cranial flexure, it may be pointed out that there is a similar downward curve of the hind end of the nervous axis, which leads into the hind end of the enteron. If it be supposed that originally there was a communication between the infundibulum and pituitary body, then the ventral flexure found at both ends of the nerve axis would originally have had the same result, namely, of placing the neural and alimentary canals in communication. Moreover, the mouth would have had much the same relation to this imaginary anterior neurenteric canal that the anus has to the actual posterior one.
The nerve tube of vertebrates at a certain early stage of the embryo bends downwards at the front end, creating a projection that corresponds to the infundibulum in adults, which extends backwards beneath the mid-brain. This bend, known as the cranial flexure, occurs through the mid-brain and doesn’t affect the hind-brain. The cranial flexure also influences other structures, as indicated by the angled position of the anterior gill slits compared to the horizontal alignment of those behind. There hasn't been a satisfying explanation for the cranial flexure, which is observed in all vertebrates at an early developmental stage. In later stages and in adults, it becomes less noticeable due to changes in the relative sizes of brain parts, primarily because of the significant growth of the cerebral vesicle, an outgrowth from the dorsal wall of the fore-brain before its front end. Throughout life, the fore-brain's anterior end remains relatively small as the infundibulum, and the connection between this part and the much larger developed section, which becomes the cerebrum, is marked by where the optic chiasma attaches. The optic nerve is actually the first cranial nerve morphologically, with the olfactory nerve being second; both connect to what is the dorsal side of the nerve tube. The anterior end of the central nerve tube is where the infundibulum touches the pituitary gland. While discussing the cranial flexure, it's notable that there is also a similar downward curve at the hind end of the nervous axis, leading into the hind end of the enteron. If we consider that there was originally a connection between the infundibulum and the pituitary gland, then the ventral flexure at both ends of the nerve axis would have initially resulted in the neural and digestive canals being connected. Additionally, the mouth would have had a similar relationship to this hypothetical anterior neurenteric canal as the anus does to the existing posterior one.
In Amphioxus and the Tunicata the early development of the central nervous system is very much like that of the Vertebrata, but the later stages are simpler, being without the cranial flexure. The Tunicata are remarkable for the fact that the nervous system, though at first hollow, becomes quite solid in the adult. In Balanoglossus the central nervous system is in part tubular, the canal being open at each end. It arises, however, by delamination from the ectoderm, the tube being a secondary acquisition. This is probably due to a shortening of development, for the same feature is found in some Vertebrata (Teleostei, Lepidosteus, &c.), where the central canal is secondarily hollowed out in the solid keel-like mass which is separated from the ectoderm. Parts of the central nervous system arise by invagination in other groups; for instance, the cerebral ganglia of Dentalium are formed from the walls of two invaginations of ectoderm, which eventually disappear at the anterior end of the body (A. Kowalevsky, Ann. Mus. Hist. Nat. Marseilles, “Zoology,” vol. i.). In Peripatus the cerebral ganglia arise in a similar way, but in this case the cavities of the invagination become separated from the skin and persist as two hollow appendages on the lower side of the cerebral ganglia. In other Arthropods the cerebral ganglia arise in a similar way, but the invaginations disappear in the adult. In Nemertines the cerebral ganglia contain a cavity which communicates with the exterior by a narrow canal. Finally, in certain Echinodermata the ventral part of the central nervous system arises by the invagination of a linear streak of ectoderm, the cavity of the invagination persisting as the epineural canal.
In Amphioxus and the Tunicates, the early development of the central nervous system is very similar to that of Vertebrates, but the later stages are simpler, lacking the cranial flexure. The Tunicates are notable because their nervous system, which starts out hollow, becomes completely solid in adulthood. In Balanoglossus, the central nervous system is partially tubular, with the canal open at both ends. It develops from the ectoderm through a process called delamination, making it a secondary feature. This is likely due to a shorter developmental process, as a similar characteristic is found in some Vertebrates (Teleostei, Lepidosteus, etc.), where the central canal is later hollowed out in the solid, keel-like structure that is distinct from the ectoderm. Parts of the central nervous system form through invagination in other groups; for example, the cerebral ganglia of Dentalium develop from the walls of two invaginations of ectoderm, which eventually disappear at the front end of the body (A. Kowalevsky, Ann. Mus. Hist. Nat. Marseilles, “Zoology,” vol. i.). In Peripatus, the cerebral ganglia form similarly, but in this case, the cavities from the invagination separate from the skin and remain as two hollow appendages on the underside of the cerebral ganglia. In other Arthropods, the cerebral ganglia arise in a similar fashion, but the invaginations are lost in the adult. In Nemertines, the cerebral ganglia have a cavity that connects to the exterior through a narrow canal. Lastly, in certain Echinoderms, the ventral part of the central nervous system develops through the invagination of a linear strip of ectoderm, with the cavity of the invagination remaining as the epineural canal.
Although the central nervous system is almost always developed from the ectoderm of the embryo, the same cannot be said of the peripheral nerve trunks. These structures arise from the mesoblastic reticulum already described Peripheral nervous system. (Sedgwick, Quart. Journ. Mic. Sci. xxxvii. 92). Inasmuch as this reticulum is perfectly continuous with the precisely similar though denser tissue in the ectoderm and endoderm, it may well be that a portion of the nerve trunks should be described as being ectodermal and endodermal in origin, though the bulk of them are undoubtedly formed from that portion of the reticulum commonly described as mesoblastic. But, however that may be, the tissue from which the great nerve trunks are developed is continuous on all sides with a similar tissue which pervades all the organs of the body, and in which the nuclei of these organs are contained.
Although the central nervous system typically develops from the ectoderm of the embryo, the same isn't true for the peripheral nerve trunks. These structures come from the mesoblastic reticulum mentioned earlier. Peripheral nervous system. (Sedgwick, Quart. Journ. Mic. Sci. xxxvii. 92). Since this reticulum is entirely continuous with the similar but denser tissue found in the ectoderm and endoderm, it's possible that part of the nerve trunks could be considered ectodermal and endodermal in origin, even though most of them clearly arise from the part of the reticulum usually called mesoblastic. Regardless, the tissue that forms the major nerve trunks is connected on all sides to a similar tissue that runs throughout all the organs of the body, within which the nuclei of these organs are located.
In the early stages of development this tissue is very sparse and not easily seen. It would appear, indeed, that it is of a very delicate texture and readily destroyed by reagents. It is for this reason that the layers of the Vertebrate embryo are commonly represented as being quite isolated from one another, and that the medullary canal is nearly always represented as being completely isolated at certain stages from the surrounding tissues. In reality the layers are all connected together by this delicate tissue—in a sparse form, it is true—which not only extends between them, but also in a denser and more distinct form pervades them. In the germinal layers themselves, and in the organs developing from them, this tissue is in the young stages almost entirely obscured by the densely packed nuclei which it contains. For instance, in the wall of the medullary canal in the Vertebrate embryo, in the splanchnic and somatic layers of mesoderm of the same embryo, and in the developing nerve cords of the Peripatus embryo, the nuclei are at first so densely crowded together that it is almost impossible to see the protoplasmic framework in which they rest, but as development proceeds this extra-nuclear tissue becomes more largely developed, and the nuclei are forced apart, so that it becomes visible and receives various names according to its position. In the wall of the medullary canal of the Vertebrate embryo, on the outside of which it becomes especially conspicuous in certain places, and on the dorsal side of the developing nerve cords of the Peripatus embryo, it constitutes the white matter of the developing nerve cord; in the mesoblastic tissue outside, where it at the same time becomes more conspicuous (Sedgwick, “Monograph of the Development of Peripatus capensis,” Studies from the Morph. Lab. of the University of Cambridge, iv., 1889, p. 131), it forms the looser network of the mesoblastic reticulum; and connecting the two, in place of the few and delicate strands of this tissue of the former stage, there are at certain places well-marked cords of a relatively dense texture, with the meshes of the reticulum elongated 321 in the direction of the cord. This latter structure is an incipient nerve trunk. It can be traced outwards into the mesoblastic reticulum, from the strands of which it is indeed developed, and with which it is continuous not only at its free end, but also along its whole course. In this way the nerve trunks are developed—by a gathering up, so to speak, of the fibres of the reticulum into bundles. These bundles are generally marked by the possession of nuclei, especially in their cortical parts, which become no doubt the nuclei of the nerve sheath, and, in the neighbourhood of the ganglia, of nerve cells. From this account of the early development of the nerves, it is apparent that they are in their origin continuous with all the other tissues of the body, with that of the central nervous system and with that which becomes transformed into muscular tissue and connective and epithelial tissues. All these tissues are developed from the general reticulum, which in the young embryo can be seen to pervade the whole body, not being confined to the mesoderm, but extending between the nuclei of the ectoderm and endoderm, and forming the extra-nuclear, so-called cellular, protoplasm of those layers. Moreover, it must be remarked that in the stages of the embryo with which we are here concerned the so-called cellular constitution of the tissues, which is such a marked feature of the older embryo and adult, has not been arrived at. It is true, indications of it may be seen in some of the earlier-formed epithelia, but of nerve cells, muscular cells, and many kinds of gland cells no distinct signs are yet visible. This remark particularly applies to nerve cells, which do not make their appearance until a much later stage—not, indeed, until some time after the principal nerve trunks and ganglia are indicated as tracts of pale fibrous substance and aggregations of nuclei respectively.
In the early stages of development, this tissue is quite sparse and hard to see. It seems to have a very delicate texture and is easily destroyed by reagents. That's why the layers of the vertebrate embryo are often shown as being completely separate from each other, and the medullary canal is almost always depicted as being fully isolated from the surrounding tissues at certain stages. In reality, all the layers are connected by this delicate tissue—in a sparse form, it's true—but it not only extends between them but also more densely fills them. In the germinal layers themselves, and in the organs that develop from them, this tissue is almost entirely hidden by the densely packed nuclei it contains. For example, in the wall of the medullary canal of the vertebrate embryo, in the splanchnic and somatic layers of mesoderm of the same embryo, and in the developing nerve cords of the Peripatus embryo, the nuclei are initially so tightly packed together that it is nearly impossible to see the protoplasmic framework they rest in. However, as development progresses, this extra-nuclear tissue becomes more developed and the nuclei are pushed apart, making it visible and giving it various names based on its location. In the wall of the medullary canal of the vertebrate embryo, where it becomes especially prominent in certain areas, and on the dorsal side of the developing nerve cords of the Peripatus embryo, it forms the white matter of the developing nerve cord; in the mesoblastic tissue outside, where it also becomes more noticeable (Sedgwick, “Monograph of the Development of Peripatus capensis,” Studies from the Morph. Lab. of the University of Cambridge, iv., 1889, p. 131), it makes up the looser network of the mesoblastic reticulum. Connecting the two, instead of the few delicate strands of this tissue from the previous stage, there are now well-defined cords of relatively dense texture in certain areas, with the meshes of the reticulum elongated in the direction of the cord. This structure is an early nerve trunk. It can be traced outward into the mesoblastic reticulum, from which it indeed develops, and it remains continuous not only at its free end but along its entire length. In this way, nerve trunks develop—by essentially gathering the fibers of the reticulum into bundles. These bundles typically feature nuclei, especially in their outer parts, which likely become the nuclei of the nerve sheath and, near the ganglia, of nerve cells. From this overview of the early development of the nerves, it is clear that they are initially continuous with all other tissues of the body, including that of the central nervous system as well as those that will turn into muscular, connective, and epithelial tissues. All these tissues arise from the general reticulum, which in the young embryo can be seen filling the whole body, not limited to the mesoderm but extending between the nuclei of the ectoderm and endoderm, forming the extra-nuclear, so-called cellular, protoplasm of those layers. Additionally, it should be noted that in the embryo stages we are discussing, the so-called cellular structure of the tissues, which is a prominent characteristic of older embryos and adults, has not developed yet. While some early forms of epithelia may show signs of it, distinct nerve cells, muscle cells, and various gland cells are not yet visible. This observation particularly applies to nerve cells, which do not appear until a much later stage—specifically, not until some time after the main nerve trunks and ganglia are indicated as pale fibrous tracts and collections of nuclei, respectively.
The embryos of Elasmobranchs—particularly of Scyllium—are the best objects in which to study the development of nerves. In many embryos it is difficult to make out what happens, because the various parts of the body remain so close together that the process is obscured, and the loosening of the mesoblastic nuclei is deferred until after the nerves have begun to be differentiated. The process may also be traced in the embryos of Peripatus, where the main features are essentially similar to those above described (op. cit. p. 131). The development of the motor nerves has been worked out in Lepidosiren by J. Graham Kerr (Trans. Roy. Soc. of Edinburgh, 41, 1904. p. 119).
The embryos of Elasmobranchs—especially those of Scyllium—are the best subjects for studying nerve development. In many embryos, it's hard to see what happens, because the various parts of the body are so close together that the process gets obscured, and the separation of the mesoblastic nuclei happens only after the nerves have started to differentiate. This process can also be observed in the embryos of Peripatus, where the main features are essentially similar to what has been described above (op. cit. p. 131). The development of the motor nerves has been detailed in Lepidosiren by J. Graham Kerr (Trans. Roy. Soc. of Edinburgh, 41, 1904. p. 119).
To sum up, the development of nerves is not, as has been recently urged, an outgrowth of cell processes from certain cells, but is a differentiation of a substance which was already in position, and from which all other organs of the body have been and are developed. It frequently happens that the young nerve tracts can be seen sooner near the central organ than elsewhere, but it is doubtful if any importance can be attached to this fact, since it is not constantly observed. For instance, in the case of the third nerve of Scyllium the differentiation appears to take place earliest near the ciliary ganglion, and to proceed from that point to the base of the mid-brain.
To sum up, the development of nerves isn't, as has been recently suggested, an extension of cell processes from certain cells, but rather a specialization of a substance that was already in place, from which all other organs of the body have developed and continue to develop. It's common to see young nerve tracts appearing sooner near the central organ than in other areas, but it's unclear if this is significant since it’s not consistently observed. For example, in the case of the third nerve of Scyllium, the differentiation seems to occur first near the ciliary ganglion and then spreads from there to the base of the mid-brain.
There are two main methods in which new organs are developed. In the one, which indicates the possibility of physiological continuity, the organ arises by the direct modification of a portion of a pre-existing organ; Coelom. the development of the central nervous system of the Vertebrata from a groove in the embryonic ectoderm may be taken as an example of this method. In the other method there is no continuity which can be in any way interpreted as physiological; a centre of growth appears in one of the parts of the embryo, and gives rise to a mass of tissue which gradually shapes itself into the required organ. The development of the central nervous system in Teleosteans and in other similar exceptional cases may be mentioned as an example of the second plan. Such a centre of growth is frequently called a blastema, and consists of a mass of closely packed nuclei which have arisen by the growth-activity of the nuclei in the neighbourhood. The coelom, an organ which is found in the so-called coelomate animals, and which in the adult is usually divided up more or less completely into three parts, namely, body-cavity, renal organs, generative glands, presents in different animals both these methods of development. In certain animals it develops by the direct modification of a part of the primitive enteron, while in others it arises by the gradual shaping of a mass of tissue which consists of a compact mass of nuclei derived by nuclear proliferation from one or more of the pre-existing tissues of the body. Inasmuch as the first rudiment of the coelom nearly always makes its appearance at an early stage, when the ectoderm and endoderm are almost the only tissues present, and as it then bulks relatively very large and frequently contains within itself the potential centres of growth of other organs, e.g. mesenchymal organs (see above), it has come to be regarded by embryologists as being the forerunner of all the so-called mesodermal organs of the body, and has been dignified with the somewhat mysterious rank which attaches to the conception of a germinal layer. Its prominence and importance at an early stage led embryologists, as has already been explained, to overlook the fact that although some of the centres of growth for the formation of other non-coelomic mesodermal organs and tissues may be contained within it, all are not so contained, and that there are centres of mesodermal growth still left in the ectoderm and endoderm after its establishment. If these considerations, and others like them, are correct, it would seem to follow that the conception implied by the word mesoderm has no objective existence, that the tissue of the embryo called mesoderm, though sometimes mainly the rudiment of the coelom, is often much more than this, and contains within itself the rudiment of many, sometimes of all, of the organs appertaining to the mesenchyme. In thus containing within itself the potential centres of growth of other organs and tissues which are commonly ranked as mesodermal, it is not different from the rudiments of the two other organs already formed, namely, the ectoderm and endoderm; for these contain within themselves centres of growth for the production of so-called mesodermal tissues, as witness the nerve-crest of Vertebrata, the growing-point of the pronephric duct, and the formation of blood-vessels from the hypoblast described for some members of the same group.
There are two main ways in which new organs develop. In the first method, which suggests physiological continuity, an organ forms through the direct modification of a part of an existing organ; for example, the development of the central nervous system in vertebrates from a groove in the embryonic ectoderm illustrates this method. In the second method, there is no continuity that can be seen as physiological; a center of growth emerges in one part of the embryo and creates a mass of tissue that gradually forms the needed organ. The development of the central nervous system in teleosts and similar exceptional cases serves as an example of this second approach. This center of growth is often referred to as a blastema, consisting of a cluster of closely packed nuclei that arise from the growth activities of nearby nuclei. The coelom, an organ found in so-called coelomate animals, is generally divided into three parts in adults: the body cavity, renal organs, and reproductive glands, and exhibits both methods of development in different animals. In some species, it develops through the direct modification of a part of the primitive enteron, while in others, it arises from the gradual shaping of a tissue mass formed by nuclear proliferation from one or more existing body tissues. Since the initial rudiment of the coelom usually appears early, when ectoderm and endoderm are among the few tissues present, and is relatively large and often contains potential centers for the growth of other organs, such as mesenchymal organs (see above), embryologists have seen it as the precursor of all so-called mesodermal organs in the body. This recognition has granted it a somewhat mysterious status associated with the idea of a germinal layer. Its importance at an early stage led embryologists to overlook the fact that while some centers for forming non-coelomic mesodermal organs and tissues may exist within it, not all are contained there, and that there are mesodermal growth centers still present in the ectoderm and endoderm after the coelom has formed. If these and similar observations are accurate, it seems to imply that the concept of mesoderm lacks objective existence; the tissue referred to as mesoderm, although sometimes primarily the rudiment of the coelom, often encompasses much more and may include the rudiments of many, sometimes all, organs related to mesenchyme. In containing potential centers for the growth of other organs and tissues commonly classified as mesodermal, it mirrors the rudiments of the ectoderm and endoderm; those also contain centers for producing so-called mesodermal tissues, as seen in the nerve-crest of vertebrates, the growing point of the pronephric duct, and the formation of blood vessels from the hypoblast observed in some members of the same group.
In Echinodermata, Amphioxus, Enteropneusta, and a few other groups, the coelom develops from a portion or portions of the primitive enteron, which eventually becomes separated from the rest and forms a variable number of closed sacs lying between the gut and the ectoderm. The number of these sacs varies in different animals, but the evidence at present available seems to show that the maximum number is five—an unpaired one in front and two pairs behind—and, further, that if a less number of sacs is actually separated from the enteron, the rule is for these sacs so to divide up that they give rise to five sacs arranged in the manner indicated. The Enteropneusta present us with the clearest case of the separation of five sacs from the primitive enteron (W. Bateson, Quart. Journ. Mic. Sci. xxiv., 1884). In Amphioxus, according to the important researches of E.W. MacBride (Quart. Journ. Mic. Sci. xl. 589), it appears that a similar process occurs, though it is complicated by the fact that the sacs of the posterior pair become divided up at an early stage into many pairs. In Phoronis there are indications of the same phenomenon (A.T. Masterman, Quart. Journ. Mic. Sci. xliii. 375). In the Chaetognatha a single sac only is separated from the enteron, but soon becomes divided up. In the Brachiopoda one pair of sacs is separated from the enteron, but our knowledge of their later history is not sufficient to enable us to say whether they divide up into the typically arranged five sacs. In Echinodermata the number of sacs separated from the enteron varies from one to three; but though the history of these shows considerable differences, there are reasons to believe that the typical final arrangement is one unpaired and two paired sacs. But however many sacs may arise from the primitive enteron, and however these sacs may ultimately divide up and arrange themselves, the important point of development common to all these animals, about which there can be no dispute, is that the coelom is a direct differentiation of a portion of the enteron.
In Echinodermata, Amphioxus, Enteropneusta, and a few other groups, the coelom forms from part of the primitive enteron, which eventually separates from the rest and creates a varying number of closed sacs that lie between the gut and the ectoderm. The number of these sacs differs among different animals, but current evidence suggests that the maximum is five—one unpaired in the front and two pairs behind. Furthermore, if fewer sacs actually separate from the enteron, the tendency is for these sacs to divide in such a way that they result in five sacs arranged as described. The Enteropneusta provides the clearest example of five sacs separating from the primitive enteron (W. Bateson, Quart. Journ. Mic. Sci. xxiv., 1884). In Amphioxus, according to the significant research of E.W. MacBride (Quart. Journ. Mic. Sci. xl. 589), a similar process appears to take place, though it's complicated by the fact that the sacs in the posterior pair divide early into multiple pairs. Phoronis also shows signs of the same phenomenon (A.T. Masterman, Quart. Journ. Mic. Sci. xliii. 375). In the Chaetognatha, only one sac separates from the enteron but soon splits into more. In the Brachiopoda, one pair of sacs is separated from the enteron, but we don't know enough about their later development to say if they divide into the typically arranged five sacs. In Echinodermata, the number of sacs separated from the enteron ranges from one to three; however, despite considerable differences in their development, there are reasons to believe the typical final arrangement is one unpaired and two paired sacs. Regardless of how many sacs originate from the primitive enteron, and how these sacs eventually divide and arrange themselves, the crucial developmental point shared by all these animals, which is not open to debate, is that the coelom is a direct differentiation of a portion of the enteron.
In the majority of the Coelomata the coelomic rudiment does not arise by the simple differentiation of a pre-existing organ, and there is considerable variation in its method of formation. Speaking generally, it may be said to arise by the differentiation of a blastema (see above), which develops at an early stage as a nuclear proliferation from one or more growth-centres in one or both of the primary layers. It appears in this tissue as a sac or as a series of sacs, which become transformed into the body-cavity (except in the Arthropoda), into the renal organs (with the possible exception, again, of some Arthropoda), and into the reproductive glands. In metamerically segmented animals the 322 appearance of the cavities of these sacs is synchronous with, and indeed determines, the appearance of metameric segmentation. In all segmented animals in which the mesoderm (coelomic rudiment) appears as a continuous sheet or band of tissue on each side of the body, the coelomic cavity makes its first appearance not as a continuous space on each side, which later becomes divided up into the structures called mesoblastic somites, but as a series of paired spaces round which the coelomic tissue arranges itself in an epithelial manner. In the Vertebrata, it is true, the ventral portion of the coelom appears at first as a continuous space, at any rate behind the region of the two anterior pairs of somites, but in the dorsal portion the coelomic cavity is developed in the usual way, the coelomic tissue becoming transformed into the muscle plates and rudimentary renal tubules of the later stages. With regard to this ventral portion of the coelom in Vertebrata, it is to be noticed that the cavity in it never becomes divided up, but always remains continuous, forming the perivisceral portion of the coelom. The probable explanation of this peculiarity in the development of the Vertebrate coelom, as compared with that of Amphioxus and other segmented animals, is that the segmented stage of the ventral portion of the coelom is omitted. This explanation derives some support from the fact that even in animals in which the coelom is at its first appearance wholly segmented, it frequently happens that in the adult the perivisceral portion of it is unsegmented, i.e. it loses during development the segmentation which it at first possesses. This happens in many Annelida and in Amphioxus. The lesson, then, which the early history of the coelom in segmented animals teaches is, that however the coelomic cavity first makes its appearance, whether by evaginations from the primitive enteron, or by the hollowing out of a solid blastema-like tissue which has developed from one or both of the primary layers, it is in its first origin segmented, and forms the basis on which the segments of the adult are moulded. In Arthropoda the origin of the coelom is similar to that of Annelids, but its history is not completely known in any group, with the exception of Peripatus. In this genus it develops no perivisceral portion, as in other groups, but gives rise solely to the nephridia and to the reproductive organs. It is probable, though not certainly proved, that the history of the coelom in other Arthropods is essentially similar to that of Peripatus, allowance being made for the fact that the nephridial portion does not attain full development in those forms which are without nephridia in the adult.
In most Coelomata, the coelomic rudiment doesn't form simply by differentiating a pre-existing organ, and there's a lot of variation in how it develops. Generally, it can be said to arise from the differentiation of a blastema (see above), which develops early on as a nuclear proliferation from one or more growth centers in one or both of the primary layers. It appears in this tissue as a sac or a series of sacs, which transform into the body cavity (except in Arthropoda), into the renal organs (with possible exceptions in some Arthropoda), and into the reproductive glands. In animals with segmented bodies, the formation of these sac cavities occurs simultaneously with metameric segmentation, which actually influences the development of this segmentation. In all segmented animals where the mesoderm (coelomic rudiment) presents as a continuous sheet or band of tissue on each side of the body, the coelomic cavity initially forms not as continuous space on each side that later becomes divided into mesoblastic somites, but as a series of paired spaces that the coelomic tissue arranges itself around in a tissue-like manner. In Vertebrata, the ventral part of the coelom does initially appear as a continuous space, at least behind the region of the two anterior pairs of somites. However, in the dorsal part, the coelomic cavity develops in the usual manner, with coelomic tissue transforming into muscle plates and early-stage renal tubules. Regarding the ventral part of the coelom in Vertebrata, it’s important to note that this cavity never gets divided but remains continuous, forming the perivisceral part of the coelom. The likely explanation for this development of the Vertebrate coelom, compared to that of *Amphioxus* and other segmented animals, is that the segmented stage of the ventral coelom is skipped. This explanation is somewhat supported by the observation that in some animals where the coelom first appears completely segmented, it often turns out unsegmented in adults, meaning it loses its initial segmentation during development. This happens in many Annelida and in *Amphioxus*. The lesson from the early development of the coelom in segmented animals is that, regardless of whether the coelomic cavity first appears through evaginations from the primitive enteron or through the hollowing out of a solid blastema-like tissue developed from one or both primary layers, it is segmented at its origin and sets the foundation for the adult segments. In Arthropoda, the coelom's origin is similar to that of Annelids, but its history isn't fully known in any group, except for *Peripatus*. In this genus, it does not develop a perivisceral portion like in other groups, contributing only to the nephridia and reproductive organs. It’s likely, though not definitively proven, that the coelom's history in other Arthropods is essentially similar to that of *Peripatus*, with the understanding that the nephridial section does not fully develop in forms lacking nephridia in adulthood.
With regard to the development of the vascular system, little can be said here, except that it appears to arise from the spaces of the mesoblastic reticulum. When this reticulum is sparse or so delicate as to give way in manipulation, these spaces appear to be represented by a continuous space which in the earliest stages of development is frequently spoken of as the blastocoel or segmentation cavity. They acquire special epithelial walls, and form the main trunks and network of smaller vessels found in animals with a canalicular vascular system, or the large sinus-like spaces characteristic of animals with a haemocoelic body-cavity.
Regarding the development of the vascular system, not much can be said here, except that it seems to come from the spaces in the mesoblastic reticulum. When this reticulum is sparse or so delicate that it gives way when handled, these spaces appear to be represented by a continuous area that, in the earliest stages of development, is often referred to as the blastocoel or segmentation cavity. They develop special epithelial walls and form the main trunks and networks of smaller vessels found in animals with a canalicular vascular system, or the large sinus-like spaces typical of animals with a haemocoelic body cavity.
The existence of a phase at the beginning of life during which a young animal acquires its equipment by a process of growth of the germ is of course intelligible enough; such a phase is seen in the formation of buds, and in the Transient embryonic organs. sexual reproduction of both animals and plants. The remarkable point is that while in most cases this embryonic growth is a direct and simple process—e.g. animal and plant buds, embryonic development of plant seeds—in many cases of sexual reproduction of animals it is not direct, and the embryonic phase shows stages of structure which seem to possess a meaning other than that of being merely phases of growth. The fact that these stages of structure through which the embryo passes sometimes present for a short time features which are permanent in other members of the same group, adds very largely to the interest of the phenomenon and necessitates its careful examination. This may be divided into two heads: (1) in relation to embryos, (2) in relation to larvae. So far as embryos are concerned, we shall limit ourselves mainly to a consideration of the Vertebrata, because in them are found most instances of that remarkable phenomenon, the temporary assumption by certain organs of the embryo of stages of structure which are permanent in other members of the same group. As is well known, the embryos of the higher Vertebrata possess in the structure of the pharynx and of the heart and vascular system certain features—namely, paired pharyngeal apertures, a simple tubular heart, and a single ventral aorta giving off right and left a number of branches which pass between the pharyngeal apertures—which permanently characterize those organs in fishes. The skeleton, largely bony in the adult, passes through a stage in which it is entirely without bone, and consists mainly of cartilage—the form which it permanently possesses in certain fishes. Further, the Vertebrate embryo possesses for a time a notochord, a segmented muscular system, a continuity between the pericardium and the posterior part of the perivisceral cavity—all features which characterize certain groups of Pisces in the adult state. Instances of this kind might be multiplied, for the work of anatomists and embryologists has of late years been largely devoted to adding to them. Examples of embryonic characters which are not found in the adults of other Vertebrates are the following:—At a certain stage of development the central nervous system has the form of a groove in the skin, there is a communication at the hind end of the body between the neural and alimentary canals, the mouth aperture has at first the form of an elongated slit, the growing end of the Wolffian duct is in some groups continuous with the ectoderm, and the retina is at one stage a portion of the wall of the medullary canal. In the embryos of the lower Vertebrates many other instances of the same interesting character might be mentioned; for instance, the presence of a coelomic sac close to the eye, of another in the jaw, and of a third near the ear (Elasmobranchs), the opening of the Müllerian duct into the front end of the Wolffian duct, and the presence of an aperture of communication between the muscle-plate coelom and the nephridial coelom.
The early stage of life when a young animal develops its features through growth from the germ is pretty clear; we can observe this in the creation of buds and in the Temporary embryonic organs. sexual reproduction of animals and plants. The interesting part is that, while embryonic growth is usually a straightforward process—like the buds of plants and animals or the development of plant seeds—in many sexual reproduction cases in animals, it's not straightforward, and the embryonic phase shows structures that seem to have significance beyond just being growth stages. The fact that these structural stages in the embryo sometimes briefly display features that are permanent in other members of the same group makes this phenomenon even more fascinating and requires careful study. This can be divided into two categories: (1) concerning embryos, (2) concerning larvae. When it comes to embryos, we'll mainly focus on Vertebrates because they exhibit the most examples of that intriguing phenomenon, where certain organs of the embryo temporarily assume stages of structure that are permanent in other members of the same group. It’s well-known that the embryos of higher Vertebrates have certain features in their pharynx, heart, and vascular system—specifically, paired pharyngeal openings, a simple tubular heart, and a single ventral aorta with branches extending between the pharyngeal openings—that permanently characterize those organs in fish. The skeleton, primarily bony in adults, first exists without any bone and is mostly made of cartilage—the form it permanently takes in certain fish. Additionally, the Vertebrate embryo temporarily has a notochord, a segmented muscular system, and a link between the pericardium and the back part of the perivisceral cavity—all features that define certain fish groups in adulthood. Examples of this nature could go on, as anatomists and embryologists have increasingly focused on them in recent years. Instances of embryonic characteristics not found in the adults of other Vertebrates include: at one development stage, the central nervous system appears as a groove in the skin, there’s a connection at the back end of the body between the neural and digestive systems, the mouth initially looks like an elongated slit, the growing end of the Wolffian duct connects with the ectoderm in some groups, and the retina at one point is part of the wall of the medullary canal. In the embryos of lower Vertebrates, many other examples of this intriguing nature could be noted; for instance, the presence of a coelomic sac near the eye, another in the jaw, and a third near the ear (Elasmobranchs), the opening of the Müllerian duct into the front of the Wolffian duct, and the presence of a communication opening between the muscle-plate coelom and the nephridial coelom.
The interest attaching to these remarkable facts is much increased by the explanation which has been given of them. That explanation, which is a deduction from the theory of evolution, is to the effect that the peculiar embryonic structures and relations just mentioned are due to the retention by the embryo of features which, once possessed by the adult ancestor, have been lost in the course of evolution. This explanation, which at once suggests itself when we are dealing with structures Recapitulation theory. actually present in adult members of other groups, does not so obviously apply to those features which are found in no adult animal whatsoever. Nevertheless it has been extended to them, because they are of a nature which it is not impossible to suppose might have existed in a working animal. Now this explanation, which, it will be observed, can only be entertained on the assumption that the evolution theory is true, has been still further extended by embryologists in a remarkable and frequently unjustifiable manner, and has been applied to all embryonic processes, finally leading to the so-called recapitulation theory, which asserts that embryonic history is a shortened recapitulation of ancestral history, or, to use the language of modern zoology, that the ontogeny or development of the individual contains an abbreviated record of the phylogeny or development of the race. A theory so important and far-reaching as this requires very careful examination. When we come to look for the facts upon which it is based, we find that they are non-existent, for the ancestors of all living animals are dead, and we have no means of knowing what they were like. It is true there are fossil remains of animals which have lived, but these are so imperfect as to be practically useless for the present requirements. Moreover, if they were perfectly preserved, there would be no evidence to show that they were ancestors of the animals now living. They might have been animals which have become extinct and left no descendants. Thus the explanation ordinarily given of the embryonic structures referred to is purely a deduction from the evolution theory. Indeed, it is even less than this, for all that can be said is 323 something of this kind: if the evolution theory is true, then it in conceivable that the reason why the embryo of a bird passes through a stage in which its pharynx presents some resemblance to that of a fish is that a remote ancestor of the bird possessed a pharynx with lateral apertures such as are at present found in fishes.
The interest in these remarkable facts is greatly heightened by the explanation that's been provided for them. This explanation, based on the theory of evolution, suggests that the unique embryonic structures and relations mentioned earlier are due to the embryo retaining features once found in its adult ancestor but lost throughout evolution. This explanation makes sense when we look at structures present in adult members of other groups, but it doesn’t obviously apply to features found in no adult animal. Still, it has been extended to those features because it's not impossible to think they might have existed in a functioning animal. This explanation, which we will note can only be considered if the theory of evolution is true, has been further elaborated by embryologists in a notable and often questionable way, extending it to all embryonic processes, culminating in the so-called recapitulation theory. This theory claims that embryonic history is a shortened version of ancestral history, or, in modern zoology terms, that the ontogeny or development of the individual includes a condensed record of the phylogeny or development of the species. A theory as significant and far-reaching as this demands thorough investigation. When we look for the facts supporting it, we discover they're nonexistent, as all living animal ancestors are extinct, and we have no way of knowing what they were like. While there are fossil remains of past animals, these are incomplete and practically useless for current needs. Furthermore, even if they were perfectly preserved, there would be no evidence that they were the ancestors of today's animals; they could simply be species that went extinct with no descendants. Thus, the usual explanation for the embryonic structures mentioned is purely a deduction from the evolution theory. In fact, it's even less than that; all that can be said is something like this: if the evolution theory is true, then it is conceivable that the reason why a bird's embryo goes through a stage where its pharynx looks somewhat like a fish's is that a distant ancestor of the bird had a pharynx with side openings like those found in fish.
But the explanation is sometimes pushed even further, and it is said that these pharyngeal apertures of the ancestral bird had the same respiratory function as the corresponding structures in modern fishes. That this is going too far a little reflection will show. For if it be admitted that all so-called vestigial structures had once the same function as the homologous structures when fully developed in other animals, it becomes necessary to admit that male mammals must once have had fully developed mammary glands and suckled the young, that female mammals formerly were provided with a functional penis, and that in species in which the females have a trace of the secondary sexual characters of the male the latter were once common to both sexes. The second and more extended form of the explanation plainly introduces a considerable amount of contentious matter, and it will be advisable, in the first instance, at any rate, to confine ourselves to a critical examination of the less ambitious conception. This explanation obviously implies the view that in the course of evolution the tendency has been for structures to persist in the embryo after they have been lost in the adult. Is there any justification for this view? It is clearly impossible to get any direct evidence, because, as explained above, we have no knowledge of the ancestors of living animals; but if we assume the evolution theory to be true, there is a certain amount of indirect evidence which is distinctly opposed to the view. As is well known, living birds are without teeth, but it is generally assumed that their edentulous condition has been comparatively recently acquired, and that they are descended from animals which, at a time not very remote from the present, possessed teeth. Considering the resemblance of birds to other terrestrial vertebrates, and the fact that extinct birds, not greatly differing from birds now living, are known to have had teeth, it must be allowed that there is some warrant for the assumption. Yet in no single case has it been certainly shown that any trace of teeth has been developed in the embryo. The same remark applies to a large number of similar cases; for instance, the reduced digits of the bird’s hand and foot and the limbs of snakes. Moreover, organs which are supposed to have become recently reduced and functionless in the adult are also reduced in the embryo; for instance, digits 3 and 4 of the horse’s foot, the hind limbs of whales (G.A. Guldberg and F. Nansen, “On the Development and Structure of Whales,” Bergen Museum, 1894), the spiracle of Elasmobranchii. In fact, considerations of this kind distinctly point to the view that any tendency to the reduction or enlargement of an organ in the adult is shared approximately to the same extent by the embryo. But there are undoubtedly some, though not many, cases in which organs which were presumably present in an ancestral adult have persisted in the embryo of the modern form. As an instance may be mentioned the presence in whale-bone whales of imperfectly formed teeth, which are absorbed comparatively early in foetal life (Julin, Arch. biologie, i., 1880, p. 75).
But sometimes the explanation goes even further, suggesting that the throat openings of the ancestral bird served the same breathing purpose as similar structures in modern fish. A little thought will reveal that this is an overreach. If we accept that all so-called vestigial structures once had the same function as the fully developed homologous structures in other animals, we must also acknowledge that male mammals must have once had fully developed mammary glands to nurse their young, that female mammals used to have functional penises, and that in species where females show traces of male secondary sexual characteristics, these traits were once present in both sexes. This broader version of the explanation clearly brings in a lot of controversial ideas, so it would be wise to start with a critical examination of the simpler concept. This explanation seems to suggest that during evolution, structures have remained in the embryo after disappearing in the adult. Is there any basis for this idea? We can't gather any direct evidence, as we know very little about the ancestors of current animals; however, if we accept the evolution theory as true, there is some indirect evidence that contradicts this idea. For instance, it's well-known that modern birds don't have teeth, but it's generally believed their toothless state was acquired fairly recently, and that they evolved from ancestors that had teeth not long ago. Given the similarities between birds and other land vertebrates, and the fact that extinct birds similar to today’s birds are known to have had teeth, there’s some justification for this assumption. Yet, in no case has it been definitively shown that any trace of teeth develops in the embryo. The same can be said for many similar cases, such as the reduced digits in a bird's hands and feet and in snake limbs. Additionally, organs thought to have been reduced and rendered functionless in adults are also diminished in embryos; for example, the third and fourth digits of a horse’s foot, the hind limbs of whales (G.A. Guldberg and F. Nansen, “On the Development and Structure of Whales,” Bergen Museum, 1894), and the spiracle of Elasmobranchii. In fact, such considerations suggest that any trend toward reducing or enlarging an organ in adults happens to a similar degree in embryos. However, there are some, though not many, cases where organs that were likely present in an ancestral adult continue to exist in the embryos of modern forms. An example of this is the presence of underdeveloped teeth in baleen whales, which are absorbed early in fetal development (Julin, Arch. biologie, i., 1880, p. 75).
It therefore becomes necessary to inquire why in some cases an organ is retained by the embryo after its loss by the adult, whereas in other cases it dwindles and presumably disappears simultaneously in the embryo and the adult. The whole question is examined and discussed by the present writer in the Quarterly Journal of Microscopical Science, xxxvi., 1894, p. 35, and the conclusions there reached are as follows:—A disappearing adult organ is not retained in a relatively greater development by an organism in the earlier stages of its individual growth unless it is of functional importance to the young form. In cases in which the whole development is embryonic this rarely happens, because the conditions of embryonic life are so different from free life that functional embryonic organs are usually organs sui generis, e.g. the placenta, amnion, &c., which cannot be traced to a modification of organs previously present in the adult. It does, however, appear to have happened sometimes, and as an instance of it may be mentioned the ductus arteriosus of the Sauropsidan and Mammalian embryo. On the other hand, when there is a considerable period of larval life, it does appear that there is a strong case for thinking that organs which have been lost by the adult may be retained and made use of by the larva. The best-known example that can be given of this is the tadpole of the frog. Here we find organs, viz. gills and gill-slits, which are universally regarded as having been attributes of all terrestrial Vertebrata in an earlier and aquatic condition, and we also notice that their retention is due to their being useful on account of the supposed ancient conditions of life having been retained. Many other instances, more or less plausible, of a like retention of ancestral features by larvae might be mentioned, and it must be conceded that there are strong reasons for supposing that larvae often retain traces, more or less complete, of ancestral stages of structure. But this admission does not carry with it any obligation to accept the widely prevalent view that larval history can in any way be regarded as a recapitulation of ancestral history. Far from it, for larvae in retaining some ancestral features are in no way different from adults; they only differ from adults in the features which they have retained. Both larvae and adults retain ancestral features, and both have been modified by an adaptation to their respective conditions of life which has ever been becoming more perfect.
It’s necessary to explore why, in some cases, an organ is kept by the embryo after it disappears in the adult, while in other instances, it shrinks and apparently vanishes simultaneously in both the embryo and the adult. This entire question is examined and discussed by the author in the Quarterly Journal of Microscopical Science, xxxvi., 1894, p. 35, and the conclusions reached are as follows:—An adult organ that disappears isn't retained to a greater extent in an organism during its early development unless it's functionally important to the young form. In cases where development is entirely embryonic, this rarely occurs because the conditions of embryonic life differ significantly from those of free life, leading to functional embryonic organs usually being unique, such as the placenta, amnion, etc., which can’t be traced back to modifications of organs that were present in the adult. However, it has happened at times, with the ductus arteriosus of Sauropsidan and Mammalian embryos cited as an example. On the flip side, when there's a significant larval life period, it seems likely that organs lost in adults can be retained and utilized by the larva. The most well-known example is the tadpole of the frog, where we find organs like gills and gill-slits, which are generally accepted as having been features of all terrestrial Vertebrates in an earlier aquatic stage, retaining them because they are beneficial due to the assumed earlier life conditions. There are many other instances, more or less plausible, of similar retention of ancestral traits by larvae, and it must be acknowledged that there are strong reasons to believe that larvae often keep traces, either fully or partially, of ancestral structural stages. However, this acknowledgment doesn't require acceptance of the common belief that larval history can be seen as a recapitulation of ancestral history. Quite the opposite—larvae retaining some ancestral traits are not different from adults; they only differ in the traits they have kept. Both larvae and adults retain ancestral features, and both have been modified by adaptations to their respective living conditions that have continually improved over time.
The conclusion, then, has been reached, that whereas larvae frequently retain traces of ancestral stages of adult structure, embryos will rarely do so; and we are confronted again with the question, How are we to account for the presence in the embryo of numerous functionless organs which cannot be explained otherwise than as having been inherited from a previous condition in which they were functional? The answer is that the only organs of this kind which have been retained are organs which have been retained by the larvae of the ancestors after they have been lost by the adult, and have become in this way impressed upon the development. As an illustration taken from current natural history of the manner in which larval characters are in actual process of becoming embryonic may be mentioned the case of the viviparous salamander (Salamander atra), in which the gills, &c., are all developed but never used, the animal being born without them. In other and closely allied species of salamander there is a considerable period of larval life in which the gills and gill-slits are functional, but in this species the larval stage, for the existence of which there was a distinct reason, viz. the entirely aquatic habits of life in the young state, has become at one stroke embryonic by its simple absorption into the embryonic period. The view, then, that embryonic development is essentially a recapitulation of ancestral history must be given up; it contains only a few references to ancestral history, namely, those which have been preserved probably in a much modified form by previous larvae.
The conclusion we reach is that while larvae often show remnants of their ancestors' adult structures, embryos rarely do. This brings us back to the question of how we can explain the presence of many non-functional organs in embryos that seem to have been inherited from a stage when they were functional. The answer is that the only organs of this type that have been preserved are those that larvae of ancestors still retain after adults have lost them, imprinting these traits on development. A current example of how larval traits are becoming embryonic is found in the viviparous salamander (Salamander atra), where the gills and other structures are developed but never used, as the animal is born without them. In other closely related salamander species, there is a significant period during the larval stage when the gills and gill slits function, but in this species, that larval stage, which existed for a specific reason—namely, the fully aquatic lifestyle of the young—has directly transitioned into the embryonic stage. Therefore, the idea that embryonic development is mainly a reflection of ancestral history should be abandoned; it only includes a few references to that history, which have likely been preserved in a much-altered form by previous larvae.
We must now pass to the consideration of another supposed law of embryology—the so-called law of v. Baer. This generalization is usually stated as follows:—Embryos of different species of the same group are more alike than Law of v. Baer. adults, and the resemblances are greater the younger the embryo examined. Great importance has been attached to this generalization by embryologists and naturalists, and it is very widely accepted. Nevertheless, it is open to serious criticism. If it were true, we should expect to find that embryos of closely similar species would be indistinguishable, but this is notoriously not the case. On the contrary, they often differ more than do the adults, in support of which statement the embryos of the different species of Peripatus may be referred to. The generalization undoubtedly had its origin in the fact that there is what may be called a family resemblance between embryos, but this resemblance, which is by no means exact, is purely superficial, and does not extend to anatomical detail. On the contrary, it may be fairly argued that in some cases embryos of widely dissimilar members of the same group present anatomical differences of a higher morphological value than do the adults (see Sedgwick, loc. cit.), and, as stated above the 324 embryos of closely allied animals are distinguishable at all stages of development, though the distinguishing features are not the same as those which distinguish the adults. To say that the development of the organism and of its component parts is a progress from the simple to the complex is to state a truism, but to state that it is also a progress from the general to the special is to go altogether beyond the facts. The bipinnaria larva of an echinoderm, the trochosphere larva of an annelid, the blastodermic vesicle of a mammal are all as highly specialized as their respective adults, but the specialization is for a different purpose, and of a different kind to that which characterizes the adult.
We need to move on to discussing another supposed law of embryology—the so-called law of v. Baer. This generalization is usually stated like this: Embryos of different species within the same group are more similar to each other than to the adults, and the similarities are greater the younger the embryo being examined. This generalization has been taken very seriously by embryologists and naturalists and is widely accepted. However, it has some significant criticisms. If it were true, we would expect that embryos of closely related species would be indistinguishable, but this is famously not the case. In fact, they often differ more than the adults do, as seen in the embryos of different species of Peripatus. The generalization likely originated from the observation that there is what could be called a family resemblance between embryos, but this resemblance, which is not exact, is purely superficial and doesn't extend to anatomical details. On the contrary, it can be argued that in some instances, embryos of very different members of the same group show anatomical differences of greater morphological significance than the adults do (see Sedgwick, loc. cit.), and, as mentioned earlier, the embryos of closely related animals can be distinguished at all stages of development, although the distinguishing characteristics are not the same as those that differentiate the adults. To claim that the development of the organism and its parts progresses from simple to complex is an obvious truth, but to state that it also progresses from general to specific goes well beyond the facts. The bipinnaria larva of an echinoderm, the trochosphere larva of an annelid, and the blastodermic vesicle of a mammal are all as highly specialized as their respective adults, but the specialization serves a different purpose and is of a different kind than what characterizes the adult.
In its scientific and systematic form embryology may be considered as having only taken birth within the last century, although the germ from which it sprung was already formed nearly half a century earlier. The ancients, History of embryology. it is true, as we see by the writings of Aristotle and Galen, pursued the subject with interest, and the indefatigable Greek naturalist and philosopher had even made continued series of observations on the progressive stages of development in the incubated egg, and on the reproduction of various animals; but although, after the revival of learning, various anatomists and physiologists from time to time made contributions to the knowledge of the foetal structure in its larger organs, yet from the minuteness of the observations required for embryological research, it was not till the microscope came into use for the investigation of organic structure that any intimate knowledge was attained of the nature of organogenesis. It is not to be wondered at, therefore, that during a long period, in this as in other branches of physical inquiry, vague speculations took the place of direct observation and more solid information. This is apparent in most of the works treating of generation during the 16th and part of the 17th centuries.2
In its scientific and systematic form, embryology is considered to have truly emerged in the last century, although its roots were established nearly fifty years earlier. It's true that ancient thinkers, as shown in the writings of Aristotle and Galen, explored the topic with interest. The dedicated Greek naturalist and philosopher even conducted a series of observations on the developmental stages of the incubated egg and the reproduction of various animals. However, even though various anatomists and physiologists made contributions to our understanding of larger fetal structures after the revival of learning, it wasn't until the microscope was used to investigate organic structures that we gained a deeper understanding of organogenesis. Therefore, it's not surprising that for a long time, vague speculations replaced direct observation and solid information in this and other fields of physical inquiry. This is evident in many works on generation during the 16th and part of the 17th centuries.2
Harvey was the first to give, in the middle of the latter century, a new life and direction to investigation of this subject, by his discovery of the connexion between the cicatricula of the yolk and the rudiments of the chick, and by his faithful description of the successive stages of development as observed in the incubated egg, as well as of the progress of gestation in some Mammalia. He had also the merit of fixing the attention of physiologists upon general laws of development as deduced from actual observation of the phenomena, by the enunciation of two important propositions, viz.—(1) that all animals are produced out of ova, and (2) that the organs of the embryo arise by new formation, or epigenesis, and not by mere enlargement out of a pre-existing invisible condition (Exercitationes de generatione animalium, Amstelodami, 1651). Harvey’s observations, however, were aided only by the use of magnifying glasses (perspecillae), probably of no great power, and he saw nothing of the earliest appearances of the embryo in the first thirty-six hours, and believed the blood and the heart to be the parts first formed.
Harvey was the first to breathe new life into the study of this subject in the mid-twentieth century by discovering the connection between the yolk's cicatricula and the chick's rudiments. He also provided detailed descriptions of the various stages of development observed in incubated eggs, as well as the progression of gestation in some mammals. He played a crucial role in focusing physiologists' attention on general laws of development derived from actual observations of phenomena by stating two important propositions: (1) that all animals come from eggs, and (2) that an embryo's organs arise through new formation, or epigenesis, instead of simply enlarging from a pre-existing invisible state (Exercitationes de generatione animalium, Amstelodami, 1651). However, Harvey's observations relied only on magnifying glasses (perspecillae), which were probably not very powerful. He didn't see the earliest signs of the embryo within the first thirty-six hours and believed that the blood and heart were the first parts to be formed.
The influence of the work of Harvey, and of the successful application of the microscope to embryological investigation, was soon afterwards apparent in the admirable researches of Malpighi of Bologna, as evinced by his communications to the Royal Society of London in 1672, “De ovo incubato,” and “De formatione pulli,” and more especially in his delineations of some of the earlier phenomena of development, in which, as in many other parts of minute anatomy, he partially or wholly anticipated discoveries, the full development of which has only been accomplished in the present century. Malpighi traced the origin of the embryo almost to its very commencement in the formation of the cerebro-spinal groove within the cicatricula, which he removed from the opaque mass of the yolk; and he only erred in supposing the embryonal rudiments to have pre-existed as such in the egg, in consequence, apparently, of his having employed for observation, in very warm weather, eggs which, though he believed them to be unincubated, had in reality undergone some of the earlier developmental changes.
The impact of Harvey's work, along with the successful use of the microscope in embryology, quickly became clear in the remarkable studies of Malpighi from Bologna. This was demonstrated in his communications to the Royal Society of London in 1672, “De ovo incubato” and “De formatione pulli.” His detailed descriptions of some of the early developmental phenomena partially or completely anticipated discoveries that have only been fully developed in this century. Malpighi traced the origin of the embryo almost back to the very beginning, identifying the formation of the cerebro-spinal groove within the cicatricula, which he separated from the dense yolk. His only mistake was assuming that the embryonic rudiments had existed in the egg before, likely because he observed the eggs during very warm weather. Although he thought they were unincubated, they had actually already begun some of the early developmental changes.
The works of Walter Needham (1667), Regnier de Graaf (1673), Swammerdam (1685), Vallisneri (1689)—following upon those of Harvey—all contain important contributions to the knowledge of our subject, as tending to show the similarity in the mode of production from ova in a variety of animals with that previously best known in birds. The observations more especially of de Graaf, Nicolas Steno and J. van Horne gave much greater precision to the knowledge of the connexion between the origin of the ovum of quadrupeds and the vesicles of the ovary now termed Graafian, which de Graaf showed always burst and discharged their contents on the occurrence of pregnancy.
The works of Walter Needham (1667), Regnier de Graaf (1673), Swammerdam (1685), and Vallisneri (1689)—building on Harvey's earlier work—include significant insights into our topic, illustrating the similarities in how ova are produced in different animals compared to what was already known about birds. The research, particularly by de Graaf, Nicolas Steno, and J. van Horne, greatly refined our understanding of the relationship between the beginnings of the ovum in mammals and the ovarian vesicles now known as Graafian follicles, which de Graaf demonstrated always rupture and release their contents when pregnancy occurs.
These observations bring us to the period of Boerhaave and Albinus in the earlier part of the 18th century, and in the succeeding years to that of Haller, whose vast erudition and varied and accurate original observations threw light upon the entire process of reproduction in animals, and brought its history into a more systematic and intelligible form. A considerable part of the seventh and the whole of the eighth volumes of Haller’s great work, the Elementa physiologiae, published at successive times from 1757 to 1766, are occupied with the general view of the function of generation, while his special contributions to embryology are contained in his Deux mémoires sur la formation du cœur dans le poulet and Deux mémoires sur la formation des os, both published at Lausanne in 1758, and republished in an extended and altered form, together with his “Observations on the early condition of the Embryo in Quadrupeds,” made along with Kühlemann, in the Opera minora (1762-1768). Though originally educated as a believer in the doctrine of “preformation” by his teacher Boerhaave, Haller was soon led to abandon that view in favour of “epigenesis” or new formation, as may be seen in various parts of his works published before the middle of the century; see especially a long note explanatory of the grounds of his change of opinion in his edition of Boerhaave’s Praelectiones academicae, vol. v. part 2, p. 497 (1744), and his Primae lineae physiologiae (1747). But some years later, and after having been engaged in observing the phenomena of development in the incubated egg, he again changed his views, and during the remainder of his life was a keen opponent of the system of epigenesis, and a defender and exponent of the theory of “evolution,” as it was then named—a theory very different from that now bearing the name, and which implied belief in the pre-existence of the organs of the embryo in the germ, according to the theory of encasement (emboîtement) or inclusion supported by Leibnitz and Bonnet. (See the interesting work of Bonnet, Considérations sur les corps organisés, Amsterdam, 1762, for an account of his own views and those of Haller.)
These observations lead us to the time of Boerhaave and Albinus in the early 18th century, and then to Haller in the following years, whose extensive knowledge and diverse, precise original observations illuminated the entire process of reproduction in animals, presenting its history in a more organized and understandable way. A significant portion of the seventh volume and all of the eighth volume of Haller’s major work, the Elementa physiologiae, published over the years from 1757 to 1766, focus on the overall function of generation, while his specific contributions to embryology are found in his Deux mémoires sur la formation du cœur dans le poulet and Deux mémoires sur la formation des os, both published in Lausanne in 1758, and later republished in an expanded and revised version, along with his “Observations on the early condition of the Embryo in Quadrupeds,” made with Kühlemann, in the Opera minora (1762-1768). Although Haller was initially trained as a supporter of the "preformation" doctrine by his teacher Boerhaave, he soon shifted to support "epigenesis" or new formation, as seen in various parts of his works published before the middle of the century; particularly notable is a lengthy note explaining the reasons for his shift in his edition of Boerhaave’s Praelectiones academicae, vol. v. part 2, p. 497 (1744), and his Primae lineae physiologiae (1747). However, a few years later, after observing the development phenomena in the incubated egg, he changed his views once more, becoming a strong opponent of the epigenesis system for the rest of his life, while defending and explaining the theory of “evolution,” as it was termed—very different from the modern understanding of evolution—and which suggested that the organs of the embryo pre-existed in the germ, according to the theory of encasement (emboîtement) or inclusion, advocated by Leibnitz and Bonnet. (For an overview of his own views and those of Haller, see Bonnet's engaging work, Considérations sur les corps organisés, Amsterdam, 1762.)
It was reserved for Caspar Frederick Wolff (1733-1794), a German by birth, but naturalized afterwards in Russia, to bring forward observations which, though almost entirely neglected for a long time after their publication, and in some measure discredited under the influence of Haller’s authority, were sixty years later acknowledged to have established the theory of epigenesis upon the secure basis of ascertained facts, and to have laid the first foundation of the morphological science of embryology. Wolff’s work, entitled Theoria generationis, first published as an inaugural Dissertation at Berlin in 1759, was republished with additions in German at Berlin in 1764, and again in Latin at Halle in 1774. Wolff also wrote a “Memoir on 325 the Development of the Intestine” in Nov. comment. acad. Petropol., 1768 and 1769. But it was not till the latter work was translated into German by J.F. Meckel, and appeared in his Archiv for 1812, that Wolff’s peculiar merits as the founder of modern embryology came to be known or fully appreciated.
It was Caspar Frederick Wolff (1733-1794), a German by birth who later became a naturalized citizen of Russia, who made observations that, although largely ignored for many years after they were published and somewhat discredited due to Haller’s influence, were recognized sixty years later as having established the theory of epigenesis on a solid foundation of verified facts and laid the groundwork for the morphological science of embryology. Wolff’s work, titled Theoria generationis, was first published as an inaugural dissertation in Berlin in 1759, then republished with additions in German in Berlin in 1764, and again in Latin in Halle in 1774. Wolff also wrote a “Memoir on the Development of the Intestine” published in Nov. comment. acad. Petropol in 1768 and 1769. However, it wasn't until this latter work was translated into German by J.F. Meckel and appeared in his Archiv in 1812 that Wolff’s unique contributions as the founder of modern embryology were recognized and appreciated.
The special novelty of Wolff’s discoveries consisted mainly in this, that he showed that the germinal part of the bird’s egg forms a layer of united granules or organized particles (cells of the modern histologist), presenting at first no semblance of the form or structure of the future embryo, but gradually converted by various morphological changes in the formative material, which are all capable of being traced by observation, into the several rudimentary organs and systems of the embryo. The earlier form of the embryo he delineated with accuracy; the actual mode of formation he traced in more than one organ, as for example in the alimentary canal, and he was the discoverer of several new and important embryological facts, as in the instance of the primordial kidneys, which have thus been named the Wolffian bodies. Wolff further showed that the growing parts of plants owe their origin to organized particles or cells, so that he was led to the great generalization that the processes of embryonic formation and of adult growth and nutrition are all of a like nature in both plants and animals. No advance, however, was made upon the basis of Wolff’s discoveries till the year 1817, when the researches of C.H. Pander on the development of the chick gave a fuller and more exact view of the phenomena less clearly indicated by Wolff, and laid down with greater precision a plan of the formation of parts in the embryo of birds, which may be regarded as the foundation of the views of all subsequent embryologists.
The unique aspect of Wolff’s discoveries was that he demonstrated that the germinal part of a bird’s egg forms a layer of connected granules or organized particles (now known as cells), initially showing no resemblance to the future embryo's form or structure. However, through various morphological changes in the developing material—which can all be tracked by observation—it gradually transforms into the different basic organs and systems of the embryo. He accurately outlined the early form of the embryo and traced the actual formation in more than one organ, such as the digestive tract. He also discovered several new and significant embryological facts, such as the primordial kidneys, which are now called the Wolffian bodies. Wolff further showed that the growing parts of plants originate from organized particles or cells, leading him to the major conclusion that the processes of embryonic development and adult growth and nutrition are essentially similar in both plants and animals. However, no progress was made on the foundation of Wolff’s discoveries until 1817, when C.H. Pander's research on chick development provided a clearer and more accurate understanding of the phenomena that Wolff had only partially indicated, establishing a more precise plan for the formation of parts in bird embryos, which can be seen as the groundwork for the theories of all subsequent embryologists.
But although the minuter investigation of the nature and true theory of the process of embryonic development was thus held in abeyance for more than half a century, the interval was not unproductive of observations having an important bearing on the knowledge of the anatomy of the foetus and the function of reproduction. The great work of William Hunter on the human gravid uterus, containing unequalled pictorial illustrations of its subject from the pencil of Rymsdyk and other artists, was published in 1775;3 and during a large part of the same period numerous communications to the Memoirs of the Royal Society testified to the activity and genius of his brother, John Hunter, in the investigation of various parts of comparative embryology. But it is mainly in his rich museum, and in the manuscripts and drawings which he left, and which have been in part described and published in the catalogue of his wonderful collection, that we obtain any adequate idea of the unexampled industry and wide scope of research of that great anatomist and physiologist.
But even though the detailed study of embryonic development was paused for over fifty years, that time wasn’t wasted; it produced important observations about fetal anatomy and reproduction. William Hunter's groundbreaking work on the human pregnant uterus, featuring unmatched illustrations by Rymsdyk and other artists, was published in 1775; 3 and during much of that same period, many submissions to the Memoirs of the Royal Society highlighted the activity and brilliance of his brother, John Hunter, in exploring various aspects of comparative embryology. However, we primarily gain a comprehensive understanding of that great anatomist and physiologist's extraordinary work ethic and broad research through his extensive museum and the manuscripts and drawings he left behind, some of which have been partially described and published in the catalog of his remarkable collection.
As belonging to a somewhat later period, but still before the time when the more strict investigation of embryological phenomena was resumed by Pander, there fall to be noticed, as indicative of the rapid progress that was making, the experiments of L. Spallanzani, 1789; the researches of J.H. von Autenrieth, 1797, and of Soemmering, 1799, on the human foetus; the observations of Senff on the formation of the skeleton, 1801; those of L. Oken and D.G. Kieser on the intestine and other organs, 1806; Oken’s remarkable work on the bones of the head, 1807 (with the views promulgated in which Goethe’s name is also intimately connected); J.F. Meckel’s numerous and valuable contributions to embryology and comparative anatomy, extending over a long series of years; and F. Tiedemann’s classical work on the development of the brain, 1816.
As belonging to a slightly later period, but still before the time when embryological phenomena were more rigorously studied again by Pander, we should note, as signs of the rapid progress being made, the experiments of L. Spallanzani in 1789; the research of J.H. von Autenrieth in 1797 and Soemmering in 1799 on the human fetus; the observations of Senff on skeleton formation in 1801; those of L. Oken and D.G. Kieser on the intestine and other organs in 1806; Oken’s impressive work on the bones of the head in 1807 (which is also closely linked with Goethe’s ideas); J.F. Meckel’s numerous and valuable contributions to embryology and comparative anatomy over many years; and F. Tiedemann’s classic work on brain development in 1816.
The observations of the Russian naturalist, Christian Heinrich Pander (1794-1865), were made at the instance and under the immediate supervision of Prof. Döllinger at Würzburg, and we learn from von Baer’s autobiography that he, being an early friend of Pander’s, and knowing his qualifications for the task, had pointed him out to Döllinger as well fitted to carry out the investigation of development which that professor was desirous of having accomplished. Pander’s inaugural dissertation was entitled Historia metamorphoseos quam ovum incubatum prioribus quinque diebus subit (Virceburgi, 1817); and it was also published in German under the title of Beiträge zur Entwickelungsgeschichte des Hühnchens im Eie (Würzburg, 1817). The beautiful plates illustrating the latter work were executed by the elder E.J. d’Alton, well known for his skill in scientific observation, delineation and engraving.
The observations of the Russian naturalist, Christian Heinrich Pander (1794-1865), were made at the request and under the direct supervision of Prof. Döllinger in Würzburg. We learn from von Baer’s autobiography that he, an early friend of Pander and aware of his qualifications for the task, had recommended him to Döllinger as a great fit to carry out the developmental investigation that the professor wanted to have done. Pander’s inaugural dissertation was titled Historia metamorphoseos quam ovum incubatum prioribus quinque diebus subit (Würzburg, 1817); it was also published in German under the title Beiträge zur Entwickelungsgeschichte des Hühnchens im Eie (Würzburg, 1817). The beautiful plates illustrating the latter work were created by the elder E.J. d’Alton, who was well known for his expertise in scientific observation, drawing, and engraving.
Pander observed the germinal membrane or blastoderm, as he for the first time called it, of the fowl’s egg to acquire three layers of organized substance in the earlier period of incubation. These he named respectively the serous or outer, the vascular or middle, and the mucous or inner layers; and he traced with great skill and care the origin of the principal rudimentary organs and systems from each of these layers, pointing out shortly, but much more distinctly than Wolff had done, the actual nature of the changes occurring in the process of development.
Pander examined the germinal membrane, which he referred to for the first time as the blastoderm, of the chicken egg to identify three layers of organized matter during the early stages of incubation. He named these layers the serous or outer layer, the vascular or middle layer, and the mucous or inner layer. He skillfully and carefully traced the origins of the main early organs and systems from each of these layers, highlighting, more clearly than Wolff had, the actual nature of the changes taking place during development.
Karl Ernest von Baer (q.v.), the greatest of modern embryologists, was, as already remarked, the early friend of Pander, and, at the time when the latter was engaged in his researches at Würzburg, was associated with Döllinger as prosector, and engaged with him in the study of comparative anatomy. He witnessed, therefore, though he did not actually take part in, Pander’s researches; and the latter having afterwards abandoned the inquiry, von Baer took it up for himself in the year 1819, when he had obtained an appointment in the university of Königsberg, where he was the colleague of Burdach and Rathke, both of whom were able coadjutors in the investigation of the subject of his choice. (See v. Baer’s interesting autobiography, published on his retirement from St Petersburg to Dorpat in 1864.)
Karl Ernst von Baer (q.v.), the leading modern embryologist, was, as mentioned earlier, an early friend of Pander. While Pander was conducting his research in Würzburg, von Baer worked with Döllinger as a prosector and studied comparative anatomy alongside him. Although he didn't actively participate in Pander's research, he witnessed it. After Pander eventually moved away from this line of inquiry, von Baer took it on himself in 1819 after he got a position at the University of Königsberg, where he worked with Burdach and Rathke, both of whom were valuable collaborators in his investigation. (See von Baer’s fascinating autobiography, published after he retired from St. Petersburg to Dorpat in 1864.)
Von Baer’s observations were carried on at various times from 1819 to 1826 and 1827, when he published the first results in a description of the development of the chick in the first edition of Burdach’s Physiology.
Von Baer’s observations took place at different times from 1819 to 1826 and 1827, when he published the initial results in a description of chick development in the first edition of Burdach’s Physiology.
It was at this time that von Baer made the important discovery of the ovarian ovum of mammals and of man, totally unknown before his time, and was thus able to prove as matter of exact observation what had only been surmised previously, viz. the entire similarity in the mode of origin of these animals with others lower in the scale. (Epistola de ovi mammalium et hominis genesi, Lipsiae, 1827. See also the interesting commentary on or supplement to the Epistola in Heusinger’s Journal, and the translation in Breschet’s Répertoire, Paris, 1829.)
It was during this time that von Baer made the significant discovery of the ovarian egg of mammals and humans, something that was completely unknown before him. He was able to demonstrate as a matter of precise observation what had only been speculated before: that these animals share the same method of origin as those lower on the evolutionary scale. (Epistola de ovi mammalium et hominis genesi, Lipsiae, 1827. See also the interesting commentary on or supplement to the Epistola in Heusinger’s Journal, and the translation in Breschet’s Répertoire, Paris, 1829.)
In 1829 von Baer published the first part of his great work, entitled Beobachtungen und Reflexionen über die Entwickelungsgeschichte der Thiere, the second part of which, still leaving the work incomplete, did not appear till 1838. In this work, distinguished by the fulness, richness and extreme accuracy of the observations and descriptions, as well as by the breadth and soundness of the general views on embryology and allied branches of biology which it presents, he gave a detailed account not only of the whole progress of development of the chick as observed day by day during the incubation of the egg, but he also described what was known, and what he himself had investigated by numerous and varied observations, of the whole course of formation of the young in other vertebrate animals. His work is in fact a system of comparative embryology, replete with new discoveries in almost every part.
In 1829, von Baer published the first part of his major work, titled Beobachtungen und Reflexionen über die Entwickelungsgeschichte der Thiere. The second part, which still left the work incomplete, didn't come out until 1838. This work is notable for its thoroughness, richness, and exceptional accuracy in observations and descriptions, as well as for its comprehensive and solid insights on embryology and related fields of biology. He provided a detailed account of the complete developmental process of the chick, observed day by day during egg incubation, and also described what was known and what he had investigated through numerous varied observations about the formation of the young in other vertebrate animals. His work essentially serves as a system of comparative embryology, full of new discoveries in nearly every section.
Von Baer’s account of the layers of the blastoderm differs somewhat from that of Pander, and appears to be more consistent with the further researches which have lately been made than was at one time supposed, in this respect, that he distinguished from a very early period two primitive or fundamental layers, viz. the animal or upper, and the vegetative or lower, from each of which, in connexion with two intermediate layers derived from them, the fundamental organs and systems of the embryo are derived:—the animal layer, with its derivative, supplying the dermal, neural, osseous and muscular; the vegetative layer, with its derivative, the vascular and mucous (intestinal) systems. He laid down the general morphological 326 principle that the fundamental organs have essentially the shape of tubular cavities, as appears in the first form of the central organ of the nervous system, in the two muscular and osseous tubes which form the walls of the body, and in the intestinal canal; and he followed out with admirable clearness the steps by which from these fundamental systems the other organs arise secondarily, such as the organs of sense, the glands, lungs, heart, vascular glands, Wolffian bodies, kidneys and generative organs.
Von Baer's description of the layers of the blastoderm varies slightly from Pander's, and seems to align better with recent research than was previously thought. He identified two basic layers from a very early stage: the animal or upper layer, and the vegetative or lower layer. From these layers, along with two intermediate layers that develop from them, the essential organs and systems of the embryo emerge. The animal layer, along with its derivative, provides the dermal, neural, skeletal, and muscular systems, while the vegetative layer and its derivative create the vascular and intestinal (mucous) systems. He established the general morphological principle that fundamental organs typically take the shape of tubular cavities, as seen in the initial form of the central nervous system, in the two muscular and skeletal tubes that form the body's walls, and in the intestinal canal. He clearly outlined the process by which these fundamental systems give rise to other organs later on, including the sense organs, glands, lungs, heart, vascular glands, Wolffian bodies, kidneys, and reproductive organs.
To complete von Baer’s system there was mainly wanting a more minute knowledge of the intimate structure of the elementary tissues, but this had not yet been acquired by biologists, and it remained for Theodor Schwann of Liége in 1839, along with whom should be mentioned those who, like Robert Brown and M.J. Schleiden, prepared the way for his great discovery, to point out the uniformity in histological structure of the simpler forms of plants and animals, the nature of the organized animal and vegetable cell, the cellular constitution of the primitive ovum of animals, and the derivation of the various tissues, complex as well as simple, from the transformation or, as it is now called, differentiation of simple cellular elements,—discoveries which have exercised a powerful and lasting influence on the whole progress of biological knowledge in our time, and have contributed in an eminent degree to promote the advance of embryology itself.
To complete von Baer’s system, a deeper understanding of the intricate structure of elementary tissues was mainly needed, but biologists had not yet acquired this knowledge. It was Theodor Schwann from Liége in 1839, along with others like Robert Brown and M.J. Schleiden, who laid the groundwork for his significant discovery. Schwann pointed out the consistency in the histological structure of simpler forms of plants and animals, the nature of organized animal and plant cells, the cellular structure of the primitive ovum in animals, and how various tissues, both complex and simple, arise from the transformation or, as we now say, differentiation of simple cellular elements. These discoveries have had a profound and lasting impact on the advancement of biological knowledge in our time and greatly facilitated the progress of embryology itself.
To K.B. Reichert of Berlin more particularly is due the first application of the newer histological views to the explanation of the phenomena of development, 1840. To him and to R.A. von Kölliker and R. Virchow is due the ascertainment of the general principle that there is no free-cell formation in embryonic development and growth, but that all organs are derived from the multiplication, combination and transformation of cells, and that all cells giving rise to organs are the descendants or progeny of previously existing cells, and that these may be traced back to the original cell or cell-substance of the ovum.
To K.B. Reichert of Berlin goes the credit for the first application of modern histological ideas to explain developmental phenomena in 1840. He, along with R.A. von Kölliker and R. Virchow, established the key principle that free-cell formation does not occur in embryonic development and growth. Instead, all organs arise from the multiplication, combination, and transformation of cells, and all cells that create organs are descendants of previously existing cells, which can be traced back to the original cell or cell substance of the ovum.
It may be that modern research has somewhat modified the views taken by biologists of the statements of Schwann as to the constitution of the organized cell, especially as regards its simplest or most elementary form, and has indicated more exactly the nature of the protoplasmic material which constitutes its living basis; but it has not caused any very wide departure from the general principles enunciated by that physiologist. Schwann’s treatise, entitled Microscopical Researches into the Accordance in the Structure and Growths of Animals and Plants, was published in German at Berlin in 1839, and was translated into English by Henry Smith, and printed for the Sydenham Society in 1847, along with a translation of Schleiden’s memoir, “Contributions to Phytogenesis,” which originally appeared in 1838 in Müller’s Archiv for that year, and which had also been published in English in Taylor and Francis’s Scientific Memoirs, vol. ii. part vi.
Modern research may have somewhat changed the perspective of biologists on Schwann's ideas regarding the structure of the organized cell, particularly concerning its simplest or most basic form. It has also provided a clearer understanding of the nature of the protoplasmic material that makes up its living foundation. However, it hasn’t led to a significant shift away from the general principles laid out by that physiologist. Schwann's work, titled Microscopical Researches into the Accordance in the Structure and Growths of Animals and Plants, was published in German in Berlin in 1839 and translated into English by Henry Smith, appearing in print for the Sydenham Society in 1847. This translation was released alongside a translation of Schleiden’s essay, “Contributions to Phytogenesis,” which was first published in 1838 in Müller’s Archiv for that year, and had also been published in English in Taylor and Francis’s Scientific Memoirs, vol. ii. part vi.
Among the newer observations of the same period which contributed to a more exact knowledge of the structure of the ovum itself may be mentioned—first the discovery of the germinal vesicle, or nucleus, in the germ-disk of birds by J.E. von Purkinje (Symbolae ad ovi avium historiam ante incubationem, Vratislaviae, 1825, and republished at Leipzig in 1830); second, von Baer’s discovery of the mammiferous ovum in 1827, already referred to; third, the discovery of the germinal vesicle of mammals by J.V. Coste in 1834, and its independent observation by Wharton Jones in 1835; and fourth, the observation in the same year by Rudolph Wagner of the germinal macula or nucleus. Coste’s discovery of the germinal vesicle of Mammalia was first communicated to the public in the Comptes rendus of the French Academy for 1833, and was more fully described in the Recherches sur la génération des mammifères, by Delpech and Coste (Paris, 1834). Thomas Wharton Jones’s observations, made in the autumn of 1834, without a knowledge of Coste’s communication, were presented to the Royal Society in 1835. This discovery was also confirmed and extended by G.G. Valentin and Bernardt, as recorded by the latter in his work Symb. ad ovi mammal. hist. ante praegnationem. Rudolph Wagner’s observations first appeared in his Textbook of Comparative Anatomy, published at Leipzig in 1834-1835, and in Müller’s Archiv for the latter year. His more extended researches are described in his work Prodromus hist. generationis hominis atque animalium (Leipzig, 1836), and in a memoir inserted in the Trans. of the Roy. Bavarian Acad. of Sciences (Munich, 1837).
Among the newer observations from the same period that helped increase our understanding of the structure of the ovum itself, the following can be mentioned: first, J.E. von Purkinje's discovery of the germinal vesicle, or nucleus, in the germ-disk of birds, noted in his work Symbolae ad ovi avium historiam ante incubationem, published in Vratislavia in 1825 and republished in Leipzig in 1830; second, von Baer's discovery of the mammalian ovum in 1827, which has been previously mentioned; third, J.V. Coste's discovery of the mammal germinal vesicle in 1834, which was independently observed by Wharton Jones in 1835; and fourth, Rudolph Wagner's observation of the germinal macula or nucleus in the same year. Coste's discovery of the mammalian germinal vesicle was first shared with the public in the Comptes rendus of the French Academy for 1833 and described in greater detail in Recherches sur la génération des mammifères, by Delpech and Coste (Paris, 1834). Thomas Wharton Jones's observations, made in the fall of 1834 without knowledge of Coste's announcement, were presented to the Royal Society in 1835. This discovery was also confirmed and expanded by G.G. Valentin and Bernardt, as noted by Bernardt in his work Symb. ad ovi mammal. hist. ante praegnationem. Rudolph Wagner's observations first appeared in his Textbook of Comparative Anatomy, published in Leipzig between 1834 and 1835, and in Müller's Archiv for that same year. His more detailed research is described in his work Prodromus hist. generationis hominis atque animalium (Leipzig, 1836) and in a paper included in the Trans. of the Roy. Bavarian Acad. of Sciences (Munich, 1837).
The two decades of years from 1820 to 1840 were peculiarly fertile in contributions to the anatomy of the foetus and the progress of embryological knowledge. The researches of Prévost and Dumas on the ova and primary stages of development of Batrachia, birds and mammals, made as early as 1824, deserve especial notice as important steps in advance, both in the discovery of the process of yolk segmentation in the batrachian ovum, and in their having shown almost with the force of demonstration, previous to the discovery of the mammiferous ovarian ovum by von Baer, that that body must exist as a minute spherule in the Graafian follicle of the ovary, although they did not actually succeed in bringing the ova clearly under observation.
The two decades from 1820 to 1840 were particularly rich in contributions to our understanding of fetal anatomy and the advancement of embryological knowledge. The research conducted by Prévost and Dumas on the eggs and early developmental stages of amphibians, birds, and mammals, as early as 1824, is especially noteworthy as it marked significant progress. Their work regarding yolk segmentation in amphibian eggs and their near-demonstration, even before von Baer discovered the mammalian ovarian egg, that a tiny sphere must exist within the Graafian follicle of the ovary, is a critical point. However, they did not successfully observe the eggs directly.
The works of Pockels (1825), of Seiler (1831), of G. Breschet (1832), of A.A.L.M. Velpeau (1833), of T.L.W. Bischoff (1834)—all bearing upon human embryology; the researches of Coste in comparative embryology in 1834, already referred to, and those published by the same author in 1837; the publication of Johannes Müller’s great work on physiology, and Rudolph Wagner’s smaller text-book, in both of which the subject of embryology received a very full treatment, together with the excellent Manual of the Development of the Foetus, by Valentin, in 1835, the first separate and systematic work on the whole subject, now secured to embryology its permanent place among the biological sciences on the Continent; while in this country attention was drawn to the subject by the memoirs of Allen Thomson (1831), Th. Wharton Jones (1835-1838) and Martin Barry (1839-1840).
The works of Pockels (1825), Seiler (1831), G. Breschet (1832), A.A.L.M. Velpeau (1833), and T.L.W. Bischoff (1834)—all focused on human embryology; the studies by Coste in comparative embryology in 1834, which have already been mentioned, and those published by him in 1837; Johannes Müller’s major work on physiology, and Rudolph Wagner’s shorter textbook, where embryology was thoroughly explored, along with Valentin’s excellent Manual of the Development of the Foetus, published in 1835, the first dedicated and systematic work on the entire subject, secured embryology's permanent place among the biological sciences in Europe; while in this country, the topic was highlighted by the papers of Allen Thomson (1831), Th. Wharton Jones (1835-1838), and Martin Barry (1839-1840).
Among the more remarkable special discoveries which belong to the period now referred to, a few may be mentioned, as, for example, that of the chorda dorsalis by von Baer, a most important one, which may be regarded as the key to the whole of vertebral morphology; the phenomenon of yolk segmentation, now known to be universal among animals, but which was only first carefully observed in Batrachia by Prévost and Dumas (though previously casually noticed by Swammerdam), and was soon afterwards followed out by Rusconi and von Baer in fishes; the discovery of the branchial clefts, plates and vascular arches in the embryos of the higher abranchiate animals by H. Rathke in 1825-1827; the able investigation of the transformations of these arches by Reichert in 1837; and the researches on the origin and development of the urinary and generative organs by Johannes Müller in 1829-1830.
Among the notable discoveries from this period, a few stand out. For instance, von Baer's discovery of the notochord, which is crucial to understanding vertebrate structure. The process of yolk segmentation, which is now known to occur in all animals, was first thoroughly studied in amphibians by Prévost and Dumas (though it had been casually noted before by Swammerdam), and this was later examined in fish by Rusconi and von Baer. H. Rathke identified the branchial clefts, plates, and vascular arches in the embryos of higher non-gilled animals between 1825 and 1827. Reichert conducted an in-depth study of the changes in these arches in 1837, while Johannes Müller researched the origins and development of the urinary and reproductive organs in 1829-1830.
On entering the fifth decade of the 19th century, the number of original contributions and systematic treatises becomes so great as to render the attempt to enumerate even a selection of the more important of them quite unsuitable to the limits of the present article. We must be satisfied, therefore, with a reference to one or two which seem to stand out with greater prominence than the rest as landmarks in the progress of embryological discovery. Among these may first be mentioned the researches of Theodor L.W. von Bischoff, formerly of Giessen and later of Munich, on the development of the ovum in Mammalia, in which a series of the most laborious, minute and accurate observations furnished a greatly novel and very full history of the formative process in several animals of that class. These researches are contained in four memoirs, treating separately of the development of the rabbit, the dog, the guinea-pig and the roe-deer, and appeared in succession in the years 1842, 1845, 1852 and 1854.
As we entered the fifth decade of the 19th century, the number of original contributions and systematic studies became so extensive that even trying to list a selection of the more important ones is impractical for the scope of this article. Therefore, we will content ourselves with mentioning one or two that stand out more prominently as significant milestones in the advancement of embryological research. One notable example is the work of Theodor L.W. von Bischoff, who was initially based in Giessen and later in Munich, regarding the development of the ovum in mammals. His extensive, meticulous, and precise observations provided a fresh and comprehensive account of the developmental process in several species within that group. His findings are compiled in four papers, each focusing on the development of the rabbit, the dog, the guinea pig, and the roe deer, published in 1842, 1845, 1852, and 1854, respectively.
Next may be mentioned the great work of Coste, entitled Histoire gén. et particul. du développement des animaux, of which, however, only four fasciculi appeared between the years 1847 and 1859, leaving the work incomplete. In this work, in the large folio form, beautiful representations are given of the author’s valuable observations on human embryology, and on that of various mammals, birds and fishes, and of the author’s 327 discovery in 1847 of the process of partial yolk segmentation in the germinal disk of the fowl’s egg during its descent through the oviduct, and his observations on the same phenomenon in fishes and mammals.
Next, we can mention the great work by Coste, titled Histoire gén. et particul. du développement des animaux, of which only four volumes were published between 1847 and 1859, leaving the work incomplete. In this large folio edition, beautiful illustrations showcase the author's valuable observations on human embryology as well as that of various mammals, birds, and fish, along with the author's discovery in 1847 of the partial yolk segmentation process in the germinal disk of the hen's egg during its passage through the oviduct, and his observations of the same phenomenon in fish and mammals. 327
The development of reptiles received important elucidation from the researches of Rathke, in his history of the development of serpents, published at Königsberg in 1839, and in a similar work on the turtle in 1848, as well as in a later one on the crocodile in 1866, along with which may be associated the observations of H.J. Clark on the “Embryology of the Turtle,” published in Agassiz’s Contributions to Natural History, &c., 1857.
The study of reptile development gained significant insights from Rathke's research on snake development, published in Königsberg in 1839, along with a similar work on turtles in 1848 and another on crocodiles in 1866. This can also be linked to H.J. Clark's observations on the "Embryology of the Turtle," published in Agassiz’s Contributions to Natural History, &c., in 1857.
The phenomena of yolk segmentation, to which reference has more than once been made, and to which later researches give more and more importance in connexion with the fundamental phenomena of development, received great elucidation during this period, first from the observations of C.T.E. von Siebold and those of Bagge on the complete yolk segmentation of the egg in nematoid worms in 1841, and more fully by the observations of Kölliker in the same animals in 1843. The nature of partial segmentation of the yolk was first made known by Kölliker in his work on the development of the Cephalopoda in 1844, and, as has already been mentioned, the phenomena were observed by Coste in the eggs of birds. The latter observations have since been confirmed by those of Oellacher, Götte and Kölliker. Further researches in a vast number of animals give every reason to believe that the phenomenon of segmentation is in some shape or other the invariable precursor of embryonic formation.
The process of yolk segmentation, which has been mentioned several times and is gaining more significance in relation to the basic processes of development, was greatly clarified during this period. This began with the observations of C.T.E. von Siebold and Bagge on the complete yolk segmentation of the egg in nematoid worms in 1841, and was expanded upon by Kölliker's findings in the same species in 1843. Kölliker first revealed the nature of partial yolk segmentation in his work on Cephalopod development in 1844, and as already noted, these phenomena were observed by Coste in bird eggs. Coste's observations have since been confirmed by Oellacher, Götte, and Kölliker. Further research across a wide range of animals strongly suggests that the phenomenon of segmentation is consistently a precursor to embryonic development in some form.
The first considerable work on the development of a division of the invertebrates was that of Maurice Herold of Marburg on spiders, De generatione aranearum ex ovo, published at Marburg in 1824, in which the whole phenomena of the formative processes in that animal are described with remarkable clearness and completeness. A few years later an important series of contributions to the history of the development of invertebrate animals appeared in the second volume of Burdach’s work on Physiology, of which the first edition was published in 1828, and in this the history of the development of the Entozoa was the production of Ch. Theod. von Siebold, and that of most of the other invertebrates was compiled by H. Rathke from the results of his own observations and those of others. These memoirs, together with others subsequently published by Rathke, notably that Über die Bildung und Entwickelungsgeschichte d. Flusskrebses (Leipzig, 1829), in which an attempt is made to extend the doctrine of the derivation of the organs from the germinal layers to the invertebrata, entitle him to be regarded as the founder of invertebrate embryology.
The first significant work on the development of a division of invertebrates was by Maurice Herold from Marburg on spiders, De generatione aranearum ex ovo, published in Marburg in 1824. In this, he described the entire process of formation in these animals with impressive clarity and thoroughness. A few years later, an important series of contributions to the study of the development of invertebrate animals appeared in the second volume of Burdach’s work on Physiology, the first edition of which was published in 1828. In this volume, the development of the Entozoa was contributed by Ch. Theod. von Siebold, while the history of most other invertebrates was compiled by H. Rathke based on his own observations and those of others. These papers, along with others later published by Rathke, particularly Über die Bildung und Entwickelungsgeschichte d. Flusskrebses (Leipzig, 1829), which attempted to extend the concept of organ derivation from germinal layers to invertebrates, establish him as the founder of invertebrate embryology.
A large body of facts having by this time been ascertained with respect to the more obvious processes of development, a further attempt to refer the phenomena of organogenesis to morphological and histological principles became desirable. More especially was the need felt to point out with greater minuteness and accuracy the relation in which the origin of the fundamental organs of the embryo stands to the layers of the blastoderm; and this we find accomplished with signal success in the researches of R. Remak on the development of the chick and frog, published between the years 1850 and 1855.
A large amount of information has now been confirmed regarding the more obvious processes of development, making it necessary to further explore the relationship between organogenesis phenomena and morphological and histological principles. There was a particular need to clarify in more detail and with more precision how the formation of the fundamental organs of the embryo relates to the layers of the blastoderm. This goal was achieved with great success in the studies by R. Remak on the development of chicks and frogs, published between 1850 and 1855.
Starting from Pander’s discovery of the trilaminate blastoderm, Remak worked out the development of the chick in the light of the cell-theory of Schleiden and Schwann. He observed the division of the middle layer into two by a split which subsequently gives rise to the body-cavity (pleuro-peritoneal space) of the adult; and traced the principal organs which came from these two layers (Hautfaserblatt and Darmfaserblatt) respectively. In this manner the foundations of the germ-layer theory were established in their modern form.
Starting from Pander’s discovery of the trilaminate blastoderm, Remak studied the development of the chick using the cell theory proposed by Schleiden and Schwann. He noted how the middle layer splits into two, which later forms the body cavity (pleuro-peritoneal space) of the adult. He also mapped out the main organs that develop from these two layers (Hautfaserblatt and Darmfaserblatt) respectively. This way, the foundations of the germ-layer theory were established in their modern form.
A great step forward was made in 1859 by T.H. Huxley, who compared the serous and mucous layers of Pander with the ectoderm and endoderm of the Coelenterata. But in spite of this comparison it was generally held that germinal layers similar to those of the vertebrata were not found in invertebrate animals, and it was not until the publication in 1871 of Kowalewsky’s researches (see below) that the germinal layer theory was applied to the embryos of all the Metazoa. But the year 1859 will be for ever memorable in the history of science as the year of the publication of the Origin of Species. If the enunciation of the cell-theory may be said to have marked a first from a second period in the history of embryology, the publication of Darwin’s great idea ushered in a third. Whereas hitherto the facts of anatomy and development were loosely held together by the theory of types which owed its origin and maintenance to Cuvier, L. Agassiz, J. Müller and R. Owen, they were now combined into one organic whole by the theory of descent and by the hypothesis of recapitulation which was deduced from that theory. First clearly enunciated by Johann Müller in his well-known work Für Darwin published in 1864 (rendered in England as Facts for Darwin, 1869), the view that a knowledge of embryonic and larval histories would lay bare the secrets of race history and enable the course of evolution to be traced and so lead to the discovery of the natural system of classification, gave a powerful stimulus to embryological research. The first fruits of this impetus were gathered by Alexander Agassiz, A. Kowalewsky and E. Metschnikoff. Agassiz, in his memoir on the Embryology of the Starfish published in 1864, showed that the body-cavity in Echinodermata arises as a differentiation of the enteron of the larva and so laid the foundations of our present knowledge of the coelom. This discovery was confirmed in 1869 by Metschnikoff (“Studien üb. d. Entwick. d. Echinodermen u. Nemertinen,” Mém. Ac. Pétersbourg (7), 41, 1869), and extended by him to Tornaria, the larva of Balanoglossus in 1870 (“Untersuchungen üb. d. Metamorphose einiger Seethiere,” Zeit. f. wiss. Zoologie, 20, 1870). In 1871 Kowalewsky in his classical memoir, entitled “Embryologische Studien an Würmern und Arthropoden” (Mém. Acad. Pétersbourg (7), 16, 1871), proved the same fact for Sagitta and added immensely to our knowledge of the early stages of development of the Invertebrata. These memoirs formed the basis on which subsequent workers took their stand. Amongst the most important of these was F.M. Balfour (1851-1882). Led to the study of embryology by his teacher, M. Foster, in association with whom he published in 1874 the Elements of Embryology, Balfour was one of the first to take advantage of the facilities for research offered by Dr. A. Dohrn’s Zoological Station at Naples which has since become so celebrated. Here he did the work which was subsequently published in 1878 in his Monograph of the Development of Elasmobranch Fishes, and which constituted the most important addition to vertebrate morphology since the days of Johannes Müller. This was followed in 1879 and 1881 by the publication of his Treatise on Comparative Embryology, the first work in which the facts of the rapidly growing science were clearly and philosophically put together, and the greatest. The influence of Balfour’s work on embryology was immense and is still felt. He was an active worker in every department of it, and there are few groups of the animal kingdom on which he has not left the impress of his genius.
A major advance happened in 1859 when T.H. Huxley compared the serous and mucous layers of Pander with the ectoderm and endoderm of the Coelenterata. Despite this comparison, it was generally believed that germinal layers similar to those of vertebrates were not found in invertebrate animals. It wasn't until Kowalewsky's research was published in 1871 (see below) that the germinal layer theory was applied to the embryos of all Metazoa. However, the year 1859 will always be remembered in the history of science as the year the Origin of Species was published. If the statement of the cell theory is seen as the marker of a transition from one period to another in embryology, Darwin's groundbreaking idea marked the beginning of a new era. Before this, anatomical and developmental facts were loosely connected by the theory of types, which originated from Cuvier, L. Agassiz, J. Müller, and R. Owen. Now they were unified into a single organic whole through the theory of descent and the recapitulation hypothesis derived from that theory. This view was first clearly articulated by Johann Müller in his well-known work Für Darwin, published in 1864 (translated in England as Facts for Darwin, 1869), suggesting that understanding embryonic and larval histories could reveal the secrets of racial history, trace the course of evolution, and lead to discovering the natural system of classification, significantly boosting embryological research. The initial outcomes of this drive were obtained by Alexander Agassiz, A. Kowalewsky, and E. Metschnikoff. In his 1864 memoir on the Embryology of the Starfish, Agassiz demonstrated that the body cavity in Echinodermata emerges from a differentiation of the larva's enteron, laying the groundwork for our current understanding of the coelom. This finding was confirmed in 1869 by Metschnikoff (“Studien üb. d. Entwick. d. Echinodermen u. Nemertinen,” Mém. Ac. Pétersbourg (7), 41, 1869), and he extended it to Tornaria, the larva of Balanoglossus, in 1870 (“Untersuchungen üb. d. Metamorphose einiger Seethiere,” Zeit. f. wiss. Zoologie, 20, 1870). In 1871, Kowalewsky, in his classic memoir titled “Embryologische Studien an Würmern und Arthropoden” (Mém. Acad. Pétersbourg (7), 16, 1871), verified the same fact for Sagitta and significantly enhanced our understanding of the early stages of development in Invertebrata. These memoirs established the foundation for future research. Among those who built on this foundation was F.M. Balfour (1851-1882). Motivated by his teacher, M. Foster, he co-published the Elements of Embryology in 1874 and was one of the first to utilize the research opportunities at Dr. A. Dohrn’s Zoological Station in Naples, which has since gained fame. There, he conducted work that was later published in 1878 in his Monograph of the Development of Elasmobranch Fishes, representing the most significant contribution to vertebrate morphology since Johannes Müller. This was followed by his Treatise on Comparative Embryology, published in 1879 and 1881, which was the first comprehensive and philosophical collection of the facts from the rapidly evolving science. Balfour's influence on embryology was immense and continues to be felt today. He actively contributed to every area of the field, and few groups within the animal kingdom have remained unaffected by his genius.
In the period under consideration the output of embryological work has been enormous. No group of the animal kingdom has escaped exhaustive examination, and no effort has been spared to obtain the embryos of isolated and out of the way forms, the development of which might have a bearing upon important questions of phylogeny and classification. Of this work it is impossible to speak in detail in this summary. It is only possible to call attention to some of its more important features, to mention the more important advances, and to refer to some of the more striking memoirs.
In the time we're discussing, the amount of embryological research has been huge. Every group in the animal kingdom has undergone thorough investigation, and no stone has been left unturned to gather embryos from rare and hard-to-find species, as their development could provide insights into significant issues related to evolution and classification. It’s not feasible to go into detail about this work in this summary. Instead, I can highlight some of its key aspects, mention the major breakthroughs, and point out some notable papers.
Marine zoological stations have been established, expeditions have been sent to distant countries, and the methods of investigation have been greatly improved. Since Anton Dohrn founded the Stazione Zoologica at Naples in 1872, observatories for the study of marine organisms have been established in most countries. Of journeys which have been made to distant countries and which have resulted in important contributions to embryology, may be mentioned the expedition (1884-1886) of the cousins Sarasin to Ceylon (development of Gymnophiona), 328 of E. Selenka to Brazil and the East Indies (development of Marsupials, Primates and other mammals, 1877, 1889, 1892), of A.A.W. Hubrecht to the East Indies (1890, development of Tarsius), of W.H. Caldwell to Australia (1883-1884, discovery of the nature of the ovum and oviposition of Echidna and of Ceratodus), of A. Sedgwick to the Cape (1883, development of Peripatus), of J. Graham Kerr to Paraguay (1896, development of Lepidosiren), of R. Semon to Australia and the Malay Archipelago (1891-1893, development of Monotremata, Marsupialia), and of J.S. Budgett to Africa (1898, 1900, 1901, 1903, development of Polypterus).
Marine biological research stations have been set up, expeditions have been sent to far-off countries, and research methods have significantly improved. Since Anton Dohrn established the Stazione Zoologica in Naples in 1872, marine biology observatories have been created in most countries. Notable journeys to distant lands that have made important contributions to embryology include the expedition (1884-1886) by the Sarasin cousins to Ceylon (development of Gymnophiona), 328, E. Selenka’s trips to Brazil and the East Indies (development of Marsupials, Primates, and other mammals in 1877, 1889, 1892), A.A.W. Hubrecht's expedition to the East Indies (1890, development of Tarsius), W.H. Caldwell’s journey to Australia (1883-1884, discovering the nature of the ovum and oviposition of Echidna and Ceratodus), A. Sedgwick’s trip to the Cape (1883, development of Peripatus), J. Graham Kerr’s expedition to Paraguay (1896, development of Lepidosiren), R. Semon’s travels to Australia and the Malay Archipelago (1891-1893, development of Monotremata, Marsupialia), and J.S. Budgett’s explorations in Africa (1898, 1900, 1901, 1903, development of Polypterus).
In methods, while great improvements have been made in the processes of hardening and staining embryos, the principal advance has been the introduction in 1883 by W.H. Caldwell in his work on the development of Phoronis of the method of making tape-worm like strings of sections as a result of which the process of mounting in order all the sections obtained from an embryo was much facilitated, and the use of an automatic microtome rendered possible. The method of Golgi for the investigation of the nervous system, introduced in 1875, must also be mentioned here.
In methods, while significant improvements have been made in the processes of hardening and staining embryos, the major advancement was the introduction in 1883 by W.H. Caldwell in his work on the development of Phoronis regarding the technique of creating tape-worm-like strings of sections. This made it much easier to mount all the sections obtained from an embryo in order, and it enabled the use of an automatic microtome. The Golgi method for investigating the nervous system, introduced in 1875, should also be noted here.
The word “coelom” (q.v.) was introduced into zoology by E. Haeckel in 1872 (Kalkschwämme, p. 468) as a convenient term for the body-cavity (pleuro-peritoneal). The word was generally adopted, and was applied alike to the blood-containing body-cavity of Arthropods and to the body-cavity of Vertebrata and segmented worms, in which there is no blood. In 1875 Huxley (Quarterly Journ. of Mic. Science, 15, p. 53), relying on the researches of Agassiz, Metschnikoff and Kowalewsky above mentioned, put forward the idea that according to their development three kinds of body-cavity ought to be distinguished: (1) the enterocoelic which arises from enteric diverticula, (2) the schizocoelic which develops as a split in the embryonic mesoblast, and (3) the epicoelic which was enclosed by folds of the skin and lined by ectoderm (e.g. atrial cavity of Tunicates, &c.). This suggestion was of great importance, because it led the embryologists of the day (Balfour, the brothers Hertwig, Lankester and others) to discuss the question as to whether there was not more than one kind of body-cavity. The Hertwigs (Coelomtheorie, Jena, 1881) distinguished two kinds, the enterocoel and the pseudocoel. The former, to which they limited the use of the word coelom, and which is developed directly or indirectly from the enteron, is found in Annelida, Arthropoda, Echinodermata, Chordata, &c. The latter they regarded as something quite different from the coelom and as arising by a split in what they called for the first time mesenchyme; the mesenchyme being the non-epithelial mesoderm, which they described as consisting of amoeboid cells, but which we now know to consist of a continuous reticulum. The next step was made by E. Ray Lankester, who in 1884 (Zoologischer Anzeiger) showed that the pericardium of Mollusca does not contain blood, and therein differs from the rest of the body-cavity which does contain blood, but no suggestion is made that the blood-containing space is not coelomic. In fact it was generally held by the anatomists of the day that the coelom and the vascular system were different parts of the same primitive organ, though separate from it in the adult except in Arthropoda and Mollusca. In the Mollusca, it is true, the pericardial part of the coelom was held to be separate from the vascular, and the Hertwigs had reached the correct conception that the pericardium of these animals was alone true coelom, the vascular part being pseudocoel. This was the state of morphological opinion until 1886, when it was shown (Proc. Cambridge Phil. Soc., 6, 1886, p. 27) (1) that the coelom of Peripatus gives rise to the nephridia and generative glands only, and to no other part of the body-cavity of the adult, (2) that the nephridia of the adult do not open as had been supposed into the body-cavity, (3) that the body-cavity is entirely formed of the blood-containing space, the coelom having no perivisceral portion. These results were extended by the same author (Quart. Journ. Mic. Sci., 27, 1887, pp. 486-540) to other Arthropods and to the Mollusca, and the modern theory of the coelom was finally established. An increased precision was given to the conception of coelom by the discovery in 1880 (Quart. Journ. Mic. Sci., 20, p. 164) that the nephridia of Elasmobranchs are a direct differentiation of a portion of it. In 1886 this was extended to Peripatus (Proc. Camb. Phil. Soc., 6, p. 27) and doubtless holds universally.
The term “coelom” (q.v.) was introduced into zoology by E. Haeckel in 1872 (Kalkschwämme, p. 468) as a handy term for the body cavity (pleuro-peritoneal). It was widely accepted and applied to both the blood-filled body cavity of Arthropods and the body cavity of Vertebrates and segmented worms, where there is no blood. In 1875, Huxley (Quarterly Journ. of Mic. Science, 15, p. 53), building on the work of Agassiz, Metschnikoff, and Kowalewsky, proposed that based on their development, three types of body cavities should be distinguished: (1) enterocoelic, which forms from enteric diverticula, (2) schizocoelic, which develops from a split in the embryonic mesoblast, and (3) epicoelic, which is enclosed by skin folds and lined by ectoderm (e.g. atrial cavity of Tunicates, etc.). This suggestion was significant because it prompted the embryologists of the time (Balfour, the Hertwig brothers, Lankester, and others) to debate whether there was more than one type of body cavity. The Hertwigs (Coelomtheorie, Jena, 1881) identified two types: enterocoel and pseudocoel. They limited the term coelom to the former, which directly or indirectly develops from the enteron, found in Annelida, Arthropoda, Echinodermata, Chordata, etc. They considered the latter as entirely different from the coelom and arising from a split in what they termed mesenchyme for the first time; mesenchyme being the non-epithelial mesoderm, initially described as made of amoeboid cells, but which we now recognize as a continuous network. The next advancement was made by E. Ray Lankester, who in 1884 (Zoologischer Anzeiger) demonstrated that the pericardium of Mollusca does not contain blood, distinguishing it from other body cavities that do contain blood, but did not suggest that the blood-containing area is not coelomic. Indeed, it was generally accepted among anatomists of the time that the coelom and the vascular system were different parts of the same primitive organ, though separate in adults except in Arthropoda and Mollusca. In Mollusca, the pericardial section of the coelom was regarded as distinct from the vascular part, and the Hertwigs had accurately conceptualized that the pericardium of these animals is the only true coelom, with the vascular section being pseudocoel. This understanding remained until 1886 when it was demonstrated (Proc. Cambridge Phil. Soc., 6, 1886, p. 27) that (1) the coelom of Peripatus only contributes to the nephridia and generative glands, not to any other part of the adult body cavity, (2) the nephridia of the adult do not open as previously thought into the body cavity, and (3) the body cavity is entirely made up of the blood-containing space, with the coelom lacking a perivisceral portion. These findings were expanded by the same author (Quart. Journ. Mic. Sci., 27, 1887, pp. 486-540) to include other Arthropods and Mollusca, ultimately establishing the modern theory of the coelom. The understanding of coelom was further refined by the discovery in 1880 (Quart. Journ. Mic. Sci., 20, p. 164) that the nephridia of Elasmobranchs are a direct differentiation of part of it. In 1886, this was extended to Peripatus (Proc. Camb. Phil. Soc., 6, p. 27) and likely applies universally.
In 1864 it was suggested by V. Hensen (Virchow’s Archiv, 31) that the rudiments of nerve-fibres are present from the beginning of development as persistent remains of connexions between the incompletely separated cells of the segmented ovum. This suggestion fell to the ground because it was held by embryologists that the cleavage of the ovum resulted in the formation of completely separate cells, and that the connexions between the adult cells were secondary. In 1886 it was shown (Quarterly Journ. Mic. Sci., 26, p. 182) that in Peripatus Capensis the cells of the segmenting ovum do not separate from one another, but remain connected by a loose protoplasmic network. This discovery has since been extended to other ova, even to the small so-called holoblastic ova, and a basis of fact was found for Hensen’s suggestion as to the embryonic origin of nerves (Quart. Journ. Mic. Sci., 33, 1892, pp. 581-584). An extension and further application of the new views as to the cell-theory and the embryonic origin of nerves thus necessitated was made in 1894 (Quart. Journ. Mic. Sci., 37, p. 87), and in 1904 J. Graham Kerr showed that the motor nerves in the dipnoan fish Lepidosiren arise in an essentially similar manner (Trans. Roy. Society of Edinburgh, 41, p. 119).
In 1864, V. Hensen suggested in Virchow’s Archiv that the beginnings of nerve fibers are present from the start of development as lasting connections between the not-fully-separated cells of the segmented egg. This idea was dismissed by embryologists who believed that the cleavage of the egg led to completely separate cells and that the connections between the adult cells formed later. However, in 1886, it was demonstrated in the Quarterly Journ. Mic. Sci. that in Peripatus Capensis, the cells of the segmenting egg do not separate but stay connected by a loose protoplasmic network. This finding has since been applied to other eggs, including smaller so-called holoblastic eggs, providing evidence for Hensen’s idea about the embryonic origin of nerves (Quart. Journ. Mic. Sci., 33, 1892, pp. 581-584). An expansion and further application of the new perspectives on cell theory and the embryonic origin of nerves were made in 1894 (Quart. Journ. Mic. Sci., 37, p. 87), and in 1904, J. Graham Kerr showed that the motor nerves in the dipnoan fish Lepidosiren develop in a similar way (Trans. Roy. Society of Edinburgh, 41, p. 119).
In 1883 Elie Metschnikoff published his researches on the intracellular digestion of invertebrates (Arbeiten a. d. zoologischen Inst. Wien, 5; and Biologisches Centralblatt, 3, p. 560); these formed the basis of his theory of inflammation and phagocytosis, which has had such an important influence on pathology. As he himself has told us, he was led to make these investigations by his precedent researches on the development of sponges and other invertebrates. To quote his own words: “Having long studied the problem of the germinal layers in the animal series, I sought to give some idea of their origin and significance. The part played by the ectoderm and endoderm appeared quite clear, and the former might reasonably be regarded as the cutaneous investment of primitive multicellular animals, while the latter might be regarded as their organ of digestion. The discovery of intracellular digestion in many of the lower animals led me to regard this phenomenon as characteristic of those ancestral animals from which might be derived all the known types of the animal kingdom (excepting, of course, the Protozoa). The origin and part played by the mesoderm appeared the most obscure. Thus certain embryologists supposed that this layer corresponded to the reproductive organs of primitive animals: others regarded it as the prototype of the organs of locomotion. My embryological and physiological studies on sponges led me to the conclusion that the mesoderm must function in the hypothetically primitive animals as a mass of digestive cells, in all points similar to those of the endoderm. This hypothesis necessarily attracted my attention to the power of seizing foreign corpuscles possessed by the mesodermic cells” (Immunity in Infective Diseases, English translation, Cambridge, 1905).
In 1883, Elie Metschnikoff published his research on intracellular digestion in invertebrates (Arbeiten a. d. zoologischen Inst. Wien, 5; and Biologisches Centralblatt, 3, p. 560). This work formed the basis of his theory on inflammation and phagocytosis, which has significantly influenced pathology. As he explained, he was driven to conduct these studies by his earlier research on the development of sponges and other invertebrates. To quote him: “Having long studied the issue of germinal layers in the animal series, I aimed to provide some insight into their origin and significance. The role of the ectoderm and endoderm seemed quite clear, with the former being reasonably considered as the skin of primitive multicellular animals, while the latter could be seen as their digestive organ. The discovery of intracellular digestion in many lower animals led me to view this phenomenon as characteristic of those ancestral animals from which all known types of the animal kingdom might have descended (excluding, of course, the Protozoa). The origin and role of the mesoderm appeared to be the most unclear. Some embryologists suggested that this layer corresponded to the reproductive organs of primitive animals, while others saw it as the prototype of locomotion organs. My embryological and physiological studies on sponges led me to conclude that the mesoderm must act as a mass of digestive cells in hypothetically primitive animals, similar to those of the endoderm. This hypothesis naturally drew my attention to the ability of mesodermic cells to capture foreign particles” (Immunity in Infective Diseases, English translation, Cambridge, 1905).
The branch of embryology which concerns itself with the study of the origin, history and conjugation of the individuals (gametes) which are concerned in the reproduction of the species has made great advances. These began in 1875 and following years with a careful examination of the behaviour of the germinal vesicle in the maturation and fertilization of the ovum. The history of the polar bodies, the origin of the female pronucleus, the presence in the ovum of a second nucleus, the male pronucleus, which gave rise to the first segmentation nucleus by fusion with the female pronucleus, were discovered (E. van Beneden, O. Bütschli, O. Hertwig, H. Fol), and in 1876 O. Hertwig (Morphologisches Jahrbuch, 3, 1876) for the first time observed the entrance of a spermatozoon into the egg and the formation of the male pronucleus from it. The centrosome was discovered by W. Flemming in 1875 in the egg of the fresh-water mussel, and independently in 1876 by E. van Beneden in Dicyemids. In 1883 came E. van Beneden’s celebrated discovery (Arch. Biologie, 329 4) of the reduction of the number of chromosomes in the nucleus of both male and female gametes, and of the fact that the male and female pronuclei contribute the same number of chromosomes to the zygote-nucleus. He also showed that the gametogenesis in the male is a similar process to that in the female, and paved the way for the acceptation of the view (due to Bütschli) that polar bodies are aborted female gametes. These discoveries were extended and completed by subsequent workers, among whom may be mentioned E. van Beneden, J.B. Carnoy, G. Platner, T. Boveri, O. Hertwig, A. Brauer. The subject is still being actively pursued, and hopes are entertained that some relation may be found between the behaviour of the chromosomes and the facts of heredity.
The field of embryology that focuses on the study of the origin, history, and union of the individuals (gametes) involved in species reproduction has made significant strides. This progress began in 1875 and in the following years with a detailed examination of the behavior of the germinal vesicle during the maturation and fertilization of the ovum. Discoveries included the history of the polar bodies, the origin of the female pronucleus, and the presence in the ovum of a second nucleus, the male pronucleus, which formed the first segmentation nucleus by merging with the female pronucleus, made by E. van Beneden, O. Bütschli, O. Hertwig, and H. Fol. In 1876, O. Hertwig (Morphologisches Jahrbuch, 3, 1876) was the first to see a spermatozoon enter the egg and the creation of the male pronucleus from it. W. Flemming discovered the centrosome in 1875 in the egg of the fresh-water mussel, and independently in 1876, E. van Beneden found it in Dicyemids. In 1883, E. van Beneden made his famous discovery (Arch. Biologie, 329 4) regarding the reduction in the number of chromosomes in the nuclei of both male and female gametes, and that the male and female pronuclei contribute an equal number of chromosomes to the zygote nucleus. He also demonstrated that gametogenesis in males is a process similar to that in females, paving the way for the acceptance of Bütschli's view that polar bodies are degenerated female gametes. These findings were further expanded upon by later researchers, including E. van Beneden, J.B. Carnoy, G. Platner, T. Boveri, O. Hertwig, and A. Brauer. This topic is still actively researched, and there are hopes of uncovering a connection between chromosome behavior and heredity.
Since 1874 (W. His, Unsere Körperform und das physiologische Problem ihrer Entstehung) a new branch of embryology, which concerns itself with the physiology of development, has arisen (experimental embryology). The principal workers in this field have been W. Roux, who in 1894 founded the Archiv für Entwickelungsmechanik der Organismen, T. Boveri and Y. Delage who discovered and elucidated the phenomenon of merogony, J. Loeb who discovered artificial parthenogenesis, O. and R. Hertwig, H. Driesch, C. Herbst, E. Maupas, A. Weismann, T.H. Morgan, C.B. Davenport (Experimental Morphology, 2 vols., 1899) and many others.
Since 1874 (W. His, Our Body Shape and the Physiological Problem of Its Origin), a new area of embryology focused on the physiology of development has emerged (experimental embryology). The key figures in this field have included W. Roux, who founded the Archiv für Entwicklungsmechanik der Organismen in 1894, T. Boveri and Y. Delage who discovered and explained the phenomenon of merogony, J. Loeb who found artificial parthenogenesis, O. and R. Hertwig, H. Driesch, C. Herbst, E. Maupas, A. Weismann, T.H. Morgan, C.B. Davenport (Experimental Morphology, 2 vols., 1899), and many others.
In the elucidation of remarkable life-histories we may point in the first place to the work of A. Kowalewsky on the development of the Tunicata (“Entwickelungsgeschichte d. einfachen Ascidien,” Mém. Acad. Pétersbourg (7), 10, 1866, and Arch. f. Mic. Anatomie, 7, 1871), in which was demonstrated for the first time the vertebrate relationship of the Tunicata (possession of a notochord, method of development of the central nervous system) and which led to the establishment of the group Chordata. We may also mention the work of Y. Delage in the metamorphosis of Sacculina (Arch. zool. exp. (2) 2, 1884), A. Giard (Comptes rendus, 123, 1896, p. 836) and of A. Malaquin on Monstrilla (Arch. zool. exp. (3), 9, p. 81, 1901), of Delage (Comptes rendus, 103, 1886, p. 698) and Grassi and Calandruccio (Rend. Acc. Lincei (5), 6, 1897, p. 43), on the development of the eels, and of P. Pergande on the life-history of the Aphidae (Bull. U.S. Dep. Agric. Ent., technical series, 9, 1901). The work of C. Grobben (Arbeiten zool. Inst. Wien, 4, 1882) and of B. Uljanin (“Die Arten der Gattung Doliolum,” Fauna u. Flora des Golfes von Neapel, 1884) on the extraordinary life-history and migration of the buds in Doliolum must also be mentioned. In pure embryological morphology we have had Heymons’ elucidation of the Arthropod head, the work of Hatschek on Annelid and other larvae, the works of H. Bury and of E.W. MacBride which have marked a distinct advance in our knowledge of the development of Echinodermata, of K. Mitsukuri, who has founded since 1882 an important school of embryology in Japan, on the early development of Chelonia and Aves, of A. Brauer and G.C. Price on the development of vertebrate excretory organs, of Th. W. Bischoff, E. van Beneden, E. Selenka, A.A.W. Hubrecht, R. Bonnet, F. Keibel and R. Assheton on the development of mammals, of A.A.W. Hubrecht and E. Selenka on the early development and placentation of the Primates, of J. Graham Kerr and of J.S. Budgett on the development of Dipnoan and Ganoid fishes, of A. Kowalewsky, B. Hatschek, A. Willey and E.W. MacBride on the development of Amphioxus, of B. Dean on the development of Bdellostoma, of A. Götte on the development of Amphibia, of H. Strahl and L. Will on the early development of reptiles, of T.H. Huxley, C. Gegenbaur and W.K. Parker on the development of the vertebrate skeleton, of van Wijhe on the segmentation of the vertebrate head, by which the modern theory of head-segmentation, previously adumbrated by Balfour, was first established, of Leche and Röse on the development of mammalian dentitions. We may also specially notice W. Bateson’s work on the development of Balanoglossus and his inclusion of this genus among the Chordata (1884), the discovery by J.P. Hill of a placenta in the marsupial genus Perameles (1895), the work of P. Marchal (1904) on the asexual increase by fission of the early embryos of certain parasitic Hymenoptera (so called germinogony), a phenomenon which had been long ago shown to occur in Lumbricus trapezoides by N. Kleinenberg (1879) and by S.F. Harmer in Polyzoa (1893). The work on cell-lineage which has been so actively pursued in America may be mentioned here. It has consisted mainly of an extension of the early work of A. Kowalewsky and B. Hatschek on the formation of the layers, being a more minute and detailed examination of the origin of the embryonic tissues.
In exploring remarkable life histories, we first highlight A. Kowalewsky's work on the development of the Tunicata (“Entwickelungsgeschichte d. einfachen Ascidien,” Mém. Acad. Pétersbourg (7), 10, 1866, and Arch. f. Mic. Anatomie, 7, 1871), which demonstrated for the first time the vertebrate relationship of the Tunicata (the presence of a notochord and the way the central nervous system develops) and led to the establishment of the Chordata group. We should also mention Y. Delage's work on the metamorphosis of Sacculina (Arch. zool. exp. (2) 2, 1884), A. Giard's work (Comptes rendus, 123, 1896, p. 836), and A. Malaquin's research on Monstrilla (Arch. zool. exp. (3), 9, p. 81, 1901), alongside Delage's findings (Comptes rendus, 103, 1886, p. 698) and those of Grassi and Calandruccio (Rend. Acc. Lincei (5), 6, 1897, p. 43) on eel development, as well as P. Pergande's study on the life history of the Aphidae (Bull. U.S. Dep. Agric. Ent., technical series, 9, 1901). Additionally, we should mention C. Grobben's work (Arbeiten zool. Inst. Wien, 4, 1882) and B. Uljanin's study (“Die Arten der Gattung Doliolum,” Fauna u. Flora des Golfes von Neapel, 1884) on the extraordinary life history and migration of buds in Doliolum. In pure embryological morphology, we have Heymons' clarification of the Arthropod head, Hatschek’s research on Annelid and other larvae, and the contributions of H. Bury and E.W. MacBride, which have significantly enhanced our understanding of Echinodermata development. K. Mitsukuri has been foundational in establishing an important embryology school in Japan since 1882, focusing on the early development of Chelonia and Aves, while A. Brauer and G.C. Price studied the development of vertebrate excretory organs, and Th. W. Bischoff, E. van Beneden, E. Selenka, A.A.W. Hubrecht, R. Bonnet, F. Keibel, and R. Assheton researched mammal development. A.A.W. Hubrecht and E. Selenka focused on the early development and placentation of Primates, while J. Graham Kerr and J.S. Budgett examined the development of Dipnoan and Ganoid fishes. The works of A. Kowalewsky, B. Hatschek, A. Willey, and E.W. MacBride on Amphioxus development, B. Dean on Bdellostoma, A. Götte on amphibian development, and H. Strahl and L. Will on early reptile development are also noteworthy. T.H. Huxley, C. Gegenbaur, and W.K. Parker contributed to understanding vertebrate skeleton development, and van Wijhe's research on vertebrate head segmentation established the modern theory of head segmentation, which Balfour had previously hinted at. Leche and Röse studied mammalian dentition development. We should specifically mention W. Bateson’s research on the development of Balanoglossus and his categorization of this genus within the Chordata (1884), J.P. Hill's discovery of a placenta in the marsupial genus Perameles (1895), and P. Marchal's work (1904) on the asexual reproduction by fission of certain parasitic Hymenoptera embryos, a phenomenon that N. Kleinenberg (1879) and S.F. Harmer (1893) had previously documented in Lumbricus trapezoides and Polyzoa, respectively. The cell lineage research actively pursued in America can also be mentioned here. This work mainly built on A. Kowalewsky and B. Hatschek's early studies on layer formation, providing a more detailed examination of the origins of embryonic tissues.
The most important text-books and summaries which have appeared in this period have been Korschelt and Heider’s Lehrbuch der vergleichenden Entwickelungsgeschichte der wirbellosen Tiere (1890-1902), C.S. Minot’s Human Embryology (1892), and the Handbuch der vergleichenden und experimentellen Entwickelungslehre der Wirbeltiere, edited by O. Hertwig (1901, et seq.). See also K.E. von Baer, Über Entwicklungsgeschichte der Tiere (Königsberg, 1828, 1837); F.M. Balfour, A Monograph on the Development of Elasmobranch Fishes (London, 1878); A Treatise on Comparative Embryology, vols. i. and ii. (London, 1885) (still the most important work on Vertebrate Embryology); M. Duval, Atlas d’Embryologie (Paris, 1889); M. Foster and F.M. Balfour, Elements of Embryology (London, 1883); O. Hertwig, Lehrbuch der Entwicklungsgeschichte des Menschen u. der Wirbeltiere (6th ed., Jena, 1898); A. Kölliker, Entwicklungsgeschichte des Menschen u. der höheren Tiere (Leipzig, 1879); A.M. Marshall, Vertebrate Embryology (London, 1893).
The most significant textbooks and summaries published during this period include Korschelt and Heider’s Textbook of Comparative Developmental Biology of Invertebrates (1890-1902), C.S. Minot’s Human Embryology (1892), and the Handbook of Comparative and Experimental Developmental Biology of Vertebrates, edited by O. Hertwig (1901, et seq.). Also see K.E. von Baer, On the Developmental History of Animals (Königsberg, 1828, 1837); F.M. Balfour, A Monograph on the Development of Elasmobranch Fishes (London, 1878); A Treatise on Comparative Embryology, vols. i and ii (London, 1885) (still the most important work on Vertebrate Embryology); M. Duval, Atlas of Embryology (Paris, 1889); M. Foster and F.M. Balfour, Elements of Embryology (London, 1883); O. Hertwig, Textbook of Human and Vertebrate Development (6th ed., Jena, 1898); A. Kölliker, Developmental History of Humans and Higher Animals (Leipzig, 1879); A.M. Marshall, Vertebrate Embryology (London, 1893).
Physiology of Development
Developmental Physiology
Physiology of Development [in German, Entwicklungsmechanik (W. Roux), Entwicklungsphysiologie (H. Driesch), physiologische Morphologie (J. Loeb)] is, in the broadest meaning of the word, the experimental science of morphogenesis, i.e. of the laws that govern morphological differentiation. In this sense it embraces the study of regeneration and variation, and would, as a whole, best be called rational morphology. Here we shall treat of the Physiology of Development in a narrower sense, as the study of the laws that govern the development of the adult organism from the egg, Regeneration and Variation and Selection forming the subjects of special articles.
Physiology of Development [in German, Entwicklungsmechanik (W. Roux), Entwicklungsphysiologie (H. Driesch), physiologische Morphologie (J. Loeb)] refers, in the broadest sense, to the experimental study of morphogenesis, meaning the principles that drive morphological differentiation. This field includes the examination of regeneration and variation, and is generally best described as rational morphology. Here, we will focus on the Physiology of Development in a more specific context, as the investigation of the principles that guide the growth of the adult organism from the egg, Regeneration and Variation and Selection will be discussed in dedicated articles.
After the work done by W. His, A. Goette and E.F.W. Pflüger, who gave a sort of general outline and orientation of the subject, the first to study developmental problems properly in a systematical way, and with full conviction of their great importance, was Wilhelm Roux. This observer, having found by a full analysis of the facts of “development” that the first special problem to be worked out was the question when and where the first differentiation appeared, got as his main result that, when one of the two first blastomeres (cleavage cells) of the frog’s egg was killed, the living one developed into a typical half-embryo, i.e. an embryo that was either the right or the left part of a whole one. From that Roux concluded that the first cleavage plane determined already the median plane of the adult; and that the basis of all differentiation was given by an unequal division of the nuclear substances during karyokinesis, a result that was also attained on a purely theoretical basis by A. Weismann. Hans Driesch repeated Roux’s fundamental experiment with a different method on the sea-urchin’s egg, with a result that was absolutely contrary to that of Roux: the isolated blastomere cleaved like half the egg, but it resulted in a whole blastula and a whole embryo, which differed from a normal one only in its small size. Driesch’s result was obtained in somewhat the same manner by E.B. Wilson with the egg of Amphioxus, by Zoja with the egg of Medusae, &c. It thus became very probable that an inequality of nuclear division could not be the basis of differentiation. The following experiments were still more fatal to the theories of Roux and of Weismann. Driesch found that even when the first eight or sixteen cells of the cleaving egg of the sea-urchin were brought into quite abnormal positions with regard to one another, still a quite normal embryo was developed; Driesch and T.H. Morgan discovered jointly that in the Ctenophore egg one isolated blastomere developed into a half-embryo, but that the same was the case if a portion of protoplasm was cut off from the fertilized egg not yet in cleavage; last, but not of least importance, in the case of the frog’s egg which had been Roux’s actual subject of experiment, conditions were discovered by O. Schultze and O. Hertwig 330 under which one of the two first blastomeres of this egg developed into a whole embryo of half size. This result was made still more decisive by Morgan, who showed that it was quite in the power of the experimenter to get either a half-embryo or a whole one of half size, the latter dependent only upon giving to the blastomere the opportunity for a rearrangement of its matter by turning it over.
After the work by W. His, A. Goette, and E.F.W. Pflüger, who provided a general overview of the topic, the first person to systematically study developmental problems with a strong belief in their significance was Wilhelm Roux. Through a thorough analysis of developmental facts, he determined that the key issue to resolve was when and where the first differentiation occurred. He found that if one of the two initial blastomeres (cleavage cells) of a frog's egg was destroyed, the surviving one developed into a typical half-embryo, meaning an embryo that was either the right or left side of a complete one. From this, Roux concluded that the first cleavage plane already determined the median plane of the adult; and that the basis of all differentiation stemmed from an unequal division of nuclear material during karyokinesis, a conclusion also reached theoretically by A. Weismann. Hans Driesch repeated Roux's key experiment using a different method on the sea urchin egg, yielding results that were completely opposed to Roux's: the isolated blastomere cleaved like half of the egg but produced a complete blastula and a whole embryo, which only differed from a normal one in size. Driesch's findings were similarly observed by E.B. Wilson with the Amphioxus egg, by Zoja with the Medusae egg, etc. It thus became likely that unequal nuclear division could not be the foundation of differentiation. Subsequent experiments further undermined the theories of Roux and Weismann. Driesch discovered that even when the first eight or sixteen cells of the sea urchin's cleaving egg were placed in completely abnormal positions relative to each other, a normal embryo still developed. Driesch and T.H. Morgan jointly found that in the Ctenophore egg, one isolated blastomere developed into a half-embryo, but the same result occurred if a piece of protoplasm was removed from the fertilized egg before it began cleavage. Lastly, in the case of the frog's egg, which had been Roux's actual subject of study, O. Schultze and O. Hertwig discovered conditions under which one of the first two blastomeres developed into a complete embryo of half size. This result was further confirmed by Morgan, who demonstrated that it was entirely within the experimenter's control to obtain either a half-embryo or a whole one of half size, depending solely on allowing the blastomere to rearrange its material by flipping it over.
Thus we may say that the general result of the introductory series of experiments in the physiology of development is the following:—In many forms, e.g. Echinoderms, Amphioxus, Ascidians, Fishes and Medusae, the potentiality (prospective Potenz—Driesch) of all the blastomeres of the segmented egg is the same, i.e. each of them may play any or every part in the future development; the prospective value (prosp. Bedeutung—D.) of each blastomere depends upon, or is a function of, its position in the whole of the segmented egg; we can term the “whole” of the egg after cleavage an “aequipotential system” (Driesch). But though aequipotential, the whole of the segmented egg is nevertheless not devoid of orientation or direction; the general law of causality compels us to assume a general orientation of the smallest parts of the egg, even in cases where we are not able to see it. It has been experimentally proved that external stimuli (light, heat, pressure, &c.) are not responsible for the first differentiation of organs in the embryo; thus, should the segmented egg be absolutely equal in itself, it would be incomprehensible that the first organs should be formed at one special point of it and not at another. Besides this general argument, we see a sort of orientation in the typical forms of the polar or bilateral cleavage stages.
So, we can conclude that the overall findings from the initial series of experiments in developmental physiology are as follows: In many organisms, like echinoderms, amphioxus, ascidians, fish, and jellyfish, all the blastomeres of the segmented egg have the same potential (prospective Potenz—Driesch), meaning each one can take on any role in future development. The prospective value (prosp. Bedeutung—D.) of each blastomere depends on its position within the entire segmented egg; we can refer to the “whole” of the egg after cleavage as an “aequipotential system” (Driesch). However, even though it is aequipotential, the whole segmented egg isn't without orientation or direction. The general law of causality leads us to assume that there is a general orientation of the smallest parts of the egg, even in cases where we can't observe it. Experiments have shown that external stimuli (like light, heat, pressure, etc.) do not cause the initial differentiation of organs in the embryo; therefore, if the segmented egg were completely uniform, it would be puzzling that the first organs would form in one specific area and not another. In addition to this general argument, we also observe some orientation in the typical patterns of polar or bilateral cleavage stages.
Differentiation, therefore, depends on a primary, i.e. innate, orientation of the egg’s plasma in those forms, the segmented eggs of which represent aequipotential systems; this orientation is capable of a sort of regulation or restoration after disturbances of any sort; in the egg of the Ctenophora such a regulation is not possible, and in the frog’s egg it is facultative, i.e. possible under certain conditions, but impossible under others. Should this interpretation be right, the difference between the eggs of different animals would not be so great as it seemed at first: differences with regard to the potentialities of the blastomeres would only be differences with regard to the capability of regulation or restoration of the egg’s protoplasm.
Differentiation, then, relies on a primary, i.e. innate, orientation of the egg's plasma in those forms, where the segmented eggs represent equal potential systems; this orientation can regulate or restore itself after any kind of disturbance. In the egg of the Ctenophora, such regulation isn’t possible, while in the frog's egg, it’s conditional, i.e. possible under certain circumstances but not under others. If this interpretation is accurate, the differences between the eggs of various animals may not be as significant as they initially appear: differences in the potential of the blastomeres would merely reflect differences in the egg's protoplasm's ability to regulate or restore itself.
The foundation of physiological embryology being laid, we now can shortly deal with the whole series of special problems offered to us by a general analysis of that science, but at present worked out only to a very small extent.
The groundwork of physiological embryology established, we can now briefly address the entire range of specific issues presented to us by a general analysis of that science, which has only been developed to a limited degree so far.
We may ask the following questions:—What are the general conditions of development? On what general factors does it depend? How do the different organs of the partly developed embryo stand with regard to their future fate? What are the stimuli (Reize) effecting differentiation? What is to be said about the specific character of the different formative effects? And as the most important question of all: Are all the problems offered to us in the physiology of development to be solved with the aid of the laws known hitherto in science, or do we want specifically new “vitalistic” factors?
We can ask the following questions:—What are the overall conditions for development? What general factors does it rely on? How do the different parts of the partly developed embryo relate to their future outcomes? What are the stimuli (Reize) that drive differentiation? What can we say about the specific nature of the various formative effects? And most importantly: Can all the challenges presented to us in the physiology of development be addressed using the laws we currently understand in science, or do we need entirely new “vitalistic” factors?
Energy in different forms is required for development, and is provided by the surrounding medium. Light, though of no influence on the cleavage (Driesch), has a great effect on later stages of development, and is also necessary Conditions of differentiation. for the formation of polyps in Eudendrium (J. Loeb). That a certain temperature is necessary for ontogeny has long been known; this was carefully studied by O. Hertwig, as was also the influence of heat on the rate of development. Oxygen is also wanted, either from a certain stage of development or from the very beginning of it, though very nearly related forms differ in this respect (Loeb). The great influence of osmotic pressure on growth was studied by J. Loeb, C. Herbst and C.H. Davenport. In all these cases energy may be necessary for development in general, or a specific form of energy may be necessary for the formation of a specific organ; it is clear that, especially in the latter case, energy is shown to be a proper factor for morphogenesis. Besides energy, a certain chemical condition of the medium, whether offered by the water in which the egg lives or (especially in later stages) by the food, is of great importance for normal ontogeny; the only careful study in this respect was carried out by Herbst for the development of the egg of Echinids. This investigator has shown that all salts of the sea water are of great importance for development, and most of them specifically and typically; for instance, calcium is absolutely necessary for holding together the embryonic cells, and without calcium all cells will fall apart, though they do not die, but live to develop further.
Energy in various forms is essential for development and comes from the surrounding environment. Light, while not affecting cleavage (Driesch), significantly impacts the later stages of development, and is also necessary for the formation of polyps in Eudendrium (J. Loeb). It's been known for a long time that a specific temperature is required for ontogeny; this was thoroughly investigated by O. Hertwig, who also explored how heat influences the rate of development. Oxygen is needed, either from a certain stage of development or from the very beginning, although closely related forms can differ in this regard (Loeb). The significant impact of osmotic pressure on growth was examined by J. Loeb, C. Herbst, and C.H. Davenport. In all these instances, energy may be required for overall development, or a specific type of energy might be needed for the formation of a particular organ; it's evident that, especially in the latter case, energy is a crucial factor for morphogenesis. Additionally, a specific chemical condition of the environment, whether provided by the water in which the egg resides or (especially in later stages) by the food, is vitally important for normal ontogeny; the only thorough research on this was conducted by Herbst concerning the development of the egg of Echinids. This researcher demonstrated that all salts in seawater are crucial for development, with most playing specific and typical roles; for example, calcium is absolutely essential for holding embryonic cells together, and without calcium, all cells will separate, though they will not die and can continue to develop.
What we have dealt with may be called external factors of development; as to their complement, the internal factors, it is clear that every elementary factor of general physiology may be regarded as one of them. Chemical metamorphosis plays, of course, a great part in differentiation, especially in the form of secretions; but very little has been carefully studied in this respect. Movement of living matter, whether of cells or of intracellular substance, is another important factor (O. Bütschli, F. Dreyer, L. Rhumbler.) Cell-division is another, its differences in direction, rate and quantity being of great importance for differentiation. We know very little about it; a so-called law of O. Hertwig, that a cell would divide at right angles to its longest diameter, though experimentally stated in some cases, does not hold for all, and the only thing we can say is, that the unknown primary organization of the egg is here responsible. (Compare the papers on “cell-lineage” of E.B. Wilson, F.R. Lillie, H.S. Jennings, O. Zurstrassen and others.) Of the inner factors of ontogeny there is another category that may be called physical, that already spoken of being physiological. The most important of these is the capillarity of the cell surfaces. Berthold was the first to call attention to its role in the arrangement of cell composites, and afterwards the matter was more carefully studied by Dreyer, Driesch, and especially W. Roux, with the result that the arrangement of cells follows the principle of surfaces minimae areae (Plateau) as much as is reconcilable with the conditions of the system.
What we've discussed can be called external factors of development. As for their counterpart, the internal factors, it's clear that every basic aspect of general physiology can be considered one of them. Chemical changes play a significant role in differentiation, especially in terms of secretions; however, very little has been thoroughly examined in this area. Movement of living matter, whether it's cells or intracellular substances, is another crucial factor (O. Bütschli, F. Dreyer, L. Rhumbler.) Cell division is another important aspect, with differences in direction, speed, and quantity being vital for differentiation. We know very little about this; a so-called law proposed by O. Hertwig, which states that a cell divides at right angles to its longest diameter, has been shown experimentally in some cases but doesn't apply to all. The only thing we can conclude is that the unknown primary organization of the egg is responsible in this instance. (See the papers on “cell-lineage” by E.B. Wilson, F.R. Lillie, H.S. Jennings, O. Zurstrassen, and others.) Another category of the inner factors of development is physical, while the previously mentioned category is physiological. The most important of these is the capillarity of the cell surfaces. Berthold was the first to highlight its role in the arrangement of cell composites, and later, the topic was studied more closely by Dreyer, Driesch, and especially W. Roux, leading to the finding that the arrangement of cells follows the principle of surfaces minimae areae (Plateau), as much as is compatible with the conditions of the system.
It has already been shown that in many cases the embryo after cleavage, i.e. the blastula, is an “aequipotential system.” It was shown that in the egg of Echinids there existed such an absolute lack of determination of the cleavage Potentialities of embryonic cells. cells that (a) the cells may be put in quite abnormal positions with reference to one another without disturbing development; (b) a quarter blastomere gives a quite normal little pluteus, even a sixteenth yields a gastrula; (c) two eggs may fuse in the early blastula stage, giving one single normal embryo of double size. Our next question concerns the distribution of potentiality, when the embryo is developed further than the blastula stage. In this case it has been shown that the potentialities of the different embryonic organs are different: that, for instance, in Echinoderms or Amphibians the ectoderm, when isolated, is not able to form endoderm, and so on (Driesch, D. Barfurth); but it has been shown at the same time that the ectoderm in itself, the intestine in itself of Echinoderms (Driesch), the medullary plate in itself of Triton (H. Spemann), is as aequipotential as was the blastula: that any part whatever of these organs may be taken away without disturbing the development of the rest into a normal and proportional embryonic part, except for its smaller size.
It has already been shown that in many cases the embryo after cleavage, i.e. the blastula, is an “aequipotential system.” It was demonstrated that in the egg of Echinids, there was such a complete lack of determination of the cleavage Potential of embryonic cells. cells that (a) the cells can be placed in completely abnormal positions relative to each other without disrupting development; (b) a quarter blastomere produces a perfectly normal little pluteus, and even a sixteenth can develop into a gastrula; (c) two eggs can fuse at the early blastula stage, creating one single normal embryo of double size. Our next question is about the distribution of potentiality when the embryo has developed beyond the blastula stage. In this case, it has been shown that the potentialities of different embryonic organs vary: for example, in Echinoderms or Amphibians, the ectoderm, when isolated, cannot form endoderm, and so on (Driesch, D. Barfurth); but it has simultaneously been shown that the ectoderm by itself, the intestine by itself of Echinoderms (Driesch), the medullary plate by itself of Triton (H. Spemann), is just as aequipotential as the blastula: that any part of these organs can be removed without affecting the development of the rest into a normal and proportionate embryonic part, except for its smaller size.
If the single phases of differentiation are to be regarded as effects, we must ask for the causes, or stimuli, of these effects. For a full account of the subject we refer to Herbst, by whom also the whole botanical literature, much more Formative stimuli. important than the zoological, is critically reviewed. We have already seen that when the blastula represents an aequipotential system, there must be some sort of primary organization of the egg, recoverable after disturbances, that directs and localizes the formation of the first embryonic organs; we do not know much about this organization. Directive stimuli (Richtungsreize) play a great role in ontogeny; Herbst has analysed many cases where their existence is probable. They have been experimentally proved in two cases. The chromatic cells of the yolk sac of Fundulus are attracted by the oxygen of the arteriae (Loeb); the mesenchyme cells of Echinus are attracted by some specific parts of the ectoderm, for they move towards them also when removed from their original positions to any point of the blastocoel by shaking (Driesch). Many directive stimuli might 331 be discovered by a careful study of grafting experiments, such as have been made by Born, Joest, Harrison and others, but at present these experiments have not been carried out far enough to get exact results.
If we consider the individual phases of differentiation as effects, we need to identify the causes or triggers of these effects. For a comprehensive overview of the topic, we refer to Herbst, who provides a critical review of the entire botanical literature, which is much more important than the zoological literature. We have already established that when the blastula functions as an equipotential system, there must be some primary organization of the egg that can be restored after disturbances and that directs and localizes the formation of the first embryonic organs; we don’t know much about this organization. Directive stimuli play a significant role in development; Herbst has analyzed many cases where their presence is likely. They have been experimentally demonstrated in two instances. The chromatic cells of the yolk sac of Fundulus are attracted by the oxygen in the arteries (Loeb); the mesenchyme cells of Echinus are drawn towards specific parts of the ectoderm, as they still move toward them even when removed from their original positions to any location in the blastocoel by shaking (Driesch). A number of directive stimuli could be discovered through careful study of grafting experiments conducted by Born, Joest, Harrison, and others, but currently, these experiments haven’t been conducted extensively enough to yield precise results.
Formative stimuli in a narrower meaning of the word, i.e. stimuli affecting the origin of embryonic organs, have long been known in botany; in zoology we know (especially from Loeb) a good deal about the influence of light, gravitation, contact, &c., on the formation of organs in hydroids, but these forms are very plant-like in many respects; as to free-living animals, Herbst proved that the formation of the arms of the pluteus larva depends on the existence of the calcareous tetrahedra, and made in other cases (lens of vertebrate eye, nerves and muscles, &c.) the existence of formative stimuli very probable. Many of the facts generally known as functional adaptation (functionelle Anpassung—Roux) in botany and zoology may also belong to this category, i.e. be the effects of some external stimulus, but they are far from having been analysed in a satisfactory manner. That the structure of parts of the vertebrate skeleton is always in relation to their function, even under abnormal conditions, is well known; what is the real “cause” of differentiation in this case is difficult to say.
Formative stimuli in a more specific sense, i.e. stimuli that influence the development of embryonic organs, have been recognized in botany for a long time. In zoology, we have learned a lot (especially from Loeb) about how factors like light, gravity, and contact affect organ formation in hydroids, which share many characteristics with plants. Regarding free-living animals, Herbst demonstrated that the formation of the arms of the pluteus larva depends on the presence of calcareous tetrahedra, and he suggested that formative stimuli likely play a role in other instances (such as the lens of the vertebrate eye, nerves, and muscles, etc.). Many well-known cases of functional adaptation (functionelle Anpassung—Roux) in botany and zoology may also fall into this category, i.e. being effects of some external stimulus, but they have yet to be thoroughly analyzed. It is widely understood that the structure of parts of the vertebrate skeleton is always related to their function, even in abnormal conditions; however, pinpointing the real “cause” of differentiation in this context is challenging.
It is obvious that we cannot answer the question why the different ontogenetic effects are just what they are. Developmental physiology takes the specific nature of form for granted, and it may be left for a really rational theory Specific characters. of the evolution of species in the future to answer the problem of species, as far as it is answerable at all. What we intend to do here is only to say in a few words wherein consists the specific character of embryonic organs. That embryonic parts are specific or typical in regard to their protoplasm is obvious, and is well proved by the fact that the different parts of the embryo react differently to the same chemical or other reagents (Herbst, Loeb). That they may be typical also in regard to their nuclei was shown by Boveri for the generative cells of Ascaris; we are not able at present to say anything definite about the importance of this fact. The specific nature of an embryonic organ consists to a high degree in the number of cells composing it; it was shown for many cases that this number, and also the size of cells, is constant under constant conditions, and that under inconstant conditions the number is variable, the size constant; for instance, embryos which have developed from one of the two first blastomeres show only half the normal number of cells in their organs (Morgan, Driesch).
It’s clear that we can’t answer why the different developmental effects are what they are. Developmental physiology assumes the specific nature of form, and it might take a genuinely rational theory of species evolution in the future to tackle the problem of species, if it can be answered at all. What we aim to do here is briefly explain what makes embryonic organs specific. It’s obvious that embryonic parts are specific or typical in terms of their protoplasm, as shown by the fact that different parts of the embryo respond differently to the same chemicals or other substances (Herbst, Loeb). Boveri demonstrated that they may also be typical concerning their nuclei in the generative cells of Ascaris; however, we currently can't determine the significance of this fact. The specificity of an embryonic organ largely depends on the number of cells that make it up; it has been shown in many cases that this number, as well as the size of the cells, is constant under stable conditions, and that under unstable conditions, the number is variable while the size remains constant. For example, embryos that develop from one of the first two blastomeres have only half the normal number of cells in their organs (Morgan, Driesch).
We have learnt that the successive steps of embryonic development are to be regarded as effects, caused by stimuli, which partly exist in the embryo itself. But it must be noted that not every part of the embryo is dependent on every Self-differentiation. other one, but that there exists a great independence of the parts, to a varying degree in every case. This partial independence has been called self-differentiation (Selbstdifferenzierung) by Roux, and is certainly a characteristic feature of ontogeny. At the same time it must not be forgotten that the word is only relative, and that it only expresses our recognition of a negation.
We have learned that the sequential stages of embryonic development should be seen as effects caused by stimuli that are partly present in the embryo itself. However, it’s important to note that not every part of the embryo relies on every other part; there is a significant level of independence among the parts, varying in degree in each case. This partial independence is referred to as self-differentiation (Selbstdifferenzierung) by Roux and is certainly a key characteristic of ontogeny. At the same time, we should remember that the term is only relative and simply reflects our acknowledgment of a negation.
For instance, we know that the ectoderm of Echinus may develop further if the endoderm is taken away; in other words, that it develops by self-differentiation in regard to the endoderm, that its differentiation is not dependent on the endoderm; but it would be obviously more important to know the factors on which this differentiation is actually dependent than to know one factor on which it is not. The same is true for all other experiments on “self-differentiation,” whether analytical (Loeb, Schaper, Driesch) or not (grafting experiments, Born, Joest, &c.).
For example, we know that the ectoderm of Echinus can develop further if the endoderm is removed; in other words, it can differentiate by itself without relying on the endoderm. However, it's clearly more important to understand the factors that actually influence this differentiation rather than just knowing one factor it doesn’t depend on. This applies to all other experiments on “self-differentiation,” whether they are analytical (Loeb, Schaper, Driesch) or not (grafting experiments, Born, Joest, etc.).
Can we understand differentiation by means of the laws of natural phenomena offered to us by physics and chemistry? Most people would say yes, though not yet. Driesch has tried to show that we are absolutely not able to Vitalism. understand development, at any rate one part of it, i.e. the localization of the various successive steps of differentiation. But it is impossible to give any idea of this argument in a few words, and we can only say here that it is based on the experiments upon isolated blastomeres, &c., and on an analysis of the character of aequipotential systems. In this way physiology of development would lead us straight on into vitalism.
Can we understand differentiation through the natural laws presented by physics and chemistry? Most people would agree, but not yet. Driesch has attempted to demonstrate that we are completely unable to understand development, at least one part of it, namely the localization of the various successive stages of differentiation. However, it's impossible to explain this argument briefly, and we can only say here that it relies on experiments with isolated blastomeres, etc., and on an analysis of the nature of aequipotential systems. In this way, the physiology of development would lead us directly into vitalism.
References.—An account of the subject, with full literature, is given by H. Driesch, Resultate und Probleme der Entwicklungsphysiologie der Tiere in Ergebnissen der Anat. u. Entw.-Gesch. (1899). Other works are: C.H. Davenport, Experimental Morphology (New York, 1897-1899); Y. Delage, La Structure du protoplasma, &c. (1895); Driesch, Mathem. mech. Betrachtung morpholog. Probleme (Jena, 1891); Entwicklungsmechan. Studien (1891-1893); Analytische Theorie d. organ. Entw. (Leipzig, 1894); Studien über d. Regulationsvermögen (1897-1900), &c.; C. Herbst, “Über die Bedeutung d. Reizphysiologie für die kausale Auffassung von Vorgängen i. d. tier. Ontogenese,” Biolog. Centralblatt, vols. xiv. u. xv. (Leipzig, 1894). Many papers on influence of salts on development in Arch. f. Entw.-Mech.; O. Hertwig, Papers in Arch. f. mikr. Anat., “Die Zelle und die Gewebe,” ii. (Jena, 1897); W. His, Unsere Körperform (Leipzig, 1875); J. Loeb, Untersuch. z. physiol. Morph. (Würzburg, 1891-1892). Papers in Arch. f. Entw.-Mech. and Pflüger’s Archiv; T.H. Morgan, The Development of the Frog’s Egg (New York, 1897); Papers in Arch. f. Entw.-Mech.; Roux, Gesammelte Abhandlungen (Leipzig, 1895); Papers in Arch. f. Entw.-Mech.; A. Weismann, Das Keimplasma (Jena, 1892); E.B. Wilson, papers in Journ. Morph., “The Cell in Development and Inheritance” (New York, 1896).
References.—A comprehensive account of the subject, along with extensive literature, is provided by H. Driesch, Results and Problems of Developmental Physiology of Animals in Results of Anatomy and Development. (1899). Other notable works include: C.H. Davenport, Experimental Morphology (New York, 1897-1899); Y. Delage, The Structure of Protoplasm, etc. (1895); Driesch, Mathematical-Mechanical Considerations on Morphological Problems (Jena, 1891); Developmental Mechanical Studies (1891-1893); Analytical Theory of Organic Development (Leipzig, 1894); Studies on Regulatory Abilities (1897-1900), etc.; C. Herbst, “On the Significance of Stimulus Physiology for the Causal Understanding of Events in Animal Ontogenesis,” Biological Centralblatt, vols. xiv. and xv. (Leipzig, 1894). Numerous articles about the impact of salts on development can be found in Archives for Developmental Mechanics; O. Hertwig, Papers in Archives for Microanatomy, “The Cell and Tissues,” ii. (Jena, 1897); W. His, Our Body Shape (Leipzig, 1875); J. Loeb, Investigations on Physiological Morphology (Würzburg, 1891-1892). Articles in Archives for Developmental Mechanics and Pflüger’s Archiv; T.H. Morgan, The Development of the Frog’s Egg (New York, 1897); Articles in Archives for Developmental Mechanics; Roux, Collected Papers (Leipzig, 1895); Articles in Archives for Developmental Mechanics; A. Weismann, The Germ Plasm (Jena, 1892); E.B. Wilson, papers in Journal of Morphology, “The Cell in Development and Inheritance” (New York, 1896).
1 In the mammalia the word foetus is often employed in the same signification as embryo; it is especially applied to the embryo in the later stages of uterine development.
1 In mammals, the term foetus is often used to mean the same as embryo; it particularly refers to the embryo during the later stages of development in the uterus.
2 It may be proper to mention, as authors of this period who made special researches on the development of the embryo—(1) Volcher Coiter of Groningen, who, along with Aldrovandus of Bologna, made a series of observations on the formation of the chick, day by day, in the incubated egg, which were described in a work published in 1573, and (2) Hieronymus Fabricius (ab Aquapendente), who, in his work De formato foetu, first published at Padua in 1600, gave an interesting account, illustrated by many fine engravings, of uterogestation and the foetus of a number of quadrupeds and other animals, and in a posthumous work entitled De formatione ovi et pulli, edited by J. Prevost and published at Padua in 1621, described and illustrated by engravings the daily changes of the egg in incubation. It is enough, however, to say that Fabricius was entirely ignorant of the earlier phenomena of development which occur in the first two or three days, and even of the source of the embryonic rudiments, which he conceived to spring, not from the yolk or true ovum, but from the chalazae or twisted, deepest part of the white. The cicatricula he looked upon as merely the vestige of the pedicle by which the yolk had previously been attached to the ovary.
2 It’s worth mentioning some authors from this time who conducted special research on embryo development: (1) Volcher Coiter from Groningen, who, along with Aldrovandus from Bologna, observed the daily formation of the chick inside the incubated egg, which they described in a work published in 1573, and (2) Hieronymus Fabricius (ab Aquapendente), who, in his book De formato foetu, first published in Padua in 1600, provided an interesting account, illustrated with many beautiful engravings, of uterogestation and the fetus of various quadrupeds and other animals. In a posthumous work titled De formatione ovi et pulli, edited by J. Prevost and published in Padua in 1621, he described and illustrated with engravings the daily changes of the egg during incubation. However, it’s important to note that Fabricius was completely unaware of the early developmental phenomena that occur in the first two or three days, as well as the origin of the embryonic rudiments, which he believed came not from the yolk or the true ovum, but from the chalazae, the twisted, deepest part of the white. He viewed the cicatricula as merely a remnant of the pedicle that had previously connected the yolk to the ovary.
3 Along with the work of W. Hunter must be mentioned a large collection of unpublished observations by Dr James Douglas, which are preserved in the Hunterian Museum of Glasgow University.
3 In addition to W. Hunter's work, a substantial collection of unpublished observations by Dr. James Douglas is kept in the Hunterian Museum at Glasgow University.
EMDEN, a maritime town of Germany, in the Prussian province of Hanover, near the mouth of the Ems, 49 m. N.W. from Oldenburg by rail. Pop. (1885) 14,019; (1905) 20,754. The Ems once flowed beneath its walls, but is now 2 m. distant, and connected with the town by a broad and deep canal, divided into the inner (or dock) harbour and the outer (or “free port”) harbour. The latter is ¾ m. in length, has a breadth of nearly 400 ft., and since the construction of the Ems-Jade and Dortmund-Ems canals, has been deepened to 38 ft., thus allowing the largest sea-going vessels to approach its wharves. The town is intersected by canals (crossed by numerous bridges), which bring it into communication with most of the towns in East Friesland, of which it is the commercial capital. The waterways which traverse and surround it and the character of its numerous gabled medieval houses give it the appearance of an old Dutch, rather than of a German, town. Of its churches the most noteworthy are the Reformed “Great Church” (Grosse Kirche), a large Gothic building completed in 1455, containing the tomb of Enno II. (d. 1540), count of East Friesland; the Gasthauskirche, formerly the church of a Franciscan friary founded in 1317; and the Neue Kirche (1643-1647). Of its secular buildings, the Rathaus (town-hall), built in 1574-1576, on the model of that of Antwerp, with a lofty tower, and containing an interesting collection of arms and armour, is particularly remarkable. There are numerous educational institutions, including classical and modern schools, and schools of commerce, navigation and telegraphy. The town has two interesting museums. Emden is the seat of an active trade in agricultural produce and live-stock, horses, timber, coal, tea and wine. The deep-sea fishing industry of the town is important, the fishing fleet in 1902 numbering 67 vessels. Machinery, cement, cordage, wire ropes, tobacco, leather, &c. are manufactured. Emden is also of importance as the station of the submarine cables connecting Germany with England, North America and Spain. It has a regular steamboat service with Borkum and Norderney.
EMDEN is a maritime town in Germany, located in the Prussian province of Hanover, near the mouth of the Ems River, 49 miles northwest from Oldenburg by train. Its population was 14,019 in 1885 and grew to 20,754 by 1905. The Ems River once flowed right beside the town, but it's now 2 miles away, connected by a wide and deep canal that splits into the inner (dock) harbor and the outer (free port) harbor. The outer harbor is ¾ mile long, almost 400 feet wide, and has been deepened to 38 feet thanks to the construction of the Ems-Jade and Dortmund-Ems canals, allowing large ocean-going vessels to dock at its wharves. The town is crisscrossed by canals with many bridges, linking it to most towns in East Friesland, where it serves as the commercial capital. The network of waterways and the many gabled medieval buildings give it a look more reminiscent of an old Dutch town than a German one. Notable churches include the Reformed “Great Church” (Grosse Kirche), a large Gothic structure completed in 1455 that houses the tomb of Enno II (d. 1540), count of East Friesland; the Gasthauskirche, which was previously part of a Franciscan friary established in 1317; and the Neue Kirche (1643-1647). Among its secular buildings, the Rathaus (town hall), built from 1574 to 1576 modeled after the one in Antwerp, features a tall tower and showcases an intriguing collection of arms and armor. The town has various educational institutions, including classical and modern schools, as well as schools for commerce, navigation, and telegraphy. Emden also boasts two fascinating museums. The town is a hub for the trade of agricultural products, livestock, horses, timber, coal, tea, and wine. Its deep-sea fishing industry is significant, with a fishing fleet of 67 vessels in 1902. It manufactures machinery, cement, cordage, wire ropes, tobacco, leather, and more. Emden is also key as the station for submarine cables connecting Germany with England, North America, and Spain. It has a regular steamboat service to Borkum and Norderney.
Emden (Emuden, Emetha) is first mentioned in the 12th century, when it was the capital of the Eemsgo (Emsgau, or county of the Ems), one of the three hereditary countships into which East Friesland had been divided by the emperor. In 1252 the countship was sold to the bishops of Münster; but their rule soon became little more than nominal, and in Emden itself the family of Abdena, the episcopal provosts and castellans, established their practical independence. Towards the end of the 14th century the town gained a considerable trade owing to the permission given by the provost to the pirates known as “Viktualienbrüder” to make it their market, after they had been driven out of Gothland by the Teutonic Order. In 1402, after the defeat of the pirates off Heligoland by the fleet of Hamburg, Emden was besieged, but it was not reduced by Hamburg, with the aid of Edzard Cirksena of Greetsyl, until 1431. The town was held jointly by its captors till 1453, when Hamburg sold 332 its rights to Ulrich Cirksena, created count of East Friesland by the emperor Frederick III. in 1454. In 1544 the Reformation was introduced, and in the following years numerous Protestant refugees from the Low Countries found their way to the town. In 1595 Emden became a free imperial city under the protection of Holland, and was occupied by a Dutch garrison until 1744 when, with East Friesland, it was transferred to Prussia. In 1810 Emden became the chief town of the French department of Ems Oriental; in 1815 it was assigned to Hanover, and in 1866 was annexed with that kingdom by Prussia.
Emden (Emuden, Emetha) is first mentioned in the 12th century when it served as the capital of the Eemsgo (Emsgau, or county of the Ems), one of the three hereditary counties into which East Friesland was divided by the emperor. In 1252, the county was sold to the bishops of Münster; however, their control quickly became mostly symbolic, and in Emden itself, the Abdena family, along with the episcopal provosts and castellans, established their practical independence. By the end of the 14th century, the town experienced significant trade because the provost allowed the pirates known as the "Viktualienbrüder" to use it as their market after they were expelled from Gothland by the Teutonic Order. In 1402, following the defeat of the pirates off Heligoland by the Hamburg fleet, Emden was besieged, but Hamburg, with the assistance of Edzard Cirksena of Greetsyl, was unable to take it until 1431. The town was jointly held by its captors until 1453 when Hamburg sold its rights to Ulrich Cirksena, who was made the count of East Friesland by Emperor Frederick III in 1454. The Reformation was introduced in 1544, and in the following years, many Protestant refugees from the Low Countries arrived in the town. In 1595, Emden became a free imperial city under the protection of Holland and was occupied by a Dutch garrison until 1744, when it was transferred to Prussia along with East Friesland. In 1810, Emden became the main town of the French department of Ems Oriental; in 1815, it was assigned to Hanover, and in 1866, it was annexed by Prussia along with that kingdom.
See Fürbringer, Die Stadt Emden in Gegenwart und Vergangenheit (Emden, 1892).
See Fürbringer, Die Stadt Emden in Gegenwart und Vergangenheit (Emden, 1892).
EMERALD, a bright green variety of beryl, much valued as a gem-stone. The word comes indirectly from the Gr. σμάραγδος (Arabic zumurrud), but this seems to have been a name vaguely given to a number of stones having little in common except a green colour. Pliny’s “smaragdus” undoubtedly included several distinct species. Much confusion has arisen with respect to the “emerald” of the Scriptures. The Hebrew word nōphek, rendered emerald in the Authorized Version, probably meant the carbuncle: it is indeed translated ἄνθραξ in the Septuagint, and a marginal reading in the Revised Version gives carbuncle. On the other hand, the word bāreqath, rendered σμάραγδος in the LXX., appears in the A.V. as carbuncle, with the alternative reading of emerald in the R.V. It may have referred to the true emerald, but Flinders Petrie suggests that it meant rock-crystal.
EMERALD, is a bright green type of beryl that is highly valued as a gemstone. The word comes indirectly from the Greek emerald (Arabic zumurrud), but it seems to have been a general term used for various stones that mainly share a green color. Pliny’s “smaragdus” certainly included multiple distinct types. There has been a lot of confusion regarding the “emerald” mentioned in the Scriptures. The Hebrew word nōphek, translated as emerald in the Authorized Version, likely referred to the carbuncle: it is indeed translated as coal in the Septuagint, and a note in the Revised Version suggests carbuncle. Conversely, the word bāreqath, rendered as emerald in the LXX, appears as carbuncle in the A.V. with an alternative reading of emerald in the R.V. It could have denoted the true emerald, but Flinders Petrie proposes that it actually referred to rock-crystal.
The properties of emerald are mostly the same as those described under Beryl. The crystals often show simply the hexagonal prism and basal plane. The prisms cleave, though imperfectly, at right angles to the geometrical axis; and hexagonal slices were formerly worn in the East. Compared with most gems, the emerald is rather soft, its hardness (7.5) being but slightly above that of quartz. The specific gravity is low, varying slightly in stones from different localities, but being for the Muzo emerald about 2.67. The refractive and dispersive powers are not high, so that the cut stones display little brilliancy or “fire.” The emerald is dichroic, giving in the dichroscope a bluish-green and a yellowish-green image. The magnificent colour which gives extraordinary value to this gem, is probably due to chromium. F. Wöhler found 0.186% of Cr2O3 in the emerald of Muzo,—a proportion which, though small, is sufficient to impart an emerald-green colour to glass. The stone loses colour when strongly heated, and M. Lewy suggested that the colour was due to an organic pigment. Greville Williams showed that emeralds lost about 9% of their weight on fusion, the specific gravity being reduced to about 2.4.
The properties of emerald are mostly the same as those described under Beryl. The crystals typically show just the hexagonal prism and basal plane. The prisms can cleave, though imperfectly, at right angles to the geometrical axis, and hexagonal slices were once worn in the East. Compared to most gems, the emerald is relatively soft, with a hardness of 7.5, which is only slightly higher than that of quartz. The specific gravity is low, varying slightly in stones from different areas, but for the Muzo emerald, it’s around 2.67. The refractive and dispersive powers are not very high, so cut stones show little brilliance or “fire.” The emerald is dichroic, displaying a bluish-green and a yellowish-green image in the dichroscope. The stunning color that gives this gem exceptional value is likely due to chromium. F. Wöhler found 0.186% of Cr2O3 in the emerald from Muzo, a small amount that is still enough to give glass an emerald-green color. The stone loses color when heated strongly, and M. Lewy suggested that the color may come from an organic pigment. Greville Williams demonstrated that emeralds lost about 9% of their weight when fused, with the specific gravity dropping to about 2.4.
The ancients appear to have obtained the emerald from Upper Egypt, where it is said to have been worked as early as 1650 B.C. It is known that Greek miners were at work in the time of Alexander the Great, and in later times the mines yielded their gems to Cleopatra. Remains of extensive workings were discovered in the northern Etbai by the French traveller, F. Cailliaud, in 1817, and the mines were re-opened for a short time under Mehemet Ali. “Cleopatra’s Mines” are situated in Jebel Sikait and Jebel Zabara near the Red Sea coast east of Assuan. They were visited in 1891 by E.A. Floyer, and the Sikait workings were explored in 1900 by D.A. MacAlister and others. The Egyptian emeralds occur in mica-schist and talc-schist.
The ancient people seem to have sourced emeralds from Upper Egypt, where they were reportedly mined as early as 1650 BCE It's known that Greek miners were active during the time of Alexander the Great, and later, the mines produced gems for Cleopatra. Extensive mining remains were found in the northern Etbai by the French traveler, F. Cailliaud, in 1817, and the mines were reopened briefly under Mehemet Ali. “Cleopatra’s Mines” are located in Jebel Sikait and Jebel Zabara near the Red Sea coast, east of Assuan. They were visited in 1891 by E.A. Floyer, and the Sikait workings were explored in 1900 by D.A. MacAlister and others. The Egyptian emeralds are found in mica-schist and talc-schist.
On the Spanish conquest of South America vast quantities of emeralds were taken from the Peruvians, but the exact locality which yielded the stones was never discovered. The only South American emeralds now known occur near Bogotà, the capital of Colombia. The most famous mine is at Muzo, but workings are known also at Coscuez and Somondoco. The emerald occurs in nests of calcite in a black bituminous limestone containing ammonites of Lower Cretaceous age. The mineral is associated with quartz, dolomite, pyrites, and the rare mineral called “parisite”—a fluo-carbonate of the cerium metals, occurring in brownish-yellow hexagonal crystals, and named after J.J. Paris, who worked the emeralds. It has been suggested that the Colombian emerald is not in its original matrix. The fine stones are called cañutillos and the inferior ones morallion.
On the Spanish conquest of South America, a huge amount of emeralds were taken from the Peruvians, but the exact location where the stones came from was never found. The only South American emeralds we know of today are near Bogotá, the capital of Colombia. The most well-known mine is at Muzo, although there are also operations at Coscuez and Somondoco. The emeralds are found in pockets of calcite within a black bituminous limestone that contains ammonites from the Lower Cretaceous period. The mineral appears alongside quartz, dolomite, pyrite, and a rare mineral called “parisite”—a fluo-carbonate of cerium metals that forms brownish-yellow hexagonal crystals and is named after J.J. Paris, who worked with the emeralds. Some suggest that Colombian emeralds are not in their original matrix. High-quality stones are referred to as cañutillos and lower quality ones as morallion.
In 1830 emeralds were accidentally discovered in the Ural Mountains. At the present time they are worked on the river Takovaya, about 60 m. N.E. of Ekaterinburg, where they occur in mica-schist, associated with aquamarine, alexandrite, phenacite, &c. Emerald is found also in mica-schist in the Habachthal, in the Salzburg Alps, and in granite at Eidsvold in Norway. Emerald has been worked in a vein of pegmatite, piercing slaty rocks, near Emmaville, in New South Wales. The crystals occurred in association with topaz, fluorspar and cassiterite; but they were mostly of rather pale colour. In the United States, emerald has occasionally been found, and fine crystals have been obtained from the workings for hiddenite at Stonypoint, Alexander county, N.C.
In 1830, emeralds were accidentally discovered in the Ural Mountains. Nowadays, they are mined along the Takovaya River, about 60 miles northeast of Ekaterinburg, where they are found in mica schist, along with aquamarine, alexandrite, phenacite, and others. Emeralds are also found in mica schist in the Habachthal, located in the Salzburg Alps, and in granite at Eidsvold in Norway. Emeralds have been extracted from a pegmatite vein cutting through slaty rocks near Emmaville, New South Wales. The crystals were found alongside topaz, fluorspar, and cassiterite, but they were mostly rather light in color. In the United States, emeralds have occasionally been discovered, with fine crystals sourced from the hiddenite mines at Stonypoint, Alexander County, N.C.
Many virtues were formerly ascribed to the emerald. When worn, it was held to be a preservative against epilepsy, it cured dysentery, it assisted women in childbirth, it drove away evil spirits, and preserved the chastity of the wearer. Administered internally it was reputed to have great medicinal value. In consequence of its refreshing green colour it was naturally said to be good for the eyesight.
Many virtues were once attributed to the emerald. When worn, it was believed to protect against epilepsy, cure dysentery, help women during childbirth, repel evil spirits, and maintain the chastity of the wearer. Taken internally, it was thought to have significant medicinal benefits. Because of its refreshing green color, it was also said to be good for eyesight.
The stone known as “Oriental emerald” is a green corundum. Lithia emerald is the mineral called hiddenite; Uralian emerald is a name given to demantoid; Brazilian emerald is merely green tourmaline; evening emerald is the peridot; pyro-emerald is fluorspar which phosphoresces with a green glow when heated; and “mother of emerald” is generally a green quartz or perhaps in some cases a green felspar.
The stone referred to as "Oriental emerald" is a green corundum. Lithia emerald is the mineral known as hiddenite; Uralian emerald is a term used for demantoid; Brazilian emerald is simply green tourmaline; evening emerald is peridot; pyro-emerald is fluorspar that glows green when heated; and "mother of emerald" usually refers to green quartz or, in some cases, green feldspar.
See Aquamarine, Beryl.
See Aquamarine, Beryl.
ÉMERIC-DAVID, TOUSSAINT-BERNARD (1755-1839), French archaeologist and writer on art, was born at Aix, in Provence, on the 20th of August 1755. He was destined for the legal profession, and having gone in 1775 to Paris to complete his legal education, he acquired there a taste for art which influenced his whole future career, and he went to Italy, where he continued his art studies. He soon returned, however, to his native village, and followed for some time the profession of an advocate; but in 1787 he succeeded his uncle Antoine David as printer to the parlement. He was elected mayor of Aix in 1791; and although he speedily resigned his office, he was in 1793 threatened with arrest, and had for some time to adopt a vagrant life. When danger was past he returned to Aix, sold his printing business, and engaged in general commercial pursuits; but he was not long in renouncing these also, in order to devote himself exclusively to literature and art. From 1809 to 1814, under the Empire, he represented his department in the Lower House (Corps législatif); in 1814 he voted for the downfall of Napoleon; in 1815 he retired into private life, and in 1816 he was elected a member of the Institute. He died in Paris on the 2nd of April 1839. Émeric-David was placed in 1825 on the commission appointed to continue L’Histoire littéraire de la France. His principal works are Recherches sur l’art statuaire, considéré chez les anciens et les modernes (Paris, 1805), a work which obtained the prize of the Institute; Suite d’études calquées et dessinées d’après cinq tableaux de Raphaël (Paris, 1818-1821), in 6 vols. fol.; Jupiter, ou recherches sur ce dieu, sur son culte, &c. (Paris, 1833), 2 vols. 8vo, illustrated; and Vulcain (Paris, 1837).
ÉMERIC-DAVID, TOUSSAINT-BERNARD (1755-1839), French archaeologist and art writer, was born in Aix, Provence, on August 20, 1755. He was meant for a career in law, and after moving to Paris in 1775 to finish his legal education, he developed a passion for art that shaped his entire future. He went to Italy to further his art studies but soon returned to his hometown, where he practiced as a lawyer for a time. In 1787, he took over his uncle Antoine David's role as printer for the parliament. He was elected mayor of Aix in 1791, but quickly resigned. In 1793, he was threatened with arrest and lived as a wanderer for a while. Once the danger passed, he returned to Aix, sold his printing business, and began various commercial ventures, but soon gave those up to focus entirely on literature and art. From 1809 to 1814, during the Empire, he served as a representative for his department in the Lower House (Corps législatif); in 1814, he voted for Napoleon's downfall, and in 1815, he withdrew from public life. In 1816, he was elected to the Institute. He passed away in Paris on April 2, 1839. Émeric-David was appointed in 1825 to the commission that continued L’Histoire littéraire de la France. His main works include Recherches sur l’art statuaire, considéré chez les anciens et les modernes (Paris, 1805), which won the Institute's prize; Suite d’études calquées et dessinées d’après cinq tableaux de Raphaël (Paris, 1818-1821), in 6 volumes; Jupiter, ou recherches sur ce dieu, sur son culte, &c. (Paris, 1833), 2 volumes, illustrated; and Vulcain (Paris, 1837).
EMERITUS (Lat. from emereri, to serve out one’s time, to earn thoroughly), a term used of Roman soldiers and public officials who had earned their discharge from the service, a veteran, and hence applied, in modern times, to a university professor (professor emeritus) who has vacated his chair, on account of long service, age or infirmity, and, in the Presbyterian church, to a minister who has for like reason given up his charge.
EMERITUS (Lat. from emereri, to serve out one’s time, to earn thoroughly), a term used for Roman soldiers and public officials who had completed their service, a veteran, and now commonly refers to a university professor (professor emeritus) who has retired from his position due to long service, age, or health issues, and in the Presbyterian church, to a minister who has similarly stepped down from his duties.
EMERSON, RALPH WALDO (1803-1882), American poet and essayist, was born in Boston, Massachusetts, on the 25th of May 1803. Seven of his ancestors were ministers of New England churches. Among them were some of those men of mark who made the backbone of the American character: the sturdy Puritan, Peter Bulkeley, sometime rector of Odell in Bedfordshire, and afterward pastor of the church in the wilderness at Concord, New Hampshire; the zealous evangelist, Father Samuel Moody of Agamenticus in Maine, who pursued graceless sinners even 333 into the alehouse; Joseph Emerson of Malden, “a heroic scholar,” who prayed every night that no descendant of his might ever be rich; and William Emerson of Concord, Mass., the patriot preacher, who died while serving in the army of the Revolution. Sprung from such stock, Emerson inherited qualities of self-reliance, love of liberty, strenuous virtue, sincerity, sobriety and fearless loyalty to ideals. The form of his ideals was modified by the metamorphic glow of Transcendentalism which passed through the region of Boston in the second quarter of the 19th century. But the spirit in which Emerson conceived the laws of life, reverenced them and lived them out, was the Puritan spirit, elevated, enlarged and beautified by the poetic temperament.
EMERSON, RALPH WALDO (1803-1882), American poet and essayist, was born in Boston, Massachusetts, on May 25, 1803. Seven of his ancestors were ministers in New England churches. Among them were notable figures who represented the core of the American character: the sturdy Puritan, Peter Bulkeley, who was once the rector of Odell in Bedfordshire and later the pastor of the church in the wilderness in Concord, New Hampshire; the passionate evangelist, Father Samuel Moody of Agamenticus in Maine, who sought out unrepentant sinners even 333 in the tavern; Joseph Emerson of Malden, “a heroic scholar,” who prayed every night that none of his descendants would ever be wealthy; and William Emerson of Concord, Mass., the patriotic preacher who died while fighting in the Revolutionary War. Coming from such lineage, Emerson inherited qualities of self-reliance, love of freedom, diligent virtue, sincerity, moderation, and unwavering loyalty to ideals. The form of his ideals was shaped by the transformative influence of Transcendentalism that swept through the Boston area in the mid-19th century. However, the spirit in which Emerson understood, honored, and lived by the laws of life was the Puritan spirit, elevated, expanded, and enriched by his poetic nature.
His father was the Rev. William Emerson, minister of the First Church (Unitarian) in Boston. Ralph Waldo was the fourth child in a family of eight, of whom at least three gave evidence of extraordinary mental powers. He was brought up in an atmosphere of hard work, of moral discipline, and (after his father’s death in 1811) of that wholesome self-sacrifice which is a condition of life for those who are poor in money and rich in spirit. His aunt, Miss Mary Moody Emerson, a brilliant old maid, an eccentric saint, was a potent factor in his education. Loving him, believing in his powers, passionately desiring for him a successful career, but clinging with both hands to the old forms of faith from which he floated away, this solitary, intense woman did as much as any one to form, by action and reaction, the mind and character of the young Emerson. In 1817 he entered Harvard College, and graduated in 1821. In scholarship he ranked about the middle of his class. In literature and oratory he was more distinguished, receiving a Boylston prize for declamation, and two Bowdoin prizes for dissertations, the first essay being on “The Character of Socrates” and the second on “The Present State of Ethical Philosophy”—both rather dull, formal, didactic productions. He was fond of reading and of writing verse, and was chosen as the poet for class-day. His cheerful serenity of manner, his tranquil mirthfulness, and the steady charm of his personality made him a favourite with his fellows, in spite of a certain reserve. His literary taste was conventional, including the standard British writers, with a preference for Shakespeare among the poets, Berkeley among the philosophers, and Montaigne (in Cotton’s translation) among the essayists. His particular admiration among the college professors was the stately rhetorician, Edward Everett; and this predilection had much to do with his early ambition to be a professor of rhetoric and elocution.
His father was the Rev. William Emerson, minister of the First Church (Unitarian) in Boston. Ralph Waldo was the fourth child in a family of eight, of whom at least three showed signs of extraordinary intelligence. He grew up in an environment of hard work, moral discipline, and, after his father’s death in 1811, a strong sense of self-sacrifice that those who are poor in money but rich in spirit often experience. His aunt, Miss Mary Moody Emerson, a brilliant old maid and an eccentric saint, played a significant role in his education. She loved him, believed in his potential, and passionately wished for him to have a successful career, while still holding on tightly to the old beliefs from which he drifted away. This intense, solitary woman greatly influenced the development of the young Emerson’s mind and character through her actions and reactions. In 1817, he entered Harvard College and graduated in 1821. Academically, he ranked about the middle of his class. In literature and oratory, he was more distinguished, earning a Boylston prize for declamation and two Bowdoin prizes for essays, the first on “The Character of Socrates” and the second on “The Present State of Ethical Philosophy”—both rather dull, formal, and didactic works. He enjoyed reading and writing poetry and was chosen as the poet for class day. His cheerful, calm demeanor, tranquil sense of humor, and consistent charm made him popular among his peers, despite a certain reserve. His literary taste was conventional, favoring standard British authors, with Shakespeare as his favorite poet, Berkeley among philosophers, and Montaigne (in Cotton’s translation) among essayists. He particularly admired the eloquent professor Edward Everett, and this preference influenced his early ambition to become a professor of rhetoric and elocution.
Immediately after graduation he became an assistant in his brother William’s school for young ladies in Boston, and continued teaching, with much inward reluctance and discomfort, for three years. The routine was distasteful; he despised the superficial details which claimed so much of his time. The bonds of conventionalism were silently dissolving in the rising glow of his poetic nature. Independence, sincerity, reality, grew more and more necessary to him. His aunt urged him to seek retirement, self-reliance, friendship with nature; to be no longer “the nursling of surrounding circumstances,” but to prepare a celestial abode for the muse. The passion for spiritual leadership stirred within him. The ministry seemed to offer the fairest field for its satisfaction. In 1825 he entered the divinity school at Cambridge, to prepare himself for the Unitarian pulpit. His course was much interrupted by ill-health. His studies were irregular, and far more philosophical and literary than theological.
Immediately after graduation, he became an assistant at his brother William’s school for young ladies in Boston and continued teaching, feeling a lot of inner reluctance and discomfort, for three years. The routine was unpleasant; he hated the superficial details that took up so much of his time. The constraints of convention were silently fading away in the growing light of his poetic nature. Independence, sincerity, and authenticity became increasingly important to him. His aunt encouraged him to seek solitude, self-reliance, and a connection with nature; to no longer be “the nursling of surrounding circumstances,” but to create a heavenly space for the muse. A passion for spiritual leadership began to stir within him. The ministry seemed to provide the best opportunity for fulfilling that desire. In 1825, he entered the divinity school at Cambridge to prepare for the Unitarian pulpit. His studies were frequently interrupted by health issues. His coursework was irregular and leaned much more toward philosophy and literature than theology.
In October 1826 he was “approbated to preach” by the Middlesex Association of Ministers. The same year a threatened consumption compelled him to take a long journey in the south. Returning in 1827, he continued his studies, preached as a candidate in various churches, and improved in health. In 1829 he married a beautiful but delicate young woman, Miss Ellen Tucker of Concord, and was installed as associate minister of the Second Church (Unitarian) in Boston. The retirement of his senior colleague soon left him the sole pastor. Emerson’s early sermons were simple, direct, unconventional. He dealt freely with the things of the spirit. There was a homely elevation in his discourses, a natural freshness in his piety, a quiet enthusiasm in his manner, that charmed thoughtful hearers. Early in 1832 he lost his wife, a sorrow that deeply depressed him in health and spirits. Following his passion for independence and sincerity, he arrived at the conviction that the Lord’s Supper was not intended by Christ to be a permanent sacrament. To him, at least, it had become an outgrown form. He was willing to continue the service only if the use of the elements should be dropped and the rite made simply an act of spiritual remembrance. Setting forth these views, candidly and calmly, in a sermon, he found his congregation, not unnaturally, reluctant to agree with him, and therefore retired, not without some disappointment, from the pastoral office. He never again took charge of a parish; but he continued to preach, as opportunity offered, until 1847. In fact, he was always a preacher, though of a singular order. His supreme task was to befriend and guide the inner life of man.
In October 1826, he was “approved to preach” by the Middlesex Association of Ministers. That same year, a health scare made him take a long trip to the South. When he returned in 1827, he continued his studies, preached as a candidate in various churches, and improved his health. In 1829, he married a beautiful but fragile young woman, Miss Ellen Tucker of Concord, and was appointed as associate minister of the Second Church (Unitarian) in Boston. The retirement of his senior colleague soon left him as the sole pastor. Emerson’s early sermons were simple, direct, and unconventional. He spoke openly about spiritual matters. There was a down-to-earth elevation in his messages, a natural freshness in his faith, and a quiet enthusiasm in his manner that captivated thoughtful listeners. Early in 1832, he lost his wife, which deeply affected his health and spirits. Following his passion for independence and authenticity, he came to believe that the Lord’s Supper was not meant by Christ to be a permanent sacrament. For him, it had become an outdated practice. He was willing to continue the service only if the use of the elements was dropped and the rite was simply an act of spiritual remembrance. Presenting these views honestly and calmly in a sermon, he found his congregation, understandably, hesitant to agree, and so he stepped down from his pastoral role, not without some disappointment. He never again took charge of a parish but continued to preach whenever he had the chance until 1847. In fact, he was always a preacher, though of a unique kind. His main purpose was to support and guide the inner life of humanity.
The strongest influences in his development about this time were the liberating philosophy of Coleridge, the mystical visions of Swedenborg, the intimate poetry of Wordsworth, and the stimulating essays of Carlyle. On Christmas Day 1832 he took passage in a sailing vessel for the Mediterranean. He travelled through Italy, visited Paris, spent two months in Scotland and England, and saw the four men whom he most desired to see—Landor, Coleridge, Carlyle and Wordsworth. “The comfort of meeting such men of genius as these,” he wrote, “is that they talk sincerely.” But he adds that he found all four of them, in different degrees, deficient in insight into religious truth. His visit to Carlyle, in the lonely farm-house at Craigenputtock, was the memorable beginning of a lifelong friendship. Emerson published Carlyle’s first books in America. Carlyle introduced Emerson’s Essays into England. The two men were bound together by a mutual respect deeper than a sympathy of tastes, and a community of spirit stronger than a similarity of opinions. Emerson was a sweet-tempered Carlyle, living in the sunshine. Carlyle was a militant Emerson, moving amid thunderclouds. The things that each most admired in the other were self-reliance, directness, moral courage. A passage in Emerson’s Diary, written on his homeward voyage, strikes the keynote of his remaining life. “A man contains all that is needful to his government within himself.... All real good or evil that can befall him must be from himself.... There is a correspondence between the human soul and everything that exists in the world; more properly, everything that is known to man. Instead of studying things without, the principles of them all may be penetrated into within him.... The purpose of life seems to be to acquaint man with himself.... The highest revelation is that God is in every man.” Here is the essence of that intuitional philosophy, commonly called Transcendentalism. Emerson disclaimed allegiance to that philosophy. He called it “the saturnalia, or excess of faith.” His practical common sense recoiled from the amazing conclusions which were drawn from it by many of its more eccentric advocates. His independence revolted against being bound to any scheme or system of doctrine, however nebulous. He said: “I wish to say what I feel and think to-day, with the proviso that to-morrow perhaps I shall contradict it all.” But this very wish commits him to the doctrine of the inner light. All through his life he navigated the Transcendental sea, piloted by a clear moral sense, warned off the rocks by the saving grace of humour, and kept from capsizing by a good ballast of New England prudence.
The biggest influences on his development around this time were Coleridge's liberating philosophy, Swedenborg's mystical visions, Wordsworth's intimate poetry, and Carlyle's thought-provoking essays. On Christmas Day in 1832, he boarded a sailing ship for the Mediterranean. He traveled through Italy, visited Paris, spent two months in Scotland and England, and met the four men he most wanted to see—Landor, Coleridge, Carlyle, and Wordsworth. “The joy of meeting such genius,” he wrote, “is that they speak honestly.” However, he noted that he found all four to varying degrees lacking in understanding of religious truth. His visit to Carlyle at his secluded farmhouse in Craigenputtock marked the beginning of a lifelong friendship. Emerson published Carlyle’s first books in America, and Carlyle introduced Emerson’s Essays to England. The two men were connected by a mutual respect that went deeper than shared tastes, and a bond of spirit stronger than similar opinions. Emerson was like a warm-hearted Carlyle, living in the sunshine, while Carlyle was an intense Emerson, moving through storms. Each admired in the other qualities like self-reliance, straightforwardness, and moral courage. A line in Emerson’s Diary, written on his way home, captures the essence of his future: “A man has everything he needs for his own management within himself.... All real good or evil that can happen to him must come from himself.... There’s a connection between the human soul and everything that exists in the world; more accurately, everything that is known to humanity. Instead of studying things outside, the principles of all can be understood within him.... The purpose of life seems to be to help man understand himself.... The highest truth is that God exists in every man.” This is the core of the intuitional philosophy often called Transcendentalism. Emerson distanced himself from that philosophy, describing it as “the excess of faith.” His practical common sense recoiled from the wild conclusions drawn by many of its more unconventional proponents. His independence resisted being tied to any doctrine or belief system, no matter how vague. He stated: “I want to express what I feel and think today, with the caveat that tomorrow I might completely contradict it.” Yet this very desire ties him to the idea of inner light. Throughout his life, he navigated the Transcendental waters, guided by a clear moral sense, avoiding pitfalls with the saving grace of humor, and kept steady by a solid foundation of New England practicality.
After his return from England in 1833 he went to live with his mother at the old manse in Concord, Mass., and began his career as a lecturer in Boston. His first discourses were delivered before the Society of Natural History and the Mechanics’ Institute. They were chiefly on scientific subjects, approached in a poetic spirit. In the autumn of 1835 he married Miss Lydia Jackson of Plymouth, having previously purchased a spacious old house and garden at Concord. There he spent the remainder of his life, a devoted husband, a wise and tender father, a careful house-holder, a virtuous villager, a friendly neighbour, and, spite of all his disclaimers, the central and luminous figure among the 334 Transcendentalists. The doctrine which in others seemed to produce all sorts of extravagances—communistic experiments at Brook Farm and Fruitlands, weird schemes of political reform, long hair on men and short hair on women—in his sane, well-balanced nature served only to lend an ideal charm to the familiar outline of a plain, orderly New England life. Some mild departures from established routine he tranquilly tested and as tranquilly abandoned. He tried vegetarianism for a while, but gave it up when he found that it did him no particular good. An attempt to illustrate household equality by having the servants sit at table with the rest of the family was frustrated by the dislike of his two sensible domestics for such an inconvenient arrangement. His theory that manual labour should form part of the scholar’s life was checked by the personal discovery that hard labour in the fields meant poor work in the study. “The writer shall not dig,” was his practical conclusion. Intellectual independence was what he chiefly desired; and this, he found, could be attained in a manner of living not outwardly different from that of the average college professor or country minister. And yet it was to this property-holding, debt-paying, law-abiding, well-dressed, courteous-mannered citizen of Concord that the ardent and enthusiastic turned as the prophet of the new idealism. The influence of other Transcendental teachers, Dr Hedge, Dr Ripley, Bronson Alcott, Orestes Brownson, Theodore Parker, Margaret Fuller, Henry Thoreau, Jones Very, was narrow and parochial compared with that of Emerson. Something in his imperturbable, kindly presence, his angelic look, his musical voice, his commanding style of thought and speech, announced him as the possessor of the great secret which many were seeking—the secret of a freer, deeper, more harmonious life. More and more, as his fame spread, those who “would live in the spirit” came to listen to the voice, and to sit at the feet, of the Sage of Concord.
After returning from England in 1833, he moved in with his mother at the old manse in Concord, Mass., and started his career as a lecturer in Boston. His first talks were given to the Society of Natural History and the Mechanics’ Institute. They mainly focused on scientific topics, approached in a poetic way. In the fall of 1835, he married Miss Lydia Jackson from Plymouth and had previously bought a spacious old house and garden in Concord. There he spent the rest of his life as a devoted husband, a wise and caring father, a responsible homeowner, a good villager, a friendly neighbor, and, despite all his denials, the central and radiant figure among the 334 Transcendentalists. The doctrine that seemed to lead others to all sorts of extremes—communal experiments at Brook Farm and Fruitlands, bizarre political reform ideas, long hair for men and short hair for women—only added an ideal charm to the familiar outline of a simple, orderly New England life in his balanced and sensible nature. He calmly tried some mild deviations from the established routine and just as calmly let them go. He experimented with vegetarianism for a bit but stopped when he realized it didn't really benefit him. An effort to show household equality by having the servants eat at the table with the family was thwarted by his two reasonable household staff who didn’t like such an impractical arrangement. His belief that manual labor should be part of a scholar’s life was challenged by his realization that hard work in the fields meant poor quality work in the study. “The writer shall not dig,” was his practical conclusion. What he primarily desired was intellectual independence, which he found could be achieved in a lifestyle that wasn’t outwardly different from that of the average college professor or country minister. Yet, it was this property-owning, debt-paying, law-abiding, well-dressed, polite citizen of Concord that the passionate and enthusiastic turned to as the prophet of new idealism. The influence of other Transcendental teachers like Dr. Hedge, Dr. Ripley, Bronson Alcott, Orestes Brownson, Theodore Parker, Margaret Fuller, Henry Thoreau, and Jones Very was limited and local compared to Emerson’s. Something about his calm, kind presence, his angelic demeanor, his melodious voice, and his commanding way of thinking and speaking announced him as the keeper of the great secret many sought—the secret of a freer, deeper, more harmonious life. As his fame grew, more people who wanted to “live in the spirit” came to listen to his voice and learn from the Sage of Concord.
It was on the lecture-platform that he found his power and won his fame. The courses of lectures that he delivered at the Masonic Temple in Boston, during the winters of 1835 and 1836, on “Great Men,” “English Literature,” and “The Philosophy of History,” were well attended and admired. They were followed by two discourses which commanded for him immediate recognition, part friendly and part hostile, as a new and potent personality. His Phi Beta Kappa oration at Harvard College in August 1837, on “The American Scholar,” was an eloquent appeal for independence, sincerity, realism, in the intellectual life of America. His address before the graduating class of the divinity school at Cambridge, in 1838, was an impassioned protest against what he called “the defects of historical Christianity” (its undue reliance upon the personal authority of Jesus, and its failure to explore the moral nature of man as the fountain of established teaching), and a daring plea for absolute self-reliance and a new inspiration of religion. “In the soul,” he said, “let redemption be sought. Wherever a man comes, there comes revolution. The old is for slaves. Go alone. Refuse the good models, even those which are sacred in the imagination of men. Cast conformity behind you, and acquaint men at first hand with Deity.” In this address Emerson laid his hand on the sensitive point of Unitarianism, which rejected the divinity of Jesus, but held fast to his supreme authority. A blaze of controversy sprang up at once. Conservatives attacked him; Radicals defended him. Emerson made no reply. But amid this somewhat fierce illumination he went forward steadily as a public lecturer. It was not his negations that made him popular; it was the eloquence with which he presented the positive side of his doctrine. Whatever the titles of his discourses, “Literary Ethics,” “Man the Reformer,” “The Present Age,” “The Method of Nature,” “Representative Men,” “The Conduct of Life,” their theme was always the same, namely, “the infinitude of the private man.” Those who thought him astray on the subject of religion listened to him with delight when he poetized the commonplaces of art, politics, literature or the household. His utterance was Delphic, inspirational. There was magic in his elocution. The simplicity and symmetry of his sentences, the modulations of his thrilling voice, the radiance of his fine face, even his slight hesitations and pauses over his manuscript, lent a strange charm to his speech. For more than a generation he went about the country lecturing in cities, towns and villages, before learned societies, rustic lyceums and colleges; and there was no man on the platform in America who excelled him in distinction, in authority, or in stimulating eloquence.
It was on the lecture stage that he discovered his power and gained his fame. The lecture series he delivered at the Masonic Temple in Boston during the winters of 1835 and 1836, focusing on “Great Men,” “English Literature,” and “The Philosophy of History,” drew large audiences and received admiration. These were followed by two talks that quickly established him as a notable and influential figure, attracting both supporters and critics. His Phi Beta Kappa speech at Harvard College in August 1837, titled “The American Scholar,” was a powerful call for independence, sincerity, and realism in America’s intellectual life. His address to the graduating class of the divinity school at Cambridge in 1838 was an impassioned critique of what he referred to as “the defects of historical Christianity” (its excessive dependence on the personal authority of Jesus and its failure to examine the moral nature of humanity as the basis of established teachings), along with a bold plea for complete self-reliance and a fresh inspiration for religion. “In the soul,” he declared, “let redemption be sought. Wherever a person goes, there comes revolution. The old is for the oppressed. Go alone. Reject the good examples, even those that are sacred in people’s imaginations. Cast conformity aside, and let people experience the divine directly.” In this speech, Emerson touched a sensitive nerve in Unitarianism, which denied the divinity of Jesus but maintained his supreme authority. Immediately, a firestorm of controversy erupted. Conservatives criticized him; radicals defended him. Emerson did not respond. Yet amid this intense scrutiny, he continued his work as a public lecturer. It wasn't his rejections that made him popular; it was the eloquence with which he expressed the positive aspects of his beliefs. Regardless of the titles of his talks, such as “Literary Ethics,” “Man the Reformer,” “The Present Age,” “The Method of Nature,” “Representative Men,” and “The Conduct of Life,” their underlying message was always the same: “the infinitude of the individual.” Those who disagreed with his views on religion found delight in his poetic take on everyday topics in art, politics, literature, or domestic life. His delivery was deep and inspirational. There was a certain magic in how he spoke. The simplicity and balance of his sentences, the variations in his captivating voice, the brilliance of his expressive face, and even his slight pauses over his notes added an intriguing charm to his speech. For over a generation, he traveled the country lecturing in cities, towns, and villages, before scholarly societies, local lyceums, and colleges; no one else on the American lecture circuit matched his distinction, authority, or inspirational eloquence.
In 1847 Emerson visited Great Britain for the second time, was welcomed by Carlyle, lectured to appreciative audiences in Manchester, Liverpool, Edinburgh and London, made many new friends among the best English people, paid a brief visit to Paris, and returned home in July 1848. “I leave England,” he wrote, “with increased respect for the Englishman. His stuff or substance seems to be the best in the world. I forgive him all his pride. My respect is the more generous that I have no sympathy with him, only an admiration.” The impressions of this journey were embodied in a book called English Traits, published in 1856. It might be called “English Traits and American Confessions,” for nowhere does Emerson’s Americanism come out more strongly. But the America that he loved and admired was the ideal, the potential America. For the actual conditions of social and political life in his own time he had a fine scorn. He was an intellectual Brahmin. His principles were democratic, his tastes aristocratic. He did not like crowds, streets, hotels—“the people who fill them oppress me with their excessive civility.” Humanity was his hero. He loved man, but be was not fond of men. He had grave doubts about universal suffrage. He took a sincere interest in social and political reform, but towards specific “reforms” his attitude was somewhat remote and visionary. On the subject of temperance he held aloof from the intemperate methods of the violent prohibitionists. He was a believer in woman’s rights, but he was lukewarm towards conventions in favour of woman suffrage. Even in regard to slavery he had serious hesitations about the ways of the abolitionists, and for a long time refused to be identified with them. But as the irrepressible conflict drew to a head Emerson’s hesitation vanished. He said in 1856, “I think we must get rid of slavery, or we must get rid of freedom.” With the outbreak of the Civil War he became an ardent and powerful advocate of the cause of the Union. James Russell Lowell said, “To him more than to all other causes did the young martyrs of our Civil War owe the sustaining strength of thoughtful heroism that is so touching in every record of their lives.”
In 1847, Emerson visited Great Britain for the second time. He was welcomed by Carlyle and gave lectures to enthusiastic audiences in Manchester, Liverpool, Edinburgh, and London. He made many new friends among the best English people, paid a brief visit to Paris, and returned home in July 1848. “I leave England,” he wrote, “with increased respect for the Englishman. His character seems to be the best in the world. I forgive him all his pride. My respect is more generous because I have no sympathy with him, only admiration.” The impressions from this journey were captured in a book called English Traits, published in 1856. It could also be called “English Traits and American Confessions,” as Emerson’s American perspective is very strong throughout. However, the America he loved and admired was the ideal, the potential America. He had a sharp disdain for the actual conditions of social and political life during his time. He was an intellectual Brahmin. His principles were democratic, but his tastes were aristocratic. He disliked crowds, streets, and hotels—“the people who fill them overwhelm me with their excessive politeness.” Humanity was his hero. He loved humanity but was not fond of individuals. He had serious doubts about universal suffrage. He had a genuine interest in social and political reform but approached specific “reforms” with a somewhat detached and visionary attitude. Regarding temperance, he distanced himself from the forceful methods of the extreme prohibitionists. He believed in women’s rights but was not enthusiastic about campaigns for women’s suffrage. Even concerning slavery, he had significant reservations about the abolitionists' approaches and long refused to associate with them. However, as the unavoidable conflict escalated, Emerson's hesitation disappeared. He stated in 1856, “I think we must get rid of slavery, or we must get rid of freedom.” With the onset of the Civil War, he became a passionate and strong advocate for the Union's cause. James Russell Lowell remarked, “To him more than to all other causes did the young martyrs of our Civil War owe the sustaining strength of thoughtful heroism that is so moving in every record of their lives.”
Emerson the essayist was a condensation of Emerson the lecturer. His prose works, with the exception of the slender volume entitled Nature (1836), were collected and arranged from the manuscripts of his lectures. His method of writing was characteristic. He planted a subject in his mind, and waited for thoughts and illustrations to come to it, as birds or insects to a plant or flower. When an idea appeared, he followed it, “as a boy might hunt a butterfly”; when it was captured he pinned it in his “Thought-book”. The writings of other men he used more for stimulus than for guidance. He said that books were for the scholar’s idle times. “I value them,” he said, “to make my top spin.” His favourite reading was poetry and mystical philosophy: Shakespeare, Dante, George Herbert, Goethe, Berkeley, Coleridge, Swedenborg, Jakob Boehme, Plato, the new Platonists, and the religious books of the East (in translation). Next to these he valued books of biography and anecdote: Plutarch, Grimm, St Simon, Varnhagen von Ense. He had some odd dislikes, and could find nothing in Aristophanes, Cervantes, Shelley, Scott, Miss Austen, Dickens. Novels he seldom read. He was a follower of none, an original borrower from all. His illustrations were drawn from near and far. The zodiac of Denderah; the Savoyards who carved their pine-forests into toys; the naked Derar, horsed on an idea, charging a troop of Roman cavalry; the long, austere Pythagorean lustrum of silence; Napoleon on the deck of the “Bellerophon,” observing the drill of the English soldiers; the Egyptian doctrine that every man has two pairs of eyes; Empedocles and his shoe; the horizontal stratification of the 335 earth; a soft mushroom pushing its way through the hard ground,—all these allusions and a thousand more are found in the same volume. On his pages, close beside the Parthenon, the Sphinx, St Paul’s, Etna and Vesuvius, you will find the White Mountains, Monadnock, Agiocochook, Katahdin, the pickerel-weed in bloom, the wild geese honking through the sky, the chick-a-dee braving the snow, Wall Street and State Street, cotton-mills, railroads and Quincy granite. For an abstract thinker he was strangely in love with the concrete facts of life. Idealism in him assumed the form of a vivid illumination of the real. From the pages of his teeming note-books he took the material for his lectures, arranging and rearranging it under such titles as Nature, School, Home, Genius, Beauty and Manners, Self-Possession, Duty, The Superlative, Truth, The Anglo-Saxon, The Young American. When the lectures had served their purpose he rearranged the material in essays and published them. Thus appeared in succession the following volumes: Essays (First Series) (1841); Essays (Second Series) (1844); Representative Men (1850); English Traits (1856); The Conduct of Life (1860); Society and Solitude (1870); Letters and Social Aims (1876). Besides these, many other lectures were printed in separate form and in various combinations.
Emerson the essayist was a distilled version of Emerson the lecturer. Except for the slim book titled Nature (1836), his prose works were compiled and organized from his lecture notes. His writing style was distinctive. He would hold a subject in his mind and wait for thoughts and examples to come to it, like birds or insects to a plant or flower. When an idea appeared, he pursued it, “like a boy chasing a butterfly”; when he caught it, he recorded it in his “Thought-book.” He viewed the writings of others more as inspiration than guidance. He claimed that books were for a scholar's spare time. “I value them,” he said, “to make my top spin.” His favorite reading included poetry and mystical philosophy: Shakespeare, Dante, George Herbert, Goethe, Berkeley, Coleridge, Swedenborg, Jakob Boehme, Plato, the Neoplatonists, and religious texts from the East (in translation). After these, he appreciated books on biography and anecdotes: Plutarch, Grimm, St Simon, Varnhagen von Ense. He had some strange dislikes and found nothing appealing in Aristophanes, Cervantes, Shelley, Scott, Miss Austen, or Dickens. He rarely read novels. He followed no one and borrowed original ideas from everyone. His examples came from near and far. The zodiac of Denderah; Savoyards who carved their pine forests into toys; the naked Derar, riding an idea, charging a troop of Roman cavalry; the long, austere Pythagorean silence; Napoleon on the deck of the “Bellerophon,” watching the drills of English soldiers; the Egyptian belief that every person has two pairs of eyes; Empedocles and his shoe; the horizontal layers of the earth; a soft mushroom pushing through the hard ground—all these references and thousands more are found in the same volume. On his pages, next to the Parthenon, the Sphinx, St Paul’s, Etna and Vesuvius, you will find the White Mountains, Monadnock, Agiocochook, Katahdin, blooming pickerel-weed, wild geese honking through the sky, the chick-a-dee braving the snow, Wall Street and State Street, cotton mills, railroads, and Quincy granite. For someone who thought abstractly, he had an odd affection for the concrete realities of life. His idealism manifested as a vivid illumination of the actual. From the pages of his overflowing notebooks, he took the material for his lectures, organizing and reorganizing it under titles like Nature, School, Home, Genius, Beauty and Manners, Self-Possession, Duty, The Superlative, Truth, The Anglo-Saxon, The Young American. When the lectures had served their purpose, he restructured the material into essays and published them. This process resulted in the successive release of the following volumes: Essays (First Series) (1841); Essays (Second Series) (1844); Representative Men (1850); English Traits (1856); The Conduct of Life (1860); Society and Solitude (1870); Letters and Social Aims (1876). In addition to these, many other lectures were published separately and in various combinations.
Emerson’s style is brilliant, epigrammatic, gem-like; clear in sentences, obscure in paragraphs. He was a sporadic observer. He saw by flashes. He said, “I do not know what arguments mean in reference to any expression of a thought.” The coherence of his writing lies in his personality. His work is fused by a steady glow of optimism. Yet he states this optimism moderately. “The genius which preserves and guides the human race indicates itself by a small excess of good, a small balance in brute facts always favourable to the side of reason.”
Emerson’s style is striking, concise, and precious; clear in sentences, but sometimes unclear in paragraphs. He was an occasional observer. He perceived things in bursts of insight. He said, “I do not know what arguments mean in relation to any expression of a thought.” The coherence of his writing comes from his personality. His work is infused with a consistent sense of optimism. Yet he expresses this optimism in a measured way. “The genius that maintains and guides humanity shows itself by a slight excess of good, a small balance in the harsh realities that always favors reason.”
His verse, though in form inferior to his prose, was perhaps a truer expression of his genius. He said, “I am born a poet”; and again, writing to Carlyle, he called himself “half a bard.” He had “the vision,” but not “the faculty divine” which translates the vision into music. In his two volumes of verse (Poems, 1846; May Day and other Pieces, 1867) there are many passages of beautiful insight and profound feeling, some lines of surprising splendour, and a few poems, like “The Rhodora,” “The Snowstorm,” “Ode to Beauty,” “Terminus,” “The Concord Ode,” and the marvellous “Threnody” on the death of his first-born boy, of beauty unmarred and penetrating truth. But the total value of his poetical work is discounted by the imperfection of metrical form, the presence of incongruous images, the predominance of the intellectual over the emotional element, and the lack of flow. It is the material of poetry not thoroughly worked out. But the genius from which it came—the swift faculty of perception, the lofty imagination, the idealizing spirit enamoured of reality—was the secret source of all Emerson’s greatness as a speaker and as a writer. Whatever verdict time may pass upon the bulk of his poetry, Emerson himself must be recognized as an original and true poet of a high order.
His poetry, although not as polished as his prose, might be a more honest reflection of his talent. He claimed, “I am born a poet”; and in a letter to Carlyle, he referred to himself as “half a bard.” He had “the vision,” but lacked “the divine ability” to turn that vision into music. In his two poetry collections (Poems, 1846; May Day and other Pieces, 1867), there are many passages filled with beautiful insights and deep emotions, some lines that shine brightly, and a few poems, like “The Rhodora,” “The Snowstorm,” “Ode to Beauty,” “Terminus,” “The Concord Ode,” and the remarkable “Threnody” for his first-born son, that exhibit unblemished beauty and profound truth. However, the overall worth of his poetic work is diminished by flaws in meter, mismatched images, a tendency for intellect to overshadow emotion, and a lack of smoothness. It is the raw material of poetry that hasn't been fully developed. But the brilliance behind it—the quick perception, the high imagination, and the idealistic spirit that loves reality—was the hidden source of all of Emerson’s greatness as a speaker and a writer. No matter what judgment time may render on the majority of his poetry, Emerson must be acknowledged as an original and true poet of a high caliber.
His latter years were passed in peaceful honour at Concord. In 1866 Harvard College conferred upon him the degree of LL.D., and in 1867 he was elected an overseer. In 1870 he delivered a course of lectures before the university on “The Natural History of the Intellect.” In 1872 his house was burned down, and was rebuilt by popular subscription. In the same year he went on his third foreign journey, going as far as Egypt. About this time began a failure in his powers, especially in his memory. But his character remained serene and unshaken in dignity. Steadily, tranquilly, cheerfully, he finished the voyage of life.
His later years were spent in peaceful honor at Concord. In 1866, Harvard College awarded him the degree of LL.D., and in 1867 he was elected an overseer. In 1870, he gave a series of lectures at the university on “The Natural History of the Intellect.” In 1872, his house burned down and was rebuilt through public donations. That same year, he took his third trip abroad, traveling as far as Egypt. Around this time, he started to experience a decline in his abilities, particularly his memory. However, his character remained calm and dignified. Steadily, peacefully, and cheerfully, he completed the journey of life.
“I trim myself to the storm of time, “I adapt myself to the challenges of time, I man the rudder, reef the sail, I steer the boat and adjust the sail, Obey the voice at eve obeyed at prime: Obey the voice heard in the evening just as you did in the morning: ‘Lowly faithful, banish fear, "Faithful and humble, banish fear," Right onward drive unharmed; Keep driving straight and safe; The port, well worth the cruise, is near. The port, definitely worth the trip, is close. And every wave is charmed.’” And each wave is magical.’” |
Emerson died on the 27th of April 1882, and his body was laid to rest in the peaceful cemetery of Sleepy Hollow, in a grove on the edge of the village of Concord.
Emerson died on April 27, 1882, and his body was buried in the serene Sleepy Hollow cemetery, in a grove on the outskirts of Concord.
Authorities.—Emerson’s Complete Works, Riverside edition, edited by J.E. Cabot (11 vols., Boston, 1883-1884); another edition (London, 5 vols., 1906), by G. Sampson, in Bohn’s “Libraries”; The Correspondence of Thomas Carlyle and Ralph Waldo Emerson, edited by Charles Eliot Norton (Boston, 1883); George Willis Cooke, Ralph Waldo Emerson: His Life, Writings and Philosophy (Boston, 1881); Alexander Ireland, Ralph Waldo Emerson: His Life, Genius and Writings (London, 1882); A. Bronson Alcott, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Philosopher and Seer (Boston, 1882); Moncure Daniel Conway, Emerson at Home and Abroad (Boston, 1882); Joel Benton, Emerson as a Poet (New York, 1883); F.B. Sanborn (editor), The Genius and Character of Emerson: Lectures at the Concord School of Philosophy (Boston, 1885); Oliver Wendell Holmes, Ralph Waldo Emerson (“American Men of Letters” series) (Boston, 1885); James Elliott Cabot, A Memoir of Ralph Waldo Emerson, 2 vols. (the authorized biography) (Boston, 1887); Edward Waldo Emerson, Emerson in Concord (Boston, 1889); Richard Garnett, Life of Ralph Waldo Emerson (London, 1888); G.E. Woodberry, Ralph Waldo Emerson (1907). Critical estimates are also to be found in Matthew Arnold’s Discourses in America, John Morley’s Critical Miscellanies, Henry James’s Partial Portraits, Lowell’s My Study Windows, Birrell’s Obiter Dicta (2nd series), Stedman’s Poets of America, Whipple’s American Literature, &c. There is a Bibliography of Ralph Waldo Emerson, by G.W. Cooke (Boston, 1908).
Authorities.—Emerson’s Complete Works, Riverside edition, edited by J.E. Cabot (11 vols., Boston, 1883-1884); another edition (London, 5 vols., 1906), by G. Sampson, in Bohn’s “Libraries”; The Correspondence of Thomas Carlyle and Ralph Waldo Emerson, edited by Charles Eliot Norton (Boston, 1883); George Willis Cooke, Ralph Waldo Emerson: His Life, Writings and Philosophy (Boston, 1881); Alexander Ireland, Ralph Waldo Emerson: His Life, Genius and Writings (London, 1882); A. Bronson Alcott, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Philosopher and Seer (Boston, 1882); Moncure Daniel Conway, Emerson at Home and Abroad (Boston, 1882); Joel Benton, Emerson as a Poet (New York, 1883); F.B. Sanborn (editor), The Genius and Character of Emerson: Lectures at the Concord School of Philosophy (Boston, 1885); Oliver Wendell Holmes, Ralph Waldo Emerson (“American Men of Letters” series) (Boston, 1885); James Elliott Cabot, A Memoir of Ralph Waldo Emerson, 2 vols. (the authorized biography) (Boston, 1887); Edward Waldo Emerson, Emerson in Concord (Boston, 1889); Richard Garnett, Life of Ralph Waldo Emerson (London, 1888); G.E. Woodberry, Ralph Waldo Emerson (1907). Critical analyses can also be found in Matthew Arnold’s Discourses in America, John Morley’s Critical Miscellanies, Henry James’s Partial Portraits, Lowell’s My Study Windows, Birrell’s Obiter Dicta (2nd series), Stedman’s Poets of America, etc. There is a Bibliography of Ralph Waldo Emerson, by G.W. Cooke (Boston, 1908).
EMERSON, WILLIAM (1701-1782), English mathematician, was born on the 14th of May 1701 at Hurworth, near Darlington, where his father, Dudley Emerson, also a mathematician, taught a school. Unsuccessful as a teacher he devoted himself entirely to studious retirement, and published many works which are singularly free from errata. In mechanics he never advanced a proposition which he had not previously tested in practice, nor published an invention without first proving its effects by a model. He was skilled in the science of music, the theory of sounds, and the ancient and modern scales; but he never attained any excellence as a performer. He died on the 20th of May 1782 at his native village. Emerson was eccentric and indeed clownish, but he possessed remarkable independence of character and intellectual energy. The boldness with which he expressed his opinions on religious subjects led to his being charged with scepticism, but for this there was no foundation.
EMERSON, WILLIAM (1701-1782), an English mathematician, was born on May 14, 1701, in Hurworth, near Darlington, where his father, Dudley Emerson, also a mathematician, ran a school. After struggling as a teacher, he focused entirely on his studies and published many works that were notably free from errors. In mechanics, he never proposed an idea without testing it first or published an invention without demonstrating its effects through a model. He had expertise in music, sound theory, and both ancient and modern scales; however, he never excelled as a performer. He passed away on May 20, 1782, in his hometown. Emerson was eccentric and somewhat humorous, but he had a remarkable level of independence and intellectual drive. The way he boldly shared his views on religion led others to accuse him of skepticism, but there was no basis for such claims.
Emerson’s works include The Doctrine of Fluxions (1748); The Projection of the Sphere, Orthographic, Stereographic and Gnomical (1749); The Elements of Trigonometry (1749); The Principles of Mechanics (1754); A Treatise of Navigation (1755); A Treatise of Algebra, in two books (1765); The Arithmetic of Infinites, and the Differential Method, illustrated by Examples (1767); Mechanics, or the Doctrine of Motion (1769); The Elements of Optics, in four books (1768); A System of Astronomy (1769); The Laws of Centripetal and Centrifugal Force (1769); The Mathematical Principles of Geography (1770); Tracts (1770); Cyclomathesis, or an Easy Introduction to the several branches of the Mathematics (1770), in ten vols.; A Short Comment on Sir Isaac Newton’s Principia; to which is added, A Defence of Sir Isaac against the objections that have been made to several parts of his works (1770); A Miscellaneous Treatise containing several Mathematical Subjects (1776).
Emerson's works include The Doctrine of Fluxions (1748); The Projection of the Sphere, Orthographic, Stereographic, and Gnomical (1749); The Elements of Trigonometry (1749); The Principles of Mechanics (1754); A Treatise of Navigation (1755); A Treatise of Algebra, in two parts (1765); The Arithmetic of Infinites and the Differential Method, Illustrated with Examples (1767); Mechanics, or the Doctrine of Motion (1769); The Elements of Optics, in four parts (1768); A System of Astronomy (1769); The Laws of Centripetal and Centrifugal Force (1769); The Mathematical Principles of Geography (1770); Tracts (1770); Cyclomathesis, or an Easy Introduction to the Various Branches of Mathematics (1770), in ten volumes; A Short Comment on Sir Isaac Newton’s Principia, to which is added, A Defense of Sir Isaac against the Objections Made to Various Parts of His Works (1770); A Miscellaneous Treatise Containing Several Mathematical Subjects (1776).
EMERY (Ger. Smirgel), an impure variety of corundum, much used as an abrasive agent. It was known to the Greeks under the name of σμύρις or σμίρις, which is defined by Dioscorides as a stone used in gem-engraving. The Hebrew word shamir (related to the Egyptian asmir), where translated in our versions of the Old Testament “adamant” and “diamond,” probably signified the emery-stone or corundum.
EMERY (Ger. Smirgel), a mixed type of corundum, widely used as an abrasive material. The Greeks referred to it as smyrna or σμίρις, which Dioscorides described as a stone used for engraving gems. The Hebrew word shamir (related to the Egyptian asmir), when translated in our versions of the Old Testament as “adamant” and “diamond,” likely referred to the emery-stone or corundum.
Emery occurs as a granular or massive, dark-coloured, dense substance, having much the appearance of an iron-ore. Its specific gravity varies with its composition from 3.7 to 4.3. Under the microscope, it is seen to be a mechanical aggregate of corundum, usually in grains or minute crystals of a bluish colour, with magnetite, which also is granular and crystalline. Other iron oxides, like haematite and limonite, may be present as alteration-products of the magnetite. Some of the alumina and iron oxide may occasionally be chemically combined, so as to form an iron spinel, or hercynite. In addition to these minerals emery sometimes contains quartz, mica, tourmaline, cassiterite, &c. Indeed emery may be regarded as a rock rather than a definite mineral species.
Emery is found as a granular or solid, dark-colored, dense material that looks a lot like iron ore. Its specific gravity ranges from 3.7 to 4.3, depending on its composition. Under a microscope, it's seen as a mechanical mixture of corundum, typically in grains or tiny crystals of a bluish hue, along with magnetite, which is also granular and crystalline. Other iron oxides, like hematite and limonite, may show up as alteration products of the magnetite. Some of the alumina and iron oxide might be chemically combined to form iron spinel, or hercynite. Besides these minerals, emery sometimes includes quartz, mica, tourmaline, cassiterite, etc. In fact, emery is more accurately considered a rock than a specific mineral species.
The hardness of emery is about 8, whereas that of pure corundum is 9. The “abrasive power,” or “effective hardness,” of emery is by no means proportional to the amount of alumina which it contains, but seems rather to depend on its physical 336 condition. Thus, taking the effective hardness of sapphire as 100, Dr J. Lawrence Smith found that the emery of Samos with 70.10% of alumina had a corresponding hardness of 56; that of Naxos, with 68.53 of Al2O3, a hardness of 46; and that of Gumach with 77.82 of Al2O3, a hardness of 47.
The hardness of emery is about 8, while pure corundum has a hardness of 9. The "abrasive power" or "effective hardness" of emery isn't directly related to the amount of alumina it contains; it seems to depend more on its physical condition. So, if we take the effective hardness of sapphire as 100, Dr. J. Lawrence Smith found that emery from Samos, which contains 70.10% alumina, has a corresponding hardness of 56; emery from Naxos, with 68.53% Al2O3, has a hardness of 46; and emery from Gumach, with 77.82% Al2O3, has a hardness of 47. 336
Emery has been worked from a very remote period in the Isle of Naxos, one of the Cyclades, whence the stone was called naxium by Pliny and other Roman writers. The mineral occurs as loose blocks and as lenticular masses or irregular beds in granular limestone, associated with crystalline schists. The Naxos emery has been described by Professor G. Tschermak. From a chemical analysis of a sample it has been calculated that the emery contained 52.4% of corundum, 32.1 of magnetite, 11.5 of tourmaline, 2 of muscovite and 2 of margarite.
Emery has been mined for a very long time on the Isle of Naxos, which is part of the Cyclades. The stone was referred to as naxium by Pliny and other Roman writers. The mineral appears as loose blocks and as lenticular masses or irregular deposits within granular limestone, found alongside crystalline schists. Professor G. Tschermak has described Naxos emery. A chemical analysis of a sample showed that the emery contained 52.4% corundum, 32.1% magnetite, 11.5% tourmaline, 2% muscovite, and 2% margarite.
Important deposits of corundum were discovered in Asia Minor by J. Lawrence Smith, when investigating Turkish mineral resources about 1847. The chief sources of emery there are Gumach Dagh, a mountain about 12 m. E. of Ephesus; Kula, near Ala-shehr; and the mines in the hills between Thyra and Cosbonnar, south of Smyrna. The occurrence is similar to that in Naxos. The emery is found as detached blocks in a reddish soil, and as rounded masses embedded in a crystalline limestone associated with mica-schist, gneiss and granite. The proportion of corundum in this emery is said to vary from 37 to 57%. Emery is worked at several localities in the United States, especially near Chester, in Hampden county, Mass., where it is associated with peridotites. The corundum and magnetite are regarded by Dr J.H. Pratt as basic segregations from an igneous magma. The deposits were discovered by H.S. Lucas in 1864.
Important deposits of corundum were discovered in Asia Minor by J. Lawrence Smith while he was investigating Turkish mineral resources around 1847. The main sources of emery there are Gumach Dagh, a mountain about 12 miles east of Ephesus; Kula, near Ala-shehr; and the mines in the hills between Thyra and Cosbonnar, south of Smyrna. This occurrence is similar to that in Naxos. The emery is found as separate blocks in a reddish soil and as rounded masses embedded in crystalline limestone associated with mica-schist, gneiss, and granite. The percentage of corundum in this emery is reported to vary from 37 to 57%. Emery is mined at several locations in the United States, especially near Chester, in Hampden County, Massachusetts, where it is associated with peridotites. Dr. J.H. Pratt considers the corundum and magnetite to be basic segregations from igneous magma. The deposits were discovered by H.S. Lucas in 1864.
The hardness and toughness of emery render it difficult to work, but it may be extracted from the rock by blasting in holes bored with diamond drills. In the East fire-setting is employed. The emery after being broken up is carefully picked by hand, and then ground or stamped, and separated into grades by wire sieves. The higher grades are prepared by washing and eleutriation, the finest being known as “flour of emery.” A very fine emery dust is collected in the stamping room, where it is deposited after floating in the air. The fine powder is used by lapidaries and plate-glass manufacturers. Emery-wheels are made by consolidating the powdered mineral with an agglutinating medium like shellac or silicate of soda or vulcanized india-rubber. Such wheels are not only used by dentists and lapidaries but are employed on a large scale in mechanical workshops for grinding, shaping and polishing steel. Emery-sticks, emery-cloth and emery-paper are made by coating the several materials with powdered emery mixed with glue, or other adhesive media. (See Corundum.)
The hardness and toughness of emery make it tough to work with, but it can be extracted from the rock by blasting holes drilled with diamond bits. In the East, fire-setting is used. After it's broken up, the emery is carefully picked by hand, then ground or stamped, and sorted into grades using wire sieves. The higher grades are cleaned through washing and eleutriation, with the finest known as “flour of emery.” A very fine emery dust is collected in the stamping room, where it settles after floating in the air. This fine powder is used by lapidaries and plate-glass manufacturers. Emery wheels are made by consolidating the powdered mineral with a binding medium like shellac, sodium silicate, or vulcanized rubber. These wheels are used not only by dentists and lapidaries but also on a large scale in mechanical workshops for grinding, shaping, and polishing steel. Emery sticks, emery cloth, and emery paper are made by coating different materials with powdered emery mixed with glue or other adhesives. (See Corundum.)
EMETICS (from Gr. ἐμετικός, causing vomit), the term given to substances which are administered for the purpose of producing vomiting. It is customary to divide emetics into two classes, those which produce their effect by acting on the vomiting centre in the medulla, and those which act directly on the stomach itself. There is considerable confusion in the nomenclature of these two divisions, but all are agreed in calling the former class central emetics, and the latter gastric. The gastric emetics in common use are alum, ammonium carbonate, zinc sulphate, sodium chloride (common salt), mustard and warm water. Copper sulphate has been purposely omitted from this list, since unless it produces vomiting very shortly after administration, being itself a violent gastro-intestinal irritant, some other emetic must promptly be administered. The central emetics are apomorphine, tartar emetic, ipecacuanha, senega and squill. Of these tartar emetic and ipecacuanha come under both heads: when taken by the mouth they act as gastric emetics before absorption into the blood, and later produce a further and more vigorous effect by stimulation of the medullary centre. It must be remembered, however, that, valuable though these drugs are, their action is accompanied by so much depression, they should never be administered except under medical advice.
EMETICS (from Gr. emetic, causing vomit), refers to substances that are used to induce vomiting. Emetics are typically divided into two categories: those that work by acting on the vomiting center in the brainstem, and those that affect the stomach directly. There is some confusion in the terminology between these two groups, but most people agree to call the first group central emetics and the second group gastric. Common gastric emetics include alum, ammonium carbonate, zinc sulfate, sodium chloride (table salt), mustard, and warm water. Copper sulfate is purposely left off this list because if it does not induce vomiting quickly after being taken, it is a strong intestinal irritant and another emetic needs to be given right away. Central emetics include apomorphine, tartar emetic, ipecacuanha, senega, and squill. Tartar emetic and ipecacuanha can fall into both categories: when ingested, they act as gastric emetics before being absorbed into the bloodstream, and later they cause a stronger effect by stimulating the brain center. However, it is important to remember that despite their usefulness, these drugs can also cause significant depression, so they should only be used under a doctor's advice.
Emetics have two main uses: that of emptying the stomach, especially in cases of poisoning, and that of expelling the contents of the air passages, more especially in children before they have learnt or have the strength to expectorate. Where a physician is in attendance, the first of these uses is nearly always replaced by lavage of the stomach, whereby any subsequent depression is avoided. Emetics still have their place, however, in the treatment of bronchitis, laryngitis and diphtheria in children, as they aid in the expulsion of the morbid products. Occasionally also they are administered when a foreign body has got into the larynx. Their use is contra-indicated in the case of anyone suffering from aneurism, hernia or arterio-sclerosis, or where there is any tendency to haemorrhage.
Emetics serve two main purposes: to empty the stomach, especially in cases of poisoning, and to help clear the airways, particularly in children who haven't learned to cough up mucus yet. When a doctor is present, the first purpose is usually replaced by stomach pumping, which helps prevent any further issues. However, emetics still play a role in treating bronchitis, laryngitis, and diphtheria in children because they assist in removing unhealthy substances. Sometimes, they are also used if something gets stuck in the larynx. Their use is not recommended for anyone with an aneurysm, hernia, or arteriosclerosis, or if there’s a risk of bleeding.
EMEU, evidently from the Port. Ema,1 a name which has in turn been applied to each of the earlier-known forms of Ratite birds, but has finally settled upon that which inhabits Australia, though, up to the close of the 18th century, it was given by most authors to the bird now commonly called cassowary—this last word being a corrupted form of the Malayan Suwari (see Crawfurd, Gramm. and Dict. Malay Language, ii. pp. 178 and 25), apparently first printed as Casoaris by Bontius in 1658 (Hist. nat. et med. Ind. Orient. p. 71).
EMEU, clearly from the Port. Ema,1 a name that has been used for each of the previously known types of Ratite birds, but has ultimately settled on the one found in Australia. However, until the end of the 18th century, most authors referred to the bird now commonly known as the cassowary—this last term being a modified version of the Malayan Suwari (see Crawfurd, Gramm. and Dict. Malay Language, ii. pp. 178 and 25), apparently first printed as Casoaris by Bontius in 1658 (Hist. nat. et med. Ind. Orient. p. 71).
![]() |
Fig. 1.—Ceram Cassowary.2 |
The cassowaries (Casuariidae) and emeus (Dromaeidae)—as the latter name is now used—have much structural resemblance, and form the order Megistanes,3 which is peculiar to the Australian Region. Huxley showed (Proc. Zool. Soc., 1867, pp. 422, 423,) that they agree in differing from the other Ratitae in many important characters; one of the most obvious of them is that 337 each contour-feather appears to be double, its hyporachis, or aftershaft, being as long as the main shaft—a feature noticed in the case of either form so soon as examples were brought to Europe. The external distinctions of the two families are, however, equally plain. The cassowaries, when adult, bear a horny helmet on their head; they have some part of the neck bare, generally more or less ornamented with caruncles, and the claw of the inner toe is remarkably elongated. The emeus have no helmet, their head is feathered, their neck has no caruncles, and their inner toes bear a claw of no singular character.
The cassowaries (Casuariidae) and emus (Dromaeidae)—as the latter name is currently used—are structurally similar and belong to the order Megistanes,3 which is unique to the Australian region. Huxley demonstrated (Proc. Zool. Soc., 1867, pp. 422, 423,) that they differ from other Ratitae in several important ways; one of the most noticeable features is that each contour feather seems to be double, with its hyporachis, or aftershaft, being as long as the main shaft—something observed as soon as examples were brought to Europe. The external differences between the two families are also quite clear. Adult cassowaries have a horny helmet on their head; they have a bare section of neck, often adorned with caruncles, and the claw on their inner toe is notably elongated. Emus, on the other hand, lack a helmet, their head is fully feathered, their neck has no caruncles, and their inner toes have a claw that is not particularly distinctive.
![]() |
Fig. 2.—Emeu. |
The type of the Casuariidae is the species named by Linnaeus Struthio casuarius and by John Latham Casuarius emeu. Vieillot subsequently called it C. galeatus, and his epithet has been very commonly adopted by writers, to the exclusion of the older specific appellation. It seems to be peculiar to the island of Ceram, and was made known to naturalists, as we learn from Clusius, in 1597, by the first Dutch expedition to the East Indies, when an example was brought from Banda, whither it had doubtless been conveyed from its native island. It was said to have been called by the inhabitants “Emeu,” or “Ema,” but this name they must have had from the earlier Portuguese navigators.4 Since that time examples have been continually imported into Europe, so that it has become one of the best-known members of the subclass Ratitae. For a long time its glossy, but coarse and hair-like, black plumage, its lofty helmet, the gaudily-coloured caruncles of its neck, and the four or five barbless quills which represent its wing-feathers, made it appear unique among birds. But in 1857 Dr George Bennett certified the existence of a second and perfectly distinct species of cassowary, an inhabitant of New Britain, where it was known to the natives as the Mooruk, and in his honour it was named by John Gould C. bennetti. Several examples were soon after received in England, and these confirmed the view of it already taken. A considerable number of other species of the genus have since been described from various localities in the same subregion. Conspicuous among them from its large size and lofty helmet is the C. australis, from the northern parts of Australia. Its existence indeed had been ascertained, by T.S. Wall, in 1854, but the specimen obtained by that unfortunate explorer was lost, and it was not until 1867 that an example was submitted to competent naturalists.
The type of the Casuariidae is the species named by Linnaeus, Struthio casuarius, and by John Latham, Casuarius emeu. Vieillot later named it C. galeatus, and this name has been widely used by writers, overshadowing the older specific name. It seems to be unique to the island of Ceram, and naturalists learned about it through Clusius in 1597, when the first Dutch expedition to the East Indies brought back a specimen from Banda, where it likely had been transported from its native island. The locals reportedly called it “Emeu” or “Ema,” a name they must have gotten from early Portuguese navigators. Since then, specimens have been consistently imported into Europe, making it one of the best-known members of the subclass Ratitae. For a long time, its shiny yet coarse and hair-like black feathers, tall helmet, brightly colored caruncles on its neck, and the four or five barbless quills that represent its wing feathers made it seem unique among birds. However, in 1857, Dr. George Bennett confirmed the existence of a second and completely distinct species of cassowary, which lived in New Britain, where it was called Mooruk by the natives. In his honor, it was named by John Gould C. bennetti. Several specimens were soon imported to England, which supported the previously held view. Since then, many other species of the genus have been described from various locations in the same subregion. Prominent among them, known for its large size and tall helmet, is C. australis, from northern Australia. Its existence was actually confirmed by T.S. Wall in 1854, but the specimen collected by that unfortunate explorer was lost, and it wasn't until 1867 that a specimen was presented to qualified naturalists.
Not much seems to be known of the habits of any of the cassowaries in a state of nature. Though the old species occurs rather plentifully over the whole of the interior of Ceram, A.R. Wallace was unable to obtain or even to see an example. They all appear to bear captivity well, and the hens in confinement frequently lay their dark-green and rough-shelled eggs, which, according to the custom of the Ratitae, are incubated by the cocks. The nestling plumage is mottled (Proc. Zool. Soc., 1863, pl. xlii.), and when about half-grown they are clothed in dishevelled feathers of a deep tawny colour.
Not much seems to be known about the habits of cassowaries in the wild. Although the older species is found quite commonly throughout the interior of Ceram, A.R. Wallace was unable to obtain or even see one. They all seem to adapt well to captivity, and the hens in confinement often lay their dark-green and rough-shelled eggs, which, following the custom of the Ratitae, are incubated by the males. The nestling feathers are mottled (Proc. Zool. Soc., 1863, pl. xlii.), and when they are about half-grown, they have messy feathers that are a deep tawny color.
Of the emeus (as the word is now restricted) the best known is the Casuarius novae-hollandiae of John Latham, made by Vieillot the type of his genus Dromaeus,5 whence the name of the family (Dromaeidae) is taken. This bird immediately after the colonization of New South Wales (in 1788) was found to inhabit the south-eastern portion of Australia, where, according to John Hunter (Hist. Journ., &c., pp. 409, 413), the natives call it Maracry, Marryang or Maroang; but it has now been so hunted down that not an example remains at large in the districts that have been fully settled. It is said to have existed also on the islands of Bass Straits and in Tasmania, but it has been exterminated in both, without, so far as is known, any ornithologist having had the opportunity of determining whether the race inhabiting those localities was specifically identical with that of the mainland or distinct. Next to the ostrich the largest of existing birds, the common emeu is an inhabitant of the more open country, feeding on fruits, roots and herbage, and generally keeping in small companies. The nest is a shallow pit scraped in the ground, and from nine to thirteen eggs, in colour varying from a bluish-green to a dark bottle-green, are laid therein. These are hatched by the cock-bird, the period of incubation lasting from 70 to 80 days. The young at birth are striped longitudinally with dark markings on a light ground. A remarkable structure in Dromaeus is a singular opening in the front of the windpipe, communicating with a tracheal pouch. This has attracted the attention of several anatomists, and has been well described by Dr Murie (Proc. Zool. Soc., 1867, pp. 405-415). Various conjectures have been made as to its function, the most probable of which seems to be that it is an organ of sound in the breeding-season, at which time the hen-bird has long been known to utter a remarkably loud booming note. Due convenience being afforded to it, the emeu thrives well, and readily propagates its kind in Europe. Like other Ratite birds it will take to the water, and examples have been seen voluntarily swimming a wide river.
Of the emus (as the term is now limited), the most well-known is the Casuarius novae-hollandiae identified by John Latham, which Vieillot used to define his genus Dromaeus,5 from which the family name (Dromaeidae) comes. This bird was found inhabiting the southeastern part of Australia shortly after New South Wales was colonized in 1788. According to John Hunter (Hist. Journ., &c., pp. 409, 413), the locals call it Maracry, Marryang, or Maroang; however, it has now been so hunted that no examples remain in areas that are fully settled. It is believed to have also existed on some islands in Bass Strait and in Tasmania, but it has been wiped out in both places, without any ornithologist having the chance to determine whether the populations there were the same species as those on the mainland or something different. Next to the ostrich, the common emu is the largest living bird, preferring open land and feeding on fruits, roots, and grasses, usually in small groups. The nest is just a shallow pit scraped into the ground, where it lays between nine and thirteen eggs, ranging in color from bluish-green to dark bottle-green. The male incubates these eggs for about 70 to 80 days. The chicks are born with longitudinal stripes that have dark markings against a lighter background. One noteworthy feature of Dromaeus is a unique opening at the front of the windpipe that connects to a tracheal pouch. This has caught the interest of several anatomists and has been described in detail by Dr. Murie (Proc. Zool. Soc., 1867, pp. 405-415). There are various theories regarding its function, with the most likely being that it's used for producing sound during the breeding season, when the female is known to make a remarkably loud booming sound. When given the right environment, emus thrive and reproduce easily in Europe. Like other flightless birds, they can swim, and instances of them willingly crossing wide rivers have been observed.
1 By Moraes (1796) and Sousa (1830) the word is said to be from the Arabic Na’āma or Na’ēma, an ostrich (Struthio camelus); but no additional evidence in support of the assertion is given by Dozy in 1869 (Glossaire des mots espagnols et portugais dérivés de l’arabe, 2nd ed., p. 260). According to Gesner in 1555 (lib. iii. p. 709), it was the Portuguese name of the crane (Grus communis), and had been transferred with the qualifying addition of “di Gei” (i.e. ground-crane) to the ostrich. This statement is confirmed by Aldrovandus (lib. ix. cap. 2). Subsequently, but in what order can scarcely now be determined, the name was naturally enough used for the ostrich-like birds inhabiting the lands discovered by the Portuguese, both in the Old and in the New World. The last of these are now known as rheas, and the preceding as cassowaries.
1 According to Moraes (1796) and Sousa (1830), the word comes from the Arabic Na’āma or Na’ēma, meaning an ostrich (Struthio camelus); however, Dozy in 1869 provided no additional evidence to support this claim in his work (Glossaire des mots espagnols et portugais dérivés de l’arabe, 2nd ed., p. 260). Gesner stated in 1555 (lib. iii. p. 709) that it referred to the Portuguese name for the crane (Grus communis), which had then been adapted with the term “di Gei” (i.e. ground-crane) to describe the ostrich. Aldrovandus (lib. ix. cap. 2) confirmed this statement. Later on, although the exact sequence is unclear now, the name was naturally applied to the ostrich-like birds found in the territories discovered by the Portuguese, both in the Old and the New World. The former are now known as rheas, and the latter as cassowaries.
2 The figures are taken, by permission, from Messrs Mosenthal and Harting’s Ostriches and Ostrich Farming (Trübner & Co., 1877).
2 The figures are used with permission from Mosenthal and Harting’s Ostriches and Ostrich Farming (Trübner & Co., 1877).
5 The obvious misprint of Dromeicus in this author’s work (Analyse, &c., p. 54) was foolishly followed by many naturalists, forgetful that he corrected it a few pages farther on (p. 70) to Dromaius—the properly latinized form of which is Dromaeus.
5 The obvious typo of Dromeicus in this author’s work (Analyse, &c., p. 54) was carelessly repeated by many naturalists, forgetting that he corrected it a few pages later (p. 70) to Dromaius—the correct Latin form is Dromaeus.
EMIGRATION (from Lat. emigrare; e, ex, out of, and migrare, to depart), the movement of population out of one country into another (see Migration).
EMIGRATION (from Latin emigrare; e, ex, meaning out of, and migrare, to depart), refers to the movement of people from one country to another (see Migration).
EMILIA, a territorial division (compartimento) of Italy, bounded by Venetia and Lombardy on the N., Liguria on the W., Tuscany on the S., the Marches on the S.E., and the Adriatic Sea on the E. It has an area of 7967 sq. m., and a population of 2,477,690 (1901), embracing eight provinces, as follows:—(1) Bologna (pop. 529,612; 61 communes); (2) Ferrara (270,558; 16 communes); (3) Forlì (283,996; 41 communes); (4) Modena (323,598; 45 communes); (5) Parma (303,694; 50 communes); (6) Piacenza (250,491; 47 communes); (7) Ravenna (234,656; 18 communes); (8) Reggio nell’ Emilia (281,085; 43 communes). In these provinces the chief towns, with communal populations, are as follows:—
EMILIA is a region in Italy, bordered by Venetia and Lombardy to the north, Liguria to the west, Tuscany to the south, the Marches to the southeast, and the Adriatic Sea to the east. It covers an area of 7,967 square miles and had a population of 2,477,690 in 1901, including eight provinces: (1) Bologna (population 529,612; 61 communes); (2) Ferrara (270,558; 16 communes); (3) Forlì (283,996; 41 communes); (4) Modena (323,598; 45 communes); (5) Parma (303,694; 50 communes); (6) Piacenza (250,491; 47 communes); (7) Ravenna (234,656; 18 communes); (8) Reggio nell’ Emilia (281,085; 43 communes). The main towns in these provinces, along with their populations, are as follows:—
(2) Ferrara (86,675), Copparo (39,222), Argenta (20,474), Portomaggiore (20,141), Cento (19,078), Bondeno (15,682), Comacchio (10,745).
(2) Ferrara (86,675), Copparo (39,222), Argenta (20,474), Portomaggiore (20,141), Cento (19,078), Bondeno (15,682), Comacchio (10,745).
(3) Forlì (43,321), Rimini (43,595). Cesena (42,509).
(3) Forlì (43,321), Rimini (43,595), Cesena (42,509).
(4) Modena (63,012), Carpi (22,876), Mirandola (13,721), Finale nell’ Emilia (12,896), Pavullo nel Frignano (12,034).
(4) Modena (63,012), Carpi (22,876), Mirandola (13,721), Finale nell’ Emilia (12,896), Pavullo nel Frignano (12,034).
(5) Parma (48,523), Borgo S. Donnino (12,019).
(5) Parma (48,523), Borgo S. Donnino (12,019).
(6) Piacenza (35,647).·
Piacenza (35,647).
(7) Ravenna (63,364), Faenza (39,757), Lugo (27,244), Bagnacavallo (15,176), Brisighella (13,815), Alfonsine (10,369).
(7) Ravenna (63,364), Faenza (39,757), Lugo (27,244), Bagnacavallo (15,176), Brisighella (13,815), Alfonsine (10,369).
(8) Reggio nell’ Emilia (58,993), Correggio (14,445), Guastalla (11,091).
(8) Reggio nell’ Emilia (58,993), Correggio (14,445), Guastalla (11,091).
The northern portion of Emilia is entirely formed by a great plain stretching from the Via Aemilia to the Po; its highest point is not more than 200 ft. above sea-level, while along the E. coast are the lagoons at the mouth of the Po and those called the Valli di Comacchio to the S. of them, and to the S. again the plain round Ravenna (10 ft.), which continues as far as Rimini, where the mountains come down to the coast.
The northern part of Emilia is made up of a large plain that stretches from the Via Aemilia to the Po River; its highest point is only about 200 feet above sea level. Along the eastern coast are the lagoons at the mouth of the Po and the Valli di Comacchio to the south of those, and further south is the plain around Ravenna (10 feet), which extends all the way to Rimini, where the mountains meet the coast.
Immediately to the S.E. of the Via Aemilia the mountains begin to rise, culminating in the central chain of the Ligurian and Tuscan Apennines. The boundary of Emilia follows the highest summits of the chain in the provinces of Parma, Reggio and Modena, passing over the Monte Bue (5915 ft.) and the Monte Cimone (7103 ft.), while in the provinces of Bologna and Forlì it keeps somewhat lower along the N.E. slopes of the chain. With the exception of the Po, the main rivers of Emilia descend from this portion of the Apennines, the majority of them being tributaries of the Po; the Trebbia (which rises in the province of Genoa), Taro, Secchia and Panaro are the most important. Even the Reno, Ronco and Montone, which now flow directly into the Adriatic, were, in Roman times, tributaries of the Po, and the Savio and Rubicone seem to be the only streams of any importance from these slopes of the Tuscan Apennines which ran directly into the sea in Roman times (see Apennines).
Immediately to the southeast of the Via Aemilia, the mountains start to rise, reaching their peak in the central chain of the Ligurian and Tuscan Apennines. The boundary of Emilia follows the highest peaks of this chain in the provinces of Parma, Reggio, and Modena, passing over Monte Bue (5915 ft.) and Monte Cimone (7103 ft.), while in the provinces of Bologna and Forlì, it stays a bit lower along the northeast slopes of the chain. Except for the Po, the main rivers of Emilia flow down from this part of the Apennines, most of them being tributaries of the Po; the Trebbia (which originates in the province of Genoa), Taro, Secchia, and Panaro are the most significant. Even the Reno, Ronco, and Montone, which now flow directly into the Adriatic, were tributaries of the Po in Roman times, and the Savio and Rubicone appear to be the only important streams from these slopes of the Tuscan Apennines that flowed directly into the sea during Roman times (see Apennines).
Railway communication in the plain of Emilia is unattended by engineering difficulties (except for the bridging of rivers) and is mainly afforded by the line from Piacenza to Rimini. This, as far as Bologna, forms part of the main route from Milan to Florence and Rome, while beyond Rimini it follows the S.E. coast of Italy past Ancona as far as Brindisi and Lecce. The description follows this main line in a S.E. direction. Piacenza, being immediately S. of a bridge over the Po, is an important centre; a line runs to the W. to Voghera, through which it communicates with the lines of W. Lombardy and Piedmont, and immediately N. of the Po a line goes off to Cremona. A new bridge over the Po carries a direct line from Cremona to Borgo S. Donnino. From Parma starts a main line, followed by expresses from Milan to Rome, which crosses the Apennines to Spezia (and Sarzana, for Pisa and Rome), tunnelling under the pass of La Cisa, while in a N. and N.E. direction lines run to Brescia and Suzzara. From Reggio branch lines run to Guastalla, Carpi and Sassuolo, there being also a line from Sassuolo to Modena. At Modena the main line to Verona through Suzzara and Mantua diverges to the N.; there is also a branch N.N.E. to Mirandola, and another S. to Vignola. Bologna is, however, the most important railway centre; besides the line S. to Pistoia and Florence over the Apennines and the line S.E. to Rimini, Ancona and Brindisi, there is the main line N.N.E. to Ferrara, Padua and Venice, and there are branches to Budrio and Portomaggiore to the N.E., and to S. Felice sul Panaro and Poggio Rusco to the N., which connect the main lines of the district.
Railway communication in the Emilia region is free from engineering challenges (apart from the need to bridge rivers) and is mainly provided by the route from Piacenza to Rimini. This line, all the way to Bologna, is part of the main route connecting Milan to Florence and Rome, while beyond Rimini it runs along the southeastern coast of Italy past Ancona, extending to Brindisi and Lecce. The description follows this main line southeastward. Piacenza, located just south of a bridge over the Po River, is a key hub; a line branches west to Voghera, linking it to the railways of western Lombardy and Piedmont, and immediately north of the Po, another line leads to Cremona. A new bridge across the Po carries a direct line from Cremona to Borgo S. Donnino. From Parma, a main line begins, serviced by express trains from Milan to Rome, which crosses the Apennines to Spezia (and Sarzana, for Pisa and Rome), tunneling under the La Cisa pass, while lines in a north and northeast direction connect to Brescia and Suzzara. From Reggio, branch lines go to Guastalla, Carpi, and Sassuolo, with an additional line from Sassuolo to Modena. At Modena, the main line to Verona through Suzzara and Mantua diverges northward; there is also a branch heading north-northeast to Mirandola, and another heading south to Vignola. Bologna, however, is the most significant railway hub; in addition to the line south to Pistoia and Florence over the Apennines and the line southeast to Rimini, Ancona, and Brindisi, there’s a main line heading north-northeast to Ferrara, Padua, and Venice, along with branches to Budrio and Portomaggiore to the northeast, and to S. Felice sul Panaro and Poggio Rusco to the north, connecting the main lines of the area.
At Castel Bolognese, 5 m. N.W. of Faenza, a branch goes off to Lugo, whence there are connexions with Budrio, Lavezzola (on the line between Ravenna and Ferrara) and Ravenna, and at Faenza a line, not traversed by express trains, goes across the Apennines to Florence. Rimini is connected by a direct line with Ravenna and Ferrara; and Ferrara, besides the main line S.S.W. to Bologna and N. by E. to Padua, has a branch to Poggio Rusco, which goes on to Suzzara, a station on the main line between Modena and Verona. There are also many steam tramways in the flatter part of the province, the fertility and agricultural activity of which are considerable. The main products of the plain are cereals, wine, and, in the marshy districts near the Po, rice; the system prevailing is that of the mezzadria—half the produce to the owner and half to the cultivator. The ancient Roman divisions of the fields are still preserved in some places. There are also considerable pastures, and cheese is produced, especially Parmesan. Flax, hemp and silkworms are also cultivated, and a considerable quantity of poultry kept. The hill districts produce cereals, vines, olives and fruit; while on the mountains are considerable chestnut and other forests, and extensive summer pastures, the flocks going in part to the Maremma in summer, and in part to the pastures of the plain of the Emilia.
At Castel Bolognese, 5 miles northwest of Faenza, a branch line goes to Lugo, where you can connect to Budrio, Lavezzola (on the route between Ravenna and Ferrara), and Ravenna. In Faenza, there's a line that isn't used by express trains which crosses the Apennines to Florence. Rimini is directly connected to Ravenna and Ferrara; additionally, Ferrara has a main line southwest to Bologna and northeast to Padua, along with a branch to Poggio Rusco that continues to Suzzara, a station on the main line between Modena and Verona. There are also several steam tramways in the flatter areas of the province, which is known for its rich soil and active agriculture. The main products of the plains include cereals, wine, and rice in the marshy areas near the Po. The common system here is mezzadria—where the owner gets half the harvest and the cultivator gets the other half. Some ancient Roman field divisions still exist in certain areas. There are also large pastures where cheese, particularly Parmesan, is made. Flax, hemp, and silkworms are cultivated as well, and a significant number of poultry are raised. The hilly regions produce cereals, grapes, olives, and fruit, while the mountains have substantial chestnut and other forests, along with large summer pastures, with flocks partly moving to the Maremma in summer and partly to the flat pastures of Emilia.
The name Emilia comes from the Via Aemilia (q.v.), the Roman road from Ariminum to Placentia, which traversed the entire district from S.E. to N.W., its line being closely followed by the modern railway. The name was transferred to the district (which formed the eighth Augustan region of Italy) as early as the time of Martial, in popular usage (Epigr. vi. 85. 5), and in the 2nd and 3rd centuries it is frequently named as a district under imperial judges (iuridici), generally in combination with Flaminia or Liguria and Tuscia. The district of Ravenna was, as a rule, from the 3rd to the 5th century, not treated as part of Aemilia, the chief town of the latter being Placentia. In the 4th century Aemilia and Liguria were joined to form a consular province; after that Aemilia stood alone, Ravenna being sometimes temporarily added to it. The boundaries of the ancient district correspond approximately with those of the modern.
The name Emilia comes from the Via Aemilia (q.v.), the Roman road that ran from Ariminum to Placentia, crossing the entire area from southeast to northwest, a route that closely follows the modern railway. The name was applied to the region (which was the eighth Augustan region of Italy) as early as the time of Martial, in common use (Epigr. vi. 85. 5), and in the 2nd and 3rd centuries, it was often mentioned as a district governed by imperial judges (iuridici), usually alongside Flaminia or Liguria and Tuscia. Typically, from the 3rd to the 5th century, the district of Ravenna was not considered part of Aemilia, with the main town of Aemilia being Placentia. In the 4th century, Aemilia and Liguria were combined to create a consular province; after that, Aemilia existed independently, with Ravenna sometimes temporarily included. The borders of the ancient district roughly match those of the modern area.
In the Byzantine period Ravenna became the seat of an exarch; and after the Lombards had for two centuries attempted to subdue the Pentapolis (Ravenna, Bologna, Forlì, Faenza, Rimini), Pippin took these cities from Aistulf and gave them, with the March of Ancona, to the papacy in 755, to which, under the name of Romagna, they continued to belong. At first, however, the archbishop of Ravenna was in reality supreme. The other chief cities of Emilia—Ferrara, Modena, Reggio, Parma, Piacenza—were, on the other hand, independent, and in the period of the communal independence of the individual towns of Italy each of the chief cities of Emilia, whether belonging to Romagna or not, had a history of its own; and, notwithstanding the feuds of Guelphs and Ghibellines, prospered considerably. The study of Roman law, especially at Bologna, acquired great importance. The imperial influence kept the papal power in check. Nicholas III. obtained control of the Romagna in 1278, but the papal dominion almost fell during the Avignon period, and was only maintained by the efforts of Cardinal Albornoz, a Spaniard sent to Italy by Innocent VI. in 1353. Even so, however, the papal supremacy was little more than a name; and this state of things only ceased when Caesar Borgia, the natural son of Alexander VI., crushed most of the petty princes of Romagna, intending to found there a dynasty of his own; but on the death of Alexander VI. it was his successors in the papacy who carried on and profited by what Caesar Borgia had begun. The towns were thenceforth subject to the church and administered by cardinal legates. Ferrara and Comacchio remained under the house of Este until the death of Alphonso II. in 1597, when they were claimed by Pope Clement VIII. as vacant fiefs. Modena and Reggio, which had formed part of the Ferrara duchy, were thenceforth a separate duchy under a branch of the house of Este, which was descended from a natural son of Alphonso I. Carpi and Mirandola were small principalities, the former of which passed to the house of Este in 1525, in which year Charles V. expelled the Pio family, while the last of the Pico dynasty of Mirandola, Francesco Maria, having sided with the French in the war of Spanish Succession, was deprived of his duchy in 1709 by the emperor Joseph I., who sold it to the house of Este in 1710. Parma and Piacenza were at first under the Farnese, Pope Paul III. having placed his natural son Pier Luigi therein 1545, and then, 339 after the extinction of the family in 1731, under a secondary branch of the Bourbons of Spain. In 1796-1814, Emilia was first incorporated in the Italian republic and then in the Napoleonic Italian kingdom; after 1815 there was a return to the status quo ante, Romagna returning to the papacy and its ecclesiastical government, the duchy of Parma being given to Marie Louise, wife of the deposed Napoleon, and Modena to the archduke Francis of Austria, the heir of the last Este. In Romagna and Modena the government was oppressive, arbitrary, corrupt and unprogressive, while in Parma things were better. In 1821 and 1831 there were unsuccessful attempts at revolt in Emilia, which were sternly and cruelly repressed; chronic discontent continued and the people joined again in the movement of 1848-1849, which was crushed by Austrian troops. In 1859 the struggle for independence was finally successful, Emilia passing to the Italian kingdom almost without resistance.
In the Byzantine era, Ravenna became the location of an exarch, and after the Lombards had tried for two centuries to conquer the Pentapolis (Ravenna, Bologna, Forlì, Faenza, Rimini), Pippin took these cities from Aistulf and handed them, along with the March of Ancona, to the papacy in 755, which they continued to be part of under the name of Romagna. Initially, however, the archbishop of Ravenna was actually the one in charge. The other major cities of Emilia—Ferrara, Modena, Reggio, Parma, Piacenza—remained independent, and during the period of communal independence in various Italian towns, each of the main cities in Emilia, whether part of Romagna or not, developed its own history; despite the conflicts between the Guelphs and Ghibellines, they thrived significantly. The study of Roman law, particularly in Bologna, became very important. Imperial influence kept papal power in check. Nicholas III gained control of Romagna in 1278, but the papal authority nearly collapsed during the Avignon period, and was only sustained by Cardinal Albornoz, a Spaniard sent to Italy by Innocent VI in 1353. Even then, papal authority was little more than a title; this situation changed when Caesar Borgia, the illegitimate son of Alexander VI, eliminated most of the minor princes of Romagna, aiming to establish his own dynasty there; but after Alexander VI’s death, it was his successors in the papacy who advanced and benefitted from what Caesar Borgia had started. The towns then came under church control and were governed by cardinal legates. Ferrara and Comacchio remained with the House of Este until Alphonso II's death in 1597, when Pope Clement VIII claimed them as vacant fiefs. Modena and Reggio, which had been part of the Ferrara duchy, became a separate duchy under a branch of the House of Este, which descended from an illegitimate son of Alphonso I. Carpi and Mirandola were small principalities, with Carpi going to the House of Este in 1525, when Charles V expelled the Pio family, while Francisco Maria, the last of the Pico dynasty of Mirandola, lost his duchy in 1709 to Emperor Joseph I for siding with the French in the War of Spanish Succession; Joseph sold it to the House of Este in 1710. Parma and Piacenza were initially under the Farnese, with Pope Paul III placing his illegitimate son Pier Luigi there in 1545, and after the family died out in 1731, they came under a secondary branch of the Bourbons of Spain. Between 1796-1814, Emilia was first integrated into the Italian republic and then the Napoleonic Italian kingdom; after 1815, things returned to the status quo ante, with Romagna going back to the papacy and ecclesiastical control, the duchy of Parma being given to Marie Louise, Napoleon’s deposed wife, and Modena to Archduke Francis of Austria, the heir of the last Este. In Romagna and Modena, the government was oppressive, arbitrary, corrupt, and stagnant, while conditions in Parma were better. Failed revolts occurred in Emilia in 1821 and 1831, which were harshly and brutally put down; ongoing discontent persisted, and the people participated again in the movement of 1848-1849, which was suppressed by Austrian troops. In 1859, the struggle for independence succeeded, with Emilia joining the Italian kingdom with almost no resistance.
EMINENCE (Lat. eminentia), a title of honour now confined to the cardinals of the Church of Rome. It was originally given as a complimentary title to emperors, kings, and then to less conspicuous persons. The Roman empire of the 4th century adopted from the “vanity of the East the forms and ceremonies of ostentatious greatness.” Gibbon includes in the “profusion of epithets” by which “the purity of the Latin language was debased,” and which were lavished on “the principal officers of the empire,” “your Sincerity, your Gravity, your Excellency, your Eminence, your sublime and wonderful Magnitude, your illustrious and magnificent Highness.” From the notitia dignitatum it passed into the Latin of the middle ages as a flattering epithet, and was applied in the church and by the popes to the dignified clergy at large, and sometimes as a pure form of civility to churchmen of modest rank. On the 10th of June 1630, Urban VIII. confined the use of the titles Eminentiae and Eminentissimi to the cardinals, to imperial electors, and to the master of the Hospital of St John of Jerusalem (order of the Knights of Malta). Since the dissolution of the Holy Roman Empire, and the entire change, if not actual destruction, of the order of St John, the title “eminence” has become strictly confined to the cardinals. Before 1630 the members of the Sacred College were “Illustrissimi” and “Reverendissimi.” It is, therefore, not correct to speak of a cardinal who lived before that time as “his Eminence.”
EMINENCE (Lat. eminentia), an honorific title now limited to the cardinals of the Roman Catholic Church. It was initially given as a respectful title to emperors, kings, and later to less prominent individuals. The Roman Empire in the 4th century adopted “the vanity of the East” along with the forms and ceremonies of showy greatness. Gibbon mentions the “profusion of epithets” that “debased the purity of the Latin language” and were used to flatter “the principal officers of the empire,” such as “your Sincerity, your Gravity, your Excellency, your Eminence, your sublime and wonderful Magnitude, your illustrious and magnificent Highness.” From the notitia dignitatum, it transitioned into medieval Latin as a flattering term and was applied within the church and by the popes to dignified clergy in general, and at times as a polite form of address to churchmen of humble rank. On June 10, 1630, Urban VIII restricted the use of the titles Eminentiae and Eminentissimi to cardinals, imperial electors, and the master of the Hospital of St. John of Jerusalem (Knights of Malta). Following the dissolution of the Holy Roman Empire and the significant transformation, if not outright elimination, of the order of St. John, the title “eminence” has become strictly reserved for cardinals. Before 1630, members of the Sacred College were referred to as “Illustrissimi” and “Reverendissimi.” Therefore, it is inaccurate to refer to a cardinal who lived before that time as “his Eminence.”
See du Cange, Glossarium mediae et infimae latinitatis (Niort and London, 1884), s.v. “Eminentia.”
See du Cange, Glossarium mediae et infimae latinitatis (Niort and London, 1884), s.v. “Eminentia.”
EMINENT DOMAIN (Lat. eminens, rising high above surrounding objects: and dominium, domain), a term applied in law to the sovereign right of a state to appropriate private property to public uses, whether the owner consents or not. It is repeatedly employed by Grotius (e.g. De jure belli, bk. iii. c. 20, s. 7), Bynkershoek (Quaest. jur. pub. bk. 2, c. 15), and Puffendorf (De jure naturae et gentium, bk. i. c. 1, s. 19),—the two latter, however, preferring the word imperium to dominium; and by other Dutch jurists. But in modern times it is chiefly in the United States of America that the doctrine of eminent domain has received its application, and it is chiefly to American law that the following remarks refer (see also the article Compensation). Eminent domain is distinguishable alike from the police power, by which restrictions are imposed on private property in the public interest, e.g. in connexion with the liquor traffic or public health (see re Haff (1904), 197 U.S. 488); from the power of taxation, by which the owner of private property is compelled to contribute a portion of it for public purposes; and from the war-power, involving the destruction of private property in the course of military operations. The police power fetters rights of property; eminent domain takes them away. The power of taxation is analogous to eminent domain as regards the purposes to which the contribution of the tax-payer is to be applied. But, unlike eminent domain, it does not necessarily involve a taking of specific property for those purposes. The destruction of property in military operations—or in the discharge by Government of other duties in cases of necessity, e.g. in order to check the progress of a fire in a city—clearly cannot be said to be an exercise of the power of eminent domain. The question whether the element of compensation is necessarily involved in the idea of eminent domain has in modern times aroused much controversy. According to one school of thought (see Lewis, Eminent Domain, s. 10), this question must be answered in the negative. According to a second, whose view has the support of the civilians (see Randolph, Eminent Domain, s. 227; Mills, Eminent Domain, s. 1) compensation is an inherent attribute of the power. An intermediate view is advocated by Professor Thayer (Cases on Constitutional Law, vol. 1, 953), according to which eminent domain springs from the necessities of government, while the obligation to reimburse rests upon the natural right of individuals. The right to compensation is thus not a component part of the power to take, but arises at the same time and the latter cannot exist without it. The relation between the two is that of substance and shadow. The matter is not, however, of great practical importance, for the Federal Constitution prohibits the exercise of the power “without just compensation” (5th Amendment), while in most of the states the State constitution or other legislation has imposed upon it a similar limitation: and the tendency of modern judicial decisions is in favour of the view that the absence of such a limitation will make an enactment so far unconstitutional and invalid.
EMINENT DOMAIN (Lat. eminens, rising high above surrounding objects: and dominium, domain), a term used in law to describe a government's right to take private property for public use, whether the owner agrees or not. This concept is often discussed by Grotius (e.g. De jure belli, bk. iii. c. 20, s. 7), Bynkershoek (Quaest. jur. pub. bk. 2, c. 15), and Puffendorf (De jure naturae et gentium, bk. i. c. 1, s. 19), though the latter two prefer the term imperium over dominium, along with other Dutch legal scholars. However, in modern times, the doctrine of eminent domain is primarily applied in the United States, and the following remarks mainly pertain to American law (see also the article Compensation). Eminent domain is different from the police power, which allows the government to impose restrictions on private property for the public good, such as in relation to alcohol sales or public health (see re Haff (1904), 197 U.S. 488); it is also distinct from the power of taxation, which requires property owners to pay a portion of their property for public purposes; and it is separate from the war-power, which involves the destruction of private property during military actions. The police power restricts property rights; eminent domain removes them altogether. The power of taxation is similar to eminent domain in that it directs taxpayer contributions to public purposes. However, unlike eminent domain, it doesn’t entail the taking of specific property for those purposes. Destroying property during military operations—or when the government must take urgent actions, like preventing a fire from spreading in a city—cannot be classified as an exercise of eminent domain. The debate over whether compensation is a necessary element of eminent domain has sparked considerable disagreement in modern times. One perspective (see Lewis, Eminent Domain, s. 10) argues that this question should be answered negatively. A second view, supported by legal commentators (see Randolph, Eminent Domain, s. 227; Mills, Eminent Domain, s. 1), asserts that compensation is an essential part of the power. An intermediate stance is held by Professor Thayer (Cases on Constitutional Law, vol. 1, 953), who suggests that eminent domain arises from governmental needs, while the duty to compensate stems from individual rights. Thus, the right to compensation isn’t a fundamental part of the power to take but emerges simultaneously, and the latter cannot exist without it. The relationship between the two is akin to that of substance and shadow. Nonetheless, this distinction is not extremely significant in practice, as the Federal Constitution prohibits exercising this power “without just compensation” (5th Amendment), and most states have similar provisions in their constitutions or laws. The trend in recent court decisions supports the notion that lacking such a limitation would render a law unconstitutional and invalid.
In order to justify the exercise of the power of eminent domain, the purposes to which the property taken is to be applied must be “public,” i.e. primarily public, and not primarily of private interest and merely incidentally beneficial to the public (Madisonville Traction Co. v. Mining Co., 1904, 196 U.S. 239). Subject to this definition, the term “public” receives a wide interpretation. All kinds of property may be taken; and the procedure indicated by the different legislatures must be followed. Any contravention of this rule would involve a breach of the 5th Amendment of the Federal Constitution, which provides that “no person ... shall be ... deprived of ... property, without due process of law.” It may be added that if the performance of a covenant is rendered impossible by an act of eminent domain the covenantor is excused.
To justify the use of eminent domain, the reasons for taking the property must be “public,” meaning primarily for public benefit, rather than mainly for private interest with only incidental public advantages (Madisonville Traction Co. v. Mining Co., 1904, 196 U.S. 239). Within this definition, the term “public” is broadly interpreted. Various types of property can be taken, and the processes set by different legislatures must be followed. Any violation of this rule would violate the 5th Amendment of the Federal Constitution, which states that “no person ... shall be ... deprived of ... property, without due process of law.” Additionally, if fulfilling a covenant becomes impossible due to an act of eminent domain, the covenantor is excused.
In English law, the only exact analogue to the doctrine of eminent domain is to be found in the prerogative right of the crown to enter upon the lands of subjects or to interfere with their enjoyment for the defence of the realm (see A.G. v. Tomline; 1879; 12 Ch. D. 214). No attempt is made to exercise this prerogative, and lands are acquired for state purposes by statute usually framed on or incorporating the Lands Clauses Acts (see Compensation). The French Code Civil secures compensation to the owner of property in cases of expropriation pour cause d’utilité publique (art. 545), and there is similar provision in Belgium (Const. Law, art. II.), Holland (Fundamental Law, art. 147), Spain (Civil Code, art. 349, and Law of 3rd May, 1841), and most other European states. It has been held in France that the right to compensation does not arise under art. 545 of the Code Civil where only a servitude d’utilité publique is created on a private individual’s land.
In English law, the only direct equivalent to the doctrine of eminent domain is found in the crown's prerogative right to enter the lands of subjects or interfere with their enjoyment for the defense of the realm (see A.G. v. Tomline; 1879; 12 Ch. D. 214). This prerogative is rarely exercised, and land is usually acquired for state purposes through statutes that are often based on or include the Lands Clauses Acts (see Compensation). The French Code Civil guarantees compensation to property owners in cases of expropriation pour cause d’utilité publique (art. 545), and similar provisions exist in Belgium (Const. Law, art. II.), Holland (Fundamental Law, art. 147), Spain (Civil Code, art. 349, and Law of 3rd May, 1841), and many other European countries. In France, it has been determined that the right to compensation does not arise under art. 545 of the Code Civil when only a servitude d’utilité publique is established on a private individual's land.
In addition to the authorities cited in the text, see Lewis, Eminent Domain (2nd ed., Chicago, 1900); Mills, Eminent Domain (2nd ed., St Louis, 1888); Randolph, Eminent Domain in the United States (Boston, 1894).
In addition to the sources mentioned in the text, check out Lewis, Eminent Domain (2nd ed., Chicago, 1900); Mills, Eminent Domain (2nd ed., St. Louis, 1888); Randolph, Eminent Domain in the United States (Boston, 1894).
EMINESCU, MICHAIL (1849-1889), the greatest Rumanian poet of the 19th century, was born on the 20th of December in Ipateshti near Botoshani, in the north of Moldavia. He was of Turco-Tatar origin, and his surname was originally Emin; this was changed to Eminovich and finally to the Rumanian form Eminescu. He was educated for a time in Czernowitz, and then entered the civil service. In 1864 he resumed his studies in Transylvania, but soon joined a roving theatrical company where he played in turn the rôles of actor, prompter and stage-manager. After a few years he went to Vienna, Jena and Berlin, where he attended lectures, especially on philosophy. In 1874 he was appointed school inspector and librarian at the university of Jassy, but was soon turned out through the change of government, and took charge, as editor in chief, of the Conservative paper Timpul (Times). In 1883 340 he had the first attack of the insanity hereditary in his family, and in 1889 he died in a private institution in Bucharest. In 1870 his great poetical talent was revealed by two contributions to the Convorbiri literare, the organ of the Junimist party in Jassy; these were the poems “Venera şi Madona” and “Epigonii.” Other poems followed and soon established his claim to be the first among the modern poets of his country. He was thoroughly acquainted with the chronicles of the past, had a complete mastery of the Rumanian language, and was a lover and admirer of Rumanian popular poetry. Influenced by these studies and by the philosophy of Schopenhauer, he introduced a new spirit into Rumanian poetry. Mystically inclined and himself of a melancholy disposition, he lived in the glory of the medieval Rumanian past; stifled by the artificiality of the world around him, he rebelled against the conventionality of society and his surroundings. In inimitable language he denounced the vileness of the present and painted in glowing pictures the heroism of the past; he also surprised nature in its primitive beauty, and he gave expression to stirring emotions in lyrics couched in the language and metre of popular poetry. He further proved himself an unsurpassed master in satire. Over all his poetry hangs a cloud of sadness, the sense of coming doom. Simplicity of language, masterly handling of rhyme and verse, deep thought and plastic expression made Eminescu the creator of a school of poetry which dominated the thought of Rumania and the expression of Rumanian writers and poets at the end of the 19th century and the beginning of the 20th.
EMINESCU, MICHAIL (1849-1889), the greatest Romanian poet of the 19th century, was born on December 20th in Ipateshti near Botoshani, in northern Moldavia. He was of Turco-Tatar descent, and his original surname was Emin; it was changed to Eminovich and finally to the Romanian version, Eminescu. He studied for a while in Czernowitz and then joined the civil service. In 1864, he resumed his studies in Transylvania but soon joined a traveling theater company where he alternated as an actor, prompter, and stage manager. After a few years, he moved to Vienna, Jena, and Berlin, where he attended lectures, particularly on philosophy. In 1874, he was appointed school inspector and librarian at the university of Jassy, but he was soon dismissed due to a change in government, after which he became the editor-in-chief of the Conservative newspaper Timpul (Times). In 1883, 340 he experienced the first episode of insanity that ran in his family, and in 1889, he died in a private institution in Bucharest. His great poetic talent surfaced in 1870 with two contributions to the Convorbiri literare, the publication of the Junimist party in Jassy; these were the poems “Venera şi Madona” and “Epigonii.” More poems followed, quickly establishing his reputation as the foremost modern poet of his country. He was well-versed in the chronicles of the past, had a complete mastery of the Romanian language, and was an admirer of Romanian folk poetry. Influenced by these studies and by Schopenhauer's philosophy, he infused a new spirit into Romanian poetry. With a mystical inclination and a naturally melancholic temperament, he found himself reliving the glory of medieval Romanian history; stifled by the artificiality of the world around him, he rebelled against societal conventions and norms. In distinctive language, he decried the corruption of the present and vividly portrayed the heroism of the past; he also captured nature in its raw beauty and expressed stirring emotions in lyrics framed in the style and rhythm of popular poetry. He also proved to be an unmatched master of satire. A pervasive cloud of sadness and a sense of impending doom linger over all his poetry. The simplicity of his language, expert use of rhyme and meter, profound thought, and vivid expression made Eminescu the creator of a poetic school that dominated Romanian thought and the expressions of Romanian writers and poets at the end of the 19th century and the beginning of the 20th.
Five editions of his collected poems appeared after 1890. Some of them were translated into German by “Carmen Sylva” and Mite Kremnitz, and others have also been translated into several other languages. Eminescu also wrote two short novels, real poems in prose (Jassy, 1890).
Five editions of his collected poems came out after 1890. Some were translated into German by "Carmen Sylva" and Mite Kremnitz, and others have also been translated into several other languages. Eminescu also wrote two short novels, true poems in prose (Jassy, 1890).
EMIN PASHA [Eduard Schnitzer] (1840-1892), German traveller, administrator and naturalist, was the son of Ludwig Schnitzer, a merchant of Oppeln in Silesia, and was born in Oppeln on the 28th of March 1840. He was educated at the universities of Breslau, Berlin and Königsberg, and took the degree of M.D. at Berlin. He displayed an early predilection for zoology and ornithology, and in later life became a skilled and enthusiastic collector, particularly of African plants and birds. When he was four-and-twenty he determined to seek his fortunes abroad, and made his way to Turkey, where, after practising medicine on his own account for a short time, he was appointed (in 1865) quarantine medical officer at Antivari. The duties of the post were not heavy, and allowed him leisure for a diligent study of Turkish, Arabic and Persian. From 1870 to 1874 he was in the service of the governor of northern Albania, had adopted a Turkish name (though not that by which he afterwards became so widely known), and was practically naturalized as a Turk.
EMIN PASHA [Eduard Schnitzer] (1840-1892), a German traveler, administrator, and naturalist, was the son of Ludwig Schnitzer, a merchant from Oppeln in Silesia, and was born in Oppeln on March 28, 1840. He studied at the universities of Breslau, Berlin, and Königsberg, eventually earning his M.D. from Berlin. He showed a strong interest in zoology and ornithology early on and later became an enthusiastic and skilled collector, especially of African plants and birds. At the age of 24, he decided to seek his fortune abroad and ventured to Turkey, where, after briefly practicing medicine independently, he was appointed quarantine medical officer in Antivari in 1865. The responsibilities of the job were light, giving him time to diligently study Turkish, Arabic, and Persian. From 1870 to 1874, he served the governor of northern Albania, adopted a Turkish name (though not the one by which he became widely recognized), and was essentially naturalized as a Turk.
After a visit home in 1875 he went to Cairo, and then to Khartum, in the hope of an opportunity for travelling in the interior of Africa. This came to him in the following year, when General Charles George Gordon, who had recently succeeded Sir Samuel Baker as governor of the equatorial provinces of Egypt, invited Schnitzer, who was now known as “Emin Effendi,” to join him at Lado on the upper Nile. Although nominally Gordon’s medical officer, Emin was soon entrusted with political missions of some importance to Uganda and Unyoro. In these he acquitted himself so well that when, in 1878, Gordon’s successor at Lado was deprived of his office on account of malpractices (Gordon himself having been made governor-general of the Sudan), Emin was chosen to fill the post of governor of the Equatorial Province (i.e. the old equatorial provinces minus the Bahr-el-Ghazal) and given the title of “bey.” He proved an energetic and enterprising governor; indeed, his enterprise on more than one occasion brought him into conflict with Gordon, who eventually decided to remove Emin to Suakin. Before the change could be effected, however, Gordon resigned his post in the Sudan, and his successor revoked the order.
After a trip home in 1875, he went to Cairo and then to Khartum, looking for a chance to travel in the interior of Africa. This opportunity came in the following year when General Charles George Gordon, who had recently taken over from Sir Samuel Baker as governor of Egypt’s equatorial provinces, invited Schnitzer, now known as “Emin Effendi,” to join him at Lado on the upper Nile. Although he was officially Gordon’s medical officer, Emin quickly got assigned important political missions to Uganda and Unyoro. He performed so well that when, in 1878, Gordon’s successor at Lado was removed from his position due to misconduct (with Gordon himself becoming governor-general of the Sudan), Emin was chosen to be the governor of the Equatorial Province (i.e., the old equatorial provinces excluding the Bahr-el-Ghazal) and was given the title of “bey.” He turned out to be an energetic and enterprising governor; indeed, his ambition led to several clashes with Gordon, who eventually decided to transfer Emin to Suakin. However, before this change could happen, Gordon resigned from his position in the Sudan, and his successor canceled the order.
The next three or four years were employed by Emin in various journeys through his province, and in the initiation of schemes for its development, until in 1882, on his return from a visit to Khartum, he became aware that the Mahdist rising, which had originated in Kordofan, was spreading southward. The effect of the rising was, of course, more markedly felt in Emin’s province after the abandonment of the Sudan by the Egyptian government in 1884. He was obliged to give up several of his stations in face of the Mahdist advance, and ultimately to retire from Lado, which had been his capital, to Wadelai. This last step followed upon his receipt of a letter from Nubar Pasha, informing him that it was impossible for the Egyptian government to send him help, and that he must stay in his province or retire towards the coast as best he could. Emin (who about this time was raised to the rank of pasha) had some thoughts of a retreat to Zanzibar, but decided to remain where he was and endeavour to hold his own. To this end he carried on protracted negotiations with neighbouring native potentates. When, in 1887, (Sir) H.M. Stanley’s expedition was on its way to relieve him, it is clear from Emin’s diary that he had no wish to leave his province, even if relieved. He had done good work there, and established a position which he believed himself able to maintain. He hoped, however, that the presence of Stanley’s force, when it came, would strengthen his position; but the condition of the relieving party, when it arrived in April 1888, did not seem to Emin to promise this. Stanley’s proposal to Emin, as stated in the latter’s diary, was that Emin should either remain as governor-general on behalf of the king of the Belgians, or establish himself on Victoria Nyanza on behalf of a group of English merchants who wished to start an enterprise in Africa on the model of the East India Company. After much hesitation, and prompted by a growing disaffection amongst the natives (owing, as he maintained, to his loss of prestige after the arrival of Stanley’s force), Emin decided to accompany Stanley to the coast, where the expedition arrived in December 1889. Unfortunately, on the evening of a reception dinner given in his honour, Emin met with an accident which resulted in fracture of the skull. Careful nursing gradually restored him to health, and on his convalescence he resolutely maintained his decision to remain in Africa, and, if possible, to work there in future on behalf of the German government. The seal was definitely set upon this decision by his formal engagement on behalf of his native country, early in 1890. Preparations for a new expedition into the interior were set on foot, and meanwhile Emin was honoured in various ways by learned societies in Germany and elsewhere.
The next three to four years were spent by Emin traveling around his province and starting projects for its development, until 1882, when he returned from a trip to Khartum and learned that the Mahdist uprising, which began in Kordofan, was moving southward. The effects of the uprising were felt more strongly in Emin's province after the Egyptian government abandoned Sudan in 1884. He had to shut down several of his stations due to the Mahdist advance and eventually retreat from Lado, which had been his capital, to Wadelai. This final move came after he received a letter from Nubar Pasha, informing him that the Egyptian government could not send help and that he must either stay in his province or make his way to the coast as best he could. Emin (who was promoted to the rank of pasha around this time) considered retreating to Zanzibar but chose to stay where he was and try to hold his ground. To achieve this, he engaged in lengthy negotiations with nearby local leaders. When (Sir) H.M. Stanley’s expedition was on its way to rescue him in 1887, Emin's diary makes it clear that he did not want to leave his province, even if he was rescued. He had accomplished significant work there and established a position that he believed he could maintain. However, he hoped that Stanley’s presence would bolster his position; yet when the relieving party arrived in April 1888, Emin did not think it looked promising. Stanley proposed to Emin, as noted in the latter's diary, that Emin either continue as governor-general for the king of the Belgians or set up on Victoria Nyanza for a group of English merchants looking to start an African venture similar to the East India Company. After much hesitation and driven by growing dissatisfaction among the locals (which he believed was due to his loss of prestige after Stanley's arrival), Emin decided to accompany Stanley to the coast, where the expedition reached in December 1889. Unfortunately, during a reception dinner held in his honor, Emin had an accident that resulted in a skull fracture. With careful nursing, he gradually recovered, and during his convalescence, he firmly maintained his decision to stay in Africa and, if possible, work there for the German government. His commitment to this decision was solidified by his formal engagement on behalf of his home country in early 1890. Preparations for a new expedition into the interior were initiated, and in the meantime, Emin received various honors from learned societies in Germany and elsewhere.
The object of the new expedition was (to quote Emin’s instructions) “to secure on behalf of Germany the territories situated south of and along Victoria Nyanza up to Albert Nyanza,” and to “make known to the population there that they were placed under German supremacy and protection, and to break or undermine Arab influence as far as possible.” The force, which was well equipped, started at the end of April 1890. But before it had penetrated far inland the political reasons for sending the expedition vanished with the signature, on the 1st of July 1890, of the Anglo-German agreement defining the spheres of influence of the two nations, an agreement which excluded the Albert Nyanza region from the German sphere. For a time things went well enough with the expedition; Emin occupied the important town of Tabora on the route from the coast to Tanganyika and established the post of Bukoba on Victoria Nyanza, but by degrees ill-fortune clouded its prospects. Difficulties on the route; dissensions between Emin and the authorities in German East Africa, and misunderstandings on the part of both; epidemics of disease in Emin’s force, followed by a growing spirit of mutiny among his native followers; an illness of a painful nature which attacked him—all these gradually undermined Emin’s courage, and his diaries at the close of 1891 reflect a gloomy and almost hopeless spirit. In May that year he had crossed into the Congo State by the south shore of Albert Edward Nyanza, and many months were spent on the borders of the great Congo Forest and in the Undusuma country south-west of Albert Nyanza, breaking ground new to Europeans. 341 In December 1891 he sent off his companion, Dr Stuhlmann, with the bulk of the caravan, on the way back to the east coast. Emin remained behind with the sick, and with a very reduced following left the lake district in March 1892 for the Congo river. On reaching Ipoto on the Ituri he came within the region of the Arab slave raiders and ivory hunters, in whose company he at times travelled. These gentry were incensed against Emin for the energetic way in which he had dealt with their comrades while in German territory, and against Europeans generally by the campaign for their suppression begun by the Congo State. At the instigation of one of these Arabs Emin was murdered on the 23rd or 24th of October 1892 at Kinena, a place about 80 m. E.S.E. of Stanley Falls.
The goal of the new expedition was (to quote Emin’s instructions) “to secure on behalf of Germany the territories located south of and along Victoria Nyanza up to Albert Nyanza,” and to “inform the population there that they were under German control and protection, and to weaken Arab influence as much as possible.” The well-equipped force set out at the end of April 1890. However, before it had traveled far inland, the political reasons for sending the expedition disappeared with the signing, on July 1, 1890, of the Anglo-German agreement that outlined the spheres of influence of the two nations, which excluded the Albert Nyanza region from the German sphere. For a while, things went fairly well for the expedition; Emin took control of the important town of Tabora on the route from the coast to Tanganyika and established the post of Bukoba on Victoria Nyanza, but gradually misfortune began to loom over its prospects. Route difficulties, disagreements between Emin and the authorities in German East Africa, and misunderstandings on both sides; disease epidemics in Emin’s force, followed by a growing spirit of rebellion among his native followers; and a painful illness that afflicted him—all these factors gradually eroded Emin’s courage, and his diaries at the end of 1891 express a bleak and nearly hopeless outlook. In May of that year, he crossed into the Congo State along the southern shore of Albert Edward Nyanza, spending many months near the great Congo Forest and in the Undusuma country southwest of Albert Nyanza, exploring areas new to Europeans. 341 In December 1891, he sent his companion, Dr. Stuhlmann, back to the east coast with the majority of the caravan. Emin stayed behind with the sick, and with a significantly reduced group left the lake district in March 1892 for the Congo River. Upon reaching Ipoto on the Ituri, he entered the territory of the Arab slave raiders and ivory hunters, often traveling in their company. These individuals were furious with Emin for the forceful way he had dealt with their partners while in German territory, and against Europeans in general due to the campaign for their suppression initiated by the Congo State. At the urging of one of these Arabs, Emin was murdered on October 23 or 24, 1892, at Kinena, a location about 80 miles E.S.E. of Stanley Falls.
See Emin Pasha, his Life and Work, by Georg Schweitzer, with introduction by R.W. Felkin (2 vols., London, 1898); Emin Pasha in Central Africa (London, 1888), a collection of Emin’s papers contributed to scientific journals; and Mit Emin Pascha ins Herz von Afrika (Berlin, 1894), by Dr Franz Stuhlmann. Major G. Casati (1838-1902), an Italian officer who spent several years with Emin, and accompanied him and Stanley to the coast, narrated his experiences in Dieci anni in Equatoria (English edition, Ten Years in Equatoria and the Return with Emin Pasha, London, 1891).
See Emin Pasha, his Life and Work, by Georg Schweitzer, with introduction by R.W. Felkin (2 vols., London, 1898); Emin Pasha in Central Africa (London, 1888), a collection of Emin’s papers contributed to scientific journals; and Mit Emin Pascha ins Herz von Afrika (Berlin, 1894), by Dr Franz Stuhlmann. Major G. Casati (1838-1902), an Italian officer who spent several years with Emin and accompanied him and Stanley to the coast, recounted his experiences in Dieci anni in Equatoria (English edition, Ten Years in Equatoria and the Return with Emin Pasha, London, 1891).
EMLYN, THOMAS (1663-1741), English nonconformist divine, was born at Stamford, Lincolnshire. He served as chaplain to the presbyterian Letitia, countess of Donegal, and then to Sir Robert Rich, afterwards (1691) becoming colleague to Joseph Boyse, presbyterian minister in Dublin. From this office he was virtually dismissed on his own confession of unitarianism, and for publishing An Humble Inquiry into the Scripture Account of Jesus Christ (1702) was sentenced to a year’s imprisonment and a fine of £1000. Thanks to the intervention of Boyse he was released in 1705 on payment of £90. He is said to have been the first English preacher definitely to describe himself as “unitarian,” and writes in his diary, “I thank God that He did not call me to this lot of suffering till I had arrived at maturity of judgment and firmness of resolution, and that He did not desert me when my friends did. He never let me be so cast down as to renounce the truth or to waver in my faith.” Of Christ he writes, “We may regard with fervent gratitude so great a benefactor, but our esteem and rational love must ascend higher and not rest till it centre in his God and ours.” Emlyn preached a good deal in Paul’s Alley, Barbican, in his later years, and died in London in 1741.
EMLYN, THOMAS (1663-1741), English nonconformist minister, was born in Stamford, Lincolnshire. He served as chaplain to the Presbyterian Letitia, Countess of Donegal, and later to Sir Robert Rich. In 1691, he became a colleague to Joseph Boyse, a Presbyterian minister in Dublin. He was effectively dismissed from this position after admitting to his Unitarian beliefs, and for publishing An Humble Inquiry into the Scripture Account of Jesus Christ (1702), he was sentenced to a year in prison and fined £1000. With Boyse's help, he was released in 1705 after paying £90. He is believed to be the first English preacher to call himself “Unitarian,” and he wrote in his diary, “I thank God that He did not call me to this lot of suffering until I had reached maturity of judgment and firmness of resolution, and that He did not abandon me when my friends did. He never allowed me to be so discouraged as to renounce the truth or waver in my faith.” Concerning Christ, he stated, “We can regard with heartfelt gratitude such a great benefactor, but our admiration and rational love must rise higher and not rest until they center in his God and ours.” In his later years, Emlyn preached frequently in Paul’s Alley, Barbican, and he died in London in 1741.
EMMANUEL, or Immanuel, a Hebrew symbolical proper name, meaning “God (is) with us.” When in 734-733 B.C. Ahaz, king of Judah, alarmed at the preparations made against him by the Syro-Ephraimitish alliance, was inclined to seek aid from Tiglath-pileser of Assyria, the prophet Isaiah endeavoured to allay his fear by telling him that the danger would pass away, and as a sign from Yahweh that this should be so, any young woman who should within the year bear a son, might call his name Immanuel in token of the divine protection accorded to Judah. For before the infant should come to even the immature intelligence of childhood the lands of the foe would be laid waste (Isaiah vii. 14-16). For other interpretations, especially as regards the mother, see Ency. Bib. col. 2162-3, and the commentaries. In the post-exilic period the historical meaning of the passage was forgotten, and a new significance was given to it in accordance with the gradually developing eschatological doctrine. This new interpretation finds expression in Matt. i. 23, where the name is applied to Jesus as the Messiah. At the close of Isaiah viii. 8 for “of thy land, O Immanuel,” we should probably read “of the land, for God is with us.” The three passages quoted are the only instances where this word occurs in Scripture; it is frequent in hymns and devotional literature as a title of Jesus Christ.
EMMANUEL, or Immanuel, is a Hebrew symbolic name that means “God (is) with us.” In 734-733 BCE, King Ahaz of Judah, worried about the threats posed by the Syro-Ephraimitish alliance, considered seeking help from Tiglath-pileser of Assyria. The prophet Isaiah tried to ease his fears by telling him that the danger would pass, and as a sign from Yahweh that this would happen, any young woman who gave birth to a son within the year could name him Immanuel, symbolizing the divine protection given to Judah. Before the child even reaches a basic understanding of childhood, the lands of the enemy would be devastated (Isaiah vii. 14-16). For other interpretations, especially regarding the mother, see Ency. Bib. col. 2162-3, and the commentaries. In the post-exilic period, the original meaning of the passage was forgotten, and a new significance was assigned to it in alignment with the developing eschatological ideas. This new interpretation is expressed in Matt. i. 23, where the name is used for Jesus as the Messiah. At the end of Isaiah viii. 8, instead of “of thy land, O Immanuel,” we should probably read “of the land, for God is with us.” The three passages quoted are the only places where this word appears in Scripture; it is often found in hymns and devotional literature as a title for Jesus Christ.
EMMANUEL PHILIBERT (1528-1580), duke of Savoy, son of Charles III. and Beatrice of Portugal, one of the most renowned princes of the later Renaissance, was born on the 8th of July 1528. Charles, after trying in vain to remain neutral in the wars between France and the emperor Charles V., had been forced to side with the latter, whereupon his duchy was overrun with foreign soldiery and became the battlefield of the rival armies. Prince Emmanuel took service with the emperor in 1545 and distinguished himself in Germany, France and the Low Countries. On the death of his father in 1553 he succeeded to the title, little more than an empty one, and continued in the emperor’s service. Having been refused the command of the imperial troops in Piedmont, he tried in vain to negotiate a separate peace with France; but in 1556 France and Spain concluded a five years’ truce, by which each was to retain what it then occupied. This would have been the end of Savoy, but within a year the two powers were again at war. The chief events of the campaign were the successful resistance of Cuneo, held for the duke by Count Luserna, and the victory of St Quentin (1557), won by Emmanuel Philibert himself against the French. At last in 1558 the powers agreed to an armistice, and in 1559 the peace of Cateau-Cambrésis was made, by which Emmanuel regained his duchy, but on onerous terms, for France was to occupy several Piedmontese fortresses, including Turin and Pinerolo, for not more than three years, and a marriage was arranged between the duke and Margaret, duchess of Berry, sister of the French king; while Spain was to garrison Asti and Vercelli (afterwards exchanged for Santhià) until France evacuated the above-mentioned fortresses. The duke’s marriage took place in Paris a few months later; and after the French evacuation he re-entered his dominions amidst the rejoicings of the people. The condition of Piedmont at that time was deplorable; for wars, the exactions and devastations of the foreign soldiery, and religious antagonism between Catholics and Protestants had wrought terrible havoc. “Uncultivated,” wrote the Venetian ambassador, quoted by E. Ricotti, “no citizens in the cities, neither man nor beast in the fields, all the land forest-clad and wild; one sees no houses, for most of them are burnt, and of nearly all the castles only the walls are visible; of the inhabitants, once so numerous, some have died of the plague or of hunger, some by the sword, and some have fled elsewhere preferring to beg their bread abroad rather than support misery at home which is worse than death.” There was no army, the administration was chaotic, and the finances were in a hopeless state. The duke set to work to put his house in order, and inaugurated a series of useful reforms, ably assisted by his minister, Niccolò Balbo. But progress was slow, and was accompanied by measures which abolished the states general, the last survival of feudal liberties. Savoy, following the tendency of the other states of Europe at that time, became thenceforth an absolute monarchy, but without that transformation the achievement of complete independence from foreign powers would have been impossible.
EMMANUEL PHILIBERT (1528-1580), Duke of Savoy, son of Charles III and Beatrice of Portugal, was one of the most famous princes of the late Renaissance. He was born on July 8, 1528. Charles, after unsuccessfully attempting to stay neutral in the wars between France and Emperor Charles V, was forced to side with the emperor, resulting in his duchy being invaded by foreign troops and becoming a battleground for rival armies. In 1545, Prince Emmanuel joined the emperor's service and made a name for himself in Germany, France, and the Low Countries. After his father died in 1553, he inherited a title that was little more than a shell and continued to serve the emperor. After being denied command of the imperial troops in Piedmont, he unsuccessfully tried to negotiate a separate peace with France. However, in 1556, France and Spain reached a five-year truce that allowed each to keep what they controlled at that time. This could have meant the end for Savoy, but within a year, the two countries were at war again. Key events of the campaign included the successful defense of Cuneo, held for the duke by Count Luserna, and the victory at St. Quentin (1557), where Emmanuel Philibert led the charge against the French. Finally, in 1558, the nations agreed to a ceasefire, and in 1559, the Peace of Cateau-Cambrésis was signed, allowing Emmanuel to regain his duchy, though under harsh conditions. France was to occupy several fortresses in Piedmont, including Turin and Pinerolo, for no more than three years, and a marriage was arranged between the duke and Margaret, Duchess of Berry, sister to the French king. Meanwhile, Spain was to garrison Asti and Vercelli (later exchanged for Santhià) until France withdrew from the aforementioned forts. The duke’s marriage took place in Paris a few months later, and after the French withdrew, he returned to his lands to the joy of the people. At that time, Piedmont was in a terrible state; wars, foreign troops' abuses, and religious conflicts between Catholics and Protestants had caused extensive destruction. “Uncultivated,” wrote the Venetian ambassador, as quoted by E. Ricotti, “there are no citizens in the cities, neither man nor beast in the fields, all the land is overgrown and wild; one sees no houses, as most have burned down, and of nearly all the castles, only the walls are left standing; of the once numerous inhabitants, some died from plague or starvation, some by the sword, and some fled elsewhere, preferring to beg for food abroad rather than endure a misery at home worse than death.” There was no army, the administration was disorganized, and the finances were in shambles. The duke immediately set to work to restore order and launched a series of beneficial reforms, with strong support from his minister, Niccolò Balbo. However, progress was slow and came with actions that dissolved the states general, the last remnant of feudal liberties. Savoy, following the trend of other European nations at that time, became an absolute monarchy, but without that transformation, achieving complete independence from foreign powers would have been impossible.
One of the first questions with which he had to deal was the religious difficulty. The inhabitants of the Pellice and Chisone valleys had long professed a primitive form of Christianity which the orthodox regarded as heretical, and had been subject to numerous persecutions in consequence (see Waldenses). At the time of the Reformation they had gone over to Protestantism, and during the wars of the 16th century the new religion made great progress in Piedmont. The duke as a devout Catholic desired to purge the state of heresy, and initiated repressive measures against the Waldenses, but after some severe and not very successful fighting he ended by allowing them a measure of religious liberty in those valleys (1561). At the pope’s instigation he recommenced persecution some years later, but his duchess and some German princes pleaded successfully in favour of the Protestants. He next turned his attention to getting rid of the French garrisons; the negotiations proved long and troublesome, but in December 1562 the French departed on payment of 100,000 scudi, retaining only Pinerolo and Savigliano, and Turin became the capital once more. There remained the Bernese, who had occupied some of the duke’s territories in Savoy and Vaud, and in Geneva, over which he claimed certain rights. With Bern he made a compromise, regaining Gex, the Chablais, and the Genevois, on condition that Protestantism should be tolerated there, but he renounced Vaud and some other districts (1566). Disagreements with the Valais were settled in a similar way in 1569; but the Genevans refused to recognize Savoyard 342 suzerainty. Emmanuel reformed the currency, reorganized justice, prepared the way for the emancipation of the serfs, raised the standing army to 25,000 men, and fortified the frontiers, ostensibly against Huguenot raids, but in reality from fear of France. On the death of Charles IX. of France in 1574 the new king, Henry III., passed through Piedmont on his way from Poland; Emmanuel gave him a magnificent reception, and obtained from him a promise that Pinerolo and Savigliano should be evacuated, which was carried out at the end of the year. Philip of Spain was likewise induced to evacuate Asti and Santhià in 1575. Thus, after being more or less under foreign occupation for 39 years, the duchy was at last free. The duke rounded off his dominions by the purchase of Tenda and Oneglia, which increased his seaboard, and the last years of his life were spent in fruitless negotiations to obtain Monferrato, held by the Gonzagas under Spanish protection, and Saluzzo, which was a French fief. He died on the 30th of August 1580, and was succeeded by his son Charles Emmanuel I. As a statesman Emmanuel Philibert was able, business-like and energetic; but he has been criticized for his duplicity, although in this respect he was no worse than most other European princes, whose ends were far more questionable. He was autocratic, but just and very patriotic. During his reign the duchy, which had been more than half French, became predominantly Italian. By diplomacy, which, although he was a capable and brave soldier, he preferred to war, he succeeded in freeing his country, and converting it from a ruined and divided land into a respectable independent power of the second rank, and, after Venice, the best-governed state in Italy.
One of the first challenges he faced was the religious issue. The people in the Pellice and Chisone valleys had long followed a basic form of Christianity that the orthodox considered heretical, leading to many persecutions (see Waldenses). During the Reformation, they adopted Protestantism, and in the 16th century, the new faith gained significant ground in Piedmont. The duke, a devoted Catholic, wanted to rid the state of heresy and began strict actions against the Waldenses, but after some intense and largely ineffective fighting, he eventually allowed them some religious freedom in those valleys (1561). At the pope's urging, he resumed persecution a few years later, but his duchess and some German princes successfully advocated for the Protestants. He then focused on removing the French troops; the negotiations were lengthy and challenging, but by December 1562, the French left after a payment of 100,000 scudi, keeping only Pinerolo and Savigliano, and Turin became the capital again. Next, there were the Bernese, who had taken some of the duke's territories in Savoy and Vaud, along with Geneva, where he claimed certain rights. He made a deal with Bern, regaining Gex, the Chablais, and the Genevois, on the condition that Protestantism would be tolerated there, but he gave up Vaud and some other areas (1566). Disputes with Valais were resolved similarly in 1569, but the Genevans refused to acknowledge Savoyard 342 authority. Emmanuel reformed the currency, reorganized the justice system, laid the groundwork for serf emancipation, expanded the standing army to 25,000 men, and fortified the borders, officially against Huguenot raids but actually out of fear of France. After the death of Charles IX of France in 1574, the new king, Henry III, passed through Piedmont on his way from Poland; Emmanuel warmly welcomed him and secured a promise for the evacuation of Pinerolo and Savigliano, which occurred by the end of the year. Philip of Spain was also persuaded to leave Asti and Santhià in 1575. Thus, after nearly 39 years of foreign occupation, the duchy was finally free. The duke expanded his territories by purchasing Tenda and Oneglia, which increased his coastline, and spent his last years in fruitless negotiations to acquire Monferrato, held by the Gonzagas under Spanish protection, and Saluzzo, which was a French fief. He died on August 30, 1580, and was succeeded by his son Charles Emmanuel I. As a statesman, Emmanuel Philibert was capable, pragmatic, and energetic; however, he faced criticism for his deceitfulness, though he was no worse than many other European rulers, whose motives were often more questionable. He was authoritarian but fair and deeply patriotic. During his reign, the duchy, which had been more than half French, became predominantly Italian. Through diplomacy, which he preferred over military conflict, he successfully liberated his country and transformed it from a devastated and fragmented land into a respectable independent power of the second rank, and after Venice, the best-governed state in Italy.
The most accurate biography of Emmanuel Philibert is contained in E. Ricotti’s Storia della monarchia Piemontese, vol. ii. (Florence, 1861), which is well done and based on documents; cf. Claretta’s La Successione di Emanuele Filiberto (Turin, 1884).
The best biography of Emmanuel Philibert can be found in E. Ricotti’s Storia della monarchia Piemontese, vol. ii. (Florence, 1861), which is well-crafted and relies on documents; see also Claretta’s La Successione di Emanuele Filiberto (Turin, 1884).
1. A village mentioned by Luke (xxiv. 13), without any indication of direction, as being 60 stadia (almost 7 m.), or according to some MSS.1 160 stadia, from Jerusalem. Its identification is a matter of mere guesswork: it has been sought at (a) Emmaus-Nicopolis (see 2 below), distant 176 stadia from Jerusalem; (b) Kuryet el-‘Enab, distant 66 stadia, on the carriage road to Jaffa; (c) Kulonieh, distant 36 stadia, on the same road; (d) el-Kubeibeh, distant 63 stadia, on the Roman road to Lydda; (e) ’Urtas, distant 60 stadia; and (f) Khurbet el-Khamasa, distant 86 stadia, on the Roman road to Eleutheropolis. Of these, el-Kubeibeh or ‘Urtas seems the most probable, though many favour Kulonieh because of its nearness to Bet Mizza, in which name there is similarity with Emmaus, and because of a reading (30 stadia) in Josephus.
1. A village mentioned by Luke (xxiv. 13), without any indication of direction, is said to be 60 stadia (almost 7 miles), or according to some manuscripts, 160 stadia, from Jerusalem. Identifying it is purely speculative: it has been sought at (a) Emmaus-Nicopolis (see 2 below), which is 176 stadia from Jerusalem; (b) Kuryet el-‘Enab, 66 stadia away, on the road to Jaffa; (c) Kulonieh, 36 stadia away, on the same road; (d) el-Kubeibeh, 63 stadia away, on the Roman road to Lydda; (e) ’Urtas, 60 stadia away; and (f) Khurbet el-Khamasa, 86 stadia away, on the Roman road to Eleutheropolis. Among these, el-Kubeibeh or ’Urtas seems the most likely, although many prefer Kulonieh due to its proximity to Bet Mizza, which shares a name similarity with Emmaus, and because of a reading (30 stadia) from Josephus.
2. Emmaus-Nicopolis, now ‘Amwās, a town on the maritime plain, and a place of importance during the Maccabaean and Jewish wars. Near it Judas Maccabaeus defeated Gorgias in 164 B.C., and Vespasian established a fortified camp in A.D. 69. It was afterwards rebuilt and named Nicopolis, and became an episcopal see. It was also noted for a healing spring.
2. Emmaus-Nicopolis, now known as ‘Amwās, is a town on the coastal plain and was significant during the Maccabean and Jewish wars. Nearby, Judas Maccabaeus defeated Gorgias in 164 B.C., and Vespasian set up a fortified camp in A.D. 69. It was later rebuilt and renamed Nicopolis, becoming an episcopal see. The town was also famous for a healing spring.
1 Including Codex א. But this distance is too great for the conditions of Luke’s narrative and the reading (160) is evidently an attempt to harmonize with the traditional identification of Emmaus-Nicopolis held by Eusebius and Jerome. For a curious reading in three old Latin MSS, which makes Emmaus the name of the second traveller on the journey, see Expos. Times, xiii. 429, 477, 561.
1 Including Codex א. But this distance is too far for the context of Luke’s story, and the reading (160) is clearly an effort to align with the traditional identification of Emmaus-Nicopolis by Eusebius and Jerome. For an interesting reading in three old Latin manuscripts that names Emmaus as the name of the second traveler on the journey, see Expos. Times, xiii. 429, 477, 561.
EMMENDINGEN, a town of Germany, in the grand-duchy of Baden, close to the Black Forest, on the Elz and the main line of railway Mannheim-Constance. Pop. 6200. It has a Protestant church with a fine spire, a Roman Catholic church, a handsome town-hall, an old castle (now a hospital), once the residence of the counts of Hochberg, spinning mills, tanneries and manufactures of photographic instruments, paper, machinery and cigars. There is also a considerable trade in timber and cattle. Here the author Johann Georg Schlosser (1739-1799), the husband of Goethe’s sister Cornelia (who died in 1777 and is interred in the old graveyard), was Oberamtmann (bailiff) for a few years.
EMMENDINGEN is a town in Germany's grand duchy of Baden, near the Black Forest, situated on the Elz River and the main Mannheim-Constance railway line. Its population is 6,200. The town features a Protestant church with a striking spire, a Roman Catholic church, a beautiful town hall, and an old castle (now converted into a hospital) that once served as the residence of the counts of Hochberg. There are spinning mills, tanneries, and manufacturers of photographic instruments, paper, machinery, and cigars. The town also has a significant trade in timber and cattle. Here, the author Johann Georg Schlosser (1739-1799), who was married to Goethe’s sister Cornelia (who passed away in 1777 and is buried in the old graveyard), served as the Oberamtmann (bailiff) for a few years.
Emmendingen was formerly the seat of the counts of Hochberg, a cadet branch of the margraves of Baden. In 1418 it received market rights from the emperor, and in 1590 was raised to the status of a town, and walled, by Margrave Jacob III.
Emmendingen used to be the residence of the counts of Hochberg, a branch of the margraves of Baden. In 1418, it was granted market rights by the emperor, and in 1590, Margrave Jacob III declared it a town and fortified it with walls.
EMMERICH (the ancient Embrica), a town of Germany, in the Prussian Rhine province, on the right bank of the Rhine and the railway from Cologne to Amsterdam, 5 m. N.E. of Cleves. Pop. (1905) 12,578. It has a considerable shipping trade, and manufactories of tobacco and cigars, chocolate, margarine, oil, chemicals, brushes, vinegar, soap, guano and perfumery. There are also iron foundries and machine factories. The old minster church, built in the middle of the 11th century, contains some fine choir stalls.
EMMERICH (the ancient Embrica), a town in Germany, located in the Prussian Rhine province on the right bank of the Rhine and along the railway from Cologne to Amsterdam, is 5 miles northeast of Cleves. Population (1905) was 12,578. The town has a significant shipping industry and factories that produce tobacco and cigars, chocolate, margarine, oil, chemicals, brushes, vinegar, soap, fertilizer, and perfumes. There are also iron foundries and machine shops. The old minster church, built in the mid-11th century, features some beautiful choir stalls.
Emmerich, formerly called Embrika and Emrik, originally a Roman colony, is mentioned in records so early as the 7th century. St Willibrord founded a monastery and church here. In 1233 the place came into the possession of the dukes of Gelderland and received the status of a town in 1247. In 1371 it fell to the duchy of Cleves, and passed with it in 1609 to Brandenburg. The town joined the Hanseatic League in 1407. In 1794 it was bombarded by the French under General Vandamme, and in 1806 it was assigned to the grand-duchy of Berg. It passed into the possession of Prussia in 1815.
Emmerich, previously known as Embrika and Emrik, was originally a Roman colony and is mentioned in records as early as the 7th century. St Willibrord established a monastery and church here. In 1233, the town came under the control of the dukes of Gelderland and was granted town status in 1247. In 1371, it became part of the duchy of Cleves, which later transferred to Brandenburg in 1609. The town joined the Hanseatic League in 1407. In 1794, it was bombarded by the French forces led by General Vandamme, and in 1806 it was assigned to the grand-duchy of Berg. It came under Prussian control in 1815.
See A. Dederich, Annalen der Stadt Emmerich (Emmerich, 1867).
See A. Dederich, Annals of the City of Emmerich (Emmerich, 1867).
EMMET, ROBERT (1778-1803), Irish rebel, youngest son of Robert Emmet, physician to the lord-lieutenant of Ireland, was born in Dublin in 1778, and entered Trinity College in October 1793, where he had a distinguished academic career, showing special aptitude for mathematics and chemistry, and acquiring a reputation as an orator. Without taking a degree he removed his name from the college books in April 1798, as a protest against the inquisitorial examination of the political views of the students conducted by Lord Clare as chancellor of the university. Thus cut off from entering a learned profession, he turned towards political intrigue, being already to some extent in the secrets of the United Irishmen, of whom his elder brother Thomas Addis Emmet (see below) was one of the most prominent. In April 1799 a warrant was issued for his arrest, but was not executed; and in 1800 and the following year he travelled on the continent of Europe, where he entered into relations with the leaders of the United Irishmen, exiled since the rebellion of 1798, who were planning a fresh outbreak in Ireland in expectation of support from France. Emmet went to Paris in October 1802, where he had an interview with Bonaparte which convinced him that the peace of Amiens would be of short duration and that a French invasion of England might be looked for in August 1803. The councils of the conspirators were weakened by divided opinions as to the ultimate aim of their policy; and no clearly thought-out scheme of operations appears to have been arrived at when Emmet left Paris for Ireland in October 1802. Those in his confidence afterwards denied that Emmet was himself the originator of the plan on which he acted; and several of the ablest of the United Irishmen held aloof, believing the project to be impracticable. Among the latter was Lord Cloncurry, at one time on the executive of the United Irishmen, with whom Emmet dined the night before he left Paris, and to whom he spoke of his plans with intense enthusiasm and excitement. Emmet’s lack of discretion was shown by his revealing his intentions in detail to an Englishman named Lawrence, resident near Honfleur, with whom he sought shelter when travelling on foot on his way to Ireland. Arriving in Dublin at the end of October he received information to the effect that seventeen counties were ready to take up arms if a successful effort were made in Dublin. For some time he remained concealed in his father’s house near Miltown, making his preparations. A large number of pikes were collected and stored in Dublin during the spring of 1803, but fire-arms and ammunition were not plentiful.
EMMET, ROBERT (1778-1803), Irish rebel, youngest son of Robert Emmet, a physician to the lord-lieutenant of Ireland, was born in Dublin in 1778. He started attending Trinity College in October 1793, where he excelled academically, especially in mathematics and chemistry, and gained a reputation as a skilled speaker. Without earning a degree, he withdrew from the college in April 1798 in protest against the invasive questioning of students' political beliefs conducted by Lord Clare, the university's chancellor. With his path to a professional career blocked, he turned to political maneuvering and was already somewhat involved in the activities of the United Irishmen, whose most notable member was his older brother, Thomas Addis Emmet. In April 1799, a warrant was issued for his arrest, but it was never carried out. In 1800 and the following year, he traveled across Europe, connecting with the exiled leaders of the United Irishmen who had fled after the 1798 rebellion, as they were planning another uprising in Ireland, hoping for support from France. Emmet arrived in Paris in October 1802, where he met with Bonaparte, who convinced him that the peace treaty of Amiens would not last long and that a French invasion of England could be expected in August 1803. The conspirators' plans were undermined by differing opinions about their ultimate goals, and no well-defined operation plan seems to have been established when Emmet left Paris for Ireland in October 1802. Those who trusted him later claimed that Emmet wasn't the original creator of the plan he followed; many of the more competent United Irishmen distanced themselves, considering the project unfeasible. Among them was Lord Cloncurry, who had once been part of the United Irishmen's executive, and who dined with Emmet the night before he departed Paris. Emmet spoke passionately about his plans during that dinner. His lack of caution was evident when he shared details of his intentions with an Englishman named Lawrence, who lived near Honfleur and offered him shelter while he was traveling to Ireland on foot. Upon arriving in Dublin at the end of October, he learned that seventeen counties were prepared to take up arms if a successful operation was launched in Dublin. He concealed himself in his father's house near Miltown for a while as he made his preparations. Throughout the spring of 1803, a large number of pikes were gathered and stored in Dublin, but firearms and ammunition were scarce.
The probability of a French invasion in August was increased by the renewal of the war in May, Emmet’s brother Thomas being then in Paris in communication with Talleyrand and Bonaparte. But a discovery by the government of concealed 343 arms, and an explosion at one of Emmet’s depôts in Patrick Street on the 16th of July, necessitated immediate action, and the 23rd of that month was accordingly fixed for the projected rising. An elaborate plan of operations, which he described in detail in a letter to his brother after his arrest, had been prepared by Emmet, the leading feature of which was a simultaneous attack on the castle, the Pigeon House and the artillery barracks at Island bridge; while bodies of insurgents from the neighbouring counties were to march on the capital. But the whole scheme miscarried. Some of Emmet’s bolder proposals, such as a plan for capturing the commander-in-chief, were vetoed by the timidity of his associates, none of whom were men of any ability. On the 23rd of July all was confusion at the depôts, and the leaders were divided as to the course to be pursued; orders were not obeyed; a trusted messenger despatched for arms absconded with the money committed to him to pay for them; treachery, quite unsuspected by Emmet, honeycombed the conspiracy; the Wicklow contingent failed to appear; the Kildare men turned back on hearing that the rising had been postponed; a signal expected by a contingent at the Broadstone was never given. In this hopeless state of affairs a false report reached Emmet at one of his depôts at nine o’clock in the evening that the military were approaching. Without taking any step to verify it, Emmet put on a green and white uniform and placed himself at the head of some eighty men, who marched towards the castle, being joined in the streets by a second body of about equal strength. None of these insurgents had any discipline, and many of them were drunk. Lord Kilwarden, proceeding to a hastily summoned meeting of the privy council, was dragged from his carriage by this rabble and murdered, together with his nephew Richard Wolfe; his daughter who accompanied him being conveyed to safety by Emmet himself. Emmet, now seeing that the rising had become a mere street brawl, made his escape; a detachment of soldiers quickly dispersed his followers.
The likelihood of a French invasion in August increased with the renewal of the war in May, as Emmet’s brother Thomas was in Paris communicating with Talleyrand and Bonaparte. However, a government discovery of hidden 343 weapons, along with an explosion at one of Emmet’s depots on Patrick Street on July 16th, required immediate action, so the 23rd of that month was set for the planned uprising. Emmet had prepared a detailed operations plan, described in a letter to his brother after his arrest, which primarily involved a simultaneous attack on the castle, the Pigeon House, and the artillery barracks at Island Bridge while insurgents from nearby counties were to march toward the capital. But the entire plan fell apart. Some of Emmet’s bolder ideas, like capturing the commander-in-chief, were blocked by the hesitation of his associates, none of whom were particularly capable. On July 23rd, chaos reigned at the depots, and the leaders disagreed on the next steps; orders were ignored; a trusted messenger sent to get weapons ran off with the money meant for them; betrayal, completely unforeseen by Emmet, weakened the conspiracy; the Wicklow group failed to show up; the Kildare men turned back upon hearing that the uprising had been postponed; a signal expected by another group at Broadstone was never given. In this desperate situation, a false report reached Emmet at one of his depots at nine in the evening, claiming that the military were coming. Without verifying it, Emmet donned a green and white uniform and led about eighty men toward the castle, joining forces in the streets with another group of roughly the same size. None of these insurgents were disciplined, and many were drunk. Lord Kilwarden, heading to a hurriedly called meeting of the privy council, was pulled from his carriage by this mob and murdered, along with his nephew Richard Wolfe; his daughter, who was with him, was rescued by Emmet. Realizing that the uprising had devolved into a simple street fight, Emmet made his escape, as a detachment of soldiers quickly scattered his followers.
After hiding for some days in the Wicklow mountains Emmet repaired to the house of a Mrs Palmer at Harold’s Cross, in order to be near the residence of John Philpot Curran (q.v.), to whose daughter Sarah he had for some time been secretly attached, and with whom he had carried on a voluminous correspondence, afterwards seized by the authorities at her father’s house. Attempting without success to persuade this lady to fly with him to America, Emmet lingered in the neighbourhood till the 25th of August, when he was apprehended by Major H.C. Sirr, the same officer who had captured Lord Edward Fitzgerald in 1798. At his trial he was defended and betrayed by the infamous Leonard MacNally (q.v.), and was convicted of treason; and after delivering an eloquent speech from the dock, was hanged on the 20th of September 1803.
After hiding for a few days in the Wicklow Mountains, Emmet went to stay at Mrs. Palmer's house in Harold’s Cross so he could be close to John Philpot Curran's home, since he had been secretly in love with Curran's daughter, Sarah. They had been exchanging many letters, which were later seized by the authorities at her father's house. After failing to convince her to escape with him to America, Emmet stayed in the area until August 25th, when Major H.C. Sirr, the same officer who had captured Lord Edward Fitzgerald in 1798, arrested him. During his trial, he was defended and betrayed by the infamous Leonard MacNally and was convicted of treason. After giving a powerful speech from the dock, he was hanged on September 20, 1803.
By the universal testimony of his friends, Robert Emmet was a youth of modest character, pure motives and winning personality. But he was entirely lacking in practical statesmanship. Brought up in a revolutionary atmosphere, his enthusiasm was uncontrolled by judgment. Thomas Moore, who warmly eulogizes Emmet, with whom he was a student at Trinity College, records that one day when he was playing on the piano the melody “Let Erin remember,” Emmet started up exclaiming passionately, “Oh, that I were at the head of 20,000 men marching to that air!” He had no knowledge of the world or of men; he trusted every one with child-like simplicity; except personal courage he had none of the qualities essential to leadership in such an enterprise as armed rebellion. The romance of his love affair with Sarah Curran—who afterwards married Robert Henry Sturgeon, an officer distinguished in the Peninsular War—has cast a glamour over the memory of Robert Emmet; and it inspired Thomas Moore’s well-known songs, “She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps,” and “Oh, breathe not his name”; it is also the subject of Washington Irving’s “The Broken Heart.” Emmet was short and slight in figure; his face was marked by smallpox, and he was described in 1803 for the purpose of identification as being “of an ugly, sour countenance and dirty brown complexion.” A few poems by Emmet of little merit are appended to Madden’s biography.
By the shared accounts of his friends, Robert Emmet was a young man of humble character, genuine intentions, and a charming personality. However, he completely lacked practical political skills. Growing up in a revolutionary environment, his passion was not moderated by reason. Thomas Moore, who praised Emmet highly and studied with him at Trinity College, recounts an instance when Emmet passionately exclaimed while Moore played the tune “Let Erin remember,” saying, “Oh, that I were at the head of 20,000 men marching to that air!” He had no understanding of the world or people; he trusted everyone with a child-like innocence. Aside from his personal bravery, he lacked the qualities necessary for leadership in an armed uprising. The romance between him and Sarah Curran—who later married Robert Henry Sturgeon, an officer celebrated for his role in the Peninsular War—has added a romantic aura to the memory of Robert Emmet and inspired Thomas Moore’s famous songs, “She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps,” and “Oh, breathe not his name”; it also features in Washington Irving’s “The Broken Heart.” Emmet was short and slender; his face bore the marks of smallpox, and he was described in 1803 for identification as having “an ugly, sour countenance and a dirty brown complexion.” A few unremarkable poems by Emmet are included in Madden’s biography.
See R.R. Madden, The United Irishmen, their Lives and Times (2nd ed. 4 vols., Dublin, 1858-1860); Charles Phillips, Recollections of Curran and Some of his Contemporaries (2nd ed., London, 1822); Henry Grattan, Memoirs of the Life and Times of the Right Hon. H. Grattan (5 vols., London, 1839-1846); W.H. Maxwell, History of the Irish Rebellion in 1798; with Memoirs of the Union and Emmet’s Insurrection in 1803 (London, 1845); W.H. Curran, Life of J.P. Curran (2 vols., Edinburgh, 1822); Thomas Moore, Life and Death of Lord Edward Fitzgerald (2 vols. 3rd ed., London, 1832); and Memoirs, Journals and Correspondence of Thomas Moore, edited by Lord John Russell (8 vols., London, 1853-1856).
See R.R. Madden, The United Irishmen, their Lives and Times (2nd ed. 4 vols., Dublin, 1858-1860); Charles Phillips, Recollections of Curran and Some of his Contemporaries (2nd ed., London, 1822); Henry Grattan, Memoirs of the Life and Times of the Right Hon. H. Grattan (5 vols., London, 1839-1846); W.H. Maxwell, History of the Irish Rebellion in 1798; with Memoirs of the Union and Emmet’s Insurrection in 1803 (London, 1845); W.H. Curran, Life of J.P. Curran (2 vols., Edinburgh, 1822); Thomas Moore, Life and Death of Lord Edward Fitzgerald (2 vols. 3rd ed., London, 1832); and Memoirs, Journals and Correspondence of Thomas Moore, edited by Lord John Russell (8 vols., London, 1853-1856).
EMMET, THOMAS ADDIS (1764-1827), Irish lawyer and politician, second son of Robert Emmet, physician to the lord-lieutenant of Ireland, and elder brother of Robert Emmet (q.v.), the rebel, was born at Cork on the 24th of April 1764, and was educated at Trinity College, Dublin, and at Edinburgh University, where he studied medicine and was a pupil of Dugald Stewart in philosophy. After visiting the chief medical schools on the continent, he returned to Ireland in 1788; but the sudden death of his elder brother, Christopher Temple Emmet (1761-1788), a barrister of some distinction, induced him to follow the advice of Sir James Mackintosh to forsake medicine for the law as a profession. He was called to the Irish bar in 1790, and quickly obtained a practice, principally as counsel for prisoners charged with political offences, and became the legal adviser of the leading United Irishmen. When the Dublin corporation issued a declaration of Protestant ascendancy in 1792, the counter-manifesto of the United Irishmen was drawn up by Emmet; and in 1795 he took the oath of the society in open court, becoming secretary in the same year and a member of the executive in 1797. Although Grattan had a profound contempt for Emmet’s political understanding, describing him as a quack in politics who set up his own crude notions as settled rules, Emmet was among the more prudent of the United Irishmen on the eve of the rebellion. It was only when convinced that parliamentary reform and Catholic emancipation were not to be obtained by constitutional methods, that he reluctantly engaged in treasonable conspiracy; and in opposition to bolder spirits like Lord Edward Fitzgerald, he discountenanced the taking up of arms until help should be obtained from France. Though not among those taken at the house of Oliver Bond on the 12th of March 1798 (see Fitzgerald, Lord Edward), he was arrested about the same time, and he was one of the leaders who after the rebellion were imprisoned at Fort George till 1802. Being then released, he went to Brussels, where he was visited by his brother Robert in October of that year; and he was in the secrets of those who were preparing for a fresh rising in Ireland in conjunction with French aid. After the failure of Robert Emmet’s rising in July 1803, the news of which reached him in Paris, where he was in communication with Bonaparte, he emigrated to the United States. Joining the New York bar he obtained a lucrative practice and in 1812-13 was attorney-general of New York; his abilities and success being such that Judge Story declared him to be “by universal consent in the first rank of American advocates.” He died while conducting a case in court on the 14th of November 1827. Thomas Emmet married, in 1791, Jane, daughter of the Rev. John Patten, of Clonmel.
EMMET, THOMAS ADDIS (1764-1827), Irish lawyer and politician, was the second son of Robert Emmet, physician to the lord-lieutenant of Ireland, and the older brother of Robert Emmet (q.v.), the rebel. He was born in Cork on April 24, 1764, and educated at Trinity College, Dublin, and Edinburgh University, where he studied medicine and was a student of Dugald Stewart in philosophy. After attending major medical schools on the continent, he returned to Ireland in 1788. However, the sudden death of his older brother, Christopher Temple Emmet (1761-1788), a barrister of some distinction, led him to follow the advice of Sir James Mackintosh to abandon medicine for law. He was called to the Irish bar in 1790 and quickly established a practice, mainly representing prisoners charged with political offenses, eventually becoming the legal adviser to prominent United Irishmen. When the Dublin corporation issued a declaration of Protestant ascendancy in 1792, Emmet drafted the counter-manifesto for the United Irishmen. He took the oath of the society in open court in 1795, becoming secretary that same year and a member of the executive in 1797. Although Grattan held a low opinion of Emmet’s political insight, calling him a quack in politics who imposed his own crude ideas as established rules, Emmet was one of the more cautious United Irishmen before the rebellion. It was only when he realized that parliamentary reform and Catholic emancipation couldn't be achieved through constitutional means that he reluctantly became involved in treasonable conspiracy; unlike bolder figures like Lord Edward Fitzgerald, he opposed taking up arms until support could be secured from France. He wasn’t among those arrested at Oliver Bond's house on March 12, 1798 (see Fitzgerald, Lord Edward), but he was detained around the same time and was one of the leaders imprisoned at Fort George until 1802. After his release, he went to Brussels, where his brother Robert visited him in October of that year; he was involved with those planning a new uprising in Ireland with French support. Following the failure of Robert Emmet’s uprising in July 1803, which he heard about while in Paris communicating with Bonaparte, he emigrated to the United States. He joined the New York bar, gained a profitable practice, and served as attorney-general of New York from 1812 to 1813; his talents and achievements were so notable that Judge Story stated he was “by universal consent in the first rank of American advocates.” He died while arguing a case in court on November 14, 1827. Thomas Emmet married Jane, daughter of Rev. John Patten of Clonmel, in 1791.
See authorities under Emmet, Robert; also Alfred Webb, Compendium of Irish Biography (Dublin, 1878); C.S. Haynes, Memoirs of Thomas Addis Emmet (London, 1829); Theobald Wolfe Tone, Memoirs, edited by W.T.W. Tone (2 vols., London, 1827); W.E.H. Lecky, Hist. of Ireland in the Eighteenth Century, vol. iv. (Cabinet edition, 5 vols., London, 1892).
See authorities under Emmet, Robert; also Alfred Webb, Compendium of Irish Biography (Dublin, 1878); C.S. Haynes, Memoirs of Thomas Addis Emmet (London, 1829); Theobald Wolfe Tone, Memoirs, edited by W.T.W. Tone (2 vols., London, 1827); W.E.H. Lecky, Hist. of Ireland in the Eighteenth Century, vol. iv. (Cabinet edition, 5 vols., London, 1892).
EMMETT, DANIEL DECATUR (1815-1904), American songwriter, was born at Mount Vernon, Ohio. He started the “negro minstrel” performances, which from 1842 onwards became so popular in America and England, and he composed a number of songs which had a great temporary vogue. He is remembered particularly as the writer of the famous Southern war-song “Dixie,” which he composed in 1859.
EMMETT, DANIEL DECATUR (1815-1904), American songwriter, was born in Mount Vernon, Ohio. He started the “Black minstrel” performances, which became very popular in America and England from 1842 onward, and he wrote several songs that enjoyed significant popularity for a time. He is best remembered as the writer of the famous Southern war song “Dixie,” which he composed in 1859.
EMMITSBURG, a town in Frederick county, Maryland, U.S.A., 61 m. by rail W. by N. of Baltimore, and 1½ m. S. of the northern boundary of the state. Pop. (1900) 849; (1910) 1054. It is served by the Emmitsburg railway (7 m. long) to Rocky Ridge on the Western Maryland railway. The town is 344 in a picturesque region on the eastern slope of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Two miles S.W. is Mount St. Mary’s College (Roman Catholic), founded in 1808 by the Rev. John du Bois (1764-1842)—its president until 1826, when he became bishop of New York—and chartered by the state in 1830. The Ecclesiastical Seminary of the college has been a great training school, and has been called the “Nursery of Bishops”; among its graduates have been Bishop Hughes, Cardinal McCloskey and Archbishop Corrigan. In 1908 the college had 25 instructors and 350 students, of whom 57 were in the Ecclesiastical Seminary, and 61 in the Minim Department. Half a mile S. of the town is St Joseph’s College and Academy (incorporated in 1816), for young women, which is conducted by the Sisters of Charity—this order was introduced into the United States at Emmitsburg by Mrs Elizabeth Ann Seton in 1809. The first settlement at Emmitsburg was made about 1773. It was at first called “Silver Fancy,” and then for a time was known as “Poplar Fields”; but in 1786 the present name was adopted in honour of William Emmitt, one of the original settlers. The town was incorporated in 1824.
EMMITSBURG, a town in Frederick County, Maryland, U.S.A., is located 61 miles by rail west-northwest of Baltimore, and 1½ miles south of the northern boundary of the state. Population (1900) was 849; (1910) was 1054. It is served by the Emmitsburg railway, which is 7 miles long, connecting to Rocky Ridge on the Western Maryland railway. The town is 344 in a beautiful area on the eastern slope of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Two miles southwest is Mount St. Mary’s College (Roman Catholic), founded in 1808 by Rev. John du Bois (1764-1842)—who served as its president until 1826 when he became the bishop of New York—and chartered by the state in 1830. The college's Ecclesiastical Seminary has been a significant training institution, often referred to as the “Nursery of Bishops”; its graduates include Bishop Hughes, Cardinal McCloskey, and Archbishop Corrigan. In 1908, the college had 25 instructors and 350 students, including 57 in the Ecclesiastical Seminary and 61 in the Minim Department. Half a mile south of the town is St. Joseph’s College and Academy (incorporated in 1816), which serves young women and is run by the Sisters of Charity—this order was introduced into the United States at Emmitsburg by Mrs. Elizabeth Ann Seton in 1809. The first settlement in Emmitsburg was established around 1773. It was initially called “Silver Fancy,” later known as “Poplar Fields”; however, in 1786 the town adopted its current name in honor of William Emmitt, one of the original settlers. The town was incorporated in 1824.
EMMIUS, UBBO (1547-1625), Dutch historian and geographer, was born at Gretha in East Friesland on the 5th of December 1547. After studying at Rostock, he spent two years in Geneva, where he became intimate with Theodore Beza; and returning to the Netherlands was appointed the principal of a college at Norden, a position which he lost in 1587 because, as a Calvinist, he would not subscribe to the confession of Augsburg. Subsequently he was head of a college at Leer, and in 1594 became rector of the college at Groningen, and when in 1614 this college became a university he was chosen principal and professor of history and Greek, and by his wise guidance and his learning speedily raised the new university to a position of eminence. He was on friendly terms with Louis, count of Nassau; corresponded with many of the learned men of his time; and died at Groningen on the 9th of December 1625. He was twice married, and left a son and a daughter. The chief works of Emmius are: Rerum Frisicarum historiae decades, in six parts, a complete edition of which was published at Leiden in 1616; Opus chronologicum (Groningen, 1619); Vetus Graecia illustrata (Leiden, 1626); and Historia temporis nostri, which was first published at Groningen in 1732. An account of his life, written by Nicholas Mulerius, was published, with the lives of other professors of Groningen, at Groningen in 1638.
EMMIUS, UBBO (1547-1625), a Dutch historian and geographer, was born in Gretha, East Friesland on December 5, 1547. After studying at Rostock, he spent two years in Geneva, where he became close friends with Theodore Beza. He returned to the Netherlands and was appointed head of a college in Norden, but lost the position in 1587 because, as a Calvinist, he wouldn't subscribe to the Augsburg Confession. Later, he became the head of a college in Leer, and in 1594 he was appointed rector of the college in Groningen. When this college became a university in 1614, he was chosen as its principal and professor of history and Greek. Through his wise leadership and scholarship, he quickly elevated the new university to a prominent status. He had a friendly relationship with Louis, Count of Nassau, corresponded with many learned individuals of his time, and passed away in Groningen on December 9, 1625. He was married twice and had a son and a daughter. Emmius's major works include: Rerum Frisicarum historiae decades, in six parts, with a complete edition published in Leiden in 1616; Opus chronologicum (Groningen, 1619); Vetus Graecia illustrata (Leiden, 1626); and Historia temporis nostri, first published in Groningen in 1732. An account of his life written by Nicholas Mulerius was published, along with the lives of other professors from Groningen, in Groningen in 1638.
See N.G. van Kampen, Geschiedenis der letteren en wetenschappen in de Nederlanden (The Hague, 1821-1826).
See N.G. van Kampen, Geschiedenis der letteren en wetenschappen in de Nederlanden (The Hague, 1821-1826).
EMMONS, EBENEZER (1800-1863), American geologist, was born at Middlefield, Massachusetts, on the 16th of May 1800. He studied medicine at Albany, and after taking his degree practised for some years in Berkshire county. His interest in geology was kindled in early life, and in 1824 he had assisted Prof. Chester Dewey (1784-1867) in preparing a geological map of Berkshire county, in which the first attempt was made to classify the rocks of the Taconic area. While thus giving much of his time to natural science, undertaking professional work in natural history and geology in Williams College, he also accepted the professorship of chemistry and afterwards of obstetrics in the Albany Medical College. The chief work of his life was, however, in geology, and he has been designated by Jules Marcou as “the founder of American palaeozoic stratigraphy, and the first discoverer of the primordial fauna in any country.” In 1836 he became attached to the Geological Survey of the State of New York, and after lengthened study he grouped the local strata (1842) into the Taconic and overlying New York systems. The latter system was subdivided into several groups that were by no means well defined. Emmons had previously described the Potsdam sandstone (1838), and this was placed at the base of the New York system. It is now regarded as Upper Cambrian. In 1844 Emmons for the first time obtained fossils in his Taconic system: a notable discovery because the species obtained were found to differ from all then-known Palaeozoic fossils, and they were regarded as representing the primordial group. Marcou was thus led to advocate that the term Taconic be generally adopted in place of Cambrian. Nevertheless the Taconic fauna of Emmons has proved to include only the lower part of Sedgwick’s Cambrian. Considerable discussion has taken place on the question of the Taconic system, and whether the term should be adopted; and the general opinion has been adverse. Emmons made contributions on agriculture and geology to a series of volumes on the natural history of New York. He also issued a work entitled American Geology; containing a statement of the principles of the Science, with full illustrations of the characteristic American Fossils (1855-1857). From 1851 to 1860 he was state geologist of North Carolina. He died at Brunswick, North Carolina, on the 1st of October 1863.
EMMONS, EBENEZER (1800-1863), American geologist, was born in Middlefield, Massachusetts, on May 16, 1800. He studied medicine in Albany, and after earning his degree, he practiced for several years in Berkshire County. His interest in geology sparked early in his life, and in 1824, he assisted Prof. Chester Dewey (1784-1867) in creating a geological map of Berkshire County, which was the first attempt to classify the rocks of the Taconic area. While dedicating much of his time to natural sciences and taking on professional work in natural history and geology at Williams College, he also accepted professorships in chemistry and later obstetrics at Albany Medical College. However, his main focus was on geology, and he has been referred to by Jules Marcou as “the founder of American Paleozoic stratigraphy, and the first discoverer of the primordial fauna in any country.” In 1836, he joined the Geological Survey of New York, and after extensive study, he grouped the local strata (1842) into the Taconic and the overlying New York systems. The latter system was divided into several groups, which were not well defined. Emmons had previously described the Potsdam sandstone (1838), which was placed at the base of the New York system and is now considered Upper Cambrian. In 1844, Emmons discovered fossils in his Taconic system for the first time: a significant finding because the species identified were found to differ from all previously known Paleozoic fossils and were regarded as representing the primordial group. This led Marcou to suggest that the term Taconic should be generally adopted instead of Cambrian. Nevertheless, the Taconic fauna identified by Emmons has been found to include only the lower part of Sedgwick’s Cambrian. There has been considerable debate over whether to use the term Taconic, and the general consensus has been against it. Emmons contributed articles on agriculture and geology to a series of volumes on the natural history of New York. He also published a work titled American Geology; containing a statement of the principles of the Science, with full illustrations of the characteristic American Fossils (1855-1857). From 1851 to 1860, he served as the state geologist of North Carolina. He passed away in Brunswick, North Carolina, on October 1, 1863.
See the Biographical Notice of Ebenezer Emmons, by J. Marcou; Amer. Geologist, vol. vii. (Jan., 1891), p. 1 (with portrait and list of publications).
See the Biographical Notice of Ebenezer Emmons, by J. Marcou; Amer. Geologist, vol. vii. (Jan., 1891), p. 1 (with portrait and list of publications).
EMMONS, NATHANAEL (1745-1840), American theologian, was born at East Haddam, Connecticut, on the 20th of April 1745. He graduated at Yale in 1767, studied theology under the Rev. John Smalley (1734-1820) at Berlin, Connecticut, and was licensed to preach in 1769. After preaching four years in New York and New Hampshire, he became, in April 1773, pastor of the Second church at Franklin (until 1778 a part of Wrentham, Massachusetts), of which he remained in charge until May 1827, when failing health compelled his relinquishment of active ministerial cares. He lived, however, for many years thereafter, dying of old age at Franklin on the 23rd of September 1840. It was as a theologian that Dr Emmons was best known, and for half a century probably no clergyman in New England exerted so wide an influence. He developed an original system of divinity, somewhat on the structural plan of that of Samuel Hopkins, and, in Emmons’s own belief, contained in and evolved from Hopkinsianism. While by no means abandoning the tenets of the old Calvinistic faith, he came to be looked upon as the chief representative of what was then known as the “new school” of theologians. His system declared that holiness and sin are free voluntary exercises; that men act freely under the divine agency; that the slightest transgression deserves eternal punishment; that it is through God’s mere grace that the penitent believer is pardoned and justified; that, in spite of total depravity, sinners ought to repent; and that regeneration is active, not passive, with the believer. Emmonsism was spread and perpetuated by more than a hundred clergymen, whom he personally trained. Politically, he was an ardent patriot during the War of Independence, and a strong Federalist afterwards, several of his political discourses attracting wide attention. He was a founder and the first president of the Massachusetts Missionary Society, and was influential in the establishment of Andover Theological Seminary. More than two hundred of his sermons and addresses were published during his lifetime. His Works were published in 6 vols. (Boston, 1842; new edition, 1861).
EMMONS, NATHANAEL (1745-1840), American theologian, was born in East Haddam, Connecticut, on April 20, 1745. He graduated from Yale in 1767 and studied theology under Rev. John Smalley (1734-1820) in Berlin, Connecticut, receiving his preaching license in 1769. After preaching for four years in New York and New Hampshire, he became the pastor of the Second Church in Franklin (which was part of Wrentham, Massachusetts, until 1778) in April 1773, serving until May 1827 when his declining health forced him to step back from active ministry. However, he lived many more years, passing away from old age in Franklin on September 23, 1840. Dr. Emmons was best known as a theologian, and for half a century, he probably had more influence than any other clergyman in New England. He developed an original system of divinity that drew somewhat from the structural plan of Samuel Hopkins, and he believed it was contained in and evolved from Hopkinsianism. While he didn’t completely abandon the principles of old Calvinism, he was seen as a leading figure of what was referred to as the “new school” of theologians. His system stated that holiness and sin are free voluntary choices; that people act freely with divine influence; that even the slightest wrongdoing deserves eternal punishment; that it is solely through God’s grace that a repentant believer is forgiven and justified; that despite total depravity, sinners should repent; and that regeneration is an active process for the believer. Emmonsism was spread and sustained by over a hundred clergy whom he personally trained. Politically, he was a vigorous patriot during the War of Independence and a strong Federalist afterward, with several of his political speeches gaining considerable attention. He was a founder and the first president of the Massachusetts Missionary Society and played a key role in establishing Andover Theological Seminary. More than two hundred of his sermons and addresses were published during his lifetime. His Works were released in 6 volumes (Boston, 1842; new edition, 1861).
See also the Memoir, by Dr E.A. Park (Andover, 1861).
See also the Memoir, by Dr. E.A. Park (Andover, 1861).
EMPEDOCLES (c. 490-430 B.C.), Greek philosopher and statesman, was Born at Agrigentum (Acragas, Girgenti) in Sicily of a distinguished family, then at the height of its glory. His grandfather Empedocles was victorious in the Olympian chariot race in 496; in 470 his father Meto was largely instrumental in the overthrow of the tyrant Thrasydaeus. We know almost nothing of his life. The numerous legends which have grown up round his name yield very little that can fairly be regarded as authentic. It seems that he carried on the democratic tradition of his house by helping to overthrow an oligarchic government which succeeded the tyranny in Agrigentum, and was invited by the citizens to become their king. That he refused the honour may have been due to a real enthusiasm for free institutions or to the prudential recognition of the peril which in those turbulent times surrounded the royal dignity. Ultimately a change in the balance of parties compelled him to leave the city, and he died in the Peloponnese of the results of an accident in 430.
EMPEDOCLES (c. 490-430 B.C.), a Greek philosopher and statesman, was born in Agrigentum (Acragas, Girgenti) in Sicily to a prominent family that was at the peak of its power. His grandfather Empedocles won the Olympian chariot race in 496; in 470, his father Meto played a major role in the downfall of the tyrant Thrasydaeus. We know almost nothing about his life. The many legends around his name offer very little that can be considered authentic. It appears that he continued his family's democratic tradition by helping to overthrow an oligarchic government that replaced the tyranny in Agrigentum, and the citizens invited him to become their king. His refusal of the honor may have stemmed from a genuine enthusiasm for democratic governance or from a wise awareness of the dangers that royal power faced during those chaotic times. Ultimately, a shift in political power forced him to leave the city, and he died in the Peloponnese due to an accident in 430.
Of his poem on nature (φύσις) there are left about 400 lines in unequal fragments out of the original 5000; of the hymns of purification (καθαρμοί) less than 100 verses remain; of the 345 other works, improbably assigned to him, nothing is known. His grand but obscure hexameters, after the example of Parmenides, delighted Lucretius. Aristotle, it is said, called him the father of rhetoric. But it was as at once statesman, prophet, physicist, physician and reformer that he most impressed the popular imagination. To his contemporaries, as to himself, he seemed more than a mere man. The Sicilians honoured his august aspect as he moved amongst them with purple robes and golden girdle, with long hair bound by a Delphic garland, and brazen sandals on his feet, and with a retinue of slaves behind him. Stories were told of the ingenuity and generosity by which he had made the marshes round Selinus salubrious, of the grotesque device by which he laid the winds that ruined the harvests of Agrigentum, and of the almost miraculous restoration to life of a woman who had long lain in a death-like trance. Legends stranger still told of his disappearance from among men. Empedocles, according to one story, was one midnight, after a feast held in his honour, called away in a blaze of glory to the gods; according to another, he had only thrown himself into the crater of Etna, in the hope that men, finding no traces of his end, would suppose him translated to heaven. But his hopes were cheated by the volcano, which cast forth his brazen sandals and betrayed his secret (Diog. Laërt. viii. 67). The people of Agrigentum have never ceased to honour his name, and even in modern times he has been celebrated by followers of Mazzini as the democrat of antiquity par excellence.
Of his poem on nature (nature), about 400 lines remain in uneven fragments out of the original 5,000; from the hymns of purification (cleansings), fewer than 100 verses are left; and nothing is known about the 345 other works improbably attributed to him. His grand but obscure hexameters, inspired by Parmenides, captivated Lucretius. It's said that Aristotle referred to him as the father of rhetoric. However, it was as a statesman, prophet, scientist, doctor, and reformer that he most captured the public's imagination. To his contemporaries, as to himself, he seemed more than just a man. The Sicilians admired his noble appearance as he walked among them in purple robes, a golden girdle, long hair adorned with a Delphic garland, brazen sandals on his feet, and followed by a group of slaves. Tales circulated about the cleverness and generosity that made the marshes around Selinus healthy, the odd trick he used to calm the winds that devastated the harvests of Agrigentum, and the almost miraculous revival of a woman who had been in a death-like trance for a long time. Even stranger legends spoke of his vanishing from among people. According to one tale, Empedocles was taken away to the gods in a blaze of glory one midnight after a feast held in his honor; according to another, he simply jumped into the crater of Etna, hoping that people, finding no evidence of his death, would think he had ascended to heaven. But the volcano betrayed him, revealing his secret when it spat out his brazen sandals (Diog. Laërt. viii. 67). The people of Agrigentum have never stopped honoring his name, and even today, he has been celebrated by followers of Mazzini as the ultimate democrat of antiquity par excellence.
As his history is uncertain, so his doctrines are hard to put together. He does not belong to any one definite school. While, on one hand, he combines much that had been suggested by Parmenides, Pythagoras and the Ionic schools, he has germs of truth that Plato and Aristotle afterwards developed; he is at once a firm believer in Orphic mysteries, and a scientific thinker, precursor of the physical scientists. There are, according to Empedocles, four ultimate elements, four primal divinities, of which are made all structures in the world—fire, air, water, earth. These four elements are eternally brought into union, and eternally parted from each other, by two divine beings or powers, love and hatred—an attractive and a repulsive force which the ordinary eye can see working amongst men, but which really pervade the whole world. According to the different proportions in which these four indestructible and unchangeable matters are combined with each other is the difference of the organic structure produced; e.g. flesh and blood are made of equal (in weight but not in volume) parts of all four elements, whereas bones are one-half fire, one-fourth earth, and one-fourth water. It is in the aggregation and segregation of elements thus arising that Empedocles, like the atomists, finds the real process which corresponds to what is popularly termed growth, increase or decrease. Nothing new comes or can come into being; the only change that can occur is a change in the juxtaposition of element with element.
As his history is unclear, his teachings are difficult to piece together. He doesn't fit into any specific school of thought. On one hand, he brings together ideas from Parmenides, Pythagoras, and the Ionian schools; on the other hand, he has insights that Plato and Aristotle later developed. He is both a firm believer in Orphic mysteries and a scientific thinker, paving the way for physical scientists. According to Empedocles, there are four fundamental elements, four primordial forces, from which everything in the world is made—fire, air, water, and earth. These four elements are constantly coming together and being separated by two divine powers or forces: love and hatred—an attractive and a repulsive force that can be seen in human interactions but truly influence the entire world. The differences in the organic structure that result from the varying proportions of these four indestructible and unchanging elements; for example, flesh and blood are made from equal (by weight but not by volume) parts of all four elements, while bones are made up of half fire, a quarter earth, and a quarter water. In the way these elements aggregate and separate, Empedocles, like the atomists, finds the real process that corresponds to what we commonly refer to as growth, increase, or decrease. Nothing new comes into existence; the only change that can happen is a change in how elements are arranged with one another.
Empedocles apparently regarded love (φιλότης) and discord (νεῖκος) as alternately holding the empire over things,—neither, however, being ever quite absent. As the best and original state, he seems to have conceived a period when love was predominant, and all the elements formed one great sphere or globe. Since that period discord had gained more sway; and the actual world was full of contrasts and oppositions, due to the combined action of both principles. His theory attempted to explain the separation of elements, the formation of earth and sea, of sun and moon, of atmosphere. But the most interesting and most matured part of his views dealt with the first origin of plants and animals, and with the physiology of man. As the elements (his deities) entered into combinations, there appeared quaint results—heads without necks, arms without shoulders. Then as these fragmentary structures met, there were seen horned heads on human bodies, bodies of oxen with men’s heads, and figures of double sex. But most of these products of natural forces disappeared as suddenly as they arose; only in those rare cases where the several parts were found adapted to each other, and casual member fitted into casual member, did the complex structures thus formed last. Thus from spontaneous aggregations of casual aggregates, which suited each other as if this had been intended, did the organic universe originally spring. Soon various influences reduced the creatures of double sex to a male and a female, and the world was replenished with organic life. It is impossible not to see in this theory a crude anticipation of the “survival of the fittest” theory of modern evolutionists.
Empedocles seems to have viewed love (philosophy) and discord (conflict) as taking turns dominating everything, though neither was ever completely absent. He imagined a time when love was in charge, and all the elements formed one large sphere or globe. Since then, discord gained more power, and the real world became filled with contrasts and oppositions, resulting from the combined effects of both forces. His theory sought to explain how elements separated and formed earth and sea, the sun and moon, and the atmosphere. However, the most intriguing and developed part of his ideas focused on the origins of plants and animals and human physiology. As the elements (which he called deities) combined, strange results emerged—heads without necks, arms without shoulders. Then, as these odd structures came together, there were horned heads on human bodies, oxen bodies with human heads, and beings with both male and female traits. Most of these natural creations vanished almost as quickly as they appeared; only in rare instances where the different parts fit together did the complex structures survive. Thus, from spontaneous gatherings of random elements that matched each other as if intended, the organic universe was originally born. Eventually, various influences led to the separation of hermaphroditic creatures into male and female, and the world became populated with living organisms. It’s hard not to see in this theory a rough precursor to the "survival of the fittest" concept in modern evolutionary theory.
As man, animal and plant are composed of the same elements in different proportions, there is an identity of nature in them all. They all have sense and understanding; in man, however, and especially in the blood at his heart, mind has its peculiar seat. But mind is always dependent upon the body, and varies with its changing constitution. Hence the precepts of morality are with Empedocles largely dietetic.
As humans, animals, and plants are made up of the same elements in different amounts, they all share a common nature. They all have perception and understanding; however, in humans, especially in the blood at the heart, the mind has its unique place. Yet, the mind always relies on the body and changes with its shifting state. Therefore, the teachings of morality in Empedocles are mostly about diet.
Knowledge is explained by the principle that the several elements in the things outside us are perceived by the corresponding elements in ourselves. We know only in so far as we have within us a nature cognate to the object of knowledge. Like is known by like. The whole body is full of pores, and hence respiration takes place over the whole frame. But in the organs of sense these pores are specially adapted to receive the effluxes which are continually rising from bodies around us; and in this way perception is somewhat obscurely explained. The theory, however unsatisfactory as an explanation, has one great merit, that it recognizes between the eye, for instance, and the object seen an intermediate something. Certain particles go forth from the eye to meet similar particles given forth from the object, and the resultant contact constitutes vision. This idea contains within it the germ of the modern idea of the subjectivity of sense-given data; perception is not merely a passive reflection of external objects.
Knowledge is based on the idea that the various elements in the things around us are recognized by the corresponding elements within ourselves. We understand things only to the extent that we have a nature similar to the knowledge we seek. Similar things are recognized by similar things. The entire body is filled with pores, which is how breathing occurs throughout the whole body. However, in our sensory organs, these pores are specifically designed to capture the emissions that constantly arise from the objects around us; this somewhat obscures the explanation of perception. Although this theory may not fully satisfy as an explanation, it has one significant advantage: it acknowledges that there is something intermediate between the eye, for example, and the object being seen. Certain particles emanate from the eye to interact with similar particles emitted by the object, and this interaction creates vision. This notion contains the seed of the modern understanding of the subjectivity of sensory information; perception is not just a passive reflection of outside objects.
It is not easy to harmonize these quasi-scientific theories with the theory of transmigration of souls which Empedocles seems to expound. Probably the doctrine that the divinity (δαίμων) passes from element to element, nowhere finding a home, is a mystical way of teaching the continued identity of the principles which are at the bottom of every phase of development from inorganic nature to man. At the top of the scale are the prophet and the physician, those who have best learned the secret of life; they are next to the divine. One law, an identity of elements, pervades all nature; existence is one from end to end; the plant and the animal are links in a chain where man is a link too; and even the distinction between male and female is transcended. The beasts are kindred with man; he who eats their flesh is not much better than a cannibal.
It’s not easy to align these somewhat scientific theories with the idea of the transmigration of souls that Empedocles seems to discuss. Likely, the belief that the divine being (spirit) moves from one element to another, never finding a true home, is a mystical way of illustrating the ongoing identity of the principles underlying every stage of development from non-living nature to humans. At the top of the hierarchy are the prophet and the physician, those who have best understood the secret of life; they are closest to the divine. One law, an identity of elements, runs through all of nature; existence is unified from beginning to end; the plant and the animal are links in a chain where humans are included too; and even the distinction between male and female is overcome. Animals are related to humans; someone who eats their flesh isn’t much better than a cannibal.
Looking at the opposition between these and the ordinary opinions, we are not surprised that Empedocles notes the limitation and narrowness of human perceptions. We see, he says, but a part, and fancy that we have grasped the whole. But the senses cannot lead to truth; thought and reflection must look at the thing on every side. It is the business of a philosopher, while he lays bare the fundamental difference of elements, to display the identity that subsists between what seem unconnected parts of the universe.
Looking at the contrast between these views and common beliefs, it’s not surprising that Empedocles points out the limitations and narrowness of human perception. He says we only see part of the picture and mistakenly believe we understand the whole. However, our senses can’t lead us to the truth; it takes thought and reflection to examine things from all angles. A philosopher’s job is to reveal the fundamental differences among elements while also showing the connections that exist between parts of the universe that appear unrelated.
See Diog. Laërt. viii. 51-77; Sext. Empiric. Adv. math. vii. 123; Simplicius, Phys. f. 24, f. 76. For text Simon Karsten, “Empedoclis Agrigenti carminum reliquiae,” in Reliq. phil. vet. (Amsterdam, 1838); F.W.A. Mullach, Fragmenta philosophorum Graecorum, vol. i.; H. Stein, Empedoclis Agrigenti fragmenta (Bonn, 1882); H. Ritter and L. Preller, Historia philosophiae (4th ed., Gotha, 1869), chap. iii. ad fin.; A. Fairbanks, The First Philosophers of Greece (1898). Verse translation, W.E. Leonard (1908). For criticism E. Zeller, Phil. der Griechen (Eng. trans. S.F. Alleyne, 2 vols., London, 1881); A.W. Benn, Greek Philosophers (1882); J.A. Symonds, Studies of the Greek Poets (3rd ed., 1893), vol. i. chap. 7; C.B. Renouvier, Manuel de philosophie ancienne (Paris, 1844); T. Gomperz, Greek Thinkers, vol. i. (Eng. trans. L. Magnus, 1901); W. Windelband, Hist. of Phil. (Eng. trans. 1895); many articles in periodicals (see Baldwin’s Dict. of Philos. vol. iii. p. 190).
See Diog. Laërt. viii. 51-77; Sext. Empiric. Adv. math. vii. 123; Simplicius, Phys. f. 24, f. 76. For text Simon Karsten, “Empedoclis Agrigenti carminum reliquiae,” in Reliq. phil. vet. (Amsterdam, 1838); F.W.A. Mullach, Fragmenta philosophorum Graecorum, vol. i.; H. Stein, Empedoclis Agrigenti fragmenta (Bonn, 1882); H. Ritter and L. Preller, Historia philosophiae (4th ed., Gotha, 1869), chap. iii. ad fin.; A. Fairbanks, The First Philosophers of Greece (1898). Verse translation, W.E. Leonard (1908). For criticism E. Zeller, Phil. der Griechen (Eng. trans. S.F. Alleyne, 2 vols., London, 1881); A.W. Benn, Greek Philosophers (1882); J.A. Symonds, Studies of the Greek Poets (3rd ed., 1893), vol. i. chap. 7; C.B. Renouvier, Manuel de philosophie ancienne (Paris, 1844); T. Gomperz, Greek Thinkers, vol. i. (Eng. trans. L. Magnus, 1901); W. Windelband, Hist. of Phil. (Eng. trans. 1895); many articles in periodicals (see Baldwin’s Dict. of Philos. vol. iii. p. 190).
EMPEROR (Fr. empereur, from the Lat. imperator), a title formerly borne by the sovereigns of the Roman empire (see Empire), and since their time, partly by derivation, partly by imitation, used by a variety of other sovereigns. Under the Republic, the term imperator applied in theory to any magistrate 346 vested with imperium; but in practice it was only used of a magistrate who was acting abroad (militiae) and was thus in command of troops. The term imperator was the natural and regular designation employed by his troops in addressing such a magistrate; but it was more particularly and specially employed by them to salute him after a victory; and when he had been thus saluted he could use the title of imperator in public till the day of his triumph at Rome, after which it would lapse along with his imperium. The senate itself might, in the later Republic, invite a victorious general to assume the title; and in these two customs—the salutation of the troops, and the invitation of the senate—we see in the germ the two methods by which under the Empire the princeps was designated; while in the military connotation attaching to the name even under the Republic we can detect in advance the military character by which the emperor and the Empire were afterwards distinguished. Julius Caesar was the first who used the title continuously (from 58 B.C. to his death in 44 B.C.), as well domi as militiae; and his nephew Augustus took a further step when he made the term imperator a praenomen, a practice which after the time of Nero becomes regular. But apart from this amalgamation of the term with his regular name, and the private right to its use which that bestowed, every emperor had an additional and double right to the title on public grounds, possessed as he was of an imperium infinitum majus, and commanding as he did all the troops of the Empire. From the latter point of view—as generalissimo of the forces of Rome, he had the right to the insignia of the commander (the laurel wreath and the fasces), and to the protection of a bodyguard, the praetoriani. This public title of imperator was normally conferred by the senate; and an emperor normally dates his reign from the day of his salutation by the senate. But the troops were also regarded as still retaining the right of saluting an imperator; and there were emperors who regarded themselves as created by such salutation and dated their reigns accordingly. The military associations of the term thus resulted, only too often, in making the emperor the nominee of a turbulent soldiery.
EMPEROR (Fr. empereur, from the Lat. imperator), a title once held by the rulers of the Roman Empire (see Empire), and since then, partly through derivation and partly through imitation, adopted by various other rulers. During the Republic, the term imperator theoretically applied to any magistrate with imperium; however, in practice, it was only used for a magistrate commanding troops abroad (militiae). The term imperator was the usual and standard title used by his troops to address such a magistrate, especially used to salute him after a victory; once saluted, he could use the title publicly until the day of his triumph in Rome, after which it would cease along with his imperium. The senate itself, in the later Republic, could invite a victorious general to take on the title; and in these two customs—the salute from the troops and the senate's invitation—we see the early forms of how the princeps was designated during the Empire. The military connotation linked to the name, even in the Republic, hints at the military nature that would later define the emperor and the Empire. Julius Caesar was the first to use the title continuously (from 58 BCE to his death in 44 B.C.), in both domestic and military contexts; and his nephew Augustus took it a step further by making the term imperator a praenomen, becoming a standard practice after Nero's time. However, apart from this merging of the term with his regular name, which granted him private usage rights, every emperor had an additional and separate claim to the title based on public grounds, as he possessed an imperium infinitum majus and commanded all the Empire's troops. From this perspective—as generalissimo of Rome’s forces—he had the right to the insignia of a commander (the laurel wreath and the fasces) and to the protection of a bodyguard known as the praetoriani. This public title of imperator was usually granted by the senate, and emperors typically began their reign from the day they were saluted by the senate. However, the troops were also seen as having the right to salute an imperator; some emperors believed they were appointed by such salutation and dated their reigns accordingly. This connection with the military often led to the emperor being seen as the choice of a turbulent army.
Augustus had been designated (not indeed officially, but none the less regularly) as princeps—the first citizen or foremost man of the state. The designation suited the early years of the Empire, in which a dyarchy of princeps and senate had been maintained. But by the 2nd century the dyarchy is passing into a monarchy: the title of princeps recedes, and the title of imperator comes into prominence to designate not merely the possessor of a certain imperium, or the general of troops, but the simple monarch in the fulness of his power as head of the state. From the days of Diocletian one finds occasionally two emperors, but not, at any rate in theory, two Empires; the two emperors are the dual sovereigns of a single realm. But from the time of Arcadius and Honorius (A.D. 395) there are in reality (though not in theory) two Empires as well as two emperors, one of the East and one of the West. When Greek became the sole language of the East Roman Empire, imperator was rendered sometimes by βασιλεύς and sometimes by αὐτοκράτωρ, the former word being the usual designation of a sovereign, the latter specially denoting that despotic power which the imperator held, and being in fact the official translation of imperator. Justinian uses αὐτοκράτωρ as his formal title, and βασιλεύς as the popular term.
Augustus had been named (not officially, but still regularly) as princeps—the first citizen or leading man of the state. This title was fitting for the early years of the Empire, when a partnership between the princeps and the senate existed. However, by the 2nd century, this partnership was evolving into a monarchy: the title of princeps faded, and the term imperator became more prominent, referring not just to someone with a particular imperium, or a military leader, but to the absolute monarch fully in charge of the state. From Diocletian's time, there were occasionally two emperors, but, at least theoretically, only one Empire; these two emperors were the dual rulers of a single domain. However, from the era of Arcadius and Honorius (CE 395), there truly were (though not in theory) two Empires as well as two emperors, one in the East and one in the West. When Greek became the only language of the Eastern Roman Empire, imperator was sometimes translated as king and other times as emperor, with the former being the common term for a sovereign and the latter specifically indicating the despotic power held by the imperator, and actually serving as the official translation of imperator. Justinian used emperor as his formal title and king as the popular name.
On the revival of the Roman empire in the West by Charlemagne in 800, the title (at first in the form imperator, or imperator Augustus, afterwards Romanorum imperator Augustus) was taken by him and by his Frankish, Italian and German successors, heads of the Holy Roman Empire, down to the abdication of the emperor Francis II. in 1806. The doctrine had, however, grown up in the earlier middle ages (about the time of the emperor Henry II., 1002-1024) that although the emperor was chosen in Germany (at first by the nation, afterwards by a small body of electors), and entitled from the moment of his election to be crowned in Rome by the pope, he could not use the title of emperor until that coronation had actually taken place. The German sovereign, therefore, though he exercised, as soon as chosen, full imperial powers both in Germany and Italy, called himself merely “king of the Romans” (Romanorum rex semper Augustus) until he had received the sacred crown in the sacred city. In 1508 Maximilian I., being refused a passage to Rome by the Venetians, obtained from Pope Julius II. a bull permitting him to style himself emperor elect (imperator electus, erwählter Kaiser). This title was taken by Ferdinand I. (1558) and all succeeding emperors, immediately upon their coronation in Germany; and it was until 1806 their strict legal designation, and was always employed by them in proclamations and other official documents. The term “elect” was, however, omitted even in formal documents when the sovereign was addressed or was spoken of in the third person.
On the revival of the Roman Empire in the West by Charlemagne in 800, he adopted the title (initially as imperator, or imperator Augustus, later Romanorum imperator Augustus), which was used by him and his Frankish, Italian, and German successors, the leaders of the Holy Roman Empire, until Emperor Francis II abdicated in 1806. However, during the early Middle Ages (around the time of Emperor Henry II, 1002-1024), a concept had developed that although the emperor was chosen in Germany (first by the nation, later by a small group of electors) and was entitled to be crowned in Rome by the pope right after his election, he couldn’t officially use the title of emperor until that coronation actually happened. Therefore, although the German sovereign held full imperial powers in both Germany and Italy immediately upon being chosen, he referred to himself only as “king of the Romans” (Romanorum rex semper Augustus) until he received the sacred crown in the holy city. In 1508, Maximilian I was denied passage to Rome by the Venetians, so he obtained a bull from Pope Julius II allowing him to call himself emperor-elect (imperator electus, erwählter Kaiser). This title was adopted by Ferdinand I (1558) and all subsequent emperors immediately upon their coronation in Germany, and it remained their official legal designation until 1806, consistently used in proclamations and other official documents. However, the term “elect” was often omitted in formal documents when addressing the sovereign or when referring to them in the third person.
In medieval times the emperor, conceived as vicegerent of God and co-regent with the pope in government of the Christian people committed to his charge, might almost be regarded as an ecclesiastical officer. Not only was his function regarded as consisting in the defence and extension of true religion; he was himself arrayed in ecclesiastical vestments at his coronation; he was ordained a subdeacon; and assisting the pope in the celebration of the Eucharist, he communicated in both kinds as a clerk. The same sort of ecclesiastical character came also to be attached to the tsars1 of Russia, who—especially in their relations with the Orthodox Eastern Church—may vindicate for themselves (though the sultans of Turkey have disputed the claim) the succession to the East Roman emperors (see Empire). But the title of emperor was also used in the middle ages, and is still used, in a loose and vague sense, without any ecclesiastical connotation or hint of connexion with Rome (the two attributes which should properly distinguish an emperor), and merely in order to designate a non-European ruler with a large extent of territory. It was thus applied, and is still applied, to the rulers of China and Japan; it was attributed to the Mogul sovereigns of India; and since 1876 it has been used by British monarchs in their capacity of sovereigns of India (Kaiser-i-Hind).2
In medieval times, the emperor was seen as a representative of God and a co-ruler with the pope governing the Christian people under his care, almost like an ecclesiastical official. His role was not only considered to involve defending and promoting true religion; he was also dressed in religious garments during his coronation, ordained as a subdeacon, and assisted the pope during the celebration of the Eucharist, receiving communion in both forms like a clergyman. A similar ecclesiastical role was taken on by the tsars of Russia, especially in their dealings with the Orthodox Eastern Church, who—although disputed by the sultans of Turkey—may claim succession to the East Roman emperors (see Empire). However, the title of emperor was also used in the Middle Ages and is still used today in a broader, more vague sense, without any religious implication or connection to Rome (the two characteristics that should properly define an emperor), simply to refer to a non-European ruler with a vast territory. This title was applied, and continues to be applied, to the leaders of China and Japan; it was also given to the Mogul rulers of India; and since 1876, it has been used by British monarchs in their role as rulers of India (Kaiser-i-Hind).
Since the French Revolution and during the course of the 19th century the term emperor has had an eventful history. In 1804 Napoleon took the title of “Emperor of the French,” and posed as the reviver of the Empire of Charlemagne. Afraid that Napoleon would next proceed to deprive him of his title of Holy Roman Emperor, Francis II. first took the step, in 1804, of investing himself with a new title, that of “Hereditary Emperor of Austria,” and then, in 1806, proceeded to the further step of abdicating his old historical title and dissolving the Holy Roman Empire. Thus the old and true sense of the term emperor—the sense in which it was connected with the church in the present and with Rome in the past—finally perished; and the term became partly an apanage of Bonapartism (Louis Napoleon resuscitated it as Napoleon III. in 1853), and partly a personal title of the Habsburgs as rulers of their various family territories. In 1870, however, a new and most important use of the title was begun, when the union of Germany was achieved, and the Prussian king, who became the head of united Germany, received in that capacity the title of German Emperor. Here the title of emperor designates the president of a federal state; and here the Holy Roman emperor of the 17th and 18th centuries, the president of a loose confederation of German states, may be said to have found his successor. But the term has been widely and 347 loosely used in the course of the 19th century. It was the style from 1821 to 1889 of the princes of the house of Braganza who ruled in Brazil; it has been assumed by usurpers in Haiti, and in Mexico it was borne by Augustin Iturbide in 1822 and 1823, and by the ill-fated Archduke Maximilian of Austria from 1864 to 1867. It can hardly, therefore, be said to have any definite descriptive force at the present time, such as it had in the middle ages. So far as it has any such force in Europe, it may be said partly to be connected with Bonapartism, and to denote a popular but military dictatorship, partly to be connected with the federal idea, and to denote a precedence over other kings possessed by a ruler standing at the head of a composite state which may embrace kings among its members. It is in this latter sense that it is used of Germany, and of Britain in respect of India; it is in something approaching this latter sense that it may be said to be used of Austria.
Since the French Revolution and throughout the 19th century, the term "emperor" has had a tumultuous history. In 1804, Napoleon adopted the title of “Emperor of the French” and presented himself as the restorer of Charlemagne's Empire. Fearing that Napoleon would try to take away his title as Holy Roman Emperor, Francis II first took action in 1804 by declaring himself “Hereditary Emperor of Austria,” and then in 1806, he went a step further by abdicating his historical title and dissolving the Holy Roman Empire. As a result, the old, true meaning of "emperor"—which was tied to the church in the present and to Rome in the past—finally faded away; the term became partly associated with Bonapartism (Louis Napoleon revived it as Napoleon III in 1853), and partly a personal title for the Habsburgs as rulers of their various family lands. However, in 1870, a significant new use of the title emerged when the unification of Germany occurred, and the Prussian king, who became the leader of united Germany, was given the title of German Emperor. Here, the title signifies the head of a federal state; one could say that the Holy Roman emperors of the 17th and 18th centuries, who presided over a loose confederation of German states, found their successor in this title. Nevertheless, the term has been widely and loosely applied throughout the 19th century. It was used by the Braganza princes ruling in Brazil from 1821 to 1889; it has been claimed by usurpers in Haiti, and in Mexico, it was adopted by Augustin Iturbide in 1822 and 1823, and by the ill-fated Archduke Maximilian of Austria from 1864 to 1867. Therefore, it can hardly be said to have a specific descriptive meaning today, as it did in the Middle Ages. To the extent that it has any such meaning in Europe, it may be linked partly to Bonapartism, suggesting a popular but military dictatorship, and partly to the federal idea, indicating a precedence over other kings held by a ruler at the head of a composite state that might include kings among its members. It is in this latter sense that the term is applied to Germany, and to Britain in relation to India; it is used in something like this latter sense regarding Austria.
See J. Selden, Titles of Honour (1672); J. Bryce, Holy Roman Empire (London, 1904); and Sir E. Colebrooke, “On Imperial and Other Titles” in the Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society (1877). See also the articles on “Imperator” and “Princeps” in Smith’s Dictionary of Greek and Roman Antiquities (1890).
See J. Selden, Titles of Honour (1672); J. Bryce, Holy Roman Empire (London, 1904); and Sir E. Colebrooke, “On Imperial and Other Titles” in the Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society (1877). See also the articles on “Imperator” and “Princeps” in Smith’s Dictionary of Greek and Roman Antiquities (1890).
1 The word Tsar, like the German Kaiser, is derived from Caesar (see Tsar). Peter the Great introduced the use of the style “Imperator,” and the official designation is now “Emperor of all the Russias, Tsar of Poland, and Grand Duke of Finland,” though the term tsar is still popularly used in Russia.
2 For the titles of βασιλεύς, imperator Augustus, &c., applied in the 10th century to the Anglo-Saxon kings, see Empire (note). The claim to the style of emperor, as a badge of equal rank, played a considerable part in the diplomatic relations between the Sultan and certain European sovereigns. Thus, at a time when this style (Padishah) was refused by the Sultan to the tsars of Russia, and even to the Holy Roman Emperor himself, it was allowed to the French kings, who in diplomatic correspondence and treaties with Turkey called themselves “emperor of France” (empereur de France).—[Ed.].
2 For the titles of king, imperator Augustus, etc., used in the 10th century for the Anglo-Saxon kings, see Empire (note). The claim to the title of emperor, as a sign of equal status, played a significant role in the diplomatic relations between the Sultan and some European monarchs. At one point, when the Sultan denied this title (Padishah) to the tsars of Russia and even to the Holy Roman Emperor, it was granted to the French kings, who referred to themselves as “emperor of France” (empereur de France) in diplomatic correspondence and treaties with Turkey.—[N/A].
EMPHYSEMA (Gr. ἐμφυσᾶν to inflate) is a word vaguely meaning the abnormal presence of air in certain parts of the body. At the present day, however, there are two conditions to which it refers, “pulmonary emphysema” (and the word pulmonary is often omitted) and “surgical emphysema.” Of pulmonary emphysema there are two forms, true vesicular and interstitial (or interlobular). Vesicular emphysema signifies that there is an enlargement of air-vesicles, resulting either from their excessive distension, from destruction of the septa, or from both causes combined (see Respiratory System). In interstitial emphysema the air is infiltrated into the connective tissue beneath the pleura and between the pulmonary air-cells.
EMPHYSEMA (Gr. ἐμφυσᾶν to inflate) is a term that loosely refers to the abnormal presence of air in certain areas of the body. Today, it generally refers to two conditions: “pulmonary emphysema” (and the word pulmonary is often left out) and “surgical emphysema.” Pulmonary emphysema has two forms: true vesicular and interstitial (or interlobular). Vesicular emphysema indicates that there is an enlargement of air sacs, which can happen due to excessive stretching, destruction of the septa, or a combination of both causes (see Respiratory System). In interstitial emphysema, air gets into the connective tissue below the pleura and between the pulmonary air cells.
The former variety is by far the more common, and appears to be capable of being produced by various causes, the chief of which are the following:—
The first type is definitely the more common one and seems to be able to be produced by several factors, the main ones being the following:—
1. Where a portion of the lung has become wasted, or its vesicular structure permanently obliterated by disease, without corresponding falling in of the chest wall, the neighbouring air-vesicles or some of them undergo dilatation to fill the vacuum (vicarious emphysema).
1. When a part of the lung has deteriorated or its air sacs have been permanently destroyed by disease, without any corresponding collapse of the chest wall, the nearby air sacs may enlarge to fill the empty space (vicarious emphysema).
2. In some cases of bronchitis, where numbers of the smaller bronchial tubes become obstructed, the air in the pulmonary vesicles remains imprisoned, the force of expiration being insufficient to expel it; while, on the other hand, the stronger force of inspiration being adequate to overcome the resistance, the air-cells tend to become more and more distended, and permanent alterations in their structure, including emphysema, are the result (inspiratory theory).
2. In some cases of bronchitis, where many of the smaller bronchial tubes get blocked, the air in the lung sacs stays trapped because the force of exhaling isn't strong enough to push it out. Meanwhile, the stronger force of inhaling can overcome the blockage, causing the air sacs to get increasingly stretched, which leads to lasting changes in their structure, including emphysema (inspiratory theory).
3. Emphysema also arises from exertion involving violent expiratory efforts, during which the glottis is constricted, as in paroxysms of coughing, in straining, and in lifting heavy weights (expiratory theory). Whooping-cough is well known as the exciting cause of emphysema in many persons.
3. Emphysema can also develop from intense physical effort that involves forceful breathing out, where the throat is constricted, such as during severe coughing episodes, straining, or lifting heavy weights (expiratory theory). Whooping cough is widely recognized as a triggering factor for emphysema in many individuals.
4. Another view, known as the nutritive theory, maintains that emphysema depends essentially on a primary nutritive change in the walls of the air-vesicles. Thus these are impaired in their resisting power, and are far more likely to become distended by any force acting on them from within.
4. Another view, called the nutritive theory, suggests that emphysema primarily stems from a change in the nutrition of the air sacs' walls. As a result, these walls lose their strength and are much more prone to becoming expanded by any internal pressure applied to them.
5. Again in certain cases the cartilages of the chest become hypertrophied and rigid, thus causing a primary chronic enlargement, and the lungs become emphysematous in order to fill up the increased space (Freund’s theory).
5. In some cases, the cartilage in the chest becomes thick and stiff, leading to a chronic enlargement, and the lungs become emphysematous to occupy the extra space (Freund’s theory).
In whatever manner produced, this disease gives rise to important morbid changes in the affected portions of the lungs, especially the loss of the natural elasticity of the air-cells, and likewise the destruction of many of the pulmonary capillary blood-vessels, and the diminution of aerating surface for the blood. As a consequence an increased strain is thrown on the right ventricle with a consequent dilatation leading on to heart failure and all its attendant troubles. The chief symptom in this complaint is shortness of breath, more or less constant but greatly aggravated by exertion, and by attacks of bronchitis, to which persons suffering from emphysema appear to be specially liable. The respiration is of similar character to that already described in the case of asthma. In severe forms of the disease the patient comes to acquire a peculiar puffy or bloated appearance, and the configuration of the chest is altered, assuming the character known as the barrel-shaped or emphysematous chest.
In any case, this disease causes significant changes in the affected parts of the lungs, particularly the loss of the natural elasticity of the air sacs, and also the destruction of many tiny blood vessels in the lungs, reducing the surface area available for oxygen exchange. As a result, there’s more strain on the right ventricle of the heart, which leads to its enlargement and ultimately heart failure along with related complications. The main symptom of this condition is shortness of breath, which is mostly constant but worsens with physical activity and during bronchitis attacks, to which people with emphysema seem particularly prone. The breathing pattern is similar to what is seen in asthma cases. In severe forms of the disease, the patient may develop a distinctive puffy or swollen look, and the shape of the chest changes to what's known as a barrel-shaped or emphysematous chest.
The main element in the treatment of emphysema consists in attention to the general condition of the health, and in the avoidance of all causes likely to aggravate the disease or induce its complications. Compressed air baths and expiration into rarefied air may be useful. During attacks of urgent dyspnoea and lividity, with engorgement of veins, the patient should be repeatedly bled until relief is obtained. Interstitial emphysema arising from the rupture of air-cells in the immediate neighbourhood of the pleura may occur as a complication of the vesicular form, or separately as the result of some sudden expulsive effort, such as a fit of coughing, or, as has frequently happened, in parturition. Gangrene or post-mortem decomposition may lead to the presence of air in the interstitial tissue of the lung. Occasionally the air infiltrates the cellular tissue of the posterior mediastinum, and thence comes to distend the integument of the whole surface of the body (surgical emphysema). Surgical emphysema signifies the effusion of air into the general connective tissues of the body. The commonest causes are a wound of some air-passage, or a penetrating wound of the chest wall without injury to the lung. It may, however, occur in any situation of the body and in many other ways. Its severity varies from very slight cases where only a little crepitation may be felt under the skin, to extreme cases where the whole body is blown up and death is imminent from impeded respiration and failure of the action of the heart. In the milder cases no treatment is necessary as the air gradually becomes absorbed, but in the more severe cases incisions must be made in the swollen cellular tissues to allow the air to escape.
The main part of treating emphysema focuses on managing the overall health condition and avoiding anything that might worsen the disease or cause complications. Compressed air baths and breathing in rarefied air could be beneficial. During episodes of severe shortness of breath and cyanosis, with swollen veins, the patient should be bled repeatedly until relief is achieved. Interstitial emphysema, which happens when air cells near the pleura rupture, can occur as a complication of the vesicular type or on its own due to sudden expulsive actions like coughing or, as often happens, during childbirth. Gangrene or post-mortem decomposition can result in air getting into the lung's interstitial tissue. Sometimes, air can infiltrate the connective tissue of the back mediastinum, which can then inflate the skin across the entire body (surgical emphysema). Surgical emphysema refers to air leaking into the body's connective tissues. The most common causes are wounds to an air passage or penetrating injuries to the chest wall that don't involve the lung. However, it can happen in any part of the body and in many different ways. Its severity ranges from very mild cases where only slight crackling is felt under the skin to extreme cases where the entire body is swollen and death is near due to restricted breathing and heart function failure. In milder cases, no treatment is needed as the air is gradually absorbed, but in more severe cases, incisions should be made in the swollen tissue to allow the air to escape.
EMPIRE, a term now used to denote a state of large size and also (as a rule) of composite character, often, but not necessarily, ruled by an emperor—a state which may be a federation, like the German empire, or a unitary state, like the Russian, or even, like the British empire, a loose commonwealth of free states united to a number of subordinate dependencies. For many centuries the writers of the Church, basing themselves on the Apocalyptic writings, conceived of a cycle of four empires, generally explained—though there was no absolute unanimity with regard to the members of the cycle—as the Assyrian, the Persian, the Macedonian and the Roman. But in reality the conception of Empire, like the term itself (Lat. imperium), is of Roman origin. The empire of Alexander had indeed in some ways anticipated the empire of Rome. “In his later years,” Professor Bury writes, “Alexander formed the notion of an empire, both European and Asiatic, in which the Asiatics should not be dominated by the European invaders, but Europeans and Asiatics alike should be ruled on an equality by a monarch, indifferent to the distinction of Greek and barbarian, and looked upon as their own king by Persians as well as by Macedonians.” The contemporary Cynic philosophy of cosmopolitanism harmonized with this notion, as Stoicism did later with the practice of the Roman empire; and Alexander, like Diocletian and Constantine, accustomed a Western people to the forms of an Oriental court, while, like the earlier Caesars, he claimed and received the recognition of his own divinity. But when he died in 323, his empire, which had barely lasted ten years, died with him; and it was divided among Diadochi who, if in some other respects (for instance, the Hellenization of the East) they were heirs of their master’s policy, were destitute of the imperial conception. The work of Alexander was rather that of the forerunner than the founder. He prepared the way for the world-empire of Rome; he made possible the rise of a universal religion. And these are the two factors which, throughout the middle ages, went together to make the thing which men called Empire.
EMPIRE, is a term used today to describe a large state that is typically made up of diverse components, often ruled by an emperor—this can be a federation, like the German Empire, a unitary state like Russia, or, like the British Empire, a loose association of independent states connected to various subordinate territories. For many centuries, Church writers, drawing from the Apocalyptic texts, imagined a cycle of four empires, usually identified as the Assyrian, Persian, Macedonian, and Roman, though there wasn't complete agreement on which empires belonged in this cycle. In reality, the idea of an Empire, like the term itself (Latin imperium), originates from Rome. Alexander's empire had indeed, in some ways, predicted the Roman Empire. “In his later years,” Professor Bury writes, “Alexander envisioned an empire, combining Europe and Asia, where Asiatics wouldn’t be ruled over by European invaders but where both Europeans and Asiatics would be equally ruled by a monarch who disregarded the differences between Greeks and non-Greeks, and who would be seen as their king by both Persians and Macedonians.” The modern Cynic philosophy of cosmopolitanism aligned with this idea, just as Stoicism later complemented the practices of the Roman Empire; and Alexander, much like Diocletian and Constantine, introduced a Western audience to the styles of an Eastern court while, like the earlier Caesars, he claimed and was acknowledged for his divine status. However, when he died in 323, his empire, which lasted barely a decade, ended with him; it was divided among his successors, the Diadochi, who, despite sharing some of their master’s policies (for example, the Hellenization of the East), lacked the imperial vision. Alexander's role was more that of a precursor rather than a founder. He paved the way for the Roman world-empire; he enabled the emergence of a universal religion. These two elements combined throughout the Middle Ages to create what people referred to as Empire.
At Rome the term imperium signified generally, in its earlier use, the sovereignty of the state over the individual, a sovereignty which the Romans had disengaged with singular clearness from all other kinds of authority. Each of The Roman empire. the higher magistrates of the Roman people was vested, by a lex curiata (for power was distinctly conceived as resident in, and delegated by, the community), with an imperium both civil and military, which varied in degree with the magnitude of his office. In the later days of the Republic such imperium was enjoyed, partly in Rome by the resident consuls and praetors, partly in the provinces by the various proconsuls or propraetors. There was thus a certain morcellement of imperium, delegated as it was by the people to a number of magistrates: the coming of the Empire meant the reintegration of this imperium, and its unification, by a gradual process, in the hands of the princeps, or emperor. The means by which this process was achieved had already been anticipated under the Republic. Already in the days of Pompey it had been found convenient to grant to an extraordinary officer an imperium aequum or majus over a large area, and that officer thus received powers, within that area, equal to, or greater than, the powers of the provincial governors. This precedent was followed by Augustus in the year 27 B.C., when he acquired for himself sole imperium in a certain number of provinces (the imperial provinces), and an infinitum imperium majus in the remaining provinces (which were termed senatorial). As a result, Augustus enjoyed an imperium coextensive indeed with the whole of the Roman world, but concurrent, in part of that world, with the imperium of the senatorial proconsuls; and the early Empire may thus be described as a dyarchy. But the distinction between imperial and senatorial provinces finally disappeared; by the time of Constantine the emperor enjoyed sole imperium, and an absolute monarchy had been established. We shall not, however, fully understand the significance of the Roman empire, unless we realize the importance of its military aspect. All the soldiers of Rome had from the first to swear in verba Caesaris Augusti; and thus the whole of the Roman army was his army, regiments of which he might indeed lend, but of which he was sole Imperator (see under Emperor). Thus regarded as a permanent commander-in-chief, the emperor enjoyed the privileges, and suffered from the weaknesses, of his position. He had the power of the sword behind him; but he became more and more liable to be deposed, and to be replaced by a new commander, at the will of those who bore the sword in his service.
At Rome, the term imperium originally referred to the state's authority over individuals, a clear distinction the Romans made from other forms of power. Each of the higher officials of the Roman people was granted, through a lex curiata (since power was viewed as held by the community and given to individuals), an imperium that was both civil and military, varying based on the level of their office. In the later years of the Republic, this imperium was held partly in Rome by the resident consuls and praetors, and partly in the provinces by various proconsuls or propraetors. This led to a fragmentation of imperium, as it was delegated by the people to multiple officials: the rise of the Empire signified the reintegration and unification of this imperium into the hands of the princeps, or emperor, through a gradual process. This method had already begun during the Republic. In the days of Pompey, it had become practical to give an extraordinary officer an imperium aequum or majus over a large area, granting them powers within that area equal to or greater than the provincial governors. Augustus followed this precedent in 27 BCE, acquiring sole imperium in several provinces (the imperial provinces) and an infinitum imperium majus in the remaining provinces (the senatorial ones). Thus, Augustus had an imperium that covered the entire Roman world, but in parts of it, it coexisted with the imperium of the senatorial proconsuls; this structure can be described as a dyarchy. However, the distinction between imperial and senatorial provinces eventually faded; by the time of Constantine, the emperor held sole imperium, establishing an absolute monarchy. To truly grasp the significance of the Roman Empire, we need to recognize the importance of its military aspect. From the beginning, all Roman soldiers had to swear in verba Caesaris Augusti; therefore, the entire Roman army was his army, which he could lend out, but he was the sole Imperator (see under Emperor). As a permanent commander-in-chief, the emperor enjoyed specific advantages but also faced vulnerabilities. He had military power backing him, yet he became increasingly susceptible to being overthrown and replaced by a new leader at the discretion of those wielding the sword in his service.
The period which is marked by the reigns of Diocletian and Constantine (A.D. 284-337) marks a great transformation in the character of the Empire. The old dyarchy, under which the emperor might still be regarded as an official Development under Diocletian and Constantine. of the respublica Romana, passed into a new monarchy, in which all political power became, as it were, the private property of the monarch. There was now no distinction of provinces; and the old public aerarium became merely a municipal treasury, while the fiscus of the emperor became the exchequer of the Empire. The officers of the imperial praetorium, or bodyguard, are now the great officers of state; his private council becomes the public consistory, or supreme court of appeal; and the comites of his court are the administrators of his empire. “All is in him, and all comes from him,” as our own year-books say of the medieval king; his household, for instance, is not only a household, but also an administration. On the other hand, this unification seems to be accompanied by a new bifurcation. The exigencies of frontier defence had long been drawing the Empire towards the troubled East; and this tendency reached its culmination when a new Rome arose by the Bosporus, and Constantinople became the centre of what Division of the Empire. seemed a second Empire in the East (A.D. 324). Particularly after the division of the Empire between Arcadius and Honorius in 395 does this bifurcation appear to be marked; and one naturally speaks of the two Empires of the West and the East. Yet it cannot be too much emphasized that in reality such language is utterly inexact. The Roman empire was, and always continued to be, ideally one and indivisible. There were two emperors, but one Empire—two persons, but one power. The point is of great importance for the understanding of the whole of the middle ages: there only is, and can be, one Empire, which may indeed, for convenience, be ruled conjointly by two emperors, resident, again for convenience, in two separate capitals. And, as a matter of fact, not only did the residence of an emperor in the East not spell bifurcation, it actually fostered the tendency towards unification. It helped forward the transformation of the Empire into an absolute and quasi-Asiatic monarchy, under which all its subjects fell into a single level of loyal submission: it helped to give the emperor a gorgeous court, marked by all the ceremony and the servility of the East.1 The deification of the emperor himself dates from the days of Augustus; by the time of Constantine it has infected the court and the government. Each emperor, again, had from the first enjoyed the sacrosanct position which was attached to the tribunate; but now his palace, his chamber, his charities, his letters, are all “sacred,” and one might almost speak in advance of a “Holy Roman Empire.”
The time dominated by the reigns of Diocletian and Constantine (A.D. 284-337) marks a significant transformation in the character of the Empire. The old system, where the emperor was seen as an official of the Roman Republic, shifted to a new monarchy, where all political power essentially became the personal property of the monarch. There were no longer any distinctions between provinces; the old public treasury became just a municipal treasury, while the emperor's private finances turned into the Empire's treasury. The officials of the imperial bodyguard are now the main government officials; his private council has become the public consistory, or the supreme court of appeal; and the members of his court are the administrators of his empire. “All is in him, and all comes from him,” just like our own historical records describe the medieval king; his household is not just a household, but also an administration. However, this unification seems to be accompanied by a new division. The needs for defense along the frontier had long been pulling the Empire toward the troubled East; this trend reached its peak when a new Rome emerged by the Bosporus, and Constantinople became the center of what appeared to be a second Empire in the East (A.D. 324). Especially after the division of the Empire between Arcadius and Honorius in 395, this division becomes more evident; naturally, people refer to the two Empires of the West and the East. Yet, it cannot be stressed enough that this kind of language is completely inaccurate. The Roman Empire was, and always remained, ideally one and indivisible. There were two emperors but one Empire—two individuals, but one power. This point is crucial for understanding the entirety of the Middle Ages: there is, and can only be, one Empire, which may, for convenience, be jointly ruled by two emperors, residing, again for convenience, in two separate capitals. In fact, the presence of an emperor in the East did not indicate division; it actually promoted the trend towards unification. It advanced the transformation of the Empire into an absolute and quasi-Asiatic monarchy, under which all subjects fell into a single level of loyal submission. It contributed to the creation of a magnificent court for the emperor, characterized by all the formality and servility of the East. The worship of the emperor dates back to the days of Augustus; by the time of Constantine, it had spread throughout the court and government. Each emperor had always held the sacred status associated with the tribunate; but now his palace, his chambers, his charitable acts, and his letters are all deemed “sacred,” and one could almost anticipate a “Holy Roman Empire.”
But there is one factor, the greatest of all, which still remains to be added, before we have counted the sum of the forces that made the world think in terms of empire for centuries to come; and that is the reception of Christianity into Influence of Christianity. the Roman empire by Constantine. That reception added a new sanction to the existence of the Empire and the position of the emperor. The Empire, already one and indivisible in its aspect of a political society, was welded still more firmly together when it was informed and permeated by a common Christianity, and unified by the force of a spiritual bond. The Empire was now the Church; it was now indeed indestructible, for, if it perished as an empire, it would live as a church. But the Church made it certain that it would not perish, even as an empire, for many centuries to come. On the one hand the Church thought in terms of empire and taught the millions of its disciples (including the barbarians themselves) to think in the same terms. No other political conception—no conception of a πόλις or of a nation—was any longer possible. When the Church gained its hold of the Roman world, the Empire, as it has been well said, was already “not only a government, but a fashion of conceiving the world”: it had stood for three centuries, and no man could think of any other form of political association. Moreover, the gospel of St Paul—that there is one Church, whereof Christ is the Head, and we are all members—could not but reinforce for the Christian the conception of a necessary political unity of all the world under a single head. Una Chiesa in uno Stato—such, then, was the theory of the Church. But not only did the Church perpetuate the conception of empire by making it a part of its own theory of the world: it perpetuated that conception equally by materializing it in its own organization of itself. Growing up under the shadow of the Empire, the Church too became an empire, as the Empire had become a church. As it took over something of the old pagan ceremonial, so it took over much of the old secular organization. The pope borrowed his title of pontifex maximus from the emperor: what is far more, he made himself gradually, and in the course of centuries, the Caesar and Imperator of the Church. The offices and the dioceses of the Church are parallel to the offices and dioceses of the Diocletian empire: the whole spirit of orderly hierarchy and regular organization, which breathes in the Roman Church, is the heritage of ancient Rome. The Donation of Constantine is a forgery; but it expresses a great truth when it represents Constantine as giving to the pope the imperial palace and insignia, and to the clergy the ornaments of the imperial army (see Donation of Constantine).
But there is one key factor, the most significant of all, that still needs to be considered before we analyze the totality of the forces that led the world to think in terms of empire for many centuries; and that is Constantine's acceptance of Christianity into Impact of Christianity. the Roman Empire. This acceptance added a new legitimacy to the existence of the Empire and the role of the emperor. The Empire, already seen as a unified political entity, became even more cohesive when it was infused and united by a shared Christianity, creating a strong spiritual bond. The Empire had now become the Church; it was truly unbreakable, because if it fell as an empire, it would continue as a church. However, the Church ensured that it would not fall, even as an empire, for many centuries to come. On one hand, the Church operated within an imperial mindset and taught millions of its followers (including the barbarians) to think the same way. No other political concept—no idea of a city or nation—was viable anymore. When the Church took hold of the Roman world, the Empire was, as has been aptly noted, “not only a government but a way of viewing the world”: it had endured for three centuries, and no one could imagine any other form of political organization. Furthermore, St. Paul's message—that there is one Church, with Christ as the Head and all of us as members—reinforced the Christian belief in a necessary political unity of the entire world under a single authority. Una Chiesa in uno Stato—this was the Church's theory. But the Church not only perpetuated the idea of empire by incorporating it into its worldview: it also embodied that idea through its own organizational structure. Emerging under the influence of the Empire, the Church also became an empire, just as the Empire had transformed into a church. As it adopted aspects of the old pagan rituals, it also inherited much of the old secular organization. The pope took the title of pontifex maximus from the emperor, and more importantly, he gradually positioned himself, over the centuries, as the Caesar and Imperator of the Church. The offices and dioceses of the Church mirror those of the Diocletian empire: the entire essence of structured hierarchy and systematic organization, which is evident in the Roman Church, is a legacy of ancient Rome. The Donation of Constantine is a forgery; however, it conveys a significant truth by portraying Constantine as giving the pope the imperial palace and insignia, and bestowing upon the clergy the regalia of the imperial army (see Donation of Constantine).
Upon this world, informed by these ideas, there finally descended, in the 5th century, the avalanche of barbaric invasion. Its impact seemed to split the Empire into fragmentary kingdoms; yet it left the universal Church intact, Barbarian invasions. and with it the conception of empire. With that conception, indeed, the barbarians had already been for centuries familiar: service in Roman armies, and settlement in Roman territories, had made the Roman empire for them, as much as for the civilized provincial, part of the order of the world. One of the barbarian invaders, Odoacer (Odovakar), might seem, in 476, to have swept away the Empire from the West, when he commanded the abdication of Romulus Augustulus; and the date 476 has indeed been generally emphasized as marking “the fall of the Western empire.” Other invaders, again, men like the Frank Clovis or the great Ostrogoth Theodoric, might seem, in succeeding years, to have completed the work of Odoacer, and to have shattered the sorry scheme of the later Empire, by remoulding it into national kingdoms. De facto, there is some truth in such a view: de jure, there is none.2 All that Odoacer did was to abolish one of the two joint rulers of the indivisible Empire, and to make the remaining ruler at Constantinople sole emperor from the Bosporus to the pillars of Hercules. He abolished the dual sovereignty which had been inaugurated by Diocletian, and returned to the unity of the Empire in the days of Marcus Aurelius. He did not abolish the Roman empire in the West: he only abolished its separate ruler, and, leaving the Empire itself subsisting, under the sway (nominal, it is true, but none the less acknowledged) of the emperor resident at Constantinople, he claimed to act as his vicar, under the name of patrician, in the administration of the Italian provinces.3 As Odoacer thus fitted himself into the scheme of empire, so did both Clovis and Theodoric. They do not claim to be emperors (that was reserved for Charlemagne): they claim to be the vicars and lieutenants of the Empire. Theodoric spoke of himself to Zeno as imperio vestro famulans; he left justice and administration in Roman hands, and maintained two annual consuls in Rome. Clovis received the title of consul from Anastasius; the Visigothic kings of Spain (like the kings of the savage Lombards) styled themselves Flavii, and permitted the cities of their eastern coast to send tribute to Constantinople. Yet it must be admitted that, as a matter of fact, this adhesion of the new barbaric kings to the Empire was little more than a form. The Empire maintained its ideal unity by treating them as its vicars; but they themselves were forming separate and independent kingdoms within its borders. The Italy of the Ostrogoths cannot have belonged, in any real sense, to the Empire; otherwise Justinian would never have needed to attempt its reconquest. And in the 7th and 8th centuries the form of adhesion itself decayed: the emperor was retiring upon the Greek world of the East, and the German conquerors, settled within their kingdoms, lost the width of outlook of their old migratory days.
Upon this world, shaped by these ideas, there finally came, in the 5th century, a wave of barbaric invasions. Its impact seemed to break the Empire into scattered kingdoms; yet it left the universal Church intact, and with it the idea of empire. The barbarians were already familiar with that idea for centuries: serving in Roman armies and settling in Roman territories made the Roman Empire a part of their world order, just as it did for the civilized provinces. One of the barbarian invaders, Odoacer, might seem, in 476, to have removed the Empire from the West when he ordered the abdication of Romulus Augustulus; and 476 has indeed been highlighted as marking “the fall of the Western Empire.” Other invaders, like the Frank Clovis or the great Ostrogoth Theodoric, might appear to have fulfilled Odoacer’s task in the following years, shattering the fragile structure of the later Empire by reshaping it into national kingdoms. In reality, there is some truth in that view: legally, there is none. All that Odoacer did was abolish one of the two joint rulers of the indivisible Empire, leaving the remaining ruler at Constantinople as the sole emperor from the Bosporus to the pillars of Hercules. He dissolved the dual sovereignty established by Diocletian and restored the unity of the Empire from the days of Marcus Aurelius. He did not end the Roman Empire in the West; he only removed its separate ruler, and while the Empire itself remained, under the nominal but still acknowledged authority of the emperor in Constantinople, he claimed to act as his representative, calling himself patrician, in the administration of the Italian provinces. As Odoacer found his place within the empire, so did both Clovis and Theodoric. They didn’t claim to be emperors (that title was reserved for Charlemagne); instead, they claimed to be representatives and lieutenants of the Empire. Theodoric referred to himself to Zeno as serving your authority; he left justice and administration in Roman hands and maintained two annual consuls in Rome. Clovis received the title of consul from Anastasius; the Visigothic kings of Spain (like the kings of the fierce Lombards) called themselves Flavii and allowed the cities along their eastern coast to send tribute to Constantinople. However, it must be acknowledged that, in practice, this allegiance of the new barbarian kings to the Empire was little more than a formality. The Empire upheld its ideal unity by treating them as its representatives; but they were forming their own separate and independent kingdoms within its borders. The Italy of the Ostrogoths could not have genuinely belonged, in any real sense, to the Empire; otherwise, Justinian would never have had to attempt its reconquest. By the 7th and 8th centuries, the very form of loyalty began to fade: the emperor was retreating into the Greek world of the East, and the German conquerors, settled in their kingdoms, lost the broad perspective of their earlier nomadic days.
It is here that the action of the Church becomes of supreme
importance. The Church had not ceased to believe in the
continuous life of the Empire. The Fathers had
taught that when the cycle of empires was finally
The Church and the Empire.
ended by the disappearance of the empire of Rome,
the days of Antichrist would dawn; and, since Antichrist
was not yet come, the Church believed that the Empire
still lived, and would continue to live till his coming. Meanwhile
the Eastern emperor, ever since Justinian’s reconquest of
Italy, had been able to maintain his hold on the centre of Italy;
and Rome itself, the seat of the head of the Church, still ranked
as one of the cities under his sway. The imperialist theory of
the Church found its satisfaction in this connexion of its head
with Constantinople; and as long as this connexion continued
to satisfy the Church, there was little prospect of any change.
For many years after their invasion of 568, the pressure which
the Lombards maintained on central Italy, from their kingdom
in the valley of the Po, kept the popes steadily faithful to the
emperor of the East and his representative in Italy, the exarch
of Ravenna. But it was not in the nature of things that such
Growing divergence between East and West.
The popes.
fidelity should continue unimpaired. The development
of the East and the West could not but proceed along
constantly diverging lines, until the point was reached
when their connexion must snap. On the one hand, the
development of the West set towards the increase of the
powers of the bishop of Rome until he reached a height
at which subjection to the emperor at Constantinople became
impossible. Residence in Rome, the old seat of empire, had in
itself given him a great prestige; and to this prestige St Gregory
(pope from 590 to 604) had added in a number of ways. He
was one of the Fathers of the Church, and turned its theology
into the channels in which it was to flow for centuries; he had
acquired for his church the great spiritual colony of England by
the mission of St Augustine; he had been the protector of Italy
against the Lombards. As the popes thus became more and
more spiritual emperors of the West, they found themselves less
and less able to remain the subjects of the lay emperor of the
East. Meanwhile the emperors of the East were led to interfere
in ecclesiastical affairs in a manner which the popes and the
Western Church refused to tolerate. Brought into contact with
the pure monotheism of Mahommedanism, Leo the Isaurian
(718-741) was stimulated into a crusade against image-worship,
in order to remove from the Christian Church the charge of
idolatry. The West clung to its images: the popes revolted
against his decrees; and the breach rapidly became irreparable.
As the hold of the Eastern emperor on central Italy began to be
shaken, the popes may have begun to cherish the hope of becoming
their successors and of founding a temporal dominion; and
that hope can only have contributed to the final dissolution of
their connexion with the Eastern empire.
It is in this context that the role of the Church becomes extremely important. The Church continued to believe in the ongoing existence of the Empire. The Church Fathers taught that when the cycle of empires finally ended with the fall of the Roman Empire, the days of Antichrist would begin; and since Antichrist had not yet arrived, the Church believed that the Empire still existed and would continue to exist until his arrival. Meanwhile, the Eastern emperor, since Justinian's reconquest of Italy, had been able to maintain control over central Italy; and Rome, being the home of the Church's leader, still counted as one of the cities under his authority. The Church's imperialist views found fulfillment in this link to Constantinople; as long as this connection continued to satisfy the Church, there was little chance for any change. For many years following the Lombard invasion of 568, the pressure they exerted on central Italy from their kingdom in the Po Valley kept the popes loyal to the Eastern emperor and his representative in Italy, the exarch of Ravenna. However, it was not sustainable for such loyalty to remain unchanged. The developments in the East and West could only continue to diverge until the moment came when their connection would break. On one side, the West moved towards increasing the powers of the bishop of Rome until he reached a level where being subject to the emperor in Constantinople became impossible. Living in Rome, the former seat of the empire, gave him significant prestige; and St. Gregory (pope from 590 to 604) added to this prestige in numerous ways. He was one of the Church Fathers, shaping its theology in ways that would last for centuries; he secured the great spiritual colony of England for his church through the mission of St. Augustine; he protected Italy against the Lombards. As the popes increasingly became spiritual leaders of the West, they found it harder to remain subjects of the lay emperor of the East. Meanwhile, the Eastern emperors began to interfere in church matters in ways that the popes and the Western Church could not accept. Confronted with the strict monotheism of Islam, Leo the Isaurian (718-741) was inspired to lead a campaign against the worship of images to rid the Christian Church of the accusation of idolatry. The West held onto its images: the popes resisted his decrees, and the rift quickly became irreparable. As the Eastern emperor's grip on central Italy started to weaken, the popes may have begun to hope for their own succession and the establishment of a temporal rule; and that hope likely contributed to the final break in their connection with the Eastern Empire.
Thus, in the course of the 8th century, the Empire, as represented by the emperors at Constantinople, had begun to fade utterly out of the West. It had been forgotten by lay sovereigns; it was being abandoned by the pope, who had been its chosen apostle. But it did not follow that, because the Eastern emperor ceased to be the representative of the Empire for the West, the conception of Empire itself therefore perished. The popes only abandoned the representative; they did not abandon the conception. If they had abandoned the conception, they would have abandoned the idea that there was an order of the world; they would have committed themselves to a belief in the coming of Antichrist. The conception of the world as a single Empire-Church remained: what had to be discovered was a new representative of one of the two sides of that conception. For a brief time, it would seem, the pope himself cherished the idea of becoming, in his own person, the successor of the ancient Caesars in their own old capital. By the aid of the Frankish kings, he had been able to stop the Lombards from acquiring the succession to the derelict territories of the Eastern emperor in Italy (from which their last exarch had fled overseas in 752), and he had become the temporal sovereign of those territories. Successor to the Eastern emperor in central Italy, why should he not also become his successor as representative of the Empire—all the more, since he was the head of the Church, which was coextensive with the Empire? Some such hope seems to inspire the Donation of Constantine, a document forged between 754 and 774, in which Constantine is represented as having conferred on Silvester I. the imperial palace and insignia, and therewith omnes Italiae seu occidentalium regionum provincias loca et civitates. But the hope, if it ever was cherished, 350 proved to be futile. The popes had not the material force at their command which would have made them adequate to the position. The strong arm of the Frankish kings had alone Coronation of Charlemagne as emperor of the West. delivered them from the Lombards: the same strong arm, they found, was needed to deliver them from the wild nobility of their own city. So they turned to the power which was strong enough to undertake the task which they could not themselves attempt, and they invited the Frankish king to become the representative of the imperial conception they cherished.4 In the year 800 central Italy ceased to date its documents by the regnal years of the Eastern emperors; for Charlemagne was crowned emperor in their stead.
Thus, during the 8th century, the Empire, as represented by the emperors in Constantinople, had started to completely fade from the West. It had been forgotten by earthly rulers; it was being abandoned by the pope, who had been its appointed apostle. However, just because the Eastern emperor stopped being the representative of the Empire in the West, it didn’t mean that the idea of the Empire itself disappeared. The popes only abandoned the representative; they didn’t abandon the idea. If they had abandoned the idea, they would have rejected the belief in a universal order; they would have accepted the coming of Antichrist. The idea of the world as a single Empire-Church remained: what needed to be found was a new representative for one side of that idea. For a short time, it seems, the pope himself entertained the thought of becoming, in his own right, the successor of the ancient Caesars in their old capital. With the help of the Frankish kings, he had managed to prevent the Lombards from taking over the abandoned territories of the Eastern emperor in Italy (from which their last exarch had fled overseas in 752), and he had become the political ruler of those territories. As the successor to the Eastern emperor in central Italy, why shouldn’t he also be his successor as the representative of the Empire—all the more so because he was the head of the Church, which was equivalent to the Empire? Some kind of hope seems to drive the Donation of Constantine, a document forged between 754 and 774, in which Constantine is depicted as having granted Silvester I. the imperial palace and insignia, along with omnes Italiae seu occidentalium regionum provincias loca et civitates. But the hope, if it was ever held, turned out to be in vain. The popes did not have the military power necessary to fulfill that role. The strong support of the Frankish kings had alone freed them from the Lombards: they found that the same strength was needed to free them from the unruly nobility in their own city. So they turned to the power that was strong enough to take on the task that they couldn’t attempt themselves, and they invited the Frankish king to become the representative of the imperial idea they valued. 4 In the year 800, central Italy stopped dating its documents by the reigns of the Eastern emperors; Charlemagne was crowned emperor in their place.
The king of the Franks was well fitted for the position which he was chosen to fill. He was king of a stock which had been from the first Athanasian, and had never been tainted, like most of the Germanic tribes, by the adoption of Arian tenets. His grandfather, Charles Martel, had saved Europe from the danger of a Mahommedan conquest by his victory at Poitiers (732); his father, Pippin the Short, had helped the English missionary Boniface to achieve the conversion of Germany. The popes themselves had turned to the Frankish kings for support again and again in the course of the 8th century. Gregory III., involved in bitter hostilities with the iconoclastic reformers of the East, appealed to Charles Martel for aid, and even offered the king, it is said, the titles of consul and patrician. Zacharias pronounced the deposition of the last of the Merovingians, and gave to Pippin the title of king (751); while his successor, Stephen II., hard pressed by the Lombards, who were eager to replace the Eastern emperors in the possession of central Italy, not only asked and received the aid of the new king, but also acquired, in virtue of Pippin’s donation (754), the disputed exarchate itself. Thus was laid the foundation of the States of the Church; and the grateful pope rewarded the donation by the gift of the title of patricius Romanorum, which conferred on its recipient the duty and the privilege of protecting the Roman Church, along with some undefined measure of authority in Rome itself.5 Finally, in 773, Pope Adrian I. had to appeal to Charles, the successor of Pippin, against the aggressions of the last of the Lombard kings; and in 774 Charles conquered the Lombard kingdom, and himself assumed its iron crown. Thus by the end of the 8th century the Frankish king stood on the very steps of the imperial throne. He ruled a realm which extended from the Pyrenees to the Harz, and from Hamburg to Rome—a realm which might be regarded as in itself a de facto empire. He bore the title of patricius, and he had shown that he did not bear it in vain by his vigorous defence of the papacy in 774. Here there stood, ready to hand, a natural representative of the conception of Empire; and Leo III., finding that he needed the aid of Charlemagne to maintain himself against his own Romans, finally took the decisive step of crowning him emperor, as he knelt in prayer at St Peter’s, on Christmas Day, 800.
The king of the Franks was well suited for the role he was chosen to take on. He came from a line that had always been Athanasian and had never been corrupted, like most Germanic tribes, by adopting Arian beliefs. His grandfather, Charles Martel, had saved Europe from the threat of a Muslim conquest with his victory at Poitiers (732); his father, Pippin the Short, had aided the English missionary Boniface in converting Germany. The popes themselves repeatedly turned to the Frankish kings for support throughout the 8th century. Gregory III., embroiled in intense conflicts with the iconoclast reformers of the East, sought help from Charles Martel and even reportedly offered him the titles of consul and patrician. Zacharias declared the deposition of the last Merovingian and granted Pippin the title of king (751); while his successor, Stephen II., pressed by the Lombards, who wanted to replace the Eastern emperors in central Italy, not only requested and received the new king's assistance but also acquired, through Pippin’s donation (754), the disputed exarchate itself. This laid the groundwork for the States of the Church; and the thankful pope rewarded the donation by bestowing the title of patricius Romanorum, which gave its holder the responsibility and privilege of protecting the Roman Church, along with some undefined level of authority in Rome itself.
The coronation of Charlemagne in 800 marks the coalescence into a single unity of two facts, or rather, more strictly speaking, of a fact and a theory. The fact is German and secular: it is the wide de facto empire, which the Frankish sword had conquered, and Frankish policy had organized as a single whole. The theory is Latin and ecclesiastical: it is a theory of the necessary political unity of the world, and its necessary representation in the person of an emperor—a theory half springing Theory of the Carolingian empire. from the unity of the old Roman empire, and half derived from the unity of the Christian Church as conceived in the New Testament. If we seek for the force which caused this fact and this theory to coalesce in the Carolingian empire, we can only answer—the papacy. The idea of Empire was in the Church; and the head of the Church translated this idea into fact. If, however, we seek to conceive the event of 800 from a political or legal point of view, and to determine the residence of the right of constituting an emperor, we at once drift into the fogs of centuries of controversy. Three answers are possible from three points of view; and all have their truth, according to the point of view. From the ecclesiastical point of view, the right resides with the pope. This theory was not promulgated (indeed no theory was promulgated) until the struggles of Papacy and Empire in the course of the middle ages; but by the time of Innocent III. it is becoming an established doctrine that a translatio Imperii took place in 800, whereby the pope transferred the Roman empire from the Greeks to the Germans in the person of the magnificent Charles.6 One can only say that, as a matter of fact, the popes ceased to recognize the Eastern emperors, and recognized Charles instead, in the year 800; that, again, this recognition alone made Charles emperor, as nothing else could have done; but that no question arose, at the time, of any right of the pope to give the Empire to Charlemagne, for the simple reason that neither of the actors was acting or thinking in a legal spirit. If we now turn to study the point of view of the civil lawyer, animated by such a spirit, and basing himself on the code of Justinian, we shall find that an emperor must derive his institution and power from a lex regia passed by the populus Romanus; and such a view, strictly interpreted, will lead us to the conclusion that the citizens of Rome had given the crown to Charlemagne in 800, and continued to bestow it on successive emperors afterwards. There is indeed some speech, in the contemporary accounts of Charlemagne’s coronation, of the presence of “ancients among the Romans” and of “the faithful people”; but they are merely present to witness or applaud, and the conception of the Roman people as the source of Empire is one that was only championed, at a far later date, by antiquarian idealists like Arnold of Brescia and Cola di Rienzi. The faex Romuli, a population of lodging-house keepers, living upon pilgrims to the papal court, could hardly be conceived, except by an ardent imagination, as heir to the Quirites of the past. Finally, from the point of view of the German tribesman, we must admit that the Empire was something which, once received by his king (no matter how), descended in the royal family as an heirloom; or to which (when the kingship became elective) a title was conferred, along with the kingship, by the vote of electors.7
The coronation of Charlemagne in 800 symbolizes the unification of two elements, or more precisely, a fact and a theory. The fact is German and secular: it is the vast de facto empire, which the Frankish sword had conquered, and Frankish policy had organized into a unified whole. The theory is Latin and ecclesiastical: it represents the necessary political unity of the world, embodied in the person of an emperor—a theory that arises partly from the unity of the old Roman Empire and partly from the unity of the Christian Church as understood in the New Testament. If we try to find out what caused this fact and theory to come together in the Carolingian empire, the answer is clear—the papacy. The idea of an Empire existed within the Church, and the head of the Church turned this idea into reality. However, if we try to analyze the event of 800 from a political or legal perspective and determine where the authority to make an emperor lies, we quickly encounter centuries of ambiguous debate. Three answers are possible from three perspectives, and each holds some truth depending on the viewpoint. From the ecclesiastical perspective, the right lies with the pope. This theory wasn’t fully articulated (indeed, no theory was fully articulated) until the struggles between Papacy and Empire during the Middle Ages; by the time of Innocent III, it was becoming an established doctrine that a translatio Imperii took place in 800, whereby the pope transferred the Roman Empire from the Greeks to the Germans through the magnificent Charles.6 It can only be said that, in fact, the popes stopped recognizing the Eastern emperors and acknowledged Charles instead, in the year 800; this acknowledgment alone made Charles emperor, as nothing else could have. However, at the time, there was no discussion about the pope's right to give the Empire to Charlemagne, simply because neither party was acting or thinking in a legal manner. If we now examine the civil lawyer's perspective, driven by a legal mindset and based on the code of Justinian, we find that an emperor must receive his authority and power from a lex regia passed by the populus Romanus; and this interpretation will lead us to conclude that the citizens of Rome granted the crown to Charlemagne in 800 and continued to give it to successive emperors afterward. There is indeed some mention in contemporary accounts of Charlemagne’s coronation regarding the presence of “ancients among the Romans” and “the faithful people”; but they were merely there to witness or applaud, and the idea of the Roman people as the source of Empire was only promoted much later by antiquarian idealists like Arnold of Brescia and Cola di Rienzi. The faex Romuli, a group of lodging-house keepers relying on pilgrims to the papal court, could hardly be seen, except by an imaginative thought, as inheritors of the Quirites of the past. Finally, from the perspective of the German tribesman, we must acknowledge that the Empire was something that, once received by his king (regardless of how), became an heirloom in the royal family; or for which (when kingship became elective) a title was granted, along with kingship, by the vote of electors.7
But apart from these questions of origin, two difficulties have still to be faced with regard to the nature and position of the Carolingian empire. Did Charlemagne and his successors enter into a new relation with their subjects, in virtue of their coronation? And what was the nature of the relation between the new emperor now established in the West and the old emperor still reigning in the East? It is true that Charlemagne exacted a new oath of allegiance from his subjects after his coronation, and again that he had a revision of all the laws of his dominions made in 802. But the revision did not amount to much in bulk: what there was contained little that was Roman; and, on the whole, it hardly seems probable that Charlemagne entered into any new relation with his subjects. The relation of his empire to the empire in the East is a more difficult and important problem. In 797 the empress Irene had deposed and blinded her son, Constantine VI., and usurped his throne. Now it would seem that Charlemagne, whose thoughts 351 were already set on Empire, hoped to depose and succeed Irene, and thus to become sole representative of the conception Relations of the Carolingian to the Eastern empire. of Empire, both for the East and for the West. Suddenly there came, in 800, his own coronation as emperor, an act apparently unpremeditated at the moment, taking him by surprise, as one gathers from Einhard’s Vita Karoli, and interrupting his plans. It left him representative of the Empire for the West only, confronting another representative in the East. Such a position he did not desire: there had been a single Empire vested in a single person since 476, and he desired that there should still continue to be a single Empire, vested only in his own person. He now sought to achieve this unity by a proposal of marriage to Irene. The proposal failed, and he had to content himself with a recognition of his imperial title by the two successors of the empress. This did not, however, mean (at any rate in the issue) that henceforth there were to be two conjoint rulers, amicably ruling as colleagues a single Empire, in the manner of Arcadius and Honorius. The dual government of a single Empire established by Diocletian had finally vanished in 476; and the unity of the Empire was now conceived, as it had been conceived before the days of Diocletian, to demand a single representative. Henceforth there were two rulers, one at Aix-la-Chapelle and one at Constantinople, each claiming, whatever temporary concessions he might make, to be the sole ruler and representative of the Roman empire. On the one hand, the Western emperors held that, upon the deposition of Constantine VI., Charlemagne had succeeded him, after a slight interval, in the government of the whole Empire, both in the East and in the West; on the other hand, the Eastern emperors, in spite of their grudging recognition of Charlemagne at the moment, regarded themselves as the only lawful successors of Constantine VI., and viewed the Carolings and their later successors as upstarts and usurpers, with no right to their imperial pretensions. Henceforth two halves confronted one another, each claiming to be the whole; two finite bodies touched, and each yet claimed to be infinite.
But aside from these questions about origins, there are two challenges that need to be addressed regarding the nature and status of the Carolingian empire. Did Charlemagne and his successors establish a new relationship with their subjects due to their coronation? And what was the nature of the relationship between the new emperor in the West and the old emperor still ruling in the East? It’s true that Charlemagne demanded a new oath of loyalty from his subjects after his coronation, and he also had a revision of all the laws in his territories done in 802. However, the revision wasn't extensive; it included little that was Roman, and overall, it seems unlikely that Charlemagne formed any new relationship with his subjects. The relationship of his empire to the empire in the East is a more complex and significant issue. In 797, Empress Irene deposed and blinded her son, Constantine VI, and took his throne. It seems that Charlemagne, whose ambitions were already pointed toward an empire, hoped to depose Irene and thus become the sole representative of the concept of empire for both the East and the West. Then, unexpectedly, in 800, he was crowned emperor, an act that appeared unplanned at the time and caught him off guard, as gathered from Einhard’s *Vita Karoli*, interrupting his schemes. This left him as the representative of the Empire only in the West, facing another representative in the East. He did not want such a position: there had been a single Empire held by a single person since 476, and he wanted it to remain that way under his sole rule. He then sought to achieve this unity by proposing marriage to Irene. The proposal failed, and he had to settle for a recognition of his imperial title by the two successors of the empress. However, this did not imply (at least in practice) that moving forward there would be two co-rulers amicably governing a single Empire, like Arcadius and Honorius. The dual governance of a single Empire established by Diocletian had finally disappeared in 476; and the unity of the Empire was now seen, as it had been before the time of Diocletian, to require a single representative. From then on, there were two rulers, one in Aix-la-Chapelle and one in Constantinople, each claiming, no matter any temporary concessions they might make, to be the sole ruler and representative of the Roman Empire. On one side, the Western emperors believed that after the deposition of Constantine VI, Charlemagne had succeeded him, albeit briefly, in governing the entire Empire, both in the East and in the West; on the other side, the Eastern emperors, despite their reluctant acknowledgment of Charlemagne at the time, viewed themselves as the only legitimate successors of Constantine VI, and regarded the Carolingians and their later successors as upstarts and usurpers, without any right to their imperial claims. From that point on, two halves faced each other, each claiming to be the whole; two finite entities touched, yet each insisted they were infinite.
If, as has been suggested, Charlemagne did not enter into any fundamentally new relations with his subjects after his coronation, it follows that the results of his coronation, in the sphere of policy and administration, cannot Character of the Carolingian empire. have been considerable. The Empire added a new sanction to a policy and administration already developed. Charlemagne had already showed himself episcopus episcoporum, anxious not only to suppress heresy and supervise the clergy within his borders, but also to extend true Christianity without them even before the year when his imperial coronation gave him a new title to supreme governorship in all cases ecclesiastical. He had already organized his empire on a new uniform system of counties, and the missi dominici were already at work to superintend the action of the counts, even before the renovatio imperii Romani came to suggest such uniformity and centralization. Charlemagne had a new title; but his subjects still obeyed the king of the Franks, and lived by Frankish law, in the old fashion. In their eyes, and in the eyes of Charlemagne’s own descendants, the Empire was something appendant to the kingship of the Franks, which made that kingship unique among others, but did not radically alter its character. True, the kingship might be divided among brothers by the old Germanic custom of partition, while the Empire must inhere in one person; but that was the one difference, and the one difficulty, which might easily be solved by attaching the name of emperor to the eldest brother. Such was the conception of the Carolings: such was not, however, the conception of the Church. To the popes the Empire was a solemn office, to which the kings of the Franks might most naturally be called, in view of their power and the traditions of their house, but which by no means remained in their hands as a personal property. By thus seeking to dissociate the Empire from any indissoluble connexion with the Carolingian house, the popes were able to save it. Civil wars raged among the descendants of Charlemagne: partitions recurred: the Empire was finally dissolved, in the sense that the old realm of Charlemagne fell asunder, in 888. Break-up of the Carolingian empire. But the Empire, as an office, did not perish. During the 9th century the popes had insisted, as each emperor died, that the new emperor needed coronation at their hands; and they had thus kept alive the conception of the Empire as an office to which they invited, if they did not appoint, each successive emperor. The quarrels of the Carolingian house helped them to make good their claim. John VIII. was able to select Charles the Bald in preference to other claimants in 875; and before the end of his Attitude of the papacy. pontificate he could write that “he who is to be ordained by us to the Empire must be by us first and foremost invited and elected.” Thus was the unity of the Empire preserved, and the conception of a united Empire continued, in spite of the eventual dissolution of the realm of Charlemagne. When the Carolingian emperors disappeared, Benedict IV. could crown Louis of Provence (901) and John X. could invite to the vacant throne an Italian potentate like Berengar of Friuli (915); and even when Berengar died in 924, and the Empire was vacant of an emperor, they could hold, and hold with truth, that the Empire was not dead, but only suspended, until such time as they should invite a new ruler to assume the office.
If, as some have suggested, Charlemagne did not establish any fundamentally new relationships with his subjects after his coronation, then the outcomes of his coronation in terms of policy and administration cannot have been significant. The Empire added a new layer of authority to a policy and administration that were already in place. Charlemagne had already shown himself to be the episcopus episcoporum, eager not only to eliminate heresy and oversee the clergy within his realm but also to spread true Christianity beyond his borders even before his imperial coronation gave him a new title of supreme authority in all ecclesiastical matters. He had already organized his empire with a new, uniform system of counties, and the missi dominici were already working to supervise the actions of the counts, even before the renovatio imperii Romani suggested such uniformity and centralization. Charlemagne had a new title, but his subjects still followed the king of the Franks and lived under Frankish law in the traditional way. To them, and to Charlemagne’s descendants, the Empire was something attached to the kingship of the Franks, which made that kingship unique among others but did not fundamentally change its nature. True, the kingship could be divided among brothers according to the old Germanic custom of partition, while the Empire had to belong to one person; but that was the only difference and the only challenge, which could easily be resolved by designating the eldest brother as the emperor. This was the understanding among the Carolingians; however, it was not the view of the Church. To the popes, the Empire was a serious office to which the kings of the Franks might naturally be called, given their power and the traditions of their lineage, but it was not a personal possession. By seeking to separate the Empire from any unbreakable connection with the Carolingian line, the popes managed to preserve it. Civil wars broke out among Charlemagne’s descendants: partitions happened frequently: the Empire was ultimately dissolved in the sense that Charlemagne’s old realm fragmented in 888. But the Empire, as an office, did not die. During the 9th century, the popes insisted that as each emperor died, a new emperor needed to be crowned by them; and they thus kept the concept of the Empire alive as an office to which they invited, if they did not directly appoint, each new emperor. The conflicts within the Carolingian family strengthened their claim. John VIII was able to choose Charles the Bald over other claimants in 875; and before the end of his pontificate, he could state that “he who is to be ordained by us to the Empire must first and foremost be invited and elected by us.” Thus, the unity of the Empire was preserved, and the idea of a united Empire continued, despite the eventual breakdown of Charlemagne’s realm. When the Carolingian emperors vanished, Benedict IV could crown Louis of Provence in 901, and John X could invite an Italian ruler like Berengar of Friuli to the vacant throne in 915; and even when Berengar died in 924, leaving the Empire without an emperor, they could assert, and truthfully so, that the Empire was not dead, but merely in abeyance until they were ready to invite a new ruler to take on the office.
Various causes had contributed to the dissolution of the realm of Charlemagne. Partitions had split it; feudalism had begun to honeycomb it; incessant wars had destroyed its core, the fighting Franks of Austrasia. But, above all, the rise of divisions within the realm, which, whether animated by the spirit of nationality or no, were ultimately destined to develop into nations, had silently undermined the structure of Pippin and Charlemagne. Already in 842 the oath of Strassburg shows us one Caroling king swearing in French and another in German: already in 870 the partition of Mersen shows us the kings of France and Germany dividing the middle kingdom which lay between the two countries by the linguistic frontier of the Meuse and Moselle. The year 888 is the birth-year of modern Europe. France, Germany, Italy, stood distinct as three separate units, with Burgundy and Lorraine as debatable lands, as they were destined to remain for centuries to come. If the conception of Empire was still to survive, the pope must ultimately invite the The German kingdom and the empire. ruler of the strongest of these three units to assume the imperial crown; and this was what happened when in 962 Pope John XII. invited Otto I. of Germany to renew once more the Roman Empire. As the imperial strength of the whole Frankish tribe had given them the Empire in 800, so did the national strength of the East Frankish kingdom, now resting indeed on a Saxon rather than a Frankish basis, bring the Empire to its ruler in 962. The centre of political gravity had already been shifting to the east of the Rhine in the course of the 9th century. While the Northmen had carried their arms along the rivers and into the heart of France, Louis the German had consolidated his kingdom in a long reign of sixty years (817-876); and at the end of the 9th century two kings of Germany had already worn the imperial crown. Early in the 10th century the kingship of Germany had come to the vigorous Saxon dukes (919); and strong in their Saxon basis Henry I. and his son Otto had built a realm which, disunited as it was, was far more compact than that which the Carolings of the West ruled from Laon. Henry I. had thought in his later years of going to Rome for the imperial crown: under Otto I. the imperial idea becomes manifest. On the one hand, he established a semi-imperial position in the West: by 946 Louis IV. d’Outremer is his protégé, and it is his arms which maintain the young Conrad of Burgundy on his throne. On the other hand, he showed, by his policy towards the German Church, that he was the true heir of the Carolingian traditions. He made churchmen his ministers; he established missionary bishoprics on the Elbe which should spread Christianity among the Wends; and his dearest project was a new archbishopric of Magdeburg. The one thing needful was that he should, like Charlemagne, acquire the throne of Italy; and the dissolute condition of that country during the first half of the 352 The Holy Roman Empire. 10th century made its acquisition not only possible, but almost imperative. Begun in 952, the acquisition was completed ten years later; and all the conditions were now present for Otto’s assumption of the imperial throne. He was crowned by John XII. on Candlemas Day 962, and thus was begun the Holy Roman Empire, which lasted henceforth with a continuous life until 1806.8
Various factors had led to the breakdown of Charlemagne's realm. Partitions had divided it; feudalism had started to weaken it; constant wars had devastated its heart, the fighting Franks of Austrasia. But, more than anything, the emergence of divisions within the realm, whether motivated by a sense of nationality or not, was ultimately meant to evolve into nations, which silently eroded the structure built by Pippin and Charlemagne. Already in 842, the Oath of Strassburg shows one Carolingian king swearing in French and another in German; already in 870, the partition of Mersen shows the kings of France and Germany splitting the central kingdom that lay between the two countries along the linguistic border of the Meuse and Moselle. The year 888 marks the birth of modern Europe. France, Germany, and Italy emerged as three distinct units, with Burgundy and Lorraine considered disputed lands, as they were destined to remain for many centuries. If the idea of an Empire was to endure, the pope had to eventually invite the ruler of the strongest of these three units to take the imperial crown; and this occurred in 962 when Pope John XII invited Otto I of Germany to once again revive the Roman Empire. Just as the imperial power of the entire Frankish tribe had granted them the Empire in 800, so did the national strength of the East Frankish kingdom, now resting on a Saxon rather than a Frankish foundation, bring the Empire to its ruler in 962. The center of political influence had already been shifting east of the Rhine throughout the 9th century. While the Northmen had invaded along the rivers and penetrated deep into France, Louis the German had strengthened his kingdom over a lengthy reign of sixty years (817-876); by the late 9th century, two German kings had already held the imperial crown. Early in the 10th century, the kingship of Germany came to the strong Saxon dukes (919); and bolstered by their Saxon foundation, Henry I and his son Otto forged a realm that, while disunited, was much more cohesive than what the Carolingians of the West ruled from Laon. In his later years, Henry I considered going to Rome for the imperial crown: under Otto I, the idea of empire became clear. On one hand, he established a semi-imperial position in the West: by 946, Louis IV d’Outremer was his protégé, and it was his military support that upheld the young Conrad of Burgundy on the throne. On the other hand, he demonstrated through his policies towards the German Church that he was the true heir to the Carolingian legacy. He appointed church leaders as his ministers; he set up missionary bishoprics along the Elbe to spread Christianity among the Wends; and his most cherished project was the establishment of a new archbishopric in Magdeburg. The one essential thing was that he should, like Charlemagne, secure the throne of Italy; and the chaotic state of that country during the first half of the 10th century made this not only possible but nearly necessary. Initiated in 952, the acquisition was completed ten years later; and all the conditions were now in place for Otto’s ascent to the imperial throne. He was crowned by John XII on Candlemas Day 962, marking the beginning of the Holy Roman Empire, which would continue to exist until 1806.8
The same ideas underlay the new empire which had underlain that of Charlemagne, strengthened and reinforced by the fact that they had already found a visible expression before in that earlier empire. Historically, there was the tradition of the old Roman empire, preserved by the Church as an idea, and preserved in the Church, and its imperial organization, as an actual fact. Ecclesiastically, there was the Pauline conception of a single Christian Church, one in subjection to Christ as its Head, and needing (so men still thought) a secular counterpart of its indivisible unity.9 To these two sanctions philosophy later added a third; and the doctrine of Realism, that the one universal is the true abiding substance—the doctrine which pervades the De monarchia of Dante,—reinforced the feeling which demanded that Europe should be conceived as a single political unity. But if the Holy Roman empire of the German nation has the old foundations, it is none the less a thing sui generis. Externally, it meant far less than the empire of Charlemagne; it meant simply a union of Germany and northern Italy (to which, after 1032, one must also add Burgundy, though the addition is in reality nominal) under a single rule. Historians of the 19th century, during the years in which the modern German empire was in travail, disputed sorely on the advantages of this union; but whatever its advantages or disadvantages, the fact remains that the union of Teutonic Germany and Latin Italy was, from an external point of view, the essential fact in the structure of the medieval Empire. Internally, again, the Empire of the Ottos and their successors was new and unprecedented. If Latin imperialism had been combined with Frankish tribalism The Empire and feudalism. in the Empire of Charlemagne, it now met and blended with feudalism. The Holy Roman emperor of the middle ages, as Frederick I. proudly told the Roman envoys, found his senate in the diet of the German baronage, his equites in the ranks of the German knights. Feudalism, indeed, came in time to invade the very conception of Empire itself. The emperors began to believe that their position of emperor made them feudal overlords of other kings and princes; and they came to be regarded as the topmost summit of the feudal pyramid, from whom kings held their kingdoms, while they themselves held directly of God. In this way the old conception of the world as a single political society entered upon a new phase: but the translation of that conception into feudal terms, which might have made Diocletian gasp, only gave it the greater hold on the feudal society of the middle ages. Yet in one way the feudal conception was a source of weakness to the Empire; for the popes, from the middle of the 12th century onwards, began to claim for themselves a feudal overlordship of the world, and to regard the emperor as the chief of their vassals. The theory of the Translatio buttressed their claim to be overlords of the Empire; and the emperors found that their very duty to defend the Papacy turned them into its vassals—for was not the advocatus who defended the lands of an abbey or church its tenant by feudal service, and might not analogy extend the feudal relation to the imperial advocate himself?
The same ideas supported the new empire that had also supported Charlemagne’s, strengthened by the fact that they had already found a visible expression in that earlier empire. Historically, there was the tradition of the old Roman Empire, upheld by the Church as an idea and maintained within the Church, along with its imperial organization as a reality. Ecclesiastically, there was Paul’s vision of a single Christian Church, unified under Christ as its Head, which still required (as many believed) a secular counterpart to its indivisible unity.9 To these two foundations, philosophy later added a third; the doctrine of Realism, which states that the one universal is the true, enduring substance—the doctrine that permeates Dante’s De monarchia—reinforced the belief that Europe should be viewed as a single political unity. However, while the Holy Roman Empire of the German nation has the old foundations, it is nonetheless a unique entity sui generis. Externally, it held far less significance than Charlemagne’s empire; it simply represented a union of Germany and northern Italy (to which, after 1032, one must also nominally add Burgundy) under a single rule. Historians of the 19th century, during the period when the modern German empire was emerging, fiercely debated the benefits of this union; but whatever its pros or cons, the fact remains that the union of Teutonic Germany and Latin Italy was, from an external perspective, the essential aspect of the medieval Empire. Internally, the Empire of the Ottos and their successors was new and unprecedented. If Latin imperialism had merged with Frankish tribalism in Charlemagne’s Empire, it now met and fused with feudalism. The Holy Roman Emperor of the Middle Ages, as Frederick I proudly informed the Roman envoys, found his senate in the diet of the German baronage and his equites among the ranks of the German knights. Over time, feudalism began to permeate the very concept of the Empire itself. The emperors started to believe that their role as emperor entitled them to be feudal overlords of other kings and princes; they came to be seen as the pinnacle of the feudal hierarchy, from whom kings derived their kingdoms, while they themselves held directly from God. In this way, the old idea of the world as a single political society entered a new phase: but the adaptation of this concept into feudal terms, which could have made Diocletian gasp, only solidified its influence on the feudal society of the Middle Ages. Yet, in one way, the feudal concept weakened the Empire; for from the middle of the 12th century onward, the popes began to claim a feudal overlordship over the world and viewed the emperor as their top vassal. The theory of the Translatio supported their claim to be overlords of the Empire; and the emperors found that their very duty to defend the Papacy transformed them into its vassals—for was not the advocatus who defended the lands of an abbey or church its tenant through feudal service, and could that analogy not extend the feudal relationship to the imperial advocate himself?
The relation of the Empire to the Papacy is indeed the cardinal fact in its history for the three centuries which followed the coronation of Otto I. (962-1250). For a century (962-1076) the relation was one of amity. The pope The Empire and the Papacy. and the emperor stood as co-ordinate sovereigns, ruling together the commonwealth of Europe.10 If either stood before the other, the emperor stood before the pope. The Romans had sworn to Otto I. that they would never elect or ordain a pope without his consent; and the rights over papal elections conceived to belong to the office of patricius, which they generally held, enabled the emperors, upon occasion, to nominate the pope of their choice. The partnership of Otto III., son of a Byzantine princess, and his nominee Silvester II. (already distinguished as Gerbert, scholasticus of the chapter school of Reims) forms a remarkable page in the annals of Empire and Papacy. Otto, once the pupil of Silvester in classical studies, and taught by his mother the traditions of the Byzantine empire, dreamed of renewing the Empire of Constantine, with Rome itself for its centre; and this antiquarian idealism (which Arnold of Brescia and Cola di Rienzi were afterwards, though with some difference of aim, to share) was encouraged in his pupil by the pope. Tradition afterwards ascribed to the two the first project of a crusade, and the institution of the seven electors: in truth their faces were turned to the past rather than to the future, and they sought not to create, but to renovate. The dream of restoring the age of Constantine passed with the premature death of Otto; and after the death of Silvester II. the papacy was degraded into an appendage of the Tusculan family. From that degradation the Church was rescued by Henry III. (the second emperor of the new Salian house, which reigned from 1024 to 1125), when in 1046 he caused the deposition of three competing popes, and afterwards filled the papal chair with his own nominees; but it was rescued more effectually by itself, when in 1059 the celebrated bull In nomine Domini of Nicholas II. reserved the right of electing the popes to the college of cardinals (see Conclave). A new era of the Papacy begins with the decree, and that era found its exponent in Hildebrand. If under Henry III. the Empire stands in many respects at its zenith, and the emperor nominates to the Papacy, it sinks, under Henry IV., almost to the nadir of its fortunes, and a pope attempts, with no little success, to fight and defeat an emperor.
The relationship between the Empire and the Papacy is a key fact in its history for the three centuries that followed Otto I's coronation (962-1250). For a century (962-1076), this relationship was friendly. The pope and the emperor acted as co-equal rulers, governing the European commonwealth together. If one was to take precedence over the other, it was the emperor who took precedence over the pope. The Romans had promised Otto I that they would never elect or ordain a pope without his approval. The rights over papal elections that came with the title of patricius, which they commonly held, allowed the emperors to occasionally nominate the pope they favored. The partnership between Otto III, the son of a Byzantine princess, and his chosen pope, Silvester II (who was already well-known as Gerbert, the scholasticus of the chapter school of Reims), is an important chapter in the history of the Empire and Papacy. Otto, once a student of Silvester in classical studies and taught by his mother about the traditions of the Byzantine Empire, envisioned reviving the Empire of Constantine, with Rome as its center. This antiquarian idealism, which Arnold of Brescia and Cola di Rienzi would later share, was supported by the pope in his student. Tradition later attributed to them the first idea of a crusade and the establishment of the seven electors; in reality, they looked more to the past than the future and aimed not to create but to restore. The dream of revitalizing Constantine’s era ended with Otto’s untimely death, and following Silvester II's death, the papacy became subservient to the Tusculan family. The Church was saved from this decline by Henry III (the second emperor of the new Salian dynasty, which ruled from 1024 to 1125), when in 1046 he removed three rival popes and subsequently appointed his own nominees to the papacy; however, it was more effectively saved by itself when, in 1059, the famous bull In nomine Domini from Nicholas II reserved the right to elect popes to the college of cardinals (see Conclave). A new era for the Papacy began with this decree, and that era was exemplified by Hildebrand. While under Henry III the Empire was at its peak in many ways and the emperor had the power to appoint popes, it nearly reached the lowest point of its fortunes under Henry IV, as a pope successfully attempted to challenge and defeat an emperor.
The rise of the Papacy, which the action of Henry III. in 1046 had helped to begin, and the bull of 1059 had greatly promoted, was ultimately due to an ecclesiastical revival, which goes by the name of the Cluniac movement. The aim The Investiture contest. of that movement was to separate the Church from the world, and thus to make it independent of the laity and the lay power; and it sought to realize its aim first by the prohibition of clerical marriage and simony, and ultimately by the prohibition of lay investiture. A decree of Gregory VII. in 1075 forbade emperor, king or prince to “presume to give investiture of bishoprics,” under pain of excommunication; and Henry IV., contravening the decree, fell under the penalty, and the War of Investitures began (1076-1122). Whether or no Henry humiliated himself at Canossa (and the opinion of German historians now inclines to regard the traditional account as exaggerated) the Empire certainly suffered in his reign a 353 great loss of prestige. The emperor lost his hold over Germany, where the aid of the pope strengthened the hands of the discontented nobility: he lost his hold over Italy, where the Lombard towns gradually acquired municipal independence, and the donation of the Countess Matilda gave the popes the germ of a new and stronger dominium temporale. The First Crusade came, and the emperor, its natural leader, could not lead it; while the centre of learning and civilization, in the course of the fifty years’ War of Investitures, gradually shifted to France. The struggle was finally ended by a compromise—the Concordat of Worms—in 1122; but the Papacy, which had fought the long War of Investitures and inspired the First Crusade, was a far greater power than it had been at the beginning of the struggle, and the emperor, shaken in his hold on Germany and Italy, had lost both power and prestige (see Investiture). It is significant that a theory of the feudal subjection of the emperor to the pope, foreshadowed in the pontificate of Innocent II., and definitely enounced by the envoys of Adrian IV. at the diet of Besançon in 1157, now begins to arise. The popes, who had called the emperors to be heads of the European commonwealth in 800 and again in 962, begin to vindicate that headship for themselves. Gregory VII. had already claimed that the pope stood to the emperor, as the sun to the moon; and gradually the old co-ordination disappeared in a new subordination of the Empire to the papal plenitudo potestatis. The claim of ecclesiastical independence of the middle of the 11th century was rapidly becoming a claim of ecclesiastical supremacy in the middle of the 12th: the imperial claim to nominate popes, which had lasted till 1059, was turning into the papal claim to nominate emperors. Yet at this very time a new period of splendour dawned for the Empire; and the rule of the three Hohenstaufen emperors, Frederick I., Henry VI. and Frederick II. (1152-1250), marks the period of its history which attracts most sympathy and admiration.
The rise of the Papacy, which Henry III's actions in 1046 helped to initiate, and the bull of 1059 significantly advanced, was ultimately the result of an ecclesiastical revival known as the Cluniac movement. This movement aimed to separate the Church from worldly influences, making it independent from the laity and secular power. It sought to achieve this goal first by prohibiting clerical marriage and simony, and ultimately by banning lay investiture. In 1075, Gregory VII issued a decree prohibiting any emperor, king, or prince from “presuming to give investiture of bishoprics,” under the threat of excommunication. When Henry IV ignored this decree, he incurred the penalty, which led to the Investiture Conflict (1076-1122). Whether Henry truly humiliated himself at Canossa (many German historians now view the traditional account as exaggerated), the Empire certainly lost considerable prestige during his reign. The emperor lost control over Germany, where the pope’s assistance strengthened the discontented nobility; he lost influence in Italy, where the Lombard cities gradually gained municipal independence, and the donation from Countess Matilda provided the popes with the foundation for a new and stronger temporal authority. The First Crusade arose, but the emperor, its natural leader, could not lead it; meanwhile, the center of learning and civilization shifted to France over the course of the fifty years of the Investiture Conflict. The struggle ultimately ended with a compromise—the Concordat of Worms—in 1122. However, the Papacy, having fought through the long Investiture Conflict and inspired the First Crusade, emerged far more powerful than at the start of the struggle, while the emperor, weakened in his control over Germany and Italy, had lost both power and prestige (see Investiture). It is notable that a theory emerged suggesting the feudal subordination of the emperor to the pope, hinted at during the papacy of Innocent II, and formally articulated by Adrian IV's envoys at the diet of Besançon in 1157. The popes, who had once invited emperors to be the heads of the European commonwealth in 800 and again in 962, began to claim that leadership for themselves. Gregory VII had already asserted that the pope was to the emperor as the sun is to the moon, and gradually, the previous balance of power shifted into a new subordination of the Empire to the papal authority. The claim for ecclesiastical independence from the mid-11th century rapidly transformed into a claim for ecclesiastical supremacy by the mid-12th century; the imperial right to appoint popes, which persisted until 1059, was turning into the papal right to appoint emperors. Yet, during this same period, a new era of prominence dawned for the Empire, and the reign of the three Hohenstaufen emperors—Frederick I, Henry VI, and Frederick II (1152-1250)—marks a time in its history that garners the most sympathy and admiration.
Frederick I. regained a new strength in Germany, partly because he united in his veins the blood of the two great contending families, the Welfs and the Waiblingens; partly because he had acquired large patrimonial possessions The Hohenstaufen emperors. in Swabia, which took the place of the last Saxon demesne; partly because he had a greater control over the German episcopate than his predecessors had enjoyed for many years past. At the same time the revival of interest in the study of Roman law gave the emperor, as source and centre of that law, a new dignity and prestige, particularly in Italy, the home and hearth of the revival. Confident in this new strength, he attempted to vindicate his claims on Italy, and sought, by uniting the two under his sway, to inspire with new life the old Ottonian Empire. He failed to crush Lombard municipal independence: defeated at Legnano in 1176, he had to recognize his defeat at the treaty of Constance in 1183. He failed to acquire control over the Papacy: a new struggle of Empire and Papacy, begun in the pontificate of Adrian IV. on the question of control over Rome, and continued in the pontificate of Alexander III., because Frederick recognized an anti-pope, ended in the emperor’s recognition of his defeat at Venice in 1177. The one success was the acquisition of the Norman kingdom for Henry VI., who was married to its heiress, Constance. But the one success of Frederick’s Italian policy proved the ruin of his house in the reign of his grandson Frederick II. On the one hand, the possession of Sicily induced Frederick II. to neglect Germany; and by two documents, one of 1220 and one of 1231, he practically abdicated his sovereign powers to the German princes in order to conciliate their support for his Italian policy. On the other hand, the possession of Sicily involved him in the third great struggle of Empire and Papacy. Strong in his Sicilian kingdom in the south, and seeking, like his grandfather, to establish his power in Lombardy, Frederick practically aimed at the unification of Italy, a policy which threatened to engulf the States of the Church and to reduce the Papacy to impotence. The popes excommunicated the emperor: they aided the Lombard towns to maintain their independence; finally, after Frederick’s death (1250), they summoned Charles of Anjou into Overthrow of the Empire in Italy. Sicily to exterminate his house. By 1268 he had done his work, and the medieval Empire was practically at an end. When Rudolph of Habsburg succeeded in 1273, he was only the head of a federation of princes in Germany, while in Italy he abandoned all claims over the centre and south, and only retained titular rights in the Lombard plain.
Frederick I regained a new strength in Germany, partly because he united in his veins the blood of the two major rival families, the Welfs and the Waiblingens; partly because he had acquired large inherited lands in Swabia, which replaced the last Saxon estate; and partly because he had more control over the German church officials than his predecessors had enjoyed for many years. At the same time, the renewed interest in Roman law gave the emperor, as the source and center of that law, a new dignity and status, particularly in Italy, the birthplace of this revival. Confident in this new strength, he attempted to assert his claims in Italy and aimed to unite both regions under his rule, hoping to revitalize the old Ottonian Empire. However, he failed to suppress Lombard municipal independence; defeated at Legnano in 1176, he had to acknowledge his defeat in the treaty of Constance in 1183. He also failed to gain control over the Papacy: a new conflict between the Empire and the Papacy, starting during the pontificate of Adrian IV over control of Rome, and continuing under Alexander III when Frederick recognized an anti-pope, ended with the emperor’s acknowledgment of his defeat at Venice in 1177. The one success was securing the Norman kingdom for Henry VI, who was married to its heiress, Constance. But this success in Frederick's Italian policy led to the downfall of his house during the reign of his grandson Frederick II. On one hand, holding Sicily caused Frederick II to neglect Germany, and through two documents, one from 1220 and another from 1231, he effectively gave up his sovereign powers to the German princes to gain their support for his Italian ambitions. On the other hand, holding Sicily embroiled him in the third great struggle between the Empire and the Papacy. Strong in his Sicilian kingdom in the south, and seeking, like his grandfather, to establish his power in Lombardy, Frederick aimed for the unification of Italy, a policy that threatened to undermine the States of the Church and weaken the Papacy. The popes excommunicated the emperor, supported the Lombard cities to maintain their independence; finally, after Frederick’s death (1250), they called Charles of Anjou into Sicily to eliminate his dynasty. By 1268, he had completed his mission, and the medieval Empire was effectively at an end. When Rudolph of Habsburg took over in 1273, he was only the leader of a federation of princes in Germany, while in Italy he renounced all claims over the center and south, only keeping nominal rights in the Lombard plain.
Thus ended the first great chapter in the history of the Holy Roman Empire which Otto had founded in 962. In those three centuries the great fact had been its relation to the Papacy: in the last two of those three centuries the relation had been one of enmity. The basis of the enmity had been the papal claim to supreme headship of Latin Christianity, and to an independent temporal demesne in Italy as the condition of that headship. Because they desired supreme headship, the popes had sought to reduce the emperor’s headship to something lower than, and dependent upon, their own—to a mere fief held of St Peter: because they desired a temporal demesne, they had sought to expel him from Italy, since any imperial hold on Italy threatened their independence. They had succeeded in defeating the Empire, but they had also destroyed the Papacy; for the French aid which they had invoked against the Hohenstaufen developed, within fifty years of the fall of that house, into French control, and the captivity at Avignon (1308-1378) was the logical result of the final victory of Charles of Anjou at Tagliacozzo. The struggle seemed to have ended in nothing but the exhaustion of both combatants. Yet in many respects it had in reality made for progress. It had set men thinking of the respective limits of church and state, as the many libelli de lite imperatorum et pontificum show; and from that thought had issued a new conception of the state, as existing in its own right and supreme in its own sphere, a conception which is the necessary basis of the modern nation-state. If it had dislocated Germany into a number of territorial principalities, it had produced a college of electors to represent the cause of unity: if it had helped to prevent the unification of Italy, and had left to Italy the fatal legacy of Guelph and Ghibelline feuds, it had equally helped to produce Italian municipal independence.
Thus ended the first major chapter in the history of the Holy Roman Empire that Otto had established in 962. Over those three centuries, the key issue was its relationship with the Papacy: in the last two of those centuries, this relationship had turned hostile. The source of the hostility was the papal claim to supreme authority over Latin Christianity and an independent territory in Italy as a condition of that authority. Because they wanted supreme power, the popes tried to reduce the emperor's authority to something less than and dependent on their own, treating it like a mere fief under St. Peter. Since they wanted a territorial base, they also sought to drive him out of Italy, as any imperial control over Italy posed a threat to their independence. They succeeded in defeating the Empire, but they also weakened the Papacy; the French support they sought against the Hohenstaufen quickly resulted in French domination, and the Papacy's captivity in Avignon (1308-1378) was a direct outcome of Charles of Anjou's final triumph at Tagliacozzo. The struggle seemed to result in nothing more than the exhaustion of both sides. Yet, in many ways, it actually contributed to progress. It got people thinking about the respective boundaries of church and state, as evidenced by the numerous libelli de lite imperatorum et pontificum; and from that thinking emerged a new understanding of the state as existing independently and supreme in its own sphere, a concept that is the essential foundation of the modern nation-state. While it fragmented Germany into various territorial principalities, it also established a group of electors to advocate for unity. Although it hindered the unification of Italy and left the country with the detrimental legacy of Guelph and Ghibelline conflicts, it simultaneously promoted Italian municipal independence.
A new chapter of the history of the Empire fills the three centuries from 1273 to 1556—from the accession of Rudolph of Habsburg to the abdication of Charles V. Italy was now lost: the Empire had now no peculiar connexion The Empire from the election of Rudolph of Habsburg, 1273. with Rome, and far less touch with the Papacy. A new Germany had risen. The extinction of several royal stocks and the nomination of anti-kings in the course of civil wars had made the monarchy elective, and raised to the side of the emperor a college of electors (see Electors), which appears as definitely established soon after 1250. With Italy lost, and Germany thus transmuted, why should the Empire have still continued to exist? In the first place, it continued to exist because the Germans still found a king necessary and because, the German king having been called for three centuries emperor, it seemed necessary that he should still continue to bear the name. In this sense the Empire existed as the presidency of a Germanic confederation, and as something analogous to the modern German empire, with the one great difference that the Hohenzollerns now derive from Prussia a strength which enables them to make their imperial position a reality, while no Luxemburg or Habsburg was able to make his imperial position otherwise than honorary and nominal. In the second place, it continued to exist because the conception of the unity of western Europe still lingered, and was still conceived to need an exponent. In this sense the Empire existed as a presidency, still more honorary and still more nominal, of the nations of western Europe. In both capacities the emperor existed to a great extent because he was a legal necessity—because, in Germany, he was necessary for the investiture of princes with their principalities, and because, in Europe, he was necessary, as the source of all rights, to bestow crowns upon would-be kings, or to act as the head of the great orders of chivalry, or to give patents to notaries. With the history of the Empire regarded as a German confederation we are not here concerned. The reigns of the Habsburg, Luxemburg and 354 Wittelsbach emperors belong to the history of Germany. Yet two of these emperors, Henry VII. and Louis IV., should not pass without notice, the one for his own sake, the other for the sake of his adherents, and both because, by interfering in Italy, and coming into conflict with the Papacy, they brought once more into prominence the European aspect of the Empire.
A new chapter in the history of the Empire spans three centuries from 1273 to 1556—from the rise of Rudolph of Habsburg to the resignation of Charles V. Italy was now lost; the Empire had no special connection with Rome and even less with the Papacy. A new Germany had emerged. The end of several royal families and the appointment of anti-kings during civil wars made the monarchy elective, and established a college of electors alongside the emperor (see Electors), which seems to have been firmly in place soon after 1250. With Italy lost and Germany transformed, why should the Empire still exist? First, it continued because the Germans still felt the need for a king, and since for three centuries the German king had been referred to as emperor, it seemed necessary for him to keep that title. In this sense, the Empire functioned as the leadership of a Germanic confederation and was somewhat analogous to the modern German empire, with one major difference: the Hohenzollerns drew strength from Prussia, allowing them to make their imperial status a reality, while no Luxemburg or Habsburg could make his position anything more than honorary and nominal. Secondly, it persisted because the idea of the unity of Western Europe still lingered, and people still believed it needed a representative. In this sense, the Empire served as a more honorary and nominal leadership for the nations of Western Europe. In both roles, the emperor largely existed because he was a legal necessity—he was needed in Germany for the investiture of princes with their territories, and in Europe, he served as the source of all rights, bestowing crowns on aspiring kings, leading the great orders of chivalry, or issuing patents to notaries. We are not focusing on the Empire's history as a German confederation here. The reigns of the Habsburg, Luxemburg, and Wittelsbach emperors are part of Germany's history. However, two of these emperors, Henry VII and Louis IV, deserve mention—one for his own sake, and the other for his supporters—because by getting involved in Italy and clashing with the Papacy, they once again highlighted the European aspect of the Empire.
Henry VII., the contemporary and the hero of Dante, descended into Italy in 1310, partly because he had no power and no occupation in Germany, partly because he was deeply imbued with the sense of his imperial dignity. Coming as a peacemaker and mediator, he was driven by Guelph opposition into a Ghibelline rôle; and he came into conflict with Clement V., the first of the Avignonese popes, who under the pressure of France attempted to enforce upon Henry a recognition of his feudal subjection. Henry asserted his independence: he claimed Rome for his capital, and the lordship of the world for his right; but, just as a struggle seemed impending, he died, in 1313. During the reign of his successor, Louis IV., the struggle came. Louis had been excommunicated by John XXII. in 1324 for acting as emperor before he had received papal recognition. None the less, in 1328, he came to Rome for his coronation. He had gathered round him strange allies; on the one hand, the more advanced Franciscans, apostles of the cause of clerical disendowment, and inimical to a wealthy papacy; on the other hand, jurists like Marsilius of Padua and John of Jandun, who brought to the cause of Louis the spirit and the doctrines which had already been used in the struggle between Boniface VIII. and Philip IV. of France. Marsilius in particular, in a treatise called the Defensor Pacis, insisted on the majesty of the lay state, and even on its superiority to the Church. Perhaps it was Marsilius, learned as he was in Roman law, and remembering the lex regia by which the Roman people had of old conferred its power on the emperor, who suggested to Louis the policy, which he followed, of receiving the imperial crown by the decree and at the hands of the Roman people. The policy was remarkable: Louis embraced an alliance which Frederick Barbarossa had spurned, and recognized the medieval Romans as the source of imperial power. Not less remarkable was the new attitude of the German electors, who for the first time supported an emperor against the pope, because they now felt menaced in their own electoral rights; and the one permanent result which finally flowed from the struggle was the enunciation and definition of the rights and privileges of the electors in the Golden Bull of 1356 (see Golden Bull).
Henry VII, the contemporary and hero of Dante, arrived in Italy in 1310, partly because he had no influence or role in Germany, and partly because he felt strongly about his imperial status. He came as a peacemaker and mediator but was pushed into a Ghibelline position by Guelph opposition. This led him into conflict with Clement V, the first of the Avignon popes, who, under pressure from France, tried to impose feudal subjection on Henry. Henry asserted his independence, claimed Rome as his capital, and proclaimed his right to rule the world; but just as a struggle seemed imminent, he died in 1313. During the reign of his successor, Louis IV, the conflict arose. Louis was excommunicated by John XXII in 1324 for acting as emperor before receiving papal approval. Nevertheless, in 1328, he traveled to Rome for his coronation. He surrounded himself with unusual allies: on one side were the progressive Franciscans, advocates for clerical disendowment and opponents of a wealthy papacy; on the other were jurists like Marsilius of Padua and John of Jandun, who contributed ideas and principles derived from the struggle between Boniface VIII and Philip IV of France. Marsilius, in particular, in a work titled Defensor Pacis, emphasized the authority of the lay state and even argued its superiority over the Church. It’s possible that Marsilius, knowledgeable in Roman law and recalling the lex regia through which the Roman people had historically conferred power on the emperor, inspired Louis’s strategy of obtaining the imperial crown through a decree from the Roman people. This approach was noteworthy: Louis formed an alliance that Frederick Barbarossa had rejected and acknowledged the medieval Romans as the source of imperial authority. Equally remarkable was the shift among the German electors, who, for the first time, backed an emperor against the pope because they felt their own electoral rights were threatened. The one lasting outcome of this struggle was the clarification and establishment of the electors' rights and privileges in the Golden Bull of 1356 (see Golden Bull).
In this struggle with the Papacy the Empire had shown something of its old universal aspect. It had come into connexion with Italy, and into close connexion with Rome: it had enlisted in defence of its rights at once an Italian like Marsilius and an Englishman like Ockham. The same universal aspect appeared once more in the age of the conciliar movement, at the beginning of the 15th century. One of the essential duties of the emperor, as defender of the Church, was to help the assembling and the deliberations of general councils of the Church. This was the duty discharged by Sigismund, when he forced John XXIII. to summon a council at Constance in 1414, and sought, though in vain, to guide its deliberations. The journey which Sigismund undertook in the interests of the council (1415-1417) is particularly noteworthy. He sought to make peace throughout western Europe, acting as international arbitrator—in virtue of his presidency of western Europe—between England and France, between Burgundians and Armagnacs; but he failed in his aim, and when he returned to the council, it was only to witness the defeat of the party of reform which he championed. National The Empire and the rise of the idea of national states. feeling and national antipathies proved too strong for Sigismund’s attempt to revive the medieval empire for the purposes of international arbitration: the same feeling, the same antipathies, made inevitable the failure of the council itself, in which western Europe had sought to meet once more as a single religious commonwealth. Early in the 15th century, therefore, the conception of the unity of western Europe, as a single Empire-Church, was already waning in both its aspects. The unity of the Church Universal was dissolving, and the conception of the nation-church arising (as the separate concordats granted by Martin V. to the different nations prove); while the unity of the Empire was proved a dream, by the powerlessness of the emperor in the face of the struggle of England and France.
In this conflict with the Papacy, the Empire demonstrated some of its former universal character. It had established connections with Italy and formed a close relationship with Rome; it had brought together both an Italian like Marsilius and an Englishman like Ockham to defend its rights. This universal character reemerged during the conciliar movement at the start of the 15th century. One of the key responsibilities of the emperor, as the defender of the Church, was to assist in the organization and discussions of general Church councils. Sigismund fulfilled this duty when he pressured John XXIII to call a council at Constance in 1414 and attempted, though unsuccessfully, to influence its discussions. Sigismund’s journey in support of the council from 1415 to 1417 is particularly noteworthy. He aimed to establish peace across western Europe, acting as an international arbitrator—by virtue of his presidency over western Europe—between England and France, and between the Burgundians and Armagnacs; however, he did not achieve his goal. When he returned to the council, it was only to see the defeat of the reform movement he supported. National sentiment and rivalries were too strong for Sigismund’s efforts to revive the medieval empire as a platform for international arbitration: this same sentiment and these rivalries ultimately led to the failure of the council itself, which aimed for a united religious community in western Europe. Thus, by the early 15th century, the idea of the unity of western Europe as a single Empire-Church was already diminishing in both its forms. The unity of the Universal Church was breaking down, while the idea of nation-churches was emerging (as confirmed by the separate agreements granted by Martin V to different nations); at the same time, the unity of the Empire was shown to be an illusion by the emperor’s inability to mediate between the conflicts of England and France.
Renaissance and Reformation combined to complete the fall which the failure of Sigismund to guide the conciliar movement had already foreshadowed. The Renaissance, revolting against the medievalism of the studium and not Influence of the Reformation. sparing even the sacerdotium of the middle ages, had little respect for the medieval imperium; and, going back to pure Latin and original Greek, it went back beyond even the classical empire to find its ideals and inspirations. But it is the coming of the Reformation, and with it of the nation-church, which finally marks the epoch at which the last vestige of the old conception of the political unity of the world disappears before the nation-state. Externally indeed it seemed, at the time of the Reformation, as if the old Empire had been revived in the person of Charles V., who owned territories as vast as those of Charlemagne. But Charles’s dominions were a dynastic agglomeration, knit together by no vivifying conception; and, though Charles was a champion of the one Catholic Church against the Reformation, he did not in any way seek to revive the power of the medieval empire. Meanwhile the reforming monarchs, while they cast off the Roman Church, cast off with it the Roman empire. Henry VIII. declared himself free, not only of the pope, but of all other foreign power; not only so, but as he sought to take the place of the pope with regard to his own church, so he sought to take the place of the emperor with regard to his kingdom, and spoke of his “imperial” crown, a style which recurs in later Tudor reigns.11 The conception of one Empire passed out of Europe, or, if it remained, it remained only in an honorary precedence accorded by other sovereigns to the king of Germany, who still entitled himself emperor. In Germany itself the honorary presidency which the emperor enjoyed over the princes came to mean still less than before, when religious differences divided the country, and the principle of cujus regio ejus religio accentuated the local autonomy of the prince. When Charles abdicated in 1556, the change which the accession of Rudolph of Habsburg had already marked was complete: there was no empire except in Germany, and in Germany the Empire was nothing more than a convenient legal conception. The Reformation, by sweeping away the spiritual unity of western Christendom, had swept away any real conception of its political unity, and with that conception it had swept away the Empire; while it had also, by splitting Germany into two religious camps, and making the emperor at the most the head of a religious faction, dissipated the last vestiges of a real Empire in the country which had, since 962, been its peculiar home.
The Renaissance and Reformation came together to finalize the decline that the failure of Sigismund to lead the conciliar movement had already predicted. The Renaissance, rebelling against the medieval era of the studium and not holding back from critiquing the sacerdotium of the Middle Ages, had little regard for the medieval imperium; instead, it looked back to pure Latin and original Greek, seeking inspiration and ideals even before the classical empire. However, it was the emergence of the Reformation, along with the rise of the nation-church, that truly marked the moment when the last remnants of the old idea of a political unity across the world faded in favor of the nation-state. At the time of the Reformation, it might have appeared as though the old Empire had been revived in the person of Charles V., who ruled over territories as extensive as those of Charlemagne. Yet, Charles’s lands were merely a dynastic collection, lacking any unifying purpose; and although he positioned himself as a defender of the one Catholic Church against the Reformation, he did not attempt to restore the power of the medieval empire. Meanwhile, the reforming monarchs, while breaking away from the Roman Church, also distanced themselves from the Roman Empire. Henry VIII declared himself free not only from the pope but from all other foreign powers; furthermore, as he sought to replace the pope in relation to his own church, he also aimed to replace the emperor in relation to his kingdom, referring to his “imperial” crown—a title that would reappear in the later Tudor reigns.11 The idea of a single Empire faded from Europe, or if it remained, it was only as an honorary status given by other rulers to the king of Germany, who still called himself emperor. Within Germany, the honorary leadership that the emperor held over the princes became even less meaningful, especially when religious differences split the country, with the principle of cujus regio ejus religio emphasizing the local autonomy of princes. When Charles abdicated in 1556, the shift that Rudolph of Habsburg’s accession had already indicated was complete: there was no empire except in Germany, and in Germany, the Empire was nothing more than a useful legal concept. The Reformation, by dismantling the spiritual unity of western Christendom, also destroyed any genuine notion of its political unity, taking the Empire down with it; it further fragmented Germany into two religious factions, reducing the emperor to the head of a religious group and eradicating the last remnants of a real Empire in the land that had been its unique home since 962.
From 1556 to 1806 the Empire means a loose federation of the different princes of Germany, lay and ecclesiastical, under the presidency, elective in theory but hereditary in practice, of the house of Habsburg. It is an empire The Empire as a German confederation. much in the same sense as the modern German empire, with a diet somewhat analogous to the modern Bundesrat, and a cumbrous imperial chamber for purposes of justice, hardly at all analogous to the highly organized system of federal justice which prevails in Germany to-day. The dissolution of the Holy Roman Empire into this loose federation had already been anticipated by the concessions made to the princes by Frederick II. in 1220 and 1231; but the final organization of Germany on federal lines was only attained in the treaty of Westphalia of 1648. The attempt of Ferdinand II., in the course of the Thirty Years’ War, to assert a practically monarchical authority over the princes of Germany, only led to the regular vindication by the princes of their own monarchical authority. The emperor, who had tried in the 15th century to be the international authority of all Europe, now sank to the position of less than inter-state arbitrator in Germany. That the Empire and the emperor were retained at all, when the princes became 355 so many independent sovereigns, was due partly to a lingering sense of quasi-national sentiment for a magni nominis umbra, partly to the need of some authority which should combine in one whole principalities of very different sizes and strengths, and should protect the weak from the strong, and all from France. But this authority only found its symbol in the emperor. Such real federal authority as there was remained with the diet, a congress of sovereign princes through their accredited representatives; and the emperor’s sole rights, as emperor, were those of granting titles and confirming tolls. The Habsburgs, emperors in each successive generation, never pursued an imperial, but always a dynastic policy; and they were perfectly ready to sacrifice to the aggrandizement of their house the honour of the Empire, as when they ceded Lorraine to France in return for Tuscany (1735).
From 1556 to 1806, the Empire was a loose federation of various princes in Germany, both secular and ecclesiastical, under the leadership of the Habsburg family, which was elected in theory but hereditary in practice. It resembled the modern German empire, featuring a diet similar to today’s Bundesrat and a complicated imperial court for justice, which was hardly comparable to the organized federal justice system we see in Germany today. The breakup of the Holy Roman Empire into this loose federation was foreshadowed by the concessions made to the princes by Frederick II in 1220 and 1231; however, the formal federal structure of Germany was only established with the Treaty of Westphalia in 1648. Ferdinand II's attempt to assert almost monarchical power over the German princes during the Thirty Years' War only prompted the princes to reassert their own monarchical authority. The emperor, who had aimed to be the international authority for all of Europe in the 15th century, had now become less than an inter-state arbitrator in Germany. The continued existence of the Empire and the emperor, despite the princes becoming independent sovereigns, was partly due to a lingering sense of national identity for a magni nominis umbra, and partly due to the need for some form of authority to unify diverse principalities and protect the weaker ones from the stronger ones, and everyone from France. However, this authority was merely symbolic in the emperor. The real federal authority lay with the diet, a gathering of sovereign princes represented by their delegates; the emperor's only rights were granting titles and confirming tolls. The Habsburgs, who were emperors in every generation, always followed a dynastic policy instead of an imperial one and were willing to sacrifice the honor of the Empire for the benefit of their house, as seen when they ceded Lorraine to France in exchange for Tuscany (1735).
It needed the cataclysm of the French Revolution finally to overthrow the Empire. Throughout the 18th century it lasted, a thing of long-winded protocols and never-ending lawsuits, “neither Holy, nor Roman, nor an Empire.” End of the Holy Roman Empire. But with Napoleon came its destroyer. As far back as the end of the 13th century, French kings had been scheming to annex the title or at any rate absorb the territories of the Empire: at the beginning of the 19th century the annexation of the title by Napoleon seemed very imminent. Posing as the New Charlemagne (“because, like Charlemagne, I unite the crown of France to that of the Lombards, and my Empire marches with the East”), he resolved in 1806, during the dissolution and recomposition of Germany which followed the peace of Lunéville, to oust Francis II. from his title, and to make the Holy Roman Empire part and parcel of the “Napoleonic idea.” He was anticipated, however, by the prompt action of the proud Habsburg, who was equally resolved that no other should wear the crown which he himself was powerless to defend, and accordingly, on the 6th of August 1806, Francis resigned the imperial dignity. So perished the Empire. Out of its ashes sprang the Austrian Empire, for Francis, in 1804, partly to counter Napoleon’s assumption of the title of Emperor of the French, partly to prepare for the impending dissolution of the old Empire, had assumed the title of “Hereditary Emperor of Austria.” And in yet more recent times the German empire may be regarded, in a still more real sense than Austria, as the descendant and representative of the old Empire of the German nation.
It took the upheaval of the French Revolution to finally bring down the Empire. It lasted throughout the 18th century, filled with lengthy protocols and endless lawsuits, “neither Holy, nor Roman, nor an Empire.” Collapse of the Holy Roman Empire. But with Napoleon came its downfall. As early as the end of the 13th century, French kings had been plotting to seize the title or at least absorb the territories of the Empire: by the start of the 19th century, Napoleon's annexation of the title seemed very likely. Claiming to be the New Charlemagne (“because, like Charlemagne, I unite the crown of France with that of the Lombards, and my Empire advances with the East”), he resolved in 1806, during the breakup and restructuring of Germany that followed the peace of Lunéville, to strip Francis II. of his title and make the Holy Roman Empire a core part of the “Napoleonic idea.” However, he was preempted by the swift actions of the proud Habsburg, who was equally determined that no one else should wear the crown he himself could not defend, and therefore, on August 6, 1806, Francis resigned the imperial dignity. Thus, the Empire met its end. From its ashes rose the Austrian Empire, as Francis, in 1804, partly to counter Napoleon’s claim to be Emperor of the French, and partly to prepare for the impending collapse of the old Empire, took on the title of “Hereditary Emperor of Austria.” In more recent times, the German Empire can be seen, even more genuinely than Austria, as the successor and representative of the ancient Empire of the German nation.
What had been the results of the Holy Roman Empire, in the course of its long history, upon Germany and upon Europe? It has been a vexata quaestio among German historians, whether or no the Empire ruined Germany. Some General influence of the Empire. have argued that it diverted the attention of the German kings from their own country to Italy, and that, by bringing them into conflict with the popes, and by thus strengthening the hands of their rebellious baronage with a papal alliance, it prevented the development of a national German monarchy, such as other sovereigns of western Europe were able to found. Others again have emphasized the racial division of Saxon and Frank, of High German and Low German, as the great cause of the failure of Germany to grow into a united national whole, and have sought to ascribe to the influence of the Empire such unity as was achieved; while they have attributed the learning, the trade, the pre-eminence of medieval Germany to the Italian connexion and the prestige which the Empire brought. It is difficult to pronounce on either side; but one feels that the old localism and individualism which characterized the early German, and had never, on German soil, been combined with and counteracted by a large measure of Roman population and Roman civilization, as they were in Gaul and Spain, would in any case have continued to divide and disturb Germany till late in her history, even if the Empire had never come to reside within her borders. Of the larger question of the influence of the Empire on Europe we can here only say that it worked for good. An Empire which represented, as a Holy Empire, the unity of all the faithful as one body in their secular, no less than in their religious life—an Empire which, again, as a Roman Empire, represented with an unbroken continuity the order of Roman administration and law—such an empire could not but make for the betterment of the world. It was not an empire resting on force, a military empire; it was not, as in modern times empires have sometimes been, an autocracy warranted and stamped by the plébiscite of the mob. It was an empire resting neither on the sword nor on the ballot-box, but on two great ideas, taught by the clergy and received by the laity, that all believers in Christ form one body politic, and that the one model and type for the organization of that body is to be found in the past of Rome. It was indeed the weakness of the Empire that its roots were only the thoughts of men; for the lack of material force, from which it always suffered, hindered it from doing work it might well have done—the work, for instance, of international arbitration. Yet, on the other hand, it was the strength and glory of the Empire that it lived, all through the middle ages, an unconquerable idea of the mind of man. Because it was a being of their thought, it stirred men to reflection: the Empire, particularly in its clash with the Papacy, produced a political consciousness and a political speculation reflected for us in the many libelli de lite imperatorum et pontificum, and in the pages of Dante and Marsilius of Padua. Roman, it perpetuated the greatest monument of Roman thought—that ordered scheme of law, which either became, as in England, the model for the building of a native system, or, as in Germany from the end of the 15th century onwards, was received in its integrity and administered in the courts. Holy, it fortified and consolidated Christian thought, by giving a visible expression to the kingdom of God upon earth; and not only so, but it maintained, however imperfectly, some idea of international obligation, and some conception of a commonwealth of Europe.12
What were the results of the Holy Roman Empire throughout its long history on Germany and Europe? It's been a vexata quaestio among German historians whether the Empire ruined Germany or not. Some Overall impact of the Empire. argue that it shifted the focus of German kings from their own country to Italy, and that by causing conflicts with the popes and by empowering rebellious nobles with papal support, it hindered the establishment of a unified German monarchy like those founded by other rulers in Western Europe. Others have pointed to the ethnic divide between Saxons and Franks, High German and Low German, as the primary reason Germany failed to become a unified nation. They attribute whatever unity was achieved to the influence of the Empire, while attributing Germany's learning, trade, and prominence in the medieval period to its connections with Italy and the prestige of the Empire. It's hard to take a definitive stance; however, it seems that the localism and individualism that characterized early Germany, which never merged significantly with a large Roman population and civilization as seen in Gaul and Spain, would have continued to fragment and disrupt Germany until well into its history, even if the Empire hadn't existed within its borders. Regarding the broader question of the Empire's influence on Europe, it can be stated that it was beneficial. An Empire that represented, as a Holy Empire, the unity of all faithful believers as one body in their secular and religious life—an Empire that, as a Roman Empire, represented an unbroken continuity of Roman administration and law—could only contribute positively to the world. It wasn't an empire based on military power; it wasn’t, like some modern empires, a dictatorship backed by the plebiscite of the masses. It was an empire built not on force or votes but on two great ideas, both taught by the clergy and accepted by the laity: that all believers in Christ form one political body, and that the best model for organizing that body can be found in the legacy of Rome. The Empire's weakness was that its foundation relied solely on the thoughts of people; its lack of material power limited it from accomplishing significant tasks, such as international arbitration. Yet, it was also the Empire's strength and glory that it thrived as an unconquerable idea throughout the Middle Ages. Because it was a creation of human thought, it inspired reflection: the Empire, especially in its conflicts with the Papacy, fostered a political awareness and speculation seen in the numerous libelli de lite imperatorum et pontificum, as well as in the writings of Dante and Marsilius of Padua. Roman in nature, it preserved the most significant monument of Roman thought—the structured system of law, which either became, as in England, a model for developing a native system, or, as in Germany from the late 15th century onward, was fully adopted and implemented in the courts. Holy, it strengthened and consolidated Christian thought by providing a visible representation of God's kingdom on earth; and it also upheld, albeit imperfectly, some idea of international obligation and a vision of a European commonwealth.12
The Holy Roman Empire of western Europe had in its own day a contemporary and a rival—that east Roman empire of which we have already spoken. From Arcadius to John Palaeologus, from A.D. 395 to 1453, the Roman empire was continued at Constantinople—not as a theory and an idea, but as a simple and daily reality of politics and administration. In one sense the East Roman Empire was more lineally and really Roman than the West: it was absolutely continuous from ancient times. In another sense the Western Empire was the most Roman; for its capital—in theory at least—was Rome itself, and the Roman Church stood by its side, while Constantinople was Hellenic and even Oriental. Between the two Empires there was fixed an impassable gulf; and they were divided by deep differences of thought and temper, which appeared most particularly in the sphere of religion, and expressed themselves in the cleavage between the Catholic and the Orthodox Churches. Yet, as when Rome fell, the Catholic Church survived, and ultimately found for itself a new Empire of the West, so, when Constantinople fell, the Orthodox Church continued its life, and found for itself a new Empire of the East—the Empire of Russia. Under Ivan the Great (1462-1505) Moscow became the metropolis of Orthodoxy; Byzantine law influenced his code; and he took for his cognizance the double-headed eagle. Ivan the Terrible, his grandson, finally assumed in 1547 the title of Tsar; and henceforth the Russian emperor is, in theory and very largely in fact, the successor of the old East Roman emperor,13 the head of the Orthodox Church, with the mission of vengeance on Islam for the fall of Constantinople.
The Holy Roman Empire of Western Europe had a rival and contemporary in its time—the East Roman Empire we've already discussed. From Arcadius to John Palaeologus, from CE 395 to 1453, the Roman Empire continued in Constantinople—not just as a theory or idea, but as a practical and everyday reality of politics and administration. In one way, the East Roman Empire was more historically and genuinely Roman than the West: it was completely continuous from ancient times. In another way, the Western Empire was the most Roman, as its capital—at least in theory—was Rome itself, and the Roman Church supported it, while Constantinople was more Hellenic and even Oriental. There was a significant divide between the two Empires, separated by profound differences in thought and character, which were especially evident in the realm of religion, resulting in the split between the Catholic and Orthodox Churches. However, just as the Catholic Church survived the fall of Rome and eventually established a new Empire in the West, when Constantinople fell, the Orthodox Church continued its existence and created a new Empire in the East—the Empire of Russia. Under Ivan the Great (1462-1505), Moscow became the center of Orthodoxy; Byzantine law influenced his legal code; and he adopted the double-headed eagle as his emblem. His grandson, Ivan the Terrible, formally took the title of Tsar in 1547; from then on, the Russian emperor was, in theory and largely in practice, the successor to the old East Roman emperor, the leader of the Orthodox Church, with the mission of seeking vengeance on Islam for the fall of Constantinople.
In the 19th century the word “empire” has had a large and important bearing in politics. In France it has been the apanage of the Bonapartes, and has meant a centralized system of government by an efficient Caesar, resting immediately Modern Empires. on the people, and annihilating the powers of the people’s representatives. Under Napoleon I. this conception had a Carolingian colour: under Napoleon III. there is less of 356 Carolingianism, and more of Caesarism—more of a popular dictatorship. While in modern France Empire has meant autocracy instead of representative government, in Germany it has meant a greater national unity and a federal government in the place of a confederation. The modern German empire is at once like and unlike the old Holy Roman Empire. It is unlike the old medieval Empire; for it has no connexion with the Catholic Church, and no relation to Rome. But it is like the Holy Roman Empire of the 17th and 18th centuries—for it represents a federation, but a more real and more unitary federation, of the several states of Germany. The likeness is perhaps more striking than the dissimilarity; and in virtue of this likeness, and because the memory of the old German Kaiserzeit was a driving force in 1870, we may speak of the modern German empire as the successor of the old Holy Roman Empire, if we remember that we are speaking of that Empire in its last two centuries of existence. The modern “Empire of Austria,” on the other hand, does not connote an empire in the sense of a federation, but is a convenient designation for the sum of the territories ruled by a single sovereign under various titles (king of Bohemia, archduke of Austria, &c.) and unified in a single political system.14 The title of Emperor was assumed, as we have seen, through an historical accident; and, though the Habsburgs of to-day are personally the lineal descendants of the old Holy Roman emperors, they do not in any way possess an empire that represents the old Holy Empire. In England, of recent years, the term “Empire” and the conception of imperialism have become prominent and crucial. To Englishmen to-day, as to Germans before 1870, the term and the conception stand for the greater unity and definitely federal government of a number of separate states. For the German, indeed, Empire has meant, in great measure, the strengthening of a loose federal institution by the addition of a common personal superior: to us it means the turning of a loose union of separate states already under a common personal superior—the King—into a federal commonwealth living under some common federal institutions. But the aim is much the same; it is the integration of a people under a single scheme which shall be consistent with a large measure of political autonomy. We speak of imperial federation; and indeed our modern imperialism is closely allied to federalism. Yet we do well to cling to the term empire rather than federation; for the one term emphasizes the whole and its unity, the other the part and its independence. This imperialism, which is federalism viewed as making for a single whole, is very different from that Bonapartist imperialism, which means autocracy; for its essence is free co-ordination, and the self-government of each co-ordinated part. The British Empire (q.v.) is, in a sense, an aspiration rather than a reality, a thought rather than a fact; but, just for that reason, it is like the old Empire of which we have spoken; and though it be neither Roman nor Holy, yet it has, like its prototype, one law, if not the law of Rome—one faith, if not in matters of religion, at any rate in the field of political and social ideals.
In the 19th century, the term “empire” had a significant impact on politics. In France, it has been associated with the Bonaparte family, representing a centralized government run by an efficient leader, directly accountable to the people while diminishing the power of elected representatives. Under Napoleon I, this idea had a Carolingian aspect; under Napoleon III, it evolved into a form resembling Caesarism—a more popular dictatorship. While in modern France, "Empire" indicates autocracy instead of representative government, in Germany, it signifies increased national unity and a federal system rather than a mere confederation. The modern German empire is both similar to and different from the old Holy Roman Empire. It differs from the medieval Empire because there is no connection to the Catholic Church or to Rome. However, it resembles the Holy Roman Empire of the 17th and 18th centuries as it represents a federation, but a more genuine and unified federation of the various German states. The similarities may be more pronounced than the differences; and due to this resemblance, along with the influence of the old German Kaiserzeit during 1870, we can refer to the modern German empire as a successor to the old Holy Roman Empire, specifically in its last two centuries. Conversely, the modern “Empire of Austria” does not imply a federation but serves as a convenient label for the collective territories governed by a single ruler with various titles (like king of Bohemia, archduke of Austria, etc.) unified under one political system. The title of Emperor was adopted as a result of historical circumstances, and although today’s Habsburgs are direct descendants of the old Holy Roman emperors, they do not possess an empire that represents the former Holy Empire. In England, the concept of “Empire” and imperialism has gained importance in recent years. For contemporary Englishmen, similar to Germans before 1870, this idea represents a greater unity and a clearly defined federal government among several distinct states. For Germans, the Empire has often meant strengthening a loosely connected federal system by adding a common leader, while for us, it indicates transforming a loose union of separate states already under a common sovereign—the King—into a federal commonwealth governed by shared institutions. The goal is largely the same: integrating a population under a unified framework that allows for a considerable degree of political autonomy. We talk about imperial federation; indeed, our modern imperialism is closely related to federalism. Yet, we should prefer the term empire over federation, because the former emphasizes unity and wholeness, while the latter focuses on parts and their independence. This form of imperialism—federalism as a means to achieving a cohesive whole—is very different from Bonapartist imperialism, which implies autocracy; its core lies in free coordination and the self-governance of each coordinated part. The British Empire is, in a way, more of an aspiration than a reality, a concept rather than a fact; but for that reason, it is similar to the old Empire we discussed. Though it is neither Roman nor Holy, it shares with its predecessor a singular law—if not the law of Rome—along with a unifying faith, at least in terms of political and social ideals.
Authorities.—See, in the first place, J. Bryce, Holy Roman Empire (1904 edition); J. von Döllinger, article on “The Empire of Charles the Great” (in Essays on Historical and Literary Subjects, translated by Margaret Warre, 1894); H. Fisher, The Medieval Empire (1898); E. Gibbon, The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, edited by J.B. Bury. It would be impossible to refer to all the books bearing on the article, but one may select (i.) for the period down to 476, Stuart Jones, The Roman Empire (1908), an excellent brief sketch; H. Schiller, Geschichte der römischen Kaiserzeit (1883-1888); O. Seeck, Geschichte des Untergangs der antiken Welt (Band I., Berlin, 1897-1898, Band II., 1901) (a remarkable and stimulating book); and the two excellent articles on “Imperium” and “Princeps” in Smith’s Dictionary of Greek and Roman Antiquities (1890); (ii.) for the period from 476 down to 888, T. Hodgkin, Italy and her Invaders (1880-1900); F. Gregorovius, Geschichte der Stadt Rom im Mittelalter (1886-1894; Eng. trans., London, 1894-1900); E. Lavisse, Histoire de France, II. i. (1901); J.B. Bury, History of the Later Roman Empire (1889); (iii.) for the Holy Roman Empire of the German nation, W. von Giesebrecht, Geschichte der deutschen Kaiserzeit (1881-1890); J. Zeller, Histoire d’Allemagne (1872-1891); R.L. Poole, Illustrations of Medieval Thought (1884); S. Riezler, Die literarischen Widersacher der Päpste zur Zeit Ludwigs des Baiers (1874); J. Jannsen, Geschichte des deutschen Volkes seit dem Ausgang des Mittelalters (1885-1894); L. von Ranke, Deutsche Geschichte im Zeitalter der Reformation (1839-1847), and Zur deutschen Geschichte. Vom Religionsfrieden bis zum dreissigjährigen Krieg (1869); and T. Carlyle, Frederick the Great (1872-1873). On the fall of the Roman Empire and the transition to the modern German Empire see Sir J.R. Seeley, Life and Times of Stein (1878); H. von Treitschke, Deutsche Geschichte (1879-1894); and H. von Sybel, Die Begründung des deutschen Reichs (1890-1894, Eng. trans., The Founding of the Germ. Emp., New York, 1890-1891). For institutional history, see R. Schröder, Lehrbuch der deutschen Rechtsgeschichte (1894). On the influence of the Holy Roman Empire upon the history of Germany, see J. Ficker, Das deutsche Kaiserreich (1861), and Deutsches Königtum und Kaisertum (1862); and H. von Sybel, Die deutsche Nation und das Kaiserreich (1861).
Authorities.—See, first of all, J. Bryce, Holy Roman Empire (1904 edition); J. von Döllinger, article on “The Empire of Charles the Great” (in Essays on Historical and Literary Subjects, translated by Margaret Warre, 1894); H. Fisher, The Medieval Empire (1898); E. Gibbon, The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, edited by J.B. Bury. It would be impossible to mention all the books related to the article, but we can highlight the following: (i.) for the period up to 476, Stuart Jones, The Roman Empire (1908), a great brief overview; H. Schiller, Geschichte der römischen Kaiserzeit (1883-1888); O. Seeck, Geschichte des Untergangs der antiken Welt (Volume I, Berlin, 1897-1898, Volume II, 1901) (a remarkable and thought-provoking book); and the two excellent articles on “Imperium” and “Princeps” in Smith’s Dictionary of Greek and Roman Antiquities (1890); (ii.) for the period from 476 to 888, T. Hodgkin, Italy and her Invaders (1880-1900); F. Gregorovius, Geschichte der Stadt Rom im Mittelalter (1886-1894; English translation, London, 1894-1900); E. Lavisse, Histoire de France, II. i. (1901); J.B. Bury, History of the Later Roman Empire (1889); (iii.) for the Holy Roman Empire of the German nation, W. von Giesebrecht, Geschichte der deutschen Kaiserzeit (1881-1890); J. Zeller, Histoire d’Allemagne (1872-1891); R.L. Poole, Illustrations of Medieval Thought (1884); S. Riezler, Die literarischen Widersacher der Päpste zur Zeit Ludwigs des Baiers (1874); J. Jannsen, Geschichte des deutschen Volkes seit dem Ausgang des Mittelalters (1885-1894); L. von Ranke, Deutsche Geschichte im Zeitalter der Reformation (1839-1847), and Zur deutschen Geschichte. Vom Religionsfrieden bis zum dreissigjährigen Krieg (1869); and T. Carlyle, Frederick the Great (1872-1873). On the fall of the Roman Empire and the transition to the modern German Empire, see Sir J.R. Seeley, Life and Times of Stein (1878); H. von Treitschke, Deutsche Geschichte (1879-1894); and H. von Sybel, Die Begründung des deutschen Reichs (1890-1894, English translation, The Founding of the Germ. Emp., New York, 1890-1891). For institutional history, see R. Schröder, Lehrbuch der deutschen Rechtsgeschichte (1894). On the influence of the Holy Roman Empire on the history of Germany, see J. Ficker, Das deutsche Kaiserreich (1861), and Deutsches Königtum und Kaisertum (1862); and H. von Sybel, Die deutsche Nation und das Kaiserreich (1861).
1 Bryce points out, with much subtlety and truth, that the rise of a second Rome in the East not only helped to perpetuate the Empire by providing a new centre which would take the place of Rome when Rome fell, but also tended to make it more universal; “for, having lost its local centre, it subsisted no longer by historic right only, but, so to speak, naturally, as a part of an order of things which a change in external conditions seemed incapable of disturbing” (Holy Roman Empire, p. 8 of the edition of 1904).
1 Bryce points out, with great subtlety and honesty, that the emergence of a second Rome in the East not only helped sustain the Empire by providing a new center that would replace Rome when it fell, but also made it more universal; “for, having lost its local center, it existed no longer by historical right alone, but, so to speak, naturally, as part of a system that external changes seemed incapable of disrupting” (Holy Roman Empire, p. 8 of the 1904 edition).
2 The de facto importance of the event of 476 can only be seen in the light of later events, and it was not therefore noticed by contemporaries. Marcellinus is the only contemporary who remarks on its importance, cf. Marcellini Chronicon (Mon. Germ. Hist., Chronica minora. ii. 91), Hesperium Romanae gentis imperium ... cum hoc Augustulo periit ... Gothorum dehinc regibus Romam tenentibus.
2 The de facto significance of the event in 476 can only be understood in light of events that came afterward, so it wasn't recognized by people at the time. Marcellinus is the only contemporary who notes its importance, see Marcellini Chronicon (Mon. Germ. Hist., Chronica minora. ii. 91), Hesperium Romanae gentis imperium ... cum hoc Augustulo periit ... Gothorum dehinc regibus Romam tenentibus.
3 A passage in Malchus, a Byzantine historian (quoted by Bryce, Holy Roman Empire, p. 25, note u, in the edition of 1904), expresses this truth exactly. The envoys sent to Zeno by Odoacer urge ὡς ἰδίας μὲν αὐτοῖς βασιλείας οὐ δέοι κοινὸς δὲ ἀποχρήσει μόνος ὤν αὐτοκράτωρ ἐπ᾽ ἀμφοτέροις τοῖς πέρασι. The envoys then suggest the name of Odoacer, as one able to manage their affairs, and ask Zeno to give him, as an officer of the Empire, the title of Patricius and the administration of Italy.
3 A passage in Malchus, a Byzantine historian (quoted by Bryce, Holy Roman Empire, p. 25, note u, in the 1904 edition), conveys this truth perfectly. The envoys sent to Zeno by Odoacer emphasize that they don't want a shared ruler, as each has their own kingdom and they prefer to have one emperor governing both sides. The envoys then propose Odoacer's name, as someone capable of handling their interests, and request Zeno to grant him, as an officer of the Empire, the title of Patricius and the governance of Italy.
4 According to the view here followed, the Church was the ark in which the conception of Empire was saved during the dark ages between 600 and 800. Some influence should perhaps also be assigned to Roman law, which continued to be administered during these centuries, especially in the towns, and maintained the imperial tradition. But the influence of the Church is the essential fact.
4 According to this perspective, the Church was the vessel that preserved the idea of Empire during the dark ages from 600 to 800. Some credit might also be given to Roman law, which was still enforced during these centuries, especially in urban areas, and upheld the imperial tradition. However, the Church's influence is the key point.
5 In the 5th century the title patricius came to attach particularly to the head of the Roman army (magister utriusque militiae) to men like Aetius and Ricimer, who made and unmade emperors (cf. Mommsen, Gesammelte Schriften, iv. 537, 545 sqq.). Later it had been borne by the Greek exarchs of Ravenna. The concession to Pippin of this great title makes him military head of the Western empire, in the sense in which the title was used in the 5th century; it makes him representative of the Empire for Italy, in the sense in which it had been used of the exarchs.
5 In the 5th century, the title patricius became associated mainly with the leader of the Roman army (magister utriusque militiae), referring to figures like Aetius and Ricimer, who played a key role in elevating and dethroning emperors (cf. Mommsen, Gesammelte Schriften, iv. 537, 545 sqq.). Later, it was also used by the Greek exarchs of Ravenna. Granting this significant title to Pippin positions him as the military leader of the Western empire, similar to how it was applied in the 5th century; it also establishes him as the representative of the Empire in Italy, akin to its usage with the exarchs.
6 See the famous bull Venerabilem (Corp. Jur. Canon. Decr. Greg. i. 6, c. 34).
6 Check out the famous bull Venerabilem (Corp. Jur. Canon. Decr. Greg. i. 6, c. 34).
7 Even on this view, an imperial coronation at the hands of the pope was necessary to complete the title; but this was regarded by the Germans (though not by the pope) as a form which necessarily followed.
7 Even with this perspective, an imperial coronation by the pope was essential to finalize the title; however, the Germans considered this as a procedure that had to happen, while the pope did not share this view.
8 It is a curious fact that imperial titles (imperator and basileus) are used in the Anglo-Saxon diplomata of the 10th century. Edred, for instance (946-955) is “imperator,” “cyning and casere totius Britanniae,” “basileus Anglorum hujusque insulae barbarorum”: Edgar is “totius Albionis imperator Augustus” (cf. Stubbs, Const. Hist. i. c. vii. § 71). These titles partly show the turgidity of English Latinity in the 10th century, partly indicate the quasi-imperial position held by the Wessex kings after the reconquest of the Dane-law. But there seems to be no real ground for Freeman’s view (Norman Conquest, i. 548 sqq.), that England was regarded as a third Empire, side by side with the other Empires of West and East Europe. That the titles were assumed in order to repudiate possible claims of the Western Empire to the overlordship of England is disproved by the fact that they are assumed at a time when there is no Western emperor. The assumption of an imperial style by Henry VIII., which is mentioned below, is explained by the Reformation, and does not mean any recurrence to a forgotten Anglo-Saxon style.
8 It's interesting that imperial titles (imperator and basileus) are found in the Anglo-Saxon documents from the 10th century. For example, Edred (946-955) is called “imperator,” “king and emperor of all Britain,” and “basileus of the English and of this island of barbarians”: Edgar is referred to as “emperor Augustus of all Albion” (see Stubbs, Const. Hist. i. c. vii. § 71). These titles highlight the inflated Latin style of English in the 10th century and reflect the nearly-imperial status of the Wessex kings after reclaiming the Danelaw. However, Freeman’s argument (Norman Conquest, i. 548 sqq.) that England was seen as a third Empire alongside the other Empires in Western and Eastern Europe doesn’t have much support. The use of these titles to reject any potential claims from the Western Empire over England is contradicted by the fact that they were adopted at a time when there was no Western emperor. The adoption of an imperial title by Henry VIII, mentioned below, is linked to the Reformation and doesn’t signify a return to a forgotten Anglo-Saxon style.
9 It is in virtue of this aspect that the Empire is holy. The term sacrum imperium seems to have been first used about the time of Frederick I., when the emperors were anxious to magnify the sanctity of their office in answer to papal opposition. The emperor himself (see under Emperor) was always regarded, and at his coronation treated, as a persona ecclesiastica.
9 This is why the Empire is considered holy. The term sacrum imperium appears to have been first used around the time of Frederick I, when the emperors wanted to emphasize the sacredness of their position in response to challenges from the papacy. The emperor himself (see under Emperor) was always viewed, and treated during his coronation, as a persona ecclesiastica.
10 The emperor claimed suzerainty over the greater part of Europe at various dates. Hungary and Poland, France and Spain, the Scandinavian peninsula, the British Isles, were all claimed for the Empire at different times (see Bryce, Holy Roman Empire, c. xii.). The “effective” empire, if indeed it may be called effective, embraced only Germany, Burgundy and the regnum Italiae (the old Lombard kingdom in the valley of the Po).
10 The emperor asserted control over most of Europe at different times. Hungary and Poland, France and Spain, the Scandinavian Peninsula, and the British Isles were all claimed for the Empire at various points (see Bryce, Holy Roman Empire, c. xii.). The "effective" empire, if it can even be considered effective, included only Germany, Burgundy, and the regnum Italiae (the former Lombard kingdom in the Po Valley).
11 Cf. the Act 25 Henry VIII. c. 22, § 1: “the lawful kings and emperors of this realm.”
11 See the Act 25 Henry VIII. c. 22, § 1: “the lawful kings and emperors of this realm.”
12 The Papacy, consistent to the last, formally protested at the Congress of Vienna in 1815 against the failure of the Powers to restore the Holy Roman Empire, the “centre of political unity” (Ed.).
12 The Papacy, staying true to its stance, officially expressed its objections at the Congress of Vienna in 1815 regarding the Powers' inability to restore the Holy Roman Empire, seen as the “center of political unity” (Ed.).
13 The Turks, occupying Constantinople, have also claimed to be the heirs of the old emperors of Constantinople; and their sultans have styled themselves Keisar-i-Rûm.
13 The Turks, who have taken over Constantinople, also assert that they are the successors of the ancient emperors of Constantinople; and their sultans have referred to themselves as Keisar-i-Rûm.
14 This does not, of course, apply to Hungary, which since 1867 has not formed part of the Austrian empire and is ruled by the head of the house of Habsburg not as emperor, but as king of Hungary.
14 This doesn’t, of course, apply to Hungary, which since 1867 has not been part of the Austrian empire and is ruled by the head of the Habsburg house not as emperor, but as king of Hungary.
EMPIRICISM (from Gr. ἔμπειρος, skilled in, from πεἶρα, experiment), in philosophy, the theory that all knowledge is derived from sense-given data. It is opposed to all forms of intuitionalism, and holds that the mind is originally an absolute blank (tabula rasa), on which, as it were, sense-given impressions are mechanically recorded, without any action on the part of the mind. The process by which the mind is thus stored consists of an infinity of individual impressions. The frequent or invariable recurrence of similar series of events gives birth in the mind to what are wrongly called “laws”; in fact, these “laws” are merely statements of experience gathered together by association, and have no other kind of validity. In other words from the empirical standpoint the statement of such a “law” does not contain the word “must”; it merely asserts that such and such series have been invariably observed. In this theory there can strictly be no “causation”; one thing is observed to succeed another, but observations cannot assert that it is “caused” by that thing; it is post hoc, but not propter hoc. The idea of necessary connexion is a purely mental idea, an a priori conception, in which observation of empirical data takes no part; empiricism in ethics likewise does away with the idea of the absolute authority of the moral law as conceived by the intuitionalists. The moral law is merely a collection of rules of conduct based on an infinite number of special cases in which the convenience of society or its rulers has subordinated the inclination of individuals. The fundamental objection to empiricism is that it fails to give an accurate explanation of experience; individual impressions as such are momentary, and their connexion into a body of coherent knowledge presupposes mental action distinct from mere receptivity. Empiricism was characteristic of all early speculation in Greece. During the middle ages the empiric spirit was in abeyance, but it revived from the time of Francis Bacon and was systematized especially in the English philosophers, Locke, Hume, the two Mills, Bentham and the associationist school generally.
EMPIRICISM (from Gr. experienced, skilled in, from πεἶρα, experiment), in philosophy, is the idea that all knowledge comes from sensory experience. It contrasts with intuitionalism and suggests that the mind starts as a complete blank (tabula rasa), on which sensory impressions are recorded without any effort from the mind. The way the mind gathers these impressions consists of countless individual experiences. The regular or consistent occurrence of similar events leads the mind to form what are mistakenly referred to as “laws”; in reality, these “laws” are just summaries of experiences linked together by association, lacking any other basis of validity. In simpler terms, from an empirical perspective, a statement of such a “law” doesn’t imply a necessary outcome; it just states that certain sequences have been consistently observed. In this view, there can be no strict “causation”; one event is seen following another, but observations can't claim that one “causes” the other; it is post hoc but not propter hoc. The concept of necessary connection is entirely a mental concept, forming an a priori notion that does not involve observing empirical data. Empiricism in ethics similarly dismisses the idea of a universal moral law as understood by intuitionalists. Instead, the moral law is simply a collection of behavioral guidelines based on countless specific situations where societal or governmental convenience has overridden individual desires. The main criticism of empiricism is that it doesn't accurately explain experience; individual impressions are fleeting, and their connection into coherent knowledge assumes mental actions separate from simple reception. Empiricism characterized all early thinking in Greece. During the Middle Ages, the empirical spirit faded but reemerged with Francis Bacon and was further systematized by English thinkers like Locke, Hume, the two Mills, Bentham, and the associationist school in general.
See Association of Ideas; Metaphysics; Psychology; Logic; besides the biographies of the empirical philosophers.
See Association of Ideas; Metaphysics; Psychology; Logic; along with the biographies of the empirical philosophers.
In medicine, the term is applied to a school of physicians who, in the time of Celsus and Galen, advocated accurate observation of the phenomena of health and disease in the belief that only by the collection of a vast mass of instances would a true science of medicine be attained. This point of view was carried to extremes by those who discarded all real study, and based their treatment on rules of thumb. Hence the modern sense of empirical as applied to the guess work of an untrained quack or charlatan.
In medicine, the term refers to a group of doctors who, during the time of Celsus and Galen, promoted careful observation of health and disease. They believed that only by gathering a large amount of examples could a genuine science of medicine be achieved. This perspective was taken to extremes by those who abandoned real study and focused their treatments on trial-and-error methods. This is why the modern meaning of empirical is often associated with the guessing tactics of an untrained quack or fraud.
EMPLOYERS’ LIABILITY, and WORKMEN’S COMPENSATION.1 The law of England as to the liability of employers in respect of personal injuries to their servants is regulated partly by the common law and partly by statute; but by the Employers’ Liability Act 1880, such exceptions have been grafted upon the common law, and by the Workmen’s Compensation Act 1906, principles so alien to the common law have been applied to most employments that it is impossible now to present any view of this branch of the law as a logical whole. All that can be done is to state the nature of the liability at common law. 357 the extension of it effected by the Employers’ Liability Act 1880, and the new liabilities introduced by later acts.
EMPLOYERS’ LIABILITY, and WORKMEN’S COMPENSATION.1 In England, the laws regarding employers' responsibility for personal injuries to their employees are governed partly by common law and partly by legislation. The Employers’ Liability Act 1880 introduced exceptions to common law, while the Workmen’s Compensation Act 1906 applied principles that differ significantly from common law to most jobs, making it difficult to view this area of law as a cohesive whole. Instead, we can only outline the basic nature of the liability under common law, the extensions made by the Employers’ Liability Act 1880, and the new liabilities established by subsequent acts. 357
At common law the liability of a master is of a very limited character. There is, of course, nothing to prevent a master and servant from providing by special contract in any way they please for their mutual rights in cases of Common law. personal injury to the servant. In such cases the liability will depend upon the terms of the special contract. But apart from any special agreement, it may be broadly stated that a master is liable to his servants only for injuries caused by his own negligence. Injuries to a servant may arise from accident, from the nature of the service, or from negligence; and this negligence may be of the master, of another servant of the master, or of a stranger. If the injury is purely accidental the loss lies where it falls. If it arises from the nature of the service, the servant must bear it himself; he has undertaken a service to which certain risks are necessarily incident; if he is injured thereby, it is the fortune of war, and no one can be made responsible. If the injury is caused by the negligence of a stranger, the servant has his ordinary remedy against the wrong-doer or any one who is responsible as a principal for the conduct of the wrong-doer. If it is caused by the negligence of a fellow-servant, he likewise has his ordinary remedy against the actual wrong-doer; but, by virtue of what is known as the doctrine of common employment, he cannot at common law make the master liable as a principal. The only case (independently of modern legislation: see below) in which he can recover damages from the master is where the injury has been caused by negligence of the master himself. A master is negligent if he fails to exercise that skill and care which, in the circumstances of the particular employment, are used by employers of ordinary skill and carefulness. If he himself takes part in the work, he must act with such skill and care as may reasonably be demanded of one who takes upon himself to do work of that kind. If he entrusts the work to other servants, he must be careful in their selection, and must not negligently employ persons who are incompetent. He must take proper care so to arrange the system of work that his servants are not exposed to unnecessary danger. If tools or machinery are used, he must take proper care to provide such as are fit and proper for the work, and must either himself see that they are maintained in a fit condition or employ competent servants to do so for him. If he is bound by statute to take precautions for the safety of his servants, he must himself see that that obligation is discharged. For breach of any of these duties a master is liable to his servant who is injured thereby, but his liability extends no further.
At common law, a master's liability is quite limited. However, a master and servant can create a special contract to outline their rights in cases of personal injury to the servant. In such situations, liability will depend on the terms of that special contract. But, without a special agreement, it can generally be said that a master is only liable to his servants for injuries caused by his own negligence. Injuries to a servant may happen due to accidents, the nature of the job, or negligence. This negligence could come from the master, another servant, or a stranger. If the injury is purely accidental, the loss stays where it happens. If it results from the nature of the job, the servant must deal with it himself; he has accepted a job that comes with certain risks, and if he gets hurt, it's just unfortunate, and no one can be held accountable. If the injury is due to the negligence of a stranger, the servant can seek legal recourse against the person responsible. If it's caused by the negligence of a fellow servant, he has the same opportunity to seek compensation from the actual wrongdoer; however, according to the doctrine of common employment, he cannot hold the master liable at common law. The only situation (aside from modern laws: see below) where he can sue the master for damages is if the master himself was negligent. A master is negligent if he fails to use the skill and care that an average employer of ordinary competency would use in that kind of work. If he participates in the work, he must act with the level of skill and care that should be expected from someone doing that type of job. If he assigns the work to other servants, he must carefully choose them and must not employ anyone incompetent. He must ensure that the work system is set up in a way that protects his servants from unnecessary danger. If tools or machinery are involved, he must make sure they are suitable for the job and either maintain them in proper condition himself or hire capable servants to do so. If a statute requires him to take safety precautions for his servants, he must ensure that obligation is met. For failing any of these duties, a master is liable to any injured servant, but his liability does not extend beyond that.
That his obligations to a servant are so much less than to a stranger is chiefly due to the doctrine of common employment. As a rule a master is responsible for the negligence of his servant acting in the course of his employment; Common employment. but, from about the middle of the 19th century, it became firmly rooted in the law that this principle did not apply where the person injured was himself a servant of the master and engaged in a common employment with the servant guilty of the negligence. In effect this rule protects a master as against his servant from the consequences of negligence on the part of any other of his servants; to this there is no qualification except that, for the rule to apply, both the injured and the negligent servant must be acting in pursuance of a common employment. They must both be working for a common object though not necessarily upon the same work.
That a master’s responsibilities to a servant are much less than to a stranger primarily comes from the concept of common employment. Generally, a master is liable for the negligence of his servant while they are working; Typical job. however, since around the middle of the 19th century, it has been firmly established in law that this principle doesn’t apply when the injured person is also a servant of the master and is engaged in common employment with the servant who was negligent. Essentially, this rule protects a master from the repercussions of negligence by any other servants in relation to his own servant; the only requirement for this rule to be applicable is that both the injured servant and the one who was negligent must be engaged in a common employment. They need to be working towards a shared goal, although not necessarily on the same task.
It is not easy to define precisely what constitutes a common employment in this sense, and there is peculiarly little judicial authority as to the limit at which work for the same employer ceases to be work in a common employment. It does not depend on difference in grade; all engaged in one business, from the manager to the apprentice, are within the rule. It does not depend on difference in work, if the work each is doing is part of one larger operation; all the servants of a railway company, whether employed on the trains, or at the stations, or on the line, are in a common employment. It does not necessarily depend on difference of locality; a servant who packs goods at the factory and a servant who unpacks them in the shop may well be in a common employment. On the other hand, it is not enough that the two servants are working for the same employer, if there is nothing in common between them except that they are making money for the same man; apart from special circumstances, the crews of two ships owned by the same company are probably not in common employment while navigating their respective ships. The test in each case must be derived from the view, invented by the courts, upon which the doctrine was based, namely, that the servant by entering upon the service consented to run all the risks incidental to it, including the risk of negligence on the part of fellow-servants; if the relation between the two servants is such that the safety of the one may, in the ordinary course of things, be affected by the negligence of the other, that negligence must be taken to be one of the risks of the employment assented to by the servant, and both are engaged in a common employment. In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred it will be found that the doctrine is applicable, and the master protected from liability. It is thus seen that, in general, no action will lie against a master at the suit of his servant, unless the servant can prove personal negligence on the part of the master causing injury to the servant. And in such action the master may avail himself of those defences which he has against a stranger. He may rely upon contributory negligence, and show that the servant was himself negligent, and that, notwithstanding the negligence of the master, the injury was proximately caused by the negligence of the servant. Or (except in cases where the injury results from a breach of a statutory duty) he may prove such facts as establish the defence expressed in the maxim, volenti non fit injuria; that is, he may prove that the injured servant knew and appreciated the particular risk he was running, and incurred it voluntarily with full understanding of its nature. Mere knowledge on the part of the servant, or even his continuing to work with knowledge, does not necessarily establish this defence; it must be knowledge of such a kind and in such circumstances that it can be inferred that the servant contracted to take the risk upon himself. The action at common law is subject to the general rule that personal actions die with the person; except so far as the remedy for money loss caused by death by negligence has been preserved in favour of a husband or wife and certain near relatives, under Lord Campbell’s Act (Fatal Accidents Act 1846).
It’s not easy to clearly define what common employment means in this context, and surprisingly, there’s very little legal guidance on where the line is drawn for when work for the same employer stops being considered common employment. This doesn’t depend on differences in job titles; everyone involved in the same business, from the manager to the apprentice, falls under this rule. It also doesn't depend on the type of work being done if that work is part of a larger operation; all employees of a railway company, whether they're working on trains, at stations, or on the tracks, are considered to be in common employment. It’s not necessarily determined by location either; a worker packing goods at the factory and another unpacking them in the store could very well be in common employment. However, it’s not enough that two employees work for the same employer if their only connection is that they’re both earning money for the same person; unless there are special circumstances, the crews of two ships owned by the same company are likely not in common employment while operating their respective vessels. The criteria in each situation must come from the perspective established by the courts that the doctrine is based on: a worker, by accepting a job, agrees to accept all the risks that come with it, including the risk of negligence from fellow workers. If the relationship between the two workers is such that one’s safety can, in normal circumstances, be impacted by the negligence of the other, that negligence is considered one of the risks of the job that the employee agreed to, and both are then involved in common employment. In almost every case, it will turn out that this doctrine applies, protecting the employer from liability. Generally, this means that a worker cannot sue their employer unless they can prove personal negligence on the part of the employer that caused the worker's injury. In such a case, the employer can also use defenses they have against someone who isn’t an employee. They might argue contributory negligence, showing that the worker was careless themselves and that, despite the employer's negligence, the injury resulted mainly from the worker's actions. Or (except in cases where the injury comes from breaking a legal duty) the employer can present evidence supporting the defense of volenti non fit injuria; meaning they can show that the injured worker was aware of and understood the specific risks they were taking and chose to accept those risks voluntarily. Simple awareness on the worker’s part, or even continuing to work despite that awareness, doesn't automatically establish this defense; it must be awareness of a kind and under circumstances that demonstrate the worker agreed to take on that risk. The action in common law is subject to the general rule that personal actions don’t survive after a person dies; except for situations where the remedy for financial losses due to fatal negligence has been preserved for spouses and certain close relatives under Lord Campbell’s Act (Fatal Accidents Act 1846).
Such was the law up to 1880. So long as industry was conducted on a small scale, and the master worked with his men, or was himself the manager, its hardship was perhaps little felt; his personal negligence could in many cases The act of 1880. be established. But with the development of the factory system, and the ever-growing expansion of the scale on which all industries were conducted, it became increasingly difficult to bring home individual responsibility to the employer. As industry passed largely into the control of corporations, difficulty became almost impossibility. The employer was not liable to a servant for the negligence of a fellow-servant, and therefore, in most cases of injury, was not liable at all. It is not surprising that the condition of things thus brought about, partly by the growth of modern industry and partly by the decisions of the courts, caused grave dissatisfaction. The justice of the doctrine of common employment was vigorously called in question. In the result the Employers’ Liability Act 1880 was passed. The effect of this act is to destroy the defence of common employment in certain specified cases. It does not abolish the doctrine altogether, nor, on the other hand, does it impose upon the master any new standard of duty which does not exist as regards strangers. All that it does is to place the servant, in certain cases, in the position of a stranger, making the master liable for the negligence of his servants notwithstanding the fact that they are in common employment with the servant injured. It is still necessary under the act, as at common law, to prove negligence, and the master may still rely upon the defences of contributory negligence and volenti non fit injuria. But under the act he cannot, as against the workmen who come within it and in the cases to which it applies, set up the defence that the negligence complained of was the negligence of a servant in a common employment. The act does not apply to all servants. It does not apply to domestic or menial servants, or to seamen, or to any except railway servants and “any person who, being a labourer, servant in husbandry, journeyman, artificer, handicraftsman, miner, or otherwise engaged in manual labour ... has entered into or works under a contract with an employer, whether the contract be oral or in writing, and be a contract of service or a contract personally to execute any work or labour.” Whether a servant, not being one of those specially named, is within the act depends on whether manual labour is the real and substantial employment, or whether it is merely 358 incidental thereto; thus a carman who handles the goods he carries may be within the act, but a tramcar driver or an omnibus conductor is not. The act does not make the master liable for the negligence of all his servants, but, speaking generally, only for the negligent discharge of their duties by such as are entrusted with the supervision of machinery and plant, or with superintendence, or the power of giving orders, with the addition, in the case of a railway, of the negligence of those who are given the charge or control of signals, points, locomotive engines or trains. The cases dealt with by the act are five in number; in the first and fourth the words are wide enough to include negligence of the employer himself, for which, as has been seen, he is liable at common law. In such instances the workman has an alternative remedy either at common law or under the act, but in all other respects the rights given by the act are new, being limitations upon the defence of common employment, and can be enforced only under the act.
The law was like this until 1880. As long as businesses were small, and the owner was actively involved with their workers or managing them, the hardships were probably not felt as much; their personal negligence could often be proven. But with the rise of the factory system and the increasing scale of industrial operations, it became much harder to hold employers individually accountable. As industries shifted largely to corporate control, this difficulty turned into near impossibility. An employer wasn't responsible for a worker's injury caused by a fellow worker’s negligence, which meant, in most injury cases, they weren't liable at all. It's no surprise that this situation, caused partly by modern industry's growth and partly by court rulings, led to significant dissatisfaction. The fairness of the doctrine of common employment was strongly challenged. As a result, the Employers’ Liability Act of 1880 was enacted. This act eliminates the common employment defense in certain specified situations. It doesn't do away with the doctrine entirely, nor does it impose a new duty standard on employers that doesn’t already exist concerning outsiders. What it does is put workers, in certain cases, in the position of a non-worker, making employers liable for their employees' negligence, even when those employees are working together. It’s still necessary under the act, as it was at common law, to prove negligence, and employers can still use the defenses of contributory negligence and volenti non fit injuria. However, under the act, they cannot argue against workers who fall under its provisions by claiming the negligence was just a fellow worker’s fault in a shared role. The act doesn't apply to all workers. It specifically excludes domestic or menial workers, seamen, and any except railway workers and “any person who, being a laborer, servant in farming, journeyman, tradesperson, craftsman, miner, or otherwise involved in manual labor ... has entered into or works under a contract with an employer, whether the contract is oral or written, and is a contract of service or a contract to perform any work or labor.” Whether a worker, who isn't one of those specifically mentioned, is covered by the act depends on if manual labor is their main job, or just a side part of it; for example, a truck driver who handles the goods they transport might be covered, but a streetcar driver or bus conductor would not. The act does not make employers liable for all their workers' negligence but generally only for negligent actions in carrying out their duties by those who supervise machinery and operations, or have the authority to give orders, with additional coverage in the case of railways for the negligence of those in charge of signals, points, locomotives, or trains. The act addresses five specific cases; in the first and fourth cases, the language is broad enough to include the employer's own negligence, for which, as previously stated, they are liable under common law. In these situations, the worker has the option of seeking remedy either under common law or the act, but in all other respects, the rights granted by the act are new rights, limiting the common employment defense, and they can only be enforced through the act.
The first case is where the injury is caused by reason of any defect in the condition of the ways, works, machinery or plant connected with or used in the business of the employer, provided that such defect arises from, or has not been discovered or remedied owing to the negligence of the employer, or of some person in the service of the employer and entrusted by him with the duty of seeing that the ways, works, machinery or plant are in proper condition. The second case is where the injury is caused by reason of the negligence of any person in the service of the employer who has any superintendence entrusted to him (that is, a person whose sole or principal duty is that of superintendence, and who is not ordinarily engaged in manual labour) whilst in the exercise of such superintendence. The third case is where the injury is caused by reason of the negligence of any person in the service of the employer to whose orders or directions the workman at the time of the injury is bound to conform and does conform, where such injury results from his so conforming. The fourth case is where the injury is caused by reason of the act or omission of any person in the service of the employer done or made in obedience to the rules or by-laws of the employer, or in obedience to particular instructions given by any person delegated with the authority of the employer in that behalf, provided that the injury results from some impropriety or defect in such rules, by-laws or instructions. The fifth case is where the injury is caused by reason of the negligence of any person in the service of the employer who has the charge or control of any signal, points, locomotive engine or train upon a railway.
The first case is when the injury is caused by a defect in the condition of the ways, works, machinery, or equipment related to or used in the employer's business, as long as that defect comes from the employer's negligence or from someone in the employer's service who was supposed to ensure that the ways, works, machinery, or equipment are in good condition but failed to do so. The second case is when the injury is caused by the negligence of anyone in the employer's service who has been given any supervisory responsibilities (meaning someone whose primary duty is supervision and who doesn’t usually engage in manual labor) while performing those supervisory duties. The third case is when the injury is caused by the negligence of someone in the employer's service whose orders or directions the worker is obligated to follow, and the worker does follow them, where the injury results from that compliance. The fourth case is when the injury is caused by the actions or omissions of someone in the employer's service done in accordance with the employer's rules or regulations, or following specific instructions given by someone authorized by the employer, as long as the injury results from a flaw or issue in those rules, regulations, or instructions. The fifth case is when the injury is caused by the negligence of someone in the employer's service who is responsible for any signals, switches, locomotive engines, or trains on a railway.
In all these cases it is provided that the employer shall not be liable if it can be shown that the workman knew of the defect or negligence which caused his injury, and failed within a reasonable time to give, or cause to be given, information thereof to the employer or some person superior to himself in the service of the employer, unless he was aware that the employer or such superior already knew of the said defect or negligence. It was inevitable that these provisions should call for judicial interpretation, and a considerable body of authority has grown up about the act. Where general words are used, it must always occur that, between the cases which are obviously within and those which are obviously without the words, there are many on the border line. Thus, under the act, the courts have been called upon to determine the precise meaning of “way,” “works,” “machinery,” “plant,” and to say what is precisely meant by a “defect” in the condition of each of them. They have had to say what is included in “railway” and in “train,” what is meant by having “charge” or “control,” and to what extent one whose principal duty is superintendence may participate in manual labour without losing his character of superintendent, and what is the precise meaning of negligence in superintendence. These are only illustrations of many points of detail which, having called for judicial interpretation, will be found fully dealt with in the text-books on the subject. A workman who, being within the act, is injured by such negligence of a fellow-servant as is included in one or other of the five cases mentioned above, has against his employer the remedies which the act gives him. These are not necessarily the same as those which a stranger would have in the like circumstances; the amount of compensation is not left at large for a jury to determine, but is limited to an amount not exceeding such sum as may be found to be equivalent to the estimated earnings, during the three years preceding the injury, of a person in the same grade employed during those years in the like employment and in the district in which the workman is employed at the time of the injury. Moreover, the right to recover is hedged about with technicalities which are unknown at the common law; proceedings must be taken in the county court, within a strictly limited time, and are maintainable only if certain elaborate provisions as to notice of injury have been complied with. Where the injury causes death the action is maintainable for the benefit of the like persons as are entitled under Lord Campbell’s act in an action at common law.
In all these situations, it's stated that the employer won't be held responsible if it can be proven that the worker was aware of the defect or negligence that caused his injury and failed to inform the employer or someone higher up in the company within a reasonable time, unless he knew that the employer or that superior already knew about the defect or negligence. It was inevitable that these rules would need judicial interpretation, and a significant body of case law has developed around the act. When general terms are used, there will always be cases that fall on the borderline between those clearly included and those clearly excluded by the terms. Therefore, under the act, courts have had to determine the exact meaning of "way," "works," "machinery," "plant," and to clarify what a "defect" means in each of these contexts. They've also needed to define what's included in "railway" and "train," what it means to have "charge" or "control," and how far someone primarily supervising can engage in manual labor without losing their status as a supervisor, along with the precise definition of negligence in supervision. These are just examples of many detailed issues that require judicial interpretation, which are thoroughly addressed in related texts. A worker who is covered by the act and is injured due to a fellow worker's negligence mentioned in one of the five cases above has the remedies provided by the act against his employer. These remedies aren't necessarily the same as what a stranger would receive in similar circumstances; the compensation amount isn’t left for a jury to decide but is capped at a sum not exceeding what would be estimated earnings for someone in the same role working in similar conditions in the same area during the three years prior to the injury. Furthermore, the right to compensation is surrounded by technical details that are not present in common law; claims must be filed in the county court within a strictly limited time and can only proceed if specific detailed notice requirements about the injury have been met. If the injury results in death, the action can be pursued for the benefit of the same individuals entitled to compensation under Lord Campbell’s act in a common law action.
The law continued in this condition up to 1897. In the majority of cases of injury to a servant, the doctrine of common employment still protected the master; and where, under the Employers’ Liability Act, it failed to do so, the liability was of a limited character and often, owing to technicalities of procedure, difficult to enforce. Moreover, there is nothing in the act to prevent master and servant from entering into any special contract they please; and in many trades it became a common practice for contracts to be made wholly excluding the operation of the act. In 1893 an attempt was made to alter the law by a total abolition of the defence of common employment, so as to make a master as liable to a servant as to a stranger for the negligence of any of his servants acting in the course of their employment, and at the same time to prohibit any agreements to forego the rights so given to the servant. The bill did not become law, and no further change was made until, in 1897, parliament took the first step in what has been a complete revolution in the law of employers’ liability. Up to that year, as has been seen, the foundation of a master’s liability was negligence, either of the master himself, or, in certain cases, of his servants. But by the Workmen’s Compensation Act 1897, a new principle was introduced, Acts of 1897 to 1906. whereby certain servants in certain employments were given a right to compensation for injuries, wholly irrespective of any consideration of negligence or contributory negligence. As regards such servants in such employments the master was in effect made an insurer against accidental injuries. The act was confessedly tentative and partial; it dealt only with selected industries, and even within these industries was not of universal application. But where it did apply, it gave a right to a limited compensation in every case of injury by accident arising out of and in the course of the employment, whether that accident had been brought about by negligence or not, and whether the injured servant had or had not contributed to it by his own negligence.
The law remained in this state until 1897. In most cases where a worker was injured, the principle of common employment still protected the employer; and where, under the Employers’ Liability Act, it didn’t, the employer's liability was limited and often hard to enforce due to procedural technicalities. Additionally, the act did not stop employers and workers from making any special agreements they wanted; in many industries, it became common practice to create contracts that completely excluded the act's provisions. In 1893, there was an attempt to change the law by completely abolishing the defense of common employment, aiming to make employers as liable to their workers as to strangers for the negligence of any of their employees working during their job, and at the same time banning any agreements that waived the rights granted to workers. This bill did not pass, and no further changes were made until 1897 when Parliament took the first step towards a complete overhaul of employers’ liability law. Up to that point, as noted, an employer's liability was based on negligence, either on the part of the employer themselves or, in some cases, their workers. However, with the Workmen’s Compensation Act 1897, a new principle was introduced, Acts from 1897 to 1906. which granted certain workers in specific jobs the right to compensation for injuries, regardless of any negligence or contributory negligence considerations. For these workers in these positions, the employer effectively became an insurer against accidental injuries. The act was acknowledged as tentative and incomplete; it only addressed selected industries and even then was not universally applicable. But where it did apply, it provided a right to limited compensation in every case of injury by accident that arose out of and during the course of employment, whether or not that accident was caused by negligence, and whether the injured worker had contributed to it through their own negligence or not.
The act applied only to employment on, or in, or about certain localities where, at the same time, the employer was what the act called an “undertaker,” that is, the person whose business was there being carried on. If we wanted to know whether a workman was within the act, we had to ask, first, was he employed on, or in, or about a railway, or a factory, or a mine, or a quarry, or an engineering shop, or a building of the kind mentioned in the act; secondly, was he employed by one who was, in relation to that railway, &c., the undertaker as defined by the act; and thirdly, was he at the time of the accident at work on, or in, or about that railway, &c. Unless these three conditions were fulfilled the employment was not within the act.
The act only applied to jobs in certain areas where the employer was what the act referred to as an “undertaker,” meaning the person whose business was being conducted there. To determine if a worker was covered by the act, we needed to ask three questions: first, was he working on, in, or around a railway, factory, mine, quarry, engineering shop, or a type of building mentioned in the act; second, was he employed by someone who was the undertaker regarding that railway, etc., as defined by the act; and third, was he working at the time of the accident on, in, or around that railway, etc.? If these three conditions weren't met, the employment wasn't covered by the act.
The employments to which the act applied comprised railways, factories (which included docks, warehouses and steam laundries), mines, engineering works and most kinds of buildings. “Workman” included every person engaged in an employment to which the act applied, whether by manual labour or otherwise, and whether his agreement was one of service or apprenticeship or otherwise, expressed or implied, oral or in writing.
The jobs covered by the act included railways, factories (which encompassed docks, warehouses, and steam laundries), mines, engineering projects, and most types of buildings. “Workman” referred to anyone involved in a job that fell under the act, whether through manual labor or other means, and whether their agreement was for service, apprenticeship, or any other form—expressed or implied, verbal or written.
By the Workmen’s Compensation Act 1900, the benefits of the act of 1897 were extended to agricultural labourers.
By the Workmen’s Compensation Act of 1900, the benefits of the 1897 act were extended to farmworkers.
The Workmen’s Compensation Act 1906 (which came into force on the 1st of July 1907) extended the right of compensation for injuries practically to all persons in service, and also introduced many provisions not contained in the acts of 1897 and 1900 (repealed). It does not apply to persons in the naval or military service of the crown (s. 9), or persons employed otherwise than by way of manual labour whose remuneration exceeds 359 two hundred and fifty pounds a year, or persons whose employment is of a casual nature, and who are employed otherwise than for the purposes of the employer’s trade or business, or members of a police force, or out-workers, or members of the employer’s family dwelling in his house. But it expressly applies to seamen.
The Workmen’s Compensation Act 1906 (which took effect on July 1, 1907) expanded the right to compensation for injuries to nearly all workers and also introduced many provisions not found in the repealed acts of 1897 and 1900. It does not cover individuals in the naval or military service of the crown (s. 9), those employed in non-manual roles who earn more than 359 two hundred and fifty pounds a year, people whose work is casual and not for the employer’s trade or business, police force members, out-workers, or family members of the employer living in the employer's house. However, it clearly applies to seamen.
To entitle a workman engaged in an employment to which the act applies to compensation all the following conditions must be fulfilled: (1) There must be personal injury by accident. This will exclude injury wilfully inflicted, Conditions of claim. unless the injury results in death or serious and permanent disablement, but the act introduces a new provision by making the suspension or disablement from work or death caused by certain industrial diseases “accidents” within the meaning of the act. The industrial diseases specified in the 3rd schedule of the act were anthrax, ankylostomiasis, and lead, mercury, phosphorus and arsenic poisoning or their sequelae. But § 8 of the act authorized the secretary of state to make orders from time to time including other industrial diseases, and such orders have embraced glass workers’ cataract, telegraphists’ cramp, eczematous ulceration of the skin produced by dust or liquid, ulceration of the mucous membrane of the nose or mouth produced by dust, &c. To render the employer liable the workman must either obtain a certificate of disablement or be suspended or die by reason of the disease. If the disease has been contracted by a gradual process, all the employers who have employed the workman during the previous twelve months in the employment to which the disease was due are liable to contribute a share of the compensation to the employer primarily liable. (2) The accident must arise out of and in the course of the employment. In each case it will have to be determined whether the workman was at the time of the accident in the course of his employment, and whether the accident arose out of the employment. It will have to be considered when and where the particular employment began and ended. Other difficulties have arisen and will frequently arise when the workman at the time of the accident is doing something which is no part of the work he is employed to do. So far as the decisions have gone, they indicate that if what the workman is doing is no act of service, but merely for his own pleasure, or if he is improperly meddling with that which is no part of his work, the accident does not arise out of and in the course of his employment; but if, while on his master’s work, he upon an emergency acts in his master’s interest, though what he does is no part of the work he is employed to do, the accident does arise out of and in the course of his employment. (3) The injury must be such as disables the workman for a period of at least one week from earning full wages at the work at which he was employed. (4) Notice of the accident must be given as soon as practicable after the happening thereof, and before the workman has voluntarily left the employment in which he was injured; and the claim for compensation (by which is meant notice that he claims compensation under the act addressed by the workman to the employer) must be made within six months from the occurrence of the accident or, in case of death, from the time of death. Want of notice of the accident or defects in it are not to be a bar to proceedings, if occasioned by mistake or other reasonable cause, and the employer is not prejudiced thereby. But want of notice of a claim for compensation is a bar to proceedings, unless the employer by his conduct has estopped himself from relying upon it. (5) An injured workman must, if so required by the employer, submit himself to medical examination.
To qualify a worker engaged in a job covered by the act for compensation, all of the following conditions must be met: (1) There must be a personal injury due to an accident. This excludes injuries intentionally caused, Claim conditions. unless the injury leads to death or serious and permanent disability. However, the act adds a provision recognizing suspension, disability from work, or death caused by specific industrial diseases as “accidents” according to the act. The industrial diseases listed in the 3rd schedule of the act included anthrax, ankylostomiasis, and poisonings from lead, mercury, phosphorus, and arsenic, or their effects. Section 8 of the act allows the secretary of state to periodically add other industrial diseases, and these orders have included cataracts from glass work, telegraphist's cramp, skin ulcers caused by dust or liquids, and ulcers of the nasal or oral mucous membranes caused by dust, etc. To hold the employer liable, the worker must obtain a disablement certificate or be suspended or die due to the disease. If the disease was acquired gradually, all employers who hired the worker in the 12 months preceding the onset of the disease must contribute to the compensation owed to the primary liable employer. (2) The accident must occur during the course of employment. It must be determined whether the worker was engaged in their work at the time of the accident and whether the accident was related to their job. This will involve considering when and where the employment began and ended. Additional challenges often arise if, at the time of the accident, the worker is engaged in activities unrelated to their assigned work. Current decisions suggest that if the worker's actions are purely for personal enjoyment or if they are improperly interfering with something outside their job responsibilities, the accident does not relate to their employment; however, if they act in their employer's interest during an emergency—even if it’s not part of their job—the accident is considered connected to their employment. (3) The injury must prevent the worker from earning full wages for at least one week in the job they were working. (4) Notice of the accident must be given as soon as possible after it happens, and before the worker has voluntarily left the job where they were injured; additionally, the compensation claim (meaning a notice to the employer claiming compensation under the act) must be made within six months of the accident or, in the case of death, from the time of death. Lack of notice about the accident or any defects in it won’t be a barrier to proceedings if caused by a mistake or reasonable circumstances, and if the employer is not adversely affected. However, failure to notify about a claim for compensation will block proceedings unless the employer has effectively prevented themselves from insisting on this. (5) An injured worker must, if requested by the employer, undergo a medical examination.
When these conditions are fulfilled, an employer who is within the act has no answer unless he can prove that the injury arose from the serious and wilful misconduct of the workman. The precise effect of these terms is not clear; but mere negligence is not within them.
When these conditions are met, an employer covered by the act has no defense unless they can show that the injury was caused by the serious and intentional misconduct of the worker. The exact meaning of these terms isn’t clear, but simple negligence doesn’t fall under them.
Where the injury causes death, the right to compensation belongs to the workman’s “dependents”; that is, such of the members of the workman’s family as were at the time of the death wholly or in part dependent upon the earnings of the workman for their maintenance. “Members of a family” means wife or husband, father, mother, grandfather, grandmother, step-father, step-mother, son, daughter, grandson, granddaughter, step-son, step-daughter, brother, sister, half-brother, half-sister. The act of 1906 makes also a very remarkable departure in including illegitimate relations in the direct line among “dependents,” for where a workman, being the parent or grandparent of an illegitimate child, leaves such a child dependent upon his earnings, or, being an illegitimate child, leaves a parent or grandparent so dependent upon his earnings, such child or parent is to be included in the “members of a family.”
Where the injury leads to death, the right to compensation goes to the worker's “dependents”; meaning those family members who were partially or fully reliant on the worker's income for their living at the time of death. “Family members” includes a spouse, father, mother, grandfather, grandmother, step-father, step-mother, son, daughter, grandson, granddaughter, step-son, step-daughter, brother, sister, half-brother, and half-sister. The act of 1906 also takes a significant step by including illegitimate relatives in the direct line among “dependents,” so if a worker leaves an illegitimate child dependent on their earnings, or if an illegitimate child leaves a parent or grandparent dependent on their earnings, that child or parent is considered a “family member.”
Under the act compensation is for loss of wages only, and is, as has been said, based upon the actual previous earnings of the injured workman in the employment of the employers for whom he is working at the time of the injury. In Amount. case of death, if the workman leaves dependents who were wholly dependent on his earnings, the amount recovered is a sum equal to his earnings in the employment of the same employer during the three years next preceding the injury, or the sum of £150, whichever is the larger, but not exceeding £300; if the period of his employment by the same employer has been less than three years, then the amount of his earnings during the three years is to be deemed to be 156 times his average weekly earnings during the period of his actual employment under the said employer. If the workman leaves only dependents who were not wholly dependent, the amount recovered is such sum as may be reasonable and proportionate to the injury to them, but not exceeding the amount payable in the previous case. If the workman leaves no dependents, the amount recoverable is the reasonable expenses of his medical attendance and burial, not exceeding £10. In case of total or partial incapacity for work resulting from the injury, what is recovered is a weekly payment during the incapacity after the second week not exceeding 50% of the workman’s average weekly earnings during the previous twelve months, if he has been so long employed, but if not, then for any less period during which he has been in the continuous employment of the same employer; such weekly payment is not to exceed £1—and in fixing it regard is to be had to the difference between the amount of his average weekly earnings before the accident and the average amount which he is able to earn after the accident. Any payments, not being wages, made by the employer in respect of the injury must also be taken into account. The weekly payment may from time to time be reviewed at the request of either party, upon evidence of a change in the circumstances since the award was made, and after six months may be redeemed by the employer by payment of a lump sum. A workman is within the act although at the time of the injury he has been in the employment for less than two weeks, and although there are no actual earnings from the same employer upon which a weekly average can be computed. But how are the average weekly earnings which he would have earned from the same employer to be estimated? The question must be determined as one of fact by reference to all the circumstances of the particular case. Suppose the workman to be engaged at six shillings a day and injured on the first day. If it can be inferred that he would have remained in such employment for a whole week, his average weekly earnings from the same employer may be taken at thirty shillings. If it can be inferred that he would have worked one day and no more, his average weekly earnings from the same employer may be taken at six shillings.
Under the act, compensation is only for lost wages and is based on the actual earnings of the injured worker from the employer they were working for at the time of the injury. In case of death, if the worker leaves dependents who were entirely reliant on their earnings, the amount recovered equals the earnings from the same employer during the three years right before the injury, or £150, whichever is greater, but not more than £300. If the worker has been employed by the same employer for less than three years, the amount is calculated as 156 times their average weekly earnings during their actual time working for that employer. If the worker leaves behind dependents who were not completely dependent, the compensation will be a sum that is reasonable and proportional to their injury, but cannot exceed the amount payable in the previous case. If the worker has no dependents, the recoverable amount covers reasonable medical and burial expenses, up to £10. In cases of total or partial inability to work from the injury, compensation is a weekly payment during the incapacity after the second week, not exceeding 50% of the worker’s average weekly earnings in the previous twelve months, assuming they have worked that long; otherwise, it’s for whichever shorter period they have been continuously employed by the same employer. This weekly payment cannot be more than £1, and when determining it, the difference between the average earnings before the accident and the average earnings after should be considered. Any payments from the employer regarding the injury that are not wages must also be included. The weekly payment can be reviewed from time to time at the request of either party if there’s evidence of changed circumstances since the award was made, and after six months, it can be settled by the employer with a lump sum payment. A worker is covered under the act even if they’ve only been employed for less than two weeks when the injury occurred and even if there are no actual earnings from that employer to calculate a weekly average. But how are the average weekly earnings estimated? This question must be decided based on the specific facts of each case. For instance, if a worker is earning six shillings a day and is injured on the first day, if it can be concluded that they would have stayed in that job for a full week, their average weekly earnings from that employer may be considered as thirty shillings. If it can be inferred that they would have worked only that one day, their average weekly earnings could be six shillings.
All questions as to liability or otherwise under the act, if not settled by agreement, are referred to arbitration in accordance with a scheme prescribed by the act. Contracting out is not permitted, save in one event: where a scheme of compensation, benefit or insurance for the workmen of an employer has been certified by the Registrar of Friendly Societies to be not less favourable to the workmen and their dependents than the provisions of the act, and that where the scheme provides for contributions by the workmen, it confers benefits at least equal to those contributions, in addition to the benefits to which the workmen would have been entitled under the act, and that a majority (to be ascertained by ballot) of the workmen to whom the scheme is applicable are in favour of it, the employer may contract with any of his workmen that the provisions of the 360 scheme shall be substituted for the act; such certificate may not be for more than five years, and may in certain circumstances be revoked. The act does not touch the workman’s rights at common law or under the Employers’ Liability Act, but the workman, if more than one remedy is open to him, can enforce only one. When the circumstances create a legal liability in some other person, e.g. where the injury is caused by the negligence of a sub-contractor or of a stranger, in such cases the employer, if required to pay compensation under the act, is entitled to be indemnified by such other person.
All questions regarding liability or anything else under the act, if not resolved by agreement, will be sent to arbitration according to a scheme set out by the act. Opting out is not allowed, except in one case: if a compensation, benefit, or insurance scheme for an employer's workers has been certified by the Registrar of Friendly Societies as being at least as favorable to the workers and their dependents as the provisions of the act, and if the scheme requires contributions from the workers, it must provide benefits that are at least equal to those contributions, in addition to the benefits that the workers would have received under the act, and if a majority (determined by ballot) of the workers affected by the scheme agree to it, the employer may contract with any of his workers to replace the provisions of the 360 scheme with those of the act; such certification can last no longer than five years and can be revoked under certain circumstances. The act does not affect the worker's rights under common law or the Employers’ Liability Act, but if a worker has multiple remedies available, they can only enforce one. When the circumstances create a legal liability for another party, for example, if a subcontractor or outsider's negligence causes the injury, in such cases, the employer, if required to pay compensation under the act, has the right to be reimbursed by that other party.
Under the Factory Acts, offences, when they result in death or bodily injury to health, may be punished by fine not exceeding £100, and the whole or any part of such fine may be applied for the benefit of the injured person or his family, or otherwise as the secretary of state determines. Similar provisions occur in the Mines Acts. Any sum so applied must be taken into account in estimating compensation under the Employers’ Liability and Workmen’s Compensation Acts.
Under the Factory Acts, offenses that lead to death or physical harm can be punished with a fine of up to £100. The entire fine or part of it may be used for the benefit of the injured person or their family, or as decided by the secretary of state. Similar rules are found in the Mines Acts. Any amount used in this way must be considered when calculating compensation under the Employers’ Liability and Workmen’s Compensation Acts.
Law in Other Countries.—In Germany (q.v.) there is a system of compulsory state insurance against accidents to workmen. The law dates from 1884, being amended from time to time (1885, 1886, 1887, 1900, 1903) to Germany. embrace different classes of employment. Occupations are grouped into (1) industry; (2) agriculture; (3) building; (4) marine, to all of which one general law, with variations necessary to the particular occupation in question, is applicable. There are also special provisions for prisoners and government officials. Practically every kind of working-man is thus included, with the exception of domestic servants and artisans or labourers working on their own account. All workmen and officials whose salary does not exceed £150 a year come within the law. No compensation is payable where an accident is caused through a person’s own gross carelessness, and where an accident has been contributed to by a criminal act or intentional wrongdoing the compensation may be refused or only partially allowed. With these exceptions, compensation for injury is payable in case of injury so long as the injured is unfit to work; in case of total incapacity an allowance is made equal to two-thirds of the injured person’s annual earnings, in case of partial incapacity, in proportion to the degree that his wage-earning capacity has been affected. In case of death the compensation is either burial money or an allowance to the family varying in amount from 20 to 60% of the annual earnings according to circumstances. The provision of compensation for accidents falls entirely upon employers, and in order to lighten the burden thus falling upon them, and at the same time to guard against the possible insolvency of an individual employer, associations or self-administering bodies of employers have been formed—usually all the employers of each particular branch of industry in a district. These associations fix the amount of compensation after each accident, and at the end of the year assess the amount upon the individual employers. There is an appeal from the association to an arbitration court, and in particularly complicated cases there may be a further appeal to the imperial insurance department. No allowance is paid until after the lapse of thirteen weeks from the accident, and in the meantime the injured person is supported from a sick fund to which the employers contribute one-third, the employee contributing two-thirds. In Germany quite twelve millions of workpeople are insured; in 1905 a sum of nearly eight millions sterling was paid for accidents, and a million and a half to the families of those killed in accidents.
Law in Other Countries.—In Germany (q.v.), there is a system of mandatory state insurance for work-related accidents. The law originated in 1884 and has been updated several times (1885, 1886, 1887, 1900, 1903) to include different types of jobs. Jobs are classified into (1) industry; (2) agriculture; (3) construction; and (4) marine, all of which fall under one general law, with necessary variations for each specific occupation. There are also special provisions for prisoners and government officials. Almost every type of worker is covered, except for domestic servants and self-employed artisans or laborers. All workers and officials earning up to £150 a year are included under the law. No compensation is given if an accident is caused by a person's own gross negligence, and if an accident results from a criminal act or intentional wrongdoing, compensation may be denied or limited. With these exceptions, compensation is available for injuries as long as the injured person is unable to work; if totally incapacitated, they receive two-thirds of their annual earnings, and for partial incapacity, compensation is adjusted based on the degree to which their ability to earn has been impacted. In the event of death, compensation covers burial costs or provides a family allowance ranging from 20% to 60% of the deceased's annual earnings, depending on the situation. The responsibility for providing compensation for accidents lies entirely with employers, and to ease their burden and protect against potential insolvency, associations or self-managed groups of employers have been created, typically consisting of all employers in a specific industry within a region. These associations determine compensation amounts after each accident and assess costs to individual employers at the end of the year. There is an option to appeal from the association to an arbitration court, and in particularly complex cases, a further appeal can be made to the imperial insurance department. No compensation is paid until thirteen weeks after the accident, during which time the injured worker receives support from a sick fund, with employers contributing one-third and employees contributing two-thirds. In Germany, approximately twelve million workers are insured; in 1905, nearly eight million pounds was paid out for accidents, along with one and a half million for the families of those who died in accidents.
In Austria the compulsory insurance of workmen was provided for by a law of 1887, with subsequent amendments. Briefly, nearly every class of industrial worker is included under the Austrian law, which is administered by Austria. special territorial insurance institutions, each of them embracing particular classes of industries or workers. The institutions are managed by committees, one-third of the members of each committee being chosen by the minister of the interior, one-third by the employers and one-third by the workers. Compensation is payable, in case of accidents, on a scale proportionate to the injured person’s wages during the preceding year. In case of death, a certain sum is paid for funeral expenses, an annuity to the widow, if one is left, equal to 20% of the deceased’s annual wages—if the widow remarries, she receives a lump sum equal to three annual payments in liquidation of the annuity—an annuity to each legitimate child equal to 15%, or, if the child has no mother, equal to 20% of the father’s wages; an annuity to the father or mother, if dependent on the deceased for support, equal to 20% of the annual wages. As in the English act of 1906 illegitimate children are recognized by being granted an annuity in the case of the death of a father equal to 10% of his wages. In no case can the total amount of the annuities exceed 50% of the deceased’s annual wages. Where the accident has resulted in total incapacity, the workman receives an annuity equal to 60% of his wages. No allowance is paid until after the fourth week, during which time the injured is supported by the sick-insurance institutions. The provision for the system is raised by contributions to the extent of nine-tenths by the employers and one-tenth by the workers, deducted from their wages. Instead of the German method by which an annual payment equal to the amount disbursed is required from each employer, he is required to provide the full amount necessary for the complete payment of the pension, this amount being placed to the credit of a special insurance fund.
In Austria, compulsory insurance for workers was established by a law in 1887, with later updates. Basically, nearly every type of industrial worker falls under this Austrian law, which is managed by Austria. specific territorial insurance organizations, each covering certain types of industries or workers. These organizations are run by committees, with one-third of the committee members appointed by the minister of the interior, one-third by the employers, and one-third by the workers. Compensation for accidents is calculated based on the injured person's wages from the previous year. In the event of death, a fixed amount is provided for funeral costs, plus an annuity for the widow, if there is one, equal to 20% of the deceased’s annual wages. If the widow remarries, she receives a one-time payment equal to three years' worth of the annuity. Each legitimate child receives an annuity equal to 15% of the father's wages, or 20% if the mother is not present. A dependent parent also gets an annuity equal to 20% of the annual wages. Following the English act of 1906, illegitimate children are acknowledged and provided an annuity of 10% of the father's wages if he passes away. In total, the combined annuities cannot exceed 50% of the deceased’s annual wages. If an accident leads to total disability, the worker receives an annuity equal to 60% of his wages. No payments are made until after the fourth week, during which the injured party is supported by sick insurance funds. Funding for the system comes from contributions, with employers covering nine-tenths and workers contributing one-tenth, deducted from their pay. Unlike the German system, where each employer makes an annual payment equal to what is spent, employers here must cover the entire amount needed for pension payments, which goes into a special insurance fund.
In France a system of compulsory state insurance against France. accidents was created by a law of 1898. The principal feature in the French law is the attempt to meet the possible insolvency of the employer by the establishment of a special guarantee fund, created by a small addition to the “business tax” (contribution des patentes), and, in the case of the mining industry, by a small tax on mines.
In France, a system of mandatory state insurance for accidents was established by a law in 1898. The main aspect of the French law is its effort to address the potential insolvency of employers by setting up a special guarantee fund, funded by a small increase in the “business tax” (contribution des patentes), and, for the mining industry, by a small tax on mines.
Norway, by a law of 1894, amended in 1897 and 1899, adopted Norway. a system of compulsory insurance modelled to a great extent on the German system. Instead, however, of a trade association as in Germany, or a district insurance association as in Austria, there is a government insurance office, in which employers have to insure their workmen.
Norway, through a law passed in 1894 and revised in 1897 and 1899, established a system of mandatory insurance largely based on the German model. However, rather than using a trade association like in Germany or a regional insurance association as seen in Austria, there is a government insurance office where employers are required to insure their employees.
In Denmark a law was passed in 1897 rendering employers Denmark. personally liable for the amount of compensation for accidents, but employers may relieve themselves of this liability by insuring workmen in an assurance association approved of by the minister of the interior. This course, however, is discretionary with employers.
In Denmark, a law was enacted in 1897 making employers personally responsible for compensation in case of accidents. However, employers can eliminate this liability by securing insurance for their workers through an assurance association approved by the minister of the interior. This option, though, is up to the employers.
In Italy, although many attempts were made between 1889 and 1898 to introduce a system of compulsory insurance, it was not until the latter year that the principle was adopted. There is a National Bank for the Insurance Italy. of Working men against Accident (Cassa Nazionale di Assicurazione per gli infortuni degli operaji sul lavoro), created under a law of 1883. It has special privileges, such as exemption from taxation and the employment of the branch offices of the state post-office savings bank as local offices. Under the law of 1898 there is a primary obligation on the employer to insure his workmen with the National Bank, but he may, if he prefers, insure with other societies approved by government. Employers employing about five hundred workmen may, instead of insuring, establish a fund for the payment of not less than the statutory compensation, subject to giving adequate security for the sufficiency of the fund. Exemption from compulsory insurance is granted to employers who have established a mutual insurance association, which must comply with certain prescribed conditions. Railway companies, also, are exempt, if they have relief funds which conform with the provisions of the act.
In Italy, even though there were several attempts to introduce a system of mandatory insurance between 1889 and 1898, it wasn't until the latter year that the idea was officially accepted. There is a National Bank for the Insurance Italy. of Workers Against Accidents (Cassa Nazionale di Assicurazione per gli infortuni degli operaji sul lavoro), which was established under a law from 1883. It has special privileges, like being exempt from taxes and being allowed to use the branch offices of the state post-office savings bank as local offices. According to the law from 1898, employers are required to insure their workers with the National Bank, although they can choose to insure with other government-approved societies if they prefer. Employers with around five hundred workers can, instead of getting insurance, set up a fund to pay at least the legal compensation, provided they give adequate security for the fund's sufficiency. Employers who have formed a mutual insurance association that meets certain conditions are exempt from mandatory insurance. Railway companies are also exempt if they have relief funds that comply with the act's provisions.
In Spain an act of the 30th of January 1900, adopted the Spain. principle of the personal responsibility of the employer for accidents to workmen other than those due to vis major. The act also lays down regulations for preventing accidents in dangerous trades, and releases the employer from personal liability on effecting adequate insurance of his workmen with an approved insurance company.
In Spain, a law passed on January 30, 1900, established the principle of personal responsibility for employers regarding accidents to workers, except in cases of force majeure. The law also sets rules for preventing accidents in hazardous jobs and relieves the employer from personal liability if they provide adequate insurance for their workers through a licensed insurance company.
Holland has adopted the principle of compulsory insurance by a law of the 2nd of January 1901. An employer has to pay the necessary premium to the State Insurance Office, or by Holland. depositing adequate security with the State Office he may 361 undertake the payment of the prescribed compensation himself. Or he may transfer his liability to an insurance company, provided the company deposit adequate security with the State Office. The State Insurance Office is under the management of directors appointed by the crown, and decides on all questions as to compensation; there is also a “Supervisory Board” of the State Office with joint representation of employers and workmen. There is an appeal from the State Office to Councils of Appeal, and from them to a National Board of Appeal.
Holland has implemented the principle of mandatory insurance through a law enacted on January 2, 1901. Employers are required to pay the necessary premium to the State Insurance Office, or by Netherlands. depositing sufficient security with the State Office, they can take on the responsibility of paying the required compensation themselves. Alternatively, they can transfer their liability to an insurance company, as long as the company deposits adequate security with the State Office. The State Insurance Office is managed by directors appointed by the crown, and it makes decisions on all matters related to compensation; there is also a “Supervisory Board” of the State Office that includes representatives from both employers and workers. Appeals can be made from the State Office to Councils of Appeal, and from those councils to a National Board of Appeal.
Greece has a law of the 21st of February 1901, providing Greece. for compensation for accidents causing incapacity of more than four days’ duration to workmen in mines, quarries and smelting works. The employer is exclusively liable for such compensation and for medical expenses during the first three months; after that time he is liable for one-half, the other half being borne by a miners’ provident fund, supported by certain taxes on the properties affected, fines, &c.
Greece has a law dated February 21, 1901, which provides Greece. compensation for accidents that result in more than four days of incapacity for workers in mines, quarries, and smelting operations. The employer is solely responsible for this compensation and for medical expenses for the first three months; after that period, the employer is responsible for half, while the other half is covered by a miners’ provident fund, which is financed through certain taxes on the affected properties, fines, etc.
By a law of the 5th of July 1901, Sweden adopted the principle Sweden. of the personal liability of the employer for industrial accidents. The employer can, however, insure himself against liability in the Royal Insurance Institute. Compensation becomes payable after the expiration of sixty days from the date of the accident.
By a law dated July 5, 1901, Sweden adopted the principle Sweden. of personal liability for employers in cases of industrial accidents. However, employers can protect themselves against this liability through the Royal Insurance Institute. Compensation becomes payable after sixty days from the date of the accident.
Russia has a law which came into force on the 1st of January Russia. 1904. Under this law employers in certain specified industries are bound to indemnify workers for incapacity of more than three days’ duration due to injury arising out of their work. Employers are exempt from liability by insuring their workmen in insurance companies whose terms are not less favourable than those laid down by the law.
Russia has a law that took effect on January 1, 1904. Under this law, employers in specific industries are required to compensate workers for injuries that result in more than three days of incapacity related to their job. Employers can avoid liability by insuring their employees with insurance companies that offer terms at least as favorable as those mandated by the law.
Belgium passed a law dealing with industrial accidents on the 24th of December 1903. It adopts the principle of the personal liability of the employer in certain specified Belgium. trades or industries. There is a power of extension to such other undertakings as may be declared dangerous by the Commission on Labour Accidents. Employers may exempt themselves from their liability by contracting for the payment of compensation by an insurance company approved by the government or by the National Savings and Pension Fund. Where an employer does not so contract, he must (with certain exemptions) contribute to a special insurance fund. The law of 1903 also established a permanent Commission on Labour Accidents.
Belgium enacted a law regarding industrial accidents on December 24, 1903. It establishes that employers are personally liable in certain specified trades or industries. There is also a provision to extend this liability to other businesses identified as dangerous by the Commission on Labour Accidents. Employers can limit their liability by arranging for compensation payments through a government-approved insurance company or the National Savings and Pension Fund. If an employer does not make such an arrangement, he must (with some exceptions) contribute to a special insurance fund. The 1903 law also created a permanent Commission on Labour Accidents.
Switzerland Switzerland. in 1899 adopted a law providing for accident insurance, but it was defeated on referendum in May 1900.
Switzerland Switzerland. In 1899, Switzerland passed a law for accident insurance, but it was rejected in a referendum in May 1900.
In the United States the law mainly depends on the doctrine of common employment, and the extent to which this doctrine is applied varies considerably in the different states, more particularly as to who are and who are not to be regarded as fellow-servants. The tendency, however, has been to increase the liability of the employer for the United States. negligence of a fellow-servant, and in the case of employment on railways many states have passed laws either modifying or abrogating the doctrine. Colorado, by a law of 1901, has entirely abrogated it; and Alabama, Massachusetts and New York have laws generally similar to the English act of 1880. But the greatest departure, due to the initiative of President Roosevelt, has been the passing by the Federal Congress of the laws of April 22 and May 30, 1908, one giving damages to injured employees of interstate carriers by railroad, and common carriers by railroad in Territories, the District of Columbia, the Canal Zone and other territory governed by Congress, and the other giving regular wages for not more than one year to injured employees of the U.S. government in arsenals, navy yards, construction work on rivers, harbours and fortifications, hazardous work in connexion with the Panama Canal or Reclamation Service, and in government manufacturing establishments. These national laws, which were intended to serve as an example to the states, specifically provided for employers’ liability and for the non-recognition of the doctrine of common employment.
In the United States, the law mainly relies on the doctrine of common employment, and the way this doctrine is applied varies significantly across different states, especially regarding who is considered a fellow-servant. However, there has been a trend towards increasing employer liability for the negligence of a fellow-servant, particularly in railway jobs. Many states have enacted laws that either modify or eliminate the doctrine. For example, Colorado completely abolished it with a law in 1901, while Alabama, Massachusetts, and New York have laws similar to the English act of 1880. The most significant change, initiated by President Roosevelt, was the passage of laws by the Federal Congress on April 22 and May 30, 1908. One law provides damages to employees injured while working for interstate railroad carriers and common carriers in territories, the District of Columbia, the Canal Zone, and other areas under Congressional governance. The other law ensures regular wages for up to one year for employees of the U.S. government injured in arsenals, navy yards, construction work on rivers, harbors and fortifications, hazardous work related to the Panama Canal or Reclamation Service, and in government manufacturing facilities. These federal laws were designed to set an example for the states by specifically addressing employer liability and rejecting the doctrine of common employment.
Most of the British colonial states have adopted the principle of the English Workmen’s Compensation Act of 1897, and the British Colonies. various colonial acts are closely modelled on the English act, with more or less important variations in detail. The New Zealand Act was passed in 1900, and amended in 1901, 1902, 1903 and 1905. The act of 1905 (No. 50) fixes the minimum compensation for total or partial disablement at £1 a week when the worker’s previous remuneration was not less than 30s. a week. South Australia passed a Workmen’s Compensation Act in 1900 and Western Australia one in 1902. New South Wales passed one in 1905, and British Columbia in 1902.
Most of the British colonial states have adopted the principle of the English Workmen’s Compensation Act of 1897, and the British Territories. various colonial acts are closely modeled on the English act, with more or less significant variations in detail. The New Zealand Act was passed in 1900 and amended in 1901, 1902, 1903, and 1905. The act of 1905 (No. 50) sets the minimum compensation for total or partial disablement at £1 a week when the worker’s previous earnings were at least 30s. a week. South Australia passed a Workmen’s Compensation Act in 1900, and Western Australia enacted one in 1902. New South Wales passed its act in 1905, and British Columbia did so in 1902.
EMPOLI, a town of Tuscany, Italy, in the province of Florence, from which it is 20 m. W. by S. by rail. Pop. (1901) 7005 (town); 20,301 (commune). It is situated 89 ft. above sea-level, to the S. of the Arno. The principal church, the Collegiata, or Pieve di S. Andrea, founded in 1093, still preserves the lower part of the original arcaded façade in black, white and coloured marble. The works of art which it once contained are most of them preserved in a gallery close by. Some of the other churches contain interesting works of art. The principal square is surrounded by old houses with arcades. The painter Jacopo Chimenti (Jacopo da Empoli), 1554-1640, was born here. Empoli is on the main railway line from Florence to Pisa, and is the point of divergence of a line to Siena.
EMPOLI, is a town in Tuscany, Italy, located in the province of Florence, about 20 miles southwest by rail. The population in 1901 was 7,005 (town) and 20,301 (commune). It sits 89 feet above sea level, south of the Arno River. The main church, the Collegiata, or Pieve di S. Andrea, founded in 1093, still retains the lower part of its original arcaded façade made of black, white, and colored marble. Most of the artwork it once housed can be found in a nearby gallery. Other churches in the area also feature interesting artworks. The main square is lined with historic buildings that have arcades. The painter Jacopo Chimenti (Jacopo da Empoli), who lived from 1554 to 1640, was born here. Empoli is located on the main railway line connecting Florence and Pisa, and it marks the point where a line diverges towards Siena.
EMPORIA, a city and the county-seat of Lyon county, Kansas, U.S.A., on the Neosho river, about 60 m. S.W. of Topeka. Pop. (1890) 7551; (1900) 8223, of whom 686 were foreign-born and 663 were negroes; (1910 U.S. census) 9058. It is served by the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fé, and the Missouri, Kansas & Texas railways. The city has a Carnegie library, and is the seat of the state normal school and of the College of Emporia (Presbyterian; 1883). Emporia’s industrial interests are mainly centred in commerce with the surrounding farming region; but there are small flour mills, machine shops, foundries and other manufacturing establishments,—in 1905 the value of the factory product was $571,601. The municipality owns and operates the water-works and the electric-lighting plant. Emporia was settled in 1856 and was chartered as a city in 1870. The Emporia Gazette, established in 1890, was purchased in 1894 by William Allen White (b. 1868), a native of Emporia, who took over the editorship and made a great stir in 1896 by his editorial entitled “What’s the matter with Kansas?”; he also wrote several volumes of excellent short stories, particularly The Court of Boyville (1889), Stratagems and Spoils (1901) and In Our Town (1906).
EMPORIA, is a city and the county seat of Lyon County, Kansas, U.S.A., located on the Neosho River, about 60 miles southwest of Topeka. Population: (1890) 7,551; (1900) 8,223, of whom 686 were foreign-born and 663 were Black; (1910 U.S. census) 9,058. The city is served by the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fé and the Missouri, Kansas & Texas railways. Emporia has a Carnegie library and is home to the state normal school and the College of Emporia (Presbyterian; 1883). The city's industrial focus is primarily on commerce with the surrounding farming area; however, there are small flour mills, machine shops, foundries, and other manufacturing businesses—by 1905, the value of factory production was $571,601. The municipality owns and operates the waterworks and the electric lighting plant. Emporia was settled in 1856 and became a city in 1870. The Emporia Gazette, founded in 1890, was bought in 1894 by William Allen White (b. 1868), a native of Emporia, who became the editor and created a buzz in 1896 with his editorial titled “What’s the Matter with Kansas?”; he also authored several excellent short story collections, particularly The Court of Boyville (1889), Stratagems and Spoils (1901), and In Our Town (1906).
EMPORIUM (a Latin adaptation of the Gr. ἐμπόριον, from ἐν, in, and stem of πορεύεσθαι, to travel for purpose of trade) a trade-centre such as a commercial city, to which buyers and dealers resort for transaction of business from all parts of the world. The word is often applied to a large shop.
EMPORIUM (a Latin adaptation of the Gr. marketplace, from ἐν, meaning in, and the stem of go, meaning to travel for the purpose of trade) refers to a trade center like a commercial city, where buyers and sellers come together to conduct business from all over the world. The term is often used to describe a large shop.
EMPSON, SIR RICHARD (d. 1510), minister of Henry VII., king of England, was a son of Peter Empson, an influential inhabitant of Towcester. Educated as a lawyer he soon attained considerable success in his profession, and in 1491 was one of the members of parliament for Northamptonshire and speaker of the House of Commons. Early in the reign of Henry VII. he became associated with Edmund Dudley (q.v.) in carrying out the king’s rigorous and arbitrary system of taxation, and in consequence he became very unpopular. Retaining the royal favour, however, he was made a knight in 1504, and was soon high steward of the university of Cambridge, and chancellor of the duchy of Lancaster; but his official career ended with Henry’s death in April 1509. Thrown into prison by order of the new king, Henry VIII., he was charged, like Dudley, with the crime of constructive treason, and was convicted at Northampton in October 1509. His attainder by the parliament followed, and he was beheaded on the 17th or 18th of August 1510. Empson left, so far as is known, a family of two sons and four daughters, and about 1513 his estates were restored to his elder son, Thomas.
EMPSON, SIR RICHARD (d. 1510), minister of Henry VII, king of England, was the son of Peter Empson, a prominent resident of Towcester. Educated as a lawyer, he quickly found success in his career, and in 1491 he became one of the members of parliament for Northamptonshire and the speaker of the House of Commons. Early in Henry VII's reign, he teamed up with Edmund Dudley (q.v.) to implement the king’s harsh and arbitrary tax system, which made him very unpopular. However, he maintained the king's favor, was knighted in 1504, and soon became the high steward of the University of Cambridge and the chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster. His official career came to an end with the death of Henry in April 1509. Imprisoned by the new king, Henry VIII, he was charged, like Dudley, with constructive treason and was convicted in Northampton in October 1509. He was subsequently attainted by parliament and was executed on August 17th or 18th, 1510. Empson is known to have had a family of two sons and four daughters, and around 1513, his estates were restored to his elder son, Thomas.
See Francis Bacon, History of Henry VII., edited by J.R. Lumby (Cambridge, 1881); and J.S. Brewer, The Reign of Henry VIII., edited by J. Gairdner (London, 1884).
See Francis Bacon, History of Henry VII, edited by J.R. Lumby (Cambridge, 1881); and J.S. Brewer, The Reign of Henry VIII, edited by J. Gairdner (London, 1884).
EMPYEMA (from Gr. ἐν, within, and πῦον, pus), a term in medicine applied to an accumulation of purulent fluid within the cavity of the pleura (see Lung: Surgery).
EMPYEMA (from Greek ἐν, meaning within, and fire, meaning pus), is a medical term used for a buildup of pus-filled fluid in the pleural cavity (see Lung: Surgery).
EMPYREAN (from the Med. Lat. empyreus, an adaptation of the Gr. ἔρπνρος, in or on the fire, πῦρ), the place in the highest heaven, which in ancient cosmologies was supposed to be occupied by the element of fire. It was thus used as a name for the firmament, and in Christian literature for the dwelling-place of God and the blessed, and as the source of light. The word is used both as a substantive and as an adjective. Having the same Greek origin are the scientific words “empyreuma” and “empyreumatic,” applied to the characteristic smell of burning or charring vegetable or animal matter.
EMPYREAN (from Medieval Latin empyreus, adapted from Greek ἔρπνρος, meaning in or on the fire, fire), refers to the highest heaven, which ancient cosmologies believed was associated with the element of fire. It was used as a term for the firmament and, in Christian texts, for the dwelling place of God and the blessed, as well as the source of light. The word can be used both as a noun and an adjective. The scientific terms “empyreuma” and “empyreumatic,” both derived from the same Greek origin, describe the characteristic smell of burning or charring plant or animal matter.
EMS, a river of Germany, rising on the south slope of the Teutoburger Wald, at an altitude of 358 ft., and flowing generally north-west and north through Westphalia and Hanover to the east side of the Dollart, immediately south of Emden. After passing through the Dollart the navigable stream bifurcates, the eastern Ems going to the east, and the western Ems to the west, of the island of Borkum to the North Sea. Length, 200 m.
EMS, is a river in Germany, starting on the southern slope of the Teutoburger Wald at an elevation of 358 ft. It generally flows northwest and north through Westphalia and Hanover to the eastern side of the Dollart, right south of Emden. After it passes through the Dollart, the navigable river splits: the eastern Ems heads east and the western Ems heads west of the island of Borkum into the North Sea. Its length is 200 m.
Between 1892 and 1899 the river was canalized along its right bank for a distance of 43 m. At the same time, and as part of the same general plan, a canal, the Dortmund-Ems Canal, was dug to connect the river (from Münster) with Herne in the Westphalian coal-field. At Henrichenburg a branch from Herne (5 m. long) connects with another branch from Dortmund (10½ m. long). Another branch, from Olfen (north of Dortmund), connects with Duisburg, and so with the Rhine. There is, however, a difference in elevation of 46 ft. between the two branches first named, and vessels are transferred from the one to the other by means of a huge lift. The canal, which was constructed to carry small steamers and boats up to 220 ft. in length and 750 tons burden, measures 169 m. in length, of which 108½ m. were actually dug, and cost altogether £3,728,750. The surface width throughout is 98½ ft., the bottom width 59 ft., and the depth 81⁄6 ft.
Between 1892 and 1899, the river was channeled along its right bank for a distance of 43 meters. At the same time, as part of the same overall plan, a canal, the Dortmund-Ems Waterway, was excavated to connect the river (from Münster) with Herne in the Westphalian coalfield. At Henrichenburg, a 5-meter-long branch from Herne connects to another branch from Dortmund that is 10.5 meters long. Another branch, from Olfen (north of Dortmund), connects with Duisburg, linking to the Rhine. However, there is a height difference of 46 feet between the two initially mentioned branches, and vessels are transferred from one to the other using a large lift. The canal, designed to accommodate small steamers and boats up to 220 feet long and 750 tons in weight, measures 169 meters in total, of which 108.5 meters were actually dug, and cost a total of £3,728,750. The surface width throughout is 98.5 feet, the bottom width is 59 feet, and the depth is 81⁄6 feet.
See Victor Kurs, “Die künstlichen Wasserstrassen des deutschen Reichs,” in Geog. Zeitschrift (1898), pp. 601-617 and 665-694; and Deutsche Rundschau f. Geog. und Stat. (1898), pp. 130-131.
See Victor Kurs, “The Artificial Waterways of the German Empire,” in Geog. Zeitschrift (1898), pp. 601-617 and 665-694; and Deutsche Rundschau f. Geog. und Stat. (1898), pp. 130-131.
EMS, a town and watering-place of Germany, in the Prussian province of Hesse-Nassau, romantically situated on both banks of the Lahn, in a valley surrounded by wooded mountains and vine-clad hills, 11 m. E. from Coblenz on the railway to Cassel and Berlin. Pop. 6500. It has two Evangelical, a Roman Catholic, an English and a Russian church. There is some mining industry (silver and lead). Ems is one of the most delightful and fashionable watering-places of Europe. Its waters—hot alkaline springs about twenty in number—are used both for drinking and bathing, and are efficacious in chronic nervous disorders, feminine complaints and affections of the liver and respiratory organs. On the right bank of the river lies the Kursaal with pretty gardens. A stone let into the promenade close by marks the spot where, on the 13th of July 1870, King William of Prussia had the famous interview with the French ambassador Count Benedetti (q.v.) which resulted in the war of 1870-1871. A funicular railway runs up to the Malberg (1000 ft.), where is a sanatorium and whence extensive views are obtained over the Rhine valley. Ems is largely frequented in the summer months by visitors from all parts of the world—the numbers amounting to about 11,000 annually—and many handsome villas have been erected for their accommodation. In August 1786 Ems was the scene of the conference of the delegates of the four German archbishops, known as the congress of Ems, which issued (August 25) in the famous joint pronouncement, known as the Punctation of Ems, against the interference of the papacy in the affairs of the Catholic Church in Germany (see Febronianism).
EMS a town and spa in Germany, located in the Prussian province of Hesse-Nassau, is beautifully situated on both banks of the Lahn river, nestled in a valley surrounded by wooded mountains and hills covered in vineyards, 11 miles east of Coblenz along the railway to Cassel and Berlin. Population: 6,500. It features two Evangelical churches, a Roman Catholic church, an English church, and a Russian church. There is some mining activity (silver and lead). Ems is one of the most charming and trendy spa towns in Europe. Its waters—about twenty hot alkaline springs—are used for both drinking and bathing, and they are effective for chronic nerve disorders, women's health issues, as well as liver and respiratory problems. On the right bank of the river stands the Kursaal, surrounded by lovely gardens. A stone set into the promenade nearby marks the spot where, on July 13, 1870, King William of Prussia had the notable meeting with the French ambassador Count Benedetti (q.v.) that led to the war of 1870-1871. A funicular railway takes visitors up to the Malberg (1,000 ft.), where there is a sanatorium and panoramic views of the Rhine valley. Ems attracts many visitors from around the world during the summer months, with annual visitors totaling around 11,000, leading to the construction of many beautiful villas for their stay. In August 1786, Ems hosted the conference of delegates from the four German archbishops, known as the Congress of Ems, which culminated on August 25 in a significant joint declaration, known as the Punctation of Ems, opposing papal interference in the Catholic Church's affairs in Germany (see Febronianism).
See Vogler, Ems, seine Heilquellen, Kureinrichtungen, &c. (Ems, 1888); and Hess, Zur Geschichte der Stadt Ems (Ems, 1895).
See Vogler, Ems, his healing springs, spa facilities, &c. (Ems, 1888); and Hess, On the History of the City of Ems (Ems, 1895).
EMSER, JEROME, or Hieronymus (1477-1527), antagonist of Luther, was born of a good family at Ulm on the 20th of March 1477. He studied Greek at Tübingen and jurisprudence at Basel, and after acting for three years as chaplain and secretary to Raymond Peraudi, cardinal of Gurk, he began lecturing on classics in 1504 at Erfurt, where Luther may have been among his audience. In the same year he became secretary to Duke George of Albertine Saxony, who, unlike his cousin Frederick the Wise, the elector of Ernestine Saxony, remained the stanchest defender of Roman Catholicism among the princes of northern Germany. Duke George at this time was bent on securing the canonization of Bishop Benno of Meissen, and at his instance Emser travelled through Saxony and Bohemia in search of materials for a life of Benno, which he subsequently published in German and Latin. In pursuit of the same object he made an unsuccessful visit to Rome in 1510. Meanwhile he had also been lecturing on classics at Leipzig, but gradually turned his attention to theology and canon law. A prebend at Dresden (1509) and another at Meissen, which he obtained through Duke George’s influence, gave him means and leisure to pursue his studies.
EMSER, JEROME, or Hieronymus (1477-1527), opponent of Luther, was born into a respectable family in Ulm on March 20, 1477. He studied Greek at Tübingen and law at Basel, and after spending three years as chaplain and secretary to Cardinal Raymond Peraudi of Gurk, he began teaching classics in 1504 at Erfurt, where Luther might have been part of his audience. That same year, he became the secretary to Duke George of Albertine Saxony, who, unlike his cousin Frederick the Wise, the elector of Ernestine Saxony, staunchly defended Roman Catholicism among the northern German princes. At that time, Duke George was determined to secure the canonization of Bishop Benno of Meissen, and at his request, Emser traveled through Saxony and Bohemia to gather materials for a biography of Benno, which he later published in German and Latin. In pursuit of the same goal, he made an unsuccessful trip to Rome in 1510. In the meantime, he had also been lecturing on classics at Leipzig, but gradually shifted his focus to theology and canon law. A prebend in Dresden (1509) and another in Meissen, which he acquired through Duke George’s influence, provided him with the resources and time to continue his studies.
At first Emser was on the side of the reformers, but like his patron he desired a practical reformation of the clergy without any doctrinal breach with the past or the church; and his liberal sympathies were mainly humanistic, like those of Erasmus and others who parted company with Luther after 1519. As late as that year Luther referred to him as “Emser noster,” but the disputation at Leipzig in that year completed the breach between them. Emser warned his Bohemian friends against Luther, and Luther retorted with an attack on Emser which outdid in scurrility all his polemical writings. Emser, who was further embittered by an attack of the Leipzig students, imitated Luther’s violence, and asserted that Luther’s whole crusade originated in nothing more than enmity to the Dominicans, Luther’s reply was to burn Emser’s books along with Leo X.’s bull of excommunication.
At first, Emser supported the reformers, but like his patron, he wanted a practical reformation of the clergy without breaking doctrinal ties with the past or the church. His liberal views were mostly humanistic, similar to those of Erasmus and others who distanced themselves from Luther after 1519. As late as that year, Luther referred to him as "our Emser," but the debate at Leipzig that year finalized their split. Emser warned his friends in Bohemia about Luther, and Luther shot back with a harsh attack on Emser that surpassed the rudeness of all his previous writings. Emser, feeling even more insulted after being attacked by Leipzig students, matched Luther's aggression and claimed that Luther's entire campaign stemmed from nothing but hatred for the Dominicans. Luther's response was to burn Emser's books along with Leo X's bull of excommunication.
Emser next, in 1521, published an attack on Luther’s “Appeal to the German Nobility,” and eight works followed from his pen in the controversy, in which he defended the Roman doctrine of the Mass and the primacy of the pope. At Duke George’s instance he prepared, in 1523, a German translation of Henry VIII.’s “Assertio Septem Sacramentorum contra Lutherum,” and criticized Luther’s “New Testament.” He also entered into a controversy with Zwingli. He took an active part in organizing a reformed Roman Catholic Church in Germany, and in 1527 published a German version of the New Testament as a counterblast to Luther’s. He died on the 8th of November in that year and was buried at Dresden.
Emser, in 1521, published a critique of Luther’s “Appeal to the German Nobility,” and he followed it with eight more works in the ongoing debate, where he defended the Roman doctrine of the Mass and the authority of the pope. At the request of Duke George, he created a German translation of Henry VIII’s “Assertio Septem Sacramentorum contra Lutherum” in 1523 and criticized Luther’s “New Testament.” He also engaged in a debate with Zwingli. He played an active role in organizing a reformed Roman Catholic Church in Germany and, in 1527, published a German version of the New Testament as a response to Luther’s. He passed away on November 8th of that year and was buried in Dresden.
Emser was a vigorous controversialist, and next to Eck the most eminent of the German divines who stood by the old church. But he was hardly a great scholar; the errors he detected in Luther’s New Testament were for the most part legitimate variations from the Vulgate, and his own version is merely Luther’s adapted to Vulgate requirements.
Emser was a lively debater, and after Eck, he was the most notable of the German theologians who supported the old church. However, he wasn't really a great scholar; the mistakes he found in Luther's New Testament were mostly just valid differences from the Vulgate, and his own version is simply Luther's adjusted to meet Vulgate standards.
Bibliography.—Waldau, Nachricht von Hieronymus Emsers Leben und Schriften (Anspach, 1783); Kawerau, Hieronymus Emser (Halle, 1898); Akten und Briefe zur Kirchenpolitik Herzog Georgs von Sachsen (Leipzig, 1905); Allgemeine deutsche Biographie, vi. 96-98 (1877). All histories of the Reformation in Germany contain notices of Emser; see especially Friedensburg, Beiträge zum Briefwechsel der katholischen Gelehrten Deutschlands im Reformationszeitalter.
References.—Waldau, News about the Life and Writings of Hieronymus Emser (Anspach, 1783); Kawerau, Hieronymus Emser (Halle, 1898); Documents and Letters on the Church Policy of Duke George of Saxony (Leipzig, 1905); General German Biography, vi. 96-98 (1877). All histories of the Reformation in Germany include mentions of Emser; see especially Friedensburg, Contributions to the Correspondence of Catholic Scholars in Germany during the Reformation Era.
ENAMEL (formerly “amel,” derived through the Fr. amail, esmal, esmail, from a Latin word smaltum, first found in a 9th-century life of Leo IV.), a term, strictly speaking, given to the hard vitreous compound, which is “fused” upon the surface of metallic objects either for the purpose of decoration or utility. This compound is a form of glass made of silica, minium and potash, which is stained by the chemical combination of various metallic oxides whilst in a melted condition in the crucible. This strict application of the term was widened to signify the metal object coated with enamel, so that to-day the term “an enamel” generally implies a work of art in enamel upon metal. The composition of the substance enamel which is used upon metal does not vary to any great extent from the enamels employed upon pottery and faience. But they differ in this respect, that the pottery enamel is usually applied to the 363 “biscuit” surface of the ware in a raw state; that is, the compound has not been previously “run down” or vitrified in the crucible by heat, as is the case with enamelling upon metal, although, in most of the enamelled iron advertisement tablets, the enamel is in the raw state and is treated in a similar manner to that employed upon pottery.
ENAMEL (previously “amel,” which comes from the French amail, esmal, esmail, rooted in the Latin word smaltum, first mentioned in a 9th-century account of Leo IV.), is a term that specifically refers to the hard glass-like material that is “fused” onto the surfaces of metal objects for decoration or practical use. This material is a type of glass made from silica, minium, and potash, which is colored through the chemical reaction of different metallic oxides while it melts in the crucible. Over time, the meaning of the term has expanded to include the metal items that are coated with enamel, so nowadays, saying “an enamel” typically refers to an artwork made of enamel on metal. The composition of the enamel used on metal is not significantly different from that used on pottery and faience. However, they do differ in that the enamel for pottery is usually applied to the 363 “biscuit” surface in its raw form; that is, the compound hasn't been melted down or vitrified in the crucible like it is for metal enameling, even though most enamelled iron advertisement signs use enamel in its raw form and treat it similarly to how it's applied on pottery.
Examination of the enamels upon brick of the Assyrians shows that they were applied unvitrified. It was upon pottery and brick that the ancient Egyptians and Assyrians achieved their greatest work in enamelling. For as yet no work of such magnificence as the great enamelled walls of the palace of Rameses III. at Tell el-Yehudia in the Delta of the Nile, or the palace of Nimrod in Babylon, has been discovered upon metal of any kind. But there were gold ornaments and jewelry enamelled of noble design in opaque turquoise, cobalt, emerald green and purple, some of which can be seen at the British Museum and the Louvre. An example is shown in Plate I. fig. 3.
Examining the enamels on Assyrian bricks shows that they were applied without being fired. It was on pottery and brick that the ancient Egyptians and Assyrians created their most impressive works of enameling. So far, no artwork as magnificent as the great enamelled walls of Rameses III's palace at Tell el-Yehudia in the Nile Delta, or the palace of Nimrod in Babylon, has been found on any type of metal. However, there were gold ornaments and jewelry with beautifully designed enamel in opaque turquoise, cobalt, emerald green, and purple, some of which are displayed at the British Museum and the Louvre. An example can be seen in Plate I. fig. 3.
In the subsequent Greek and Roman civilizations enamel was also applied to articles of personal adornment. Many pieces of jewelry, exquisite in workmanship, have been found. But a greater application was made of it by the Greek sculptors in the 4th and 5th centuries B.C. For we find, in many instances, that not only were the eyes made of enamel—which (artistically speaking) is a somewhat doubtful manner of employing it,—as in the fine bronze head found at Anticythera (Cerigotto) in 1902, but in the colossal figure of Zeus for the temple at Olympia made by Pheidias the gold drapery was gorgeously enamelled with figures and flowers. This wonderful work by the greatest sculptor the world has ever seen was destroyed, as so many priceless works of art in enamel have been: doubtless on account of the precious metal upon which they were made. It was in all probability the crowning triumph of a long series of essays in this material. The art of ancient Rome lacked the inspiration of Greece, being mainly confined to copying Greek forms and style, and in the case of enamelling it did not depart from this attitude. But the Roman and Etruscan glass has many beautiful qualities of form and colour that do not seem entirely borrowed, and the enamel work upon them so far as we can discern is of graceful design and rich colour. No doubt, were it not, as has been remarked, for the fact that enamelling was generally done upon gold and silver, there would still be many works to testify to the art of that period. Such as there are, however, show a rare appreciation of enamel as a beautiful material. With the decline of this civilization the art of enamelling probably died out. For it has ever been one of those exquisite arts which exist only under the sunshine of an opulent luxurious time or sheltered from the rude winds of a poorer age by the affluence of patrons. The next time we hear of it is in an oft-quoted passage (c. A.D. 240) from the writings of the great sophist Philostratus, who says (Icones, i. 28):—“It is said that the barbarians in the ocean pour these colours into bronze moulds, that the colours become as hard as stone, preserving the designs,”—a more or less inaccurate description of the process of champlevé. This has been understood (from an interpretation given to a passage in the commentary on it by Olearius) to refer to the Celts of the British Islands. It also goes to prove that enamelling was not practised at this day in Greece. We have no British enamels to show so early as this, but belonging to a later period, from the 6th to the 9th century, a number of the finest gold and bronze ornaments, horse trappings, shields, fibulae and ciboria have been discovered of Celtic and Saxon make. The Saxon work has nothing to show so exquisitely wrought as that found in Ireland, where one or two pieces are to be seen now in the Dublin Museum, notably the Ardagh chalice and some gold brooches. In the chalice the enamel is of a minute inlaid character, and appears to have been made first in the form of a multi-colour bead, which was fused to the surface of its setting, and then polished down. Many of the pieces seem to have been made after this fashion, which does not speak very highly of the technical knowledge of enamelling, but it is none the less true enamelling of an elementary character. The shield at the British Museum has an inlay of red enamel which is remarkable in its quality. For centuries such a fine opaque red has not been discovered. An example of Irish work is shown in Plate II. fig. 10.
In later Greek and Roman civilizations, enamel was also used for personal adornment. Many beautifully crafted pieces of jewelry have been found. However, Greek sculptors in the 4th and 5th centuries BCE made even greater use of it. In many cases, the eyes were made of enamel, which is an artistically questionable way to use it—as seen in the fine bronze head discovered at Anticythera (Cerigotto) in 1902. In the colossal statue of Zeus created for the temple at Olympia by Pheidias, the gold drapery was richly enamelled with figures and flowers. This remarkable work by one of the greatest sculptors in history was destroyed, like many other priceless enamel works, likely due to the valuable materials used. It was probably the culmination of a long series of efforts in this medium. The art of ancient Rome lacked the creativity of Greece, mainly sticking to copying Greek styles, and when it came to enamelling, it didn’t stray from this approach. However, Roman and Etruscan glass has many beautiful forms and colors that seem somewhat original, and the enamelling we can see is of graceful design and vibrant color. Had it not been, as noted, that enamelling was typically done on gold and silver, many more works would testify to the art of that time. Those that do exist show a rare appreciation for enamel as a beautiful material. With the decline of this civilization, the art of enamelling likely faded away because it has always been one of those exquisite arts that thrive only during wealthy and luxurious times or are protected from the harsh realities of poorer eras by affluent patrons. The next reference to it comes from a well-known passage (c. CE 240) in the writings of the famous sophist Philostratus, who states (Icones, i. 28):—“It is said that the barbarians in the ocean pour these colors into bronze molds, causing the colors to harden like stone and preserve the designs”—a somewhat inaccurate description of the champlevé process. This has been interpreted (based on a commentary by Olearius) to refer to the Celts of the British Isles. It also suggests that enamelling wasn’t practiced in Greece at that time. We don’t have any British enamels from this early period, but from the later period of the 6th to the 9th century, a number of exquisite gold and bronze ornaments, horse trappings, shields, brooches, and ciboria have been found, made by the Celts and Saxons. Saxon work lacks the exquisite craftsmanship seen in Ireland, where a few pieces, such as the Ardagh chalice and some gold brooches, are displayed in the Dublin Museum. The chalice features a finely inlaid enamel, appearing to have been made first as multi-colored beads fused to the surface of the setting and then polished down. Many pieces seem to have been created this way, which doesn’t reflect very highly on the technical knowledge of enamelling, but they still represent elementary enamelling techniques. The shield at the British Museum has a remarkable inlay of red enamel. Such a fine opaque red hasn’t been discovered in centuries. An example of Irish work is shown in Plate II. fig. 10.
From Ireland the art was transferred to Byzantium, which is to be seen by the close resemblance of method, style, design and colour. The style and design changed in course of time, but the craft remained. It was at Byzantium that it flourished for several centuries.
From Ireland, the art moved to Byzantium, evident in the striking similarity of technique, style, design, and color. While the style and design evolved over time, the craftsmanship continued. It was in Byzantium that it thrived for several centuries.
![]() |
Fig. 1.—Byzantine Cloisonné Cross (c. 11th century) (South Kensington Museum). |
The finest work we know of belonging to this period is the Pala d’Oro at St Mark’s, Venice, believed to have been brought from Constantinople to Venice about 1105. This magnificent altar-piece is in cloisonné enamel. A typical example is the ciborium and chalice belonging to the South Kensington loan collection. The design entirely covers the whole of the surface in one rich mass composed of circular or vesica-shaped medallions filled with sacred subjects and foliated scrolls. These are engraved and enamelled, and the metal bands of the scrolls and figures are engraved and gilt. The characteristic quality of the colour scheme is that it is composed almost wholly of primaries. Red, blue and yellow predominate, with a little white and black. Occasionally the secondaries, green and purple, are used, but through the whole period of Byzantine enamelling there is a total absence of what to-day is termed “subtle colouring.” The arrangement of the enamels is also distinct, in that the divisions of the colours are not always made by the cloison, but are frequently laid in side by side without the adjoining colours mingling or running together whilst being melted. For instance, in a leaf pattern or in the drapery, the dress may be cobalt, heightened with turquoise or green. Thus it is interesting to observe that the artist employed the metal dividing lines frequently for the sake of aesthetic result, and was not much hampered by technical difficulties. This was the rule when opaque enamels were used. It is also worthy of remark that these opaque enamels differ from those in common use to-day, in that they are not nearly so opaque. This quality, together with a dull, instead of a highly polished surface, gives a much softer appearance to the enamels. Again, the whole tone of the enamels is darker and richer. Many examples of Byzantine work (see fig. 1.) are to be seen in the public and private art collections throughout Europe. They are principally upon ecclesiastical objects, missal covers, croziers, chalices, ciboria, pyx, candlesticks, crosses and tabernacles. In most instances the enamels are made in separate little plates rudely fastened with nails, screws or rivets to a metal or wooden foundation. Theophilus, a monk of the 13th century, describes the process of enamelling as it was understood by the Byzantines of his time, which probably differed but little from earlier methods. The design and drawing of the figures in Byzantine enamels is similar to the mosaic and carving. The figures are treated entirely as decorations, with scarcely ever the least semblance of expression, although here and there an intention of piety or sorrow is to be descried through the awkward postures in which they 364 are placed. In spite of this, the sense of decorative design, the simplicity of conception, the strength of the general character, and the richness of the colour, places this period as one of the finest which the art of enamelling has seen, and it leads us to lay stress upon the principle that the simplest methods in design and manipulation attain a higher end than those which are elaborate and intricate. It might be asserted with truth that this style never arrived at the degree of delicacy and refinement of later styles. But the refinement was often at the expense of higher qualities.
The best-known work from this period is the Pala d’Oro at St Mark’s in Venice, which is thought to have been brought from Constantinople to Venice around 1105. This stunning altar piece is made of cloisonné enamel. A typical example is the ciborium and chalice from the South Kensington loan collection. The design completely covers the entire surface in a rich mass composed of circular or vesica-shaped medallions filled with holy subjects and floral scrolls. These are engraved and enamelled, and the metal bands of the scrolls and figures are engraved and gilt. The color scheme is characterized by an almost exclusive use of primary colors. Red, blue, and yellow dominate, with some white and black. Occasionally, secondary colors like green and purple are used, but throughout the Byzantine enamel period, there is a complete absence of what we now call “subtle coloring.” The arrangement of the enamels is also distinct, as the color divisions aren’t always made by the cloison but are often laid side by side without mixing or blending together while being melted. For example, in a leaf pattern or drapery, the garment may be cobalt, enhanced with turquoise or green. It’s interesting to note that the artist often used the metal dividing lines for aesthetic purposes and was not overly restricted by technical challenges. This was customary when opaque enamels were used. It's noteworthy that these opaque enamels differ from those commonly used today, as they are not as opaque. This quality, combined with a duller rather than highly polished surface, gives a much softer appearance to the enamels. Additionally, the overall tone of the enamels is darker and richer. Many examples of Byzantine work (see fig. 1.) can be found in public and private art collections across Europe. They are mainly on ecclesiastical objects, such as missal covers, croziers, chalices, ciboria, pyxes, candlesticks, crosses, and tabernacles. In most cases, the enamels are made in separate small plates, roughly attached with nails, screws, or rivets to a metal or wooden base. Theophilus, a 13th-century monk, describes the enamelling process as understood by the Byzantines of his time, which likely did not differ much from earlier methods. The design and drawing of the figures in Byzantine enamels resemble mosaic and carving. The figures are treated purely as decorations, rarely expressing emotion, although sometimes a hint of piety or sorrow can be seen through their awkward postures. In spite of this, the decorative design, simplicity of conception, strength of overall character, and richness of color make this period one of the finest for the art of enamelling. It emphasizes the principle that simpler design and manipulation methods achieve a higher outcome than those that are elaborate and intricate. It could be truthfully said that this style never reached the delicacy and refinement of later styles. However, such refinement often came at the expense of greater qualities.
The next great application of these kinds of enamelling was at Cologne, for there we find not only the renowned work of Nicolas of Verdun, the altar front at Klosterneuberg, which consists of fifty plates in champlevé enamel, but in that Rhenish province there are many shrines of magnificent conception. From here the secrets of the craft were taken to Limoges, where the greatest activity was displayed, as numerous examples are found throughout England, France and Spain, which no doubt were made there (see Plate I. fig. 6.) But no new method or distinct advance is to be noticed, during these successive revivals at Byzantium, Cologne or Limoges, and it is to early 14th-century Italy that we owe one of the most beautiful developments, that of the process subsequently called basse-taille, which signifies a low-cut relief upon which transparent enamel is fused.
The next major use of these types of enameling was in Cologne, where we find not only the famous work of Nicolas of Verdun, the altar front at Klosterneuberg, which is made up of fifty plates in champlevé enamel, but also many beautifully designed shrines in that Rhenish region. From here, the secrets of the craft were taken to Limoges, where a lot of activity took place, as numerous examples can be found throughout England, France, and Spain, which were likely made there (see Plate I. fig. 6.). However, no new methods or significant advancements can be seen during these successive revivals in Byzantium, Cologne, or Limoges, and it is to early 14th-century Italy that we owe one of the most beautiful developments, the process later known as basse-taille, which means a low-cut relief onto which transparent enamel is applied.
In this process enamelling passed from a decorative to a fine art. For it demanded the highest knowledge of an artist with the consummate skill of both sculptor and enameller. Witness the superb gold cup, called the King’s Cup, now in the British Museum, and the silver cup at King’s Lynn. The first is in an excellent state of preservation, as it is upon gold, but the latter, like most of the ancient enamelling upon silver, has lost most of its enamel. This was due—as the present writer believes after much experiment—to the impurity of the silver employed. The King’s Cup is one of the finest works in enamelling extant. It consists of a gold cup and cover, hammered out of pure gold; and around the bowl, base and cover there are bands of figures, illustrating the scenes from the life of St Agnes. The hands and faces are of pale jasper, which over the carved gold gives a beautiful flesh tone. The draperies are in most resplendent ruby, sapphire, emerald, ivory, black and orange. The stem was subsequently altered by an additional piece inserted and enamelled with Tudor roses. It is a work of the 13th century, and belonged to Jean, duc de Berry, who gave it to his nephew, Charles VI. of France, in 1391. It afterwards came into the possession of the kings of England, from Henry VI. to James I., who gave it to Don Juan Velasco, constable of Castile. It was purchased by subscription with the aid of the treasury for the British Museum.
In this process, enameling transformed from a decorative art to a fine art. It required the highest expertise from an artist, combining the masterful skills of both a sculptor and an enameler. Take, for example, the stunning gold cup known as the King’s Cup, currently in the British Museum, and the silver cup located in King’s Lynn. The first is remarkably well-preserved because it’s made of gold, while the latter, like most ancient enameling on silver, has lost much of its enamel. This loss is attributed, as I believe after much experimentation, to the impurities in the silver used. The King’s Cup is one of the finest surviving examples of enameling. It consists of a gold cup and cover, crafted from pure gold; around the bowl, base, and cover, there are bands of figures depicting scenes from the life of St. Agnes. The hands and faces are made of pale jasper, which beautifully complements the carved gold, creating a lovely flesh tone. The draperies are in vivid hues of ruby, sapphire, emerald, ivory, black, and orange. The stem was later modified by adding an inserted piece that was enamelled with Tudor roses. This work dates back to the 13th century and was owned by Jean, duc de Berry, who gifted it to his nephew, Charles VI of France, in 1391. It eventually came into the possession of the English kings, from Henry VI to James I, who then gave it to Don Juan Velasco, the constable of Castile. It was purchased by subscription with support from the treasury for the British Museum.
Other well-known pieces are the silver horn in the possession of the marquess of Aylesbury, and the crozier of William of Wykeham at New College, Oxford. The discovery about the same time of the process called plique-à-jour forms another most interesting and beautiful development. Owing to the difficulty of its manufacture and its extreme fragility there are very few examples left. One of the finest specimens is now at the Victoria and Albert Museum, South Kensington. It is in the form of two bands of emerald green enamel which decorate a silver beaker. They are in the form of little stained glass windows, the cloisons forming (as it were) the leads. These fine cloisons and shapes are most correct in form, and the whole piece shows a perfection of craftsmanship rarely equalled.
Other well-known pieces include the silver horn owned by the Marquess of Aylesbury and the crozier of William of Wykeham at New College, Oxford. Around the same time, the discovery of the process called plique-à-jour represents another fascinating and beautiful development. Due to the difficulty in making it and its extreme fragility, very few examples remain. One of the finest specimens is now at the Victoria and Albert Museum in South Kensington. It features two bands of emerald green enamel decorating a silver beaker. They resemble little stained glass windows, with the cloisons acting as the leads. These delicate cloisons and shapes are perfectly formed, and the entire piece showcases an unparalleled level of craftsmanship.
The end of the 15th century saw a development in enamelling which was not only remarkable, but revolutionary in its method. For until then the whole theory of enamelling had been that it relied upon the enclosing edges of the metal or the cloison to hold it to the metal ground and in part to preserve it in the shape of the pattern, much in the same way as a setting holds a stone or a jewel. All the enamel before this date had been sunk into cells or cloisons. Two discoveries were made; first, that enamels could be made which require no enclosing ribbon of metal, but that merely the enamel should be fused on both sides of the metal object; secondly, that after an enamel had been fused to a surface of metal, another could be superimposed and fused to the first layer without any danger of separation from each or from the metal ground. It is true that such processes had been employed upon glass on which enamel had been applied, as well as upon pottery; and it is probably due to the influence of a knowledge of both enamelling upon metal and upon glass or pottery that the discovery was made.
The end of the 15th century marked a significant and revolutionary development in enamelling techniques. Until then, the entire concept of enamelling depended on the enclosing edges of the metal or the cloison to hold the enamel to the metal surface and to maintain the shape of the design, much like how a setting holds a stone or jewel. Prior to this, all enamel was set into cells or cloisons. Two key discoveries were made: first, that enamels could be created without needing a surrounding ribbon of metal, allowing the enamel to be fused directly onto both sides of the metal object; second, that after an enamel was fused onto a metal surface, another layer could be added and fused to the first without the risk of separation from either layer or the metal surface. While similar techniques had been used on glass and pottery, it's likely that the knowledge of both metal enamelling and glass or pottery influenced this breakthrough.
In most of these enamel paintings the subject was laid on with a white enamel upon a dark ground. The white was modulated; so that possessing a slight degree of translucency, it was grey in the thin parts and white in the thick. Thus was obtained a certain amount of light and shade. This gave the process called grisaille. But strange to say, it was not until a later period that this was practised alone, and then the modelling of the figures and draperies became very elaborate. At first it was only done in a slight degree, just sufficiently to give expression and to add to the richness of the form. For the enamellers were thinking of a plate upon which to put their wonderful colours, and not only of form. The painting in white was therefore invariably coloured with enamels. Probably the earliest painter in enamel was Nardon Pénicaud, many of whose works (one of them, dated 1503, is in the Cluny Museum) have been preserved with great care. He had many followers, the most distinguished of whom was Léonard Limosin (i.e. of Limoges). He excelled in portraiture. Examples of his work (between 1532 and 1574) are to be found in most of the larger public and private collections. Léonard Limosin and his Limoges contemporaries were very largely addicted to the employment of foil, which became too largely used, thus spoiling their otherwise fine serious work.
In most of these enamel paintings, the subject was applied using white enamel on a dark background. The white was varied; it had a slight translucency, appearing grey in the thinner areas and white in the thicker ones. This created a certain amount of light and shadow. This technique was called grisaille. Oddly enough, it wasn’t until a later time that this was used on its own, and then the modeling of the figures and drapery became very intricate. Initially, it was done only to a minimal extent, just enough to add expression and enhance the richness of the form. The enamellers were focused on creating a plate to showcase their beautiful colors, not just on form. Consequently, the white painting was consistently colored with enamels. The earliest enamel painter was probably Nardon Pénicaud, whose works (one dated 1503 is in the Cluny Museum) have been carefully preserved. He had many followers, the most notable being Léonard Limosin (i.e. of Limoges). He was particularly skilled in portrait painting. Examples of his work (from 1532 to 1574) can be found in most large public and private collections. Léonard Limosin and his contemporary Limoges artists often relied heavily on the use of foil, which became overused and detracted from their otherwise fine serious work.
The family of Jean Pénicaud, Jean Court de Vigier, Pierre Raymond and Pierre Courteys were all great names of artists who excelled in the grisaille process. Grisaille is similar to pâte-sur-pâte in pottery, and depends for its attractive quality entirely upon form and composition. No comparison should be made with enamels in colour, for they occupy a different category—similar to cameo.
The families of Jean Pénicaud, Jean Court de Vigier, Pierre Raymond, and Pierre Courteys were all well-known artists who excelled in the grisaille technique. Grisaille is similar to pâte-sur-pâte in pottery and relies entirely on form and composition for its appeal. It shouldn't be compared to colored enamels, as they belong to a different category—similar to cameos.
The casket shown in Plate II. fig. 9 is by Jean Pénicaud. It is a fine example of the enamelling in this style, very beautiful in colour. The hands and faces are in opaque white enamel; the draperies, garlands and flowers are in transparent green, turquoise blue, purple and cobalt over foil. The background is in transparent violet over white enamel ground, which is semé with gold stars. The draperies are also heightened with gold.
The casket shown in Plate II, fig. 9 is by Jean Pénicaud. It is a great example of enameling in this style, showcasing stunning colors. The hands and faces are made of opaque white enamel; the draperies, garlands, and flowers are done in transparent green, turquoise blue, purple, and cobalt over foil. The background features transparent violet over a white enamel base, which is sprinkled with gold stars. The draperies are also accented with gold.
One of the most marvellous pieces of brilliant craft is the missal cover (Plate I. fig. 5) at the South Kensington Museum, said to have belonged to Henrietta Maria, queen of Charles I. The subjects are the “Creation of Adam and Eve” and the “Fountain of Youth.” It is about 4 in. by 7 when opened out. The enamel is encrusted upon the figures, ornament and flowers which are beaten up in pure gold into high relief. The extraordinary minuteness and skill of handling, and the extreme brilliancy of the enamels, which are as brilliant to-day as on the day they were made, together form one of the unique specimens of art craftsmanship of the world. To the subdued taste of to-day, however, the effect is tawdry. The conception and design are also alike unworthy of the execution.
One of the most impressive pieces of craftsmanship is the missal cover (Plate I. fig. 5) at the South Kensington Museum, believed to have belonged to Henrietta Maria, wife of Charles I. The themes are the “Creation of Adam and Eve” and the “Fountain of Youth.” It measures about 4 inches by 7 inches when opened. The enamel is set on the figures, decorations, and flowers, which are molded in pure gold and raised in high relief. The incredible detail, skill in execution, and the vividness of the enamels, which shine just as brightly today as they did when created, combine to make it one of the world's unique examples of art craftsmanship. However, to today's more refined tastes, the overall effect seems gaudy. The concept and design also fall short of matching the quality of the execution.
Since the Assyrian and Egyptian civilizations, there has been a succession of luxurious developments followed by lapses into the decline and death of the art of enamelling upon metals. In each revival there has been something added to that which was known and practised before. The last revival took place five hundred years ago, accompanying the rebirth of learning and the arts; but after flourishing for over a century, the art gradually fell into disuse, and remained so until the recent revival and further development. The development consists, first, in the more complete knowledge of the technical processes, following upon the great advances which science has made; and secondly, in a finer and more subtly artistic treatment of them. The advance in technical knowledge comprises greater facility and perfection in the production of the substance enamel, 365 and its subsequent application to metal surfaces; more intimate knowledge of metals and their alloys to which it is applied, and greater ease in obtaining them from the metalliferous ores and reducing them to suitable dimensions and surfaces. For instance, it is now a simple matter to obtain perfectly pure copper by means of electricity. Again, formerly a flat sheet of metal was obtained by hammering, which involved an infinite amount of hard labour, whereas it is accomplished to-day with ease by means of flatting and rolling mills: i.e. after the metal has been obtained from the ore in the form of an ingot, it is stretched equally to any degree of thinness by steel rollers. Further, the furnaces have been greatly improved by the introduction of gas and electricity as the heating power, instead of the wood or charcoal employed.
Since the Assyrian and Egyptian civilizations, there has been a series of luxurious advancements followed by periods of decline and the eventual disappearance of the art of enameling on metals. Each revival has added something new to what was known and practiced before. The last revival happened five hundred years ago, coinciding with a resurgence in learning and the arts; however, after thriving for over a century, the art gradually fell out of favor and remained so until its recent revival and further development. This development includes, first, a deeper understanding of the technical processes, thanks to significant advancements in science; and second, a more refined and artistically subtle approach to these processes. The progress in technical knowledge involves greater ease and perfection in producing enamel and its subsequent application to metal surfaces; a better understanding of the metals and alloys being used, and greater convenience in sourcing them from ores and refining them to appropriate sizes and surfaces. For example, it is now straightforward to obtain perfectly pure copper using electricity. Previously, a flat sheet of metal was created through labor-intensive hammering, but today it’s easily done using flattening and rolling mills: that is, after the metal is extracted from the ore in the form of an ingot, it is uniformly stretched to any desired thinness using steel rollers. Additionally, furnaces have seen significant improvements with the introduction of gas and electricity as heat sources, replacing the use of wood or charcoal.
Plate I.
Plate 1.
|
|
Plate II.
Plate II.
![]() | |
Fig. 8.—OVERMANTEL (24 × 18½ in.) IN CHAMPLEVÉ ENAMEL ON SILVER. SUBJECT: THE GARDEN OF THE SOUL. BY ALEXANDER FISHER. | |
![]() |
![]() |
Fig. 9.—PAINTED ENAMEL CASKET BY JEAN PÉNICAUD. (16th century.) | Fig. 10.—CELTIC CHAMPLEVÉ ENAMELLED CROZIER. (Irish, 9th century.) |
In the manufacture of the substance enamel a much greater advance has been made, for whereas the colours, and consequently the schemes of colour, were extremely limited, we now possess an infinite gradation in the colours, as well as the transparency and opacity, the hardness and softness of enamels. There are only two colours which cannot yet be obtained; these are opaque vermilion and lemon yellow in a vitrified state. Many of the colours we now employ were not known by enamellers such as Léonard Limosin. Our enamels are also perfect in purity, brilliancy and durability, qualities which are largely due to the perfect knowledge of the proportion of parts composing an enamel and their complete combination. It is this complete combination, together with the absence of any destructible matter, which gives the enamel its lasting quality.
In making enamel, we've made significant progress. While colors and color schemes used to be very limited, we now have an endless range of colors, along with variations in transparency and opacity, as well as hardness and softness in enamels. There are only two colors we still can't produce: opaque vermilion and vitrified lemon yellow. Many colors we use today were unknown to enamellers like Léonard Limosin. Our enamels are also flawless in purity, brightness, and durability, thanks to our deep understanding of the right proportions of the components that make up enamel and how they fully combine. This perfect combination, along with the absence of any materials that can break down, gives the enamel its lasting quality.
The base of enamel is a clear, colourless, transparent vitreous compound called flux, which is composed of silica, minium and potash. This flux or base—termed fondant in France—is coloured by the addition of oxides of metals while in a state of fusion, which stain the flux throughout its mass. Enamels are either hard or soft, according to the proportion of the silica to the other parts in its composition. They are termed hard when the temperature required to fuse them is very high. The harder the enamel the less liable is it to be affected by atmospheric agencies, which in soft enamels produce a decomposition of the surface first and ultimately of the whole enamel. It is therefore advisable to use hard enamels in all cases. This involves the employment of pure—or almost pure—metals for the plates, which are in most respects the best to receive and retain the enamel. For if there is an excess of alloy, either the metal will possibly melt before the enamel is fused or afterwards they will part company. To the inferior quality of old silver may be attributed the fact that in all cases the enamel has flown off it; if it has not yet wholly disappeared it will scale off in time. It is therefore essential that metals should be pure and the enamels hard. It is also noteworthy that enamels composed of a great amount of soda or potash, as compared with those wherein red lead is in greater proportion, are more liable to crack and have less cohesion to the metals. It is better not to use silver as a base, although it is capable of reflecting a higher and more brilliant white light than any other metal. Fine gold and pure copper as thin as possible are the best metals upon which to enamel. If silver is to be used, it should be fine silver, treated in the methods called champlevé and cloisonné.
The base of enamel is a clear, colorless, transparent glass-like compound known as flux, which is made up of silica, red lead, and potash. This flux or base—called fondant in France—gets its color from the addition of metal oxides while it’s molten, which dye the flux throughout. Enamels can be either hard or soft, depending on the ratio of silica to the other ingredients in their makeup. They are classified as hard when they require a very high temperature to melt. The harder the enamel, the less it is affected by environmental factors, which can cause soft enamels to break down starting from the surface and eventually throughout the entire enamel. Therefore, it’s recommended to use hard enamels in all cases. This requires the use of pure—or nearly pure—metals for the plates, as they are generally the best for receiving and holding the enamel. If there is too much alloy, the metal might melt before the enamel fuses, or they may separate afterward. The poor quality of old silver is why enamel has often come off; if it hasn't fully chipped off yet, it will eventually. Thus, it is crucial for metals to be pure and for enamels to be hard. It’s also important to note that enamels with a high content of soda or potash, compared to those with a larger proportion of red lead, tend to crack more easily and have less adhesion to the metals. It’s better not to use silver as a base, even though it can reflect a brighter and whiter light than any other metal. Fine gold and pure copper, as thin as possible, are the best metals for enameling. If silver is to be used, it should be fine silver, treated using techniques called champlevé and cloisonné.
The brilliancy of the substance enamel depends upon the perfect combination and proportion of its component parts. The intimacy of the combination depends upon an equal temperature being maintained throughout its fusion in the crucible. For this purpose it is better to obtain a flux which has been already fused and most carefully prepared, and afterwards to add the colouring oxides, which stain it dark or light according to the amount of oxide introduced. Many of the enamels are changed in colour by the difference of the proportion of the parts composing the flux, rather than by the change of the oxides. For instance, turquoise blue is obtained from the black oxide of copper by using a comparatively large proportion of carbonate of soda, and a yellow green from the same oxide by increasing the proportionate amount of the red lead. All transparent enamels are made opaque by the addition of calx, which is a mixture of tin and lead calcined. White enamel is made by the addition of stannic and arsenious acids to the flux. The amount of acid regulates the density or opacity of the enamel.
The brilliance of enamel depends on the perfect combination and proportions of its components. The quality of this combination relies on maintaining an even temperature during its fusion in the crucible. To achieve this, it's best to use a flux that has already been fused and carefully prepared, then add the coloring oxides, which can darken or lighten the enamel based on the amount of oxide used. Many enamels change color due to the differing proportions of the flux components, rather than from changes in the oxides. For example, turquoise blue comes from black copper oxide when using a relatively large amount of sodium carbonate, while a yellow-green shade is produced by increasing the amount of red lead. All transparent enamels become opaque with the addition of calx, which is a mix of calcined tin and lead. White enamel is created by adding stannic and arsenious acids to the flux, with the amount of acid controlling the density or opacity of the enamel.
To elucidate the development which has occurred, it will be necessary to describe some of the processes. After the enamel has been procured in the lump, the next stage in the process, common to all methods of enamelling, is to pulverize it. To do this properly the enamel must first be placed in an agate mortar and covered with water; next, with a wooden mallet a number of sharp blows must be given to a pestle held vertically over the enamel, to break it; then holding the mortar firmly in the left hand, the pestle must be rotated with the right, with as much pressure as possible on the enamel, grinding it until the particles are reduced to a fine grain. The powder is then subjected to a series of washings in distilled water, until all the floury particles are removed. After this the metal is cleaned by immersion in acid and water. For copper, nitric acid is used; for silver, sulphuric, and for gold hydrochloric acid. All trace of acid is then removed, first by scratching with a brush and water, and finally by drying in warm oak sawdust. After this the pulverized enamel is carefully and evenly spread over those parts of the metal designed to receive it, in sufficient thickness just to cover them and no more. The piece is then dried in front of the furnace, and when dry is placed gently on a fire-clay or iron planche, and introduced carefully into the muffle of the furnace, which is heated to a bright pale red. It is now attentively watched until the enamel shines all over, when it is withdrawn from the furnace. The firing of enamel, unlike that of glass or pottery, takes only a few minutes, and in nearly all processes no annealing is required.
To explain the development that has taken place, we need to describe some of the processes. After the enamel has been obtained in solid form, the next step in the process, which is common to all enamelling techniques, is to grind it into a powder. To do this properly, the enamel must first be put into an agate mortar and covered with water. Then, using a wooden mallet, several sharp strikes should be delivered to a pestle held vertically over the enamel to break it apart. Next, while holding the mortar securely in the left hand, the pestle must be rotated with the right hand, applying as much pressure as possible on the enamel, grinding it until the particles are finely ground. The powder is then washed multiple times in distilled water until all the floury particles are cleaned away. After this, the metal needs to be cleaned by soaking it in acid and water. For copper, nitric acid is used; for silver, sulphuric acid; and for gold, hydrochloric acid. All traces of acid are then removed, first by scrubbing with a brush and water, and finally by drying it in warm oak sawdust. After this, the ground enamel is evenly spread over the parts of the metal that will receive it, in a thickness just enough to cover them, no more. The piece is then dried in front of the furnace, and once dry, it is carefully placed on a fire-clay or iron planche, and gently introduced into the muffle of the furnace, which is heated to a bright pale red. It is then closely monitored until the enamel shines all over, at which point it is taken out of the furnace. The firing of enamel, unlike glass or pottery, only takes a few minutes, and in nearly all methods, no annealing is needed.
The following are the different modes of enamelling: champlevé, cloisonné, basse-taille, plique-à-jour, painted enamel, encrusted, and miniature-painted. These processes were known at successive periods of ancient art in the order in which they are named. To-day they are known in their entirety. Each has been largely developed and improved. No new method has been discovered, although variations have been introduced into all. The most important are those connected with painted enamels, encrusted enamels and plique-à-jour.
The following are the different methods of enameling: champlevé, cloisonné, basse-taille, plique-à-jour, painted enamel, encrusted, and miniature-painted. These processes were recognized at different times in ancient art in the order they are listed. Today, they are fully understood. Each method has been significantly developed and improved. While no new methods have been discovered, variations have been introduced to all of them. The most significant are those related to painted enamels, encrusted enamels, and plique-à-jour.
Champlevé enamelling is done by cutting away troughs or cells in the plate, leaving a metal line raised between them, which forms the outline of the design. In these cells the pulverized enamel is laid and then fused; afterwards it is filed with a corundum file, then smoothed with a pumice stone and polished by means of crocus powder and rouge. An example is shown in Plate II. fig. 8.
Champlevé enameling is created by cutting out grooves or sections in the plate, leaving a raised metal line between them that outlines the design. In these sections, powdered enamel is added and then melted; afterward, it's shaped with a corundum file, smoothed with a pumice stone, and polished using crocus powder and rouge. An example is shown in Plate II. fig. 8.
In cloisonné enamel, upon a metal plate or shape, thin metal strips are bent to the outline of the pattern, then fixed by silver solder or by the enamel itself. These strips form a raised outline, giving cells as in the case of champlevé. The rest of the process is identical with that of champlevé enamelling. An example is shown in Plate I. fig. 4.
In cloisonné enamel, thin metal strips are shaped and bent to match the outline of the design on a metal plate or form, and are then secured with silver solder or by the enamel itself. These strips create a raised outline, forming cells similar to champlevé. The rest of the process is the same as champlevé enameling. An example is shown in Plate I. fig. 4.
The basse-taille process is also a combination of metal work in the form of engraving, carving and enamelling. The metal, either silver or gold, is engraved with a design, and then carved into a bas-relief (below the general surface of the metal like an Egyptian bas-relief) so that when the enamel is fused it is level with the uncarved parts of the design enamel, and the design shows through the transparent enamel.
The basse-taille process combines metalwork, including engraving, carving, and enameling. The metal, whether silver or gold, is engraved with a design and then carved into a bas-relief (set below the overall surface of the metal, similar to an Egyptian bas-relief) so that when the enamel is fused, it is flush with the uncarved areas of the design enamel, allowing the design to be visible through the transparent enamel.
Painted enamels are different from any of these processes both in method and in result. The metal in this case is either copper, silver or gold, but usually copper. It is cut with shears into a plate of the size required, and slightly domed with a burnisher or hammer, after which it is cleaned by acid and water. Then the enamel is laid equally over the whole surface both back and front, and afterwards “fired.” The first coat of enamel being fixed, the design is carried out, first by laying it in white enamel or any other which is opaque and most advantageous for subsequent coloration.
Painted enamels are different from any of these processes both in method and in result. The metal used is usually copper, but it can also be silver or gold. It is cut into a plate of the required size with shears and slightly dome-shaped using a burnisher or hammer. After that, it is cleaned with acid and water. Next, the enamel is evenly applied to both the front and back surfaces and then "fired." Once the first coat of enamel is set, the design is created by applying white enamel or another opaque color that works best for coloring later on.
In the case of a grisaille painted enamel the white is mixed with water or turpentine, or spike oil of lavender, or essential oil of petroleum (according to the taste of the artist) and the white is painted thickly in the light parts and thinly in the grey ones, 366 whereby a slight sense of relief is obtained and a great degree of light and shade.
In the case of a grisaille painted enamel, the white is blended with water or turpentine, or lavender spike oil, or essential petroleum oil (depending on the artist's preference), and the white is applied thickly in the lighter areas and thinly in the gray ones, 366 creating a subtle sense of relief and a high level of light and shadow.
In coloured painted enamels the white is coloured by transparent enamels spread over the grisaille treatment, parts of which when fired are heightened by touches of gold, usually painted in lines. Other parts can be made more brilliant by the use of foil, over which the transparent enamels are placed and then fired. An example is shown in Plate I. fig. 7.
In colored painted enamels, the white is tinted with transparent enamels applied over the grisaille technique, parts of which are enhanced with touches of gold after firing, typically painted in lines. Other areas can be made more vibrant using foil, which is then covered with transparent enamels and fired. An example is shown in Plate I. fig. 7.
Enamels by the plique-à-jour method might be best described as translucent cloisonné enamels; for they are similar to cloisonné, except that the ground upon which they are fired is removed, thus making them transparent like stained glass.
Enamels made using the plique-à-jour technique can be described as translucent cloisonné enamels. They are like cloisonné but differ because the base they are fired on is removed, which makes them transparent like stained glass.
Two new processes have been the subject of the present writer’s study and experiment for several years, which he has lately brought to fruition. The first is an inlay of transparent enamels similar to plique-à-jour without cloisons to divide the colours. For if enamels do not run together whilst in a melted state, as is seen in the case of painted and basse-taille enamels, there should be no necessity for it in this process. The result is a clear transparent subject in colour. The other process consists of a coloured enamel relief. It resembles the della Robbia relief, with this important difference, that the colour of the enamel by its nature permeates the whole depth of the relief, whereas in the della Robbia ware it is only on the surface. It also has a fresco surface, instead of one highly glazed. The quality of the enamel is as rare and unlike anything else as it is beautiful. It is in point of fact the only coloured sculpture in which the whole of its parts are one solid homogeneous mass, and through which the colour is one with the substance and is not applied. The process consists of the shapes of the various parts of the relief being selected for the different enamels, and these enamels melted together, in the mould of the relief, which is finished with lapidary’s tools.
Two new processes have been the focus of my study and experimentation for several years, which I have recently completed. The first is an inlay of transparent enamels similar to plique-à-jour but without cloisons to separate the colors. Since enamels don’t mix together when melted, which is seen in painted and basse-taille enamels, there’s no need for it in this technique. The end result is a clear, vibrant subject in color. The second process involves a colored enamel relief. It resembles the della Robbia relief, with the key difference being that the color of the enamel permeates the entire depth of the relief, while in della Robbia ware, the color is only on the surface. It also has a fresco-like surface instead of a highly glossy one. The quality of the enamel is as rare and unique as it is beautiful. It is, in fact, the only colored sculpture where all parts form one solid, homogeneous mass, and through which the color merges with the substance rather than being added on. The process involves selecting the shapes of the various parts of the relief for different enamels, which are then melted together in the relief mold, finished with lapidary’s tools.
Miniature enamel painting is not true enamelling, for after the white enamel is fired upon the gold plate, the colours used are not vitreous compounds—not enamels in fact—as is the case in any other form of metal enamelling; but they are either raw oxides or other forms of metal, with a little flux added, not combined. These colours are painted on the white enamel, and afterwards made to adhere to the surface by partially fusing the enamel, which when in a state of partial fusion becomes viscous.
Miniature enamel painting isn't actual enameling because, after the white enamel is fired onto the gold plate, the colors used aren't glassy compounds—not enamels, like in other types of metal enameling. Instead, they are either raw oxides or other metal forms, with a bit of flux added, but not mixed in. These colors are painted onto the white enamel and then get attached to the surface by partially melting the enamel, which becomes sticky when it's partially melted.
There are many of these so-called enamels to-day, which are much easier of accomplishment than the true enamel, but they possess none of the beautiful quality of the latter. It is most apparent when parts of a work are true enamels and parts are done in the manner described above. These enamel paintings on enamel are afterwards coated over with a transparent flux, which gives them a surface of enamel. Many are done in this way for the market.
There are many of these so-called enamels today, which are much easier to create than true enamel, but they lack the beautiful qualities of the latter. This difference is very clear when parts of a piece are true enamels and other parts are done in the described manner. These enamel paintings on enamel are then covered with a transparent flux, giving them an enamel-like surface. Many are made this way for the market.
All these methods were used formerly, before the present revival; but they were not so completely understood or carried so far as they are to-day. Nor were the whole methods practised by any artist as they are now. The greatest advance has been in painted enamels. This process requires that both sides of the metal plate shall be covered with enamel; for this reason the plate is made convex on the top, so that the concave side does not touch the planche on which it is supported for firing, but rests on its edges throughout. There are several reasons why these plates are bombé, the principal one being that in the firing they resist the tendency to warp and curl up at the edges as a flat thin plate would do. Further, the enamel having been fused to both sides is not so liable to crack or to splint in subsequent firings. This is most important, for otherwise the white which is placed on afterwards would be a network of cracks. The manner of firing has also to do with this, but not nearly so much as the preliminary care and mechanical perfection with which a plate is prepared. Nearly all the old enamels are seen to be cracked in the white if minutely examined. To obviate this the following points must be observed: The plate must be of an excellent quality of metal, equal in thickness throughout, and perfectly regular in shape. It must be arched equally from end to end. The first coat of enamel must be of a perfectly regular equal thickness on both sides, entirely covering the plate. Whatever the medium employed in painting the white on to the enamel, it must be completely evaporated before the plate is placed in the furnace. The furnace must be heated to a bright red heat, and the planche must be red-hot before being taken out for the enamel to be placed upon it, and then quickly returned to the furnace and the muffle door shut tight so as to allow no draught of cool air to enter it. Then as soon as it has begun to fuse, which if a small piece, it would do in a minute or so, the muffle door is slightly opened to afford a view of it. As soon as it shines all over its surface, it is withdrawn from the muffle.
All these methods were used in the past, before the current revival, but they weren't fully understood or developed as they are today. No artist practiced all the techniques as they do now. The biggest advancement has been in painted enamels. This process requires that both sides of the metal plate be coated with enamel. For this reason, the plate is shaped convex on top, so the concave side doesn't touch the planche where it's supported during firing, but instead rests on its edges. There are several reasons why these plates are bombé, the main one being that during firing, they resist warping and curling at the edges as a flat, thin plate would. Additionally, since the enamel is fused on both sides, it’s less likely to crack or splinter in later firings. This is crucial because otherwise, the white applied afterwards would be a mess of cracks. The firing method also plays a role, but not as much as the initial care and skill in preparing the plate. Almost all the old enamels show visible cracking in the white when examined closely. To avoid this, the following points must be followed: The plate needs to be made of high-quality metal, uniform in thickness throughout, and perfectly shaped. It must be evenly arched from end to end. The first coat of enamel must be a perfectly consistent thickness on both sides, completely covering the plate. Whatever medium is used to paint the white onto the enamel must be fully evaporated before placing the plate in the furnace. The furnace should be heated to a bright red heat, and the planche must be red-hot before being taken out to put the enamel on, then quickly returned to the furnace with the muffle door tightly shut to prevent any cool air from getting in. Once it starts to fuse, which for a small piece may take a minute or so, the muffle door is slightly opened to check on it. As soon as it shines evenly across the surface, it is taken out of the muffle.
![]() |
Fig. 2.—Modern French plique-à-jour bowl, by Fernand Thesmar. |
The method of laying a white upon the enamel ground is a matter of individual taste, so far as the medium is concerned. By some, pure distilled water is preferred to any other liquid for mixing the enamel. Otherwise, turpentine and the fat oil of turpentine, as well as spike oil of lavender. The oil mixture takes longer to dry, and thus gives a greater chance for modelling into fine shades than the water. But it has several drawbacks. Firstly, there is the difficulty of drying the oil out—a process which takes some time and increases the risk of cracking in the drying process; and secondly, the enamel is not so fresh and clear after it is fired as when pure water has been employed. Besides there is a great difference in the result; the water involves a quick, decided, direct touch and method, which carries with it its own charm. The oil medium, besides giving an effect of laborious rounded stippled surfaces, is apt partly to reduce the enamel, thus giving it a dull surface. The coloration of the white is comparatively simple and is done by transparent enamels finely ground and evenly spread over the white after the latter has been fused. The only danger to be avoided is that of over-firing, which is produced by too great heat of a prolonged duration of firing, which causes the stannic and arsenious acids in the white to volatilize.
The way of applying white on the enamel surface really comes down to personal preference when it comes to the medium. Some people prefer using pure distilled water over any other liquid for mixing the enamel. Others may choose turpentine, turpentine oil, or spike lavender oil. The oil mixture takes longer to dry, giving more opportunity to create fine shades than water does. However, it has a few disadvantages. First, drying out the oil takes a while and raises the risk of cracking during the drying process. Second, the enamel isn’t as fresh and clear after firing when pure water is not used. Additionally, the results differ significantly; using water leads to a quick, decisive, and direct approach, which has its own appeal. The oil medium, while creating a labor-intensive, rounded stippling effect, tends to dull the enamel instead. The coloring of the white is relatively straightforward and involves applying finely ground transparent enamels evenly over the white after it’s been fused. The main risk to avoid is over-firing, which occurs from excessive heat for too long during firing, causing the stannic and arsenious acids in the white to evaporate.
Plique-à-jour enamelling is done in the same way as cloisonné enamelling, except that the wires or strips of metal which enclose the enamel are not soldered to the metal base, but are soldered to each other only. Then these are simply placed upon a sheet of platinum, copper, silver, gold or hard brass, which, after the enamel is fused and sufficiently annealed and cooled, is easily removed. For small pieces of plique-à-jour there is no necessity to apply any metallic base, as the particles of enamel quickly fuse, become viscous, and when drawn out set quite hard. Neither is there any need for annealing, as would be the case in larger work. For an example, see fig. 2.
Plique-à-jour enameling is done just like cloisonné enameling, except that the wires or strips of metal that hold the enamel aren't soldered to the metal base; they are only soldered to each other. Then, these are simply placed on a sheet of platinum, copper, silver, gold, or hard brass, which can be easily removed after the enamel is fused, sufficiently annealed, and cooled. For small pieces of plique-à-jour, there's no need for a metallic base since the enamel particles quickly fuse, become viscous, and harden when drawn out. There's also no need for annealing, unlike in larger pieces. For an example, see fig. 2.
Commercially there has lately been an activity in enamels such as has never before occurred. This has been the case throughout Europe, Japan and the United States of America. In London there has been a demand for a cheap form of gaudy coloured enamel, fused into sunk spaces of metal obtained by stamping with a steel die; this has been applied to small objects 367 of cheap jewelry, in the form of brooches, bracelets and the like. There has also been a great demand for enamel watch-cases and small pendants, done mainly by hand, of a better class of work. Many of these have been produced in Birmingham, Berlin, Paris and London. In Paris copies of pictures in black and white enamel, with a little gold paint in the draperies and background, have been manufactured in very large quantities and sometimes of great dimensions. Another curious demand, followed by as astonishing a production, is that of the imitations (a harder name for which is “forgeries”) of old enamels, made with much skill, giving all the technical excellence of the originals, even to the cracks and scratches incidental to age. These are duly signed, and will deceive the most expert. They are copies of enamels by Nardon and Jean Pénicaud, Léonard Limosin, Pierre Raymond, Courtois and others. The same artificers also produce copies of old Chinese cloisonné and champlevé enamels, as well as old Battersea enamel snuff-boxes, patch-boxes, and indeed every kind of enamelling formerly practised. It is advisable for the collector never to purchase any piece of enamelling as the work of an old master without having a pedigree extending at least over forty years. From Japan there has been a continuous flow of cloisonné enamelled vases, boxes and plates, either entirely covered with enamel or applied in parts. Compared with this enormous output, only a few small pieces of jewelry have come from Jaipur and other towns in India. There has also been a great quantity of plique-à-jour enamelling manufactured in Russia, Norway and Sweden. And finally, it has been used in an unprecedented manner in large pieces upon iron and copper for purposes of advertisement.
Recently, there has been an unprecedented surge in the enamel market, seen across Europe, Japan, and the United States. In London, there's been a strong demand for inexpensive, brightly colored enamel that's fused into recessed metal shapes created by stamping with a steel die. This has been used on small items of affordable jewelry like brooches, bracelets, and similar pieces. There’s also been significant interest in high-quality enamel watch cases and small pendants, primarily made by hand. Many of these items have come from Birmingham, Berlin, Paris, and London. In Paris, large quantities of picture copies in black and white enamel, embellished with a bit of gold paint in the drapery and background, have been produced, sometimes in large sizes. Another intriguing trend has been the rise of imitations (or “forgeries”) of old enamels, crafted with great skill to replicate the technical quality of the originals, including the cracks and scratches that come with age. These pieces are signed and can easily fool even the most experienced collectors. They are reproductions of works by Nardon, Jean Pénicaud, Léonard Limosin, Pierre Raymond, Courtois, and others. The same artisans also replicate old Chinese cloisonné and champlevé enamels, as well as vintage Battersea enamel snuffboxes, patch boxes, and virtually every kind of enamel work once done. It's wise for collectors to avoid buying enamel pieces attributed to old masters unless they have a verified history for at least forty years. From Japan, there has been a steady influx of cloisonné enamel vases, boxes, and plates, either fully covered with enamel or partially applied. In contrast to this vast output, only a handful of small jewelry items have come from Jaipur and other Indian towns. Additionally, a significant amount of plique-à-jour enameling has been produced in Russia, Norway, and Sweden. Lastly, enameling is being used like never before in large pieces on iron and copper for advertising purposes.
Amongst the chief workers in the modern revival of this art are Claudius Popelin, Alfred Meyer, Paul Grandhomme, Fernand Thesmar, Hubert von Herkomer and Alexander Fisher. The work of Claudius Popelin is characterized by good technical skill, correctness, and a careful copying of the work of the old masters. Consequently it suffers from a lack of invention and individuality. His work was devoted to the rendering of mythological subjects and fanciful portraits of historical people. Alfred Meyer and Grandhomme are both accomplished and careful enamellers; the former is a painter enameller and the author of a book dealing technically with enamelling. Grandhomme paints mythological subjects and portraits in a very tender manner, with considerably more artistic feeling than either Meyer or Popelin. There is a specimen of his work in the Luxemburg Museum. Fernand Thesmar is the great reviver of plique-à-jour enamelling in France. Specimens of his work are possessed by the art museums throughout Europe, and one is to be seen in the Victoria and Albert Museum, London. They are principally valued on account of their perfect technical achievement. Lucien Falize was an employer of artists and craftsmen, and to him we are indebted for the production of specimens of basse-taille enamel upon silver and gold, as well as for a book reviewing the revival of the art in France, bearing particularly on the work of Claudius Popelin. Until within recent years there was a clear division between the art and the crafts in the system of producing art objects. The artist was one person and the workman another. It is now acknowledged that the artist must also be the craftsman, especially in the higher branches of enamelling. M. Falize initiated the production of a gold cup which was enamelled in the basse-taille manner. The band of figures was designed by Olivier Merson, the painter, and carved by a metal carver and enamelled by an enameller, both able craftsmen employed by M. Falize. Other pieces of enamelling in champlevé and cloisonné were also produced under his supervision and on this system; therefore lacking the one quality which would make them complete as an expression of artistic emotion by the artist’s own hands. M. René Lalique is among the jewellers who have applied enamelling to their work in a peculiarly technically perfect manner. In England, Professor Hubert von Herkomer has produced painted enamels of considerable dimensions, aiming at the execution of pictures in enamel, such as have been generally regarded as peculiar to the province of oil or water-colour painting. Among numerous works is a large shield, into which plaques of enamel are inserted, as well as several portraits, one of which, made in several pieces, is 6 ft. high—a portrait of the emperor William II. of Germany. The present writer rediscovered the making of many enamels, the secrets of which had been jealously guarded. He has worked in all these processes, developing them from the art side, and helping to make enamelling not only a decorative adjunct to metal-work, but raising it to a fine art. His work may be seen in the Victoria and Albert Museum, and Brussels Museum. Others who have been enamelling with success in various branches, and who have shown individuality in their work, are Mr John Eyre, Mrs Nelson Dawson, Miss Hart.
Among the main contributors to the recent revival of this art are Claudius Popelin, Alfred Meyer, Paul Grandhomme, Fernand Thesmar, Hubert von Herkomer, and Alexander Fisher. Claudius Popelin's work is marked by strong technical skill, precision, and careful imitation of the old masters. As a result, it lacks originality and personal style. He focused on depicting mythological themes and imaginative portraits of historical figures. Alfred Meyer and Grandhomme are both skilled and meticulous enamellers; Meyer is a painter enameller and the author of a technical book on enamelling. Grandhomme portrays mythological subjects and portraits in a delicate way, expressing significantly more artistic emotion than either Meyer or Popelin. One of his works is displayed at the Luxembourg Museum. Fernand Thesmar is the major reviver of plique-à-jour enamelling in France. His works can be found in art museums across Europe, including one at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. They are mainly valued for their perfect technical execution. Lucien Falize employed artists and craftsmen, and we owe him the creation of basse-taille enamel on silver and gold, as well as a book on the revival of the art in France, particularly highlighting Claudius Popelin's work. Until recently, there was a clear separation between art and craft in the creation of art objects. The artist and the craftsman were considered different individuals. It is now understood that the artist needs to be the craftsman as well, especially in high-level enamelling. M. Falize started the production of a gold cup enamelled in the basse-taille technique. The figures were designed by painter Olivier Merson, carved by a metalworker, and enamelled by a skilled enameller, all employed by M. Falize. Other enamelling pieces in champlevé and cloisonné were also produced under his direction using this method, thus lacking the quality that would make them a true expression of artistic emotion created by the artist’s own hands. M. René Lalique is among the jewellers who have uniquely and technically perfected the use of enamelling in their work. In England, Professor Hubert von Herkomer has created large painted enamels, aiming to execute images in enamel that were typically considered the domain of oil or watercolor painting. Among his many works is a large shield with enamel plaques, as well as several portraits, including a 6 ft. high work made of multiple pieces representing Emperor William II of Germany. The current writer has rediscovered the creation of various enamels, the techniques of which had been closely guarded. He has worked across all these processes, advancing them from an artistic perspective and elevating enamelling from merely a decorative addition to metalwork to a fine art. His works can be found in the Victoria and Albert Museum and the Brussels Museum. Others who have successfully worked in various areas of enamelling and have demonstrated individuality in their pieces include Mr. John Eyre, Mrs. Nelson Dawson, and Miss Hart.
Literature.—Among older books on enamelling, apart from the works of Neri and Benvenuto Cellini, are J.-P. Ferrand, L’Art du feu, ou de peindre en émail (1721); Labarte, Recherches sur la peinture en émail (Paris, 1856); Marquis de Laborde, Notice des émaux du Louvre (Paris, 1852); Reboulleau, Nouveau manuel complet de la peinture en verre, sur porcelaine et sur émail (ed. by Magnier, Paris, 1866); Claudius Popelin, L’Émail des peintres (Paris, 1866); Emil Molinier, Dictionnaire des émailleurs (1885). Among useful recent books are H. Cunynghame’s Art of Enamelling on Metals (1906); L. Falize, Claudius Popelin et la renaissance des émaux peints; L. Dalpayrat, Limoges Enamels; Alexander Fisher, The Art of Enamelling upon Metal (1906, “The Studio,” London).
Literature.—In addition to the works of Neri and Benvenuto Cellini, some older books on enamelling include J.-P. Ferrand, L’Art du feu, ou de peindre en émail (1721); Labarte, Recherches sur la peinture en émail (Paris, 1856); Marquis de Laborde, Notice des émaux du Louvre (Paris, 1852); Reboulleau, Nouveau manuel complet de la peinture en verre, sur porcelaine et sur émail (edited by Magnier, Paris, 1866); Claudius Popelin, L’Émail des peintres (Paris, 1866); and Emil Molinier, Dictionnaire des émailleurs (1885). Notable recent books include H. Cunynghame’s Art of Enamelling on Metals (1906); L. Falize, Claudius Popelin et la renaissance des émaux peints; L. Dalpayrat, Limoges Enamels; and Alexander Fisher, The Art of Enamelling upon Metal (1906, “The Studio,” London).
ENCAENIA, a festival commemorating a dedication, in Greek τὰ ἐγκαίνια (καινός, new), particularly used of the anniversary of the dedication of a church (see Dedication). The term is also used at the university of Oxford of the annual Commemoration, held in June, of founders and benefactors (see Oxford).
ENCAENIA, is a festival that celebrates a dedication, in Greek the inauguration (new, new), specifically associated with the anniversary of a church's dedication (see Dedication). The term is also used at the University of Oxford for the annual Commemoration, taking place in June, honoring founders and benefactors (see Oxford).
ENCAUSTIC PAINTING. The name encaustic (from the Greek for “burnt in”) is applied to paintings executed with vehicles in which wax is the chief ingredient. The term was appropriately applied to the ancient methods of painting in wax, because these required heat to effect them. Wax may be used as a vehicle for painting without heat being requisite; nevertheless the ancient term encaustic has been retained, and is indiscriminately applied to all methods of painting in wax. The durability of wax, and its power of resisting the effects of the atmosphere, were well known to the Greeks, who used it for the protection of their sculptures. As a vehicle for painting it was commonly employed by them and by the Romans and Egyptians; but in recent times it has met with only a limited application. Of modern encaustic paintings those by Schnorr in the Residenz at Munich are the most important. Modern paintings in wax, in their chromatic range and in their general effect, occupy a middle place between those executed in oil and in fresco. Wax painting is not so easy as oil, but presents fewer technical difficulties than fresco.
ENCAUSTIC PAINTING. The term encaustic (from the Greek for “burnt in”) refers to paintings made with wax as the main ingredient. This term is fitting for the ancient methods of painting with wax, as these involved heat to apply. Wax can be used as a medium for painting without heat; however, the ancient term encaustic has remained and is used for all wax painting techniques. The Greeks were well aware of wax's durability and its ability to withstand atmospheric effects, using it to protect their sculptures. They, along with the Romans and Egyptians, commonly used wax as a medium for painting; however, its contemporary use has been limited. Among modern encaustic paintings, those by Schnorr in the Residenz in Munich are the most significant. Modern wax paintings fall somewhere between oil and fresco in terms of color range and overall impact. Wax painting is more challenging than oil painting but has fewer technical hurdles than fresco painting.
Ancient authors often make mention of encaustic, which, if it had been described by the word inurere, to burn in, one might have supposed to have been a species of enamel painting. But the expressions “incausto pingere,” “pictura encaustica,” “ceris pingere,” “pictura inurere,” used by Pliny and other ancient writers, make it clear that some other species of painting is meant. Pliny distinguishes three species of encaustic painting. In the first they used a stylus, and painted either on ivory or on polished wood, previously saturated with some certain colour; the point of the stylus or stigma served for this operation, and its broad or blade end cleared off the small filaments which arose from the outlines made by the stylus in the wax preparation. In the second method it appears that the wax colours, being prepared beforehand, and formed into small cylinders for use, were smoothly spread by the spatula after the outlines were determined, and thus the picture was proceeded with and finished. By the side of the painter stood a brazier which was used to heat the spatula and probably the prepared colours. This is the method which was probably used by the painters who decorated the houses of Herculaneum and of Pompeii, as artists practising this method of painting are depicted in the decorations. The third method was by painting by a brush dipped into wax liquefied by heat; the colours so applied attained considerable hardness, and could not be damaged either by the heat of the sun or by the effects of sea-water. It was thus that ships were 368 decorated; and this kind of encaustic was therefore styled “ship-painting.”
Ancient authors often mention encaustic, which, if referred to as inurere, meaning to burn in, might have been thought to be a type of enamel painting. However, the phrases “incausto pingere,” “pictura encaustica,” “ceris pingere,” and “pictura inurere,” used by Pliny and other ancient writers, clarify that a different kind of painting is meant. Pliny identifies three types of encaustic painting. In the first method, a stylus was used to paint on either ivory or polished wood that had been pre-treated with a specific color; the tip of the stylus served this purpose, while its broader end removed the small filaments that formed along the outlines created by the stylus in the wax. In the second method, it seems that the wax colors were prepared in advance and shaped into small cylinders for use, which were then spread smoothly with a spatula after the outlines were decided, thus allowing the picture to be developed and completed. Next to the painter was a brazier used to heat the spatula and likely the prepared colors as well. This is the method that was probably employed by the painters who decorated the houses of Herculaneum and Pompeii, as artists using this technique are depicted in the frescoes. The third method involved painting with a brush dipped in wax that had been melted by heat; the colors applied in this way became quite durable and could withstand both sunlight and seawater. This technique was used to decorate ships, and this style of encaustic was therefore referred to as “ship-painting.” 368
About the year 1749 Count Caylus and J.J. Bachelier, a painter, made some experiments in encaustic painting, and the count undertook to explain an obscure passage in Pliny, supposed to be the following (xxxv. 39):—“Ceris pingere ac picturam inurere quis primus excogitaverit non constat. Quidam Aristidis inventum putant, postea consummatum a Praxitele; sed aliquanto vetustiores encausticae picturae exstitere, ut Polygnoti et Nicanoris et Arcesilai Pariorum. Lysippus quoque Aeginae picturae suae inscripsit ἐνέκαυσεν, quod profecto non fecisset nisi encaustica inventa.” There are other passages in Pliny bearing upon this subject, in one of which (xxi. 49) he gives an account of the preparation of “Punica cera.” The nature of this Punic wax, which was the essential ingredient of the ancient painting in encaustic, has not been definitely ascertained. The chevalier Lorgna, who investigated the subject in a small but valuable tract, asserts that the nitron which Pliny mentions is not the nitre of the moderns, but the natron of the ancients, viz. the native salt which is found crystallized in Egypt and other hot countries in sands surrounding lakes of salt water. This substance the Carthaginians, according to Pliny, used in preparing their wax, and hence the name Punic seems to be derived. Lorgna made a number of experiments with this salt, using from three to twenty parts of white melted wax with one of natron. He held the mixture in an iron vessel over a slow fire, stirring it gently with a wooden spatula, till the mass assumed the consistency of butter and the colour of milk. He then removed it from the fire, and put it in the shade in the open air to harden. The wax being cooled liquefied in water, and a milky emulsion resulted from it like that which could be made with the best Venetian soap.
Around 1749, Count Caylus and J.J. Bachelier, a painter, conducted some experiments with encaustic painting. The count took on the task of interpreting an obscure passage in Pliny, believed to be the following (xxxv. 39):—“It's unclear who first invented painting with wax and burning in the painting. Some think it was Aristides, later perfected by Praxiteles; however, there were encaustic paintings from much earlier, like those of Polygnotus, Nicanor, and Arcesilaus of Paros. Lysippus also noted in his painting from Aegina burned, which he surely wouldn’t have done unless encaustic was invented.” There are other passages in Pliny on this topic, one of which (xxi. 49) describes how to prepare “Punica cera.” The exact nature of this Punic wax, which was crucial for ancient encaustic painting, has not been clearly determined. Chevalier Lorgna, who looked into the topic in a small but valuable booklet, claims that the nitron mentioned by Pliny is not modern nitre, but the ancient natron, a naturally occurring salt found crystallized in Egypt and other hot regions in sands around saltwater lakes. According to Pliny, the Carthaginians used this substance to prepare their wax, which is likely the origin of the term Punic. Lorgna conducted several experiments with this salt, combining between three to twenty parts of white melted wax with one part of natron. He heated the mixture in an iron vessel over a slow fire, stirring gently with a wooden spatula until it reached the consistency of butter and the color of milk. He then removed it from the fire and left it in the shade outdoors to harden. Once cooled, the wax melted in water, creating a milky emulsion similar to that which can be made with the finest Venetian soap.
Experiments, it is said, were made with this wax in painting in encaustic in the apartments of the Count Giovanni Battista Gasola by the Italian painter Antonio Paccheri, who dissolved the Punic wax when it was not so much hardened as to require to be “igni resoluta,” as expressed by Pliny, with pure water slightly infused with gum-arabic, instead of sarcocolla, mentioned by Pliny. He afterwards mixed the colours with this wax so liquefied as he would have done with oil, and proceeded to paint in the same manner; nor were the colours seen to run or alter in the least; and the mixture was so flexible that the pencil ran smoother than it would have done with oil. The painting being dry, he treated it with caustic, and rubbed it with linen cloths, by which the colours acquired peculiar vivacity and brightness.
Experiments were conducted using this wax for encaustic painting in the rooms of Count Giovanni Battista Gasola by the Italian painter Antonio Paccheri. He dissolved the Punic wax when it wasn’t too hard and didn’t need to be “igni resoluta,” as Pliny put it, using pure water mixed with a bit of gum-arabic instead of the sarcocolla mentioned by Pliny. He then mixed the colors with this liquefied wax just like he would with oil and started painting in the same way; the colors didn’t run or change at all, and the mixture was so flexible that the brush moved more smoothly than it would with oil. Once the painting was dry, he treated it with caustic and rubbed it with linen cloths, which made the colors particularly vivid and bright.
About the year 1755 further experiments were made by Count Caylus and several French artists. One method was to melt wax with oil of turpentine as a vehicle for the colours. It is well known that wax may be dissolved in spirit and used as a medium, but it dries too quickly to allow of perfect blending, and would by the evaporation of the spirit be prejudicial to the artist’s health. Another method suggested about this time, and one which seems to tally very well with Pliny’s description, is the following. Melt the wax with strong solution of salt of tartar, and let the colours be ground up in it. Place the picture when finished before the fire till by degrees the wax melts, swells, and is bloated up upon the picture; the picture is then gradually removed from the fire, and the colours, without being injuriously affected by the operation of the fire, become unalterable, spirits of wine having been burnt upon them without doing the least harm. Count Caylus’s method was different, and much simpler: (1) the cloth or wood designed for the picture is waxed over, by rubbing it simply with a piece of beeswax; (2) the colours are mixed up with pure water; but as these colours will not adhere to the wax, the whole ground must be rubbed over with chalk or whiting before the colour is applied; and (3) when the picture is dry it is put near the fire, whereby the wax is melted and absorbs the colours. It must be allowed that nothing could well be simpler than this process, and it was thought that this kind of painting would be capable of withstanding the weather and of lasting longer than oil painting. This kind of painting has not the gloss of oil painting, so that the picture may be seen in any light, a quality of the very first importance in all methods of mural painting. The colours too, when so secured, are firm, and will bear washing, and have a property which is perhaps more important still, viz. that exposure to smoke and foul vapours merely leaves a deposit on the surface without injuring the work. The “encausto pingendi” of the ancients could not have been enamelling, as the word “inurere,” taken in its rigorous sense, might at first lead one to suppose, nor could it have been painting produced in the same manner as encaustic tiles or encaustic tesserae; but that it must have been something akin to the count’s process would appear from the words of Pliny already quoted, “Ceris pingere ac picturam inurere.”
Around 1755, Count Caylus and various French artists conducted further experiments. One approach involved melting wax with turpentine oil as a medium for the colors. It’s well-known that wax can be dissolved in spirits and used as a medium, but it dries too quickly for perfect blending and the evaporation of the spirits can harm the artist’s health. Another method suggested around this time, which aligns well with Pliny’s description, is as follows: Melt the wax with a strong solution of salt of tartar and grind the colors into it. Once the painting is finished, place it near a fire until the wax gradually melts and swells onto the picture; then remove it from the fire slowly, and the colors, unaffected by the heat, become permanent, even after burning spirits on them without harm. Count Caylus’s method was different and much simpler: (1) the cloth or wood for the painting is coated with wax by rubbing it with beeswax; (2) the colors are mixed with clean water, but since they won’t stick to the wax, the surface must be rubbed with chalk or whiting before applying the color; and (3) once the painting is dry, it’s placed near the fire, causing the wax to melt and absorb the colors. It must be acknowledged that this process couldn’t be simpler, and it was believed that this type of painting would withstand the weather and last longer than oil painting. This painting method doesn’t have the gloss of oil painting, allowing the picture to be viewed in any light, which is crucial for all mural painting techniques. The colors, when set in this way, are durable, can withstand washing, and have the added benefit of being unaffected by smoke and foul vapors, leaving only a deposit on the surface without damaging the artwork. The “encausto pingendi” of the ancients couldn’t have meant enameling, as the word “inurere” might initially suggest, nor could it refer to painting done in the same manner as encaustic tiles or tesserae; rather, it seems to have been something similar to the Count’s method, as indicated by Pliny’s words, “Ceris pingere ac picturam inurere.”
Werner of Neustadt found the following process very effectual in making wax soluble in water. For each pound of white wax he took twenty-four ounces of potash, which he dissolved in two pints of water, warming it gently. In this ley he boiled the wax, cut into little bits, for half an hour, after which he removed it from the fire and allowed it to cool. The wax floated on the surface of the liquor in the form of a white saponaceous matter; and this being triturated with water produced a sort of emulsion, which he called wax milk, or encaustic wax. This preparation may be mixed with all kinds of colours, and consequently can be applied in a single operation.
Werner of Neustadt found the following method very effective for making wax soluble in water. For each pound of white wax, he used twenty-four ounces of potash, which he dissolved in two pints of water, gently warming it. In this solution, he boiled the wax, cut into small pieces, for half an hour, after which he removed it from the heat and let it cool. The wax floated on the surface of the liquid as a white, soapy substance; and when this was mixed with water, it created a type of emulsion that he called wax milk, or encaustic wax. This preparation can be mixed with all sorts of colors and therefore can be applied in a single step.
Mrs Hooker of Rottingdean, at the end of the 18th century, made many experiments to establish a method of painting in wax, and received a gold palette from the Society of Arts for her investigations in this branch of art. Her account is printed in the tenth volume of the Society’s Transactions (1792), under the name of Miss Emma Jane Greenland.
Mrs. Hooker of Rottingdean, at the end of the 18th century, conducted many experiments to develop a method for painting with wax and received a gold palette from the Society of Arts for her research in this field. Her account is published in the tenth volume of the Society’s Transactions (1792), under the name of Miss Emma Jane Greenland.
See also Lorgna, Un Discorso sulla cera punica; Pittore Vicenzo Requeno, Saggi sul ristabilimento dell’ antica arte de’ Greci e Romani (Parma, 1787); Phil. Trans. vol. xlix. part 2; Muntz on Encaustic Painting; W. Cave Thomas, Methods of Mural Decoration (London, 1869); Cros and Henry, L’Encaustique, &c. (1884); Donner von Richter, Über Technisches in der Malerei der Alten (1885).
See also Lorgna, Un Discorso sulla cera punica; Pittore Vicenzo Requeno, Saggi sul ristabilimento dell’antica arte de’ Greci e Romani (Parma, 1787); Phil. Trans. vol. xlix. part 2; Muntz on Encaustic Painting; W. Cave Thomas, Methods of Mural Decoration (London, 1869); Cros and Henry, L’Encaustique, &c. (1884); Donner von Richter, Über Technisches in der Malerei der Alten (1885).
ENCEINTE (Lat. in, within, cinctus, girdled; to be distinguished from the word meaning “pregnant,” from in, not, and cinctus, i.e. with girdle loosened), a French term used technically in fortification for the inner ring of fortifications surrounding a town. Strictly the term was applied to the continuous line of bastions and curtains forming the “body of the place,” this last expression being often used as synonymous with enceinte. The outworks, however, close to the enceinte were not considered as forming part of it. In modern fortification the enceinte is usually simply the innermost continuous line of fortifications. In architecture generally an enceinte is the close or precinct of a cathedral, abbey, castle, &c.
ENCEINTE (From Latin in, within, cinctus, girdled; to be distinguished from the word meaning “pregnant,” which comes from in, not, and cinctus, meaning with girdle loosened), a French term used specifically in fortification for the inner ring of defenses surrounding a town. The term strictly referred to the continuous line of bastions and walls that made up the “body of the place,” with this last expression often being used interchangeably with enceinte. However, the outworks that were close to the enceinte were not considered part of it. In modern fortifications, the enceinte typically refers to the innermost continuous line of defenses. In general architecture, an enceinte is the enclosed or precinct area of a cathedral, abbey, castle, etc.
ENCINA, JUAN DEL (1469-c. 1533), often called the founder of the Spanish drama, was born in 1469 near Salamanca probably at Encinas. On leaving the university of Salamanca he became a member of the household of the second duke of Alva. In 1492 the poet entertained his patron with a dramatic piece, the Triunfo de la fama, written to commemorate the fall of Granada. In 1496 he published his Cancionero, a collection of dramatic and lyrical poems. Some years afterwards he visited Rome, attracted the attention of Alexander VI. by his skill in music, and was appointed choirmaster. About 1518 Encina took orders, and made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, where he said his first mass. Since 1509 he had held a lay canonry at Malaga; in 1519 he was appointed prior of Leon and is said to have died at Salamanca about 1533. His Cancionero is preceded by a prose treatise (Arte de trobar) on the condition of the poetic art in Spain. His fourteen dramatic pieces mark the transition from the purely ecclesiastical to the secular stage. The Aucto del Repelón and the Égloga de Fileno dramatize the adventures of shepherds; the latter, like Plácida y Vitoriano, is strongly influenced by the Celestina. The intrinsic interest of Encina’s plays is slight, but they are important from the historical point of view, for the lay pieces form a new departure, and the devout eclogues prepare the way for the autos of the 17th century. Moreover, Encina’s 369 lyrical poems are remarkable for their intense sincerity and devout grace.
ENCINA, JUAN DEL (1469-c. 1533), often referred to as the founder of Spanish drama, was born in 1469 near Salamanca, likely at Encinas. After leaving the University of Salamanca, he became a member of the household of the second Duke of Alva. In 1492, the poet entertained his patron with a dramatic piece, the Triunfo de la fama, written to commemorate the fall of Granada. In 1496, he published his Cancionero, a collection of dramatic and lyrical poems. A few years later, he visited Rome, caught the attention of Alexander VI. with his musical talent, and was appointed choirmaster. Around 1518, Encina was ordained and went on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, where he celebrated his first mass. Since 1509, he had held a lay canonry in Malaga; in 1519, he was appointed prior of Leon and is believed to have died in Salamanca around 1533. His Cancionero is preceded by a prose treatise (Arte de trobar) discussing the state of poetic art in Spain. His fourteen dramatic works signify the shift from purely religious to secular theater. The Aucto del Repelón and the Égloga de Fileno depict the adventures of shepherds; the latter, like Plácida y Vitoriano, is heavily influenced by the Celestina. While the intrinsic appeal of Encina’s plays is minimal, they hold historical significance as the secular pieces mark a new direction, and the religious eclogues lay the groundwork for the autos of the 17th century. Additionally, Encina’s lyrical poems stand out for their deep sincerity and devotional grace.
Bibliography.—Teatro completo de Juan del Encina (Madrid, 1893), edited by F. Asenjo Barbieri; Cancionero musical de los siglos XV y XVI (Madrid, 1894), edited by F. Asenjo Barbieri; R. Mitjana, Sobre Juan del Encina, músico y poeta (Málaga, 1895); M. Menendez y Pelayo, Antologia depoetas liricos castellanos (Madrid, 1890-1903), vol. vii.
References.—Complete Works of Juan del Encina (Madrid, 1893), edited by F. Asenjo Barbieri; Musical Songbook of the 15th and 16th Centuries (Madrid, 1894), edited by F. Asenjo Barbieri; R. Mitjana, About Juan del Encina, Musician and Poet (Málaga, 1895); M. Menendez y Pelayo, Anthology of Castilian Lyric Poets (Madrid, 1890-1903), vol. vii.
ENCKE, JOHANN FRANZ (1791-1865), German astronomer, was born at Hamburg on the 23rd of September 1791. Matriculating at the university of Göttingen in 1811, he began by devoting himself to astronomy under Carl Friedrich Gauss; but he enlisted in the Hanseatic Legion for the campaign of 1813-14, and became lieutenant of artillery in the Prussian service in 1815. Having returned to Göttingen in 1816, he was at once appointed by Benhardt von Lindenau his assistant in the observatory of Seeberg near Gotha. There he completed his investigation of the comet of 1680, for which the Cotta prize was awarded to him in 1817; he correctly assigned a period of 71 years to the comet of 1812; and discovered the swift circulation of the remarkable comet which bears his name (see Comet). Eight masterly treatises on its movements were published by him in the Berlin Abhandlungen (1829-1859). From a fresh discussion of the transits of Venus in 1761 and 1769 he deduced (1822-1824) a solar parallax of 8″.57, long accepted as authoritative. In 1822 he became director of the Seeberg observatory, and in 1825 was promoted to a corresponding position at Berlin, where a new observatory, built under his superintendence, was inaugurated in 1835. He directed the preparation of the star-maps of the Berlin academy 1830-1859, edited from 1830 and greatly improved the Astronomisches Jahrbuch, and issued four volumes of the Astronomische Beobachtungen of the Berlin observatory (1840-1857). Much labour was bestowed by him upon facilitating the computation of the movements of the asteroids. With this end in view he expounded to the Berlin academy in 1849 a mode of determining an elliptic orbit from three observations, and communicated to that body in 1851 a new method of calculating planetary perturbations by means of rectangular co-ordinates (republished in W. Ostwald’s Klassiker der exacten Wissenschaften, No. 141, 1903). Encke visited England in 1840. Incipient brain-disease compelled him to withdraw from official life in November 1863, and he died at Spandau on the 26th of August 1865. He contributed extensively to the periodical literature of astronomy, and was twice, in 1823 and 1830, the recipient of the Royal Astronomical Society’s gold medal.
ENCKE, JOHANN FRANZ (1791-1865), a German astronomer, was born in Hamburg on September 23, 1791. He enrolled at the University of Göttingen in 1811, where he focused on astronomy under Carl Friedrich Gauss. However, he joined the Hanseatic Legion for the campaign of 1813-14 and became a lieutenant of artillery in the Prussian army in 1815. After returning to Göttingen in 1816, he was immediately appointed by Benhardt von Lindenau as his assistant at the observatory in Seeberg near Gotha. There, he completed his research on the comet of 1680, which earned him the Cotta prize in 1817; he accurately assigned a 71-year period to the comet of 1812 and discovered the fast rotation of the famous comet that carries his name (see Comet). He published eight insightful papers on its movements in the Berlin Abhandlungen (1829-1859). From a new analysis of the transits of Venus in 1761 and 1769, he derived (1822-1824) a solar parallax of 8″.57, which was long regarded as authoritative. In 1822, he became the director of the Seeberg observatory, and in 1825 he was promoted to a similar position in Berlin, where a new observatory he oversaw was inaugurated in 1835. He directed the creation of the star maps for the Berlin Academy from 1830 to 1859, edited and significantly improved the Astronomisches Jahrbuch starting in 1830, and published four volumes of the Astronomische Beobachtungen from the Berlin observatory (1840-1857). He worked hard to simplify the calculations of asteroid movements. To this end, he presented a method for determining an elliptical orbit from three observations to the Berlin Academy in 1849, and in 1851, he introduced a new technique for calculating planetary perturbations using rectangular coordinates (reprinted in W. Ostwald’s Klassiker der exacten Wissenschaften, No. 141, 1903). Encke visited England in 1840. A developing brain disease forced him to retire from official duties in November 1863, and he passed away in Spandau on August 26, 1865. He made significant contributions to astronomical periodicals and received the Royal Astronomical Society’s gold medal twice, in 1823 and 1830.
See Johann Franz Encke, sein Leben und Wirken, von Dr C. Bruhns (Leipzig, 1869), to which a list of his writings is appended. Also, Month. Notices Roy. Astr. Society, xxvi. 129; V.J.S. Astr. Gesellschaft, iv. 227; Berlin. Abhandlungen (1866), i., G. Hagen; Sitzungsberichte, Munich Acad. (1866), i. p. 395, &c.
See Johann Franz Encke, His Life and Work, by Dr. C. Bruhns (Leipzig, 1869), which includes a list of his writings. Also, Monthly Notices of the Royal Astronomical Society, xxvi. 129; V.J.S. Astronomical Society, iv. 227; Berlin. Transactions (1866), i., G. Hagen; Proceedings, Munich Academy (1866), i. p. 395, etc.
ENCLAVE (a French word from enclaver, to enclose), a term signifying a country or, more commonly, an outlying portion of a country, entirely surrounded by the territories of a foreign or other power, such as the detached portions of Prussia, Saxony, &c, enclosed in the Thuringian States. (From the point of view of the states possessing such detached portions of territory these become “exclaves.”) “Enclave” is, however, generally used in a looser sense to describe a colony or other territory of a state, which, while possessing a seaboard, is entirely surrounded landward by the possession of some other power; or, if inland territory, nearly though not entirely so enclosed, e.g. the Lado Enclave in equatorial Africa.
ENCLAVE (a French word from enclaver, to enclose) refers to a country or, more commonly, a section of a country that is completely surrounded by the territory of a foreign power, like the detached parts of Prussia, Saxony, etc., enclosed within the Thuringian States. From the perspective of the states that own these detached areas, they are known as “exclaves.” However, “enclave” is often used in a broader sense to talk about a colony or other territory of a state that has a coastline but is completely surrounded on land by another power; or, if it’s an inland area, it is nearly but not completely enclosed, e.g. the Lado Enclave in equatorial Africa.
ENCOIGNURE, in furniture, literally the angle, or return, formed by the junction of two walls. The word is now chiefly used to designate a small armoire, commode, cabinet or cupboard made to fit a corner; a chaise encoignure is called in English a three-cornered chair. In its origin the thing, like the word, is French, and the delightful Louis Quinze or Louis Seize encoignure in lacquer or in mahogany elaborately mounted in gilded bronze is not the least alluring piece of the great period of French furniture. It was made in a vast variety of forms so far as the front was concerned; in other respects it was strictly limited by its destination. As a rule these delicate and dainty receptacles were in pairs and placed in opposite angles; more often than not the top was formed of a slab of coloured marble.
ENCOIGNURE, in furniture, literally the angle or return, created by the meeting of two walls. The term is now mainly used to refer to a small armoire, commode, cabinet, or cupboard designed to fit into a corner; a chaise encoignure is called in English a three-cornered chair. Originally, both the object and the word are French, and the charming Louis Quinze or Louis Seize encoignure in lacquer or mahogany with elaborate gilded bronze mounts is one of the most attractive pieces from the great era of French furniture. It was made in a wide variety of styles regarding the front; however, it was quite limited by its purpose. Generally, these delicate and elegant pieces were made in pairs and positioned in opposite corners; more often than not, the top was made from a slab of colorful marble.
ENCYCLICAL (from Late Lat. encyclicus, for encyclius = Gr. ἐγκύκλιος, from ἐν and κύκλος, “a circle”), an ecclesiastical epistle intended for general circulation, now almost exclusively used of such letters issued by the pope. The forms encyclica and encyclic are sometimes, but more rarely, used. The old adjectival use of the word in the sense of “general” (encircling) is now obsolete, though it survives in the term “encyclopaedia.”
ENCYCLICAL (from Late Lat. encyclicus, meaning encyclius = Gr. circular, from ἐν and circle, “a circle”), is an ecclesiastical letter meant for general distribution, now almost exclusively referring to letters issued by the pope. The terms encyclica and encyclic are occasionally used, but less commonly. The older adjectival meaning of the word as “general” (encircling) is now outdated, although it still exists in the term “encyclopaedia.”
ENCYCLOPAEDIA. The Greeks seem to have understood by encyclopaedia (ἐγκυκλοπαιδεία, or ἐγκύκλιος παιδεία) instruction in the whole circle (ἐν κυκλῷ) or complete system of learning—education in arts and sciences. Thus Pliny, in the preface to his Natural History, says that his book treated of all the subjects of the encyclopaedia of the Greeks, “Jam omnia attingenda quae Graeci τῆς ἐγκυκλοπαιδείας vocant.” Quintilian (Inst. Orat. i. 10) directs that before boys are placed under the rhetorician they should be instructed in the other arts, “ut efficiatur orbis ille doctrinae quam Graeci ἐγκυκλοπαιδείαν vocant.” Galen (De victus ratione in morbis acutis, c. 11) speaks of those who are not educated ἐν τῇ ἐγκυκλοπαιδείᾳ. In these passages of Pliny and Quintilian, however, from one or both of which the modern use of the word seems to have been taken, ἐγκύκλιος παιδεία is now read, and this seems to have been the usual expression. Vitruvius (lib. vi. praef.) calls the encyclios or ἐγκύκλιος παιδεία of the Greeks “doctrinarum omnium disciplina,” instruction in all branches of learning. Strabo (lib. iv. cap. 10) speaks of philosophy καὶ τὴν ἄλλην παιδείαν ἐγκύκλιον. Tzetzes (Chiliades, xi. 527), quoting from Porphyry’s Lives of the Philosophers, says that ἐγκύκλια μαθήματα was the circle of grammar, rhetoric, philosophy and the four arts under it, arithmetic, music, geometry and astronomy. Zonaras explains it as grammar, poetry, rhetoric, philosophy, mathematics and simply every art and science (ἁπλῶς πᾶσα τέχνη καὶ ἐπιστήμη), because sophists go through them as through a circle. The idea seems to be a complete course of instruction in all parts of knowledge. An epic poem was called cyclic when it contained the whole mythology; and among physicians κύκλῳ θεραπεύειν, cyclo curare (Vegetius, De arte veterinaria, ii. 5, 6), meant a cure effected by a regular and prescribed course of diet and medicine (see Wower, De polymathia, c. 24, § 14).
ENCYCLOPEDIA. The Greeks seemed to understand encyclopaedia (encyclopedia, or circular education) as instruction in the complete circle (in a circle) or complete system of learning—education in the arts and sciences. Thus, Pliny, in the preface to his Natural History, mentions that his book covers all the topics in the encyclopaedia of the Greeks, “Jam omnia attingenda quae Graeci of the encyclopedia vocant.” Quintilian (Inst. Orat. i. 10) insists that before boys are taught by the rhetorician, they should be educated in other arts, “ut efficiatur orbis ille doctrinae quam Graeci encyclopedia vocant.” Galen (De victus ratione in morbis acutis, c. 11) refers to those who lack education in the encyclopedia. In these references from Pliny and Quintilian, from which the modern use of the word likely derives, integrated education is used, which appears to be the standard term. Vitruvius (lib. vi. praef.) describes the encyclios or circular education of the Greeks as “doctrinarum omnium disciplina,” meaning instruction in all branches of learning. Strabo (lib. iv. cap. 10) mentions philosophy and the other liberal education. Tzetzes (Chiliades, xi. 527), citing Porphyry’s Lives of the Philosophers, states that integrated courses encompassed the circle of grammar, rhetoric, philosophy, and the four arts under it: arithmetic, music, geometry, and astronomy. Zonaras explains it to include grammar, poetry, rhetoric, philosophy, mathematics, and essentially every art and science (Simply all art and science), as sophists navigate through them like a series of circles. The concept appears to be a comprehensive course of instruction covering all areas of knowledge. An epic poem was termed cyclic when it included the entire mythology; among physicians, cure in a circle, cyclo curare (Vegetius, De arte veterinaria, ii. 5, 6), referred to a cure achieved through a consistent and prescribed regimen of diet and medicine (see Wower, De polymathia, c. 24, § 14).
The word encyclopaedia was probably first used in English by Sir Thomas Elyot. “In an oratour is required to be a heape of all maner of lernyng: whiche of some is called the worlde of science, of other the circle of doctrine, whiche is in one worde of greke Encyclopedia” (The Governour, bk. i. chap. xiii.). In his Latin dictionary, 1538, he explains “Encyclios et Encyclia, the cykle or course of all doctrines,” and “Encyclopedia, that lernynge whiche comprehendeth all lyberall science and studies.” The term does not seem to have been used as the title of a book by the ancients or in the middle ages. The edition of the works of Joachimus Fortius Ringelbergius, printed at Basel in 1541, is called on the title-page Lucubrationes vel potius absolutissima κυκλοπαιδεια. Paulus Scalichius de Lika, an Hungarian count, wrote Encyclopaediae seu orbis disciplinarum epistemon (Basileae, 1599, 4to). Alsted published in 1608 Encyclopaedia cursus philosophici, and afterwards expanded this into his great work, noticed below, calling it without any limitation Encyclopaedia, because it treats of everything that can be learned by man in this life. This is now the most usual sense in which the word encyclopaedia is used—a book treating of all the various kinds of knowledge. The form “cyclopaedia” is not merely without any appearance of classical authority, but is etymologically less definite, complete and correct. For as Cyropaedia means “the instruction of Cyrus,” so cyclopaedia may mean “instruction of a circle.” Vossius says, “Cyclopaedia is sometimes found, but the best writers say encyclopaedia” (De vitiis sermonis, 1645, p. 402). Gesner says, “κύκλος est circulus, quae figura est simplicissima et perfectissima simul: nam incipi potest ubicunque in illa et ubicunque cohaeret. Cyclopaedia itaque significat omnem doctrinarum scientiam inter 370 se cohaerere; Encyclopaedia est institutio in illo circulo.” (Isagoge, 1774, i. 40).
The word "encyclopaedia" was likely first used in English by Sir Thomas Elyot. “A good orator must have a wealth of knowledge in all kinds of learning: which is sometimes referred to as the world of knowledge, and at other times as the circle of doctrine, which in one word is called in Greek 'Encyclopedia'” (The Governour, bk. i. chap. xiii.). In his Latin dictionary from 1538, he explains “Encyclios et Encyclia, the cycle or course of all doctrines,” and “Encyclopedia, the learning that encompasses all liberal sciences and studies.” The term doesn’t seem to have been used as a book title by ancient scholars or during the Middle Ages. The edition of the works of Joachimus Fortius Ringelbergius, printed in Basel in 1541, is titled Lucubrationes vel potius absolutissima encyclopedia. Paulus Scalichius de Lika, a Hungarian count, wrote Encyclopaediae seu orbis disciplinarum epistemon (Basileae, 1599, 4to). Alsted published Encyclopaedia cursus philosophici in 1608, and later expanded it into his major work, simply calling it Encyclopaedia, because it covers everything that can be learned by humans in this life. This is now the most common meaning of the word encyclopaedia—a book that covers all various kinds of knowledge. The form “cyclopaedia” is not only lacking any classical authority, but it is also etymologically less precise, complete, and accurate. Just as Cyropaedia means “the instruction of Cyrus,” cyclopaedia could mean “instruction of a circle.” Vossius states, “Cyclopaedia is sometimes found, but the best authors prefer encyclopaedia” (De vitii sermonis, 1645, p. 402). Gesner explains, “circle means circulus, which is the simplest and most perfect figure: for it can start anywhere on it and connect everywhere. Cyclopaedia therefore signifies all knowledge of doctrines that interconnect; Encyclopaedia is education in that circle.” (Isagoge, 1774, i. 40).
In a more restricted sense, encyclopaedia means a system or classification of the various branches of knowledge, a subject on which many books have been published, especially in Germany, as Schmid’s Allgemeine Encyklopädie und Methodologie der Wissenschaften (Jena, 1810, 4to, 241 pages). In this sense the Novum Organum of Bacon has often been called an encyclopaedia. But it is “a grammar only of the sciences: a cyclopaedia is not a grammar, but a dictionary; and to confuse the meanings of grammar and dictionary is to lose the benefit of a distinction which it is fortunate that terms have been coined to convey” (Quarterly Review, cxiii. 354). Fortunius Licetus, an Italian physician, entitled several of his dissertations on Roman altars and other antiquities encyclopaedias (as, for instance, Encyclopaedia ad. Aram mysticam Nonarii, Pataviae, 1631, 4to), because in composing them he borrowed the aid of all the sciences. The Encyclopaedia moralis of Marcellinus de Pise (Paris, 1646, fol., 4 vols.) is a series of sermons. Encyclopaedia is often used to mean a book which is, or professes to be, a complete or very full collection or treatise relating to some particular subject, as Blaine’s work, The Encyclopaedia of Rural Sports (London, 1852); The Encyclopaedia of Wit (London, 1803); The Vocal Encyclopaedia (London, 1807, 16mo), a collection of songs, catches, &c. The word is frequently used for an alphabetical dictionary treating fully of some science or subject, as Murray, Encyclopaedia of Geography (London, 1834); Lefebvre Laboulaye, Encyclopédie technologique: Dictionnaire des arts et manufactures (Paris, 1845-1847). Whether under the name of “dictionary” or “encyclopaedia” large numbers of this class of reference-work have been published. These are essentially encyclopaedic, being subject books and not word-books. The important books of this character are referred to in the articles dealing with the respective subjects, but the following may be mentioned here: the Jewish Encyclopedia, in 12 vols. (1901), a descriptive record of the history, religion, literature and customs of the Jewish people from the earliest times; the Encyclopaedia of Sport, 2 vols. (1897-1898); Holtzendorff’s Encyklopädie der Rechtswissenschaft (1870; an edition in 2 vols., 1904); the Dictionary of Political Economy, edited by R.H. Inglis Palgrave, 3 vols. (1894; reprinted 1901); the Encyclopaedia Biblica, edited by T.K. Cheyne and J. Sutherland Black, 4 vols. (1899-1903); the Dictionary of the Bible, edited by James Hastings, 4 vols., with a supplementary volume (1904); an interesting series is the Répertoire général du commerce, dealing with the foreign trade of France, of which one part, the Encyclopaedia of Trade between the United States of America and France, with a preface by M. Gabriel Hanotaux, appeared, in French and English, in 1904.
In a more limited sense, an encyclopedia refers to a system or classification of various branches of knowledge, a topic that many books have explored, especially in Germany, like Schmid’s Allgemeine Encyklopädie und Methodologie der Wissenschaften (Jena, 1810, 4to, 241 pages). In this context, Bacon's Novum Organum has frequently been labeled an encyclopedia. However, it is “a grammar only of the sciences: a cyclopedia is not a grammar, but a dictionary; and confusing the meanings of grammar and dictionary means losing the advantage of a distinction that is fortunate to have distinct terms” (Quarterly Review, cxiii. 354). Fortunius Licetus, an Italian doctor, called several of his essays on Roman altars and other antiques encyclopedias (such as Encyclopaedia ad. Aram mysticam Nonarii, Pataviae, 1631, 4to) because he incorporated knowledge from all sciences in their creation. The Encyclopaedia moralis by Marcellinus de Pise (Paris, 1646, fol., 4 vols.) is a collection of sermons. Encyclopedia is often used to describe a book that is, or claims to be, a complete or comprehensive collection or treatise on a specific topic, like Blaine’s work, The Encyclopaedia of Rural Sports (London, 1852); The Encyclopaedia of Wit (London, 1803); The Vocal Encyclopaedia (London, 1807, 16mo), a compilation of songs, catches, etc. The term frequently refers to an alphabetical dictionary that thoroughly covers some science or subject, like Murray's Encyclopaedia of Geography (London, 1834); Lefebvre Laboulaye’s Encyclopédie technologique: Dictionnaire des arts et manufactures (Paris, 1845-1847). Whether called a “dictionary” or “encyclopedia,” a large number of these reference works have been published. These are essentially encyclopedic, being subject books rather than word-books. Key books of this kind are mentioned in the articles related to their respective subjects, but the following can be highlighted here: the Jewish Encyclopedia, in 12 vols. (1901), a detailed account of the history, religion, literature, and customs of the Jewish people from ancient times; the Encyclopaedia of Sport, 2 vols. (1897-1898); Holtzendorff’s Encyklopädie der Rechtswissenschaft (1870; an edition in 2 vols., 1904); the Dictionary of Political Economy, edited by R.H. Inglis Palgrave, 3 vols. (1894; reprinted 1901); the Encyclopaedia Biblica, edited by T.K. Cheyne and J. Sutherland Black, 4 vols. (1899-1903); the Dictionary of the Bible, edited by James Hastings, 4 vols., with a supplementary volume (1904); an interesting series is the Répertoire général du commerce, addressing the foreign trade of France, of which one part, the Encyclopaedia of Trade between the United States of America and France, with a preface by M. Gabriel Hanotaux, was published in both French and English in 1904.
The great Chinese encyclopaedias are referred to in the article on Chinese Literature. It will be sufficient to mention here the Wên hien t’ung k’ao, compiled by Ma Twa-lin in the 14th century, the encyclopaedia ordered to be compiled by the Emperor Yung-loh in the 15th century, and the Ku Kin t‘u shu thi ch‘êng prepared for the Emperor K‘ang-hi (d. 1721), in 5020 volumes. A copy of this enormous work, bound in some 700 volumes, is in the British Museum.
The major Chinese encyclopedias are mentioned in the article on Chinese Literature. It's enough to note the Wên hien t’ung k’ao, put together by Ma Twa-lin in the 14th century, the encyclopedia commissioned by Emperor Yung-loh in the 15th century, and the Ku Kin t‘u shu thi ch‘êng created for Emperor K‘ang-hi (d. 1721), which contains 5020 volumes. A copy of this massive work, bound in about 700 volumes, is held in the British Museum.
The most ancient encyclopaedia extant is Pliny’s Natural History in 37 books (including the preface) and 2493 chapters, which may be thus described generally:—book 1, preface; book 2, cosmography, astronomy and meteorology; books 3 to 6, geography; books 7 to 11, zoology, including man, and the invention of the arts; books 12 to 19, botany; books 20 to 32, medicines, vegetable and animal remedies, medical authors and magic; books 33 to 37, metals, fine arts, mineralogy and mineral remedies. Pliny, who died A.D. 79, was not a naturalist, a physician or an artist, and collected his work in his leisure intervals while engaged in public affairs. He says it contains 20,000 facts (too small a number by half, says Lemaire), collected from 2000 books by 100 authors. Hardouin has given a list of 464 authors quoted by him. His work was a very high authority in the middle ages, and 43 editions of it were printed before 1536.
The oldest surviving encyclopedia is Pliny’s Natural History, which has 37 books (including the preface) and 2,493 chapters. It can be generally described as follows: book 1 is the preface; book 2 covers cosmography, astronomy, and meteorology; books 3 to 6 address geography; books 7 to 11 focus on zoology, including humans and the invention of arts; books 12 to 19 explore botany; books 20 to 32 deal with medicines, remedies from plants and animals, medical authors, and magic; books 33 to 37 discuss metals, fine arts, mineralogy, and mineral remedies. Pliny, who died CE 79, wasn’t a naturalist, physician, or artist; he compiled his work during his free time while involved in public affairs. He claims it contains 20,000 facts (which Lemaire argues is actually way too few), sourced from 2,000 books by 100 authors. Hardouin provided a list of 464 authors he quoted. His work was highly regarded in the Middle Ages, and 43 editions were printed before 1536.
Martianus Minneus Felix Capella, an African, wrote (early in the 5th cent.), in verse and prose, a sort of encyclopaedia, which is important from having been regarded in the middle ages as a model storehouse of learning, and used in the schools, where the scholars had to learn the verses by heart, as a text-book of high-class education in the arts. It is sometimes entitled Satyra, or Satyricon, but is usually known as De nuptiis Philologiae et Mercurii, though this title is sometimes confined to the first two books, a rather confused allegory ending with the apotheosis of Philologia and the celebration of her marriage in the milky way, where Apollo presents to her the seven liberal arts, who, in the succeeding seven books, describe their respective branches of knowledge, namely, grammar, dialectics (divided into metaphysics and logic), rhetoric, geometry (geography, with some single geometrical propositions), arithmetic (chiefly the properties of numbers), astronomy and music (including poetry). The style is that of an African of the 5th century, full of grandiloquence, metaphors and strange words. He seldom mentions his authorities, and sometimes quotes authors whom he does not even seem to have read. His work was frequently copied in the middle ages by ignorant transcribers, and was eight times printed from 1499 to 1599. The best annotated edition is by Kopp (Frankfort, 1836, 4to), and the most convenient and the best text is that of Eysserhardt (Lipsiae, 1866, 8vo).
Martianus Minneus Felix Capella, an African, wrote (early in the 5th century), in both verse and prose, a kind of encyclopedia that was significant because it was seen in the Middle Ages as a model resource for learning and was used in schools, where students had to memorize the verses as a textbook for a high-quality education in the arts. It is sometimes called Satyra or Satyricon, but it’s usually known as De nuptiis Philologiae et Mercurii, though this title may only refer to the first two books, which present a rather confusing allegory culminating in the glorification of Philologia and the celebration of her marriage in the Milky Way, where Apollo gives her the seven liberal arts. In the following seven books, these arts describe their respective fields of knowledge: grammar, dialectics (split into metaphysics and logic), rhetoric, geometry (including geography and some individual geometric propositions), arithmetic (mainly focusing on the properties of numbers), astronomy, and music (which includes poetry). The style reflects that of a 5th-century African, overflowing with grand language, metaphors, and unusual words. He rarely mentions his sources and sometimes quotes authors he doesn’t seem to have read. His work was often copied in the Middle Ages by unqualified scribes and was printed eight times from 1499 to 1599. The best annotated edition is by Kopp (Frankfort, 1836, 4to), and the most convenient and authoritative text is by Eysserhardt (Lipsiae, 1866, 8vo).
Isidore, bishop of Seville from 600 to 630, wrote Etymologiarum libri XX. (often also entitled his Origines) at the request of his friend Braulio, bishop of Saragossa, who after Isidore’s death divided the work into books, as it was left unfinished, and divided only into titles.
Isidore, bishop of Seville from 600 to 630, wrote Etymologiarum libri XX (often also called Origines) at the request of his friend Braulio, bishop of Saragossa. After Isidore passed away, Braulio organized the work into books since it was incomplete and only arranged by titles.
The tenth book is an alphabet of 625 Latin words, not belonging to his other subjects, with their explanations as known to him, and often with their etymologies, frequently very absurd. The other books contain 448 chapters, and are:—1, grammar (Latin); 2, rhetoric and dialectics; 3, the four mathematical disciplines—arithmetic, geometry, music and astronomy; 4, medicine; 5, laws and times (chronology), with a short chronicle ending in 627; 6, ecclesiastical books and offices; 7, God, angels and the orders of the faithful; 8, the church and sects; 9, languages, society and relationships; 11, man and portents; 12, animals, in eight classes, namely, pecora et jumenta, beasts, small animals (including spiders, crickets and ants), serpents, worms, fishes, birds and small winged creatures, chiefly insects; 13, the world and its parts; 14, the earth and its parts, containing chapters on Asia, Europe and Libya, that is, Africa; 15, buildings, fields and their measures; 16, stones (of which one is echo) and metals; 17, de rebus rusticis; 18, war and games; 19, ships, buildings and garments; 20, provisions, domestic and rustic instruments.
The tenth book is a list of 625 Latin words that aren't part of his other topics, along with their explanations as he understands them, and often with their origins, which can be quite silly. The other books consist of 448 chapters, which are:—1. grammar (Latin); 2. rhetoric and dialectics; 3. the four math disciplines—arithmetic, geometry, music, and astronomy; 4. medicine; 5. laws and times (chronology), ending with a short chronicle in 627; 6. ecclesiastical books and offices; 7. God, angels, and the orders of the faithful; 8. the church and sects; 9. languages, society, and relationships; 11. humanity and omens; 12. animals, categorized into eight classes: livestock and work animals, beasts, small animals (including spiders, crickets, and ants), snakes, worms, fish, birds, and small flying creatures, mainly insects; 13. the world and its parts; 14. the earth and its parts, covering chapters on Asia, Europe, and Libya, which is Africa; 15. buildings, fields, and their measurements; 16. stones (including one that echoes) and metals; 17. rural matters; 18. war and games; 19. ships, buildings, and clothing; 20. supplies, as well as household and farming tools.
Isidore appears to have known Hebrew and Greek, and to have been familiar with the Latin classical poets, but he is a mere collector, and his derivations given all through the work are not unfrequently absurd, and, unless when very obvious, will not bear criticism. He seldom mentions his authorities except when he quotes the poets or historians. Yet his work was a great one for the time, and for many centuries was a much valued authority and a rich source of material for other works, and he had a high reputation for learning both in his own time and in subsequent ages. His Etymologies were often imitated, quoted and copied. MSS. are very numerous: Antonio (whose editor, Bayer, saw nearly 40) says, “plures passimque reperiuntur in bibliothecarum angulis.” This work was printed nine times before 1529.
Isidore seems to have known Hebrew and Greek, and he was familiar with the Latin classical poets, but he was mostly a collector. Many of his derivations throughout the work are often absurd, and unless they are very obvious, they won't stand up to scrutiny. He rarely mentions his sources except when he quotes poets or historians. Still, his work was significant for its time and was considered a valuable authority and a rich source of material for many centuries, earning him a high reputation for knowledge in both his own time and later periods. His Etymologies were frequently imitated, quoted, and copied. There are a lot of manuscripts: Antonio (whose editor, Bayer, saw nearly 40) says, “plures passimque reperiuntur in bibliothecarum angulis.” This work was printed nine times before 1529.
Hrabanus Maurus, whose family name was Magnentius, was educated in the abbey of Fulda, ordained deacon in 802 (“Annales Francorum” in Bouquet, Historiens de la France, v. 66), sent to the school of St Martin of Tours, then directed by Alcuin, where he seems to have learned Greek, and is said by Trithemius to have been taught Hebrew, Syriac and Chaldee by Theophilus an Ephesian. In his Commentaries on Joshua (lib. ii. c. 5) he speaks of having resided at Sidon. He returned to Fulda and taught the school there. He became abbot of Fulda in 822, resigned in April 842, was ordained archbishop of Mainz on the 26th of July 847, and died on the 4th of February 856. He compiled an encyclopaedia De universo (also called in some MSS. De universali natura, De natura rerum, and De origine rerum) in 22 books and 325 chapters. It is chiefly a rearrangement of 371 Isidore’s Etymologies, omitting the first four books, half of the fifth and the tenth (the seven liberal arts, law, medicine and the alphabet of words), and copying the rest, beginning with the seventh book, verbally, though with great omissions, and adding (according to Ritter, Geschichte der Philosophie, vii. 193, from Alcuin, Augustine or some other accessible source) the meanings given in the Bible to the subject matter of the chapter; while things not mentioned in Scripture, especially such as belong to classical antiquity, are omitted, so that his work seems to be formed of two alternating parts. His arrangement of beginning with God and the angels long prevailed in methodical encyclopaedias. His last six books follow very closely the order of the last five of Isidore, from which they are taken. His omissions are characteristic of the diminished literary activity and more contracted knowledge of his time. His work was presented to Louis the German, king of Bavaria, at Hersfeld in October 847, and was printed in 1473, fol., probably at Venice, and again at Strassburg by Mentelin about 1472-1475, fol., 334 pages.
Hrabanus Maurus, whose family name was Magnentius, was educated at the abbey of Fulda and ordained as a deacon in 802 (“Annales Francorum” in Bouquet, Historiens de la France, v. 66). He was then sent to the school of St. Martin of Tours, which was run by Alcuin, where he seems to have learned Greek and is said by Trithemius to have been taught Hebrew, Syriac, and Chaldee by Theophilus, an Ephesian. In his Commentaries on Joshua (lib. ii. c. 5), he mentions having lived in Sidon. He returned to Fulda and taught at the school there. He became the abbot of Fulda in 822, resigned in April 842, was ordained as the archbishop of Mainz on July 26, 847, and died on February 4, 856. He compiled an encyclopedia De universo (also known in some manuscripts as De universali natura, De natura rerum, and De origine rerum) in 22 books and 325 chapters. It is mainly a reorganization of Isidore’s Etymologies, leaving out the first four books, half of the fifth, and the tenth (which covers the seven liberal arts, law, medicine, and the alphabet of words), and copying the rest, starting from the seventh book, almost verbatim, though with significant omissions. He added meanings from the Bible related to the chapter topics, as noted by Ritter (Geschichte der Philosophie, vii. 193), based on Alcuin, Augustine, or other sources, while excluding topics not mentioned in Scripture, especially those tied to classical antiquity, resulting in a work that alternates between two distinct parts. His method of beginning with God and the angels was influential in later encyclopedias. The last six books closely follow the order of the last five of Isidore, from which they are derived. His omissions reflect the reduced literary activity and limited knowledge of his time. His work was presented to Louis the German, king of Bavaria, at Hersfeld in October 847 and was printed in 1473, likely in Venice, and again in Strasbourg by Mentelin around 1472-1475, fol., 334 pages.
Michael Constantine Psellus, the younger, wrote Διδασκαλία παντοδαπή, dedicated to the emperor Michael Ducas, who reigned 1071-1078. It was printed by Fabricius in his Bibliotheca Graeca (1712), vol. v., in 186 pages 4to and 193 chapters, each containing a question and answer. Beginning with divinity, it goes on through natural history and astronomy, and ends with chapters on excessive hunger, and why flesh hung from a fig-tree becomes tender. As collation with a Turin MS. showed that 35 chapters were wanting, Harles has omitted the text in his edition of Fabricius, and gives only the titles of the chapters (x. 84-88).
Michael Constantine Psellus the Younger wrote Various teachings, dedicated to Emperor Michael Ducas, who ruled from 1071 to 1078. It was published by Fabricius in his Bibliotheca Graeca (1712), vol. v., spanning 186 pages in 4to and consisting of 193 chapters, each featuring a question and answer. Starting with divinity, it continues through natural history and astronomy, and concludes with chapters on extreme hunger and why flesh hanging from a fig tree becomes tender. A comparison with a Turin manuscript revealed that 35 chapters were missing, prompting Harles to exclude the text in his edition of Fabricius and provide only the chapter titles (x. 84-88).
The author of the most famous encyclopaedia of the middle ages was Vincent (q.v.) of Beauvais (c. 1190-c. 1264), whose work Bibliotheca mundi or Speculum majus—divided, as we have it, into four parts, Speculum naturale, Speculum doctrinale, Speculum morale (this part should be ascribed to a later hand), and Speculum historiale—was the great compendium of mid-13th century knowledge. Vincent of Beauvais preserved several works of the middle ages and gives extracts from many lost classics and valuable readings of others, and did more than any other medieval writer to awaken a taste for classical literature. Fabricius (Bibl. Graeca, 1728, xiv. pp. 107-125) has given a list of 328 authors, Hebrew, Arabic, Greek and Latin, quoted in the Speculum naturale. To these should be added about 100 more for the doctrinale and historiale. As Vincent did not know Greek or Arabic, he used Latin translations. This work is dealt with separately in the article on Vincent of Beauvais.
The author of the most famous encyclopedia of the Middle Ages was Vincent (q.v.) of Beauvais (c. 1190-c. 1264). His work, Bibliotheca mundi or Speculum majus—which we have divided into four parts: Speculum naturale, Speculum doctrinale, Speculum morale (this part is thought to be from a later author), and Speculum historiale—was the great collection of knowledge from the mid-13th century. Vincent of Beauvais preserved several works from the Middle Ages and provided extracts from many lost classics, as well as valuable interpretations of others, doing more than any other medieval writer to foster an interest in classical literature. Fabricius (Bibl. Graeca, 1728, xiv. pp. 107-125) has compiled a list of 328 authors, including Hebrew, Arabic, Greek, and Latin, cited in the Speculum naturale. Approximately 100 more should be added for the doctrinale and historiale. Since Vincent didn’t know Greek or Arabic, he relied on Latin translations. This work is discussed separately in the article on Vincent of Beauvais.
Brunetto Latini of Florence (born 1230, died 1294), the master of Dante and Guido Cavalcanti, while an exile in France between 1260 and 1267, wrote in French Li Livres dou Tresor, in 3 books and 413 chapters. Book i. contains the origin of the world, the history of the Bible and of the foundation of governments, astronomy, geography, and lastly natural history, taken from Aristotle, Pliny, and the old French Bestiaries. The first part of Book ii., on morality, is from the Ethics of Aristotle, which Brunetto had translated into Italian. The second part is little more than a copy of the well-known collection of extracts from ancient and modern moralists, called the Moralities of the Philosophers, of which there are many MSS. in prose and verse. Book iii., on politics, begins with a treatise on rhetoric, chiefly from Cicero De inventione, with many extracts from other writers and Brunetto’s remarks. The last part, the most original and interesting of all, treats of the government of the Italian republics of the time. Like many of his contemporaries, Brunetto revised his work, so that there are two editions, the second made after his return from exile. MSS. are singularly numerous, and exist in all the dialects then used in France. Others were written in Italy. It was translated into Italian in the latter part of the 13th century by Bono Giamboni, and was printed at Trevigi, 1474, fol., Venice, 1528 and 1533. The Tesoro of Brunetto must not be confounded with his Tesoretto, an Italian poem of 2937 short lines. Napoleon I. had intended to have the French text of the Tesoro printed with commentaries, and appointed a commission for the purpose. It was at last published in the Collection des documents inédits (Paris, 1863, 4to, 772 pages), edited by Chabaille from 42 MSS.
Brunetto Latini from Florence (born 1230, died 1294), the mentor of Dante and Guido Cavalcanti, wrote in French Li Livres dou Tresor while he was in exile in France from 1260 to 1267. This work consists of 3 books and 413 chapters. Book 1 covers the origin of the world, biblical history, the establishment of governments, astronomy, geography, and natural history, drawing from Aristotle, Pliny, and ancient French Bestiaries. The first part of Book 2 focuses on morality and is based on Aristotle's Ethics, which Brunetto translated into Italian. The second part largely replicates the famous collection of extracts from ancient and modern moralists known as the Moralities of the Philosophers, which exists in various manuscripts in both prose and verse. Book 3, which discusses politics, begins with a treatise on rhetoric primarily drawn from Cicero's De inventione along with many excerpts from other writers and Brunetto's own comments. The last section is the most unique and engaging, addressing the governance of contemporary Italian republics. Like many of his peers, Brunetto revised his work, resulting in two editions, the second produced after his return from exile. There are many manuscripts available in various dialects used in France at the time, as well as others created in Italy. It was translated into Italian in the late 13th century by Bono Giamboni and was published in Trevigi in 1474, and later in Venice in 1528 and 1533. Brunetto's Tesoro should not be mistaken for his Tesoretto, an Italian poem with 2,937 short lines. Napoleon I wanted to publish the French text of the Tesoro with commentaries and established a commission for this purpose. Ultimately, it was published in the Collection des documents inédits (Paris, 1863, 4to, 772 pages), edited by Chabaille from 42 manuscripts.
Bartholomew de Glanville, an English Franciscan friar, wrote about 1360 a most popular work, De proprietatibus rerum, in 19 books and 1230 chapters.
Bartholomew de Glanville, an English Franciscan friar, wrote around 1360 a very popular work, De proprietatibus rerum, in 19 books and 1230 chapters.
Book 1 relates to God; 2, angels; 3, the soul; 4, the substance of the body; 5, anatomy; 6, ages; 7, diseases; 8, the heavens (astronomy and astrology); 9, time; 10, matter and form; 11, air; 12, birds (including insects, 38 names, Aquila to Vespertilio); 13, water (with fishes); 14, the earth (42 mountains, Ararath to Ziph); 15, provinces (171 countries, Asia to Zeugia); 16, precious stones (including coral, pearl, salt, 104 names, Arena to Zinguttes); 17, trees and herbs (197, Arbor to Zucarum); 18, animals (114, Aries to Vipera); 19, colours, scents, flavours and liquors, with a list of 36 eggs (Aspis to Vultur). Some editions add book 20, accidents of things, that is, numbers, measures, weights and sounds. The Paris edition of 1574 has a book on bees.
Book 1 is about God; 2, angels; 3, the soul; 4, the substance of the body; 5, anatomy; 6, ages; 7, diseases; 8, the heavens (astronomy and astrology); 9, time; 10, matter and form; 11, air; 12, birds (including insects, 38 names, from Aquila to Vespertilio); 13, water (with fish); 14, the earth (42 mountains, from Ararath to Ziph); 15, provinces (171 countries, from Asia to Zeugia); 16, precious stones (including coral, pearl, salt, 104 names, from Arena to Zinguttes); 17, trees and herbs (197, from Arbor to Zucarum); 18, animals (114, from Aries to Vipera); 19, colors, scents, flavors, and liquids, with a list of 36 eggs (from Aspis to Vultur). Some editions add book 20, which covers the accidents of things, specifically numbers, measures, weights, and sounds. The Paris edition of 1574 includes a book on bees.
There were 15 editions before 1500. An English translation was completed 11th February 1398 by John Trevisa, and printed by Wynkyn de Worde, Westminster, 1495? fol.; London, 1533, fol.; and with considerable additions by Stephen Batman, a physician, London, 1582, fol. It was translated into French by Jehan Corbichon at the command of Charles V. of France, and printed 14 times from 1482 to 1556. A Dutch translation was printed in 1479, and again at Haarlem, 1485, fol.; and a Spanish translation by Padre Vincente de Burgos, Tholosa, 1494, fol.
There were 15 editions before 1500. An English translation was completed on February 11, 1398, by John Trevisa, and printed by Wynkyn de Worde in Westminster in 1495; London in 1533; and with significant additions by Stephen Batman, a physician, in London in 1582. It was translated into French by Jehan Corbichon at the request of Charles V of France and was printed 14 times from 1482 to 1556. A Dutch translation was printed in 1479 and again in Haarlem in 1485, and a Spanish translation was made by Padre Vincente de Burgos in Tholosa in 1494.
Pierre Bersuire (Berchorius), a Benedictine, prior of the abbey of St Eloi in Paris, where he died in 1362, wrote a kind of encyclopaedia, chiefly relating to divinity, in three parts:—Reductorium morale super totam Bibliam, 428 moralitates in 34 books on the Bible from Genesis to Apocalypse; Reductorium morale de proprietatibus rerum, in 14 books and 958 chapters, a methodical encyclopaedia or system of nature on the plan of Bartholomew de Glanville, and chiefly taken from him (Berchorius places animals next after fishes in books 9 and 10, and adopts as natural classes volatilia, natatilia and gressibilia); Dictionarius, an alphabetical dictionary of 3514 words used in the Bible with moral expositions, occupying in the last edition 1558 folio pages. The first part was printed 11 times from 1474 to 1515, and the third 4 times. The three parts were printed together as Petri Berchorii opera omnia (an incorrect title, for he wrote much besides), Moguntiae, 1609, fol., 3 vols., 2719 pages; Coloniae Agrippinae, 1631, fol., 3 vols.; ib. 1730-1731, fol., 6 vols., 2570 pages.
Pierre Bersuire (Berchorius), a Benedictine and prior of the abbey of St Eloi in Paris, where he died in 1362, wrote an encyclopedia mainly focused on religious topics, consisting of three parts: Reductorium morale super totam Bibliam, which contains 428 moral teachings spread across 34 books on the Bible from Genesis to Revelation; Reductorium morale de proprietatibus rerum, comprised of 14 books and 958 chapters, a systematic encyclopedia or framework of nature based on Bartholomew de Glanville, from whom he mostly drew content (Berchorius places animals right after fish in books 9 and 10, and classifies living things as volatilia, natatilia, and gressibilia); and Dictionarius, an alphabetical dictionary featuring 3,514 words used in the Bible with moral explanations, which in the last edition spans 1,558 folio pages. The first part was printed 11 times from 1474 to 1515, and the third part 4 times. The three parts were published together as Petri Berchorii opera omnia (an incorrect title since he wrote much more), in Mainz, 1609, folio, 3 volumes, 2,719 pages; in Cologne, 1631, folio, 3 volumes; and there again in 1730-1731, folio, 6 volumes, 2,570 pages.
A very popular small encyclopaedia, Margarita philosophica, in 12 books, divided into 26 tractates and 573 chapters, was written by Georg Reisch, a German, prior of the Carthusians of Freiburg, and confessor of the emperor Maximilian I. Books 1-7 treat of the seven liberal arts; 8, 9, principles and origin of natural things; 10, 11, the soul, vegetative, sensitive and intellectual; 12, moral philosophy. The first edition, Heidelberg, 1496, 4to, was followed by 8 others to 1535. An Italian translation by the astronomer Giovanno Paolo Gallucci was published at Venice in 1594, 1138 small quarto pages, of which 343 consist of additional tracts appended by the translator.
A very popular small encyclopedia, Margarita philosophica, in 12 books, divided into 26 tractates and 573 chapters, was written by Georg Reisch, a German who was the prior of the Carthusians in Freiburg and the confessor to Emperor Maximilian I. Books 1-7 cover the seven liberal arts; Books 8 and 9 discuss the principles and origins of natural things; Books 10 and 11 focus on the soul, including the vegetative, sensitive, and intellectual aspects; and Book 12 is about moral philosophy. The first edition was published in Heidelberg in 1496, in quarto format, and there were 8 more editions published up to 1535. An Italian translation by the astronomer Giovanni Paolo Gallucci was released in Venice in 1594, consisting of 1138 small quarto pages, of which 343 are additional tracts provided by the translator.
Raphael Maffei, called Volaterranus, being a native of Volterra, where he was born in 1451 and died 5th January 1522, wrote Commentarii Urbani (Rome, 1506, fol., in 38 books), so called because written at Rome. This encyclopaedia, printed eight times up to 1603, is remarkable for the great importance given to geography, and also to biography, a subject not included in previous encyclopaedias. Indeed, the book is formed of three nearly equal parts,—geographia, 11 books; anthropologia (biography), 11 books; and philologia, 15 books. The books are not divided into short chapters in the ancient manner, like those of its predecessors. The edition of 1603 contains 814 folio pages. The first book consists of the table of contents and a classed index; books 2-12, geography; 13-23, lives of illustrious men, the popes occupying book 22, and the emperors book 23; 24-27, animals and plants; 28, metals, gems, stones, houses and other inanimate things; 34, de scientiis cyclicis (grammar and rhetoric); 35, de scientiis mathematicis, 372 arithmetic, geometry, optica, catoptrica, astronomy and astrology; 36-38, Aristotelica (on the works of Aristotle).
Raphael Maffei, known as Volaterranus, was born in Volterra in 1451 and passed away on January 5, 1522. He wrote Commentarii Urbani (Rome, 1506, fol., in 38 books), named for being created in Rome. This encyclopedia, printed eight times by 1603, stands out for its significant focus on geography and biography, a topic not covered in earlier encyclopedias. The work is divided into three roughly equal sections: geography, 11 books; anthropology (biography), 11 books; and philology, 15 books. Unlike its predecessors, the books are not split into short chapters in the traditional style. The 1603 edition has 814 folio pages. The first book includes the table of contents and a classified index; books 2-12 cover geography; books 13-23 focus on the lives of notable figures, with the popes in book 22 and the emperors in book 23; books 24-27 discuss animals and plants; book 28 covers metals, gems, stones, buildings, and other inanimate objects; book 34 is about cyclic sciences (grammar and rhetoric); book 35 discusses mathematical sciences, 372 arithmetic, geometry, optics, catoptrics, astronomy, and astrology; and books 36-38 are dedicated to Aristotelica (on the works of Aristotle).
Giorgio Valla, born about 1430 at Placentia, and therefore called Placentinus, died at Venice in 1499 while lecturing on the immortality of the soul. Aldus published his work, edited by his son Giovanni Pietro Valla, De expetendis et fugiendis rebus, Venetiis, 1501, fol. 2 vols.
Giorgio Valla, born around 1430 in Piacenza, and thus known as Placentinus, died in Venice in 1499 while giving a lecture on the immortality of the soul. Aldus published his work, edited by his son Giovanni Pietro Valla, De expetendis et fugiendis rebus, Venice, 1501, in 2 volumes.
It contains 49 books and 2119 chapters. Book 1 is introductory, on knowledge, philosophy and mathematics, considered generally (he divides everything to be sought or avoided into three kinds—those which are in the mind, in the body by nature or habit, and thirdly, external, coming from without); books 2-4, arithmetic; 5-9, music; 10-15, geometry, including Euclid and mechanics—book 15 being in three long chapters—de spiritualibus, that is, pneumatics and hydraulics, de catoptricis, and de optice; 16-19, astrology (with the structure and use of the astrolabe); 20-23, physics (including metaphysics); 24-30, medicine; 31-34, grammar; 35-37, dialectics; 38, poetry; 39, 40, rhetoric; 41, moral philosophy; 42-44, economics; 45, politics; 46-48, de corporis commodis et incommodis, on the good and evil of the body (and soul); 49, de rebus externis, as glory, grandeur, &c.
It contains 49 books and 2119 chapters. Book 1 is an introduction to knowledge, philosophy, and mathematics, generally discussing how to categorize everything we seek or avoid into three types—those in the mind, those in the body by nature or habit, and lastly, those external influences; books 2-4 cover arithmetic; books 5-9 focus on music; books 10-15 are about geometry, which includes Euclid and mechanics—book 15 is divided into three lengthy chapters—de spiritualibus, which means pneumatics and hydraulics, de catoptricis, and de optice; books 16-19 explore astrology (including how to use the astrolabe); books 20-23 dive into physics (including metaphysics); books 24-30 are about medicine; books 31-34 cover grammar; books 35-37 focus on dialectics; book 38 is on poetry; books 39 and 40 cover rhetoric; book 41 is about moral philosophy; books 42-44 deal with economics; book 45 discusses politics; and books 46-48 cover de corporis commodis et incommodis, which is about the good and evil of the body (and soul); book 49 is about de rebus externis, including glory, grandeur, etc.
Antonio Zara, born 1574, made bishop of Petina in Istria 1600, finished on the 17th of January 1614 a work published as Anatomia ingeniorum et scientiarum, Venetiis, 1615, 4to, 664 pages, in four sections and 54 membra. The first section, on the dignity and excellence of man, in 16 membra, considers him in all his bodily and mental aspects. The first membrum describes his structure and his soul, and in the latter part contains the author’s preface, the deeds of his ancestors, an account of himself, and the dedication of his book to Ferdinand, archduke of Austria. Four membra treat of the discovery of character by chiromancy, physiognomy, dreams and astrology. The second section treats of 16 sciences of the imagination—writing, magic, poetry, oratory, courtiership (aulicitas), theoretical and mystic arithmetic, geometry, architecture, optics, cosmography, astrology, practical medicine, war, government. The third section treats of 8 sciences of intellect—logic, physics, metaphysics, theoretical medicine, ethics, practical jurisprudence, judicature, theoretical theology. The fourth section treats of 12 sciences of memory—grammar, practical arithmetic, human history, sacred canons, practical theology, sacred history, and lastly the creation and the final catastrophe. The book, now very rare, is well arranged, with a copious index, and is full of curious learning.
Antonio Zara, born in 1574, was made bishop of Petina in Istria in 1600. He completed a work on January 17, 1614, published as Anatomia ingeniorum et scientiarum in Venice, 1615, 4to, 664 pages, divided into four sections and 54 parts. The first section, which discusses the dignity and excellence of man, has 16 parts and considers him in all his physical and mental aspects. The first part describes his structure and soul, while the latter includes the author’s preface, an account of his ancestors, a brief biography, and the dedication of his book to Ferdinand, archduke of Austria. Four parts explore character discovery through chiromancy, physiognomy, dreams, and astrology. The second section covers 16 fields of imagination—writing, magic, poetry, public speaking, courtly behavior (aulicitas), theoretical and mystical arithmetic, geometry, architecture, optics, cosmography, astrology, practical medicine, military strategy, and government. The third section addresses 8 fields of intellect—logic, physics, metaphysics, theoretical medicine, ethics, practical law, adjudication, and theoretical theology. The fourth section focuses on 12 fields of memory—grammar, practical arithmetic, human history, sacred laws, practical theology, sacred history, and finally, creation and the end of the world. The book, now very rare, is well-organized, has a comprehensive index, and is filled with fascinating knowledge.
Johann Heinrich Alsted, born 1588, died 1638, published Encyclopaedia septem tomis distincta, Herbornae Nassoviorum, 1630, fol. 7 vols., 2543 pages of very small type. It is in 35 books, divided into 7 classes, preceded by 48 synoptical tables of the whole, and followed by an index of 119 pages.
Johann Heinrich Alsted, born in 1588 and died in 1638, published Encyclopaedia septem tomis distincta, Herbornae Nassoviorum, 1630, fol. 7 volumes, 2543 pages of very small type. It consists of 35 books, organized into 7 classes, preceded by 48 synoptical tables of the entire work, and followed by an index of 119 pages.
I. Praecognita disciplinarum, 4 books, hexilogia, technologia, archelogia, didactica, that is, on intellectual habits and on the classification, origin and study of the arts. II. Philology, 6 books, lexica, grammar, rhetoric, logic, oratory and poetry; book 5, lexica, contains dictionaries explained in Latin of 1076 Hebrew, 842 Syriac, 1934 Arabic, 1923 Greek and 2092 Latin words, and also nomenclator technologiae, &c., a classified vocabulary of terms used in the arts and sciences, in Latin, Greek and Hebrew, filling 34 pages; book 6 contains Hebrew, Aramaic, Greek, Latin and German grammars; book 10, poetica, contains a list of 61 Rotwelsch words. III. Theoretic philosophy, 10 books:—book 11, metaphysics; 12, pneumatics (on spirits); 13, physics; 14, arithmetic; 15, geometry; 16, cosmography; 17, uranometria (astronomy and astrology); 18, geography (with maps of the Old World, eastern Mediterranean, and Palestine under the Old and New Testaments, and a plate of Noah’s ark); 19, optics; 20, music. IV. Practical philosophy, 4 books:—21, ethics; 22, economics (on relationships); 23, politics, with florilegium politicum, 119 pages of extracts from historians, philosophers and orators; 24, scholastics (on education, with a florilegium of 25 pages). V. The three superior faculties:—25, theology; 26, jurisprudence; 27, medicine (ending with the rules of the Salernian school). VI. Mechanical arts in general:—book 28, mathematical mechanical arts; book 29, agriculture, gardening, care of animals, baking, brewing, preparing medicines, metallurgy (with mining); book 30, physical mechanical arts—printing, dialling, &c. Under paedutica (games) is Vida’s Latin poem on chess, and one by Leuschner on the ludus Lorzius. VII. Farragines disciplinarum, 5 books:—31, mnemonics; 32, history; 33, chronology; 34, architecture; 35, quodlibetica, miscellaneous arts, as magic, cabbala, alchemy, magnetism, &c., with others apparently distinguished and named by himself, as, paradoxologia, the art of explaining paradoxes; dipnosophistica, the art of philosophizing while feasting; cyclognomica, the art of conversing well de quovis scibili; tabacologia, the nature, use and abuse of tobacco, &c.—in all 35 articles in this book.
I. Preliminary Studies of Disciplines, 4 books, Hexalogy, Technology, Archeology, Didactics, which discusses intellectual habits and the classification, origin, and study of the arts. II. Philology, 6 books, dictionaries, grammar, rhetoric, logic, speech, and poetry; book 5, dictionaries, provides Latin explanations of 1,076 Hebrew, 842 Syriac, 1,934 Arabic, 1,923 Greek, and 2,092 Latin words, along with a vocabulary of terms used in the arts and sciences in Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, spanning 34 pages; book 6 includes Hebrew, Aramaic, Greek, Latin, and German grammars; book 10, on poetry, lists 61 Rotwelsch words. III. Theoretical Philosophy, 10 books:—book 11, metaphysics; 12, pneumatics (on spirits); 13, physics; 14, arithmetic; 15, geometry; 16, cosmography; 17, uranometry (astronomy and astrology); 18, geography (featuring maps of the Old World, eastern Mediterranean, and Palestine as depicted in the Old and New Testaments, along with an illustration of Noah’s ark); 19, optics; 20, music. IV. Practical Philosophy, 4 books:—21, ethics; 22, economics (on relationships); 23, politics, which includes a political anthology, 119 pages of excerpts from historians, philosophers, and speakers; 24, scholastics (on education, with a 25-page anthology). V. The three higher faculties:—25, theology; 26, law; 27, medicine (concluding with the rules of the Salernian school). VI. Mechanical arts in general:—book 28, mathematical mechanical arts; book 29, agriculture, gardening, animal care, baking, brewing, medicine preparation, metallurgy (including mining); book 30, physical mechanical arts—printing, sundials, etc. Under "paedutica" (games) is Vida’s Latin poem on chess and one by Leuschner on the game of Lorzius. VII. Miscellaneous Disciplines, 5 books:—31, mnemonics; 32, history; 33, chronology; 34, architecture; 35, miscellaneous arts, such as magic, Kabbalah, alchemy, magnetism, etc., with additional topics presumably named by himself, including paradoxology, the art of explaining paradoxes; dipnosophistica, the art of philosophizing while feasting; cyclognomica, the art of conversing well on any subject; tabacologia, the nature, use, and misuse of tobacco, etc.—totaling 35 topics in this book.
Alsted’s encyclopaedia was received with very great applause, and was highly valued. Lami (Entretiens, 1684, p. 188) thought it almost the only encyclopaedia which did not deserve to be despised. Alsted’s learning was very various, and his reading was very extensive and diversified. He gives few references, and Thomasius charges him with plagiarism, as he often copies literally without any acknowledgment. He wrote not long before the appearance of encyclopaedias in modern languages superseded his own and other Latin books, and but a short time before the alphabetical arrangement began to prevail over the methodical. His book was reprinted, Lugduni, 1649, fol. 4 vols., 2608 pages.
Alsted’s encyclopedia was received with great acclaim and was highly regarded. Lami (Entretiens, 1684, p. 188) considered it nearly the only encyclopedia that did not deserve to be dismissed. Alsted's knowledge was diverse, and his reading was extensive and varied. He includes few references, and Thomasius accused him of plagiarism, as he often copied text verbatim without any acknowledgment. He wrote shortly before modern language encyclopedias replaced his and other Latin works, and just before the alphabetical arrangement started to take precedence over the systematic approach. His book was reprinted in Lugduni, 1649, 4 vols., 2608 pages.
Jean de Magnon, historiographer to the king of France, undertook to write an encyclopaedia in French heroic verse, which was to fill ten volumes of 20,000 lines each, and to render libraries merely a useless ornament. But he did not live to finish it, as he was killed at night by robbers on the Pont Neuf in Paris, in April 1662. The part he left was printed as La Science universelle, Paris, 1663, fol., 348 pages,—10 books containing about 11,000 lines. They begin with the nature of God, and end with the history of the fall of man. His verses, say Chaudon and Delandine, are perhaps the most nerveless, incorrect, obscure and flat in French poetry; yet the author had been the friend of Molière, and had acted with him in comedy.
Jean de Magnon, the historian for the king of France, set out to create an encyclopedia in French heroic verse that would span ten volumes of 20,000 lines each, making libraries nothing more than decorative items. However, he didn’t live to complete it, as he was murdered by robbers on the Pont Neuf in Paris in April 1662. The portion he did finish was published as La Science universelle, Paris, 1663, fol., 348 pages,—10 books containing about 11,000 lines. They start with the nature of God and conclude with the history of the fall of man. According to Chaudon and Delandine, his verses are possibly among the most uninspired, incorrect, unclear, and bland in French poetry; yet the author had been a friend of Molière and acted with him in comedy.
Louis Moréri (born on the 25th of March 1643 at Bargemont, in the diocese of Fréjus, died on the 10th of July 1680 at Paris) wrote a dictionary of history, genealogy and biography, Le Grand Dictionnaire historique, ou le mélange curieux de l’histoire sacrée et profane, Lyons, 1674, fol. He began a second edition on a larger scale, published at Lyons in 1681, in two volumes folio; the sixth edition was edited by Jean le Clerc, Amsterdam, 1691, fol. 4 vols.; the twentieth and last edition, Paris, 1759, fol. 10 vols. Moréri’s dictionary, still very useful, was of great value and importance, although not the first of the kind. It superseded the very inferior compilation of Juigné-Broissinère, Dictionnaire théologique, historique, poétique, cosmographique, et chronologique, Paris, 1644, 4to; Rouen, 1668, &c.,—a translation, with additions, of the Dictionarium historicum, geographicum, et poëticum of Charles Estienne, published in 1553, 4to, and often afterwards. As such a work was much wanted, Juigné’s book went through twelve editions in less than thirty years, notwithstanding its want of criticism, errors, anachronisms, defects and inferior style.
Louis Moréri (born March 25, 1643, in Bargemont, in the diocese of Fréjus; died July 10, 1680, in Paris) wrote a dictionary of history, genealogy, and biography, Le Grand Dictionnaire historique, ou le mélange curieux de l’histoire sacrée et profane, published in Lyons in 1674, fol. He started a second, larger edition, which was published in Lyons in 1681 in two folio volumes; the sixth edition was edited by Jean le Clerc in Amsterdam in 1691, in four folio volumes; the twentieth and final edition was published in Paris in 1759, in ten folio volumes. Moréri’s dictionary, which remains very useful, was highly valuable and significant, even though it wasn't the first of its kind. It replaced the much lesser compilation by Juigné-Broissinère, Dictionnaire théologique, historique, poétique, cosmographique, et chronologique, published in Paris in 1644, 4to; Rouen, 1668, etc.—a translation with additions of Charles Estienne’s Dictionarium historicum, geographicum, et poëticum, published in 1553, 4to, and often reprinted later. Since a work like this was greatly needed, Juigné’s book went through twelve editions in less than thirty years, despite its lack of critical rigor, errors, anachronisms, shortcomings, and poor style.
Johann Jacob Hofmann (born on the 11th of September 1635, died on the 10th of March 1706), son of a schoolmaster at Basel, which he is said never to have left, and where he was professor of Greek and History, wrote Lexicon universale historico-geographico-chronologico-poëtico-philologicum, Basileae, 1677, fol. 2 vols., 1823 pages, a dictionary of history, biography, geography, genealogies of princely families, chronology, mythology and philology. At the end is Nomenclator Μιξόγλωττος, an index of names of places, people, &c., in many languages, carefully collected, and explained in Latin, filling 110 pages; with an index of subjects not forming separate articles, occupying 34 pages. In 1683 he published a continuation in 2 vols. fol., 2293 pages, containing, besides additions to the subjects given in his lexicon, the history of animals, plants, stones, metals, elements, stars, and especially of man and his affairs, arts, honours, laws, magic, music, rites and a vast number of other subjects. In 1698 he published a second edition, Lugduni Batavorum, fol. 4 vols., 3742 pages, incorporating the continuation with additions. From the great extent of his plan, many articles, especially in history, are superficial and faulty.
Johann Jacob Hofmann (born September 11, 1635, died March 10, 1706), the son of a schoolmaster in Basel, which he allegedly never left, served as a professor of Greek and History there. He wrote Lexicon universale historico-geographico-chronologico-poëtico-philologicum, published in Basel in 1677, consisting of 2 volumes and 1823 pages. This dictionary covers history, biography, geography, genealogies of royal families, chronology, mythology, and philology. At the end, there’s a Nomenclator Mixed language, an index of names of places, people, etc., in various languages, carefully compiled and explained in Latin, spanning 110 pages, alongside an index of subjects that do not have separate articles, which takes up 34 pages. In 1683, he published a continuation in 2 volumes, totaling 2293 pages, which includes additions to the topics from his lexicon and discusses the history of animals, plants, stones, metals, elements, stars, and especially of humans and their activities, arts, honors, laws, magic, music, rituals, and a wide range of other subjects. In 1698, he released a second edition in Leiden, in 4 volumes with 3742 pages, incorporating the continuation along with additional content. Due to the vastness of his project, many entries, particularly in history, are somewhat superficial and flawed.
Étienne Chauvin was born at Nismes on the 18th of April 1640. He fled to Rotterdam on the revocation of the edict of Nantes, and in 1688 supplied Bayle’s place in his lectures on philosophy. In 1695 he was invited by the elector of Brandenburg to go as professor of philosophy to Berlin, where he became the representative of the Cartesian philosophy, and died on the 373 6th of April 1725. He wrote Lexicon rationale, sive thesaurus philosophicus ordine alphabetico digestus, Rotterdami, 1692, fol., 746 pages and 30 plates. An improved and enlarged edition was printed as Lexicon philosophicum secundis curis, Leovardiae, 1713, large folio, 725 pages and 30 plates. This great work may be considered as a dictionary of the Cartesian philosophy, and was very much used by Brucker and other earlier historians of philosophy. It is written in a very dry and scholastic style, and seldom names authorities.
Étienne Chauvin was born in Nîmes on April 18, 1640. He escaped to Rotterdam after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, and in 1688 took over Bayle’s lectures on philosophy. In 1695, he was invited by the Elector of Brandenburg to become a philosophy professor in Berlin, where he represented Cartesian philosophy, and died on April 6, 1725. He authored Lexicon rationale, sive thesaurus philosophicus ordine alphabetico digestus, published in Rotterdam in 1692, folio, 746 pages and 30 plates. An improved and expanded edition was printed as Lexicon philosophicum secundis curis, in Leovardia in 1713, large folio, 725 pages and 30 plates. This substantial work can be seen as a dictionary of Cartesian philosophy and was widely used by Brucker and other early historians of philosophy. It is written in a very dry and academic style, and rarely cites sources.
The great dictionary of French, begun by the French Academy on the 7th of February 1639, excluded all words especially belonging to science and the arts. But the success of the rival dictionary of Furetière, which, as its title-page, as well as that of the Essais published in 1684, conspicuously announced, professed to give “les termes de toutes les Sciences et des Arts,” induced Thomas Corneille, a member of the Academy, to compile Le Dictionnaire des arts et des sciences, which the Academy published with the first edition of their dictionary, Paris, 1694, folio, as a supplement in two volumes containing 1236 pages. It was reprinted at Amsterdam, 1696, fol. 2 vols., and at Paris in 1720, and again in 1732, revised by Fontenelle. A long series of dictionaries of arts and sciences have followed Corneille in placing in their titles the arts before the sciences, which he probably did merely in order to differ from Furetière. Corneille professed to quote no author whom he had not consulted; to take plants from Dioscorides and Matthiolus, medicine from Ettmüller, chemistry from a MS. of Perrault, and architecture, painting and sculpture from Félibien; and to give an abridged history of animals, birds and fishes, and an account of all religious and military orders and their statutes, heresiarchs and heresies, and dignities and charges ancient and modern.
The great dictionary of French, started by the French Academy on February 7, 1639, did not include words specifically related to science and the arts. However, the success of the competing dictionary by Furetière, which boldly claimed on its title page—and in the Essais published in 1684—to include “terms from all the sciences and the arts,” inspired Thomas Corneille, an Academy member, to create Le Dictionnaire des arts et des sciences. The Academy published it alongside the first edition of their dictionary in Paris in 1694, as a supplement in two volumes totaling 1,236 pages. It was reprinted in Amsterdam in 1696 (2 vols.) and again in Paris in 1720 and 1732, revised by Fontenelle. A long series of dictionaries followed Corneille's lead by placing the arts before the sciences in their titles, likely to differentiate from Furetière. Corneille claimed to cite only those authors he consulted; he referenced plants from Dioscorides and Matthiolus, medicine from Ettmüller, chemistry from a manuscript by Perrault, and architecture, painting, and sculpture from Félibien. He also aimed to provide a brief history of animals, birds, and fish, along with details about various religious and military orders and their statutes, heresiarchs and heresies, and ancient and modern dignities and positions.
Pierre Bayle (born on the 18th of November 1647, died on the 28th of December 1706) wrote a very important and valuable work, Dictionnaire historique et critique, Rotterdam, 1697, fol. 2 vols. His design was to make a dictionary of the errors and omissions of Moréri and others, but he was much embarrassed by the numerous editions and supplements of Moréri. A second edition with an additional volume appeared at Amsterdam in 1702, fol. 3 vols. The fourth edition, Rotterdam, 1720, fol. 4 vols., was much enlarged from his manuscripts, and was edited by Prosper Marchand. It contains 3132 pages besides tables, &c. The ninth edition was published at Basel, 1741, fol. 10 vols. It was translated into English from the second edition, London, 1709, fol. 4 vols., with some slight additions and corrections by the author; and again from the fifth edition of 1730 by Birch and Lockman, London, 1734-1740, fol. 5 vols. J.G. de Chaufepié published Nouveau Dictionnaire historique, Amsterdam, 1750-1756, fol. 4 vols., as a supplement to Bayle. It chiefly consists of the articles added by the English translators with many corrections and additions, and about 500 new articles added by himself, and contains in all about 1400 articles. Prosper Marchand, editor of the fourth edition, left at his death on the 14th of January 1756 materials for a supplementary Dictionnaire historique, La Haye, 1758, fol. 2 vols., 891 pages, 136 articles. It had occupied his leisure moments for forty years. Much of his work was written on small scraps of paper, sometimes 20 in half a page and no larger than a nail, in such small characters that not only the editor but the printer had to use powerful magnifiers. Bayle’s dictionary was also translated into German, Leipzig, 1741-1744, fol. 4 vols., with a preface by J.C. Gottsched. It is still a work of great importance and value.
Pierre Bayle (born November 18, 1647, died December 28, 1706) wrote an important and valuable work, Dictionnaire historique et critique, published in Rotterdam in 1697, in 2 volumes. His goal was to create a dictionary that addressed the mistakes and omissions of Moréri and others, but he faced challenges due to the numerous editions and supplements of Moréri. A second edition, with an additional volume, was released in Amsterdam in 1702, in 3 volumes. The fourth edition, published in Rotterdam in 1720, was significantly expanded from his manuscripts and edited by Prosper Marchand. It includes 3132 pages, plus tables, etc. The ninth edition came out in Basel in 1741, in 10 volumes. It was translated into English from the second edition in London in 1709, in 4 volumes, with some minor additions and corrections by the author; it was translated again from the fifth edition of 1730 by Birch and Lockman, published in London from 1734 to 1740, in 5 volumes. J.G. de Chaufepié published Nouveau Dictionnaire historique in Amsterdam from 1750 to 1756, in 4 volumes, as a supplement to Bayle. It mainly consists of the articles added by the English translators, along with many corrections and additions, and about 500 new articles added by himself, totaling around 1400 articles. Prosper Marchand, the editor of the fourth edition, left behind materials for a supplementary Dictionnaire historique, published in The Hague in 1758, in 2 volumes, with 891 pages and 136 articles. He worked on it during his spare time for forty years. Much of his writing was done on small scraps of paper, sometimes fitting 20 items in half a page, no larger than a thumbtack, in such tiny characters that both the editor and the printer had to use powerful magnifying glasses. Bayle’s dictionary was also translated into German, published in Leipzig from 1741 to 1744, in 4 volumes, with a preface by J.C. Gottsched. It remains a work of significant importance and value.
Vincenzo Maria Coronelli, a Franciscan friar, who was born in Venice about 1650, made cosmographer to the republic in 1685, became general of his order in 1702, and was found dead at his study table on the 9th of December 1718, began in 1701 to publish a general alphabetical encyclopaedia, written in Italian, at which he had been working for thirty years, Biblioteca universale sacro-profana. It was to explain more than 300,000 words, to include history and biography as well as all other subjects, and to extend to 45 volumes folio. Volumes 1-39 were to contain the dictionary A to Z; 40, 41, the supplement; 42, retractations and corrections; 43, universal index; 44, index divided into matters; 45, index in various languages. But seven volumes only were published, Venezia, 1701-1706, fol., 5609 pages, A to Caque. The first six volumes have each an index of from 28 to 48 pages (in all 224 pages) of subjects, whether forming articles or incidental. The articles in each are numbered, and amount to 30,269 in the six volumes, which complete the letter B. On an average 3 pages contain 22 articles. Each volume is dedicated to a different patron—the pope, the doge, the king of Spain, &c. This work is remarkable for the extent and completeness of its plan, and for being the first great alphabetical encyclopaedia, as well as for being written in a modern language, but it was hastily written and very incorrect. Never, perhaps, says Tiraboschi (Storia della letteratura italiana, viii. 546), was there so quick a writer; he composed a folio volume as easily as others would a page, but he never perfected his works, and what we have of this book will not induce us to regret the want of the remainder.
Vincenzo Maria Coronelli, a Franciscan friar born in Venice around 1650, was appointed the cosmographer to the republic in 1685, became the general of his order in 1702, and was found dead at his study table on December 9, 1718. In 1701, he started publishing a general alphabetical encyclopedia, written in Italian, called Biblioteca universale sacro-profana, which he had been working on for thirty years. It was intended to cover more than 300,000 words, including history and biography, among other topics, and to extend to 45 folio volumes. Volumes 1-39 were meant to contain the dictionary from A to Z; volumes 40 and 41 were to be the supplement; volume 42 included retractions and corrections; volume 43 was a universal index; volume 44 was an index divided by subject matter; and volume 45 was an index in various languages. However, only seven volumes were published in Venice between 1701 and 1706, totaling 5,609 pages, from A to Caque. The first six volumes each have an index ranging from 28 to 48 pages (224 pages total) of subjects, whether they form articles or are incidental. The articles are numbered, totaling 30,269 in the six volumes that complete the letter B. On average, three pages contain 22 articles. Each volume is dedicated to a different patron—such as the pope, the doge, and the king of Spain. This work is notable for the breadth and thoroughness of its plan, as well as being the first great alphabetical encyclopedia written in a modern language, but it was produced hastily and is very inaccurate. Never, perhaps, says Tiraboschi (Storia della letteratura italiana, viii. 546), was there a faster writer; he composed a folio volume as easily as others would a page, but he never perfected his works, and what we have of this book will not make us regret the missing parts.
The first alphabetical encyclopaedia written in English was the work of a London clergyman, John Harris (born about 1667, elected first secretary of the Royal Society on the 30th of November 1709, died on the 7th of September 1719), Lexicon technicum, or an universal English Dictionary of Arts and Sciences, London, 1704, fol., 1220 pages, 4 plates, with many diagrams and figures printed in the text. Like many subsequent English encyclopaedias the pages are not numbered. It professes not merely to explain the terms used in the arts and sciences, but the arts and sciences themselves. The author complains that he found much less help from previous dictionaries than one would suppose, that Chauvin is full of obsolete school terms, and Corneille gives only bare explanations of terms, which often relate only to simple ideas and common things. He omits theology, antiquity, biography and poetry; gives only technical history, geography and chronology; and in logic, metaphysics, ethics, grammar and rhetoric, merely explains the terms used. In mathematics and anatomy he professes to be very full, but says that the catalogues and places of the stars are very imperfect, as Flamsteed refused to assist him. In botany he gave from Ray, Morrison and Tournefort “a pretty exact botanick lexicon, which was what we really wanted before,” with an account of all the “kinds and subalternate species of plants, and their specific differences” on Ray’s method. He gave a table of fossils from Dr Woodward, professor of medicine in Gresham College, and took great pains to describe the parts of a ship accurately and particularly, going often on board himself for the purpose. In law he abridged from the best writers what he thought necessary. He meant to have given at the end an alphabet for each art and science, and some more plates of anatomy and ships, “but the undertaker could not afford it at the price.” A review of his work, extending to the unusual length of four pages, appeared in the Philosophical Transactions, 1704, p. 1699. This volume was reprinted in 1708. A second volume of 1419 pages and 4 plates appeared in 1710, with a list of about 1300 subscribers. Great part of it consisted of mathematical and astronomical tables, as he intended his work to serve as a small mathematical library. He was allowed by Sir Isaac Newton to print his treatise on acids. He gives a table of logarithms to seven figures of decimals (44 pages), and one of sines, tangents and secants (120 pages), a list of books filling two pages, and an index of the articles in both volumes under 26 heads, filling 50 pages. The longest lists are law (1700 articles), chyrurgery, anatomy, geometry, fortification, botany and music. The mathematical and physical part is considered very able. He often mentions his authorities, and gives lists of books on particular subjects, as botany and chronology. His dictionary was long very popular. The fifth edition was published in 1736, fol. 2 vols. A supplement, including no new subjects, appeared in 1744, London, fol., 996 pages, 6 plates. It was intended to rival Ephraim Chambers’s work (see below), but, being considered a bookseller’s speculation, was not well received.
The first alphabetical encyclopedia written in English was created by a London clergyman, John Harris (born around 1667, elected the first secretary of the Royal Society on November 30, 1709, died on September 7, 1719), Lexicon technicum, or an Universal English Dictionary of Arts and Sciences, London, 1704, fol., 1220 pages, 4 plates, with many diagrams and figures printed in the text. Like many later English encyclopedias, the pages are not numbered. It aims to explain not just the terms used in the arts and sciences, but the arts and sciences themselves. The author notes that he found much less help from previous dictionaries than one might expect, stating that Chauvin is full of outdated school terms, and Corneille only provides brief explanations of terms, which often relate to simple ideas and everyday things. He excludes theology, antiquity, biography, and poetry; covers only technical history, geography, and chronology; and in logic, metaphysics, ethics, grammar, and rhetoric, simply explains the terms used. In mathematics and anatomy, he claims to be very comprehensive but mentions that the catalogs and locations of the stars are quite incomplete, as Flamsteed declined to assist him. In botany, he provided from Ray, Morrison, and Tournefort “a pretty exact botanical lexicon, which was what we truly needed before,” including a description of all the “kinds and subalternate species of plants, and their specific differences” following Ray’s method. He included a table of fossils from Dr. Woodward, professor of medicine at Gresham College, and took great care to accurately describe the parts of a ship, often going aboard himself for this purpose. In law, he summarized from the best writers what he deemed necessary. He intended to include an alphabet for each art and science at the end, as well as more plates of anatomy and ships, “but the publisher couldn’t afford it at that price.” A review of his work, unusually extensive at four pages, appeared in the Philosophical Transactions, 1704, p. 1699. This volume was reprinted in 1708. A second volume of 1419 pages and 4 plates was published in 1710, with a list of about 1300 subscribers. Much of it consisted of mathematical and astronomical tables, as he intended his work to function as a small mathematical library. He was allowed by Sir Isaac Newton to print his treatise on acids. He provided a table of logarithms to seven decimal places (44 pages), and one of sines, tangents, and secants (120 pages), a list of books covering two pages, and an index of the articles in both volumes under 26 headings, taking up 50 pages. The longest lists are in law (1700 articles), surgery, anatomy, geometry, fortification, botany, and music. The mathematical and physical sections are considered very competent. He frequently cites his sources and includes lists of books on specific subjects, like botany and chronology. His dictionary remained popular for a long time. The fifth edition was published in 1736, fol. 2 vols. A supplement, including no new subjects, came out in 1744, London, fol., 996 pages, 6 plates. It aimed to compete with Ephraim Chambers’s work (see below), but was poorly received, being viewed as a bookseller’s venture.
Johann Hübner, rector of the Johanneum in Hamburg, born on the 17th of March 1668, wrote prefaces to two dictionaries written in German, which bore his name, and were long popular. 374 The first was Reales Staats Zeitungs- und Conversations-Lexicon, Leipzig, 1704, 8vo; second edition, 1706, 947 pages; at the end a register of arms, and indexes of Latin and French words; fifth edition, 1711; fifteenth edition 1735, 1119 pages. The thirty-first edition was edited and enlarged by F.A. Rüder, and published by Brockhaus, Leipzig, 1824-1828, 8vo, 4 vols., 3088 pages. It was translated into Hungarian by Fejer, Pesten, 1816, 8vo, 5 vols., 2958 pages. The second, published as a supplement, was Curieuses und reales Natur- Kunst- Berg- Gewerb- und Handlungs-Lexicon, Leipzig, 1712, 8vo, 788 pages, frequently reprinted to 1792. The first relates to the political state of the world, as religion, orders, states, rivers, towns, castles, mountains, genealogy, war, ships; the second to nature, science, art and commerce. They were the work of many authors, of whom Paul Jacob Marpurger, a celebrated and voluminous writer on trade and commerce, born at Nuremberg on the 27th of June 1656, was an extensive contributor, and is the only one named by Hübner.
Johann Hübner, the head of the Johanneum in Hamburg, was born on March 17, 1668. He wrote prefaces for two dictionaries named after him that were popular for a long time. 374 The first one was Reales Staats Zeitungs- und Conversations-Lexicon, published in Leipzig in 1704, 8vo; a second edition came out in 1706, totaling 947 pages, and included a list of arms and indexes for Latin and French terms. The fifth edition was released in 1711, and the fifteenth edition in 1735, with 1119 pages. The thirty-first edition was edited and expanded by F.A. Rüder and published by Brockhaus in Leipzig between 1824 and 1828, spanning 8vo, 4 volumes, and 3088 pages. It was translated into Hungarian by Fejer in Pest in 1816, in 8vo, 5 volumes, and 2958 pages. The second dictionary, published as a supplement, was Curieuses und reales Natur- Kunst- Berg- Gewerb- und Handlungs-Lexicon, published in Leipzig in 1712, 8vo, with 788 pages, and frequently reprinted until 1792. The first dictionary covers the political state of the world, including topics like religion, orders, states, rivers, towns, castles, mountains, genealogy, war, and ships; the second one focuses on nature, science, art, and commerce. They were created by multiple authors, among whom Paul Jacob Marpurger, a well-known and prolific writer on trade and commerce, born in Nuremberg on June 27, 1656, contributed significantly and is the only one mentioned by Hübner.
Johann Theodor Jablonski, who was born at Danzig on the 15th of December 1654, appointed secretary to the newly founded Prussian Academy in 1700, when he went to Berlin, where he died on the 28th of April 1731, published Allgemeines Lexicon der Künste und Wissenschaften, Leipzig, 1721, 4to, a short but excellent encyclopaedia still valued in Germany. It does not include theology, history, geography, biography and genealogy. He not only names his authorities, but gives a list of their works. A new edition in 1748 was increased one-third to 1508 pages. An improved edition, Königsberg and Leipzig, 1767, 4to, 2 vols., 1852 pages, was edited by J.J. Schwabe, public teacher of philosophy at Leipzig.
Johann Theodor Jablonski, born in Danzig on December 15, 1654, was appointed secretary to the newly established Prussian Academy in 1700. He then moved to Berlin, where he passed away on April 28, 1731. He published Allgemeines Lexicon der Künste und Wissenschaften in Leipzig in 1721, a concise yet excellent encyclopedia still respected in Germany. It doesn’t cover theology, history, geography, biography, or genealogy. He not only references his sources but also provides a list of their works. A new edition published in 1748 expanded the content by one-third to 1,508 pages. An improved edition was published in Königsberg and Leipzig in 1767, in 2 volumes with a total of 1,852 pages, edited by J.J. Schwabe, a public teacher of philosophy in Leipzig.
Ephraim Chambers (q.v.) published his Cyclopaedia; or an Universal Dictionary of Art and Sciences, containing an Explication of the Terms and an Account of the Things Signified thereby in the several Arts, Liberal and Mechanical, and the several Sciences, Human and Divine, London, 1728, fol. 2 vols. The dedication to the king is dated October 15, 1727. Chambers endeavoured to connect the scattered articles relating to each subject by a system of references, and to consider “the several matters, not only in themselves, but relatively, or as they respect each other; both to treat them as so many wholes and as so many parts of some greater whole.” Under each article he refers to the subject to which it belongs, and also to its subordinate parts; thus Copyhold has a reference to Tenure, of which it is a particular kind, and other references to Rolls, Custom, Manor, Fine, Charter-land and Freehold. In his preface he gives an “analysis of the divisions of knowledge,” 47 in number, with classed lists of the articles belonging to each, intended to serve as table of contents and also as a rubric or directory indicating the order in which the articles should be read. But it does so very imperfectly, as the lists are curtailed by many et caeteras; thus 19 occur in a list of 119 articles under Anatomy, which has nearly 2200 articles in Rees’s index. He omits etymologies unless “they appeared of some significance”; he gives only one grammatical form of each word, unless peculiar ideas are arbitrarily attached to different forms, as precipitate, precipitant, precipitation, when each has an article; and he omits complex ideas generally known, and thus “gets free of a vast load of plebeian words.” His work, he says, is a collection, not the produce of one man’s wit, for that would go but a little way, but of the whole commonwealth of learning. “Nobody that fell in my way has been spared, antient or modern, foreign nor domestic, Christian or Jew nor heathen.” To the subjects given by Harris he adds theology, metaphysics, ethics, politics, logic, grammar, rhetoric and poetry, but excludes history, biography, genealogy, geography and chronology, except their technical parts. A second edition appeared in 1738, fol. 2 vols., 2466 pages, “retouched and amended in a thousand places.” A few articles are added and some others enlarged, but he was prevented from doing more because “the booksellers were alarmed with a bill in parliament containing a clause to oblige the publishers of all improved editions of books to print their improvements separately.” The bill after passing the Commons was unexpectedly thrown out by the Lords; but fearing that it might be revived, the booksellers thought it best to retreat though more than twenty sheets had been printed. Five other editions were published in London, 1739 to 1751-1752, besides one in Dublin, 1742, all in 2 vols. fol. An Italian translation, Venezia, 1748-1749, 4to, 9 vols., was the first complete Italian encyclopaedia. When Chambers was in France in 1739 he rejected very favourable proposals to publish an edition there dedicated to Louis XV. His work was judiciously, honestly and carefully done, and long maintained its popularity. But it had many defects and omissions, as he was well aware; and at his death, on the 15th of May 1740, he had collected and arranged materials for seven new volumes. John Lewis Scott was employed by the booksellers to select such articles as were fit for the press and to supply others. He is said to have done this very efficiently until appointed sub-preceptor to the prince of Wales and Prince Edward. His task was entrusted to Dr (afterwards called Sir John) Hill, who performed it very hastily, and with characteristic carelessness and self-sufficiency, copying freely from his own writings. The Supplement was published in London, 1753, fol. 2 vols., 3307 pages and 12 plates. As Hill was a botanist, the botanical part, which had been very defective in the Cyclopaedia, was the best.
Ephraim Chambers (q.v.) published his Cyclopaedia; or an Universal Dictionary of Art and Sciences, containing an Explanation of the Terms and an Account of the Things Signified thereby in the various Arts, Liberal and Mechanical, and the various Sciences, Human and Divine, London, 1728, fol. 2 vols. The dedication to the king is dated October 15, 1727. Chambers aimed to connect the scattered articles related to each subject through a system of references and to consider “the various matters, not only in themselves but in relation to each other; treating them both as whole entities and as parts of a greater whole.” Under each article, he points to the relevant subject and its subordinate parts; for example, Copyhold refers to Tenure, of which it is a specific type, and includes other references to Rolls, Custom, Manor, Fine, Charter-land, and Freehold. In his preface, he provides an “analysis of the divisions of knowledge,” numbered at 47, along with classified lists of the articles in each, meant to function as a table of contents and also as a rubric or directory indicating the order in which the articles should be read. However, this is quite imperfect, as the lists are shortened by many et caeteras; for example, 19 appear in a list of 119 articles under Anatomy, which has nearly 2200 articles in Rees’s index. He does not include etymologies unless “they seemed significant”; he presents only one grammatical form of each word, unless unique ideas are tied to different forms, such as precipitate, precipitant, precipitation, where each has its own article; and he generally excludes complex ideas that are widely known, hence "gets rid of a considerable amount of common words." He states that his work is a collection, not the result of one individual's creativity, as that would go only so far, but of the entire body of knowledge. “No one who crossed my path has been overlooked, whether ancient or modern, foreign or domestic, Christian or Jew or heathen.” To the subjects listed by Harris, he adds theology, metaphysics, ethics, politics, logic, grammar, rhetoric, and poetry, but leaves out history, biography, genealogy, geography, and chronology, except for their technical aspects. A second edition was released in 1738, fol. 2 vols., 2466 pages, “retouched and amended in a thousand places.” Some articles were added and others expanded, but he couldn’t do more because “the booksellers were worried about a bill in parliament that included a clause requiring publishers of all improved editions of books to print their improvements separately.” The bill, after passing the Commons, was unexpectedly rejected by the Lords; but fearing it might be reintroduced, the booksellers decided to pull back even though more than twenty sheets had been printed. Five additional editions were published in London from 1739 to 1751-1752, along with one in Dublin in 1742, all in 2 vols. fol. An Italian translation, Venezia, 1748-1749, 4to, 9 vols., was the first complete Italian encyclopedia. When Chambers was in France in 1739, he turned down very favorable offers to publish an edition there dedicated to Louis XV. His work was done judiciously, honestly, and carefully, and it remained popular for a long time. However, it had many flaws and omissions, which he was well aware of; and at his death on May 15, 1740, he had gathered and organized materials for seven new volumes. John Lewis Scott was hired by the booksellers to select articles suitable for publication and to provide others. He is said to have done this very effectively until he was appointed sub-preceptor to the Prince of Wales and Prince Edward. His task was then passed on to Dr (later known as Sir John) Hill, who carried it out very quickly, with characteristic carelessness and overconfidence, copying freely from his own writings. The Supplement was published in London in 1753, fol. 2 vols., 3307 pages and 12 plates. Since Hill was a botanist, the botanical section, which had been severely lacking in the Cyclopaedia, was the strongest part.
Abraham Rees (1743-1825), a famous Nonconformist minister, published a revised and enlarged edition, “with the supplement and modern improvements incorporated in one alphabet,” London, 1778-1788, fol. 2 vols., 5010 pages (but not paginated), 159 plates. It was published in 418 numbers at 6d. each. Rees says that he has added more than 4400 new articles. At the end he gives an index of articles, classed under 100 heads, numbering about 57,000 and filling 80 pages. The heads, with 39 cross references, are arranged alphabetically. Subsequently there were reprints.
Abraham Rees (1743-1825), a well-known Nonconformist minister, published a revised and expanded edition, “with the supplement and modern improvements combined in one alphabetical format,” in London, 1778-1788, 2 volumes, 5010 pages (not paginated), 159 plates. It was released in 418 parts at 6d. each. Rees claims to have added more than 4400 new articles. At the end, he provides an index of articles, categorized under 100 headings, totaling about 57,000 entries and occupying 80 pages. The headings, along with 39 cross-references, are organized alphabetically. There were later reprints.
One of the largest and most comprehensive encyclopaedias was undertaken and in a great measure completed by Johann Heinrich Zedler, a bookseller of Leipzig, who was born at Breslau 7th January 1706, made a Prussian commerzienrath in 1731, and died at Leipzig in 1760,—Grosses vollständiges Universal Lexicon Aller Wissenschaften und Künste welche bishero durch menschlichen Verstand und Witz erfunden und verbessert worden, Halle and Leipzig, 1732-1750, fol. 64 vols., 64,309 pages; and Nöthige Supplement, ib. 1751-1754, vols. i. to iv., A to Caq, 3016 pages. The columns, two in a page, are numbered, varying from 1356 in vol. li. to 2588 in vol. xlix. Each volume has a dedication, with a portrait. The first nine are the emperor, the kings of Prussia and Poland, the empress of Russia, and the kings of England, France, Poland, Denmark and Sweden. The dedications, of which two are in verse, and all are signed by Zedler, amount to 459 pages. The supplement has no dedications or portraits. The preface to the first volume of the work is by Johann Peter von Ludewig, chancellor of the university of Halle (born 15th August 1690, died 6th September 1743). Nine editors were employed, whom Ludewig compares to the nine muses; and the whole of each subject was entrusted to the same person, that all its parts might be uniformly treated. Carl Günther Ludovici (born at Leipzig 7th August 1707, public teacher of philosophy there from 1734, died 3rd July 1778) edited the work from vol. xix., beginning the letter M, and published in 1739, to the end, and also the supplement. The work was published by subscription. Johann Heinrich Wolff, an eminent merchant and shopkeeper in Leipzig, born there on the 29th of April 1690, came to Zedler’s assistance by advancing the funds for expenses and becoming answerable for the subscriptions, and spared no cost that the work might be complete. Zedler very truly says, in his preface to vol. xviii., that his Universal Lexicon was a work such as no time and no nation could show, and both in its plan and execution it is much more comprehensive and complete than any previous encyclopaedia. Colleges, says Ludewig, where all sciences are taught and studied, are on that account called universities, and their teaching is called studium universale; but the Universal Lexicon contains not only what they teach in theology, jurisprudence, medicine, 375 philosophy, history, mathematics, &c., but also many other things belonging to courts, chanceries, hunting, forests, war and peace, and to artists, artizans, housekeepers and merchants not thought of in colleges. Its plan embraces not only history, geography and biography, but also genealogy, topography, and from vol. xviii., published in 1738, lives of illustrious living persons. Zedler inquires why death alone should make a deserving man capable of having his services and worthy deeds made known to the world in print. The lives of the dead, he says, are to be found in books, but those of the living are not to be met with anywhere, and would often be more useful if known. In consequence of this preface, many lives and genealogies were sent to him for publication. Cross references generally give not only the article referred to, but also the volume and column, and, when necessary, such brief information as may distinguish the word referred to from others similar but of different meaning. Lists of authorities, often long, exact and valuable are frequently appended to the articles. This work, which is well and carefully compiled, and very trustworthy, is still a most valuable book of reference on many subjects, especially topography, genealogy and biography. The genealogies and family histories are excellent, and many particulars are given of the lives and works of authors not easily found elsewhere.
One of the largest and most detailed encyclopedias was initiated and largely completed by Johann Heinrich Zedler, a bookseller from Leipzig. He was born in Breslau on January 7, 1706, became a Prussian commerzienrath in 1731, and died in Leipzig in 1760. The work is titled Grosses vollständiges Universal Lexicon Aller Wissenschaften und Künste welche bishero durch menschlichen Verstand und Witz erfunden und verbessert worden, published in Halle and Leipzig from 1732 to 1750, comprising 64 volumes and 64,309 pages; along with a Nöthige Supplement, ib. 1751-1754, volumes i to iv., A to Caq, totaling 3,016 pages. Each page features two columns, numbered from 1,356 in volume li to 2,588 in volume xlix. Every volume includes a dedication and a portrait. The first nine dedications are to the emperor, the kings of Prussia and Poland, the empress of Russia, and the kings of England, France, Poland, Denmark, and Sweden. The dedications, with two in verse, total 459 pages and are all signed by Zedler. The supplement does not include dedications or portraits. The preface for the first volume was written by Johann Peter von Ludewig, chancellor of the university of Halle (born August 15, 1690, died September 6, 1743). Nine editors worked on the project, whom Ludewig likens to the nine muses, and each subject was assigned to a single editor to ensure uniform treatment. Carl Günther Ludovici (born Leipzig, August 7, 1707, a public teacher of philosophy there from 1734, died July 3, 1778) edited from volume xix, starting with the letter M, and published it in 1739 through to the end, including the supplement. The work was funded by subscriptions. Johann Heinrich Wolff, a prominent merchant and shopkeeper from Leipzig, born April 29, 1690, supported Zedler by advancing funds and guaranteeing subscriptions, ensuring no expense was spared for the completeness of the work. Zedler rightly notes in his preface to volume xviii that his Universal Lexicon is a work unmatched in any time or country, and in terms of its structure and execution, it is far more comprehensive and complete than any previous encyclopedia. Ludewig mentions that colleges, where all sciences are taught and studied, are thus called universities, and their teaching is referred to as studium universale; however, the Universal Lexicon includes not only what is taught in theology, law, medicine, philosophy, history, mathematics, etc., but also many other topics related to courts, chanceries, hunting, forests, war and peace, as well as skills relevant to artists, tradespeople, homeowners, and merchants that colleges do not cover. Its scope includes not just history, geography, and biography, but also genealogy and topography, and from volume xviii, published in 1738, the lives of notable living individuals. Zedler questions why only death qualifies a deserving person to have their services and accomplishments recognized in print. He states that the lives of the deceased can be found in books, but those of the living are often absent and could be more beneficial if known. As a result of this preface, many biographies and genealogies were sent to him for publication. Cross-references typically provide not only the referenced article but also the volume and column number, and when needed, brief details to differentiate the word from others with similar but distinct meanings. Often extensive and valuable lists of sources are appended to the articles. This meticulously compiled and highly reliable work remains a valuable reference for many subjects, especially topography, genealogy, and biography. The genealogies and family histories are outstanding, with many details on the lives and works of authors that are hard to find elsewhere.
A work on a new plan was published by Dennis de Coetlogon, a Frenchman naturalized in England, who styled himself “Knight of St Lazare, M.D., and member of the Royal Academy of Angers”—An Universal History of Arts and Sciences, London, 1745, fol. 2 vols., 2529 pages, 33 plates and 161 articles arranged alphabetically. He “endeavours to render each treatise as complete as possible, avoiding above all things needless repetitions, and never puzzling the reader with the least reference.” Theology is divided into several treatises; Philosophy into Ethicks, Logick and Metaphysick, each under its letter; and Physick is subdivided into Anatomy, Botany, Geography, Geometry, &c. Military Art is divided into Army, Fortification, Gunnery. The royal licence is dated 13th March 1740-1741, the dedication is to the duke of Gisors, the pages are numbered, there is an appendix of 35 pages of astronomical tables, and the two indexes, one to each volume, fill 69 pages, and contain about 9000 subjects. The type is large and the style diffuse, but the subject matter is sometimes curious. The author says that his work is the only one of the kind, and that he wrote out with his own hand every line, even the index. But notwithstanding the novelty of his plan, his work does not seem ever to have been popular.
A work with a new approach was published by Dennis de Coetlogon, a Frenchman naturalized in England, who called himself “Knight of St Lazare, M.D., and member of the Royal Academy of Angers”—An Universal History of Arts and Sciences, London, 1745, 2 volumes, 2529 pages, 33 plates, and 161 articles organized alphabetically. He aimed to make each treatise as thorough as possible, avoiding unnecessary repetition and never confusing the reader with vague references. Theology is split into several treatises; Philosophy includes Ethics, Logic, and Metaphysics, each under its own letter; and Medicine is broken down into Anatomy, Botany, Geography, Geometry, etc. Military Science is categorized into Army, Fortification, and Gunnery. The royal license is dated March 13, 1740-1741, the dedication is to the Duke of Gisors, the pages are numbered, there’s a 35-page appendix of astronomical tables, and the two indexes, one for each volume, take up 69 pages and cover around 9000 topics. The type is large, and the writing style is verbose, but the content can be intriguing at times. The author claims that his work is the only one of its kind and that he personally wrote every line, even the index. However, despite the uniqueness of his plan, his work does not seem to have gained much popularity.
Gianfrancesco Pivati, born at Padua in 1689, died at Venice in 1764, secretary of the Academy of Sciences at Venice, who had published in 1744 a 4to volume containing a Dizionario universale, wrote Nuovo dizionario scientifico e curioso sacro-profano, Venezia, 1746-1751, fol. 10 vols., 7791 pages, 597 plates. It is a general encyclopaedia, including geography, but not history or biography. He gives frequent references to his authorities and much curious information. His preliminary discourse (80 pages) contains a history of the several sciences from mathematics to geography. The book was published by subscription, and at the end of the last volume is a Catalogo dei Signori Associati, 252 in number, who took 266 copies. It is also remarkable for the number of its plates, which are engraved on copper. In each volume they are placed together at the end, and are preceded by an explanatory index of subjects referring to the plates and to the articles they illustrate.
Gianfrancesco Pivati, born in Padua in 1689, died in Venice in 1764. He was the secretary of the Academy of Sciences in Venice and published a 4to volume in 1744 containing a Dizionario universale. He also wrote Nuovo dizionario scientifico e curioso sacro-profano, published in Venice from 1746 to 1751, consisting of 10 volumes, 7,791 pages, and 597 plates. This work serves as a general encyclopedia that covers geography but not history or biography. He frequently cites his sources and includes a wealth of interesting information. His introductory discourse, which spans 80 pages, outlines the history of various sciences from mathematics to geography. The book was released through subscriptions, and at the end of the final volume, there is a Catalogo dei Signori Associati, listing 252 individuals who purchased a total of 266 copies. It is also notable for its extensive number of plates, which are engraved on copper. In each volume, these plates are compiled at the end and are accompanied by an explanatory index of subjects relevant to both the plates and the articles they illustrate.
One of the greatest and most remarkable literary enterprises of the 18th century, the famous French Encyclopédie, originated in a French translation of Ephraim Chambers’s Cyclopaedia, begun in 1743 and finished in 1745 by John Mills, an Englishman resident in France, assisted by Gottfried Sellius, a very learned native of Danzig, who, after being a professor at Halle and Göttingen, and residing in Holland, had settled in Paris. They applied to Lebreton, the king’s printer, to publish the work, to fulfil the formalities required by French law, with which, as foreigners, they were not acquainted, and to solicit a royal privilege. This he obtained, but in his own name alone. Mills complained so loudly and bitterly of this deception that Lebreton had to acknowledge formally that the privilege belonged en toute propriété to John Mills. But, as he again took care not to acquaint Mills with the necessary legal formalities, this title soon became invalid. Mills then agreed to grant him part of his privilege, and in May 1745 the work was announced as Encyclopédie ou dictionnaire universel des arts et des sciences, folio, four volumes of 250 to 260 sheets each, with a fifth of at least 120 plates, and a vocabulary or list of articles in French, Latin, German, Italian and Spanish, with other lists for each language explained in French, so that foreigners might easily find any article wanted. It was to be published by subscription at 135 livres, but for large paper copies 200 livres, the first volume to be delivered in June 1746, and the two last at the end of 1748. The subscription list, which was considerable, closed on the 31st of December 1745. Mills demanded an account, which Lebreton, who had again omitted certain formalities, insultingly refused. Mills brought an action against him, but before it was decided Lebreton procured the revocation of the privilege as informal, and obtained another for himself dated the 21st of January 1746. Thus, for unwittingly contravening regulations with which his unscrupulous publisher ought to have made him acquainted, Mills was despoiled of the work he had both planned and executed, and had to return to England. Jean Paul de Gua de Malves, professor of philosophy in the college of France (born at Carcassonne in 1713, died on the 15th of June 1785), was then engaged as editor merely to correct errors and add new discoveries. But he proposed a thorough revision, and obtained the assistance of many learned men and artists, among whom Desessarts names Louis, Condillac, d’Alembert and Diderot. But the publishers did not think his reputation high enough to ensure success, withheld their confidence, and often opposed his plans as too expensive. Tired at last of disputes, and too easily offended, de Gua resigned the editorship. The publishers, who had already made heavy advances, offered it to Diderot, who was probably recommended to them by his very well received Dictionnaire universel de medicine, Paris, 1746-1748, fol. 6 vols., published by Briasson, David and Durand, with notes and additions by Julien Busson, doctor regent of the faculty of medicine of Paris. It was a translation, made with the assistance of Eidous and Toussaint, of the celebrated work of Dr Robert James, inventor of the fever powders, A Medicinal Dictionary, London, 1743-1745, fol. 3 vols., 3275 pages and 98 plates, comprising a history of drugs, with chemistry, botany and natural history so far as they relate to medicine, and with an historical preface of 99 pages (in the translation 136). The proposed work was to have been similar in character. De Gua’s papers were handed over to Diderot in great confusion. He soon persuaded the publishers to undertake a far more original and comprehensive work. His friend d’Alembert undertook to edit the mathematics. Other subjects were allotted to 21 contributors, each of whom received the articles on this subject in Mills’ translation to serve as a basis for his work. But they were in most cases so badly composed and translated, so full of errors and omissions, that they were not used. The contributions were to be finished in three months, but none was ready in time, except Music by Rousseau, which he admits was hastily and badly done. Diderot was imprisoned at Vincennes, on the 29th of July 1749, for his Lettre sur les aveugles. He was closely confined for 28 days, and was then for three months and ten days a prisoner on parole in the castle. This did not stop the printing, though it caused delay. The prospectus by Diderot appeared in November 1750. The work was to form 8 vols. fol., with at least 600 plates. The first volume was published in July 1751, and delivered to the subscribers in August. The second appeared in January 1752. An arrêt of the council, 9th of February, suppressed both volumes as injurious to the king’s authority and to religion. Malesherbes, director-general of the Librairie, stopped the issue of volume ii., 9th of February, and on the 21st went with a lettre de cachet to Lebreton’s to seize the plates and the MSS., but did not find, says Barbier, even those of volume iii., as they had been taken to his own 376 house by Diderot and one of the publishers. The Jesuits tried to continue the work, but in vain. It was less easy, says Grimm, than to ruin philosophers. The Dictionnaire de Trévoux pronounced the completion of the Encyclopédie impossible, and the project ridiculous (5th edition, 1752, iii, 750). The government had to request the editors to resume the work as one honourable to the nation. The marquis d’Argenson writes, 7th of May 1752, that Mme de Pompadour had been urging them to proceed, and at the end of June he reports them as again at work. Volume iii., rather improved by the delay, appeared in October 1753; and volume vii., completing G, in November 1757. The clamours against the work soon recommenced. D’ Alembert retired in January 1758, weary of sermons, satires and intolerant and absurd censors. The parlement of Paris, by an arrêt, 23rd of January 1759, stopped the sale and distribution of the Encyclopédie, Helvetius’s De l’Esprit, and six other books; and by an arrêt, 6th February, ordered them all to be burnt, but referred the Encyclopédie for examination to a commission of nine. An arrêt du conseil, 7th of March, revoked the privilege of 1746, and stopped the printing. Volume viii. was then in the press. Malesherbes warned Diderot that he would have his papers seized next day; and when Diderot said he could not make a selection, or find a place of safety at such short notice, Malesherbes said, “Send them to me, they will not look for them there.” This, according to Mme de Vandeul, Diderot’s daughter, was done with perfect success. In the article Pardonner Diderot refers to these persecutions, and says, “In the space of some months we have seen our honour, fortune, liberty and life imperilled.” Malesherbes, Choiseul and Mme de Pompadour protected the work; Diderot obtained private permission to go on printing, but with a strict charge not to publish any part until the whole was finished. The Jesuits were condemned by the parlement of Paris in 1762, and by the king in November 1764. Volume i. of plates appeared in 1762, and volumes viii. to xvii., ten volumes of text, 9408 pages, completing the work, with the 4th volume of plates in 1765, when there were 4250 subscribers. The work circulated freely in the provinces and in foreign countries, and was secretly distributed in Paris and Versailles. The general assembly of the clergy, on the 20th of June 1765, approved articles in which it was condemned, and on the 27th of September adopted a mémoire to be presented to the king. They were forbidden to publish their acts which favoured the Jesuits, but Lebreton was required to give a list of his subscribers, and was put into the Bastille for eight days in 1766. A royal order was sent to the subscribers to deliver their copies to the lieutenant of police. Voltaire in 1774 relates that, at a petit souper of the king at Trianon, there was a debate on the composition of gunpowder. Mme de Pompadour said she did not know how her rouge or her silk stockings were made. The duc de la Vallière regretted that the king had confiscated their encyclopaedias, which could decide everything. The king said he had been told that the work was most dangerous, but as he wished to judge for himself, he sent for a copy. Three servants with difficulty brought in the 21 volumes. The company found everything they looked for, and the king allowed the confiscated copies to be returned. Mme de Pompadour died on the 15th of April 1764. Lebreton had half of the property in the work, and Durand, David and Briasson had the rest. Lebreton, who had the largest printing office in Paris, employed 50 workmen in printing the last ten volumes. He had the articles set in type exactly as the authors sent them in, and when Diderot had corrected the last proof of each sheet, he and his foreman, hastily, secretly and by night, unknown to his partners in the work, cut out whatever seemed to them daring, or likely to give offence, mutilated most of the best articles without any regard to the consecutiveness of what was left, and burnt the manuscript as they proceeded. The printing of the work was nearly finished when Diderot, having to consult one of his great philosophical articles in the letter S, found it entirely mutilated. He was confounded, says Grimm, at discovering the atrocity of the printer; all the best articles were in the same confusion. This discovery put him into a state of frenzy and despair from rage and grief. His daughter never heard him speak coolly on the subject, and after twenty years it still made him angry. He believed that every one knew as well as he did what was wanting in each article, but in fact the mutilation was not perceived even by the authors, and for many years was known to few persons. Diderot at first refused to correct the remaining proofs, or to do more than write the explanations of the plates. He required, according to Mme de Vandeul, that a copy, now at St Petersburg with his library, should be printed with columns in which all was restored. The mutilations began as far back as the article Intendant. But how far, says Rosenkranz, this murderous, incredible and infamous operation was carried cannot now be exactly ascertained. Diderot’s articles, not including those on arts and trades, were reprinted in Naigeon’s edition (Paris, 1821, 8vo, 22 vols.). They fill 4132 pages, and number 1139, of which 601 were written for the last ten volumes. They are on very many subjects, but principally on grammar, history, morality, philosophy, literature and metaphysics. As a contributor, his special department of the work was philosophy, and arts and trades. He passed whole days in workshops, and began by examining a machine carefully, then he had it taken to pieces and put together again, then he watched it at work, and lastly worked it himself. He thus learned to use such complicated machines as the stocking and cut velvet looms. He at first received 1200 livres a year as editor, but afterwards 2500 livres a volume, besides a final sum of 20,000 livres. Although after his engagement he did not suffer from poverty as he had done before, he was obliged to sell his library in order to provide for his daughter. De Jaucourt spared neither time, trouble nor expense in perfecting the work, for which he received nothing, and he employed several secretaries at it for ten years. To pay them he had to sell his house in Paris, which Lebreton bought with the profits derived from De Jaucourt’s work. All the publishers made large fortunes; their expenses amounted to 1,158,000 livres and their profits to 2,162,000. D’Alembert’s “Discours Preliminaire,” 45 pages, written in 1750, prefixed to the first volume, and delivered before the French Academy on his reception on the 19th of December 1754, consists of a systematic arrangement of the various branches of knowledge, and an account of their progress since their revival. His system, chiefly taken from Bacon, divides them into three classes, under memory, reason and imagination. Arts and trades are placed under natural history, superstition and magic under science de Dieu, and orthography and heraldry under logic. The literary world is divided into three corresponding classes—érudits, philosophes and beaux esprits. As in Ephraim Chambers’s Cyclopaedia, history and biography were excluded, except incidentally; thus Aristotle’s life is given in the article Aristotelisme. The science to which an article belongs is generally named at the beginning of it, references are given to other articles, and the authors’ names are marked by initials, of which lists are given in the earlier volumes, but sometimes their names are subscribed in full. Articles by Diderot have no mark, and those inserted by him as editor have an asterisk prefixed. Among the contributors were Voltaire, Euler, Marmontel, Montesquieu, D’Anville, D’Holbach and Turgot, the leader of the new school of economists which made its first appearance in the pages of the Encyclopédie. Louis wrote the surgery, Daubenton natural history, Eidous heraldry and art, Toussaint jurisprudence, and Condamine articles on South America.
One of the greatest and most impressive literary projects of the 18th century, the famous French Encyclopédie, started as a translation of Ephraim Chambers’s Cyclopaedia, which was initiated in 1743 and completed in 1745 by John Mills, an Englishman living in France. He was assisted by Gottfried Sellius, a highly educated native of Danzig who had been a professor in Halle and Göttingen, and had lived in Holland before settling in Paris. They sought out Lebreton, the king’s printer, to publish the work and to handle the legal requirements set by French law, which they were unfamiliar with as foreigners, as well as to request a royal privilege. He secured this privilege, but only in his own name. Mills complained so loudly and vehemently about this trickery that Lebreton had to formally acknowledge that the privilege actually belonged en toute propriété to John Mills. However, he again failed to inform Mills about the necessary legal formalities, and as a result, the title quickly became invalid. Mills then agreed to share part of his privilege with Lebreton, and in May 1745, the work was announced as Encyclopédie ou dictionnaire universel des arts et des sciences, folio, consisting of four volumes of 250 to 260 sheets each, alongside a fifth volume containing at least 120 plates, plus a vocabulary or list of articles in French, Latin, German, Italian, and Spanish, with additional lists for each language explained in French to facilitate foreign users in finding any articles they needed. It was set to be published by subscription at 135 livres, or 200 livres for large paper copies, with the first volume slated for delivery in June 1746, and the last two by the end of 1748. The subscription list, which was significant, closed on December 31, 1745. Mills requested an account of the subscriptions, but Lebreton, who had again omitted certain formalities, rudely refused. Mills filed a lawsuit against him, but before it was resolved, Lebreton managed to have the privilege revoked on the grounds that it was informal, subsequently securing a new one for himself dated January 21, 1746. Thus, due to unwittingly violating regulations that his unscrupulous publisher should have informed him about, Mills lost both the work he had conceived and carried out, and he had to return to England. Jean Paul de Gua de Malves, a professor of philosophy at the College of France (born in Carcassonne in 1713, died June 15, 1785), was then brought in as editor merely to correct mistakes and add new discoveries. However, he proposed a complete overhaul, gaining the collaboration of many learned individuals and artists, including Louis, Condillac, d’Alembert, and Diderot, as identified by Desessarts. The publishers, however, felt his reputation wasn't strong enough to ensure success, withheld their support, and often opposed his ideas as being too costly. Eventually frustrated with the constant disputes and too easily offended, de Gua resigned from the editorship. The publishers, who had already made substantial advances, offered the position to Diderot, likely recommended due to his well-received Dictionnaire universel de médecine, published in Paris from 1746-1748 in 6 volumes by Briasson, David, and Durand, with notes and additions from Julien Busson, doctor regent of the faculty of medicine in Paris. This was a translation, aided by Eidous and Toussaint, of the renowned work by Dr. Robert James, who invented fever powders, titled A Medicinal Dictionary, published in London from 1743-1745 in 3 volumes, comprising 3,275 pages and 98 plates, covering the history of drugs alongside chemistry, botany, and natural history as they relate to medicine, with a historical preface of 99 pages (136 in translation). The proposed work was intended to have a similar scope. De Gua’s documents were handed over to Diderot in disarray. He quickly convinced the publishers to undertake a far more original and comprehensive project. His friend d’Alembert agreed to edit the mathematics section. Other topics were assigned to 21 contributors, each of whom was given the articles on their subjects from Mills’ translation to serve as a foundation for their work. However, in most instances, the articles were poorly written and translated, riddled with errors and omissions, and thus were not used. The contributions were meant to be completed in three months, but only one, Music by Rousseau, was ready on time, which he admitted was done hastily and poorly. Diderot was imprisoned at Vincennes on July 29, 1749, for his Lettre sur les aveugles. He was held in confinement for 28 days and then spent an additional three months and ten days under parole at the castle. This did not halt printing, although it caused delays. Diderot’s prospectus was released in November 1750, outlining a work that would comprise 8 folio volumes with at least 600 plates. The first volume was published in July 1751 and delivered to subscribers in August. The second volume was released in January 1752. An arrêt from the council on February 9 suppressed both volumes as harmful to the king’s authority and to religion. Malesherbes, director-general of the Librairie, halted the release of volume ii. on February 9, and on the 21st, he went to Lebreton’s with a lettre de cachet to seize the plates and manuscripts, but according to Barbier, he didn’t even find those for volume iii., as they had been taken to his own 376 house by Diderot and one of the publishers. The Jesuits tried to continue the work, but to no avail. It was less straightforward, according to Grimm, than ruining philosophers. The Dictionnaire de Trévoux proclaimed the continuation of the Encyclopédie impossible and the project absurd (5th edition, 1752, iii, 750). The government was then asked to urge the editors to resume the work, framing it as honorable to the nation. The marquis d’Argenson wrote on May 7, 1752, that Mme de Pompadour had been pressing them to continue, and by the end of June, he noted that they were back at work. Volume iii, which benefited from the delay, was released in October 1753; volume vii, completing the letter G, came out in November 1757. Soon after, opposition to the work resumed. D’Alembert withdrew in January 1758, tired of the sermons, satirical commentary, and intolerant and ridiculous censors. The parlement of Paris, through an arrêt, on January 23, 1759, ceased the sale and distribution of the Encyclopédie, Helvetius’s De l’Esprit, and six other books; and on February 6, another arrêt ordered all of them to be burned, but the Encyclopédie was referred for examination by a commission of nine. An arrêt du conseil on March 7 revoked the 1746 privilege and halted the printing process. Volume viii. was already in the press. Malesherbes warned Diderot that his papers would be seized the next day, and when Diderot expressed his inability to select or find a safe place for them at such short notice, Malesherbes advised, “Send them to me, they won't look for them there.” According to Mme de Vandeul, Diderot’s daughter, this was executed successfully. In the article Pardonner, Diderot mentions these persecutions, stating, “Within a few months, our honor, fortune, liberty, and life were at risk.” Malesherbes, Choiseul, and Mme de Pompadour defended the work; Diderot received private permission to continue printing, but with a firm directive not to publish any part until it was entirely finished. The Jesuits were condemned by the parlement of Paris in 1762 and by the king in November 1764. Volume i. of plates was released in 1762, and volumes viii. to xvii., comprising ten volumes of text and totaling 9,408 pages, completed the project, along with the 4th volume of plates in 1765, at which point there were 4,250 subscribers. The work circulated freely in the provinces and abroad, and was secretly distributed in Paris and Versailles. The general assembly of the clergy, on June 20, 1765, accepted articles that condemned the work, and on September 27, they approved a mémoire to present to the king. They were barred from publishing their resolutions that supported the Jesuits, but Lebreton was required to provide a list of his subscribers and ended up in the Bastille for eight days in 1766. A royal decree was issued for subscribers to return their copies to the police lieutenant. Voltaire recounted in 1774 that, during a royal dinner at Trianon, there was a discussion about gunpowder composition. Mme de Pompadour remarked that she didn’t know how her rouge or silk stockings were made. The duc de la Vallière expressed regret over the king seizing their encyclopedias, which could settle any debate. The king mentioned he had been informed that the work was extremely dangerous, but he wished to determine for himself, so he ordered a copy. Three servants struggled to bring in the 21 volumes. The attendees found everything they searched for, and the king permitted the confiscated copies to be returned. Mme de Pompadour passed away on April 15, 1764. Lebreton owned half the rights to the work, while Durand, David, and Briasson held the rest. Lebreton, who ran the largest printing operation in Paris, had 50 workers for printing the final ten volumes. He set the articles in type exactly as the authors submitted them, and when Diderot finished correcting the last proof of each sheet, he and his foreman would, hastily and secretly at night, without the knowledge of his business partners, delete anything they found daring or potentially offensive, mutilating many of the best articles without considering the continuity of what remained and incinerating the manuscripts as they went. The printing was nearly complete when Diderot discovered that one of his significant philosophical articles in the letter S was completely cut up. He was horrified, as noted by Grimm, to find the printer had committed such an atrocity; all the best articles were similarly butchered. This revelation drove him into a state of rage and despair. His daughter claimed he never spoke calmly about the matter, and it continued to anger him even after twenty years. He assumed everyone else was just as aware as he was of what was missing in each item, though in reality, the mutilation went unnoticed even by the authors, and for many years, only a few knew about it. Diderot initially refused to correct the remaining proofs or do anything apart from writing explanations for the plates. According to Mme de Vandeul, he insisted that a copy, now in St. Petersburg with his library, be printed with columns restoring everything. The mutilations began with the article Intendant. However, how extensive this brutal, outrageous, and infamous operation was cannot now be determined precisely. Diderot’s articles, excluding those on arts and trades, were reprinted in Naigon's edition (Paris, 1821, 8vo, 22 vols.). They comprise 4,132 pages and number 1,139, of which 601 were written for the last ten volumes. They cover many themes, primarily grammar, history, morality, philosophy, literature, and metaphysics. As a contributor, his specific role was in philosophy, as well as arts and trades. He spent entire days in workshops, starting by closely examining a machine, then having it taken apart and reassembled, observing it while in operation, and finally operating it himself. This way, he learned to use complex machines like knitting and cut velvet looms. Initially, he earned 1,200 livres a year as editor, later receiving 2,500 livres per volume, plus a final total of 20,000 livres. Although post-engagement he did not face the poverty he had previously endured, he still had to sell his library to support his daughter. De Jaucourt spared neither time, effort, nor expense in refining the work, receiving nothing for it, and he employed several secretaries for ten years to assist in the project. To pay them, he had to sell his Paris home, which Lebreton bought with the profits from De Jaucourt's work. All the publishers amassed large fortunes; their expenses reached 1,158,000 livres, while their profits totaled 2,162,000. D’Alembert’s “Discours Préliminaire,” written in 1750 and consisting of 45 pages, was prefixed to the first volume and presented to the French Academy upon his reception on December 19, 1754. It systematically arranged various branches of knowledge and detailed their progress since their revival. His system, mainly derived from Bacon, categorizes them into three classes: memory, reason, and imagination. Arts and trades are classified under natural history, superstition and magic under theology, and orthography and heraldry under logic. The literary landscape is divided into three corresponding categories—érudits, philosophes, and beaux esprits. As with Ephraim Chambers’s Cyclopaedia, history and biography were mostly excluded, except in passing; for instance, Aristotle's life is mentioned in the article on Aristotelianism. Generally, the scientific category of an article is specified at the start, with references to other articles provided, and the authors’ names indicated by initials, which are listed in earlier volumes, although some names are fully credited. Articles by Diderot bear no mark, while those added by him as editor have an asterisk in front. Among the contributors were Voltaire, Euler, Marmontel, Montesquieu, D’Anville, D’Holbach, and Turgot, who led the emerging school of economists showcased in the pages of the Encyclopédie. Louis wrote the section on surgery, Daubenton covered natural history, Eidous focused on heraldry and art, Toussaint dealt with jurisprudence, and Condamine wrote pieces on South America.
No encyclopaedia perhaps has been of such political importance, or has occupied so conspicuous a place in the civil and literary history of its century. It sought not only to give information, but to guide opinion. It was, as Rosenkranz says (Diderot, i. 157), theistic and heretical. It was opposed to the church, then all-powerful in France, and it treated dogma historically. It was, as Desnoiresterres says (Voltaire, v. 164), a war machine; as it progressed, its attacks both on the church and the still more despotic government, as well as on Christianity itself, became bolder and more undisguised, and it was met by opposition and persecution unparalleled in the history of encyclopaedias. Its execution is very unequal, and its articles of very different value. It was not constructed on a regular plan, or subjected to sufficient supervision; articles were sent in by the 377 contributors, and not seen by the editors until they were in type. In each subject there are some excellent articles, but others are very inferior or altogether omitted, and references are often given to articles which do not exist. Thus marine is said to be more than three-fourths deficient; and in geography errors and omissions abound—even capitals and sovereign states are overlooked, while villages are given as towns, and towns are described which never existed. The style is too generally loose, digressive and inexact; dates are seldom given; and discursiveness, verbosity and dogmatism are frequent faults. Voltaire was constantly demanding truth, brevity and method, and said it was built half of marble and half of wood. D’Alembert compared it to a harlequin’s coat, in which there is some good stuff but too many rags. Diderot was dissatisfied with it as a whole; much of it was compiled in haste; and carelessly written articles and incompetent contributors were admitted for want of money to pay good writers. Zedler’s Universal Lexicon is on the whole much more useful for reference than its far more brilliant successor. The permanent value of encyclopaedias depends on the proportion of exact and precise facts they contain and on their systematic regularity.
No encyclopedia has been as politically significant or has held such a prominent place in the civil and literary history of its time. It aimed to not just provide information but to shape opinions. As Rosenkranz notes (Diderot, i. 157), it was both theistic and heretical. It was in opposition to the church, which held immense power in France, and addressed dogma from a historical perspective. Desnoiresterres describes it as a war machine (Voltaire, v. 164); as it developed, its criticisms of both the church and the more oppressive government, as well as of Christianity itself, grew bolder and more overt, facing unprecedented opposition and persecution in the history of encyclopedias. Its quality varied significantly, with articles of differing value. It wasn’t organized according to a clear plan or adequately supervised; contributions were sent in by authors without review by editors until typesetting. While some subjects have excellent articles, others are poorly done or completely absent, and references are often to non-existent articles. For instance, the section on marine topics is over three-fourths lacking; geography is riddled with mistakes and omissions—even capitals and sovereign states are missed, whilst villages are misclassified as towns, and towns that never existed are mentioned. The writing style is generally loose, wandering, and imprecise; dates are rarely provided, and it often suffers from excessive wordiness, verbosity, and dogmatism. Voltaire constantly called for truth, conciseness, and structure, famously saying it was built half of marble and half of wood. D’Alembert likened it to a harlequin's coat, containing some quality materials but too many rags. Diderot was critical of it overall; much of it was hastily compiled, and carelessly written articles and unqualified contributors were included due to a lack of funds to hire better writers. Zedler’s Universal Lexicon is ultimately much more useful as a reference than its much more illustrious successor. The lasting value of encyclopedias relies on the proportion of accurate and precise information they include and on their systematic organization.
The first edition of the Encyclopédie, in 17 vols. folio, 16,288 pages, was imitated by a counterfeit edition printed at Geneva as the volumes appeared in Paris. Eleven folio volumes of plates were published at Paris (1762 to 1772), containing 2888 plates and 923 pages of explanation, &c. A supplement was printed at Amsterdam and Paris (1776-1777), fol. 5 vols., 3874 pages, with 224 plates. History was introduced at the wish of the public, but only “the general features which mark epochs in the annals of the world.” The astronomy was by Delalande, mathematics by Condorcet, tables by Bernouilli, natural history by Adanson, anatomy and physiology by Haller. Daubenton, Condamine, Marmontel and other old contributors wrote many articles, and several were taken from foreign editions. A very full and elaborate index of the articles and subjects of the 33 volumes was printed at Amsterdam in 1780, fol. 2 vols. 1852 pages. It was made by Pierre Mouchon, who was born at Geneva on the 30th of July 1735, consecrated minister on the 18th of August 1758, pastor of the French church at Basel 1766, elected a pastor in Geneva on the 6th of March 1788, principal of the college there 22nd of April 1791, died on the 20th of August 1797. This Table analytique, which took him five years to make, was undertaken for the publishers Cramer and De Tournes, who gave him 800 louis for it. Though very exact and full, he designedly omits the attacks on Christianity. This index was rendered more useful and indispensable by the very diffuse and digressive style of the work, and by the vast number of its articles. A complete copy of the first edition of the Encyclopédie consists of 35 vols. fol., printed 1751-1780, containing 23,135 pages and 3132 plates. It was written by about 160 contributors. About 1761 Panckoucke and other publishers in Paris proposed a new and revised edition, and bought the plates for 250,000 livres. But, as Diderot indignantly refused to edit what he considered a fraud on the subscribers to the as yet unfinished work, they began simply to reprint the work, promising supplementary volumes. When three volumes were printed the whole was seized in 1770 by the government at the complaint of the clergy, and was lodged in the Bastille. The plan of a second French edition was laid aside then, to be revived twenty years later in a very different form. Foreign editions of the Encyclopédie are numerous, and it is difficult to enumerate them correctly. One, with notes by Ottavio Diodati, Dr Sebastiano Paoli and Carlo Giuliani, appeared at Lucca (1758-1771), fol. 17 vols. of text and 10 of plates. Though it was very much expurgated, all engaged in it were excommunicated by the pope in 1759. An attempt made at Siena to publish an Italian translation failed. An addition by the abbé Serafini and Dr Gonnella (Livourne, 1770), &c., fol. 33 vols., returned a profit of 60,000 piastres, and was protected by Leopold II., who secured the pope’s silence. Other editions are Genève, Cramer (1772-1776), a facsimile reprint. Genève, Pellet (1777-1779), 4to, 36 vols. of text and 3 of plates, with 6 vols. of Mouchon’s index (Lyon, 1780), 4to; Genève et Neufchâtel, Pellet (1778-1779), 4to, 36 vols. of text and 3 of plates; Lausanne (1778-1781), 36 vols. 4to, or 72 octavo, of text and 3 of plates (1779-1780); Lausanne et Bern, chez les Sociétés Typographiques (1780-1782), 36 vols. 8vo of text and 3 vols. 4to of plates (1782). These four editions have the supplement incorporated. Fortuné Barthelemy de Felice, an Italian monk, born at Rome on the 24th of August 1723, who had been professor at Rome and Naples, and had become a Protestant, printed a very incorrect though successful edition (Yverdun, 1770-1780) 4to, 42 vols. of text, 5 of supplement and 10 of plates. It professed to be a new work, standing in the same relationship to the Encyclopédie as that did to Chambers’s, which is far from being the case. Sir Joseph Ayloffe issued proposals, 14th December 1751, for an English translation of the Encyclopédie, to be finished by Christmas 1756, in 10 vols. 4to, with at least 600 plates. No. 1 appeared in January 1752, but met with little success. Several selections of articles and extracts have been published under the title of L’Esprit de l’Encyclopédie. The last was by Hennequin (Paris, 1822-1823), 8vo, 15 vols. An English selection is Select Essays from the Encyclopedy (London, 1773), 8vo. The articles of most of the principal contributors have been reprinted in the editions of their respective works. Voltaire wrote 8 vols. 8vo of a kind of fragmentary supplement, Questions sur l’Encyclopédie, frequently printed, and usually included in editions of his works, together with his contributions to the Encyclopédie and his Dictionnaire philosophique. Several special dictionaries have been formed from the Encyclopédie, as the Dictionnaire portatif des arts et métiers (Paris, 1766), 8vo, 2 vols. about 1300 pages, by Philippe Macquer, brother of the author of the Dict. de chimie. An enlarged edition by the abbé Jaubert (Paris, 1773), 5 vols. 8vo, 3017 pages, was much valued and often reprinted. The books attacking and defending the Encyclopédie are very many. No original work of the 18th century, says Lanfrey, has been more depreciated, ridiculed and calumniated. It has been called chaos, nothingness, the Tower of Babel, a work of disorder and destruction, the gospel of Satan and even the ruins of Palmyra.
The first edition of the Encyclopédie, in 17 volumes and 16,288 pages, was imitated by a fake edition printed in Geneva as the volumes were released in Paris. Eleven folio volumes of illustrations were published in Paris (1762 to 1772), containing 2,888 plates and 923 pages of explanations, etc. A supplement was printed in Amsterdam and Paris (1776-1777), fol. 5 volumes, 3,874 pages, with 224 plates. History was added at the public's request, but only “the general features that mark epochs in the annals of the world.” The astronomy content was by Delalande, mathematics by Condorcet, tables by Bernouilli, and natural history by Adanson, while anatomy and physiology were covered by Haller. Daubenton, Condamine, Marmontel, and other previous contributors wrote many articles, and several were sourced from foreign editions. A detailed and extensive index of the articles and topics in the 33 volumes was printed in Amsterdam in 1780, fol. 2 volumes, 1,852 pages. It was created by Pierre Mouchon, who was born in Geneva on July 30, 1735, ordained as a minister on August 18, 1758, became the pastor of the French church in Basel in 1766, was elected pastor in Geneva on March 6, 1788, and became the principal of the college there on April 22, 1791, passing away on August 20, 1797. This Table analytique, which took him five years to complete, was commissioned by the publishers Cramer and De Tournes, who paid him 800 livres for it. Although it was very accurate and comprehensive, he intentionally omitted the criticisms of Christianity. This index was made more essential due to the very diffuse and digressive writing style of the work and the vast number of articles. A complete copy of the first edition of the Encyclopédie consists of 35 volumes, printed from 1751 to 1780, containing 23,135 pages and 3,132 plates. It was written by about 160 contributors. Around 1761, Panckoucke and other publishers in Paris proposed a new and revised edition and purchased the plates for 250,000 livres. However, since Diderot indignantly refused to edit what he saw as a deception against the subscribers to the incomplete work, they instead began reprinting the original work, promising supplementary volumes. When three volumes had been printed, the entire collection was seized in 1770 by the government at the clergy's complaint and placed in the Bastille. The plan for a second French edition was put on hold, only to be revived twenty years later in a very different form. There are many foreign editions of the Encyclopédie, making it difficult to list them accurately. One edition, with notes by Ottavio Diodati, Dr. Sebastiano Paoli, and Carlo Giuliani, was published in Lucca (1758-1771), fol. 17 volumes of text and 10 of illustrations. Although it was heavily edited, everyone involved was excommunicated by the pope in 1759. An attempt to publish an Italian translation in Siena failed. An addition by the abbé Serafini and Dr. Gonnella (Livorno, 1770), etc., fol. 33 volumes, returned a profit of 60,000 piastres and was protected by Leopold II., who ensured the pope's silence. Other editions include Genève, Cramer (1772-1776), a facsimile reprint. Genève, Pellet (1777-1779), 4to, 36 volumes of text and 3 of illustrations, along with 6 volumes of Mouchon’s index (Lyon, 1780), 4to; Genève et Neufchâtel, Pellet (1778-1779), 4to, 36 volumes of text and 3 of illustrations; Lausanne (1778-1781), 36 volumes 4to, or 72 octavo, of text and 3 of illustrations (1779-1780); Lausanne et Bern, chez les Sociétés Typographiques (1780-1782), 36 volumes 8vo of text and 3 volumes 4to of illustrations (1782). These four editions include the supplement. Fortuné Barthelemy de Felice, an Italian monk born in Rome on August 24, 1723, who had been a professor in Rome and Naples before converting to Protestantism, printed a highly inaccurate but popular edition (Yverdun, 1770-1780) 4to, 42 volumes of text, 5 of the supplement, and 10 of illustrations. It claimed to be a new work, related to the Encyclopédie in the same way that it did to Chambers’s, which is far from accurate. Sir Joseph Ayloffe announced proposals on December 14, 1751, for an English translation of the Encyclopédie, intended to be completed by Christmas 1756, in 10 volumes 4to, with at least 600 illustrations. Volume 1 was released in January 1752 but didn’t achieve much success. Several selections of articles and extracts have been published under the title L’Esprit de l’Encyclopédie. The latest was by Hennequin (Paris, 1822-1823), 8vo, 15 volumes. An English selection is Select Essays from the Encyclopédie (London, 1773), 8vo. Articles from most of the principal contributors have been reprinted in editions of their respective works. Voltaire wrote 8 volumes 8vo of a sort of fragmentary supplement titled Questions sur l’Encyclopédie, which has been frequently printed and is usually included in editions of his works, along with his contributions to the Encyclopédie and his Dictionnaire philosophique. Several specialized dictionaries have been created from the Encyclopédie, such as the Dictionnaire portatif des arts et métiers (Paris, 1766), 8vo, 2 volumes with about 1,300 pages, by Philippe Macquer, brother of the author of the Dict. de chimie. An expanded edition by the abbé Jaubert (Paris, 1773), 5 volumes 8vo, 3,017 pages, was highly regarded and often reprinted. There are many books that criticize and defend the Encyclopédie. No original work from the 18th century, according to Lanfrey, has been more belittled, mocked, and slandered. It has been described as chaos, nothingness, the Tower of Babel, a work of disorder and destruction, the gospel of Satan, and even the ruins of Palmyra.
The Encyclopaedia Britannica, “by a society of gentlemen in Scotland, printed in Edinburgh for A. Bell and C. Macfarquhar, and sold by Colin Macfarquhar at his printing office in Nicolson Street,” was completed in 1771 in 3 volumes 4to, containing 2670 pages, and 160 copperplates engraved by Andrew Bell. It was published in numbers, of which the two first were issued in December 1768, “price 6d. each, or 8d on a finer paper,” and was to be completed in 100 weekly numbers. It was compiled, as the title-page says, on a new plan. The different sciences and arts were “digested into distinct treatises or systems,” of which there are 45 with cross headings, that is, titles printed across the page, and about 30 other articles more than three pages long. The longest are “Anatomy,” 166 pages, and “Surgery,” 238 pages. “The various technical terms, &c., are explained as they occur in the order of the alphabet.” “Instead of dismembering the sciences, by attempting to treat them intelligibly under a multitude of technical terms, they have digested the principles of every science in the form of systems or distinct treatises, and explained the terms as they occur in the order of the alphabet, with references to the sciences to which they belong.” This plan, as the compilers say, differs from that of all the previous dictionaries of arts and sciences. Its merit and novelty consist in the combination of De Coetlogon’s plan with that in common use,—on the one hand keeping important subjects together, and on the other facilitating reference by numerous separate articles. It is doubtful to whom the credit of this plan is due. The editor, William Smellie, a printer (born in 1740, died on the 24th of June 1795), afterwards secretary and superintendent of natural history to the Society of Scottish Antiquaries, is said by his biographer to have devised the plan and written or compiled all the chief articles; and he prints, but without date, part of a letter written and signed by Andrew Bell by which he was engaged in the work:—“Sir, As we are engaged in publishing a dictionary of the arts and sciences, and as you have informed us that there are fifteen capital sciences which you will undertake for and write up the subdivisions and detached parts of these conform to your plan, and likewise to prepare the whole work for the press, &c., &c., we hereby agree to allow you £200 for your trouble, &c.” Prof. Macvey Napier says that Smellie “was more likely to have suggested that great improvement than any of his known coadjutors.” Archibald Constable, who was interested in the work from 1788, and was afterwards intimately acquainted with Bell, says Colin Macfarquhar was the actual projector of the Encyclopaedia, and the editor of the two first editions, while Smellie was merely “a contributor for hire” (Memoirs, ii. 311). Dr Gleig, in his preface to the third edition, says: “The idea had been conceived by him (Colin Macfarquhar) and his friend Mr Andrew Bell, engraver. By whom these gentlemen were assisted in digesting the plan which attracted to that work so much public attention, or whether they had any assistance, are questions in which our readers cannot be interested.” Macfarquhar, according to Constable, was a person of excellent taste and very general knowledge, though at starting he had little or no capital, and was obliged to associate Bell, then the principal engraver in Edinburgh, as a partner in his undertaking.
The Encyclopaedia Britannica, created by a group of gentlemen in Scotland, was printed in Edinburgh for A. Bell and C. Macfarquhar, and sold by Colin Macfarquhar at his printing office on Nicolson Street. It was completed in 1771 in three volumes, 4to, containing 2,670 pages and 160 copper plates engraved by Andrew Bell. It was published in installments, with the first two released in December 1768, priced at 6d each or 8d on better paper, and was designed to be finished in 100 weekly installments. The title page states it was prepared using a new approach. Different sciences and arts were organized into distinct treatises or systems, with 45 cross-headings (titles printed across the page) and about 30 other articles longer than three pages. The longest entries are “Anatomy,” spanning 166 pages, and “Surgery,” spanning 238 pages. “The various technical terms, etc., are explained in alphabetical order.” “Instead of breaking down the sciences by trying to treat them clearly under multiple technical terms, they have organized the principles of each science in systems or distinct treatises, explaining the terms as they appear in alphabetical order, with references to the relevant sciences.” According to the compilers, this approach is different from that of all previous dictionaries of arts and sciences. Its innovation lies in merging De Coetlogon’s plan with the commonly used method—keeping significant subjects together while making it easier to refer to many separate articles. It's unclear who deserves credit for this plan. The editor, William Smellie, a printer (born in 1740, died on June 24, 1795), who later became secretary and head of natural history at the Society of Scottish Antiquaries, is credited by his biographer with devising the plan and writing or compiling the main articles. He publishes, but without a date, part of a letter written and signed by Andrew Bell, confirming his engagement in the project: “Sir, As we are publishing a dictionary of the arts and sciences, and you have indicated that you will take on fifteen key sciences and write the subdivisions and details according to your plan, as well as prepare the entire work for publication, we agree to pay you £200 for your efforts.” Professor Macvey Napier suggests that Smellie was more likely to have proposed that significant improvement than any of his known collaborators. Archibald Constable, who got involved in the work in 1788 and later became closely associated with Bell, claims Colin Macfarquhar was the true originator of the Encyclopaedia, and the editor of its first two editions, while Smellie was simply “a paid contributor” (Memoirs, ii. 311). Dr. Gleig, in his preface to the third edition, states: “The idea was conceived by him (Colin Macfarquhar) and his friend Mr. Andrew Bell, engraver. The questions of whether these gentlemen received assistance in organizing the plan that attracted so much public attention or if they had any help at all are of little interest to our readers.” Macfarquhar, according to Constable, had excellent taste and broad knowledge, though he started with little to no capital and had to partner with Bell, then the main engraver in Edinburgh, for his project.
The second edition was begun in 1776, and was published in numbers, of which the first was issued on the 21st of June 1777, and the last, No. 181, on the 18th of September 1784, forming 10 vols. 4to, dated 1778 to 1783, and containing 8595 pages and 340 plates. The pagination is continuous, ending 378 with page 9200, but 295 pages are inserted in various places, and page 7099 is followed by 8000. The number and length of the articles were much increased, 72 have cross headings, and more than 150 others may be classed as long articles. At the end is an appendix (“Abatement” to “Wood”) of 200 pages, containing, under the heading Botanical Table, a list of the 931 genera included in the 58 natural orders of Linnaeus, and followed by a list of 526 books, said to have been the principal authorities used. All the maps are placed together under the article “Geography” (195 pages). Most of the long articles have numbered marginal titles; “Scotland,” 84 pages, has 837. “Medicine,” 309 pages, and “Pharmacy” have each an index. The plan of the work was enlarged by the addition of history and biography, which encyclopaedias in general had long omitted. “From the time of the second edition of this work, every cyclopaedia of note, in England and elsewhere, has been a cyclopaedia, not solely of arts and sciences, but of the whole wide circle of general learning and miscellaneous information” (Quarterly Review, cxiii. 362). Smellie was applied to by Bell to edit the second edition, and to take a share of one-third in the work; but he refused, because the other persons concerned in it, at the suggestion of “a very distinguished nobleman of very high rank” (said by Professor Napier to have been the duke of Buccleuch), insisted upon the introduction of a system of general biography which he considered inconsistent with the character of a dictionary of arts and sciences. James Tytler, M.A., seems to have been selected as the next most eligible compiler. His father, a man of extensive knowledge, was 53 years minister of Fearn in Forfarshire, and died in 1785. Tytler (outlawed by the High Court of Justiciary, 7th of January 1793, buried at Salem in Massachusetts on the 11th of January 1804, aged fifty-eight) “wrote,” says Watt, “many of the scientific treatises and histories, and almost all the minor articles” (Bibliotheca Brit.).
The second edition started in 1776 and was published in installments, with the first one released on June 21, 1777, and the last one, No. 181, on September 18, 1784, resulting in 10 volumes in quarto size, dated from 1778 to 1783, containing 8,595 pages and 340 plates. The page numbers are continuous, concluding at 378 with page 9,200, but there are 295 pages inserted at various intervals, and page 7,099 is followed by 8,000. The number and length of articles increased significantly, with 72 having cross headings, and more than 150 classified as long articles. At the end is an appendix ("Abatement" to "Wood") that consists of 200 pages, including a Botanical Table list of the 931 genera in the 58 natural orders outlined by Linnaeus, followed by a list of 526 books considered the main sources used. All maps are gathered under the article “Geography” (195 pages). Most long articles have numbered marginal titles; “Scotland,” for instance, spans 84 pages and has 837 titles. “Medicine” contains 309 pages, and both “Medicine” and “Pharmacy” include an index. The work's scope was expanded to include history and biography, which encyclopedias had generally overlooked for a long time. “Since the second edition of this work, every notable encyclopedia in England and beyond has become one that covers not just arts and sciences but the entire realm of general knowledge and miscellaneous information” (Quarterly Review, cxiii. 362). Bell approached Smellie to edit the second edition and take a one-third share in the project; however, he declined because the other parties involved, following the suggestion of “a very distinguished nobleman of very high rank” (identified by Professor Napier as the Duke of Buccleuch), insisted on adding a general biography system, which he felt was inconsistent with the purpose of a dictionary of arts and sciences. James Tytler, M.A., appears to have been chosen as the next best compiler. His father, a man of broad knowledge, served as the minister of Fearn in Forfarshire for 53 years and passed away in 1785. Tytler (who was outlawed by the High Court of Justiciary on January 7, 1793, and was buried in Salem, Massachusetts, on January 11, 1804, at the age of fifty-eight) “wrote,” according to Watt, “many of the scientific treatises and histories, and almost all the minor articles” (Bibliotheca Brit.).
After about a year’s preparation, the third edition was announced in 1787; the first number was published early in 1788, and the first volume in October 1788. There were to be 300 weekly numbers, price 1s. each, forming 30 parts at 10s. 6d. each, and 15 volumes, with 360 plates. It was completed in 1797 in 18 vols. 4to, containing 14,579 pages and 542 plates. Among the multifarious articles represented in the frontispiece, which was required by the traditional fashion of the period, is a balloon. The maps are, as in subsequent editions, distributed among the articles relating to the respective countries. It was edited by Colin Macfarquhar as far as the article “Mysteries” (by Dr Doig, vol. xii.), when he died, on the 2nd of April 1793, in his forty-eighth year, “worn out,” says Constable, “by fatigue and anxiety of mind.” His children’s trustees and Andrew Bell requested George Gleig of Stirling (consecrated on the 30th of October 1808 assistant and successor to the bishop of Brechin), who had written about twelve articles, to edit the rest of the work; “and for the time, and the limited sum allowed him for the reward of contributors, his part in the work was considered very well done” (Constable, ii. 312). Professor Robison was induced by Gleig to become a contributor. He first revised the article “Optics,” and then wrote a series of articles on natural philosophy, which attracted great attention and were long highly esteemed by scientific men. The sub-editors were James Walker (Primus Scotiae Episcopus 27th of May 1837, died on the 5th of March 1841, aged seventy) until 1795, then James Thomson, succeeded in November 1796 by his brother Thomas, afterwards professor of chemistry at Glasgow, who remained connected with the Encyclopaedia until 1800. According to Kerr (Smellie’s Life, i. 364-365), 10,000 copies were printed, and the profit to the proprietors was £42,000, besides the payments for their respective work in the conduct of the publication as tradesmen,—Bell as engraver of all the plates, and Macfarquhar as sole printer. According to Constable (Memoirs, ii. 312), the impression was begun at 5000 copies, and concluded with a sale of 13,000. James Hunter, “an active bookseller of no character,” who had a shop in Middle Row, Holborn, sold the book to the trade, and on his failure Thomson Bonar, a wine merchant, who had married Bell’s daughter, became the seller of the book. He quarrelled with his father-in-law, who would not see him for ten years before his death in 1809. When the edition was completed, the copyright and remaining books were sold in order to wind up the concern, and “the whole was purchased by Bell, who gave £13 a copy, sold all the complete copies to the trade, printed up the odd volumes, and thus kept the work in the market for several years” (Constable, ii. 312)
After about a year of preparation, the third edition was announced in 1787; the first issue came out early in 1788, and the first volume was released in October 1788. There were intended to be 300 weekly issues, priced at 1 shilling each, forming 30 parts at 10 shillings and 6 pence each, and 15 volumes, containing 360 plates. It was completed in 1797 in 18 volumes, 4to, with 14,579 pages and 542 plates. Among the various articles depicted in the frontispiece, which was required by the traditional style of the time, is a balloon. The maps, as in later editions, were spread throughout the articles related to the respective countries. It was edited by Colin Macfarquhar until the article “Mysteries” (by Dr. Doig, vol. xii.), when he passed away on April 2nd, 1793, at the age of 48, “worn out,” as Constable says, “by fatigue and anxiety of mind.” His children’s trustees and Andrew Bell asked George Gleig from Stirling (consecrated on October 30, 1808, as assistant and successor to the bishop of Brechin), who had written about twelve articles, to edit the remainder of the work; “and for the time, and the limited sum allowed him for the payment of contributors, his part in the work was considered very well done” (Constable, ii. 312). Professor Robison was persuaded by Gleig to become a contributor. He first revised the article “Optics,” then wrote a series of articles on natural philosophy that gained considerable attention and were long highly regarded by scientists. The sub-editors included James Walker (Primus Scotiae Episcopus on May 27, 1837, who died on March 5, 1841, at the age of seventy) until 1795, then James Thomson, who was succeeded in November 1796 by his brother Thomas, later a professor of chemistry at Glasgow, who stayed involved with the Encyclopaedia until 1800. According to Kerr (Smellie’s Life, i. 364-365), 10,000 copies were printed, and the profit for the owners was £42,000, in addition to payments for their respective roles in managing the publication as merchants—Bell as the engraver for all the plates, and Macfarquhar as the sole printer. According to Constable (Memoirs, ii. 312), the print run began at 5,000 copies and ended with sales of 13,000. James Hunter, “an active bookseller of no reputation,” who had a shop in Middle Row, Holborn, sold the book to the trade, and when he failed, Thomson Bonar, a wine merchant who married Bell’s daughter, took over selling the book. He fell out with his father-in-law, who wouldn’t speak to him for ten years before his death in 1809. When the edition was completed, the copyright and remaining books were sold to settle the business, and “the whole was purchased by Bell, who paid £13 a copy, sold all the complete copies to the trade, printed the odd volumes, and thus kept the work on the market for several years” (Constable, ii. 312).
The supplement of the third edition, printed for Thomson Bonar, and edited by Gleig, was published in 1801 in 2 vols. 4to, containing 1624 pages and 50 copperplates engraved by D. Lizars. In the dedication to the king, dated Stirling, 10th December 1800, Dr Gleig says: “The French Encyclopédie had been accused, and justly accused, of having disseminated far and wide the seeds of anarchy and atheism. If the Encyclopaedia Britannica shall in any degree counteract the tendency of that pestiferous work, even these two volumes will not be wholly unworthy of your Majesty’s attention.” Professor Robison added 19 articles to the series he had begun when the third edition was so far advanced. Professor Playfair assisted in “Mathematics.” Dr Thomas Thomson wrote “Chemistry,” “Mineralogy” and other articles, in which the use of symbols was for the first time introduced into chemistry; and these articles formed the first outline of his System of Chemistry, published at Edinburgh in 1802, 8vo, 4 vols.; the sixth edition, 1821.
The supplement to the third edition, printed for Thomson Bonar and edited by Gleig, was published in 1801 in two volumes (4to), containing 1624 pages and 50 copperplates engraved by D. Lizars. In the dedication to the king, dated Stirling, December 10, 1800, Dr. Gleig states: “The French Encyclopédie has been justly accused of spreading the seeds of anarchy and atheism. If the Encyclopaedia Britannica can in any way counteract the influence of that harmful work, then these two volumes will not be entirely unworthy of your Majesty’s attention.” Professor Robison contributed 19 articles to the series that he started when the third edition was already well underway. Professor Playfair helped with “Mathematics.” Dr. Thomas Thomson wrote articles on “Chemistry,” “Mineralogy,” and others, introducing the use of symbols for the first time in chemistry; these articles laid the groundwork for his System of Chemistry, published in Edinburgh in 1802, 8vo, 4 vols.; the sixth edition was released in 1821.
The fourth edition, printed for Andrew Bell, was begun in 1800 or 1801, and finished in 1810 in 20 vols. 4to, containing 16,033 pages, with 581 plates engraved by Bell. The dedication to the king, signed Andrew Bell, is dated Lauristoun, Edinburgh, 1809. The preface is that of the third edition with the necessary alterations and additions in the latter part. No articles were reprinted from the supplement, as Bell had not the copyright. Professor Wallace’s articles on mathematics were much valued, and raised the scientific character of the work. Dr Thomas Thomson declined the editorship, and recommended Dr James Millar, afterwards editor of the Encyclopaedia Edinensis (died on the 13th of July 1827). He was fond of natural history and a good chemist, but, according to Constable, slow and dilatory and not well qualified. Andrew Bell died on the 10th of June 1809, aged eighty-three, “leaving,” says Constable, “two sets of trustees, one literary to make the money, the other legal to lay it out after it was made.” The edition began with 1250 copies and concluded at 4000, of which two-thirds passed through the hands of Constable’s firm. Early in 1804 Andrew Bell had offered Constable and his partner Hunter the copyright of the work, printing materials, &c., and all that was then printed of the fourth edition, for £20,000. This offer was in agitation in March 1804, when the two partners were in London. On the 5th of May 1804, after Lord Jeffrey’s arrival in Edinburgh, as he relates to Francis Horner, they entrusted him with a design, on which he found that most of his friends had embarked with great eagerness, “for publishing an entire new encyclopaedia upon an improved plan. Stewart, I understand, is to lend his name, and to write the preliminary discourse, besides other articles. Playfair is to superintend the mathematical department, and Robison the natural philosophy. Thomas Thomson is extremely zealous in the cause. W. Scott has embraced it with great affection.... The authors are to be paid at least as well as reviewers, and are to retain the copyright of their articles for separate publication if they think proper” (Cockburn, Life of Lord Jeffrey, 1852, ii. 90). It was then, perhaps, that Constable gave £100 to Bonar for the copyright of the supplement.
The fourth edition, published for Andrew Bell, started in 1800 or 1801 and was completed in 1810 in 20 volumes (4to), totaling 16,033 pages and featuring 581 plates engraved by Bell. The dedication to the king, signed by Andrew Bell, is dated Lauristoun, Edinburgh, 1809. The preface is from the third edition with necessary updates and additions in the later sections. No articles were reprinted from the supplement since Bell did not hold the copyright. Professor Wallace's articles on mathematics were highly regarded and enhanced the scientific quality of the work. Dr. Thomas Thomson declined the editorship and suggested Dr. James Millar, who later became the editor of the Encyclopaedia Edinensis (passed away on July 13, 1827). He had a passion for natural history and was a competent chemist, but, according to Constable, was slow and somewhat unqualified. Andrew Bell passed away on June 10, 1809, at the age of eighty-three, “leaving,” as Constable notes, “two sets of trustees, one literary to generate the money, the other legal to manage it afterward.” The edition started with 1,250 copies and concluded at 4,000, with two-thirds being handled by Constable's firm. Early in 1804, Andrew Bell offered Constable and his partner Hunter the copyright of the work, printing materials, etc., along with all that had been printed of the fourth edition for £20,000. This proposal was under consideration in March 1804 when the partners were in London. On May 5, 1804, after Lord Jeffrey arrived in Edinburgh, as he mentioned to Francis Horner, they tasked him with a plan, which he found most of his colleagues were enthusiastically involved in, “to publish a completely new encyclopedia with an improved approach. From what I hear, Stewart is going to lend his name and write the introductory discourse, plus other articles. Playfair will oversee the mathematics section, and Robison will handle natural philosophy. Thomas Thomson is extremely passionate about the project. W. Scott has embraced it wholeheartedly.... The authors will be compensated at least as well as the reviewers and will keep the copyright to their articles for separate publication if they choose” (Cockburn, Life of Lord Jeffrey, 1852, ii. 90). It was likely then that Constable paid £100 to Bonar for the copyright of the supplement.
The fifth edition was begun immediately after the fourth as a mere reprint. “The management of the edition, or rather mismanagement, went on under the lawyer trustees for several years, and at last the whole property was again brought to the market by public sale. There were about 1800 copies printed of the five first volumes, which formed one lot, the copyright formed another lot, and so on. The whole was purchased by myself and in my name for between £13,000 and £14,000, and it was said by the wise 379 booksellers of Edinburgh and others that I had completely ruined myself and all connected with me by a purchase to such an enormous amount; this was early in 1812” (Constable, ii. 314). Bonar, who lived next door to the printing office, thought he could conduct the book, and had resolved on the purchase. Having a good deal of money, he seemed to Constable a formidable rival, whose alliance was to be secured. After “sundry interviews” it was agreed that Constable should buy the copyright in his own name, and that Bonar should have one-third, and also one-third of the copyright of the supplement, for which he gave £200. Dr James Millar corrected and revised the last 15 volumes. The preface is dated the 1st of December 1814. The printing was superintended by Bonar, who died on the 26th of July 1814. His trustees were repaid his advances on the work, about £6000, and the copyright was valued at £11,000, of which they received one-third, Constable adding £500, as the book had been so extremely successful. It was published in 20 vols., 16,017 pages, 582 plates, price £36, and dated 1817.
The fifth edition started right after the fourth as just a reprint. “The management of the edition, or rather the mismanagement, continued under the lawyer trustees for several years, and eventually the whole property was put back on the market through a public sale. About 1,800 copies of the first five volumes were printed and sold as one lot, with the copyright as another lot, and so on. I purchased everything in my name for between £13,000 and £14,000, and the savvy booksellers of Edinburgh and others claimed I had completely bankrupted myself and everyone involved by making such a massive purchase; this was early in 1812” (Constable, ii. 314). Bonar, who lived next to the printing office, thought he could manage the book and intended to make a purchase. With quite a bit of money, he seemed like a serious competitor to Constable, whose partnership he wanted to secure. After “several meetings,” they agreed that Constable would buy the copyright in his own name, while Bonar would get one-third and also one-third of the copyright for the supplement, for which he paid £200. Dr. James Millar corrected and revised the last 15 volumes. The preface is dated December 1, 1814. The printing was overseen by Bonar, who passed away on July 26, 1814. His trustees were reimbursed for his contributions to the work, about £6,000, and the copyright was valued at £11,000, of which they received one-third, with Constable adding £500 since the book had been extremely successful. It was published in 20 volumes, totaling 16,017 pages, featuring 582 plates, priced at £36, and dated 1817.
Soon after the purchase of the copyright, Constable began to prepare for the publication of a supplement, to be of four or, at the very utmost, five volumes. “The first article arranged for was one on ‘Chemistry’ by Sir Humphry Davy, but he went abroad [in October 1813] and I released him from his engagement, and employed Mr Brande; the second article was Mr Stewart’s Dissertation, for which I agreed to pay him £1000, leaving the extent of it to himself, but with this understanding, that it was not to be under ten sheets, and might extend to twenty” (Constable, ii. 318). Dugald Stewart, in a letter to Constable, the 15th of November 1812, though he declines to engage to execute any of his own suggestions, recommends that four discourses should “stand in front,” forming “a general map of the various departments of human knowledge,” similar to “the excellent discourse prefixed by D’Alembert to the French Encyclopédie,” together with historical sketches of the progress since Bacon’s time of modern discoveries in metaphysical, moral and political philosophy, in mathematics and physics, in chemistry, and in zoology, botany and mineralogy. He would only promise to undertake the general map and the first historical sketch, if his health and other engagements permitted, after the second volume of his Philosophy of the Human Mind (published in 1813) had gone to press. For the second he recommended Playfair, for chemistry Sir Humphry Davy. He received £1000 for the first part of his dissertation (166 pages), and £700 for the second (257 pages), the right of publication being limited to the Supplement and Encyclopaedia. Constable next contracted with Professor Playfair for a dissertation “to be equal in length or not to Mr Stewart’s, for £250; but a short time afterwards I felt that to pay one eminent individual £1000 because he would not take less would be quite unfair, and I wrote to the worthy Professor that I had fixed his payment at £500.” Constable gave him £500 for the first part (127 pages), and would have given as much for the second (90 pages) if it had been as long. His next object was to find out the greatest defects in the book, and he gave Professor Leslie £200 and Graham Dalyell £100 for looking over it. He then wrote out a prospectus and submitted it in print to Stewart, “but the cautious philosopher referred” him to Playfair, who “returned it next day very greatly improved.” For this Constable sent him six dozen of very fine old sherry, only feeling regret that he had nothing better to offer. He at first intended to have two editors, “one for the strictly literary and the other for the scientific department.” He applied to Dr Thomas Brown, who “preferred writing trash of poetry to useful and lucrative employment.” At last he fixed on Mr Macvey Napier (born 1777), whom he had known from 1798, and who “had been a hard student, and at college laid a good foundation for his future career, though more perhaps in general information than in what would be, strictly speaking, called scholarship; this, however, does not fit him the less for his present task.” Constable, in a letter dated the 11th of June 1813, offered him £300 before the first part went to press, £150 on the completion at press of each of the eight half volumes, £500 if the work was reprinted or extended beyond 7000 copies and £200 for incidental expenses. “In this way the composition of the four volumes, including the introductory dissertations, will amount to considerably more than £9000.” In a postscript the certain payment is characteristically increased to £1575, the contingent to £735, and the allowance for incidental expenses to £300 (Constable, ii. 326). Napier went to London, and obtained the co-operation of many literary men. The supplement was published in half-volume parts from December 1816 to April 1824. It formed six volumes 4to, containing 4933 pages, 125 plates, 9 maps, three dissertations and 669 articles, of which a list is given at the end. The first dissertation, on the “progress of metaphysical, ethical and political philosophy,” was by Stewart, who completed his plan only in respect to metaphysics. He had thought it would be easy to adapt the intellectual map or general survey of human knowledge, sketched by Bacon and improved by D’Alembert, to the advanced state of the sciences, while its unrivalled authority would have softened criticism. But on closer examination he found the logical views on which this systematic arrangement was based essentially erroneous; and, doubting whether the time had come for a successful repetition of this bold experiment, he forebore to substitute a new scheme of his own. Sir James Mackintosh characterized this discourse as “the most splendid of Mr. Stewart’s works, a composition which no other living writer of English prose has equalled” (Edinburgh Review, xxvii. 191, September 1816). The second dissertation, “On the progress of mathematics and physics,” was by Playfair, who died 19th July 1819, when he had only finished the period of Newton and Leibnitz. The third, by Professor Brande, “On the progress of chemistry from the early middle ages to 1800,” was the only one completed. These historical dissertations were admirable and delightful compositions, and important and interesting additions to the Encyclopaedia; but it is difficult to see why they should form a separate department distinct from the general alphabet. The preface, dated March 1824, begins with an account of the more important previous encyclopaedias, relates the history of this to the sixth edition, describes the preparation for the supplement and gives an “outline of the contents,” and mentions under each great division of knowledge the principal articles and their authors’ names, often with remarks on the characters of both. Among the distinguished contributors were Leslie, Playfair, Ivory, Sir John Barrow, Tredgold, Jeffrey, John Bird Sumner, Blanco White, Hamilton Smith and Hazlitt. Sir Walter Scott, to gratify his generous friend Constable, laid aside Waverley, which he was completing for publication, and in April and May 1814 wrote “Chivalry.” He also wrote “Drama” in November 1818, and “Romance” in the summer of 1823. As it seemed to the editor that encyclopaedias had previously attended little to political philosophy, he wrote “Balance of Power,” and procured from James Mill “Banks for Savings,” “Education,” “Law of Nations,” “Liberty of the Press,” and other articles, which, reprinted cheaply, had a wide circulation. M’Culloch wrote “Corn Laws,” “Interest,” “Money,” “Political Economy,” &c. Mr Ricardo wrote “Commerce” and “Funding System,” and Professor Malthus, in his article “Population,” gave a comprehensive summary of the facts and reasonings on which his theory rested. In the article “Egypt” Dr Thomas Young “first gave to the public an extended view of the results of his successful interpretation of the hieroglyphic characters on the stone of Rosetta,” with a vocabulary of 221 words in English, Coptic, Hieroglyphic and Enchorial, engraved on four plates. There were about 160 biographies, chiefly of persons who had died within the preceding 30 years. Constable “wished short biographical notices of the first founders of this great work, but they were, in the opinion of my editor, too insignificant to entitle them to the rank which such separate notice, it was supposed, would have given them as literary men, although his own consequence in the world had its origin in their exertions” (Memoirs, ii. 326). It is to be regretted that this wish was not carried out, as was done in the latter volumes of Zedler. Arago wrote “Double Refraction” and “Polarization of Light,” a note to which mentions his name as author. Playfair wrote “Aepinus,” and “Physical Astronomy.” Biot wrote “Electricity” and “Pendulum.” He “gave his assistance with alacrity,” though his articles had to be translated. Signatures, on the plan of the Encyclopédie, were annexed to each article, the list forming a triple alphabet, A to XXX, with the full names of the 72 contributors arranged apparently in the order of their first occurrence. At the end of vol. vi. are Addenda and Corrigenda, including “Interpolation,” by Leslie, and “Polarization of Light,” by Arago.
Soon after acquiring the copyright, Constable began preparing to publish a supplement, consisting of four or, at most, five volumes. “The first article arranged was about ‘Chemistry’ by Sir Humphry Davy, but he went abroad [in October 1813], so I released him from his commitment and hired Mr. Brande; the second article was Mr. Stewart’s Dissertation, for which I agreed to pay him £1000, leaving the length to his discretion, with the understanding that it would be at least ten sheets long and could go up to twenty” (Constable, ii. 318). Dugald Stewart, in a letter to Constable dated November 15, 1812, though he declined to commit to any of his own suggestions, recommended that four discourses should “stand at the forefront,” creating “a general map of the various fields of human knowledge,” similar to “the excellent discourse prefixed by D’Alembert to the French Encyclopédie,” along with historical sketches of the advancements in modern discoveries since Bacon’s time in metaphysical, moral and political philosophy, mathematics and physics, chemistry, zoology, botany, and mineralogy. He promised only to take on the general map and the first historical sketch, contingent on his health and other commitments, after the second volume of his Philosophy of the Human Mind (published in 1813) had gone to press. For the second, he recommended Playfair, and for chemistry, Sir Humphry Davy. He received £1000 for the first part of his dissertation (166 pages), and £700 for the second (257 pages), with publication rights limited to the Supplement and Encyclopaedia. Constable then contracted with Professor Playfair for a dissertation “to be equal in length to Mr. Stewart’s, for £250; but shortly after I felt it was unfair to pay one prominent individual £1000 simply because he wouldn’t take less, so I informed the esteemed Professor that I had set his payment at £500.” Constable paid him £500 for the first part (127 pages) and would have paid the same for the second (90 pages) if it had been that long. His next goal was to identify the biggest flaws in the book, for which he paid Professor Leslie £200 and Graham Dalyell £100 to review it. He then drafted a prospectus and submitted it in print to Stewart, “but the cautious philosopher referred” him to Playfair, who “returned it the next day significantly improved.” To thank him, Constable sent him six dozen very fine old sherry, only regretting that he had nothing better to offer. Initially, he planned to have two editors, “one for the strictly literary side and the other for the scientific department.” He reached out to Dr. Thomas Brown, who “preferred writing trivial poetry to useful and profitable work.” Ultimately, he chose Mr. Macvey Napier (born 1777), whom he had known since 1798 and who “had been a diligent student and laid a solid foundation for his future career at college, although perhaps more in general knowledge than in what would strictly be called scholarship; however, that does not disqualify him for his current task.” In a letter dated June 11, 1813, Constable offered him £300 before the first part went to press, £150 upon the completion of each of the eight half volumes, £500 if the work was reprinted or extended beyond 7000 copies, and £200 for incidental expenses. “This way, the composition of the four volumes, including the introductory dissertations, will total considerably more than £9000.” In a postscript, the guaranteed payment was characteristically increased to £1575, the contingent to £735, and the allowance for incidental expenses to £300 (Constable, ii. 326). Napier went to London and secured the collaboration of many literary figures. The supplement was published in half-volume parts from December 1816 to April 1824. It resulted in six volumes 4to, containing 4933 pages, 125 plates, 9 maps, three dissertations, and 669 articles, a list of which is provided at the end. The first dissertation, on the “progress of metaphysical, ethical and political philosophy,” was by Stewart, who only completed his plan concerning metaphysics. He initially thought it would be easy to adapt the intellectual map or general survey of human knowledge sketched by Bacon and refined by D’Alembert to the advanced state of the sciences, believing its unmatched authority would mitigate criticism. However, upon closer inspection, he discovered that the logical foundation of this systematic arrangement was fundamentally flawed; doubting whether the time was right for a successful redoing of this bold experiment, he refrained from proposing a new scheme of his own. Sir James Mackintosh described this discourse as “the most magnificent of Mr. Stewart’s works, a creation that no other contemporary writer of English prose has matched” (Edinburgh Review, xxvii. 191, September 1816). The second dissertation, “On the progress of mathematics and physics,” was by Playfair, who passed away on July 19, 1819, having only completed the period of Newton and Leibniz. The third, by Professor Brande, “On the progress of chemistry from the early Middle Ages to 1800,” was the only one fully completed. These historical dissertations were outstanding and delightful pieces, serving as important and interesting additions to the Encyclopaedia; however, it's hard to see why they should exist as a separate category distinct from the general alphabet. The preface, dated March 1824, begins with an overview of the more significant previous encyclopaedias, recounts the history of this to the sixth edition, describes the preparation for the supplement, and provides an “outline of the contents,” mentioning the main articles and their authors’ names under each major knowledge area, often with notes regarding the characters of both. Among the notable contributors were Leslie, Playfair, Ivory, Sir John Barrow, Tredgold, Jeffrey, John Bird Sumner, Blanco White, Hamilton Smith, and Hazlitt. To please his kind friend Constable, Sir Walter Scott set aside Waverley, which he was finalizing for publication, to write “Chivalry” in April and May 1814. He also wrote “Drama” in November 1818 and “Romance” in the summer of 1823. Since the editor felt past encyclopaedias had largely overlooked political philosophy, he wrote “Balance of Power” and secured articles from James Mill on “Banks for Savings,” “Education,” “Law of Nations,” “Liberty of the Press,” and others, which were reprinted affordably and circulated widely. M’Culloch wrote “Corn Laws,” “Interest,” “Money,” “Political Economy,” etc. Mr. Ricardo wrote on “Commerce” and “Funding System,” while Professor Malthus, in his article “Population,” provided a comprehensive overview of the facts and reasoning supporting his theory. In the article “Egypt,” Dr. Thomas Young “first presented to the public an extensive view of the results of his successful interpretation of the hieroglyphic characters on the Rosetta Stone,” including a vocabulary of 221 words in English, Coptic, Hieroglyphic, and Enchorial, engraved on four plates. There were approximately 160 biographies, primarily of individuals who had died in the previous 30 years. Constable “desired short biographical summaries of the initial founders of this great work, but they were deemed by my editor to be too insignificant to warrant the recognition that such separate notices would have conferred on them as literary figures, despite the fact that his own prominence in the world originated from their efforts” (Memoirs, ii. 326). It is unfortunate that this wish was not fulfilled, as was done in the later volumes of Zedler. Arago wrote about “Double Refraction” and “Polarization of Light,” a note to which identifies him as the author. Playfair contributed “Aepinus” and “Physical Astronomy.” Biot wrote “Electricity” and “Pendulum.” He “provided his help gladly,” though his articles required translation. Authors’ signatures, modeled after the Encyclopédie, were attached to each article, forming a triple alphabet system from A to XXX, with the full names of the 72 contributors listed in the order of their first appearance. At the end of vol. vi., there are Addenda and Corrigenda, including “Interpolation” by Leslie, and “Polarization of Light” by Arago.
The sixth edition, “revised, corrected and improved,” appeared in half-volume parts, price 16s. in boards, vol. xx. part ii. completing the work in May 1823. Constable, thinking it not wise to reprint so large a book year after year without correction, in 1820 selected Mr Charles Maclaren (1782-1866), as editor. “His attention was chiefly directed to the historical and geographical articles. He was to keep the press going, and have the whole completed in three years.” He wrote “America,” “Greece,” “Troy,” &c. Many of the large articles as “Agriculture,” “Chemistry,” “Conchology,” were new or nearly so; and references were given to the supplement. A new edition in 25 vols. was contemplated, not to be announced till a certain time after the supplement was finished; but Constable’s house stopped payment on the 19th of January 1826, and his copyrights were sold by auction. Those of the Encyclopaedia were bought by contract, on the 16th of July 1828, for £6150, by Thomas Allan, proprietor of the Caledonian Mercury, Adam Black, Abram Thomson, bookbinder, and Alexander Wight, banker, who, with the trustee of Constable’s estate, had previously begun the seventh edition. Not many years later Mr Black purchased all the shares and became sole proprietor.
The sixth edition, “revised, corrected and improved,” was released in half-volume parts, priced at 16 shillings in boards, volume xx, part ii, completing the work in May 1823. Constable, believing it wasn't wise to keep reprinting such a large book year after year without updates, chose Mr. Charles Maclaren (1782-1866) as the editor in 1820. “His focus was mainly on the historical and geographical articles. He was responsible for keeping the press running and getting everything done in three years.” He wrote about topics like “America,” “Greece,” “Troy,” etc. Many of the major articles, such as “Agriculture,” “Chemistry,” and “Conchology,” were new or nearly so, and references were made to the supplement. A new edition in 25 volumes was planned, but it wasn't supposed to be announced until some time after the supplement was completed; however, Constable's company went bankrupt on January 19, 1826, and his copyrights were sold at auction. The copyrights for the Encyclopaedia were acquired by contract on July 16, 1828, for £6150, by Thomas Allan, owner of the Caledonian Mercury, Adam Black, Abram Thomson, a bookbinder, and Alexander Wight, a banker, who, along with the trustee of Constable’s estate, had already started work on the seventh edition. Not long after, Mr. Black bought all the shares and became the sole owner.
The seventh edition, 21 vols. 4to (with an index of 187 pages, compiled by Robert Cox), containing 17,101 pages and 506 plates, edited by Macvey Napier, assisted by James Browne, LL.D., was begun in 1827, and published from March 1830 to January 1842. It was reset throughout and stereotyped. Mathematical diagrams were printed in the text from woodcuts. The first half of the preface was nearly that of the supplement. The list of signatures, containing 167 names, consists of four alphabets with additions, and differs altogether from that in the supplement: many names are omitted, the order is changed and 103 are added. A list follows of over 300 articles, without signatures, by 87 writers. The dissertations—1st, Stewart’s, 289 pages; 2nd, “Ethics” (136 pages), by Sir James Mackintosh, whose death prevented the addition of “Political Philosophy”; 3rd, Playfair’s, 139 pages; 4th, its continuation by Sir John Leslie, 100 pages—and their index of 30 pages, fill vol. i. As they did not include Greek philosophy, “Aristotle,” “Plato” 380 and “Socrates” were supplied by Dr Hampden, afterwards bishop of Hereford. Among the numerous contributors of eminence, mention may be made of Sir David Brewster, Prof. Phillips, Prof. Spalding, John Hill Burton, Thomas De Quincey, Patrick Fraser Tytler, Capt. Basil Hall, Sir Thomas Dick Lauder, Antonio Panizzi, John Scott Russell and Robert Stephenson. Zoology was divided into 11 chief articles, “Mammalia,” “Ornithology,” “Reptilia,” “Ichthyology,” “Mollusca,” “Crustacea,” “Arachnides,” “Entomology,” “Helminthology,” “Zoophytes,” and “Animalcule”—all by James Wilson.
The seventh edition, 21 volumes, 4to (featuring a 187-page index compiled by Robert Cox), includes 17,101 pages and 506 plates, edited by Macvey Napier, with assistance from James Browne, LL.D. It started in 1827 and was published from March 1830 to January 1842. The entire work was reset and stereotyped. Mathematical diagrams were included in the text using woodcuts. The first half of the preface closely resembled that of the supplement. The list of signatures, which contains 167 names, is made up of four alphabets with additional entries and is significantly different from that in the supplement: many names are left out, the order has been changed, and 103 new names have been added. Following this is a list of over 300 articles, without signatures, contributed by 87 writers. The dissertations—1st, Stewart’s, 289 pages; 2nd, “Ethics” (136 pages), by Sir James Mackintosh, whose passing prevented the addition of “Political Philosophy”; 3rd, Playfair’s, 139 pages; 4th, its continuation by Sir John Leslie, 100 pages—and their index of 30 pages comprise volume I. Since they didn’t cover Greek philosophy, “Aristotle,” “Plato” 380 and “Socrates” were provided by Dr. Hampden, who later became the bishop of Hereford. Among the many distinguished contributors, we should note Sir David Brewster, Prof. Phillips, Prof. Spalding, John Hill Burton, Thomas De Quincey, Patrick Fraser Tytler, Capt. Basil Hall, Sir Thomas Dick Lauder, Antonio Panizzi, John Scott Russell, and Robert Stephenson. Zoology was divided into 11 main articles: “Mammalia,” “Ornithology,” “Reptilia,” “Ichthyology,” “Mollusca,” “Crustacea,” “Arachnides,” “Entomology,” “Helminthology,” “Zoophytes,” and “Animalcule”—all written by James Wilson.
The eighth edition, 1853-1860, 4to, 21 vols. (and index of 239 pages, 1861), containing 17,957 pages and 402 plates, with many woodcuts, was edited by Dr Thomas Stewart Traill, professor of medical jurisprudence in Edinburgh University. The dissertations were reprinted, with one on the “Rise, Progress and Corruptions of Christianity” (97 pages), by Archbishop Whately, and a continuation of Leslie’s to 1850, by Professor James David Forbes, 198 pages, the work of nearly three years, called by himself his “magnum opus” (Life, pp. 361, 366). Lord Macaulay, Charles Kingsley, Isaac Taylor, Hepworth Dixon, Robert Chambers, Rev. Charles Merivale, Rev. F.W. Farrar, Sir John Richardson, Dr Scoresby, Dr Hooker, Henry Austin Layard, Edw. B. Eastwick, John Crawfurd, Augustus Petermann, Baron Bunsen, Sir John Herschel, Dr Lankester, Professors Owen, Rankine, William Thomson, Aytoun, Blackie, Daniel Wilson and Jukes, were some of the many eminent new contributors found among the 344 authors, of whom an alphabetical list is given, with a key to the signatures. In the preface a list of 279 articles by 189 writers, classed under 15 heads, is given. This edition was not wholly reset like the seventh, but many long articles were retained almost or entirely intact.
The eighth edition, 1853-1860, 4to, 21 volumes (along with a 239-page index in 1861), includes 17,957 pages and 402 plates, featuring numerous woodcuts. It was edited by Dr. Thomas Stewart Traill, a professor of medical jurisprudence at Edinburgh University. The dissertations were republished, including one on the “Rise, Progress and Corruptions of Christianity” (97 pages) by Archbishop Whately, and a continuation of Leslie’s work up to 1850, by Professor James David Forbes, which spans 198 pages and took nearly three years to complete, referred to by him as his “magnum opus” (Life, pp. 361, 366). Lord Macaulay, Charles Kingsley, Isaac Taylor, Hepworth Dixon, Robert Chambers, Rev. Charles Merivale, Rev. F.W. Farrar, Sir John Richardson, Dr. Scoresby, Dr. Hooker, Henry Austin Layard, Edw. B. Eastwick, John Crawfurd, Augustus Petermann, Baron Bunsen, Sir John Herschel, Dr. Lankester, and Professors Owen, Rankine, William Thomson, Aytoun, Blackie, Daniel Wilson, and Jukes were among the many notable new contributors among the 344 authors, with an alphabetical list and a key to the signatures provided. The preface includes a list of 279 articles by 189 writers, categorized under 15 headings. This edition was not completely reset like the seventh, but many lengthy articles were kept almost entirely intact.
The publication of the ninth edition (A. & C. Black) was commenced in January 1875, under the editorship of Thomas Spencer Baynes until 1880, and subsequently of W. Robertson Smith, and completed in 1889, 24 vols., with index. This great edition retained a certain amount of the valuable material in the eighth, but was substantially a new work; and it was universally acknowledged to stand in the forefront of the scholarship of its time. Its contributors included the most distinguished men of letters and of science. In 1898 a reprint, sold at about half the original price, and on the plan of payment by instalments, was issued by The Times of London; and in 1902, under the joint editorship of Sir Donald Mackenzie Wallace, President Arthur T. Hadley of Yale University, and Hugh Chisholm, eleven supplementary volumes were published, forming, with the 24 vols. of the ninth edition, a tenth edition of 35 volumes. These included a volume of maps, and an elaborate index (vol. 35) to the whole edition, comprising some 600,000 entries. In May 1903 a start was made with the preparation of the 11th edition, under the general editorship of Hugh Chisholm, with W. Alison Phillips as chief assistant-editor, and a staff of editorial assistants, the whole work of organization being conducted up to December 1909 from The Times office. Arrangements were then made by which the copyright and control of the Encyclopaedia Britannica passed to Cambridge University, for the publication at the University Press in 1910-1911 of the 29 volumes (one being Index) of the 11th edition, a distinctive feature of this issue being the appearance of the whole series of volumes practically at the same time.
The ninth edition (A. & C. Black) was launched in January 1875, edited by Thomas Spencer Baynes until 1880, and then by W. Robertson Smith, finishing in 1889 with 24 volumes and an index. This significant edition kept some valuable content from the eighth edition but was largely a new work, widely recognized as the leading scholarship of its time. Its contributors included some of the most esteemed writers and scientists. In 1898, a reprint was issued by The Times of London, sold for about half the original price and available through installment payments. In 1902, with joint editorship from Sir Donald Mackenzie Wallace, Yale University President Arthur T. Hadley, and Hugh Chisholm, eleven supplementary volumes were published, creating a tenth edition of 35 volumes alongside the 24 volumes of the ninth edition. This included a volume of maps and a detailed index (vol. 35) with around 600,000 entries. In May 1903, preparations began for the 11th edition, led by Hugh Chisholm with W. Alison Phillips as chief assistant editor and a team of editorial assistants, with all organization conducted from The Times office until December 1909. Arrangements were then made for the copyright and control of the Encyclopaedia Britannica to transfer to Cambridge University, leading to the publication at the University Press in 1910-1911 of the 29 volumes (including one index) of the 11th edition, notable for the simultaneous release of the entire series.
A new and enlarged edition of the Encyclopédie arranged as a system of separate dictionaries, and entitled Encyclopédie méthodique ou par ordre de matières, was undertaken by Charles Joseph Panckoucke, a publisher of Paris (born at Lille on the 26th of November 1736, died on the 19th of December 1798). His privilege was dated the 20th of June 1780. The articles belonging to different subjects would readily form distinct dictionaries, although, having been constructed for an alphabetical plan, they seemed unsuited for any system wholly methodical. Two copies of the book and its supplement were cut up into articles, which were sorted into subjects. The division adopted was: 1, mathematics; 2 physics; 3, medicine; 4, anatomy and physiology; 5, surgery; 6, chemistry, metallurgy and pharmacy; 7, agriculture; 8, natural history of animals, in six parts; 9, botany; 10, minerals; 11, physical geography; 12, ancient and modern geography; 13, antiquities; 14, history; 15, theology; 16, philosophy; 17, metaphysics, logic and morality; 18, grammar and literature; 19, law; 20, finance; 21, political economy; 22, commerce; 23, marine; 24, art militaire; 25, beaux arts; 26, arts et métiers—all forming distinct dictionaries entrusted to different editors. The first object of each editor was to exclude all articles belonging to other subjects, and to take care that those of a doubtful nature should not be omitted by all. In some words (such as air, which belonged equally to chemistry, physics and medicine) the methodical arrangement has the unexpected effect of breaking up the single article into several widely separated. Each dictionary was to have an introduction and a classified table of the principal articles. History and its minor parts, as inscriptions, fables, medals, were to be included. Theology, which was neither complete, exact nor orthodox, was to be by the abbé Bergier, confessor to Monsieur. The whole work was to be completed and connected together by a Vocabulaire Universel, 1 vol. 4to, with references to all the places where each word occurred, and a very exact history of the Encyclopédie and its editions by Panckoucke. The prospectus, issued early in 1782, proposed three editions—84 vols. 8vo, 43 vols. 4to with 3 columns to a page, and 53 vols. 4to of about 100 sheets with 2 columns to a page, each edition having 7 vols. 4to of 250 to 300 plates each. The subscription was to be 672 livres from the 15th of March to July 1782, then 751, and 888 after April 1783. It was to be issued in livraisons of 2 vols. each, the first (jurisprudence, vol. i., literature, vol. i.) to appear in July 1782, and the whole to be finished in 1787. The number of subscribers, 4072, was so great that the subscription list of 672 livres was closed on the 30th of April. Twenty-five printing offices were employed, and in November 1782 the 1st livraison (jurisprudence, vol. i., and half vol. each of arts et métiers and histoire naturelle) was issued. A Spanish prospectus was sent out, and obtained 330 Spanish subscribers, with the inquisitor-general at their head. The complaints of the subscribers and his own heavy advances, over 150,000 livres, induced Panckoucke, in November 1788, to appeal to the authors to finish the work. Those en retard made new contracts, giving their word of honour to put their parts to press in 1788, and to continue them without interruption, so that Panckoucke hoped to finish the whole, including the vocabulary (4 or 5 vols.), in 1792. Whole sciences, as architecture, engineering, hunting, police, games, &c., had been overlooked in the prospectus; a new division was made in 44 parts, to contain 51 dictionaries and about 124 vols. Permission was obtained on the 27th of February 1789, to receive subscriptions for the separate dictionaries. Two thousand subscribers were lost by the Revolution. The 50th livraison appeared on the 23rd of July 1792, when all the dictionaries eventually published had been begun except seven—jeux familiers and mathématiques, physics, art oratoire, physical geography, chasses and pêches; and 18 were finished,—mathematics, games, surgery, ancient and modern geography, history, theology, logic, grammar, jurisprudence, finance, political economy, commerce, marine, arts militaires, arts académiques, arts et métiers, encyclopediana. Supplements were added to military art in 1797, and to history in 1807, but not to any of the other 16, though required for most long before 1832. The publication was continued by Henri Agasse, Panckoucke’s son-in-law, from 1794 to 1813, and then by Mme Agasse, his widow, to 1832, when it was completed in 102 livraisons or 337 parts, forming 166½ vols. of text, and 51 parts containing 6439 plates. The letterpress issued with the plates amounts to 5458 pages, making with the text 124,210 pages. To save expense the plates belonging to architecture were not published. Pharmacy (separated from chemistry), minerals, education, ponts et chaussées had been announced but were not published, neither was the Vocabulaire Universel, the key and index to the whole work, so that it is difficult to carry out any research or to find all the articles on any subject. The original parts have been so often subdivided, and have been so added to by other dictionaries, supplements and appendices, that, without going into great detail, an exact account cannot be given of the work, which contains 88 alphabets, with 83 indexes, and 166 introductions, discourses, prefaces, &c. Many dictionaries have a classed index of articles; that of économie politique is very excellent, giving the contents of each article, so that any passage can be found easily. The largest dictionaries are medicine, 13 vols., 10,330 pages; zoology, 7 dictionaries, 13,645 pages, 1206 plates; botany, 12,002 pages, 1000 plates (34 only of cryptogamic plants); geography, 3 dictionaries and 2 atlases, 9090 pages, 193 maps and plates; jurisprudence (with police and municipalities), 10 vols., 7607 pages. Anatomy, 381 4 vols., 2866 pages, is not a dictionary but a series of systematic treatises. Assemblée Nationale was to be in three parts,—(1) the history of the Revolution, (2) debates, and (3) laws and decrees. Only vol. ii., debates, appeared, 1792, 804 pages, Absens to Aurillac. Ten volumes of a Spanish translation with a vol. of plates were published at Madrid to 1806—viz. historia natural, i. ii.; grammatica, i.; arte militar, i., ii.; geografia, i.-iii.; fabricas, i., ii., plates, vol. i. A French edition was printed at Padua, with the plates, says Peignot, very carefully engraved. Probably no more unmanageable body of dictionaries has ever been published except Migne’s Encyclopédie théologique, Paris, 1844-1875, 4to, 168 vols., 101 dictionaries, 119,059 pages.
A new and expanded edition of the Encyclopédie, organized as a system of separate dictionaries and titled Encyclopédie méthodique ou par ordre de matières, was initiated by Charles Joseph Panckoucke, a Paris publisher (born in Lille on November 26, 1736, died on December 19, 1798). His privilege was granted on June 20, 1780. The articles on different subjects were easily arranged into distinct dictionaries, although their original alphabetical organization made them seem unsuitable for a purely methodical system. Two copies of the book and its supplement were divided into articles categorized by subject. The adopted divisions included: 1. mathematics; 2. physics; 3. medicine; 4. anatomy and physiology; 5. surgery; 6. chemistry, metallurgy, and pharmacy; 7. agriculture; 8. natural history of animals, divided into six parts; 9. botany; 10. minerals; 11. physical geography; 12. ancient and modern geography; 13. antiquities; 14. history; 15. theology; 16. philosophy; 17. metaphysics, logic, and ethics; 18. grammar and literature; 19. law; 20. finance; 21. political economy; 22. commerce; 23. marine affairs; 24. military art; 25. fine arts; 26. arts and trades—all of which formed separate dictionaries managed by different editors. Each editor's primary goal was to exclude articles that fell under other subjects and ensure that ambiguous articles were included. In some cases (like the term air, which related to chemistry, physics, and medicine) the methodical system unexpectedly fragmented the articles. Each dictionary was to have an introduction and a categorized table of the main articles. History and its minor components, like inscriptions, fables, and medals, were to be included. Theology was to be handled by Abbé Bergier, who was the confessor to Monsieur, although it was incomplete, precise, or orthodox. The entire work was to be finalized and compiled into a Vocabulaire Universel, one volume 4to, containing references to where each word appeared and a detailed history of the Encyclopédie and its editions as done by Panckoucke. The prospectus, released early in 1782, announced three editions—84 volumes in 8vo, 43 volumes in 4to with three columns per page, and 53 volumes in 4to of about 100 sheets with two columns per page, each edition including 7 volumes in 4to with 250 to 300 plates each. The subscription was set at 672 livres from March 15 to July 1782, then raised to 751, and 888 after April 1783. It was to be issued in livraisons of two volumes each, with the first (jurisprudence, vol. i., literature, vol. i.) scheduled for release in July 1782, aiming for completion in 1787. The number of subscribers reached 4,072, so significant that the subscription list for 672 livres closed on April 30. Twenty-five printing offices were engaged, and in November 1782, the first livraison (jurisprudence, vol. i., and half volumes of arts et métiers and histoire naturelle) was published. A Spanish prospectus was circulated and attracted 330 Spanish subscribers, including the inquisitor-general. Complaints from subscribers and Panckoucke’s heavy investments, totaling over 150,000 livres, led him to appeal to the authors to finish the work in November 1788. Those en retard made new agreements, promising to submit their parts by 1788 and to continue without pause, so Panckoucke hoped to complete everything, including the vocabulary (4 or 5 volumes), by 1792. Entire fields, like architecture, engineering, hunting, policing, games, etc., had been neglected in the prospectus; a new classification was created in 44 parts to include 51 dictionaries and about 124 volumes. On February 27, 1789, permission was granted to accept subscriptions for the separate dictionaries. The Revolution caused a loss of 2,000 subscribers. The 50th livraison was released on July 23, 1792, by which time all the dictionaries that were eventually published had been started except for seven—jeux familiers and mathématiques, physics, art oratoire, physical geography, chasses and pêches; and 18 had been completed—mathematics, games, surgery, ancient and modern geography, history, theology, logic, grammar, jurisprudence, finance, political economy, commerce, marine affairs, military arts, academic arts, arts et métiers, encyclopédiana. Supplements for military arts came in 1797 and for history in 1807, but not for any of the other 16, although most were needed long before 1832. Henri Agasse, Panckoucke’s son-in-law, continued publication from 1794 to 1813, followed by Mme Agasse, his widow, until 1832, when it was completed in 102 livraisons or 337 parts, totaling 166½ volumes of text and 51 parts with 6,439 plates. The text accompanying the plates adds up to 5,458 pages, bringing the total with the text to 124,210 pages. To cut costs, the plates related to architecture were not published. Announcements had been made for pharmacy (separated from chemistry), minerals, education, and bridges and roads, but those were not published, nor was the Vocabulaire Universel, the key and index for the entire work, making it difficult to conduct research or locate all articles on any topic. The original parts have often been subdivided and supplemented by other dictionaries, supplements, and appendices, so a detailed account of the work, which includes 88 alphabets, 83 indexes, and 166 introductions, discourses, prefaces, etc., cannot be provided without going into extensive detail. Many dictionaries feature a classified index of articles; the one for political economy is particularly excellent, detailing the contents of each article for easy reference. The largest dictionaries include medicine, with 13 volumes and 10,330 pages; zoology, encompassing 7 dictionaries, totaling 13,645 pages and 1,206 plates; botany, with 12,002 pages and 1,000 plates (34 of which are for cryptogamic plants); geography, which contains 3 dictionaries and 2 atlases, amounting to 9,090 pages along with 193 maps and plates; and jurisprudence (including police and municipalities), comprising 10 volumes and 7,607 pages. Anatomy, 381 consisting of 4 volumes and 2,866 pages, is not a dictionary but a series of systematic treatises. The Assemblée Nationale was supposed to include three parts—(1) the history of the Revolution, (2) debates, and (3) laws and decrees. However, only volume ii, debates, was published in 1792, spanning 804 pages from Absens to Aurillac. Ten volumes of a Spanish translation, along with a volume of plates, were published in Madrid until 1806—specifically, historia natural, i. ii.; grammatica, i.; arte militar, i., ii.; geografia, i.-iii.; fabricas, i., ii., plates, vol. i. A French edition was printed in Padua, with the plates reportedly engraved with great care, according to Peignot. Probably no other collection of dictionaries has been as unwieldy as this one, except for Migne's Encyclopédie théologique, Paris, 1844-1875, 4to, 168 volumes, 101 dictionaries, 119,059 pages.
No work of reference has been more useful and successful, or more frequently copied, imitated and translated, than that known as the Conversations Lexikon of Brockhaus. It was begun as Conversations Lexikon mit vorzüglicher Rücksicht auf die gegenwärtigen Zeiten, Leipzig, 1796 to 1808, 8vo, 6 vols., 2762 pages, by Dr Gotthelf Renatus Löbel (born on the 1st of April 1767 at Thalwitz near Wurzen in Saxony, died on the 14th of February 1799), who intended to supersede Hübner, and included geography, history, and in part biography, besides mythology, philosophy, natural history, &c. Vols. i.-iv. (A to R) appeared 1796 to 1800, vol. v. in 1806. Friedrich Arnold Brockhaus (q.v.) bought the work with its copyright on the 25th of October 1808, for 1800 thalers from the printer, who seems to have got it in payment of his bill. The editor, Christian Wilhelm Franke, by contract dated the 16th of November, was to finish vol. vi. by the 5th of December, and the already projected supplement, 2 vols., by Michaelmas 1809, for 8 thalers a printed sheet. No penalty was specified, but, says his grandson, Brockhaus was to learn that such contracts, whether under penalty or not, are not kept, for the supplement was finished only in 1811. Brockhaus issued a new impression as Conversations Lexikon oder kurzgefasstes Handwörterbuch, &c, 1809-1811, and on removing to Altenburg in 1811 began himself to edit the 2nd edition (1812-1819, 10 vols.), and, when vol. iv. was published, the 3rd (1814-1819). He carried on both editions together until 1817, when he removed to Leipzig, and began the 4th edition as Allgemeine deutsche Realencyclopädie für die gebildeten Stände. Conversations Lexikon. This title was, in the 14th edition, changed to that of Brockhaus’ Konversations Lexicon. The 5th edition was at once begun, and was finished in eighteen months. Dr Ludwig Hain assisted in editing the 4th and 5th editions until he left Leipzig in April 1820, when Professor F.C. Hasse took his place. The 12,000 copies of the 5th edition being exhausted while vol. x. was at press, a 2nd unaltered impression of 10,000 was required in 1820 and a 3rd of 10,000 in 1822. The 6th edition, 10 vols., was begun in September 1822. Brockhaus died in 1823, and his two eldest sons, Friedrich and Heinrich, who carried on the business for the heirs and became sole possessors in 1829, finished the edition with Hasse’s assistance in September 1823. The 7th edition (1827-1829, 12 vols., 10,489 pages, 13,000 copies, 2nd impression 14,000) was edited by Hasse. The 8th edition (1833-1836, 12 vols., 10,689 pages, 31,000 copies to 1842), begun in the autumn of 1832, ended May 1837, was edited by Dr Karl August Espe (born February 1804, died in the Irrenanstalt at Stötteritz near Leipzig on the 24th of November 1850) with the aid of many learned and distinguished writers. A general index, Universal Register, 242 pages, was added in 1839. The 9th edition (1843-1847, 15 vols., 11,470 pages, over 30,000 copies) was edited by Dr Espe. The 10th edition (1851-1855, 12,564 pages) was also in 15 vols., for convenience in reference, and was edited by Dr August Kurtzel aided by Oskar Pilz. Friedrich Brockhaus had retired in 1849; Dr Heinrich Edward, the elder son of Heinrich, made partner in 1854, assisted in this edition, and Heinrich Rudolf, the younger son, partner since 1863, in the 11th (1864-1868, 15 vols. of 60 sheets, 13,366 pages).
No reference work has been more useful and successful, or more frequently copied, imitated, and translated, than the Conversations Lexikon by Brockhaus. It started as Conversations Lexikon mit vorzüglicher Rücksicht auf die gegenwärtigen Zeiten, Leipzig, 1796 to 1808, 8vo, 6 vols., 2762 pages, by Dr. Gotthelf Renatus Löbel (born April 1, 1767, in Thalwitz near Wurzen in Saxony, died February 14, 1799), who aimed to replace Hübner, and included geography, history, partial biography, as well as mythology, philosophy, natural history, etc. Vols. i.-iv. (A to R) were published from 1796 to 1800, and vol. v. in 1806. Friedrich Arnold Brockhaus (q.v.) purchased the work along with its copyright on October 25, 1808, for 1800 thalers from the printer, who seems to have received it as payment for his bill. The editor, Christian Wilhelm Franke, by contract dated November 16, was set to complete vol. vi. by December 5, and the already planned supplement, 2 vols., by Michaelmas 1809, for 8 thalers per printed sheet. No penalty was specified, but, according to his grandson, Brockhaus was to find out that such contracts, regardless of penalties, are often not honored, as the supplement was completed only in 1811. Brockhaus released a new edition as Conversations Lexikon oder kurzgefasstes Handwörterbuch, etc., from 1809-1811, and upon relocating to Altenburg in 1811 began to edit the 2nd edition (1812-1819, 10 vols.), and when vol. iv. was published, the 3rd edition (1814-1819). He managed both editions until 1817, when he moved to Leipzig and started the 4th edition as Allgemeine deutsche Realencyclopädie für die gebildeten Stände. Conversations Lexikon. This title was changed to Brockhaus’ Konversations Lexicon in the 14th edition. The 5th edition was launched immediately and completed in eighteen months. Dr. Ludwig Hain helped edit the 4th and 5th editions until he left Leipzig in April 1820, when Professor F.C. Hasse took over. The 12,000 copies of the 5th edition were exhausted while vol. x. was being printed, necessitating a 2nd unaltered impression of 10,000 in 1820 and a 3rd of 10,000 in 1822. The 6th edition, 10 vols., began in September 1822. Brockhaus passed away in 1823, and his two eldest sons, Friedrich and Heinrich, who managed the business for the heirs and became sole proprietors in 1829, completed the edition with Hasse’s help in September 1823. The 7th edition (1827-1829, 12 vols., 10,489 pages, 13,000 copies, 2nd impression 14,000) was edited by Hasse. The 8th edition (1833-1836, 12 vols., 10,689 pages, 31,000 copies up to 1842), which began in the fall of 1832, concluded in May 1837, and was edited by Dr. Karl August Espe (born February 1804, died in the asylum at Stötteritz near Leipzig on November 24, 1850) with contributions from many learned and distinguished writers. A general index, Universal Register, with 242 pages, was added in 1839. The 9th edition (1843-1847, 15 vols., 11,470 pages, over 30,000 copies) was edited by Dr. Espe. The 10th edition (1851-1855, 12,564 pages) was also in 15 vols., for easier referencing, and was edited by Dr. August Kurtzel with the assistance of Oskar Pilz. Friedrich Brockhaus retired in 1849; Dr. Heinrich Edward, the elder son of Heinrich, became a partner in 1854 and assisted in this edition, while Heinrich Rudolf, the younger son, who became a partner in 1863, worked on the 11th (1864-1868, 15 vols. of 60 sheets, 13,366 pages).
Kurtzel died on the 24th of April 1871, and Pilz was sole editor until March 1872, when Dr Gustav Stockmann joined, who was alone from April until joined by Dr Karl Wippermann in October. Besides the Universal Register of 136 pages and about 50,000 articles, each volume has an index. The supplement, 2 vols, 1764 pages, was begun in February 1871, and finished in April 1873. The 12th edition, begun in 1875, was completed in 1879 in 15 vols., the 13th edition (1882-1887), in 16 vols., and the 14th (1901-1903) in 16 vols. with a supplementary volume in 1904. The Conversations Lexicon is intended, not for scientific use, but to promote general mental improvement by giving the results of research and discovery in a simple and popular form without extended details. The articles, often too brief, are very excellent and trustworthy, especially on German subjects, give references to the best books, and include biographies of living men.
Kurtzel passed away on April 24, 1871, and Pilz was the sole editor until March 1872, when Dr. Gustav Stockmann took over, remaining alone until Dr. Karl Wippermann joined in October. In addition to the Universal Register of 136 pages and about 50,000 articles, each volume has an index. The supplement, consisting of 2 volumes and 1,764 pages, started in February 1871 and was completed in April 1873. The 12th edition, which began in 1875, was finished in 1879 in 15 volumes, the 13th edition (1882-1887) in 16 volumes, and the 14th (1901-1903) also in 16 volumes, with a supplementary volume released in 1904. The Conversations Lexicon is designed not for scientific purposes, but to enhance general knowledge by presenting research and discoveries in an accessible format without too many details. The articles, while sometimes brief, are excellent and reliable, especially on German topics, providing references to the best books and including biographies of living individuals.
One of the best German encyclopaedias is that of Meyer, Neues Konversations-Lexicon. The first edition, in 37 vols., was published in 1839-1852. The later editions, following closely the arrangement of Brockhaus, are the 4th (1885-1890, 17 vols.), the 5th (1894-1898, 18 vols.), and the 6th (begun in 1902).
One of the best German encyclopedias is Meyer’s, Neues Konversations-Lexicon. The first edition, in 37 volumes, was published from 1839 to 1852. The later editions, which closely follow the layout of Brockhaus, are the 4th (1885-1890, 17 volumes), the 5th (1894-1898, 18 volumes), and the 6th (started in 1902).
The most copious German encyclopaedia is Ersch and Gruber’s Allgemeine Encyklopädie der Wissenschaften und Künste, Leipzig. It was designed and begun in 1813 by Professor Johann Samuel Ersch (born at Gross Glogau on the 23rd of June 1766, chief librarian at Halle, died on the 16th of January 1828) to satisfy the wants of Germans, only in part supplied by foreign works. It was stopped by the war until 1816, when Professor Hufeland (born at Danzig on the 19th of October 1760) joined, but he died on the 25th of November 1817 while the specimen part was at press. The editors of the different sections at various times have been some of the best-known men of learning in Germany, including J.G. Gruber, M.H.E. Meier, Hermann Brockhaus, W. Müller and A.G. Hoffmann of Jena.
The largest German encyclopedia is Ersch and Gruber’s Allgemeine Encyklopädie der Wissenschaften und Künste, Leipzig. It was created and started in 1813 by Professor Johann Samuel Ersch (born in Gross Glogau on June 23, 1766, chief librarian at Halle, died January 16, 1828) to meet the needs of Germans, which were only partially addressed by foreign works. Publication was paused due to the war until 1816, when Professor Hufeland (born in Danzig on October 19, 1760) joined, but he passed away on November 25, 1817, while the sample part was being printed. The editors of the different sections have included some of the most renowned scholars in Germany, such as J.G. Gruber, M.H.E. Meier, Hermann Brockhaus, W. Müller, and A.G. Hoffmann of Jena.
The work is divided into three sections (1) A-G, of which 99 vols. had appeared by 1905, (2) H-N, 43 vols., (3) O-Z, 25 vols. All articles bear the authors’ names, and those not ready in time were placed at the end of their letter. The longest in the work is Griechenland, vols. 80-87, 3668 pages, with a table of contents. It began to appear after vol. 73 (Götze to Gondouin), and hence does not come in its proper place, which is in vol. 91. Gross Britannien contains 700 pages, and Indien by Benfey 356.
The work is divided into three sections: (1) A-G, with 99 volumes published by 1905, (2) H-N, 43 volumes, and (3) O-Z, 25 volumes. All articles list the authors’ names, and those that weren’t ready in time were added at the end of their respective letter. The longest entry in the collection is Griechenland, volumes 80-87, totaling 3,668 pages, along with a table of contents. It started to be published after volume 73 (Götze to Gondouin), so it’s not in its correct order, which should be in volume 91. Gross Britannien has 700 pages, and Indien by Benfey has 356.
The Encyclopaedia Metropolitana (London, 1845, 4to, 28 vols., issued in 59 parts in 1817-1845, 22,426 pages, 565 plates) professed to give sciences and systematic arts entire and in their natural sequence, as shown in the introductory treatise on method by S.T. Coleridge. “The plan was the proposal of the poet Coleridge, and it had at least enough of a poetical character to be eminently unpractical” (Quarterly Review, cxiii., 379). However defective the plan, the excellence of many of the treatises by Archbishop Whately, Sir John Herschel, Professors Barlow, Peacock, de Morgan, &c., is undoubted. It is in four divisions, the last only being alphabetical:—I. Pure Sciences, 2 vols., 1813 pages, 16 plates, 28 treatises, includes grammar, law and theology; II. Mixed and Applied Sciences, 8 vols., 5391 pages, 437 plates, 42 treatises, including fine arts, useful arts, natural history and its “application,” the medical sciences; III. History and Biography, 5 vols., 4458 pages, 7 maps, containing biography (135 essays) chronologically arranged (to Thomas Aquinas in vol. 3), and interspersed with (210) chapters on history (to 1815), as the most philosophical, interesting and natural form (but modern lives were so many that the plan broke down, and a division of biography, to be in 2 vols., was announced but not published); IV. Miscellaneous, 12 vols., 10,338 pages, 105 plates, including geography, a dictionary of English (the first form of Richardson’s) and descriptive natural history. The index, 364 pages, contains about 9000 articles. A re-issue in 38 vols. 4to, was announced in 1849. Of a second edition 42 vols. 8vo, 14,744 pages, belonging to divisions i. to iii., were published in 1849-1858.
The Encyclopaedia Metropolitana (London, 1845, 4to, 28 vols., released in 59 parts from 1817 to 1845, totaling 22,426 pages and featuring 565 plates) aimed to cover sciences and systematic arts completely and in their natural order, as outlined in the introductory essay on method by S.T. Coleridge. “The plan was proposed by the poet Coleridge, and it had enough of a poetic quality to be extremely impractical” (Quarterly Review, cxiii., 379). Despite the shortcomings of the plan, the quality of many contributions by Archbishop Whately, Sir John Herschel, Professors Barlow, Peacock, de Morgan, etc., is unquestionable. It is divided into four sections, with the last one being alphabetical: I. Pure Sciences, 2 vols., 1813 pages, 16 plates, 28 essays, covering grammar, law, and theology; II. Mixed and Applied Sciences, 8 vols., 5391 pages, 437 plates, 42 essays, including fine arts, useful arts, natural history and its “application,” and medical sciences; III. History and Biography, 5 vols., 4458 pages, 7 maps, containing biography (135 essays) arranged chronologically (up to Thomas Aquinas in vol. 3), interspersed with (210) chapters on history (up to 1815), as the most philosophical and engaging format (but with so many modern lives, the plan became unmanageable, and a separate volume for biography was announced but never published); IV. Miscellaneous, 12 vols., 10,338 pages, 105 plates, including geography, a dictionary of English (the first version of Richardson’s), and descriptive natural history. The index, with 364 pages, lists about 9000 entries. A reissue in 38 vols. 4to was announced in 1849. A second edition of 42 vols. 8vo, totaling 14,744 pages, covering divisions i. to iii., was published from 1849 to 1858.
The very excellent and useful English Cyclopaedia (London, 1854-1862, 4to, 23 vols., 12,117 pages; supplements, 1869-1873, 4 vols., 2858 pages), conducted by Charles Knight, based on the Penny Cyclopaedia (London, 1833-1846, 4to, 29 vols., 15,625 pages), of which he had the copyright, is in four divisions all alphabetical, and evidently very unequal as classes:—1, geography; 2, natural history; 3, biography (with 703 lives of living persons); 4, arts and sciences. The synoptical index, 168 pages, has four columns on a page, one for each division, so that the order is alphabetical and yet the words are classed.
The very excellent and useful English Cyclopaedia (London, 1854-1862, 4to, 23 vols., 12,117 pages; supplements, 1869-1873, 4 vols., 2858 pages), led by Charles Knight, based on the Penny Cyclopaedia (London, 1833-1846, 4to, 29 vols., 15,625 pages), of which he held the copyright, is divided into four alphabetical sections that are clearly unequal in size: 1. geography; 2. natural history; 3. biography (with 703 lives of currently living individuals); 4. arts and sciences. The synoptic index, spanning 168 pages, has four columns on each page, one for each section, so the information is organized alphabetically while also being categorized.
Chambers’s Encyclopaedia (Edinburgh, W. & R. Chambers), 1860-1868, 8vo, 10 vols., 8283 pages, edited in part by the publishers, but under the charge of Dr Andrew Findlater as “acting 382 editor” throughout, was founded on the 10th edition of Brockhaus. A revised edition appeared in 1874, 8320 pages. In the list of 126 contributors were J.H. Burton, Emmanuel Deutsch, Professor Goldstücker, &c. The index of matters not having special articles contained about 1500 headings. The articles were generally excellent, more especially on Jewish literature, folk-lore and practical science; but, as in Brockhaus, the scope of the work did not allow extended treatment. A further revision took place, and in 1888-1892 an entirely new edition was published, in 10 vols., still further new editions being issued in 1895 and in 1901.
Chambers’s Encyclopaedia (Edinburgh, W. & R. Chambers), 1860-1868, 8vo, 10 vols., 8283 pages, was partially edited by the publishers, but primarily overseen by Dr. Andrew Findlater as “acting 382 editor” throughout. It was based on the 10th edition of Brockhaus. A revised edition came out in 1874, totaling 8320 pages. Among the 126 contributors were J.H. Burton, Emmanuel Deutsch, Professor Goldstücker, and others. The index of subjects without specific articles had about 1500 entries. The articles were generally excellent, particularly regarding Jewish literature, folklore, and practical science; however, similar to Brockhaus, the work's scope did not permit extensive coverage. Another revision followed, leading to a completely new edition published between 1888 and 1892, consisting of 10 volumes, with additional new editions released in 1895 and 1901.
An excellent brief compilation, the Harmsworth Encyclopaedia (1905), was published in 40 fortnightly parts (sevenpence each) in England, and as Nelson’s Encyclopaedia (revised) in 12 vols. (1906) in America. It was originally prepared for Messrs Nelson of Edinburgh and for the Carmelite Press, London.
An excellent short collection, the Harmsworth Encyclopaedia (1905), was released in 40 bi-weekly installments (sevenpence each) in England, and as Nelson’s Encyclopaedia (revised) in 12 volumes (1906) in America. It was initially created for Messrs Nelson of Edinburgh and the Carmelite Press, London.
In the United States various encyclopaedias have been published, but without rivalling there the Encyclopædia Britannica, the 9th edition of which was extensively pirated. Several American Supplements were also issued.
In the United States, various encyclopedias have been published, but none have rivaled the Encyclopædia Britannica, the 9th edition of which was widely pirated. Several American supplements were also released.
The New American Cyclopaedia, New York (Appleton & Co.), 1858-1863, 16 vols., 12,752 pages, was the work of the editors, George Ripley and Charles Anderson Dana, and 364 contributors, chiefly American. A supplementary work, the American Annual Cyclopaedia, a yearly 8vo vol. of about 800 pages and 250 articles, was started in 1861, but ceased in 1902. In a new edition, the American Cyclopaedia, 1873-1876, 8vo, 16 vols., 13,484 pages, by the same editors, 4 associate editors, 31 revisers and a librarian, each article passed through the hands of 6 or 8 revisers.
The New American Cyclopaedia, New York (Appleton & Co.), 1858-1863, 16 vols., 12,752 pages, was created by editors George Ripley and Charles Anderson Dana, along with 364 contributors, mostly American. A supplementary work, the American Annual Cyclopaedia, a yearly 8vo volume of about 800 pages and 250 articles, began in 1861 but stopped in 1902. In a new edition, the American Cyclopaedia, 1873-1876, 8vo, 16 vols., 13,484 pages, edited by the same two editors, 4 associate editors, 31 revisers, and a librarian, ensured that each article went through the scrutiny of 6 or 8 revisers.
Other American encyclopaedias are Alvin J. Johnson’s New Universal Cyclopaedia, 1875-1877, in 4 vols., a new edition of which (excellently planned) was published in 8 vols., 1893-1895, under the name of Johnson’s Universal Cyclopaedia; the Encyclopaedia Americana, edited by Francis Lieber, which appeared in 1839-1847 in 14 vols.; a new work under the same title, published in 1903-1904 in 16 vols.; the International Cyclopaedia, first published in 1884 (revised in 1891, 1894 and 1898), and superseded in 1902 (revised, 1906) by the New International Encyclopaedia in 17 vols.
Other American encyclopedias include Alvin J. Johnson’s New Universal Cyclopaedia, published from 1875 to 1877 in 4 volumes, with a new edition (well-designed) released in 8 volumes from 1893 to 1895, called Johnson’s Universal Cyclopaedia; the Encyclopaedia Americana, edited by Francis Lieber, which came out between 1839 and 1847 in 14 volumes; a new edition with the same title published from 1903 to 1904 in 16 volumes; and the International Cyclopaedia, first published in 1884 (revised in 1891, 1894, and 1898), which was replaced in 1902 (revised in 1906) by the New International Encyclopaedia in 17 volumes.
In Europe a great impetus was given to the compilation of encyclopaedias by the appearance of Brockhaus’ Conversations-Lexicon (see above), which, as a begetter of these works, must rank, in the 19th century, with the Cyclopaedia of Ephraim Chambers in the 18th. The following, although in no sense an exhaustive list, may be here mentioned. In France, Le Grand Dictionnaire universel du XIXe siècle, of Pierre Larousse (15 vols., 1866-1876), with supplementary volumes in 1877, 1887 and 1890; the Nouveau Larousse illustré, dictionnaire universel encyclopédique (7 vols., 1901-1904), (this is in no way a re-issue or an abridgment of Le Grand Dictionnaire of Pierre Larousse); La Grande Encyclopédie, inventaire raisonné des sciences, des lettres, et des arts, in 31 vols. (1886-1903). In Italy, the Nuova Enciclopedia Italiana (14 vols., 1841-1851, and in 25 vols., 1875-1888). In Spain, the Diccionario enciclopedico Hispano-Americano de litteratura, ciencias y artes, published at Barcelona (25 vols., 1877-1899). The Russian encyclopaedia, Russkiy Entsiklopedicheskiy Slovar (41 vols., 1905, 2 supplementary vols., 1908) was begun in 1890 as a Russian version of Brockhaus’ Conversations-Lexicon, but has become a monumental encyclopaedia, to which all the best Russian men of science and letters have contributed. Elaborate encyclopaedias have also appeared in the Polish, Hungarian, Bohemian and Rumanian languages. Of Scandinavian encyclopaedias there have been re-issues of the Nordësk Conversations-Lexicon, first published in 1858-1863, and of the Svenskt Conversations-Lexicon, first published in 1845-1851.
In Europe, the creation of encyclopedias was greatly influenced by the release of Brockhaus’ Conversations-Lexicon (see above), which stands as a key originator of these works, alongside Ephraim Chambers' Cyclopaedia from the 18th century. Although this is not a complete list, a few notable examples include: In France, Le Grand Dictionnaire universel du XIXe siècle, by Pierre Larousse (15 vols., 1866-1876), with additional volumes published in 1877, 1887, and 1890; the Nouveau Larousse illustré, dictionnaire universel encyclopédique (7 vols., 1901-1904), which is not a reissue or abridgment of Pierre Larousse's Le Grand Dictionnaire; and La Grande Encyclopédie, inventaire raisonné des sciences, des lettres, et des arts, consisting of 31 volumes (1886-1903). In Italy, the Nuova Enciclopedia Italiana (14 vols., 1841-1851, and later expanded to 25 vols., 1875-1888). In Spain, the Diccionario enciclopedico Hispano-Americano de litteratura, ciencias y artes, published in Barcelona (25 vols., 1877-1899). The Russian encyclopedia, Russkiy Entsiklopedicheskiy Slovar (41 vols., 1905, with 2 supplementary vols., 1908), began in 1890 as a Russian version of Brockhaus’ Conversations-Lexicon, but it evolved into a significant work, receiving contributions from top Russian scholars and writers. Detailed encyclopedias have also emerged in Polish, Hungarian, Bohemian, and Romanian languages. In Scandinavia, there have been reissues of the Nordësk Conversations-Lexicon, originally published between 1858 and 1863, and the Svenskt Conversations-Lexikon, first published from 1845 to 1851.
ENDECOTT, JOHN (c. 1588-1665), English colonial governor in America, was born probably at Dorchester, Dorsetshire, England, about 1588. Little is known of him before 1628, when he was one of the six “joint adventurers” who purchased from the Plymouth Company a strip of land about 60 m. wide along the Massachusetts coast and extending westward to the Pacific Ocean. By his associates Endecott was entrusted with the responsibility of leading the first colonists to the region, and with some sixty persons proceeded to Naumkeag (later Salem) where Roger Conant, a seceder from the colony at Plymouth, had begun a settlement two years earlier. Endecott experienced some trouble with the previous settlers and with Thomas Morton’s settlement at “Merry Mount” (Mount Wollaston, now Quincy), where, in accordance with his strict Puritanical tenets, he cut down the maypole and dispersed the merrymakers. He was the local governor of the Massachusetts Bay Colony from the 30th of April 1629 to the 12th of June 1630, when John Winthrop, who had succeeded Matthew Cradock as governor of the company on the 20th of October 1629, brought the charter to Salem and became governor of the colony as well as of the company. In the years immediately following he continued to take a prominent part in the affairs of the colony, serving as an assistant and as a military commissioner, and commanding, although with little success, an expedition against the Pequots in 1636. At Salem he was a member of the congregation of Roger Williams, whom he resolutely defended in his trouble with the New England clerical hierarchy, and excited by Williams’s teachings, cut the cross of St George from the English flag in token of his hatred of all symbols of Romanism. He was deputy-governor in 1641-1644, and governor in 1644-1645, and served also as sergeant-major-general (commander-in-chief) of the militia and as one of the commissioners of the United Colonies of New England, of which in 1658 he was president. On the death of John Winthrop in 1649 he became governor, and by annual re-elections served continuously until his death, with the exception of two years (1650-1651 and 1654-1655), when he was deputy-governor. Under his authority the colony of Massachusetts Bay made rapid progress, and except in the matter of religious intolerance—he showed great bigotry and harshness, particularly towards the Quakers—his rule was just and praiseworthy. Of him Edward Eggleston says: “A strange mixture of rashness, pious zeal, genial manners, hot temper, and harsh bigotry, his extravagances supply the condiment of humour to a very serious history—it is perhaps the principal debt posterity owes him.” He died on the 15th of March 1665.
ENDECOTT, JOHN (c. 1588-1665), was an English colonial governor in America, likely born in Dorchester, Dorsetshire, England, around 1588. There isn't much information about him before 1628, when he became one of the six "joint adventurers" who bought a piece of land about 60 miles wide along the Massachusetts coast from the Plymouth Company, stretching west to the Pacific Ocean. His peers entrusted him with the task of leading the first colonists to the area, and he traveled with around sixty people to Naumkeag (later Salem), where Roger Conant had started a settlement two years earlier after leaving Plymouth. Endecott faced some issues with the earlier settlers and with Thomas Morton’s settlement at “Merry Mount” (Mount Wollaston, now Quincy), where he, adhering to his strict Puritan beliefs, cut down the maypole and broke up the celebrations. He served as the local governor of the Massachusetts Bay Colony from April 30, 1629, to June 12, 1630, when John Winthrop, who took over from Matthew Cradock as governor of the company on October 20, 1629, arrived in Salem with the charter and became governor of both the colony and the company. In the years that followed, he remained active in colonial affairs, serving as an assistant and military commissioner, and led an unsuccessful expedition against the Pequots in 1636. In Salem, he was part of Roger Williams’s congregation, whom he staunchly defended during conflicts with the New England religious leaders, and inspired by Williams’s teachings, he removed the cross of St George from the English flag as a sign of his disdain for all symbols of Romanism. He was deputy-governor from 1641 to 1644 and governor from 1644 to 1645. He also held the position of sergeant-major-general (commander-in-chief) of the militia and was one of the commissioners of the United Colonies of New England, serving as president in 1658. Following John Winthrop’s death in 1649, he became governor and was continuously re-elected until his death, except for two years (1650-1651 and 1654-1655) when he served as deputy-governor. During his leadership, the Massachusetts Bay Colony progressed rapidly, and apart from his religious intolerance—he was notably bigoted and harsh, especially towards the Quakers—his governance was just and commendable. Edward Eggleston described him as “A strange mixture of rashness, pious zeal, genial manners, hot temper, and harsh bigotry; his extravagances add a humorous touch to a very serious history—it’s perhaps the main thing posterity owes him.” He passed away on March 15, 1665.
See C.M. Endicott, Memoirs of John Endecott (Salem, 1847), and a “Memoir of John Endecott” in Antiquarian Papers of the American Antiquarian Society (Worcester, Mass., 1879).
See C.M. Endicott, Memoirs of John Endecott (Salem, 1847), and a “Memoir of John Endecott” in Antiquarian Papers of the American Antiquarian Society (Worcester, Mass., 1879).
A lineal descendant, William Crowninshield Endicott (1826-1900), graduated at Harvard in 1847, was a justice of the Massachusetts supreme court in 1873-1882, and was secretary of war in President Cleveland’s cabinet from 1885 to 1889. His daughter, Mary Crowninshield Endicott, was married to the English statesman Mr Joseph Chamberlain in 1888.
A direct descendant, William C. Endicott (1826-1900), graduated from Harvard in 1847, served as a justice of the Massachusetts Supreme Court from 1873 to 1882, and was Secretary of War in President Cleveland’s cabinet from 1885 to 1889. His daughter, Mary Crowninshield Endicott, married the English statesman Mr. Joseph Chamberlain in 1888.
ENDIVE, Cichorium Endivia, an annual esculent plant of the natural order Compositae, commonly reputed to have been introduced into Europe from the East Indies, but, according to some authorities, more probably indigenous to Egypt. It has been cultivated in England for more than three hundred years, and is mentioned by John Gerarde in his Herbal (1597). There are numerous varieties of the endive, forming two groups, namely, the curled or narrow-leaved (var. crispa), and the Batavian or broad-leaved (var. latifolia), the leaves of which are not curled. The former varieties are those most used for salads, the latter being grown chiefly for culinary purposes. The plant requires a light, rich and dry soil, in an unshaded situation. In the climate of England sowing for the main crop should begin about the second or third week in June; but for plants required to be used young it may be as early as the latter half of April, and for winter crops up to the middle of August. The seed should be finely spread in drills 4 in. asunder, and then lightly covered. After reaching an inch in height the young plants are thinned; and when about a month old they may be placed out at distances of 12 or 15 in., in drills 3 in. in depth, care being taken in removing them from the seed-bed to disturb their roots as little as possible. The Batavian require more room than the curled-leaved varieties. Transplantation, where early crops are required, has been found inadvisable. Rapidity of growth is promoted by the application of liquid manures. The bleaching of endive, in order to prevent the development of the natural bitter taste of the leaves, and to improve their appearance, is begun about three months after the sowing, and is best effected either by tying the outer leaves around the inner, or, as in damp seasons, by the use of the 383 bleaching-pot. The bleaching may be completed in ten days or so in summer, but in winter it takes three or four weeks. For late crops, protection from frost is requisite; and to secure fine winter endive, it has been recommended to take up the full-grown plants in November, and to place them under shelter, in a soil of moderately dry sand or of half-decayed peat earth. Where forcing-houses are employed, endive may be sown in January, so as to procure by the end of the following month plants ready for use.
ENDIVE, Cichorium Endivia is an annual edible plant from the Compositae family, often thought to have been brought to Europe from the East Indies, but some experts believe it is likely native to Egypt. It has been grown in England for over three hundred years and is mentioned by John Gerarde in his Herbal (1597). There are many varieties of endive, grouped into two types: the curled or narrow-leaved (var. crispa) and the Batavian or broad-leaved (var. latifolia), which has flat leaves. The curled varieties are mostly used in salads, while the broad-leaved ones are mainly grown for cooking. This plant prefers light, rich, and dry soil in a sunny spot. In England, the main crop should be sown around the second or third week of June; however, for young plants, you can start as early as late April, and for winter crops, you can plant up to mid-August. The seeds should be spread out in rows 4 inches apart and lightly covered. Once the seedlings are about an inch tall, thin them out; and when they're about a month old, transplant them to spaces of 12 or 15 inches apart in rows 3 inches deep, being careful to disturb their roots as little as possible during the move. The Batavian types need more space than the curled ones. Transplanting early crops is not recommended. To encourage quick growth, applying liquid fertilizers is beneficial. To bleach the endive, which helps reduce the natural bitterness of the leaves and enhances their appearance, start about three months after sowing, either by tying the outer leaves around the inner ones or, in wet seasons, using a 383 bleaching pot. Bleaching can take about ten days in summer, but in winter it may take three to four weeks. For late crops, you need to protect them from frost, and to ensure good winter endive, it's advised to lift the mature plants in November and store them in a sheltered area with moderately dry sand or partially decayed peat soil. If using greenhouses, you can sow endive in January to have plants ready for use by the end of February.
ENDOEUS, an early sculptor, who worked at Athens in the middle of the 6th century B.C. We are told that he made an image of Athena dedicated by Callias the contemporary of Pisistratus at Athens about 564 B.C. An inscription bearing his name has been found at Athens, written in Ionian dialect. The tradition which made him a pupil of Daedalus is apparently misleading, since Daedalus had no connexion with Ionic art.
ENDOEUS, was an early sculptor who worked in Athens in the mid-6th century B.C. It’s said that he created a statue of Athena, dedicated by Callias, a contemporary of Pisistratus, around 564 B.C. An inscription with his name has been discovered in Athens, written in the Ionian dialect. The belief that he was a student of Daedalus is likely incorrect, as Daedalus had no connection to Ionic art.
ENDOGAMY (Gr. ἔνδον, within, and γάμος, marriage), marriage within the tribe or community, the term adopted to express the custom compelling those of a tribe to marry among themselves. Endogamy was probably characteristic of the very early stages of social organization (see Family), and is to-day found only among races low in the scale of civilization. As a custom it is believed to have been preceded in most lands by the far more general rule of Exogamy (q.v.). Lord Avebury (Origin of Civilisation, p. 154) points out that “there is not the opposition between exogamy and endogamy which Mr McLennan supposed.” Some races which are endogamous as regards the tribe are exogamous as regards the gens. Thus the Abors, Kochs, Hos and other peoples of India, are forbidden to marry out of the tribe; but the tribe itself is divided into “keelis” or clans, and no man is allowed to take as wife a girl of his own “keeli”. Endogamy must have in most cases arisen from racial pride, and a contempt, either well or ill founded, for the surrounding peoples.
ENDOGAMY (Gr. inside, within, and wedding, marriage), is marriage within the tribe or community, a term used to describe the practice that requires members of a tribe to marry among themselves. Endogamy was likely common in the very early stages of social organization (see Family) and is now mostly observed among cultures that are less advanced in terms of civilization. It is believed that this custom was preceded in many regions by the much more widespread rule of Exogamy (q.v.). Lord Avebury (Origin of Civilisation, p. 154) notes that “there is not the opposition between exogamy and endogamy which Mr. McLennan supposed.” Some groups that practice endogamy within the tribe are exogamous concerning the gens. For instance, the Abors, Kochs, Hos, and other communities in India are not allowed to marry outside of their tribe; however, the tribe itself is divided into “keelis” or clans, and no man can marry a girl from his own “keeli.” Endogamy likely developed in most cases from a sense of racial pride and a disdain, whether justified or not, for neighboring peoples.
Among the Ahtena of Alaska, though the tribes are extremely militant and constantly at war, the captured women are never made wives, but are used as slaves. Endogamy also prevails among tribes of Central America. With the Yerkalas of southern India a custom prevails by which the first two daughters of a family may be claimed by the maternal uncle as wives for his sons. The value of a wife is fixed at twenty pagodas (a 16th-century Indian coin equivalent to about five shillings), and should the uncle forgo his claim he is entitled to share in the price paid for his nieces. Among some of the Karen tribes marriages between near relatives are usual. The Douignaks, a branch of the Chukmas, seem to have practised endogamy; and they “abandoned the parent stem during the chiefship of Janubrix Khan about 1782. The reason of this split was a disagreement on the subject of marriages. The chief passed an order that the Douignaks should intermarry with the tribe in general. This was contrary to an ancient custom and caused discontent and eventually a break in the tribe” (Lewin’s Hill Tracts of Chittagong, p. 65). This is interesting as being one of the few cases in which evidence of a change in this respect is available. The Kalangs of Java are endogamous, and every man must first prove his common descent before he can enter a family. The Manchu Tatars prohibit those who have the same family names from marrying. Among the Bedouins “a man has an exclusive right to the hand of his cousin.” Hottentots seldom marry out of their own kraal, and David Livingstone quotes other examples. Endogamy seems to have existed in the Sandwich Islands and in New Zealand. A community of Javans near Surabaya, on the Teugger Hills, numbering about 1200 persons, distributed in about forty villages, and still following the ancient Hindu religion, is endogamous. Good examples of what biologists call “in-and-in breeding” are to be found in various fishing villages in Great Britain, such as Itchinferry, near Southampton, Portland Island, Bentham in Yorkshire, Mousehole and Newlyn in Mountsbay, Cornwall, Boulmer near Alnwick (where almost all the inhabitants are called Stephenson, Stanton or Stewart), Burnmouth, Ross and (to some extent) Eyemouth in Berwickshire, Boyndie in Banffshire, Rathen in Aberdeenshire, Buckhaven in Fifeshire, Portmahomack and Balnabruach in Eastern Ross. In France may be mentioned the commune of Batz, near Le Broisic in Loire-Inférieur, many of the central cantons of Brétagne, and the singular society called Foréatines—supposed to be of Irish descent—living between St Arnaud and Bourges. Many other European examples might be mentioned, such as the Marans of Auvergne, a race of Spanish converted Jews accused of introducing syphilis into France; the Burins and Sermoyers, chiefly cattle-breeders, scattered over the department of Ain and especially in the arrondissement of Bourg-en-Bresse; the Vaquéros, shepherds in the Asturias Mountains; and the Jewish Chuetas of Majorca.
Among the Ahtena of Alaska, even though the tribes are very warlike and frequently in conflict, captured women are never turned into wives but are instead used as slaves. Endogamy is also common among tribes in Central America. With the Yerkalas of southern India, there’s a tradition where the first two daughters of a family can be claimed as wives by their maternal uncle for his sons. The worth of a wife is set at twenty pagodas (a 16th-century Indian coin worth about five shillings), and if the uncle gives up his claim, he can still share in the payment made for his nieces. In some Karen tribes, marriages between close relatives are normal. The Douignaks, a subgroup of the Chukmas, appear to have practiced endogamy; they “separated from the parent group during the leadership of Janubrix Khan around 1782. This split happened due to a disagreement regarding marriage. The chief decided that the Douignaks should intermarry with the rest of the tribe. This went against an old custom and led to discontent and ultimately a division in the tribe” (Lewin’s Hill Tracts of Chittagong, p. 65). This is notable as it's one of the few documented changes regarding this topic. The Kalangs of Java practice endogamy, and every man must first demonstrate his common ancestry before he can join a family. The Manchu Tatars prohibit individuals with the same family name from marrying. Among the Bedouins, "a man has exclusive rights to marry his cousin." Hottentots rarely marry outside their own kraal, and David Livingstone cites more examples. Endogamy appears to have been practiced in the Sandwich Islands and New Zealand. A Javanese community near Surabaya, on the Teugger Hills, consisting of about 1200 people living in around forty villages and still following the ancient Hindu religion, is endogamous. Good examples of what biologists refer to as “in-and-in breeding” can be found in various fishing villages in Great Britain, such as Itchinferry near Southampton, Portland Island, Bentham in Yorkshire, Mousehole and Newlyn in Mountsbay, Cornwall, Boulmer near Alnwick (where almost all the residents have the last names Stephenson, Stanton, or Stewart), Burnmouth, Ross, and (to some extent) Eyemouth in Berwickshire, Boyndie in Banffshire, Rathen in Aberdeenshire, Buckhaven in Fifeshire, Portmahomack and Balnabruach in Eastern Ross. In France, the commune of Batz, near Le Broisic in Loire-Inférieur, many central cantons of Brétagne, and the unique community known as Foréatines—thought to be of Irish descent—living between St Arnaud and Bourges may be mentioned. There are many other European examples worth noting, like the Marans of Auvergne, a group of Spanish converted Jews accused of bringing syphilis to France; the Burins and Sermoyers, mainly cattle breeders scattered around the Ain department, especially in the Bourg-en-Bresse area; the Vaquéros, shepherds in the Asturias Mountains; and the Jewish Chuetas of Majorca.
See Gilbert Malcolm Sproat’s Scenes and Studies of Savage Life; Westermarck’s History of Human Marriage (1894); Lord Avebury’s Origin of Civilisation (1902); J.F. McLennan’s Primitive Marriage (1865).
See Gilbert Malcolm Sproat’s Scenes and Studies of Savage Life; Westermarck’s History of Human Marriage (1894); Lord Avebury’s Origin of Civilisation (1902); J.F. McLennan’s Primitive Marriage (1865).
ENDOR, an ancient town of Palestine, chiefly memorable as the abode of the sorceress whom Saul consulted on the eve of the battle of Gilboa, in which he perished (1 Sam. xxviii. 5-25). According to a psalmist (Ps. lxxxiii. 9) it was the scene of the rout of Jabin and Sisera. Although situated in the territory of the tribe of Issachar, it was assigned to Manasseh. In the time of Eusebius and Jerome Endor existed as a large village 5 m. south of Mount Tabor; there is still a poor village of the same name on the slope of Jebel Daḥi, near which are numerous caves.
ENDOR, an ancient town in Palestine, is mainly remembered as the home of the sorceress whom Saul consulted before the battle of Gilboa, where he died (1 Sam. xxviii. 5-25). According to a psalmist (Ps. lxxxiii. 9), it was the site of the defeat of Jabin and Sisera. Although it was located in the territory of the tribe of Issachar, it was allocated to Manasseh. In the time of Eusebius and Jerome, Endor was a large village 5 miles south of Mount Tabor; there is still a small village of the same name on the slope of Jebel Daḥi, near which there are many caves.
For a description of the locality see Stanley, Sinai and Palestine, p. 337.
For a description of the area, see Stanley, Sinai and Palestine, p. 337.
ENDOSPORA, a natural group or class of the Sporozoa, consisting of the orders Myxosporidia, Actinomyxidia, Sarcosporidia and Haplosporidia, together with various insufficiently-known forms (Sero- and Exosporidia), regarded at present as Sporozoa incertae sedis. The distinguishing feature of the group is that the spore-mother-cells (pansporoblasts) arise in the interior of the body of the parent-individual; in other words, sporulation is endogenous. Another very general character—though not so universal—is that the adult trophozoite possesses more than one nucleus, usually many (i.e. it is multinucleate). In the majority of forms, though apparently not in all (e.g. certain Microsporidia), sporulation goes on coincidently with growth and trophic life. With regard to the origin of the group, the probability is greatly in favour of a Rhizopod ancestry. The entire absence, at any known period, of a flagellate or even gregariniform phase; on the other hand, the amoeboid nature of the trophozoites in very many cases together with the formation of pseudopodia; and, lastly, the simple endogenous spore-formation characteristic of the primitive forms,—are all points which support this view, and exclude any hypothesis of a Flagellate origin, such as, on the contrary, is probably the case in the Ectospora (q.v.).
ENDOSPORA, is a natural group or class of Sporozoa, which includes the orders Myxosporidia, Actinomyxidia, Sarcosporidia, and Haplosporidia, along with various poorly understood forms (Sero- and Exosporidia), currently considered Sporozoa incertae sedis. The defining characteristic of this group is that the spore-mother-cells (pansporoblasts) develop inside the body of the parent organism; in other words, sporulation happens internally. Another common feature—though not universal—is that the adult trophozoite has more than one nucleus, usually many (i.e. it is multinucleate). In most forms, although not all (e.g. certain Microsporidia), sporulation occurs simultaneously with growth and the trophic life. Regarding the origins of the group, there is a strong likelihood of Rhizopod ancestry. The complete absence, at any known stage, of a flagellate or even gregariniform phase; on the other hand, the amoeboid nature of the trophozoites in many cases along with the formation of pseudopodia; and lastly, the simple internal spore-formation typical of primitive forms—all of these points support this perspective and rule out any hypothesis of a Flagellate origin, which is more likely the case in the Ectospora (q.v.).
1. Order Myxosporidia. The Myxosporidia, or, more correctly, the dense masses formed by their spores, were well known to the earlier zoological observers. The parasites in fishes were called by Müller “fish-psorosperms,” a name which has stuck to them ever since, although, as is evident from the meaning of the term (“mange-seed”), Müller had little idea of the true nature of the bodies. Other examples, infesting silkworms, have also long been known as “Pèbrine-corpuscles,” from the ravaging disease which they produce in those caterpillars in France, in connexion with which Pasteur did such valuable work. The foundation of our present morphological and biological knowledge of the order was well laid by the admirable researches of Thèlohan in 1895. In spite, however, of the contributions of numerous workers since then (e.g. Doflein, Cohn, Stempell and others), there are still one or two very important points, such as the occurrence of sexual conjugation, upon which light is required.
1. Order Myxosporidia. The Myxosporidia, or more accurately, the dense clusters formed by their spores, were familiar to early zoologists. Müller referred to the parasites in fish as “fish-psorosperms,” a name that has persisted, although it’s clear from the term’s meaning (“mange-seed”) that Müller didn't fully understand what these organisms really were. Other examples that infect silkworms have also been known as “Pèbrine-corpuscles,” named after the destructive disease they cause in those caterpillars in France, which Pasteur studied extensively. The groundwork for our current understanding of the morphology and biology of this order was significantly established by Thèlohan’s excellent research in 1895. However, despite the efforts of many researchers since then (e.g., Doflein, Cohn, Stempell, and others), there are still one or two crucial issues, like the process of sexual conjugation, that need further investigation.
Although pre-eminently parasites of fishes, Myxosporidia also occur, in a few cases, in other Vertebrates (frogs and reptiles); no instance of their presence in a warm-blooded Vertebrate has, however, yet been described. One Occurrence and habitat. suborder (the Microsporidia or Cryptocystes) is pretty equally distributed between fishes on the one hand and Invertebrates—chiefly, but not exclusively, Arthropods—on the other. The parasites are frequently the cause of severe and fatal illness in their hosts, and devastating epidemics of 384 myxosporidiosis have often been reported (e.g. among carp and barbel in continental rivers, due to a Myxobolus, and among crayfish in France, to Thelohania).
Although primarily parasites of fish, Myxosporidia have also been found in a few other vertebrates, such as frogs and reptiles; however, there hasn't been any reported case of them in warm-blooded vertebrates. One Occurrence and habitat. suborder (the Microsporidia or Cryptocystes) is fairly evenly distributed between fish on one side and invertebrates—mainly, but not exclusively, arthropods—on the other. These parasites often cause severe and fatal illnesses in their hosts, and devastating outbreaks of 384 myxosporidiosis have frequently been reported (e.g., among carp and barbel in continental rivers, caused by a Myxobolus, and among crayfish in France, caused by Thelohania).
The seat of the invasion and the mode of parasitism are extremely varied. Practically any organ or tissue may be attacked, excepting, apparently, the testis and cartilage and bone. In one instance at least (that of Nosema bombycis of the silkworm) the parasites penetrate into the ova, so that true hereditary infection occurs, the progeny being born with the disease. The parasites may be either free in some lumen, such as that of the gall bladder or urinary bladder (not of the alimentary canal, or the body-cavity itself), when they are known as coelozoic forms; or in intimate relation with some tissue, intracellular while young but becoming intercellular in the adult phase (histozoic forms); or entirely intracellular (cytozoic forms). Among the histozoic and cytozoic types, moreover, two well-defined conditions, concentration and diffuse infiltration, occur. In the former, the parasitic zone is strictly limited, and well-marked cysts are formed; in the latter, the infection spreads throughout the neighbouring tissue, and the parasitic development becomes inextricably commingled with the host’s cells. Sometimes, as shown by Woodcock (45), there may be an attempt on the part of the host’s tissue to circumscribe and check the growth of these parasitic areas, which results in the formation of pseudocysts, quite different in character from true cysts.
The location of the invasion and the way parasites live off their hosts are highly varied. Almost any organ or tissue can be affected, except for the testis, cartilage, and bone. In at least one case (specifically with Nosema bombycis in silkworms), parasites can penetrate the eggs, leading to true hereditary infection, so that the offspring are born with the disease. The parasites can be either free in a cavity, like the gall bladder or urinary bladder (but not in the digestive tract or body cavity), which are called coelozoic forms; or they can be closely associated with some tissue, being intracellular when young but becoming intercellular in the adult phase (known as histozoic forms); or they can be entirely intracellular (cytozoic forms). Among the histozoic and cytozoic types, there are also two distinct conditions: concentration and diffuse infiltration. In the concentration condition, the parasitic zone is tightly limited, and distinct cysts form; in the diffuse infiltration condition, the infection spreads throughout the surrounding tissue, and the parasitic development becomes deeply mixed with the host's cells. Sometimes, as Woodcock (45) noted, the host's tissue may attempt to surround and limit the growth of these parasitic areas, resulting in the formation of pseudocysts, which are quite different from true cysts.
![]() |
![]() |
From Lankester’s Treatise on Zoology, vol. Protozoa, from Wasielewski, after Thélohan. | From Lankester’s Treatise on Zoology, vol. Protozoa. |
Fig. 1.—Transverse section of a stickle-back (Gasterosteus aculeatus), showing two cysts of Glugea anomala, Moniez (kk), in the body musculature on the right side. | Fig. 2.—Portion of a section
through a muscle fibre of Cottus
scorpius invaded by Pleistophora
typicalis, Gurley. m, f, Muscle fibrils, retaining their striation. myx, Cysts of the parasite, lying between the fibrils. |
The most noticeable feature about the Myxosporidian trophozoite is its amoeboid and Rhizopod-like character. Pseudopodia of various kinds, from long slender ones (fig. 3, B) to short blunt lobose ones, are of general occurrence, being most easily observed, of Morphology. course, in the free-living forms. The pseudopodia serve chiefly for movement and attachment, and never, it should be noted, for the injection of solid food-particles, as in the case of Amoebae. The general protoplasm is divisible into ectoplasm and endoplasm. The former is a clear, finely-granular layer, of which the pseudopodia are mainly constituted (fig. 3, A). In one or two instances (e.g. Myxidium lieberkühnii) the ectoplasm shows a vertical striation, and in the older trophozoites breaks down partially, appearing like a fur of delicate, non-motile filaments. A somewhat similar modification is found in Myxocystis. The endoplasm is more fluid, and contains numerous inclusions of a granular nature, as well as vacuoles of varying size. In the endoplasm are lodged the nuclei, of which in an adult trophozoite there may be very many; they are all derived by multiplication from the single nucleus with which the young individuals begin life, the number increasing as growth proceeds.
The most noticeable feature of the Myxosporidian trophozoite is its amoeboid and Rhizopod-like nature. Pseudopodia of various types, ranging from long, slender ones (fig. 3, B) to short, blunt lobose ones, are commonly found and are easiest to observe in free-living forms. These pseudopodia are mainly used for movement and attachment, and it’s important to note that they are never used for taking in solid food particles, unlike in the case of Amoebae. The overall protoplasm is divided into ectoplasm and endoplasm. The ectoplasm is a clear, finely-granular layer, which primarily makes up the pseudopodia (fig. 3, A). In one or two cases (e.g. Myxidium lieberkühnii), the ectoplasm shows a vertical striation, and in older trophozoites, it partially breaks down, looking like a fur of delicate, non-motile filaments. A somewhat similar change is observed in Myxocystis. The endoplasm is more fluid and contains numerous granular inclusions, as well as vacuoles of varying sizes. The nuclei are located in the endoplasm, and in an adult trophozoite, there can be quite a few; they all come from the multiplication of the single nucleus with which the young individuals start their lives, with the number increasing as they grow.
![]() |
![]() |
From Wasielewski, Sporozoenkunde. From Wasielewski, Sporozoenkunde. Fig. 3.—A. Trophozoite of Sphaerospora divergens, Thél. (par. Blennius and Crenilabrus),
× 750. ec, Ectoplasm; en, endoplasm; sp, spores, each with four pole capsules. Fig. 3.—A. Trophozoite of Sphaerospora divergens, Thél. (from Blennius and Crenilabrus), × 750. ec, Ectoplasm; en, endoplasm; sp, spores, each with four pole capsules. From Lankester’s Treatise on Zoology, vol. Protozoa. From Lankester’s Treatise on Zoology, vol. Protozoa. B. Spore-bearing trophozoite of Leptotheca agilis, Thél. (par. Trygon and Scorpaena), × 750. ps, Pseudopodia localized at the anterior end; f.gr, fatty granules similarly localized; r.gr, refringent granules; sp, spores, two in number. B. Spore-bearing trophozoite of Leptotheca agilis, Thél. (par. Trygon and Scorpaena), × 750. ps, Pseudopodia located at the front end; f.gr, fatty granules also located there; r.gr, refringent granules; sp, two spores. |
Spore-formation goes on entirely in the endoplasm. The number of spores formed is very variable. It may be as low as two (as in free-living forms, e.g. Leptotheca), in which case a large amount of trophic protoplasm is unconverted Spore-formation; multiplicative processes. into spores; or, on the other hand, the number of spores may be very great (as in tissue-parasites), practically the whole of the parent-body being thus used up. The sporont may or may not encyst at the commencement of sporulation. In the free-living forms there is no cyst-membrane secreted; but in certain Glugeidae, on the other hand, the ectoplasm becomes altered into a firm, enclosing layer, the ectorind, which forms a thick cyst-wall (fig. 5). The process of sporulation begins by the segregation of small quantities of endoplasm around certain of the nuclei, to form little, rounded bodies, the pansporoblasts. There may be either very many or only few pansporoblasts developed; in some cases, indeed, there is only one, the sporont either itself becoming a pansporoblast (certain Microsporidia), or giving rise to a solitary one (Ceratomyxidae). The pansporoblast constituted, nuclear multiplication goes on preparatory to the formation of sporoblasts, which in their turn become spores (see figs. 4 and 5). Not all the nuclei thus formed, however, are made use of. In the Phaenocystes there are always two sporoblasts developed in each pansporoblast; in the Cryptocystes there may be from one to several. Around each sporoblast a spore-membrane is secreted, which usually has the form of two valves. It has recently been shown by Léger and Hesse (29b) that, in many Phaenocystes at any rate, each of these valves is formed by a definite nucleated portion of the sporoblast.
Spore formation happens entirely in the endoplasm. The number of spores produced can vary widely. It can be as few as two (as seen in free-living forms, e.g. Leptotheca), leaving a significant amount of trophic protoplasm unturned into spores; or it may be very high (as in tissue-parasites), with nearly the entire parent body being consumed. The sporont may or may not encyst at the start of sporulation. In free-living forms, no cyst membrane is secreted; however, in some Glugeidae, the ectoplasm transforms into a firm, enclosing layer called the ectorind, creating a thick cyst wall (fig. 5). The process of sporulation begins when small amounts of endoplasm gather around specific nuclei to form little, rounded bodies known as pansporoblasts. There can be either a lot or just a few pansporoblasts formed; in some instances, there may be only one, with the sporont either becoming a pansporoblast itself (as in certain Microsporidia) or producing a solitary one (as in Ceratomyxidae). Once the pansporoblast is established, nuclear multiplication occurs in preparation for forming sporoblasts, which then evolve into spores (see figs. 4 and 5). However, not all the nuclei formed are used. In Phaenocystes, there are always two sporoblasts developed within each pansporoblast; in Cryptocystes, there can be one or several. Around each sporoblast, a spore membrane is secreted, typically shaped like two valves. Recent studies by Léger and Hesse (29b) have shown that, at least in many Phaenocystes, each of these valves is created by a specific nucleated portion of the sporoblast.
The spores themselves vary greatly in size and shape (figs. 7 and 8). They may be as small as 1.5 μ by 1 μ (as in a species of Nosema), or as large as 100 μ by 12 μ (as in Ceratomyxa). A conspicuous feature in the structure of a fully-developed spore is the polar-capsules, of which there may be either 1, 2, or 4 to each. In the 385 Phaenocystes the polar-capsules are visible in the fresh condition, but not in the Cryptocystes. The polar-capsule is an organella which recalls the nematocyst of a Hydrozoan, containing a spirally-coiled filament, often of great length, which is shot out on the application of a suitable stimulus. Normally, as was ingeniously shown by Thélohan (43), the digestive juices of the fresh host serve this purpose, but various artificial means may suffice. The function of the everted filament is probably to secure the attachment of the spore to the epithelium of the new host. In the Phaenocystes, in connexion with each polar-capsule, a small nuclear body can be generally made out; these two little nuclei are those of the two “capsulogenous” areas of the protoplasm of the pansporoblast, which formed the capsules. The sporoplasm, representing the sporozoite, is always single. Nevertheless, in the Phaenocystes it is invariably binuclear; and, in the Microsporidia, the nucleus, at first single, gives rise later to four nuclei, two of which are regarded by Stempell (42) as corresponding to those of two polar-capsules (of which only one is developed in the spore), the remaining two representing germ-nuclei. Hence it is possible that the Myxosporidian sporoplasm really consists of two, incompletely-divided (sister) germs. Moreover, it is supposed by some that these two nuclei fuse together later, this act representing a sexual conjugation; since the earliest known phases of young trophozoites (amoebulae) have been described as uninuclear.
The spores themselves come in a wide range of sizes and shapes (figs. 7 and 8). They can be as small as 1.5 μ by 1 μ (like in a species of Nosema) or as large as 100 μ by 12 μ (like in Ceratomyxa). A notable feature of a fully-developed spore is the polar capsules, with either 1, 2, or 4 present for each spore. In 385 Phaenocystes, the polar capsules are visible in their fresh state, but they're not visible in Cryptocystes. The polar capsule is an organelle that resembles the nematocyst of a Hydrozoan, containing a spirally-coiled filament, often quite long, which is expelled when a suitable stimulus is applied. Typically, as cleverly shown by Thélohan (43), the digestive juices of the living host trigger this action, but various artificial methods can also work. The purpose of the everted filament is likely to help the spore attach to the epithelium of the new host. In Phaenocystes, near each polar capsule, a small nuclear body is usually visible; these two little nuclei are from the two “capsulogenous” areas of the pansporoblast's protoplasm that formed the capsules. The sporoplasm, which represents the sporozoite, is always single. However, in Phaenocystes, it is always binuclear, and in Microsporidia, the nucleus starts as single and eventually develops into four nuclei, two of which Stempell (42) considers to correspond to two polar capsules (of which only one develops in the spore), while the other two are believed to be germ nuclei. So, it's possible that the Myxosporidian sporoplasm actually consists of two incompletely divided (sister) germs. Additionally, some believe these two nuclei fuse later, representing a form of sexual conjugation, since the earliest known stages of young trophozoites (amoebulae) have been noted as uninuclear.
![]() | |
From Lankester’s Treatise on Zoology, vol. Protozoa, after Thélohan. | |
Fig. 4.—Stages in spore-formation. All the figures are from Myxobolus
ellipsoides, except a and f, which are from M. pfeifferi. | |
a, Differentiation of the pansporoblast (p.sp). a, Differentiation of the pansporoblast (p.sp). b, Pansporoblast with two nuclei. Pansporoblast with two nuclei. c and d, Pansporoblasts with six and ten nuclei respectively; in d, four of the nuclei are degenerating. c and d, Pansporoblasts with six and ten nuclei respectively; in d, four of the nuclei are degenerating. e, Pansporoblast segmented into two definitive sporoblasts, each with three nuclei. In the next four figures the definitive sporoblast, or the spore produced from it, is alone figured. e, Pansporoblast split into two clear sporoblasts, each containing three nuclei. In the next four figures, the definitive sporoblast, or the spore created from it, is illustrated on its own. f, Definitive sporoblast segmented into three masses, the capsulogenous cells (c.g.c) and the sporoplasm (sp.p), within an envelope, the spore membrane (sp.m). f, Definitive sporoblast divided into three parts, the capsulogenous cells (c.g.c) and the sporoplasm (sp.p), inside an envelope, the spore membrane (sp.m). |
g, More advanced stage. More advanced level. h, Spore completely developed, with two polar capsules and sporoplasm containing an iodinophilous vacuole. h, Spore fully developed, with two polar capsules and sporoplasm that includes an iodinophilous vacuole. i, Abnormal spore containing six polar capsules. i, Abnormal spore with six polar capsules. n, Nuclei. Nuclei. sp.bl, Definitive sporoblast. Definitive sporoblast. r.n, Residuary nuclei. Residuary nuclei. vac, Vacuole. vac, Vacuole. r.p.c, Rudiment of p.c, polar capsule. r.p.c, Rudiment of p.c, polar capsule. n.p.c, Nuclei of polar capsules. Nuclei of polar capsules. iod.vac, Iodinophilous vacuole. iod.vac, Iodinophilous vacuole. n.sp, Nuclei of sporoplasm. Nuclei of sporoplasm. |
![]() | |
From Woodcock, Proc. and Trans. of the Liverpool Biological Society, 1904. | |
Fig. 5.—Part of the periphery of a cyst of Glugea stephani, in the
intestinal wall of the plaice, showing sporoblast and spore-formation. | |
ect, Ectorind. ect, Ectorind. end, Endoplasm. end, Endoplasm. endoth, Fold of the mucous membrane, normal in character. endoth, Fold of the mucous membrane, typical in nature. |
p.sp.bl, Various stages in the development of the pansporoblasts. p.sp.bl, Different stages in the development of the pansporoblasts. sp, Ripe spores, filling the greater part of the cyst. sp, Mature spores, occupying most of the cyst. n, Large (vegetative) nuclei. Large (vegetative) nuclei. |
![]() |
From Lankester’s Treatise on Zoology, vol. Protozoa. |
Fig. 6.—Formation of buds by multiple plasmotomy in Myxidium lieberkühnii, Bütschli (par. Esox and Lota) after Cohn. |
b, Buds. b, Buds. end, Endoplasm; the clear outer portion represents the ectoplasm. end, Endoplasm; the clear outer part represents the ectoplasm. |
In addition to spore-formation, two or three modes of endogenous reproduction, serving for auto-infection, have been made known. One, termed by Doflein plasmotomy, consists either in the division of the (multinucleate) trophozoite into two, by more or less equal fission (simple plasmotomy), or in the budding-off, from the parent trophozoite, of several portions (example: Myxidium lieberkühnii, fig. 6). A variety of this method has been described by Stempell (40) in the case of the young trophozoites (meronts) of Thelohania mülleri, which may divide into two while still uninuclear; and by rapid successive divisions chains of meronts may be formed, the different individuals being incompletely separated. Another method, which is probably chiefly responsible for the rapid spread of tissue-parasites and cell-parasites (such as Myxobolidae and Glugeidae) through their host’s tissue in the condition of diffuse infiltration, consists in multiple nuclear division, and the liberation of amoebulae while the parasite is yet quite young and possesses only few nuclei. As Woodcock has pointed out in considering the case of Glugea stephani, it is very probable that this “multiplicative reproduction,” in diffuse infiltration, is to be looked upon as a separation of the pansporoblast-rudiments as daughter-individuals; i.e. that the pansporoblasts are, in certain circumstances, capable of independent existence as little sporonts. A further stage in this direction of evolution is seen, according to Stempell, in Thelohania, Pleistophora and other types where the whole individual becomes one reproductive organella; such forms are to be considered as examples of a phylogenetic individualization of the pansporoblasts, which now exist as solitary sporonts. An extreme case of this “reduction of the individual” is found, apparently in the genus Nosema, as lately characterized by Perez (34), where vast numbers of minute entirely independent sporonts (pansporoblasts) are produced, each of which gives rise to only a single spore.
In addition to forming spores, there are two or three ways of internal reproduction that allow for auto-infection. One method, called plasmotomy by Doflein, involves either splitting the (multinucleate) trophozoite into two through nearly equal fission (simple plasmotomy) or budding off several portions from the parent trophozoite (for example, Myxidium lieberkühnii, fig. 6). Stempell (40) described a variation of this method in which young trophozoites (meronts) of Thelohania mülleri may divide into two even when they still have just one nucleus; through rapid successive divisions, chains of meronts can form, with the different individuals only partially separated. Another method, likely key to the rapid spread of tissue-parasites and cell-parasites (like Myxobolidae and Glugeidae) in their host’s tissue as diffuse infiltration, involves multiple nuclear divisions and the release of amoebulae while the parasite is still quite young and has only a few nuclei. As Woodcock noted regarding Glugea stephani, it is highly probable that this “multiplicative reproduction” during diffuse infiltration represents a separation of pansporoblast-rudiments as daughter individuals; essentially, the pansporoblasts can, under certain circumstances, exist independently as small sporonts. A further stage in this evolutionary direction is seen in Thelohania, Pleistophora, and other types where the entire individual becomes one reproductive organelle; such forms demonstrate a phylogenetic individualization of the pansporoblasts, which now exist as solitary sporonts. An extreme example of this “reduction of the individual” is found in the genus Nosema, as recently characterized by Perez (34), where large numbers of tiny, completely independent sporonts (pansporoblasts) are produced, each of which generates only a single spore.
The Myxosporidia are divided into two suborders, the Phaenocystes and the Cryptocystes. Some authors have of late years separated these two divisions and raised each to the rank of a distinct order, considering that they are not more closely related to each other than to other Endosporan orders. We think this is a mistake; and it is very interesting to find that Léger and Hesse (1908) have described (29a) a new genus of Phaenocystes, Coccomyxa, which represents a type intermediate between these two suborders, and shows that they are closely connected.
The Myxosporidia are split into two suborders, the Phaenocystes and the Cryptocystes. Recently, some authors have separated these two divisions and promoted each to the status of a distinct order, suggesting they're not more closely related to each other than to other Endosporan orders. We believe this is a mistake; it's quite fascinating that Léger and Hesse (1908) have described (29a) a new genus of Phaenocystes, Coccomyxa, which represents an intermediate type between the two suborders and demonstrates their close connection.
Suborder 1: Phaenocystes, Gurley. Spores relatively large, with generally two or four polar-capsules, visible in the fresh Classification. condition. There are nearly always two spores formed in each pansporoblast.
Suborder 1: Phaenocystes, Gurley. Spores are relatively large, usually having two or four polar capsules that are visible in a fresh Categorization. condition. There are almost always two spores produced in each pansporoblast.
Section (a): Disporea. Only two spores (i.e. one pansporoblast) produced in each individual trophozoite. The greatest length of the spore is at right angles to the plane of the suture.
Section (a): Disporea. Each individual trophozoite produces only two spores (i.e. one pansporoblast). The longest part of the spore is perpendicular to the suture line.
One family, Ceratomyxidae, including two genera, Ceratomyxa (fig. 3, B) and Leptotheca, typically “free” parasites, mostly from the gall bladders of fishes. The valves of the spore in the former genus are prolonged into hollow cones. The type-species of this genus is C. sphaerulosa, from Mustelus and Galeus; that of Leptotheca is L. agilis, from Trygon.
One family, Ceratomyxidae, includes two genera, Ceratomyxa (fig. 3, B) and Leptotheca, which are usually “free” parasites, mainly found in the gall bladders of fish. The spores in the former genus have valves that extend into hollow cones. The type species of this genus is C. sphaerulosa, from Mustelus and Galeus; the type species of Leptotheca is L. agilis, from Trygon.
Section (b): Polysporea. More than two spores, generally very many, are produced typically by each individual trophozoite. The greatest length of the spore is usually in the sutural plane.
Section (b): Polysporea. Each individual trophozoite typically produces more than two spores, often a large number. The longest length of the spore is usually found in the sutural plane.
Family, Myxidiidae. Spores with two polar-capsules, and without an iodinophilous vacuole in the sporoplasm. Mostly “free” 386 parasites. Gen. Sphaerospora. Four or five species are known, from the kidneys or gall bladder of fishes (fig. 3, A). One, S. elegans, is interesting in that it affords a transition between the two sections, being disporous. Gen. Myxidium; spores elongated and fusiform, with a polar capsule at each extremity. The best-known species is M. lieberkühnii, from the urinary bladder of the pike. One or two species occur in reptiles. Other genera are Sphaeromyxa, Cystodiscus, Myxosoma and Myxoproteus.
Family, Myxidiidae. Spores have two polar capsules and lack an iodinophilous vacuole in the sporoplasm. Mostly “free” 386 parasites. Gen. Sphaerospora. Four or five species are known, originating from the kidneys or gall bladder of fish (fig. 3, A). One, S. elegans, is noteworthy because it serves as a transition between the two sections, being disporous. Gen. Myxidium; spores are elongated and fusiform, with a polar capsule at each end. The most recognized species is M. lieberkühnii, found in the urinary bladder of the pike. One or two species are found in reptiles. Other genera include Sphaeromyxa, Cystodiscus, Myxosoma, and Myxoproteus.
Family, Chloromyxidae. Spores with four polar capsules and no iodinophilous vacuole. One genus, Chloromyxum, of which several species are known; the type being C. leydigi, from the gall bladder of various Elasmobranchs (fig. 7, B).
Family, Chloromyxidae. Spores have four polar capsules and lack an iodinophilous vacuole. There is one genus, Chloromyxum, with several known species; the type species is C. leydigi, found in the gall bladder of various Elasmobranchs (fig. 7, B).
![]() | |
Fig. 7.—A. Spore of Ceratomyxa sphaerulosa, Thél. (par. Mustelus
and Galeus), × 750, after Thélohan. sp.p, Sporoplasm; p.c, polar
capsules; s, suture; x, “irregular, pale masses, of undetermined
origin.” | |
From Lankester’s Treatise on Zoology, vol. Protozoa. | |
B. Spores of Chloromyxidae, after Thélohan. a, Chloromyxum
leydigi, Ming., seen from the sutural aspect, × 2250; b, C. caudatum,
Thél., × 1900. p.c, Polar capsules; s, suture; f, filaments; p.s,
tail-like process of the spore envelope. | |
From Wasielewski’s Sporozoenkunde. | |
C. Spores of Myxobolus ellipsoides, Thél. The spores on the left
and right are lying with the sutural plane horizontal, that in the
middle with the sutural plane vertical. |
Family, Myxobolidae. Spores with two polar-capsules (exceptionally one), and with a characteristic iodinophilous vacuole in the sporoplasm. Typically tissue parasites of Teleosteans, often very dangerous. Genus Myxobolus. Spores oval or rounded, without a tail-like process. Very many species are known, which are grouped into three subsections: (a) forms with only one polar-capsule, such as M. piriformis, of the tench; (b) forms with two unequal capsules, e.g. M. dispar from Cyprinus and Leuciscus; and (c) the great majority of species with two equal polar-capsules, including M. mülleri, the type-species, from different fish, M. cyprini and M. pfeifferi, the cause of deadly disease in carp and barbel respectively and others. Other genera are Henneguya and Hoferellus, differing from Myxobolus in having, respectively, one or two tail-like processes to the spore. Lentospora, according to Plehn (37), lacks an iodinophilous vacuole.
Family, Myxobolidae. Spores with two polar capsules (sometimes just one), and a unique iodinophilous vacuole in the sporoplasm. They are typically tissue parasites of teleost fish and can often be very harmful. Genus Myxobolus. Spores are oval or rounded, without a tail-like feature. Many species are known, grouped into three subsections: (a) forms with only one polar capsule, like M. piriformis from the tench; (b) forms with two unequal capsules, e.g. M. dispar from Cyprinus and Leuciscus; and (c) the majority of species with two equal polar capsules, including M. mülleri, the type species, from various fish, M. cyprini, and M. pfeifferi, which cause deadly diseases in carp and barbel, respectively, among others. Other genera include Henneguya and Hoferellus, which differ from Myxobolus by having one or two tail-like processes on the spore. Lentospora, according to Plehn (37), does not have an iodinophilous vacuole.
Family Coccomyxidae. The pansporoblasts produce (probably) only one spore. Spore oval, large (14 μ by 5.5 μ), with a single very large polar-capsule. Sporoplasm with no vacuole. Single genus Coccomyxa, with the characters of the family. One species, C. morovi, Léger and Hesse, from the gall bladder of the sardine. The spore greatly resembles a Cryptocystid spore.
Family Coccomyxidae. The pansporoblasts likely produce just one spore. The spore is oval, large (14 μ by 5.5 μ), with a single very large polar capsule. The sporoplasm has no vacuole. There is one genus, Coccomyxa, which has the characteristics of the family. There is one species, C. morovi, identified by Léger and Hesse, found in the gall bladder of the sardine. The spore closely resembles a Cryptocystid spore.
Suborder 2: Cryptocystes, Gurley (= Microsporidia, Balbiani). Spores minute, usually pear-shaped, with only one polar-capsule, which is visible only after treatment with reagents. The number of spores formed in each pansporoblast varies greatly in different forms.
Suborder 2: Cryptocystes, Gurley (= Microsporidia, Balbiani). Spores are tiny, usually pear-shaped, with just one polar capsule that's only visible after being treated with reagents. The number of spores produced in each pansporoblast varies significantly among different species.
Section (a): Polysporogenea. The trophozoite produces numerous pansporoblasts, each of which gives rise to many spores. Genus Glugea, with numerous species, of which the best-known is G. anomala, from the stickleback (fig. 1). The genus Myxocystis, which has been shown by Hesse (24) to be a true Microsporidian, is placed by Perez in this section, but this is a little premature, as Hesse does not describe the exact character of the sporulation, i.e. with regard to the number of pansporoblasts and the spores they produce.
Section (a): Polysporogenea. The trophozoite produces many pansporoblasts, each of which generates numerous spores. The genus Glugea includes various species, with the most well-known being G. anomala, found in the stickleback (fig. 1). The genus Myxocystis, which Hesse (24) has identified as a true Microsporidian, is categorized in this section by Perez, but this is a bit premature since Hesse does not detail the exact characteristics of the sporulation, i.e. regarding the number of pansporoblasts and the spores they produce.
Section (b): Oligosporogenea. The trophozoite becomes itself the (single) pansporoblast. In Pleistophora, the pansporoblast produces many spores; P. typicalis, from the muscles of various fishes (fig. 2), is the type-species. In Thelohania, eight spores are formed; the different species are parasitic in Crustacea. In Gurleya, parasitic in Daphnia, only four are formed; and, lastly, in Nosema (exs. N. pulvis, from Carcinus, and, most likely, N. bombycis, of the silkworm), each pansporoblast produces only a single spore.
Section (b): Oligosporogenea. The trophozoite itself becomes the (single) pansporoblast. In Pleistophora, the pansporoblast generates multiple spores; P. typicalis, found in the muscles of various fish (fig. 2), is the type species. In Thelohania, eight spores are produced; the various species are parasitic in Crustacea. In Gurleya, which is parasitic in Daphnia, only four spores are formed; and finally, in Nosema (e.g., N. pulvis, from Carcinus, and likely N. bombycis, from the silkworm), each pansporoblast produces just a single spore.
![]() |
From Lankester’s Treatise on Zoology, vol. Protozoa. |
Fig. 8.—Spores of various Glugeidae, × 1500 (after Thélohan). |
a and b, Pleistophora typicalis, Gurley; a in the fresh condition, b after treatment with iodine water, causing extrusion of the filament. a and b, Pleistophora typicalis, Gurley; a in its natural state, b after being treated with iodine water, resulting in the extrusion of the filament. c and d, Thelohania octospora, Henneguy; c fresh, d treated with ether. c and d, Thelohania octospora, Henneguy; c fresh, d treated with ether. e, Glugea depressa, Thél., fresh. e, Glugea depressa, Thél., fresh. f, G. acuta, Thél. f, G. acuta, Thél. |
2. Order—Actinomyxidia. This order comprises a peculiar group of parasites, first described by A. Stolc in 1899, which are restricted to Oligochaete worms of the family Tubificidae. Most forms attack the intestinal wall, often destroying its epithelium over considerable areas; but one genus, Sphaeractinomyxon, inhabits the body-cavity of its host. The researches of Caullery and Mesnil (10-12) and of Léger (28 and 29) have shown that the parasites exhibit the typical features of the Endospora, and the spores possess the characteristic polar-capsules of the Myxosporidian spore, but differ therefrom by their more complicated structure.
2. Order—Actinomyxidia. This order includes a unique group of parasites, first described by A. Stolc in 1899, that are found only in Oligochaete worms of the family Tubificidae. Most species invade the intestinal wall, often damaging its epithelium over large areas; however, one genus, Sphaeractinomyxon, lives in the body cavity of its host. Research by Caullery and Mesnil (10-12) and Léger (28 and 29) has revealed that these parasites show the typical characteristics of Endospora, and their spores have the distinctive polar capsules of Myxosporidian spores, but they are differentiated by their more complex structure.
The growth and development of an Actinomyxidian have been recently worked out by Caullery and Mesnil in the case of Sphaeractinomyxon stolci. A noteworthy point is the differentiation of an external (covering) cellular layer, which affords, perhaps, the nearest approach to distinct tissue-formation known among Protozoa. This envelope is formed soon after nuclear multiplication of the young trophozoite has begun, and is constituted by two nuclei and a thin, peripheral layer of cytoplasm. It remains binuclear throughout the entire period of development, and serves as a delicate cyst-membrane. The multiplication of the internal nuclei is accompanied by a corresponding division of the cytoplasm; so that instead of a multinucleate or plasmodial condition, distinct uninucleate cellules are formed, up to sixteen in number. These cellules, as a matter of fact, are sexual elements or gametes; and eight of them can be distinguished from the other eight by slight differences in the nuclei. The gametes unite in couples, each couple being most probably composed of dissimilar members: in other words, conjugation is slightly anisogamous. Each of these eight copulae gives rise to a spore.
The growth and development of an Actinomyxidian have recently been studied by Caullery and Mesnil in the case of Sphaeractinomyxon stolci. A notable point is the formation of an external (covering) cellular layer, which possibly represents the closest thing to distinct tissue formation known among Protozoa. This layer forms soon after nuclear replication in the young trophozoite begins and consists of two nuclei and a thin outer layer of cytoplasm. It remains binuclear throughout the entire developmental period and acts as a delicate cyst membrane. The multiplication of the internal nuclei is accompanied by a corresponding division of the cytoplasm, so instead of a multinucleate or plasmodial state, separate uninucleate cells are formed, up to sixteen in total. These cells are actually sexual elements or gametes; and eight of them can be differentiated from the other eight by minor differences in their nuclei. The gametes pair up, with each pair likely made up of different types: in other words, conjugation is slightly anisogamous. Each of these eight pairs results in a spore.
As the name of the order implies, there are always eight spores formed. These differ from other Endosporan spores in having invariably a ternary symmetry and constitution (fig. 9). The wall of the spore is composed of three valves, each formed from an enveloping cell, and three capsular cells, placed at the upper or anterior pole, and containing each a polar-capsule, visible in the fresh condition. The valves are usually prolonged into processes or appendages, whose form and arrangement characterize the genus; but in Sphaeractinomyxon the spore is spherical and lacks processes. The sporoplasm may be either a plasmodial mass, with numerous nuclei, or may form a certain number of uninuclear sporozoites. A remarkable feature in the development of the spore is that the germinal tissue (sporoplasm) arises separate from and outside the cellules which give rise to the spore-wall; later, when the envelopes are nearly developed, the sporoplasm penetrates into the spore.
As the name of the order suggests, there are always eight spores formed. These spores differ from other Endosporan spores in having a consistent three-part symmetry and structure (fig. 9). The spore wall consists of three valves, each made from an outer cell, and three capsular cells located at the upper or front end, each containing a polar capsule that is visible when fresh. The valves usually extend into processes or appendages, which are specific to the genus; however, in Sphaeractinomyxon, the spore is spherical and does not have any processes. The sporoplasm can either be a mass of plasma with many nuclei, or it can form several single-nucleus sporozoites. An interesting aspect of spore development is that the germinal tissue (sporoplasm) develops separately from and outside the cells that form the spore wall; later, as the envelopes nearly finish developing, the sporoplasm moves into the spore.
Four genera have been made known. (1) Hexactinomyxon, Stolc. Spores having the form of an anchor with six arms; sporoplasm plasmodial, situate near the anterior pole of the spore. One sp. H. psammoryctis, from Psammoryctes. (2) Triactinomyxon, St. Spores having the form of an anchor with three arms; distinct sporozoites, disposed near the anterior pole. T. ignotum, with eight spores, from Tubifex tubifex, and also from an unspecified Tubificid; another sp., unnamed, with 32 sporozoites, also from T. t. (3) Synactinomyxon, St. Spores united to one another, each having two aliform appendages; sporoplasm plasmodial. One sp., S. tubificis, from T. rivulorum. (4) Sphaeractinomyxon, C. and M. Spores spherical, without aliform prolongations; sporoplasm gives rise to very many 387 sporozoites, occupying the whole spore. One sp., S. stolci, from Clitellio and Hemitubifex.
Four genera have been identified. (1) Hexactinomyxon, Stolc. Spores shaped like an anchor with six arms; the sporoplasm is plasmodial and located near the front end of the spore. One species: H. psammoryctis, from Psammoryctes. (2) Triactinomyxon, St. Spores shaped like an anchor with three arms; distinct sporozoites are positioned near the front end. T. ignotum, which has eight spores, is from Tubifex tubifex and also from an unspecified Tubificid; another unnamed species has 32 sporozoites, also from T. t. (3) Synactinomyxon, St. Spores connected to one another, each with two wing-like appendages; sporoplasm is plasmodial. One species: S. tubificis, from T. rivulorum. (4) Sphaeractinomyxon, C. and M. Spores are spherical, without wing-like extensions; sporoplasm produces many sporozoites that fill the entire spore. One species: S. stolci, from Clitellio and Hemitubifex.
![]() | |
From Lankester’s Treatise on Zoology, vol. Protozoa. | |
Fig. 9.—Spores of Actinomyxidia (after Stolc). | |
a, Hexactinomyxon psammoryctis (par. Psammoryctes barbatus). a, Hexactinomyxon psammoryctis (also known as Psammoryctes barbatus). b, Synactinomyxon tubificis (par. Tubifex rivulorum); the mass of united spores. b, Synactinomyxon tubificis (par. Tubifex rivulorum); the cluster of combined spores. |
c, Triactinomyxon ignotum (par. Clitellio, sp.). c, Triactinomyxon ignotum (part of Clitellio, species). d, Upper portion of Hexactinomyxon, showing two of the three polar capsules, one with filament discharged. d, Upper part of Hexactinomyxon, showing two of the three polar capsules, one with a filament released. |
![]() |
![]() |
From Wasielewski’s Sporozoenkunde. | |
Fig. 10.—A. Sarcosporidia in the ox; a transverse section of the oesophagus, natural size, showing the parasites in the outer (a, b, c, d, e) and inner (f, g, h) muscular coats. | |
B. Longitudinal section of a muscle-fibre containing a Sarcosporidian parasite, × 60. |
3. Order—Sarcosporidia. With the exception of one or two forms occurring in reptiles, these parasites are always found in warm-blooded Vertebrates, usually Mammals. They are of common occurrence in domestic animals, such as pigs, sheep, horses and (sometimes) cattle. A Sarcosporidian has also been described from man. The characteristic habitat is the striped muscle, generally of the oesophagus (fig. 10, A) and heart, but in acute cases the parasites overrun the general musculature. When this occurs, as often happens in mice, the result is usually fatal. Unless, however, the organisms thus spread throughout the body, the host does not appear to suffer any serious consequences. In addition to the effects produced by the general disturbance to the tissues, the attacked animals have apparently to contend—at any rate in the case of Sarcocystis tenella in the sheep—with a poison secreted by the parasite. For Laveran and Mesnil (27) have isolated a toxine from this form, which they have termed sarcocystin.
3. Order—Sarcosporidia. Except for a few types found in reptiles, these parasites are typically found in warm-blooded vertebrates, mainly mammals. They are commonly seen in domestic animals like pigs, sheep, horses, and occasionally cattle. A Sarcosporidian has also been described in humans. Their typical habitat is striped muscle, usually in the esophagus (fig. 10, A) and heart; however, in severe cases, the parasites can invade the overall musculature. When this happens, as often seen in mice, it usually leads to death. Unless the organisms spread throughout the body, the host doesn’t seem to experience any major effects. In addition to the issues caused by the general disruption of tissues, affected animals appear to have to deal—with at least Sarcocystis tenella in sheep—with a toxin produced by the parasite. Laveran and Mesnil (27) have isolated a toxin from this form, which they called sarcocystin.
In the early stages of growth, a Sarcosporidian appears as an elongated whitish body lodged in the substance of a muscle-fibre; this phase has long been known as a “Miescher’s tube,” or Miescheria. The youngest trophozoites that have been yet observed (by Bertram, 1) were multinucleate (fig. 11, A), but there is no reason to doubt that they begin life in a uninuclear condition. The protoplasm is limited by a delicate cuticle. With growth, organellae corresponding to the Myxosporidian pansporoblasts are formed by the segregation internally of little uninuclear spheres of protoplasm. At the same time, a thick striated envelope is developed around the parasite, which later comes to look like a fur of fine filaments. The probable explanation of this feature (given by Vuillemin, 44) is that it is due to the partial breaking down of a stiff, vertically (or radially) striated external layer (fig. 12, A), such as is seen in Myxidium lieberkühnii. Immediately internal to this is a thin, homogeneous membrane, which sends numerous partitions or septa inwards; these divide up the endoplasm into somewhat angular chambers or alveoli (fig. 12). In each chamber is a pansporoblast, which divides up to produce many spores; hence the spores formed from different pansporoblasts are kept more or less separate. The pansporoblasts originate, in a growing Sarcosporidian, at the two poles of the body, where the peripheral endoplasm with its nuclei is chiefly aggregated. More internally, spore-formation is in progress; and in the centre, pansporoblasts full of ripe spores are found.
In the early stages of growth, a Sarcosporidian looks like an elongated whitish structure embedded in muscle tissue; this stage is often referred to as a “Miescher’s tube,” or Miescheria. The youngest trophozoites observed (by Bertram, 1) were multinucleate (fig. 11, A), but it’s reasonable to believe that they start out as uninucleate. The protoplasm is surrounded by a thin cuticle. As it grows, organelles similar to Myxosporidian pansporoblasts form from little uninucleate spheres of protoplasm separating internally. At the same time, a thick striated envelope develops around the parasite, which later resembles fur made of fine filaments. The likely explanation for this feature (according to Vuillemin, 44) is that it results from the partial breakdown of a rigid external layer that is striated either vertically or radially (fig. 12, A), similar to what is found in Myxidium lieberkühnii. Just inside this layer is a thin, uniform membrane that creates many partitions or septa inwardly; these divide the endoplasm into angular chambers or alveoli (fig. 12). In each chamber is a pansporoblast that divides to produce numerous spores; thus, the spores generated from different pansporoblasts remain somewhat separate. Pansporoblasts in a growing Sarcosporidian originate at the two ends of the body, where the peripheral endoplasm with its nuclei is mostly concentrated. Further in, spore formation is happening, and at the center, pansporoblasts filled with mature spores can be found.
By this time the parasite has greatly distended the muscle-fibre in which it has hitherto lain, absorbing, with its growth, practically all the contractile-substance, until it is surrounded only by the sarcolemma and sarcoplasm. It next passes into the adjacent connective-tissue, and in this phase has been distinguished from Miescheria as Balbiania, under the impression that the two forms were quite distinct. In the later stages, the parasite may become more rounded, and a cyst may be secreted around it by the host’s tissue. In these older forms, the most centrally placed spores degenerate and die, having become over-ripe and stale.
By this time, the parasite has significantly enlarged the muscle fiber where it has been located, absorbing almost all of the contractile substance as it grows, until it is only surrounded by the sarcolemma and sarcoplasm. It then moves into the nearby connective tissue, and during this phase, it has been identified as Balbiania, distinguishing it from Miescheria, believing that the two forms were completely different. In the later stages, the parasite may become more rounded, and a cyst might be formed around it by the host’s tissue. In these older forms, the spores located most centrally degenerate and die, having become overripe and stale.
![]() |
![]() |
After Bertram, from Wasielewski’s Sporozoenkunde. | |
Fig. 11.—Stages in the growth of Sarcocystis tenella of the sheep. A, Youngest observed stage in which the radially striated outer coat has not appeared; the body of the trophozoite is already divided into a number of cells or pansporoblasts (k). B and C, Older stages with numerous pansporoblasts and two envelopes, an inner membrane and an outer radially striated layer. |
With regard to the spores themselves and what becomes of them, our knowledge is defective. Two kinds of reproductive germ have been described, termed respectively gymnospores (so-called sporozoites, “Rainey’s corpuscles”) and chlamydospores, or simply spores. It seems probable that the former serve for endogenous or auto-infection, and the latter for infecting fresh hosts. Unfortunately, however, both kinds of germ are not yet known in the case of any one species. The gymnospores, which are the more commonly found (e.g. in S. muris, S. miescheriana of the pig, and other forms), are small sickle-shaped 388 or reniform bodies which are more or less amoeboid, and capable of active movement at certain temperatures. They appear to be naked, and consist of finely granular protoplasm, containing a single nucleus and one or two vacuoles. The chlamydospores, or true spores, occur in S. tenella of sheep (fig. 13), and have been described by Laveran and Mesnil (26). They also are falciform, but one extremity is rounded, the other pointed. There is a very thin, delicate membrane, most unlike a typical, resistant spore-wall; and the spores themselves are extremely fragile and easily acted upon and deformed by reagents, even by distilled water. The rounded end of the spore contains a large nucleus, while at the other end is an oval, clear space, which, in the fresh condition, shows a distinct spiral striation. The exact significance of this structure has been much debated. In position and appearance it recalls the polar-capsule of a Myxosporidian spore. The proof of this interpretation would be the expulsion of a filament on suitably stimulating the spore; while, however, some investigators have asserted that such a filament is extruded, this cannot be regarded as at all certain. Hence it is still doubtful whether this striated body really corresponds to a polar-capsule.
Regarding the spores themselves and what happens to them, our understanding is lacking. Two types of reproductive germs have been identified, called gymnospores (also known as sporozoites or “Rainey’s corpuscles”) and chlamydospores, or simply spores. It seems likely that the former are used for endogenous or auto-infection, while the latter are meant for infecting new hosts. Unfortunately, both types of germs have not yet been identified for any one species. The gymnospores, which are more commonly found (e.g., in S. muris, S. miescheriana of the pig, and other forms), are small, sickle-shaped 388 or kidney-shaped bodies that are somewhat amoeboid and can move actively at certain temperatures. They appear to be bare and consist of finely granular protoplasm, containing a single nucleus and one or two vacuoles. The chlamydospores, or true spores, are found in S. tenella in sheep (fig. 13) and have been described by Laveran and Mesnil (26). They are also sickle-shaped, but one end is rounded while the other is pointed. There’s a very thin, delicate membrane, quite different from a typical, sturdy spore wall; the spores are extremely fragile and easily affected and deformed by reagents, even by distilled water. The rounded end of the spore contains a large nucleus, while the other end has an oval, clear space that, when fresh, shows distinct spiral striations. The exact significance of this structure has been widely debated. In terms of location and appearance, it resembles the polar-capsule of a Myxosporidian spore. Proof of this interpretation would be the expulsion of a filament when the spore is suitably stimulated; while some researchers have claimed that such a filament is released, this has not been definitively established. Therefore, it remains uncertain whether this striated body truly corresponds to a polar-capsule.
![]() |
![]() |
From Wasielewski’s Sporozoenkunde. | |
Fig. 12.—A, Sarcocystis miescheriana
(Kühn) from the pig: late stage in
which the body has become divided
up into numerous chambers or alveoli,
each containing a number of germs. | |
B, Sarcocystis of the ox: section of a stage similar to fig. 12. a, Substance of muscle-fibre; b, envelope of parasite; c, nuclei of the muscle; d, parasitic germs (gymnospores); e, walls of the alveoli. In the peripheral alveoli are seen immature germs. |
![]() |
(After Laveran and Mesnil, from Lankester’s Treatise on Zoology, vol. Protozoa.) |
Fig. 13.—Spores of Sarcocystis tenella, Raill., from the sheep. |
a, Spore in the fresh condition, showing a clear nucleus (n) and a striated body or capsule (c). a, Spore in fresh condition, showing a clear nucleus (n) and a striated body or capsule (c). b, Stained spore; the nucleus (n) shows a central karyosome; the striations of the polar capsule (c) are not visible. b, Stained spore; the nucleus (n) has a central karyosome; the striations of the polar capsule (c) are not visible. |
Nothing whatever is known as to the natural means by which infection with Sarcosporidia is brought about. Smith (39) showed that mice can be infected with Sarcocystis muris by simply feeding them on the flesh of infected mice. It is not very likely, however, that this represents the natural mode, even in the case of mice; and it certainly cannot do so in the case of Herbivora. The difficulty in the way is the delicacy of the spores, which seem totally unfitted to withstand external conditions. It may be that some alternative (intermediate) host is concerned in dispersal; but this has yet to be ascertained.
Nothing is known about how infection with Sarcosporidia occurs naturally. Smith (39) demonstrated that mice can get infected with Sarcocystis muris just by eating the flesh of infected mice. However, it’s unlikely that this reflects the natural way of transmission, even among mice, and it definitely can't apply to herbivores. The issue lies in the fragility of the spores, which seem completely unsuitable for surviving external conditions. It's possible that there is some intermediate host involved in spreading the infection, but this has yet to be confirmed.
All known Sarcosporidia are included in a single genus Sarcocystis, Lank. (= Miescheria + Balbiania, Blanchard.) Some of the principal species are: S. miescheriana, from pigs; S. tenella, from sheep; S. bertrami, from horses; S. blanchardi, from Bovines; S. muris, from mice; S. platydactyli, from the gecko; and lastly, S. lindemanni, described from man.
All known Sarcosporidia are categorized under a single genus, Sarcocystis, Lank. (= Miescheria + Balbiania, Blanchard.) Some of the main species include: S. miescheriana, found in pigs; S. tenella, found in sheep; S. bertrami, found in horses; S. blanchardi, found in bovines; S. muris, found in mice; S. platydactyli, found in geckos; and finally, S. lindemanni, which is described as being found in humans.
4. Order—Haplosporidia. The Sporozoa included in this order are characterized by the general simplicity of their development, and by the undifferentiated character of their spores. The order includes a good many forms, whose arrangement and classification have been recently undertaken by Caullery and Mesnil (15), to whom, indeed, most of our knowledge relating to the Haplosporidia is due. The habitat of the parasites is sufficiently varied; Rotifers, Crustacea, Annelids and fishes furnishing most of the hosts. A recent addition to the list of Protozoa causing injury to man, a Haplosporidian, has been described by Minchin and Fantham (29d), who have termed the parasite Rhinosporidium, from its habitat in the nasal septum, where it produces pedunculate tumours.
4. Order—Haplosporidia. The Sporozoa in this order are defined by their generally simple development and the uniform structure of their spores. This order includes several varieties, which have recently been organized and classified by Caullery and Mesnil (1529d), who named the parasite Rhinosporidium, based on its location in the nasal septum, where it creates pedunculated tumors.
![]() | |
From Minchin, in Lankester’s Treatise on Zoology, vol. Protozoa. | |
Fig. 14.—Bertramia Asperospora (Fritsch) from the body-cavity of Brachionus. × 1040. | |
a, Young form with opaque, evenly-granulated protoplasm and few refringent granules; the nuclei (n) are small, and appear to be surrounded each by a clear space. a, Young form with cloudy, evenly-granulated protoplasm and few shiny granules; the nuclei (n) are small and seem to be surrounded by a clear space each. b and c, Full-grown specimens with large nuclei and clearer protoplasm, containing numerous refringent granules (r. gr.). b and c, mature examples with large nuclei and clearer cytoplasm, containing many shiny granules (r. gr.). d and e, Morula stages, derived from b and c by division of the body into segments centred round the nuclei, each cell so formed being a spore. Between the spores a certain amount of intercellular substance or residual protoplasm is left, in which the refringent granules seem to be embedded. The morula may break up forthwith and scatter the spores, or may first round itself off and form a spherical cyst with a tough, fairly thick wall. d and e, Morula stages, come from b and c through the division of the body into segments centered around the nuclei, with each resulting cell being a spore. Between the spores, there's some intercellular substance or leftover protoplasm where the refringent granules appear to be embedded. The morula can either break up right away and disperse the spores or first round itself off to create a spherical cyst with a tough, relatively thick wall. |
f, Empty, slightly shrunken cyst, from which the spores have escaped. f, Empty, slightly shriveled cyst, from which the spores have escaped. g, Free spore or youngest unicellular trophozoite. g, Free spore or the youngest single-celled trophozoite. h, i, j, Commencing growth of the trophozoite, with multiplication of the nuclei, which results ultimately in forms such as a and b. h, i, j, Starting the growth of the trophozoite, with an increase in the nuclei, which eventually leads to forms like a and b. |
Bertramia, a well-known parasite of the body-cavity of Rotifers, will serve very well to give a general idea of the life-cycle so far as it has yet been made out (fig. 14). The trophozoite begins life as a small, rounded uninucleate corpuscle, which as it grows, becomes multinucleate. The multinuclear body generally assumes a definite shape, often that of a sausage. Later, the protoplasm becomes segregated around each of the nuclei, giving the parasite a mulberry-like aspect; hence this stage is frequently known as a morula. The uninuclear cellules thus formed are the spores, which are ultimately liberated by the break-up of the parent body. Each is of quite simple, undifferentiated structure, possesses a large, easily-visible nucleus, and gives rise in due course to another young trophozoite. In some instances, as described by 389 Minchin, the sporulating parasite becomes rounded off and forms a protective cyst, doubtless for the protection of the spores during dissemination.
Bertramia, a well-known parasite that lives in the body cavity of Rotifers, is a great example for understanding its life cycle as it's been studied so far (fig. 14). The trophozoite starts out as a small, rounded, single-nucleus cell, which grows and becomes multinucleate. This multinucleate body usually takes on a specific shape, often resembling a sausage. Later, the protoplasm separates around each of the nuclei, giving the parasite a mulberry-like appearance; this stage is often referred to as a morula. The single-nucleus cells formed this way are the spores, which are eventually released when the parent body breaks apart. Each spore has a simple, undifferentiated structure, a large, easily visible nucleus, and eventually develops into another young trophozoite. In some cases, as noted by 389 Minchin, the sporulating parasite becomes rounded and forms a protective cyst, likely to shield the spores during dispersal.
In some forms (e.g. Haplosporidium and Rhinosporidium) the spore-mother-cells, instead of becoming each a single spore, as in Bertramia, give rise to several, four in the first case, many in the latter. Sometimes, again, the spore, while preserving the essentially simple character of the sporoplasm, may be enclosed in a spore-case; this may have the form of a little box with a lid or operculum, as in some species of Haplosporidium, or may possess a long process or tail, as in Urosporidium (fig. 15).
In some forms (e.g. Haplosporidium and Rhinosporidium), the spore mother cells, instead of turning into individual spores like in Bertramia, develop into several spores—four in the first case and many in the latter. Sometimes, the spore, while still keeping the basically simple structure of the sporoplasm, may be surrounded by a spore case; this could look like a small box with a lid or operculum, as seen in some species of Haplosporidium, or it may have a long process or tail, like in Urosporidium (fig. 15).
The Haplosporidia are divided by Caullery and Mesnil into three families, Haplosporidiidae, Bertramiidae and Coelosporidiidae; one or two genera are also included whose exact position is doubtful.
The Haplosporidia are categorized by Caullery and Mesnil into three families: Haplosporidiidae, Bertramiidae, and Coelosporidiidae. One or two genera are also included, whose exact placement is uncertain.
(a) Haplosporidiidae: 3 genera, Haplosporidium, type-species H. heterocirri; Urosporidium, with one sp., U. fuliginosum; all parasitic in various Annelids; and Anurosporidium, with the species A. pelseneeri, from the sporocysts of a Trematode, parasitic on Donax.
(a) Haplosporidiidae: 3 genera, Haplosporidium, type-species H. heterocirri; Urosporidium, with one species, U. fuliginosum; all parasitic in various Annelids; and Anurosporidium, with the species A. pelseneeri, from the sporocysts of a Trematode, parasitic on Donax.
![]() | |
From Caullery and Mesnil, Archives de zoologie expérimentale, vol. 4, 1905, by permission
of Schleicher Frères et Cie, Paris. | |
Fig. 15.—Spores of various Haplosporidia. | |
1. Haplosporidium heterocirri: 1. Haplosporidium heterocirri: 2, H. scolopli. 2, H. scolopli. |
3, H. vejdovskii. 3, H. vejdovskii. 4, Urosporidium fuliginosum: 4, Urosporidium fuliginosum: |
(b) Bertramiidae: 2 genera, Bertramia, with B. capitellae from an Annelid and B. asperospora, the Rotiferan parasite above described; and Ichthyosporidium, with I. gasterophilum and I. phymogenes, parasitic in various fish.
(b) Bertramiidae: 2 genera, Bertramia, which includes B. capitellae from an Annelid and B. asperospora, the Rotiferan parasite mentioned earlier; and Ichthyosporidium, which consists of I. gasterophilum and I. phymogenes, both parasitic in different fish.
(c) Coelosporidiiae: genera Coelosporidium, type-species C. chydoriclola; and Polycaryum, type-species P. branchiopodianum. These forms are parasitic in small Crustacea. The genus Blastulidium is referred, doubtfully, by Caullery and Mesnil to this family; but certain phases of this organism seem to indicate rather a vegetable nature.
(c) Coelosporidiiae: genera Coelosporidium, type species C. chydoriclola; and Polycaryum, type species P. branchiopodianum. These organisms are parasites in small crustaceans. The genus Blastulidium is tentatively assigned to this family by Caullery and Mesnil; however, certain stages of this organism appear to suggest more of a plant-like nature.
The genus Rhinosporidium should probably be placed in a distinct family. The only species so far described is R. kinealyi from the nasal septum of man, to which reference has above been made. Another form, Neurosporidium cephalodisci, agreeing in some respects with Rhinosporidium, has been described by Ridewood and Fantham (37a) from the nervous system of Cephalodiscus.
The genus Rhinosporidium should likely be classified in its own family. The only species that has been described so far is R. kinealyi, found in the nasal septum of humans, which has been referenced earlier. Another form, Neurosporidium cephalodisci, which shares some similarities with Rhinosporidium, was described by Ridewood and Fantham (37a) from the nervous system of Cephalodiscus.
A parasite whose affinities are doubtful, but which is regarded by Caullery and Mesnil as allied to the Haplosporidia, is the curious parasite originally described by Schewiakoff as “endoparasitic tubes” of Cyclops; it has been named by Caullery and Mesnil, Scheviakovella. This organism is remarkable in one or two ways: it possesses a contractile vacuole; the amoeboid trophozoites tend to form plasmodia; and the spores, of the usual simple type, may apparently divide by binary fission.
A parasite with uncertain connections, but considered by Caullery and Mesnil to be related to the Haplosporidia, is the intriguing parasite initially described by Schewiakoff as “endoparasitic tubes” of Cyclops; Caullery and Mesnil named it Scheviakovella. This organism is notable in a couple of ways: it has a contractile vacuole; the amoeboid trophozoites tend to form plasmodia; and the spores, of the typical simple type, can apparently divide by binary fission.
5. There remain, lastly, certain forms, which are conveniently grouped together as “Sporozoa incertae sedis,” either for the reason that it is impossible to place them in any of the well-defined orders, or because their life-cycle is at present too insufficiently known. Serosporidia is the name given by Pfeiffer to certain minute parasites of the body-cavity of Crustacea; they include Serosporidium, Blanchardina and Botellus. Lymphosporidium, a form with distributed nucleus, causing virulent epidemics among brook-trout, is considered by Calkins(3) to be suitably placed here. Another parasite of lymphatic spaces and channels is the remarkable Lymphocystis, described by Woodcock (46), from plaice and flounders, which in some respects rather recalls a Gregarine. The group Exosporidia was founded by Perrier to include a peculiar organism, ectoparasitic on Arthropods, to which the name of Amoebidium had been given by Cienkowsky. It has recently been shown, however, that this organism is most probably an Alga. Another genus, Exosporidium, described by Sand (38), is placed at present in this group. For details of the structure of these forms and others like Siedleckia, Toxosporidium, Chitonicium Joyeuxella and Metschnikovella, a comprehensive treatise on the Sporozoa, such as that of Minchin, should be consulted.
5. Lastly, there are certain forms that are conveniently grouped as “Sporozoa incertae sedis,” either because they can’t be classified into any well-defined categories or because their life cycle is currently not well understood. Pfeiffer named Serosporidia to refer to certain tiny parasites found in the body cavity of Crustacea; this group includes Serosporidium, Blanchardina, and Botellus. Calkins (3) suggests that Lymphosporidium, a form with a distributed nucleus that causes severe outbreaks among brook trout, fits here well. Another parasite affecting lymphatic spaces and channels is the remarkable Lymphocystis, described by Woodcock (46), found in plaice and flounders, which somewhat resembles a Gregarine. The Exosporidia group was established by Perrier to include a unique organism, an ectoparasite on Arthropods, previously named Amoebidium by Cienkowsky. Recent findings suggest this organism is likely an Alga. Another genus, Exosporidium, described by Sand (38), is currently placed in this group. For more details on the structure of these forms and others like Siedleckia, Toxosporidium, Chitonicium, Joyeuxella, and Metschnikovella, a comprehensive treatise on the Sporozoa, such as Minchin’s, should be referenced.
To complete this article, it will be sufficient to mention various enigmatical bodies, associated with different diseases, which are regarded by their describers as Protozoa. Among such is the “Histosporidium carcinomatosum” of Feinberg, which he finds in cancerous growths. Cytoryctes, the name given to “Guarnieri’s bodies” in small-pox and vaccinia, has been recently investigated by Calkins (3a), who has described a complex life-cycle for the alleged parasite. Other workers, however, such as Siegel, give a quite different account of these bodies, and, moreover, find similar ones in scarlet-fever, syphilis, &c.; while yet others (e.g. Prowazek) deny that they are parasitic organisms at all.
To finish this article, it’s enough to mention several mysterious bodies linked to different diseases that are seen as Protozoa by those who describe them. One example is the “Histosporidium carcinomatosum” of Feinberg, which he identifies in cancerous growths. Cytoryctes, the term given to “Guarnieri’s bodies” in smallpox and vaccinia, has recently been studied by Calkins (3a), who detailed a complex life cycle for the supposed parasite. However, other researchers, like Siegel, provide a very different perspective on these bodies and even find similar ones in scarlet fever, syphilis, etc.; while others (e.g. Prowazek) argue that they aren’t parasitic organisms at all.
Bibliography.—(For general works see under Sporozoa.) (1) Bertram, “Beiträge zur Kenntnis der Sarcosporidien,” Zool. Jahrb. Anat. 5, 1902; (2) L. Brasil, “Joyeuxella toxoides,” (n.g., n.sp.), Arch. zool. exp. N. et R. (3) 10, p. 5, 7 figs., 1902; (3) G.N. Calkins, “Lymphosporidium truttae,” (n.g., n.sp.), Zool. Anz. 23, p. 513, 6 figs., 1903; (3a) ib. The Life-History of Cytoryctes Variolae; Guarnieri, “Studies path. etiol. variola,” J. Med. Research (Boston, 1904), p. 136, 4 pls.; (3b) M. Caullery and A. Chappellier, “Anurosporidium pelseneeri, (n.g., n.sp.), Haplosporidie,” &c., C. R. soc. biol. 60, p. 325, 1906; (4) M. Caullery and F. Mesnil, “Sur un type nouveau” (Metchnikovella, n.g.), C. R. ac. sci. 125, p. 787, 10 figs., 1897; (5) ib. “Sur trois Sporozoaires parasites de la Capitella,” C. R. soc. biol. 49, p. 1005, 1877; (6) ib. “Sur un Sporozoaire aberrant” (Siedleckia, n.g.), op. cit. 50, p. 1093, 7 figs., 1898; (7) ib. “Sur le genre Aplosporidium” (nov.), op. cit. 51, p. 789, 1899; (8) ib. “Sur les Aplosporidies,” C. R. ac. sci. 129, p. 616, 1899; (9) ib. “Sur les parasites intimes des Annélides” (Siedleckia, Toxosporidium), C. R. ass. franç., 1899, p. 491, 1900; (10) ib. “Sur un type nouveau (Sphaeractinomyxon, n.g.) d’Actinomyxidies,” C. R. soc. biol. 56, p. 408, 1904; (11) ib. “Phénomènes de sexualité dans le développement des Actinomyxidies,” op. cit. 58, p. 889, 1905; (12) ib. “Recherches sur les Actinomyxidies,” Arch. Protistenk. 6, p. 272, pl. 15, 1905; (13) ib. “Sur quelques nouvelles Haplosporidies d’Annélides,” C. R. soc. biol. 58, p. 580, 6 figs., 1905; (14) ib. “Sur des Haplosporidies parasites de poissons marins,” ib. p. 640, 1905; (15) ib. “Recherches sur les Haplosporidies,” Arch. zool. exp. (4) 4, p. 101, pls. 11-13, 1905; (16) L. Cohn, “Über die Myxosporidien von Esox lucius,” Zool. Jahr. Anat. 9, p. 227, 2 pls., 1896; (17) ib. “Zur Kenntniss der Myxosporidien,” Centrbl. Bakt. 1, Orig. 32, p. 628, 3 figs., 1902; (18) ib. “Protozoen als Parasiten in Rotatorien,” Zool. Anz. 25, p. 497, 1902; (19) F. Doflein, “Über Myxosporidien,” Zool. Jahr. Anat. 11, p. 281, 6 pls., 1898; (20) ib. “Fortschritte auf dem Gebiete der Myxosporidienkunde,” Zool. Centrbl. 7, p. 361, 1899; (21) R. Gurley, “The Myxosporidia,” Bull. U.S. Fish. Comm., 1892, p. 65, 47 pls., 1894; (22) E. Hesse, “Sur une nouvelle Microsporidie tétrasporée du genre Gurleya,” C. R. soc. biol. 55, p. 495, 1903; (23) ib. “Thelohania légeri” (n.sp.), op. cit. 57, pp. 570-572, 10 figs., 1904; (24) ib. “Sur Myxocystis Mrazeki Hesse,” &c., op. cit. 58, p. 12, 9 figs., 1905; (25) A. Laveran and F. Mesnil, “Sur la multiplication endogène des Myxosporidies,” op. cit. 54, p. 469, 5 figs., 1902; (26) ib. “Sur la morphologie des Sarcosporidies,” op. cit. 51, p. 245, 1899; (27) ib. “De la Sarcocystin,” op. cit. p. 311, 1899; (28) L. Léger, “Sur la sporulation du Triactinomyxon,” op. cit. 56, p. 844, 4 figs., 1904; (29) ib. “Considérations sur ... les Actinomyxidies,” op. cit. p. 846, 1904; (29a) L. Léger and E. Hesse, “Sur une nouvelle Myxosporidie, Coccomyxa, n.g.,” C. R. ac. sci., 1st July 1907; (29b) ib. “Sur la structure de la paroisporale des Myxosporidies,” op. cit. 142, p. 720, 1906; (29c) A. Lutz and A. Splendore, “Über ‘Pébrine’ and verwandte Mikrosporidien,” Centrbl. Bakt. 1, 33, Orig. p. 150, 1903, and 36, Orig. p. 645, 2 pls., 1904; (29d) E.A. Minchin and H.B. Fantham, “Rhinosporidium kinealyi” (n.g., n.sp.), Q. J. Micr. Sci. 49, p. 521, 2 pls., 1905; (30) A. Mrazek, “Über eine neue Sporozoenform” (Myxocystis), S. B. Böhm. Ges. 8, 5 pp., 9 figs., 1897; (31) ib. “Glugea lophii,” Doflein, op. cit. 10, 8 pp., 1 pl., 1899; (32) C. Perez, “Sur un organisme nouveau, Blastulidium,” C. R. soc. biol. 55, p. 715, 5 figs., 1903; (33) ib. “Sur nouvelles Glugéidées,” op. cit. 58, pp. 146-151, 1905; (34) ib. “Microsporidies parasites des crabes,” Bull. sta. biol. d’Arcachon, 8, 22 pp., 14 figs., 1905; (35) W.S. Perrin, “Pleistophora periplanetae,” Q. J. Micr. Sci. 49, p. 615, 2 pls., 1906; (36) L. Plate, “Über einen einzelligen Zellparasiten” (Chitonicium), Fauna Chilensis, 2, pp. 601, pls., 1901; (37) M. Plehn, “Über die Drehkrankheit der Salmoniden” (Lentospora, n.g.), Arch. Protistenk. 5, p. 145, pl. 5, 1904; (37a) W.J. Ridewood and H.B. Fantham, “Neurosporidium cephalodisci, n.g., n.sp.,” Q. J. Micr. Sci. 51, p. 81, pl. 7, 1907; (38) R. Sand, “Exosporidium marinum” (n.g., 390 n.sp.), Bull. soc. micr. belge, 24, p. 116, 1898; (39) T. Smith, “The production of sarcosporidiosis in the mouse,” &c., J. Exp. Med. 6, p. 1, 4 pls., 1901; (40) W. Stempell, “Über Thelohania mülleri,” Zool. Jahr. Anat. 16, p. 235, pl. 25, 1902; (41) ib. “Über Polycaryum branchiopodianum” (n.g., n.sp.), Zool. Jahrb. Syst. 15, p. 591, pl. 31, 1902; (42) ib. “Über Nosema anomalum,” Arch. Protistenk, 4, p. 1, pls. 1-3, 1904; (43) P. Thélohan, “Recherches sur les Myxosporidies,” Bull. sci. France belg. 26, p. 100, 3 pls., 1895; (44) P. Vuillemin, “Le Sarcocystis tenella, parasite de l’homme,” C. R. ac. sci. 134, p. 1152, 1902; (45) H.M. Woodcock, “On Myxosporidia in flat fish,” Proc. Liverp. Biol. Soc. 18, p. 126, pl. 2, 1904; (46) ib. “On a remarkable parasite” (Lymphocystis), op. cit. p. 143, pl. 3, 1904.
References.—(For general works see under Sporozoa.) (1) Bertram, “Contributions to the Study of Sarcosporidia,” Zool. Jahrb. Anat. 5, 1902; (2) L. Brasil, “Joyeuxella toxoides,” (n.g., n.sp.), Arch. zool. exp. N. et R. (3) 10, p. 5, 7 figs., 1902; (3) G.N. Calkins, “Lymphosporidium truttae,” (n.g., n.sp.), Zool. Anz. 23, p. 513, 6 figs., 1903; (3a) ib. The Life-History of Cytoryctes Variolae; Guarnieri, “Pathological and Etiological Studies of Variola,” J. Med. Research (Boston, 1904), p. 136, 4 pls.; (3b) M. Caullery and A. Chappellier, “Anurosporidium pelseneeri, (n.g., n.sp.), Haplosporidia,” &c., C. R. soc. biol. 60, p. 325, 1906; (4) M. Caullery and F. Mesnil, “On a New Type” (Metchnikovella, n.g.), C. R. ac. sci. 125, p. 787, 10 figs., 1897; (5) ib. “On Three Parasitic Sporozoa of the Capitella,” C. R. soc. biol. 49, p. 1005, 1877; (6) ib. “On an Aberrant Sporozoan” (Siedleckia, n.g.), op. cit. 50, p. 1093, 7 figs., 1898; (7) ib. “On the Genus Aplosporidium” (nov.), op. cit. 51, p. 789, 1899; (8) ib. “On the Aplosporidia,” C. R. ac. sci. 129, p. 616, 1899; (9) ib. “On the Intracellular Parasites of Annelids” (Siedleckia, Toxosporidium), C. R. ass. franç., 1899, p. 491, 1900; (10) ib. “On a New Type (Sphaeractinomyxon, n.g.) of Actinomyxidae,” C. R. soc. biol. 56, p. 408, 1904; (11) ib. “Sexual Phenomena in the Development of Actinomyxidae,” op. cit. 58, p. 889, 1905; (12) ib. “Research on Actinomyxidae,” Arch. Protistenk. 6, p. 272, pl. 15, 1905; (13) ib. “On Some New Haplosporidia of Annelids,” C. R. soc. biol. 58, p. 580, 6 figs., 1905; (14) ib. “On Haplosporidia Parasites of Marine Fishes,” ib. p. 640, 1905; (15) ib. “Research on Haplosporidia,” Arch. zool. exp. (4) 4, p. 101, pls. 11-13, 1905; (16) L. Cohn, “About the Myxosporidia of Esox lucius,” Zool. Jahr. Anat. 9, p. 227, 2 pls., 1896; (17) ib. “On the Knowledge of Myxosporidia,” Centrbl. Bakt. 1, Orig. 32, p. 628, 3 figs., 1902; (18) ib. “Protozoa as Parasites in Rotifers,” Zool. Anz. 25, p. 497, 1902; (19) F. Doflein, “About Myxosporidia,” Zool. Jahr. Anat. 11, p. 281, 6 pls., 1898; (20) ib. “Progress in the Field of Myxosporidia Research,” Zool. Centrbl. 7, p. 361, 1899; (21) R. Gurley, “The Myxosporidia,” Bull. U.S. Fish. Comm., 1892, p. 65, 47 pls., 1894; (22) E. Hesse, “On a New Four-Spored Microsporidia of the Genus Gurleya,” C. R. soc. biol. 55, p. 495, 1903; (23) ib. “Thelohania légeri” (n.sp.), op. cit. 57, pp. 570-572, 10 figs., 1904; (24) ib. “On Myxocystis Mrazeki Hesse,” &c., op. cit. 58, p. 12, 9 figs., 1905; (25) A. Laveran and F. Mesnil, “On the Endogenous Multiplication of Myxosporidia,” op. cit. 54, p. 469, 5 figs., 1902; (26) ib. “On the Morphology of Sarcosporidia,” op. cit. 51, p. 245, 1899; (27) ib. “On Sarcocystin,” op. cit. p. 311, 1899; (28) L. Léger, “On the Sporulation of Triactinomyxon,” op. cit. 56, p. 844, 4 figs., 1904; (29) ib. “Considerations on ... the Actinomyxidae,” op. cit. p. 846, 1904; (29a) L. Léger and E. Hesse, “On a New Myxosporidia, Coccomyxa, n.g.,” C. R. ac. sci., 1st July 1907; (29b) ib. “On the Structure of the Wall of Myxosporidia,” op. cit. 142, p. 720, 1906; (29c) A. Lutz and A. Splendore, “About ‘Pébrine’ and Related Microsporidia,” Centrbl. Bakt. 1, 33, Orig. p. 150, 1903, and 36, Orig. p. 645, 2 pls., 1904; (29d) E.A. Minchin and H.B. Fantham, “Rhinosporidium kinealyi” (n.g., n.sp.), Q. J. Micr. Sci. 49, p. 521, 2 pls., 1905; (30) A. Mrazek, “About a New Sporozoan Form” (Myxocystis), S. B. Böhm. Ges. 8, 5 pp., 9 figs., 1897; (31) ib. “Glugea lophii,” Doflein, op. cit. 10, 8 pp., 1 pl., 1899; (32) C. Perez, “On a New Organism, Blastulidium,” C. R. soc. biol. 55, p. 715, 5 figs., 1903; (33) ib. “On New Glugeidés,” op. cit. 58, pp. 146-151, 1905; (34) ib. “Microsporidia Parasites of Crabs,” Bull. sta. biol. d’Arcachon, 8, 22 pp., 14 figs., 1905; (35) W.S. Perrin, “Pleistophora periplanetae,” Q. J. Micr. Sci. 49, p. 615, 2 pls., 1906; (36) L. Plate, “About a Single-Celled Cell Parasite” (Chitonicium), Fauna Chilensis, 2, pp. 601, pls., 1901; (37) M. Plehn, “About the Twisting Disease of Salmonids” (Lentospora, n.g.), Arch. Protistenk. 5, p. 145, pl. 5, 1904; (37a) W.J. Ridewood and H.B. Fantham, “Neurosporidium cephalodisci, n.g., n.sp.,” Q. J. Micr. Sci. 51, p. 81, pl. 7, 1907; (38) R. Sand, “Exosporidium marinum” (n.g., n.sp.), Bull. soc. micr. belge, 24, p. 116, 1898; (39) T. Smith, “The Production of Sarcosporidiosis in Mice,” &c., J. Exp. Med. 6, p. 1, 4 pls., 1901; (40) W. Stempell, “About Thelohania mülleri,” Zool. Jahr. Anat. 16, p. 235, pl. 25, 1902; (41) ib. “About Polycaryum branchiopodianum” (n.g., n.sp.), Zool. Jahrb. Syst. 15, p. 591, pl. 31, 1902; (42) ib. “About Nosema anomalum,” Arch. Protistenk, 4, p. 1, pls. 1-3, 1904; (43) P. Thélohan, “Research on Myxosporidia,” Bull. sci. France belg. 26, p. 100, 3 pls., 1895; (44) P. Vuillemin, “Sarcocystis tenella, a Parasite of Humans,” C. R. ac. sci. 134, p. 1152, 1902; (45) H.M. Woodcock, “On Myxosporidia in Flatfish,” Proc. Liverp. Biol. Soc. 18, p. 126, pl. 2, 1904; (46) ib. “On a Remarkable Parasite” (Lymphocystis), op. cit. p. 143, pl. 3, 1904.
ENDYMION, in Greek mythology, son of Aëthlius and king of Elis. He was loved by Selene, goddess of the moon, by whom he had fifty daughters, supposed to represent the fifty moons of the Olympian festal cycle. In other versions, Endymion was a beautiful youth, a shepherd or hunter whom Selene visited every night while he lay asleep in a cave on Mount Latmus in Caria (Pausanias v. 1; Ovid, Ars am. iii. 83). Zeus left him free to choose anything he might desire, and he chose an everlasting sleep, in which he might remain youthful for ever (Apollodorus i. 7). According to others, Endymion’s eternal sleep was a punishment inflicted by Zeus upon him because he ventured to fall in love with Hera, when he was admitted to the society of the Olympian gods (Schol. Theocritus iii. 49). The usual form of the legend, however, represents Endymion as having been put to sleep by Selene herself in order that she might enjoy his society undisturbed (Cicero, Tusc. disp. i. 38). Some see in Endymion the sun, setting opposite to the rising moon, the Latmian cave being the cave of forgetfulness, into which the sun plunges beneath the sea; others regard him as the personification of sleep or death (see Mayor on Juvenal x. 318).
ENDYMION, in Greek mythology, the son of Aëthlius and king of Elis. He was loved by Selene, the goddess of the moon, with whom he had fifty daughters, thought to represent the fifty moons of the Olympian festival cycle. In other versions, Endymion was a handsome young man, a shepherd or hunter whom Selene visited every night while he slept in a cave on Mount Latmus in Caria (Pausanias v. 1; Ovid, Ars am. iii. 83). Zeus allowed him to choose anything he wanted, and he opted for eternal sleep, which would keep him youthful forever (Apollodorus i. 7). According to other accounts, Endymion’s eternal slumber was a punishment from Zeus for falling in love with Hera when he was welcomed into the company of the Olympian gods (Schol. Theocritus iii. 49). However, the most common version of the legend portrays Endymion as having been put to sleep by Selene herself so she could enjoy his company without interruption (Cicero, Tusc. disp. i. 38). Some interpret Endymion as the sun, setting opposite the rising moon, with the Latmian cave symbolizing the cave of forgetfulness, where the sun sinks beneath the sea; others view him as a representation of sleep or death (see Mayor on Juvenal x. 318).
ENERGETICS. The most fundamental result attained by the progress of physical science in the 19th century was the definite enunciation and development of the doctrine of energy, which is now paramount both in mechanics and in thermodynamics. For a discussion of the elementary ideas underlying this conception see the separate heading Energy.
ENERGETICS. The most significant achievement of 19th-century physical science was the clear statement and advancement of the concept of energy, which is now essential in both mechanics and thermodynamics. For a discussion of the basic ideas behind this concept, see the separate heading Energy.
Ever since physical speculation began in the atomic theories of the Greeks, its main problem has been that of unravelling the nature of the underlying correlation which binds together the various natural agencies. But it is only in recent times that scientific investigation has definitely established that there is a quantitative relation of simple equivalence between them, whereby each is expressible in terms of heat or mechanical power; that there is a certain measurable quantity associated with each type of physical activity which is always numerically identical with a corresponding quantity belonging to the new type into which it is transformed, so that the energy, as it is called, is conserved in unaltered amount. The main obstacle in the way of an earlier recognition and development of this principle had been the doctrine of caloric, which was suggested by the principles and practice of calorimetry, and taught that heat is a substance that can be transferred from one body to another, but cannot be created or destroyed, though it may become latent. So long as this idea maintained itself, there was no possible compensation for the destruction of mechanical power by friction; it appeared that mechanical effect had there definitely been lost. The idea that heat is itself convertible into power, and is in fact energy of motion of the minute invisible parts of bodies, had been held by Newton and in a vaguer sense by Bacon, and indeed long before their time; but it dropped out of the ordinary creed of science in the following century. It held a place, like many other anticipations of subsequent discovery, in the system of Natural Philosophy of Thomas Young (1804); and the discrepancies attending current explanations on the caloric theory were insisted on, about the same time, by Count Rumford and Sir H. Davy. But it was not till the actual experiments of Joule verified the same exact equivalence between heat produced and mechanical energy destroyed, by whatever process that was accomplished, that the idea of caloric had to be definitely abandoned. Some time previously R. Mayer, physician, of Heilbronn, had founded a weighty theoretical argument on the production of mechanical power in the animal system from the food consumed; he had, moreover, even calculated the value of a unit of heat, in terms of its equivalent in power, from the data afforded by Regnault’s determinations of the specific heats of air at constant pressure and at constant volume, the former being the greater on Mayer’s hypothesis (of which his calculation in fact constituted the verification) solely on account of the power required for the work of expansion of the gas against the surrounding constant pressure. About the same time Helmholtz, in his early memoir on the Conservation of Energy, constructed a cumulative argument by tracing the ramifications of the principle of conservation of energy throughout the whole range of physical science.
Ever since the ancient Greeks started exploring atomic theories, the main challenge has been figuring out the underlying relationship that connects various natural forces. However, only recently have scientists definitively shown that there's a measurable relationship of simple equivalence among them, meaning each force can be expressed in terms of heat or mechanical energy. There’s a specific quantity tied to each kind of physical activity that is always numerically equal to the corresponding quantity of the new form it changes into, ensuring that energy, as it’s called, remains constant. The primary barrier to acknowledging and developing this principle earlier was the caloric theory, which emerged from calorimetry principles and practices. This theory posited that heat is a substance that can be transferred between bodies but cannot be created or destroyed, even though it might become latent. As long as this idea persisted, there was no way to compensate for the loss of mechanical energy due to friction; it seemed like mechanical effect was completely lost. The notion that heat could be converted into power and that it was actually energy resulting from the motion of tiny invisible parts of matter was previously recognized by Newton and, in a more vague sense, by Bacon and even before them. However, this perspective faded from mainstream scientific thought in the following century. It was included in the Natural Philosophy framework of Thomas Young (1804), and around the same time, Count Rumford and Sir H. Davy pointed out the inconsistencies within the caloric theory. But it wasn't until Joule's experiments confirmed the exact equivalence between produced heat and destroyed mechanical energy, regardless of how it happened, that the caloric theory had to be completely set aside. Earlier, R. Mayer, a physician from Heilbronn, had developed a strong theoretical argument about how mechanical energy is generated within living organisms from the food they consume. He even calculated the equivalent value of a unit of heat based on the specific heats of air at constant pressure and constant volume, which were determined by Regnault. On Mayer’s hypothesis, the specific heat at constant pressure was greater simply because of the energy required to expand the gas against the surrounding constant pressure. Around the same time, Helmholtz, in his early work on the Conservation of Energy, built a cumulative argument by tracing the implications of the conservation principle throughout all areas of physical science.
Mechanical and Thermal Energy.—The amount of energy, defined in this sense by convertibility with mechanical work, which is contained in a material system, must be a function of its physical state and chemical constitution and of its temperature. The change in this amount, arising from a given transformation in the system, is usually measured by degrading the energy that leaves the system into heat; for it is always possible to do this, while the conversion of heat back again into other forms of energy is impossible without assistance, taking the form of compensating degradation elsewhere. We may adopt the provisional view which is the basis of abstract physics, that all these other forms of energy are in their essence mechanical, that is, arise from the motion or strain of material or ethereal media; then their distinction from heat will lie in the fact that these motions or strains are simply co-ordinated, so that they can be traced and controlled or manipulated in detail, while the thermal energy subsists in irregular motions of the molecules or smallest portions of matter, which we cannot trace on account of the bluntness of our sensual perceptions, but can only measure as regards total amount.
Mechanical and Thermal Energy.—The amount of energy, defined here by its ability to be converted into mechanical work, found in a material system, must depend on its physical state, chemical makeup, and temperature. The change in this amount, resulting from a transformation in the system, is usually assessed by converting any energy that leaves the system into heat; this conversion is always possible, while converting heat back into other forms of energy is not achievable without additional effort, which entails compensating losses elsewhere. We can take a temporary perspective based on abstract physics, where all these other forms of energy are essentially mechanical, meaning they come from the movement or stress of materials or ethereal media. Their difference from heat lies in the fact that these movements or stresses are organized in such a way that we can trace and control them in detail, while thermal energy exists in the random motions of molecules or the smallest parts of matter, which we can't track due to the limitations of our senses, but we can measure in terms of total quantity.
Historical: Abstract Dynamics.—Even in the case of a purely mechanical system, capable only of a finite number of definite types of disturbance, the principle of the conservation of energy is very far from giving a complete account of its motions; it forms only one among the equations that are required to determine their course. In its application to the kinetics of invariable systems, after the time of Newton, the principle was emphasized as fundamental by Leibnitz, was then improved and generalized by the Bernoullis and by Euler, and was ultimately expressed in its widest form by Lagrange. It is recorded by Helmholtz that it was largely his acquaintance in early years with the works of those mathematical physicists of the previous century, who had formulated and generalized the principle as a help towards the theoretical dynamics of complex systems of masses, that started him on the track of extending the principle throughout the whole range of natural phenomena. On the other hand, the ascertained validity of this extension to new types of phenomena, such as those of electrodynamics, now forms a main foundation of our belief in a mechanical basis for these sciences.
Historical: Abstract Dynamics.—Even in a purely mechanical system that can only experience a limited number of specific disruptions, the principle of energy conservation does not provide a complete explanation of its movements; it is just one of the equations needed to determine their behavior. After Newton’s time, this principle was highlighted as fundamental in relation to the motion of unchanging systems by Leibnitz, later enhanced and generalized by the Bernoullis and Euler, and ultimately articulated in its broadest form by Lagrange. Helmholtz noted that his early exposure to the works of the mathematical physicists of the previous century, who had formulated and expanded the principle to aid in the theoretical dynamics of complex mass systems, was what guided him towards applying the principle across all natural phenomena. Conversely, the confirmed applicability of this extension to new types of phenomena, like electrodynamics, now serves as a key foundation for our belief in a mechanical basis for these sciences.
In the hands of Lagrange the mathematical expression for the manner in which the energy is connected with the geometrical constitution of the material system became a sufficient basis for a complete knowledge of its dynamical phenomena. So far as statics was concerned, this doctrine took its rise as far back as Galileo, who recognized in the simpler cases that the work expended in the steady driving of a frictionless mechanical system is equal to its output. The expression of this fact was generalized in a brief statement by Newton in the Principia, and more in detail by the Bernoullis, until, in the analytical guise of the so-called principle of “virtual velocities” or virtual work, it finally became the basis of Lagrange’s general formulation of dynamics. In its application to kinetics a purely physical principle, also indicated by Newton, but developed long after with masterly applications by d’Alembert, that the reactions of the infinitesimal parts of the system against the accelerations of their motions statically equilibrate the forces applied to the system as a whole, was required in order to form a sufficient basis, and one which Lagrange soon afterwards condensed into the single relation of Least Action. As a matter of history, however, the complete formulation of the subject of abstract dynamics actually 391 arose (in 1758) from Lagrange’s precise demonstration of the principle of Least Action for a particle, and its immediate extension, on the basis of his new Calculus of Variations, to a system of connected particles such as might be taken as a representation of any material system; but here too the same physical as distinct from mechanical considerations come into play as in d’Alembert’s principle. (See Dynamics: Analytical.)
In Lagrange's hands, the mathematical framework linking energy to the geometric structure of a material system became a solid foundation for fully understanding its dynamic behavior. Regarding statics, this concept traces back to Galileo, who noted in simpler scenarios that the work done in continuously driving a frictionless mechanical system equals its output. Newton briefly summarized this idea in the Principia, and the Bernoullis elaborated on it, until it ultimately took the analytical form known as the principle of “virtual velocities” or virtual work, which became the cornerstone of Lagrange’s general dynamics formulation. For kinetics, a purely physical principle—also suggested by Newton but significantly expanded upon by d’Alembert—was needed: the reactions of the system's infinitesimal parts to their motion's accelerations statically balance the forces acting on the entire system. Lagrange later condensed this into the single relation of Least Action. Historically, the complete formulation of abstract dynamics actually emerged (in 1758) from Lagrange’s precise proof of the Least Action principle for a particle, which he then quickly extended, using his new Calculus of Variations, to a system of interconnected particles representing any material system. However, similar physical, as opposed to merely mechanical, considerations arise, just as they do in d’Alembert’s principle. (See Dynamics: Analytical.)
It is in the cases of systems whose state is changing so slowly that reactions arising from changing motions can be neglected, that the conditions are by far the simplest. In such systems, whether stationary or in a state of steady motion, the energy depends on the configuration alone, and its mathematical expression can be determined from measurement of the work required for a sufficient number of simple transformations; once it is thus found, all the statical relations of the system are implicitly determined along with it, and the results of all other transformations can be predicted. The general development of such relations is conveniently classed as a separate branch of physics under the name Energetics, first invented by W.J.M. Rankine; but the essential limitations of this method have not always been observed. As regards statical change, the complete specification of a mechanical system is involved in its geometrical configuration and the function expressing its mechanical energy in terms thereof. Systems which have statical energy-functions of the same analytical form behave in corresponding ways, and can serve as models or representations of one another.
In systems where the state changes very slowly, allowing us to ignore reactions caused by motion changes, the conditions are much simpler. In these systems, whether they are at rest or moving steadily, energy depends only on the configuration, and we can determine its mathematical expression by measuring the work needed for a number of simple transformations. Once we find this, all the static relations of the system are automatically defined as well, and we can predict the outcomes of all other transformations. This development of such relations is typically classified as a separate area of physics called Energetics, a term first coined by W.J.M. Rankine; however, the key limitations of this method haven't always been recognized. For static changes, the complete description of a mechanical system relies on its geometric configuration and the function that expresses its mechanical energy in terms of that configuration. Systems with static energy functions of the same analytical form behave similarly and can act as models or representations of one another.
Extension to Thermal and Chemical Systems.—This dominant position of the principle of energy, in ordinary statical problems, has in recent times been extended to transformations involving change of physical state or chemical constitution as well as change of geometrical configuration. In this wider field we cannot assert that mechanical (or available) energy is never lost, for it may be degraded into thermal energy; but we can use the principle that on the other hand it can never spontaneously increase. If this were not so, cyclic processes might theoretically be arranged which would continue to supply mechanical power so long as energy of any kind remained in the system; whereas the irregular and uncontrollable character of the molecular motions and strains which constitute thermal energy, in combination with the vast number of the molecules, must place an effectual bar on their unlimited co-ordination. To establish a doctrine of energetics that shall form a sufficient foundation for a theory of the trend of chemical and physical change, we have, therefore, to impart precision to this motion of available energy.
Extension to Thermal and Chemical Systems.—The principle of energy, which has been central to ordinary static problems, has recently been applied to transformations that involve changes in physical state or chemical composition, as well as changes in geometric configuration. In this broader context, we can't say that mechanical (or available) energy is never lost, since it can be converted into thermal energy; however, we can apply the principle that it can never spontaneously increase. If that were the case, we could theoretically create cyclic processes that would keep supplying mechanical power as long as any type of energy remained in the system. However, the unpredictable and uncontrollable nature of the molecular motions and strains that make up thermal energy, combined with the sheer number of molecules, effectively prevents their limitless coordination. To develop a theory of energetics that provides a solid foundation for understanding the direction of chemical and physical changes, we need to clarify the movement of available energy.
Carnot’s Principle: Entropy.—The whole subject is involved in the new principle contributed to theoretical physics by Sadi Carnot in 1824, in which the far-reaching modern conception of cyclic processes was first scientifically developed. It was shown by Carnot, on the basis of certain axioms, whose theoretical foundations were subsequently corrected and strengthened by Clausius and Lord Kelvin, that a reversible mechanical process, working in a cycle by means of thermal transfers, which takes heat, say H1, into the material system at a given temperature T1, and delivers the part of it not utilized, say H2, at a lower given temperature T2, is more efficient, considered as a working engine, than any other such process, operating between the same two temperatures but not reversible, could be. This relation of inequality involves a definite law of equality, that the mechanical efficiencies of all reversible cyclic processes are the same, whatever be the nature of their operation or the material substances involved in them; that in fact the efficiency is a function solely of the two temperatures at which the cyclically working system takes in and gives out heat. These considerations constitute a fundamental general principle to which all possible slow reversible processes, so far as they concern matter in bulk, must conform in all their stages; its application is almost coextensive with the scope of general physics, the special kinetic theories in which inertia is involved, being excepted. (See Thermodynamics.) If the working system is an ideal gas-engine, in which a perfect gas (known from experience to be a possible state of matter) is passed through the cycle, and if temperature is measured from the absolute zero by the expansion of this gas, then simple direct calculation on the basis of the laws of ideal gases shows that H1/T1 = H2/T2; and as by the conservation of energy the work done is H1 − H2, it follows that the efficiency, measured as the ratio of the work done to the supply of heat, is 1 − T2/T1. If we change the sign of H1 and thus consider heat as positive when it is restored to the system as is H2, the fundamental equation becomes H1/T1 + H2/T2 = 0; and as any complex reversible working system may be considered as compounded in various ways of chains of elementary systems of this type, whose effects are additive, the general proposition follows, that in any reversible complete cyclic change which involves the taking in of heat by the system of which the amount is δH, when its temperature ranges between Tr and Tr + δT, the equation ΣδHr/Tr-0 holds good. Moreover, if the changes are not reversible, the proportion of the heat supply that is utilized for mechanical work will be smaller, so that more heat will be restored to the system, and ΣδHr/Tr or, as it may be expressed, ∫dH/T, must have a larger value, and must thus be positive. The first statement involves further, that for all reversible paths of change of the system from one state C to another state D, the value of ∫dH/T must be the same, because any one of these paths and any other one reversed would form a cycle; whereas for any irreversible path of change between the same states this integral must have a greater value (and so exceed the difference of entropies at the ends of the path). The definite quantity represented by this integral for a reversible path was introduced by Clausius in 1854 (also adumbrated by Kelvin’s investigations about the same time), and was named afterwards by him the increase of the entropy of the system in passing from the state C to the state D. This increase, being thus the same for the unlimited number of possible reversible paths involving independent variation of all its finite co-ordinates, along which the system can pass, can depend only on the terminal states. The entropy belonging to a given state is therefore a function of that state alone, irrespective of the manner in which it has been reached; and this is the justification of the assignment to it of a special name, connoting a property of the system depending on its actual condition and not on its previous history. Every reversible change in an isolated system thus maintains the entropy of that system unaltered; no possible spontaneous change can involve decrease of the entropy; while any defect of reversibility, arising from diffusion of matter or motion in the system, necessarily leads to increase of entropy. For a physical or chemical system only those changes are spontaneously possible which would lead to increase of the entropy; if the entropy is already a maximum for the given total energy, and so incapable of further continuous increase under the conditions imposed upon the system, there must be stable equilibrium.
Carnot’s Principle: Entropy.—The entire topic revolves around the new principle introduced to theoretical physics by Sadi Carnot in 1824, which was the first scientific development of the modern concept of cyclic processes. Carnot demonstrated, based on certain axioms, which were later refined and bolstered by Clausius and Lord Kelvin, that a reversible mechanical process that operates in a cycle through thermal transfers—taking in heat, defined as H1, at a certain temperature T1 and releasing the part not used, defined as H2, at a lower temperature T2—is more efficient, when viewed as a working engine, than any irreversible process operating between the same two temperatures. This inequality implies a definite equality: the mechanical efficiencies of all reversible cyclic processes are identical, regardless of their specific operations or the materials involved; in fact, efficiency solely depends on the two temperatures at which the cyclic system absorbs and releases heat. These insights form a fundamental general principle that all possible slow reversible processes, relating to bulk matter, must comply with throughout all their phases; its application nearly covers the realm of general physics, except for specialized kinetic theories involving inertia. (See Thermodynamics.) If the working system is an ideal gas engine, where a perfect gas (known to be a possible state of matter) goes through the cycle, and if temperature is measured from absolute zero using the expansion of this gas, simple calculations based on the laws of ideal gases show that H1/T1 = H2/T2; and since energy is conserved, the work done equals H1 − H2, leading to the conclusion that the efficiency, expressed as the ratio of work done to the heat supplied, is 1 − T2/T1. By changing the sign of H1 and thus viewing heat as positive when returned to the system, as is H2, the fundamental equation becomes H1/T1 + H2/T2 = 0; and since any complex reversible system can be regarded as a combination of various chains of elementary systems of this type, whose effects are additive, the general proposition follows that in any reversible complete cyclic change involving the intake of heat amounting to δH, when its temperature varies between Tr and Tr + δT, the equation ΣδHr/Tr-0 holds true. Moreover, if the changes are not reversible, the proportion of the heat supply used for mechanical work will be less, resulting in more heat returning to the system, and ΣδHr/Tr or,as it could be expressed, ∫dH/T, must have a larger value and thus be positive. The first statement also suggests that for all reversible change paths from one state C to another state D, the value of ∫dH/T must remain constant, because any one path and any other path in reverse would form a cycle; in contrast, for any irreversible path between the same states, this integral must exceed the difference in entropies at the endpoints of the path. The specific quantity indicated by this integral for a reversible path was introduced by Clausius in 1854 (also touched upon by Kelvin’s studies around the same time) and was later termed the increase of the entropy of the system transitioning from state C to state D. This increase is the same for the countless possible reversible paths that allow independent variation of all its finite coordinates, meaning it can only depend on the endpoint states. Thus, the entropy linked to a specific state is a function of that state alone, regardless of how it was reached; this is why it has been given a unique name, signifying a property of the system based on its current condition and not its past history. Every reversible change in an isolated system keeps that system's entropy unchanged; no spontaneous change can lead to a decrease in entropy, while any lack of reversibility, caused by the diffusion of matter or motion within the system, inevitably results in an increase in entropy. For a physical or chemical system, only those changes that result in increased entropy can occur spontaneously; if the entropy is already at a maximum given the total energy, thereby incapable of further continuous increase under the system's conditions, it indicates stable equilibrium.
This definite quantity belonging to a material system, its entropy φ, is thus concomitant with its energy E, which is also a definite function of its actual state by the law of conservation of energy; these, along with its temperature T, and the various co-ordinates expressing its geometrical configuration and its physical and chemical constitution, are the quantities with which the thermodynamics of the system deals. That branch of science develops the consequences involved in just two principles: (i.) that the energy of every isolated system is constant, and (ii.) that its entropy can never diminish; any complication that may be involved arises from complexity in the systems to which these two laws have to be applied.
This specific amount associated with a material system, its entropy φ, is linked to its energy E, which is also a specific function of its current state according to the law of conservation of energy; these, along with its temperature T and the various coordinates that define its geometric configuration and its physical and chemical makeup, are the factors that thermodynamics focuses on. This branch of science explores the implications of just two principles: (i.) that the energy of every isolated system remains constant, and (ii.) that its entropy can never decrease; any complications that arise come from the complexity of the systems to which these two laws must be applied.
The General Thermodynamic Equation.—When any physical or chemical system undergoes an infinitesimal change of state, we have δE = δH + δU, where δH is the energy that has been acquired as heat from sources extraneous to the system during the change, and δU is the energy that has been imparted by reversible agencies such as mechanical or electric work. It is, however, not usually possible to discriminate permanently between heat acquired and work imparted, for (unless for isothermal transformations) neither δH nor δU is the exact differential of a function of the constitution of the system and so independent of its previous history, although their sum δE is such; but we can utilize the fact that δH is equal to Tδφ where δφ is such, as has just been seen. Thus E and φ represent properties of the system which, along with 392 temperature, pressure and other independent data specifying its constitution, must form the variables of an analytical exposition. We have, therefore, to substitute Tδφ for δH; also the change of internal energy is determined by the change of constitution, involving a differential relation of type
The General Thermodynamic Equation.—When any physical or chemical system experiences a tiny change in state, we have δE = δH + δU, where δH is the energy gained as heat from external sources during the change, and δU is the energy added by reversible actions like mechanical or electric work. However, it’s usually impossible to permanently distinguish between the heat gained and the work done, because (unless it’s an isothermal change) neither δH nor δU is an exact differential of a function related to the system’s makeup that is independent of its past history, although their total δE is. But we can use the fact that δH equals Tδφ, where δφ is defined as previously shown. Thus E and φ represent properties of the system that, along with temperature, pressure, and other independent variables specifying its configuration, must be included in an analytical discussion. Therefore, we need to replace δH with Tδφ; also, the change in internal energy is determined by the change in configuration, which involves a differential relationship of type
δU = −pδv + δW + μ1δm1 + μ2δm2 + ... + μnδmn,
δU = −pδv + δW + μ1δm1 + μ2δm2 + ... + μnδmn,
when the system consists of an intimate mixture (solution) of masses m1, m2, ... mn of given constituents, which differ physically or chemically but may be partially transformable into each other by chemical or physical action during the changes under consideration, the whole being of volume v and under extraneous pressure p, while W is potential energy arising from physical forces such as those of gravity, capillarity, &c. The variables m1, m2, ... mn may not be all independent; for example, if the system were chloride of ammonium gas existing along with its gaseous products of dissociation, hydrochloric acid and ammonia, only one of the three masses would be independently variable. The sufficient number of these variables (independent components) together with two other variables, which may be v and T, or v and φ, specifies and determines the state of the system, considered as matter in bulk, at each instant. It is usual to include δW in μ1δm1 + ...; in all cases where this is possible the single equation
when the system consists of an intimate mixture (solution) of masses m1, m2, ... mn of given components, which differ physically or chemically but can be partially transformed into each other through chemical or physical action during the changes being analyzed, the entire volume is v and under external pressure p, while W is the potential energy resulting from physical forces such as gravity, capillarity, etc. The variables m1, m2, ... mn may not all be independent; for instance, if the system includes ammonium chloride gas along with its gaseous dissociation products, hydrochloric acid, and ammonia, only one of the three masses would be independently variable. The appropriate number of these variables (independent components) alongside two other variables, which could be v and T, or v and φ, specifies and determines the state of the system, considered as matter in bulk, at any moment. It's common to include δW in μ1δm1 + ...; in all instances where this is possible the single equation
δE = Tδφ − pδv + μ1δm1 + μ2δm2 + ... + μnδmn
δE = Tδφ − pδv + μ1δm1 + μ2δm2 + ... + μnδmn
thus expresses the complete variation of the energy-function E arising from change of state; and when the part involving the n constitutive differentials has been expressed in terms of the number of them that are really independent, this equation by itself becomes the unique expression of all the thermodynamic relations of the system. These are in fact the various relations ensuring that the right-hand side is an exact differential, and are of the type of reciprocal relations such as dμr/dφ = dT/dmr.
thus expresses the complete variation of the energy function E resulting from a change of state; and once the part involving the n constitutive differentials has been expressed in terms of the number of truly independent ones, this equation itself becomes the unique representation of all the thermodynamic relationships of the system. These are, in fact, the various relationships that ensure the right-hand side is an exact differential, and they are reciprocal relations like dμr/dφ = dT/dmr.
The condition that the state of the system be one of stable equilibrium is that δφ, the variation of entropy, be negative for all formally imaginable infinitesimal transformations which make δE vanish; for as δφ cannot actually be negative for any spontaneous variation, none of these transformations can then occur. From the form of the equation, this condition is the same as that δE − Tδφ must be positive for all possible variations of state of the system as above defined in terms of co-ordinates representing its constitution in bulk, without restriction.
The requirement for the system to be in a state of stable equilibrium is that δφ, the change in entropy, must be negative for all theoretically possible infinitesimal transformations that make δE disappear; because δφ cannot actually be negative for any spontaneous change, none of these transformations can occur. From the equation's structure, this requirement is equivalent to δE − Tδφ needing to be positive for all possible variations of the state of the system as defined in terms of coordinates representing its overall composition, without any limitations.
We can change one of the independent variables expressing the state of the system from φ to T by subtracting δ(φT) from both sides of the equation of variation: then
We can change one of the independent variables that represent the state of the system from φ to T by subtracting δ(φT) from both sides of the equation of variation: then
δ(E − Tφ) = −φδT − pδv + μ1δm1 + ... + μnδmn.
δ(E − Tφ) = −φδT − pδv + μ1δm1 + ... + μnδmn.
It follows that for isothermal changes, i.e. those for which δT is maintained null by an environment at constant temperature, the condition of stable equilibrium is that the function E − Tφ shall be a minimum. If the system is subject to an external pressure p, which as well as the temperature is imposed constant from without and thus incapable of variation through internal changes, the condition of stable equilibrium is similarly that E − Tφ + pv shall be a minimum.
It follows that for isothermal changes, i.e. those where δT remains at zero due to an environment at a constant temperature, the requirement for stable equilibrium is that the function E − Tφ must be at a minimum. If the system is under an external pressure p, which, along with the temperature, is kept constant from outside and cannot change due to internal changes, the requirement for stable equilibrium is similarly that E − Tφ + pv must be at a minimum.
A chemical system maintained at constant temperature by communication of heat from its environment may thus have several states of stable equilibrium corresponding to different minima of the function here considered, just as there may be several minima of elevation on a landscape, one at the bottom of each depression; in fact, this analogy, when extended to space of n dimensions, exactly fits the case. If the system is sufficiently disturbed, for example, by electric shock, it may pass over (explosively) from a higher to a lower minimum, but never (without compensation from outside) in the opposite direction. The former passage, moreover, is often effected by introducing a new substance into the system; sometimes that substance is recovered unaltered at the end of the process, and then its action is said to be purely catalytic; its presence modifies the form of the function E − Tφ so as to obliterate the ridge between the two equilibrium states in the graphical representation.
A chemical system kept at a constant temperature by exchanging heat with its surroundings can have multiple stable states of equilibrium, each corresponding to different low points of the function being discussed, just like there can be several low points in a landscape, one at the bottom of each valley. In fact, this analogy holds true even when extended to n-dimensional space. If the system is significantly disturbed, for example, by an electric shock, it can make an explosive transition from a higher to a lower minimum, but it will never spontaneously go in the opposite direction without external input. Additionally, this transition is often achieved by adding a new substance to the system; sometimes that substance comes out unchanged at the end of the process, and in that case, its effect is called purely catalytic; its presence alters the form of the function E − Tφ to eliminate the barrier between the two equilibrium states in the graphical representation.
There are systems in which the equilibrium states are but very slightly dependent on temperature and pressure within wide limits, outside which reaction takes place. Thus while there are cases in which a state of mobile dissociation exists in the system which changes continuously as a function of these variables, there are others in which change does not sensibly occur at all until a certain temperature of reaction is attained, after which it proceeds very rapidly owing to the heat developed, and the system soon becomes sensibly permanent in a transformed phase by completion of the reaction. In some cases of this latter type the cause of the delay in starting lies possibly in passive resistance to change, of the nature of viscosity or friction, which is competent to convert an unstable mechanical equilibrium into a moderately stable one; but in most such reactions there seems to be no exact equilibrium at any temperature, short of the ultimate state of dissipated energy in which the reaction is completed, although the velocity of reaction is found to diminish exponentially with change of temperature, and thus becomes insignificant at a small interval from the temperature of pronounced activity.
There are systems where the equilibrium states are only slightly affected by temperature and pressure across a wide range, and outside of that, reactions occur. For example, some systems have a state of mobile dissociation that continuously changes with these variables, while others remain relatively unchanged until a certain temperature of reaction is reached. Once that temperature is achieved, the reaction happens quickly due to the heat generated, and the system soon becomes stable in a transformed phase as the reaction completes. In some of these cases, the delay in starting may be due to passive resistance to change, similar to viscosity or friction, which can turn an unstable mechanical equilibrium into a moderately stable one. However, in most reactions of this kind, there doesn't seem to be a precise equilibrium at any temperature, other than the final state of dissipated energy when the reaction is finished. Yet, the rate of reaction typically slows down exponentially with changes in temperature, becoming negligible just a little below the temperature of significant activity.
Free Energy.—The quantity E − Tφ thus plays the same fundamental part in the thermal statics of general chemical systems at uniform temperature that the potential energy plays in the statics of mechanical systems of unchanging constitution. It is a function of the geometrical co-ordinates, the physical and chemical constitution, and the temperature of the system, which determines the conditions of stable equilibrium at each temperature; it is, in fact, the potential energy generalized so as to include temperature, and thus be a single function relating to each temperature but at the same time affording a basis of connexion between the properties of the system at different temperatures. It has been called the free energy of the system by Helmholtz, for it is the part of the energy whose variation is connected with changes in the bodily structure of the system represented by the variables m1, m2, ... mn, and not with the irregular molecular motions represented by heat, so that it can take part freely in physical transformations. Yet this holds good only subject to the condition that the temperature is not varied; it has been seen above that for the more general variation neither δH nor δU is an exact differential, and no line of separation can be drawn between thermal and mechanical energies.
Free Energy.—The quantity E − Tφ plays a crucial role in the thermal statics of chemical systems at a constant temperature, similar to how potential energy functions in the statics of mechanical systems with a stable constitution. It depends on the geometry, physical and chemical makeup, and temperature of the system, determining the conditions for stable equilibrium at each temperature. Essentially, it generalizes potential energy by incorporating temperature, providing a unified function for each temperature while establishing a connection between the system's properties at different temperatures. Helmholtz referred to it as the free energy of the system because it represents the part of the energy that changes with adjustments in the physical structure of the system, indicated by the variables m1, m2, ... mn, rather than with the random molecular motions associated with heat, allowing it to actively participate in physical transformations. However, this is only true when the temperature remains constant; as discussed earlier, for more general variations, neither δH nor δU acts as an exact differential, and no clear line can be drawn between thermal and mechanical energies.
The study of the evolution of ideas in this, the most abstract branch of modern mathematical physics, is rendered difficult in the manner of most purely philosophical subjects by the variety of terminology, much of it only partially appropriate, that has been employed to express the fundamental principles by different investigators and at different stages of the development. Attentive examination will show, what is indeed hardly surprising, that the principles of the theory of free energy of Gibbs and Helmholtz had been already grasped and exemplified by Lord Kelvin in the very early days of the subject (see the paper “On the Thermoelastic and Thermomagnetic Properties of Matter, Part I.” Quarterly Journal of Mathematics, No. 1, April 1855; reprinted in Phil. Mag., January 1878, and in Math. and Phys. Papers, vol. i. pp. 291, seq.). Thus the striking new advance contained in the more modern work of J. Willard Gibbs (1875-1877) and of Helmholtz (1882) was rather the sustained general application of these ideas to chemical systems, such as the galvanic cell and dissociating gaseous systems, and in general fashion to heterogeneous concomitant phases. The fundamental paper of Kelvin connecting the electromotive force of the cell with the energy of chemical transformation is of date 1851, some years before the distinction between free energy and total energy had definitely crystallized out; and, possibly satisfied with the approximate exactness of his imperfect formula when applied to a Daniell’s cell (infra), and deterred by absence of experimental data, he did not return to the subject. In 1852 he briefly announced (Proc. Roy. Soc. Edin.) the principle of the dissipation of mechanical (or available) energy, including the necessity of compensation elsewhere when restoration occurs, in the form that “any restoration of mechanical energy, without more than an equivalent of dissipation, is impossible”—probably even in vital activity; but a sufficient specification of available energy (cf. infra) was not then developed. In the paper above referred to, where this was done, and illustrated by full application to solid elastic systems, the total energy is represented by c and is named 393 “the intrinsic energy,” the energy taken in during an isothermal transformation is represented by e, of which H is taken in as heat, while the remainder, the change of free (or mechanical or available) energy of the system is the unnamed quantity denoted by the symbol w, which is “the work done by the applied forces” at uniform temperature. It is pointed out that it is w and not e that is the potential energy-function for isothermal change, of which the form can be determined directly by dynamical and physical experiment, and from which alone the criteria of equilibrium and stress are to be derived—simply for the reason that for all reversible paths at constant temperature between the same terminal configurations, there must, by Carnot’s principle, be the same gain or loss of heat. And a system of formulae are given (5) to (11)—Ex. gr. e = w − t dw/dt + J ∫ sdt for finding the total energy e for any temperature t when w and the thermal capacity s of the system, in a standard state, have thus been ascertained, and another for establishing connexion between the form of w for one temperature and its form for adjacent temperatures—which are identical with those developed by Helmholtz long afterwards, in 1882, except that the entropy appears only as an unnamed integral. The progress of physical science is formally identified with the exploration of this function w for physical systems, with continually increasing exactness and range—except where pure kinetic considerations prevail, in which cases the wider Hamiltonian dynamical formulation is fundamental. Another aspect of the matter will be developed below.
The study of how ideas have evolved in this highly abstract area of modern mathematical physics is challenging, much like other purely philosophical topics, due to the diverse terminology used. Many terms are only partially fitting and have been applied in different ways by various researchers at different points in the field's development. A close look will reveal—though this is hardly unexpected—that the principles behind Gibbs and Helmholtz's theory of free energy had already been understood and illustrated by Lord Kelvin in the early days of the field (see the paper “On the Thermoelastic and Thermomagnetic Properties of Matter, Part I.” Quarterly Journal of Mathematics, No. 1, April 1855; reprinted in Phil. Mag., January 1878, and in Math. and Phys. Papers, vol. i. pp. 291, seq.). The significant new insight in the later works of J. Willard Gibbs (1875-1877) and Helmholtz (1882) was mainly the broader application of these ideas to chemical systems like galvanic cells and dissociating gaseous systems, as well as generally to heterogeneous phases. Kelvin’s key paper linking the electromotive force of the cell to the energy of chemical change dates back to 1851, several years before the distinction between free energy and total energy was clearly defined. Possibly content with the approximate accuracy of his incomplete formula when applied to a Daniell’s cell (infra), and hindered by a lack of experimental data, he did not pursue the topic further. In 1852, he briefly announced (Proc. Roy. Soc. Edin.) the principle of mechanical (or available) energy dissipation, stating that “any restoration of mechanical energy, without more than an equivalent of dissipation, is impossible”—likely even in biological processes; however, a thorough understanding of available energy (cf. infra) had not yet been developed. In the previously mentioned paper, this was addressed and illustrated through a comprehensive application to solid elastic systems, where total energy is represented by c and referred to as “the intrinsic energy.” The energy absorbed during an isothermal transformation is shown as e, with H as heat absorbed, whereas the change in free (or mechanical or available) energy of the system is represented by the unnamed quantity w, which indicates “the work done by the applied forces” at a uniform temperature. It is clarified that w, not e, is the potential energy function for isothermal changes, which can be directly determined through dynamic and physical experiments, and from which the criteria for equilibrium and stress should be derived—simply because for all reversible paths at constant temperature between the same starting and ending states, there must be, per Carnot’s principle, the same heat gain or loss. A set of formulas are provided (5) to (11)—for example, e = w − t dw/dt + J ∫ sdt to find the total energy e at any temperature t, once w and the thermal capacity s of the system in a standard state are known, as well as another for connecting the w forms at one temperature to those at nearby temperatures—which are identical to those created by Helmholtz later on in 1882, except that entropy appears only as an unnamed integral. The advancement of physical science is formally linked to the exploration of the function w for physical systems, with ongoing improvements in accuracy and scope—except in cases where purely kinetic considerations dominate, where the broader Hamiltonian dynamic formulation is essential. Another aspect of this will be explored below.
A somewhat different procedure, in terms of entropy as fundamental, has been adopted and developed by Planck. In an isolated system the trend of change must be in the direction which increases the entropy φ, by Clausius’ form of the principle. But in experiment it is a system at constant temperature rather than an adiabatic one that usually is involved; this can be attained formally by including in the isolated system (cf. infra) a source of heat at that temperature and of unlimited capacity, when the energy of the original system increases by δE this source must give up heat of amount δE, and its entropy therefore diminishes δE/T. Thus for the original system maintained at constant temperature T it is δφ − δE/T that must always be positive in spontaneous change, which is the same criterion as was reached above. Reference may also be made to H.A. Lorentz’s Collected Scientific Papers, part i.
A slightly different approach, focusing on entropy as fundamental, has been developed by Planck. In an isolated system, the direction of change must be towards increasing entropy φ, according to Clausius’ principle. However, experiments typically involve a system at constant temperature instead of an adiabatic one; this can be achieved by formally adding a heat source with unlimited capacity at that temperature to the isolated system (see infra). When the energy of the original system increases by δE, this source must release an amount of heat equal to δE, leading to a decrease in its entropy of δE/T. Therefore, for the original system kept at constant temperature T, it’s δφ − δE/T that must always be positive during spontaneous change, which matches the criterion reached earlier. Also, refer to H.A. Lorentz’s Collected Scientific Papers, part i.
A striking anticipation, almost contemporaneous, of Gibbs’s thermodynamic potential theory (infra) was made by Clerk Maxwell in connexion with the discussion of Andrews’s experiments on the critical temperature of mixed gases, in a letter published in Sir G.G. Stokes’s Scientific Correspondence (vol. ii. p. 34).
A notable anticipation, almost simultaneous, of Gibbs’s thermodynamic potential theory (infra) was made by Clerk Maxwell in relation to the discussion of Andrews’s experiments on the critical temperature of mixed gases, in a letter published in Sir G.G. Stokes’s Scientific Correspondence (vol. ii. p. 34).
Available Energy.—The same quantity φ, which Clausius named the entropy, arose in various ways in the early development of the subject, in the train of ideas of Rankine and Kelvin relating to the expression of the available energy A of the material system. Suppose there were accessible an auxiliary system containing an unlimited quantity of heat at absolute temperature T0, forming a condenser into which heat can be discharged from the working system, or from which it may be recovered at that temperature: we proceed to find how much of the heat of our system is available for transformation into mechanical work, in a process which reduces the whole system to the temperature of this condenser. Provided the process of reduction is performed reversibly, it is immaterial, by Carnot’s principle, in what manner it is effected: thus in following it out in detail we can consider each elementary quantity of heat δH removed from the system as set aside at its actual temperature between T and T + δT for the production of mechanical work δW and the residue of it δH0 as directly discharged into the condenser at T0. The principle of Carnot gives δH/T = δH0/T0, so that the portion of the heat δH that is not available for work is δH0, equal to T0δH/T. In the whole process the part not available in connexion with the condenser at T0 is therefore T0 ∫ δH/T. This quantity must be the same whatever reversible process is employed: thus, for example, we may first transform the system reversibly from the state C to the state D, and then from the state D to the final state of uniform temperature T0. It follows that the value of T0 ∫ dH/T, representing the heat degraded, is the same along all reversible paths of transformation from the state C to the state D; so that the function ∫ dH/T is the excess of a definite quantity φ connected with the system in the former state as compared with the latter.
Available Energy.—The same quantity φ, which Clausius referred to as entropy, emerged in various ways during the early development of the subject, following the ideas of Rankine and Kelvin related to the expression of the available energy A of the material system. Suppose we had access to an auxiliary system containing an unlimited amount of heat at absolute temperature T0, functioning as a condenser into which heat can be released from the working system, or from which it can be recovered at that temperature: we will determine how much of the heat from our system is available for conversion into mechanical work, in a process that brings the entire system down to the temperature of this condenser. As long as the reduction process is carried out reversibly, it doesn't matter, according to Carnot’s principle, how it is done: thus, when detailing this, we can treat each small amount of heat δH taken from the system as being set aside at its actual temperature between T and T + δT for the purpose of producing mechanical work δW, while the remaining heat δH0 is directly discharged into the condenser at T0. Carnot’s principle tells us δH/T = δH0/T0, which means that the portion of heat δH that is not available for work is δH0, equal to T0δH/T. Throughout the entire process, the part that is not available in relation to the condenser at T0 is therefore T0 ∫ δH/T. This quantity must remain constant regardless of the reversible process used: for instance, we might first transform the system reversibly from state C to state D, and then from state D to the final state with uniform temperature T0. Thus, we find that the value of T0 ∫ dH/T, which represents the degraded heat, is the same along all reversible paths of transformation from state C to state D; therefore, the function ∫ dH/T is the difference of a specific quantity φ related to the system in the initial state compared to the final state.
It is usual to change the law of sign of δH so that gain of heat by the system is reckoned positive; then, relative to a condenser of unlimited capacity at T0, the state C contains more mechanically available energy than the state D by the amount EC − ED + T0 ∫ dH/T, that is, by EC − ED − T0(φC − φD). In this way the existence of an entropy function with a definite value for each state of the system is again seen to be the direct analytical equivalent of Carnot’s axiom that no process can be more efficient than a reversible process between the same initial and final states. The name motivity of a system was proposed by Lord Kelvin in 1879 for this conception of available energy. It is here specified as relative to a condenser of unlimited capacity at an assigned temperature T0: some such specification is necessary to the definition; in fact, if T0 were the absolute zero, all the energy would be mechanically available.
It’s common to adjust the sign of δH so that the system gaining heat is considered positive. In relation to a condenser with infinite capacity at T0, state C has more mechanically available energy than state D by the amount EC − ED + T0 ∫ dH/T, which means EC − ED − T0(φC − φD). This demonstrates that having an entropy function with a specific value for each state of the system is analytically equivalent to Carnot’s principle that no process can be more efficient than a reversible process between the same starting and ending states. The term motivity for this concept of available energy was suggested by Lord Kelvin in 1879. It is specified relative to a condenser with infinite capacity at a set temperature T0: such a specification is essential for the definition; in fact, if T0 were absolute zero, all energy would be mechanically available.
But we can obtain an intrinsically different and self-contained comparison of the available energies in a system in two different states at different temperatures, by ascertaining how much energy would be dissipated in each in a reduction to the same standard state of the system itself, at a standard temperature T0. We have only to reverse the operation, and change back this standard state to each of the others in turn. This will involve abstractions of heat δH0 from the various portions of the system in the standard state, and returns of δH to the state at T0; if this return were δH0T/T0 instead of δH, there would be no loss of availability in the direct process; hence there is actual dissipation δH − δH0T/T0, that is T(δφ − δφ0). On passing from state 1 to state 2 through this standard state 0 the difference of these dissipations will represent the energy of the system that has become unavailable. Thus in this sense E − Tφ + Tφ0 + const. represents for each state the amount of energy that is available; but instead of implying an unlimited source of heat at the standard temperature T0, it implies that there is no extraneous source. The available energy thus defined differs from E − Tφ, the free energy of Helmholtz, or the work function of the applied forces of Kelvin, which involves no reference to any standard state, by a simple linear function of the temperature alone which is immaterial as regards its applications.
But we can get a completely different and self-contained comparison of the available energies in a system in two different states at different temperatures by finding out how much energy would be lost in each if we brought them down to the same standard state of the system itself, at a standard temperature T0. All we need to do is reverse the process and convert this standard state back to each of the others one at a time. This will involve taking heat δH0 from the different parts of the system in the standard state and returning δH to the state at T0; if this return were δH0T/T0 instead of δH, there wouldn't be any loss of availability in the direct process. Therefore, there is actual dissipation δH − δH0T/T0, which means T(δφ − δφ0). When moving from state 1 to state 2 through this standard state 0, the difference in these dissipations will show the energy of the system that has become unavailable. Thus, in this context, E − Tφ + Tφ0 + const. represents the amount of energy that is available in each state; but instead of suggesting an unlimited source of heat at the standard temperature T0, it indicates that there is no external source. The available energy as defined here is different from E − Tφ, the free energy of Helmholtz, or the work function of the applied forces of Kelvin, which does not reference any standard state, by a simple linear function of temperature alone that doesn't affect its applications.
The determination of the available mechanical energy arising from differences of temperature between the parts of the same system is a more complex problem, because it involves a determination of the common temperature to which reversible processes will ultimately reduce them; for the simple case in which no changes of state occur the solution was given by Lord Kelvin in 1853, in connexion with the above train of ideas (cf. Tait’s Thermodynamics, §179). In the present exposition the system is sensibly in equilibrium at each stage, so that its temperature T is always uniform throughout; isolated portions at different temperatures would be treated as different systems.
The determination of the available mechanical energy due to temperature differences within the same system is a more complicated issue, as it requires finding the common temperature to which reversible processes will eventually lead; in the simpler scenario where there are no changes in state, Lord Kelvin provided the solution in 1853, related to the above concepts (see Tait’s Thermodynamics, §179). In this discussion, the system is essentially in equilibrium at each stage, which means its temperature T is consistently uniform throughout; isolated parts at different temperatures would be considered separate systems.
Thermodynamic Potentials.—We have now to develop the relations involved in the general equation (1) of thermodynamics. Suppose the material system includes two coexistent states or phases, with opportunity for free interchange of constituents—for example, a salt solution and the aqueous vapour in equilibrium with it. Then in equilibrium a slight transfer δm of the water-substance of mass mr constituting the vapour, into the water-substance of mass ms, existing in the solution, should not produce any alteration of the first order in δE − Tδφ; therefore μr must be equal to μs. The quantity μr is called by Willard Gibbs the potential of the corresponding substance of mass mr; it may be defined as its marginal available energy per unit mass at the given temperature. If then a system involves in this way coexistent phases which remain permanently separate, the potentials of any constituent must be the same in all of them in which that constituent exists, for otherwise it would tend to pass 394 from the phases in which its potential is higher to those in which it is lower. If the constituent is non-existent in any phase, its potential when in that phase would have to be higher than in the others in which it is actually present; but as the potential increases logarithmically when the density of the constituent is indefinitely diminished, this condition is automatically satisfied—or, more strictly, the constitutent cannot be entirely absent, but the presence of the merest trace will suffice to satisfy the condition of equality of potential. When the action of the force of gravity is taken into account, the potential of each constituent must include the gravitational potential gh; in the equilibrium state the total potential of each constituent, including this part, must be the same throughout all parts of the system into which it is freely mobile. An example is Dalton’s law of the independent distributions of the gases in the atmosphere, if it were in a state of rest. A similar statement applies to other forms of mechanical potential energy arising from actions at a distance.
Thermodynamic Potentials.—We now need to explore the relationships involved in the general equation (1) of thermodynamics. Let’s consider a material system that has two coexisting states or phases, allowing for free interchange of components—for example, a salt solution and the water vapor in equilibrium with it. In equilibrium, a slight transfer δm of the water in the mass mr that makes up the vapor to the water in mass ms in the solution should not cause any first-order change in δE − Tδφ; therefore, μr must equal μs. Willard Gibbs refers to the quantity μr as the potential of the corresponding substance with mass mr; it can be defined as the marginal available energy per unit mass at the given temperature. If a system has coexisting phases that remain permanently separate, the potentials of any constituent must be the same in all phases where that constituent exists; otherwise, it would naturally move from the phases where its potential is higher to those where it is lower. If the constituent is absent in any phase, its potential in that phase would need to be higher than in the others where it is present; however, since the potential increases logarithmically as the density of the constituent decreases indefinitely, this condition is automatically fulfilled—or, more precisely, the constituent cannot be completely absent, but even a trace amount will be enough to ensure the equality of potential. When we consider the effect of gravity, the potential of each constituent must include the gravitational potential gh; in the equilibrium state, the total potential of each constituent, including this component, must be the same throughout all parts of the system where it is freely mobile. An example of this is Dalton’s law regarding the independent distributions of gases in the atmosphere, assuming it is at rest. A similar principle applies to other forms of mechanical potential energy resulting from actions at a distance.
When a slight constitutive change occurs in a galvanic element at given temperature, producing available energy of electric current, in a reversible manner and isothermally, at the expense of chemical energy, it is the free energy of the system E − Tφ, not its total intrinsic energy, whose value must be conserved during the process. Thus the electromotive force is equal to the change of this free energy per electrochemical equivalent of reaction in the cell. This proposition, developed by Gibbs and later by Helmholtz, modifies the earlier one of Kelvin—which tacitly assumed all the energy of reaction to be available—except in the cases such as that of a Daniell’s cell, in which the magnitude of the electromotive force does not depend sensibly on the temperature.
When a small change happens in a galvanic cell at a specific temperature, causing it to produce electric current in a reversible and isothermal way, using chemical energy, it’s the free energy of the system E − Tφ, rather than its total intrinsic energy, that needs to be conserved during the process. Therefore, the electromotive force is equal to the change in this free energy per electrochemical equivalent of the reaction in the cell. This idea, developed by Gibbs and later by Helmholtz, revises the earlier concept by Kelvin, which assumed all the energy from the reaction was available—except in cases like Daniell’s cell, where the electromotive force doesn’t significantly depend on temperature.
The effects produced on electromotive forces by difference of concentrations in dilute solutions can thus be accounted for and traced out, from the knowledge of the form of the free energy for such cases; as also the effects of pressure in the case of gas batteries. The free energy does not sensibly depend on whether the substance is solid or fused—for the two states are in equilibrium at the temperature of fusion—though the total energy differs in these two cases by the heat of fusion; for this reason, as Gibbs pointed out, voltaic potential-differences are the same for the fused as for the solid state of the substances concerned.
The effects of concentration differences in dilute solutions on electromotive forces can be understood and analyzed based on the free energy for these situations, as well as the effects of pressure in gas batteries. The free energy doesn't significantly change whether the substance is solid or melted, since both states are in equilibrium at the melting temperature, although the total energy varies between these two states due to the heat of fusion. For this reason, as Gibbs noted, the voltage differences are the same for both the melted and solid states of the substances involved.
Relations involving Constitution only.—The potential of a component in a given solution can depend only on the temperature and pressure of the solution, and the densities of the various components, including itself; as no distance-actions are usually involved in chemical physics, it will not depend on the aggregate masses present. The example above mentioned, of two coexistent phases liquid and vapour, indicates that there may thus be relations between the constitutions of the phases present in a chemical system which do not involve their total masses. These are developed in a very direct manner in Willard Gibbs’s original procedure. In so far as attractions at a distance (a uniform force such as gravity being excepted) and capillary actions at the interfaces between the phases are inoperative, the fundamental equation (1) can be integrated. Increasing the volume k times, and all the masses to the same extent—in fact, placing alongside each other k identical systems at the same temperature and pressure—will increase φ and E in the same ratio k; thus E must be a homogeneous function of the first degree of the independent variables φ, v, m1, ..., mn, and therefore by Euler’s theorem relating to such functions
Relations involving Constitution only.—The potential of a component in a given solution depends solely on the solution's temperature and pressure, as well as the densities of the different components, including itself. Since chemical physics typically doesn't involve distance effects, it won't depend on the total masses present. The earlier example of two coexisting phases, liquid and vapor, shows that there can be relationships between the constitutions of the phases in a chemical system that don't involve their total masses. Willard Gibbs's original method illustrates this clearly. As long as distance attractions (except uniform forces like gravity) and capillary actions at the interfaces between the phases are negligible, the fundamental equation (1) can be integrated. Increasing the volume by a factor of k and scaling all the masses accordingly—essentially placing k identical systems side by side at the same temperature and pressure—will increase φ and E in the same proportion k; therefore, E must be a homogeneous function of the first degree of the independent variables φ, v, m1, ..., mn, which is consistent with Euler’s theorem related to such functions.
E = Tφ − pv + μ1m1 + ... + μnmn.
E = Tφ − pv + μ1m1 + ... + μnmn.
This integral equation merely expresses the additive character of the energies and entropies of adjacent portions of the system at uniform temperature, and thus depends only on the absence of sensible physical action directly across finite distances. If we form from it the expression for the complete differential δE, and subtract (1), there remains the relation
This integral equation simply demonstrates the additive nature of the energies and entropies of neighboring parts of the system at a consistent temperature, and it only relies on the lack of noticeable physical influence over finite distances. If we create the complete differential δE from this and subtract (1), we are left with the relationship
0 = φδT − vδp + m1δμ1 + ... + mnδμn.
0 = φδT − vδp + m1δμ1 + ... + mnδμn.
This implies that in each phase the change of pressure depends on and is determined by the changes in T, μ1, ... μn alone; as we know beforehand that a physical property like pressure is an analytical function of the state of the system, it is therefore a function of these n + 1 quantities. When they are all independently variable, the densities of the various constituents and of the entropy in the phase are expressed by the partial fluxions of p with respect to them: thus
This means that in each phase, the change in pressure relies on and is defined by the changes in T, μ1, ... μn alone. Since we already know that a physical property like pressure is a function of the system's state, it is a function of these n + 1 quantities. When they can all change independently, the densities of the different components and the entropy in the phase are represented by the partial derivatives of p in relation to them: thus
φ | = | dp | , | mr | = | dp | . |
v | dT | v | dμr |
But when, as in the case above referred to of chloride of ammonium gas existing partially dissociated along with its constituents, the masses are not independent, necessary linear relations, furnished by the laws of definite combining proportions, subsist between the partial fluxions, and the form of the function which expresses p is thus restricted, in a manner which is easily expressible in each special case.
But when, as in the case mentioned earlier where ammonium chloride gas is partially dissociated along with its components, the quantities are not independent. There are necessary linear relationships, provided by the laws of definite combining proportions, between the partial derivatives, and the form of the function that expresses p is therefore limited in a way that can be easily described in each specific case.
This proposition that the pressure in any phase is a function of the temperature and of the potentials of the independent constituents, thus appears as a consequence of Carnot’s axiom combined with the energy principle and the absence of effective actions at a distance. It shows that at a given temperature and pressure the potentials are not all independent, that there is a necessary relation connecting them. This is the equation of state or constitution of the phase, whose existence forms one mode of expression of Carnot’s principle, and in which all the properties of the phase are involved and can thence be derived by simple differentiation.
This idea that the pressure in any phase depends on the temperature and the potentials of the independent components arises from Carnot’s principle combined with the energy principle and the lack of effective actions at a distance. It shows that at a specific temperature and pressure, the potentials are not entirely independent; there’s an essential relationship between them. This is the equation of state or constitution of the phase, which expresses one aspect of Carnot’s principle, and within it, all the properties of the phase are included and can be derived through simple differentiation.
The Phase Rule.—When the material system contains only a single phase, the number of independent variations, in addition to change of temperature and pressure, that can spontaneously occur in its constitution is thus one less than the number of its independent constituents. But where several phases coexist in contact in the same system, the number of possible independent variations may be much smaller. The present independent variables μ1, ..., μn are specially appropriate in this problem, because each of them has the same value in all the phases. Now each phase has its own characteristic equation, giving a relation between δp, δT, and δμ1, ... δμn, or such of the latter as are independent; if r phases coexist, there are r such relations; hence the number of possible independent variations, including those of v and T, is reduced to m − r + 2, where m is the number of independently variable chemical constituents which the system contains. This number of degrees of constitutive freedom cannot be negative; therefore the number of possible phases that can coexist alongside each other cannot exceed m + 2. If m + 2 phases actually coexist, there is no variable quantity in the system, thus the temperature and pressure and constitutions of the phases are all determined; such is the triple point at which ice, water and vapour exist in presence of each other. If there are m + 1 coexistent phases, the system can vary in one respect only; for example, at any temperature of water-substance different from the triple point two phases only, say liquid and vapour, or liquid and solid, coexist, and the pressure is definite, as also are the densities and potentials of the components. Finally, when but one phase, say water, is present, both pressure and temperature can vary independently. The first example illustrates the case of systems, physical or chemical, in which there is only one possible state of equilibrium, forming a point of transition between different constitutions; in the second type each temperature has its own completely determined state of equilibrium; in other cases the constitution in the equilibrium state is indeterminate as regards the corresponding number of degrees of freedom. By aid of this phase rule of Gibbs the number of different chemical substances actually interacting in a given complex system can be determined from observation of the degree of spontaneous variation which it exhibits; the rule thus lies at the foundation of the modern subject of chemical equilibrium and continuous chemical change in mixtures or alloys, and in this connexion it has been widely applied and developed in the experimental investigations of Roozeboom and van ’t Hoff and other physical chemists, mainly of the Dutch school.
The Phase Rule.—When a material system consists of only one phase, the number of independent changes that can naturally occur, aside from changes in temperature and pressure, is one less than the number of its independent components. However, when multiple phases are present and in contact within the same system, the number of independent changes may be significantly smaller. The current independent variables μ1, ..., μn are particularly relevant here, as each of them has the same value across all phases. Each phase has its own unique equation that relates δp, δT, and δμ1, ... δμn, or as many of these as are independent; if there are r phases present, there are r such equations. Consequently, the number of possible independent variations, including those of volume and temperature, is reduced to m − r + 2, where m is the number of independently variable chemical components the system has. This number of degrees of freedom cannot be negative; therefore, the number of phases that can coexist cannot be more than m + 2. If m + 2 phases are actually present, there are no variable quantities in the system, meaning the temperature, pressure, and compositions of the phases are all fixed; this situation represents the triple point where ice, water, and vapor coexist. If there are m + 1 phases coexisting, the system can only vary in one way; for instance, at any temperature of water other than the triple point, only two phases, such as liquid and vapor or liquid and solid, can coexist, with the pressure also being definite, along with the densities and potentials of the components. Finally, when only one phase, like water, is present, both pressure and temperature can change independently. The first example highlights systems, whether physical or chemical, in which there is only one possible state of equilibrium, representing a transition point between different compositions; in the second case, each temperature corresponds to its unique, fully determined state of equilibrium; in other scenarios, the composition at equilibrium is uncertain concerning the number of degrees of freedom. Using Gibbs' phase rule, the number of different chemical substances actually interacting in a complex system can be inferred from observing its degree of spontaneous change; this rule forms the basis of the modern study of chemical equilibrium and continuous chemical change in mixtures or alloys, and it has been extensively applied and further developed in the experimental work of Roozeboom, van ’t Hoff, and other notable physical chemists, primarily from the Dutch school.
Extent to which the Theory can be practically developed.—It is only in systems in which the number of independent variables is small that the forms of the various potentials,—or the form of the 395 fundamental characteristic equation expressing the energy of the system in terms of its entropy and constitution, or the pressure in terms of the temperature and the potentials, which includes them all,—can be readily approximated to by experimental determinations. Even in the case of the simple system water-vapour, which is fundamental for the theory of the steam-engine, this has not yet been completely accomplished. The general theory is thus largely confined, as above, to defining the restrictions on the degree of variability of a complex chemical system which the principle of Carnot imposes. The tracing out of these general relations of continuity of state is much facilitated by geometrical diagrams, such as James Thomson first introduced in order to exhibit and explain Andrews’ results as to the range of coexistent phases in carbonic acid. Gibbs’s earliest thermodynamic surface had for its co-ordinates volume, entropy and energy; it was constructed to scale by Maxwell for water-substance, and is fully explained in later editions of the Theory of Heat (1875); it forms a relief map which, by simple inspection, reveals the course of the transformations of water, with the corresponding mechanical and thermal changes, in its three coexistent states of solid, liquid and gas. In the general case, when the substance has more than one independently variable constituent, there are more than three variables to be represented; but Gibbs has shown the utility of surfaces representing, for instance, the entropy in terms of the constitutive variables when temperature and pressure are maintained constant. Such graphical methods are now of fundamental importance in connexion with the phase rule, for the experimental exploration of the trend of the changes of constitution of complex mixtures with interacting components, which arise as the physical conditions are altered, as, for example in modern metallurgy, in the theory of alloys. The study of the phenomena of condensation in a mixture of two gases or vapours, initiated by Andrews and developed in this manner by van der Waals and his pupils, forms a case in point (see Condensation of Gases).
How the Theory Can Be Applied in Practice.—It's only in systems where the number of independent variables is small that we can easily approximate the various potential forms—or the fundamental characteristic equation that expresses the energy of the system in terms of its entropy and composition, or the pressure as a function of temperature and the potentials, which encompasses all of them—through experimental measurements. Even in the case of the simple system of water vapor, which is crucial for the theory of steam engines, this hasn't been fully achieved yet. Therefore, the general theory mostly focuses on defining the limits on the variability of a complex chemical system imposed by Carnot's principle. This mapping of the general relationships of state continuity is greatly aided by geometrical diagrams, which James Thomson first used to illustrate and interpret Andrews’ findings regarding the coexistence of phases in carbonic acid. Gibbs's earliest thermodynamic surface had volume, entropy, and energy as its coordinates; Maxwell constructed it to scale for water and it is thoroughly explained in later editions of Theory of Heat (1875); it acts as a relief map that, through simple observation, shows the transformations of water along with the corresponding mechanical and thermal changes in its three coexistence states: solid, liquid, and gas. In more complex cases, where a substance has more than one independently variable component, there are more than three variables to be represented; however, Gibbs demonstrated the usefulness of surfaces that represent, for example, entropy in relation to the constitutive variables when temperature and pressure are held constant. These graphical methods are now fundamental in connection with the phase rule, facilitating the experimental investigation of how complex mixtures with interacting components change as physical conditions vary, such as in modern metallurgy and the theory of alloys. The study of condensation phenomena in a mixture of two gases or vapors, initiated by Andrews and further developed by van der Waals and his students, is an example (see Condensation of Gases).
Dilute Components: Perfect Gases and Dilute Solutions.—There are, however, two simple limiting cases, in which the theory can be completed by a determination of the functions involved in it, which throw much light on the phenomena of actual systems not far removed from these ideal limits. They are the cases of mixtures of perfect gases, and of very dilute solutions.
Dilute Components: Perfect Gases and Dilute Solutions.—However, there are two straightforward limiting cases where the theory can be fully developed by determining the functions involved. These provide significant insight into the behavior of real systems that are close to these ideal scenarios. They are the cases of mixtures of perfect gases and very dilute solutions.
If, following Gibbs, we apply his equation (2) expressing the pressure in terms of the temperature and the potentials, to a very dilute solution of substances m2, m3, ... mn in a solvent substance m1, and vary the co-ordinate mr alone, p and T remaining unvaried, we have in the equilibrium state
If we follow Gibbs and use his equation (2), which relates pressure to temperature and potentials, for a very dilute solution of substances m2, m3, ... mn in a solvent m1, and change the coordinate mr while keeping p and T constant, we have in the equilibrium state.
mr | dμr | + m1 | dμ1 | + ... + mn | dμn | = 0, |
dmr | dmr | dmr |
in which every m except m1 is very small, while dμ1/dmr is presumably finite. As the second term is thus finite, this requires that the total potential of each component mr, which is mrdμr/dmr, shall be finite, say kr, in the limit when mr is null. Thus for very small concentrations the potential μr of a dilute component must be of the form krlog mr/v, being proportional to the logarithm of the density of that component; it thus tends logarithmically to an infinite value at evanescent concentrations, showing that removal of the last traces of any impurity would demand infinite proportionate expenditure of available energy, and is therefore practically impossible with finite intensities of force. It should be noted, however, that this argument applies only to fluid phases, for in the case of deposition of a solid mr is not uniformly distributed throughout the phase; thus it remains possible for the growth of a crystal at its surface in aqueous solution to extrude all the water except such as is in some form of chemical combination.
in which every m except m1 is very small, while dμ1/dmr is presumably finite. Since the second term is finite, this implies that the total potential of each component mr, which is mrdμr/dmr, must also be finite, say kr, in the limit when mr approaches zero. Therefore, for very small concentrations, the potential μr of a dilute component must be expressed as krlog mr/v, which is proportional to the logarithm of the density of that component. It tends logarithmically towards an infinite value at extremely low concentrations, indicating that eliminating the last traces of any impurity would require an infinite amount of available energy, making it practically impossible with finite amounts of force. However, it should be noted that this argument only applies to fluid stages, because in the case of solid deposition, mr is not uniformly distributed throughout the phase; thus, it is still possible for a crystal to grow at its surface in an aqueous solution and remove all the water except for that which is chemically combined.
The precise value of this logarithmic expression for the potential can be readily determined for the case of a perfect gas from its characteristic properties, and can be thence extended to other dilute forms of matter. We have pv = R/m·T for unit mass of the gas, where m is the molecular weight, being 2 for hydrogen, and R is a constant equal to 82 × 106 in C.G.S. dynamical units, or 2 calories approximately in thermal energy units, which is the same for all gases because they have all the same number of molecules per unit volume. The increment of heat received by the unit mass of the gas is δH = pδv + κδT, κ being thus the specific heat at constant volume, which can be a function only of the temperature. Thus
The exact value of this logarithmic expression for the potential can easily be determined for a perfect gas based on its characteristic properties, and this can then be applied to other dilute forms of matter. We have pv = R/m·T for one unit mass of the gas, where m is the molecular weight, which is 2 for hydrogen, and R is a constant equal to 82 × 106 in C.G.S. dynamical units, or about 2 calories in thermal energy units, which applies to all gases because they contain the same number of molecules per unit volume. The increase of heat received by the unit mass of the gas is δH = pδv + κδT, where κ is the specific heat at constant volume, which depends only on the temperature. Thus
φ = ∫ dH/T = R/m · log v + ∫ κT−1dT;
φ = ∫ dH/T = R/m · log v + ∫ κT−1dT;
and the available energy A per unit mass is E − Tφ + Tφ0 where E = ε + ∫ κdT, the integral being for a standard state, and ε being intrinsic energy of chemical constitution; so that
and the available energy A per unit mass is E − Tφ + Tφ0 where E = ε + ∫ κdT, with the integral representing a standard state, and ε being the intrinsic energy of chemical composition; so that
A = ε + φ0T + ∫ κdT − T ∫ κT−1dT − R/m · T log v.
A = ε + φ0T + ∫ κdT − T ∫ κT−1dT − R/m · T log v.
If there are ν molecules in the unit mass, and N per unit volume, we have mν = Nmv, each being 2 ν′, where ν′ is the number of molecules per unit mass in hydrogen; thus the free energy per molecule is a′ + R′T log bN, where b = m/2ν′, R′ = R/2ν′, and a′ is a function of T alone. It is customary to avoid introducing the unknown molecular constant ν′ by working with the available energy per “gramme-molecule,” that is, for a number of grammes expressed by the molecular weight of the substance; this is a constant multiple of the available energy per molecule, and is a + RT logρ, ρ being the density equal to bN where b = m/2ν′. This formula may now be extended by simple summation to a mixture of gases, on the ground of Dalton’s experimental principle that each of the components behaves in presence of the others as it would do in a vacuum. The components are, in fact, actually separable wholly or partially in reversible ways which may be combined into cycles, for example, either (i.) by diffusion through a porous partition, taking account of the work of the pressures, or (ii.) by utilizing the modified constitution towards the top of a long column of the mixture arising from the action of gravity, or (iii.) by reversible absorption of a single component.
If there are ν molecules in the unit mass and N per unit volume, we have mν = Nmv, each being 2 ν′, where ν′ is the number of molecules per unit mass in hydrogen. Therefore, the free energy per molecule is a′ + R′T log bN, where b = m/2ν′, R′ = R/2ν′, and a′ is a function of T alone. It's common to avoid introducing the unknown molecular constant ν′ by working with the available energy per "gram mole," which refers to a number of grams equal to the molecular weight of the substance; this is a constant multiple of the available energy per molecule and is a + RT logρ, where ρ is the density equal to bN, with b = m/2ν′. This formula can now be extended by simple summation to a mixture of gases, based on Dalton's experimental principle that each of the components behaves in the presence of the others as it would in a vacuum. The components can, in fact, be entirely or partially separated in reversible ways that can be combined into cycles, for example, either (i.) by diffusion through a porous partition, taking into account the work of the pressures, or (ii.) by utilizing the modified constitution at the top of a long column of the mixture due to the effect of gravity, or (iii.) by reversible absorption of a single component.
If we employ in place of available energy the form of characteristic equation which gives the pressure in terms of the temperature and potentials, the pressure of the mixture is expressed as the sum of those belonging to its components: this equation was made by Gibbs the basis of his analytical theory of gas mixtures, which he tested by its application to the only data then available, those of the equilibrium of dissociation of nitrogen peroxide (2NO2 ⇆ N2O4) vapour.
If we replace available energy with the type of characteristic equation that shows pressure in relation to temperature and potentials, the pressure of the mixture can be expressed as the sum of the pressures of its components. Gibbs used this equation as the foundation of his analytical theory of gas mixtures, which he validated by applying it to the only data available at the time: the equilibrium of dissociation of nitrogen peroxide (2NO2 ⇆ N2O4) vapor.
Van ’t Hoff’s Osmotic Principle: Theoretical Explanation.—We proceed to examine how far the same formulae as hold for gases apply to the available energy of matter in solution which is so dilute that each molecule of the dissolved substance, though possibly the centre of a complex of molecules of the solvent, is for nearly all the time beyond the sphere of direct influence of the other molecules of the dissolved substance. The available energy is a function only of the co-ordinates of the matter in bulk and the temperature; its change on further dilution, with which alone we are concerned in the transformations of dilute solutions, can depend only on the further separation of these molecular complexes in space that is thereby produced, as no one of them is in itself altered. The change is therefore a function only of the number N of the dissolved molecules per unit volume, and of the temperature, and is, per molecule, expressible in a form entirely independent of their constitution and of that of the medium in which they are dissolved. This suggests that the expression for the change on dilution is the same as the known one for a gas, in which the same molecules would exist free and in the main outside each other’s spheres of influence; which confirms and is verified by the experimental principle of van ’t Hoff, that osmotic pressure obeys the laws of gaseous pressure with identically the same physical constants as those of gases. It can be held, in fact, that this suggestion does not fall short of a demonstration, on the basis of Carnot’s principle, and independent of special molecular theory, that in all cases where the molecules of a component, whether it be of a gas or of a solution, are outside each other’s spheres of influence, the available energy, so far as regards dilution, must have a common form, and the physical constants must therefore be the known gas-constants. The customary exposition derives this principle, by an argument involving cycles, from Henry’s law of solution of gases; it is sensibly restricted to such solutes as appear concomitantly in the free gaseous state, but theoretically it becomes general when it is remembered that no solute can be absolutely non-volatile.
Van ’t Hoff’s Osmotic Principle: Theoretical Explanation.—We will look into how the same formulas that apply to gases are relevant to the available energy of matter in a solution that is so dilute that each molecule of the dissolved substance, although it might be surrounded by a complex of solvent molecules, is mostly beyond the direct influence of the other dissolved molecules. The available energy only depends on the coordinates of the bulk matter and the temperature; its change with further dilution, which is our focus for dilute solutions, can only depend on the additional spatial separation of these molecular complexes that results, since none of them is changed in itself. Therefore, the change is only a function of the number N of dissolved molecules per unit volume and the temperature, and it can be expressed per molecule in a way that is completely independent of their structure and that of the medium in which they are dissolved. This implies that the equation for the change during dilution is the same as the one known for gases, where these molecules would exist freely and mainly outside each other's spheres of influence; this supports and corroborates van ’t Hoff's experimental principle that osmotic pressure follows the same laws as gas pressure with identical physical constants as those of gases. It can be argued that this suggestion effectively demonstrates, based on Carnot's principle and irrespective of specific molecular theories, that in all instances where the molecules of a component, whether from a gas or a solution, are outside each other's spheres of influence, the available energy regarding dilution must share a common form, and the physical constants must therefore be the known gas constants. The typical explanation derives this principle, through an argument involving cycles, from Henry’s law of gas solubility; it is generally limited to solutes that are also found in a free gaseous state, but theoretically, it applies more broadly when considering that no solute can be completely non-volatile.
Source of the Idea of Temperature.—The single new element that thermodynamics introduces into the ordinary dynamical specification of a material system is temperature. This conception is akin to that of potential, except that it is given to us directly by our sense of heat. But if that were not so, we could still demonstrate, on the basis of Carnot’s principle, that there is a definite function of the state of a body which must be the same for all of a series of connected bodies, when thermal equilibrium has become established so that there is no tendency for heat to flow from one to another. For we can by mere geometrical displacement change the order of the bodies so as to bring different ones into direct contact. If this disturbed the thermal equilibrium, we could construct cyclic processes to take advantage of the resulting flow of heat to do mechanical work, and such processes might be carried on without limit. Thus it is proved 396 that if a body A is in temperature-equilibrium with B, and B with C, then A must be in equilibrium with C directly. This argument can be applied, by aid of adiabatic partitions, even when the bodies are in a field of force so that mechanical work is required to change their geometrical arrangement; it was in fact employed by Maxwell to extend from the case of a gas to that of any other system the proposition that the temperature is the same all along a vertical column in equilibrium under gravity.
Source of the Idea of Temperature.—The one new element that thermodynamics brings into the typical dynamics of a material system is temperature. This concept is similar to that of potential but is understood directly through our sense of heat. However, even if that weren’t the case, we could still show, based on Carnot’s principle, that there is a specific function of a body’s state that must be consistent across all connected bodies once thermal equilibrium is achieved, meaning there is no tendency for heat to transfer between them. By simply rearranging the bodies geometrically, we can change their order to put different ones in direct contact. If this disrupts thermal equilibrium, we could create cyclic processes to exploit the heat flow for mechanical work, and such processes could theoretically continue indefinitely. Thus, it is demonstrated that if body A is in temperature equilibrium with B, and B is with C, then A must also be in equilibrium with C directly. This reasoning can be applied, with the help of adiabatic partitions, even when the bodies are in a force field requiring mechanical work to rearrange them; indeed, Maxwell used this approach to generalize the idea that temperature is uniform throughout a vertical column in equilibrium under gravity.
It had been shown from the kinetic theory by Maxwell that in a gas-column the mean kinetic energy of the molecules is the same at all heights. If the only test of equality of temperature consisted in bringing the bodies into contact, this would be rather a proof that thermal temperature is of the same physical nature in all parts of the field of force; but temperature can also be equalized across a distance by radiation, so that this law for gases is itself already necessitated by Carnot’s general principle, and merely confirmed or verified by the special gas-theory. But without introducing into the argument the existence of radiation, the uniformity of temperature throughout all phases in equilibrium is necessitated by the doctrine of energetics alone, as otherwise, for example, the raising of a quantity of gas to the top of the gravitational column in an adiabatic enclosure together with the lowering of an equal mass to the bottom would be a source of power, capable of unlimited repetition.
It has been demonstrated through kinetic theory by Maxwell that in a gas column, the average kinetic energy of the molecules is the same at every height. If the only way to determine equal temperature was by making contact between the bodies, this would suggest that thermal temperature has the same physical nature in all areas of the force field. However, temperature can also be balanced over a distance through radiation, which means this principle for gases is essentially required by Carnot’s general principle and is simply confirmed by the specific gas theory. Moreover, without bringing radiation into the discussion, the uniformity of temperature throughout all phases in equilibrium is mandated by the principles of energetics alone. Otherwise, for instance, raising a quantity of gas to the top of the gravitational column in an adiabatic enclosure while lowering an equal mass to the bottom would generate power capable of being repeated indefinitely.
Laws of Chemical Equilibrium based on Available Energy.—The complete theory of chemical and physical equilibrium in gaseous mixtures and in very dilute solutions may readily be developed in terms of available energy (cf. Phil. Trans., 1897, A, pp. 266-280), which forms perhaps the most vivid and most direct procedure. The available energy per molecule of any kind, in a mixture of perfect gases in which there are N molecules of that kind per unit volume, has been found to be a′ + R′T logbN where R′ is the universal physical constant connected with R above. This expression represents the marginal increase of available energy due to the introduction of one more molecule of that kind into the system as actually constituted. The same formula also applies, by what has already been stated, to substances in dilute solution in any given solvent. In any isolated system in a mobile state of reaction or of internal dissociation, the condition of chemical equilibrium is that the available energy at constant temperature is a minimum, therefore that it is stationary, and slight change arising from fresh reaction would not sensibly alter it. Suppose that this reaction, per molecule affected by it, is equivalent to introducing n1 molecules of type N1, n2 of type N2, &c., into the system, n1, n2, ... being the numbers of molecules of the different types that take part in the reaction, as shown by its chemical equation, reckoned positive when they appear, negative when they disappear. Then in the state of equilibrium
Laws of Chemical Equilibrium based on Available Energy.—The complete theory of chemical and physical equilibrium in gas mixtures and very dilute solutions can easily be explained in terms of available energy (cf. Phil. Trans., 1897, A, pp. 266-280), which is perhaps the most straightforward and clear approach. The available energy per molecule of any type, in a mixture of ideal gases where there are N molecules of that type per unit volume, is calculated as a′ + R′T logbN, where R′ is the universal physical constant related to R mentioned above. This equation denotes the additional available energy resulting from adding one more molecule of that type into the existing system. The same formula applies, as mentioned earlier, to substances in dilute solutions in any specified solvent. In any isolated system in a state of ongoing reaction or internal dissociation, the condition for chemical equilibrium is that the available energy at constant temperature is at a minimum, meaning it is steady, and any minor changes from further reactions would not significantly affect it. If this reaction, per affected molecule, is equivalent to adding n1 molecules of type N1, n2 of type N2, etc., into the system, with n1, n2, ... being the counts of molecules of different types involved in the reaction as reflected in its chemical equation, counted as positive when they enter and negative when they leave. Then, in the state of equilibrium
n1 (a′1 + R′T log b1N1) + n2 (a′2 + R′T log b2N2) + ...
n1 (a′1 + R′T log b1N1) + n2 (a′2 + R′T log b2N2) + ...
must vanish. Therefore N1n1N2n2 ... must be equal to K, a function of the temperature alone. This law, originally based by Guldberg and Waage on direct statistics of molecular interaction, expresses for each temperature the relation connecting the densities of the interacting substances, in dilution comparable as regards density with the perfect gaseous state, when the reaction has come to the state of mobile equilibrium.
must vanish. Therefore N1n1N2n2 ... must equal K, which is a function of temperature only. This law, originally established by Guldberg and Waage based on direct statistics of molecular interaction, describes for each temperature the relationship connecting the densities of the substances that are interacting, in a concentration similar to that of the ideal gas state, when the reaction reaches a state of dynamic equilibrium.
All properties of any system, including the heat of reaction, are expressible in terms of its available energy A, equal to E − Tφ + φ0T. Thus as the constitution of the system changes with the temperature, we have
All properties of any system, including the heat of reaction, can be expressed in terms of its available energy A, which is equal to E − Tφ + φ0T. So, as the makeup of the system changes with the temperature, we have
dA | = | dE | - T | dφ | − (φ − φ0) |
dT | dT | dT |
where
where
δE = δH + δW, δH = Tδφ,
δE = δH + δW, δH = Tδφ,
δH being heat and δW mechanical and chemical energy imparted to the system at constant temperature; hence
δH being heat and δW mechanical and chemical energy added to the system at constant temperature; hence
d(A − W) | = −(φ − φ0), so that A = E + T | d(A − W) | , |
dT | dT |
which is equivalent to
which equals
E − W = −T² | d | This text requires content to be modernized. Please provide a short phrase (5 words or fewer) for me to assist you. | A − W | I'm sorry, but there doesn’t seem to be any text provided for me to modernize. Could you please provide the text you'd like me to work on?. |
dT | T |
This general formula, applied differentially, expresses the heat δE − δW absorbed by a reaction in terms of δA, the change produced by it in the available energy of the system, and of δW, the mechanical and electrical work done on the system during its progress.
This general formula, applied differently, shows the heat δE − δW absorbed by a reaction in terms of δA, which is the change it creates in the available energy of the system, and δW, the mechanical and electrical work done on the system during its process.
In the problem of reaction in gaseous systems or in very dilute solution, the change of available energy per molecule of reaction has just been found to be
In the issue of reactions in gaseous systems or in very dilute solutions, the change in available energy per molecule of reaction has just been discovered to be
δA = δA0 + R′T log K′, where K′ = b1n1b2n2 ... K;
δA = δA0 + R'T log K', where K' = b1n1b2n2 ... K;
thus, when the reaction is spontaneous without requiring external work, the heat absorbed per molecule of reaction is
thus, when the reaction happens on its own without needing external work, the heat absorbed for each molecule of the reaction is
−T² | d | δA0 | , or −R′T² | d | log K. | |
dT | T | dT |
This formula has been utilized by van ’t Hoff to determine, in terms of the heat of reaction, the displacement of equilibrium in various systems arising from change of temperature; for K, equal to N1n1N2n2 ..., is the reaction-parameter through which alone the temperature affects the law of chemical equilibrium in dilute systems.
This formula has been used by van 't Hoff to determine, in terms of the heat of reaction, how the equilibrium shifts in different systems when the temperature changes; for K, equal to N1n1N2n2 ..., is the reaction parameter that the temperature alone influences in the law of chemical equilibrium in dilute systems.
Interfacial Phenomena: Liquid Films.—The characteristic equation hitherto developed refers to the state of an element of mass in the interior of a homogeneous substance: it does not apply to matter in the neighbourhood of the transition between two adjacent phases. A remarkable analysis has been developed by J.W. Gibbs in which the present methods concerning matter in bulk are extended to the phenomena at such an interface, without the introduction of any molecular theory; it forms the thermodynamic completion of Gauss’s mechanical theory of capillarity, based on the early form of the principle of total energy. The validity of the fundamental doctrine of available energy, so far as regards all mechanical actions in bulk such as surface tensions, is postulated, even when applied to interfacial layers so thin as to be beyond our means of measurement; the argument from perpetual motions being available here also, as soon as we have experimentally ascertained that the said tensions are definite physical properties of the state of the interface and not merely accidental phenomena. The procedure will then consist in assuming a definite excess of energy, of entropy, and of the masses of the various components, each per unit surface, at the interface, the potential of each component being of necessity, in equilibrium, the same as it is in the adjacent masses. The interfacial transition layer thus provides in a sense a new surface-phase coexistent with those on each side of it, and having its own characteristic equation. It is only the extent of the interface and not its curvatures that need enter into this relation, because any slight influence of the latter can be eliminated from the equation by slightly displacing the position of the surface which is taken to represent the interface geometrically. By an argument similar to one given above, it is shown that one of the forms of the characteristic equation is a relation expressing the surface tension as a function of the temperature and the potentials of the various components present on the two sides of the interface; and from the differentiation of this the surface densities of the superficial distributions of these components (as above defined) can be obtained. The conditions that a specified new phase may become developed when two other given ones are brought into contact, i.e. that a chemical reaction may start at the interface, are thence formally expressed in terms of the surface tensions of the three transition layers and the pressures in the three phases. In the case of a thin soap-film, sudden extension of any part reduces the interfacial density of each component at each surface of the film, and so alters the surface tension, which requires time to recover by the very slow diffusion of dissolved material from other parts of the thin film; the system being stable, this change must be an increase of tension, and constitutes a species of elasticity in the film. Thus in a vertical film the surface tension must be greater in the higher parts, as they have to sustain the weight of the lower parts; the upper parts, in fact, stretch until the superficial densities of the components there situated are reduced to the amounts that 397 correspond to the tension required for this purpose. Such a film could not therefore consist of pure water. But there is a limit to these processes: if the film becomes so thin that there is no water in bulk between its surfaces, the tensions cannot adjust themselves in this slow way by migration of components from one part of the film to another; if the film can survive at all after it has become of molecular thickness, it must be as a definite molecular structure all across its thickness. Of such type are the black spots that break out in soap-films (suggested by Gibbs and proved by the measures of Reinold and Rücker): the spots increase in size because their tension is less than that of the surrounding film, but their indefinite increase is presumably stopped in practice by some clogging or viscous agency at their boundary.
Interfacial Phenomena: Liquid Films.—The characteristic equation developed so far pertains to the state of mass within a uniform substance: it does not apply to matter near the boundary between two adjacent phases. J.W. Gibbs has conducted an impressive analysis, extending current methods related to bulk matter to phenomena at an interface, without relying on any molecular theory; this provides a thermodynamic foundation for Gauss’s mechanical theory of capillarity, based on an early version of the total energy principle. The fundamental principle of available energy is considered valid for all mechanical actions in bulk, such as surface tensions, even when applied to interfacial layers that are too thin for our measurements. The argument for perpetual motion is relevant here as well once we experimentally confirm that these tensions are actual physical properties of the interface and not merely random occurrences. The approach involves assuming a defined excess of energy, entropy, and mass of the various components, each per unit surface at the interface, with the potential of each component necessarily remaining in equilibrium, identical to that in the adjoining masses. The interfacial transition layer essentially creates a new surface-phase that coexists with those on either side and has its own characteristic equation. Only the extent of the interface matters in this relation, not the curvatures, as any minor effects from the latter can be disregarded by slightly adjusting the surface position representing the interface geometrically. A similar argument shows that one form of the characteristic equation expresses surface tension as a function of temperature and the potentials of the various components present on both sides of the interface; differentiation of this allows us to find the surface densities of the superficial distributions of these components (as previously defined). The criteria for a specified new phase to develop when two others are placed in contact, i.e. for a chemical reaction to begin at the interface, are formally expressed in terms of the surface tensions of the three transition layers and the pressures within the three phases. In the case of a thin soap film, a sudden extension of any part decreases the interfacial density of each component at each surface of the film, altering the surface tension, which must take time to recover due to the very slow diffusion of dissolved material from other areas of the thin film; since the system is stable, this change must lead to an increase in tension, representing a form of elasticity in the film. Therefore, in a vertical film, the surface tension must be higher in the upper sections, as they need to support the weight of the lower sections; the upper parts stretch until the superficial densities of the components there are reduced to the levels that 397 correspond to the necessary tension. Hence, such a film could not consist of pure water. However, there is a limit to these processes: if the film becomes so thin that there's no bulk water between its surfaces, the tensions cannot adjust themselves slowly by moving components from one part of the film to another; if the film remains at all after reaching molecular thickness, it must consist of a definitive molecular structure throughout its thickness. This is the type of black spots that appear in soap films (as suggested by Gibbs and confirmed by measurements from Reinold and Rücker): the spots grow larger because their tension is lower than that of the surrounding film, but their indefinite growth is likely halted in practice by some type of clogging or viscous effect at their boundary.
Transition to Molecular Theory.—The subject of energetics, based on the doctrine of available energy, deals with matter in bulk and is not concerned with its molecular constitution, which it is expressly designed to eliminate from the problem. This analysis of the phenomena of surface tension shows how far the principle of negation of perpetual motions can carry us, into regions which at first sight might be classed as molecular. But, as in other cases, it is limited to pointing out the general scheme of relations within which the phenomena can have their play. There is now a considerable body of knowledge correlating surface tension with chemical constitution, especially to a certain extent with the numerical density of the distribution of molecules; thus R. Eötvös has shown that a law of proportionality exists for wide classes of substances between the temperature-gradient of the surface tension and the density of the molecules over the surface layer, which varies as the two-thirds power of the number per unit volume (see Chemistry: Physical). This takes us into the sphere of molecular science, where at present we have only such indications largely derived from experiment, if we except the mere notion of inter-atomic forces of unknown character on which the older theories of capillarity, those of Laplace and Poisson, were constructed.
Transition to Molecular Theory.—The study of energetics, based on the idea of available energy, focuses on matter as a whole and doesn’t address its molecular structure, which it explicitly aims to exclude from consideration. This examination of surface tension phenomena illustrates how far the principle against perpetual motion can take us, even into areas that might initially seem molecular. However, like in other instances, it only highlights the broad framework of relationships in which these phenomena can occur. We now have a substantial amount of knowledge linking surface tension to chemical structure, particularly to some extent with the numerical density of molecule distribution. For example, R. Eötvös demonstrated that there is a proportionality law for many substances between the temperature change of surface tension and the density of the molecules in the surface layer, varying as the two-thirds power of the number per unit volume (see Chemistry: Physical). This brings us into the realm of molecular science, where currently we only have indications mainly derived from experiments, apart from the basic idea of inter-atomic forces of an unknown nature on which earlier theories of capillarity by Laplace and Poisson were based.
In other topics the same restrictions on the scope of the simple statical theory of energy appear. From the ascertained behaviour in certain respects of gaseous media we are able to construct their characteristic equation, and correlate their remaining relations by means of its consequences. Part of the experimental knowledge required for this purpose is the values of the gas-constants, which prove to be the same for all nearly perfect gases. The doctrine of energetics by itself can give no clue as to why this should be so; it can only construct a scheme for each simple or complex medium on the basis of its own experimentally determined characteristic equation. The explanation of uniformities in the intrinsic constitutions of various media belongs to molecular theory, which is a distinct and in the main more complex and more speculative department of knowledge. When we proceed further and find, with van ’t Hoff, that these same universal gas-constants reappear in the relations of very dilute solutions, our demand for an explanation such as can only be provided by molecular theory (as supra) is intensely stimulated. But except in respects such as these the doctrine of energetics gives a complete synthesis of the course and relations of the chemical reactions of matter in bulk, from which we can eliminate atomism altogether by restating the merely numerical atomic theory of Dalton as a principle of equivalent combining proportions. Of recent years there has been a considerable school of chemists who insist on this procedure as a purification of their science from the hypothetical ideas as to atoms and molecules, in terms of which its experimental facts have come to be expressed. A complete system of doctrine can be developed in this manner, but its scope will be limited. It makes use of one principle of correlation, the doctrine of available energy, and discards another such principle, the atomic theory. Nor can it be said that the one principle is really more certain and definite than the other. This may be illustrated by what has sometimes by German writers been called Gibbs’s paradox: the energy that is available for mechanical effect in the inter-diffusion of given volumes of two gases depends only on these volumes and their pressures, and is independent of what the gases are; if the gases differed only infinitesimally in constitution it would still be the same, and the question arises where we are to stop, for we cannot suppose the inter-diffusion of two identical gases to be a source of power. This then looks like a real failure, or rather limitation, of the principle; and there are other such, that can only be satisfactorily explained by aid of the complementary doctrine of molecular theory. That theory, in fact, shows that the more nearly identical the gases are, the slower will be the process of inter-diffusion, so that the mechanical energy will indeed be available, but only after a time that becomes indefinitely prolonged. It is a case in which the simple doctrine of energetics becomes inadequate before the limit is reached. The phenomena of highly rarefied gases provide other cases. And in fact the only reason hitherto thought of for the invariable tendency of available energy to diminish, is that it represents the general principle that in the kinetic play of a vast assemblage of independent molecules individually beyond our control, the normal tendency is for the regularities to diminish and the motions to become less correlated: short of some such reason, it is an unexplained empirical principle. In the special departments of dynamical physics on the other hand, the molecular theory, there dynamical and therefore much more difficult and less definite, is an indispensable part of the framework of science; and even experimental chemistry now leans more and more on new physical methods and instruments. Without molecular theory the clue which has developed into spectrum analysis, bringing with it stellar chemistry and a new physical astronomy, would not have been available; nor would the laws of diffusion and conduction in gases have attained more than an empirical form; nor would it have been possible to weave the phenomena of electrodynamics and radiation into an entirely rational theory.
In other areas, the same limitations on the simple statistical theory of energy appear. From the established behavior in certain aspects of gases, we can create their characteristic equation and link their other relationships through its implications. Some of the experimental knowledge needed for this includes the values of the gas constants, which turn out to be the same for almost all ideal gases. The theory of energetics alone doesn’t explain why this is the case; it can only provide a framework for each simple or complex medium based on its experimentally determined characteristic equation. The explanation for the consistent properties of different media falls under molecular theory, which is a different and generally more complex and speculative area of knowledge. As we delve deeper and find, with van 't Hoff, that these same universal gas constants show up in the relationships of very dilute solutions, our demand for an explanation—and that can only come from molecular theory—is greatly heightened. Besides these points, the theory of energetics completely summarizes the processes and relationships of chemical reactions in bulk matter, allowing us to remove atomism by redefining Dalton’s numerical atomic theory as a principle of equivalent combining proportions. Recently, a significant group of chemists has advocated for this approach as a way to cleanse their science of the hypothetical concepts of atoms and molecules that have been used to explain its experimental facts. A complete system of theory can be constructed this way, but its range will be limited. It relies on one principle of correlation, the doctrine of available energy, while discarding another, the atomic theory. It's also not accurate to say one principle is more certain or clear than the other. This can be illustrated by what some German writers have called Gibbs's paradox: the energy available for mechanical work in the mixing of two given gas volumes depends only on these volumes and their pressures, independent of the gases themselves; if the gases only differed slightly in their makeup, it would still be the same, raising the question of where to draw the line, since we can't consider the mixing of two identical gases as a power source. This appears to be a genuine shortcoming, or limitation, of the principle, and there are other similar cases that can only be satisfactorily clarified with the help of molecular theory. That theory shows that the more alike the gases are, the slower the mixing process will be, meaning the mechanical energy will indeed be available, but only after an indefinitely long time. This is a scenario where the simple theory of energetics falls short before reaching the limit. The behavior of highly rarefied gases provides additional examples. In fact, the only explanation previously considered for the constant tendency of available energy to decrease is that it embodies the general principle that, in the kinetic behavior of a large group of independent molecules that we can't control, the normal tendency is for regularities to fade and motions to become less coordinated: without such a reason, it remains an unexplained empirical principle. On the other hand, in specific fields of dynamical physics, molecular theory—which is more dynamic, harder to define, and therefore essential—forms a critical part of the scientific framework; and even experimental chemistry is increasingly relying on new physical methods and tools. Without molecular theory, the insights that led to spectrum analysis, which in turn advanced stellar chemistry and a new physical astronomy, wouldn't exist; nor would the laws of diffusion and conduction in gases have developed more than in an empirical way; nor would it have been possible to connect the phenomena of electrodynamics and radiation into a fully rational theory.
The doctrine of available energy, as the expression of thermodynamic theory, is directly implied in Carnot’s Essai of 1824, and constitutes, in fact, its main theme; it took a fresh start, in the light of fuller experimental knowledge regarding the nature of heat, in the early memoirs of Rankine and Lord Kelvin, which may be found in their Collected Scientific Papers; a subsequent exposition occurs in Maxwell’s Theory of Heat; its most familiar form of statement is Lord Kelvin’s principle of the dissipation of available energy. Its principles were very early applied by James Thomson to a physico-chemical problem, that of the influence of stress on the growth of crystals in their mother liquor. The “thermodynamic function” introduced by Rankine into its development is the same as the “entropy” of the material system, independently defined by Clausius about the same time. Clausius’s form of the principle, that in an adiabatic system the entropy tends continually to increase, has been placed by Professor Willard Gibbs, of Yale University, at the foundation of his magnificent but complex and difficult development of the theory. His monumental memoir “On the Equilibrium of Heterogeneous Substances,” first published in Trans. Connecticut Academy (1876-1878), made a clean sweep of the subject; and workers in the modern experimental science of physical chemistry have returned to it again and again to find their empirical principles forecasted in the light of pure theory, and to derive fresh inspiration for new departures. As specially preparatory to Gibbs’s general discussion may be mentioned Lord Rayleigh’s memoir on the thermodynamics of gaseous diffusion (Phil. Mag., 1876), which was expounded by Maxwell in the 9th edition of the Ency. Brit. (art. Diffusion). The fundamental importance of the doctrine of dissipation of energy for the theory of chemical reaction had already been insisted on in general terms by Rayleigh; subsequent to, but independently of, Gibbs’s work it had been elaborated by von Helmholtz (Gesamm. Abhandl. ii. and iii.) in connexion with the thermodynamics of voltaic cells, and more particularly in the calculation of the free or available energy of solutions from data of vapour-pressure, with a view to the application to the theory of concentration cells, therein also coming close to the doctrine of osmotic pressure. This form of the general theory has here been traced back substantially to Lord Kelvin under date 1855. Expositions and developments on various lines will be found in papers by Riecke and by Planck in 398 Annalen der Physik between 1890 and 1900, in the course of a memoir by Larmor, Phil. Trans., 1897, A, in Voigt’s Compendium der Physik and his more recent Thermodynamik, in Planck’s Vorlesungen über Thermodynamik, in Duhem’s elaborate Traité de mécanique chimique and Le Potential thermodynamique, in Whetham’s Theory of Solution and in Bryan’s Thermodynamics. Numerous applications to special problems are expounded in van’t Hoff’s Lectures on Theoretical and Physical Chemistry.
The concept of available energy, as outlined in thermodynamic theory, is directly referenced in Carnot’s essay from 1824 and is actually its central theme. It got a fresh start with the new experimental insights regarding heat, appearing in the early works of Rankine and Lord Kelvin, which you can find in their collected scientific papers. A later explanation is in Maxwell’s Theory of Heat; the most commonly recognized version is Lord Kelvin’s principle of energy dissipation. James Thomson applied its concepts early on to a physical chemistry issue, specifically the effect of stress on crystal growth in their mother liquor. The "thermodynamic function" introduced by Rankine in this context is equivalent to the "entropy" of the material system, which Clausius defined independently around the same time. Clausius’s formulation states that in an adiabatic system, entropy tends to increase continually, and this idea has been foundational to Professor Willard Gibbs's complex developments of the theory at Yale University. His important paper “On the Equilibrium of Heterogeneous Substances,” first published in Trans. Connecticut Academy (1876-1878), completely redefined the subject; modern researchers in physical chemistry have repeatedly revisited it to find their empirical principles anticipated through pure theory and to gain new inspiration. A key precursor to Gibbs’s broader discussion is Lord Rayleigh’s paper on the thermodynamics of gas diffusion (Phil. Mag., 1876), which Maxwell elaborated on in the 9th edition of the Ency. Brit. (art. Diffusion). Rayleigh had already highlighted the crucial significance of energy dissipation for chemical reaction theory in broad terms; Gibbs's work was then developed independently by von Helmholtz (Gesamm. Abhandl. ii. and iii.) in relation to the thermodynamics of galvanic cells, especially in calculating the free or available energy of solutions using vapor pressure data, which also relates to concentration cells and the concept of osmotic pressure. This version of the general theory can be traced back to Lord Kelvin around 1855. Further explanations and developments along various lines are found in papers by Riecke and Planck in Annalen der Physik from 1890 to 1900, along with Larmor's memoir in Phil. Trans., 1897, A, in Voigt’s Compendium der Physik and his more recent Thermodynamik, in Planck’s Vorlesungen über Thermodynamik, in Duhem’s comprehensive Traité de mécanique chimique and Le Potential thermodynamique, in Whetham’s Theory of Solution and in Bryan’s Thermodynamics. Many applications to specific problems are discussed in van’t Hoff’s Lectures on Theoretical and Physical Chemistry.
The theory of energetics, which puts a diminishing limit on the amount of energy available for mechanical purposes, is closely implicated in the discovery of natural radioactive substances by H. Becquerel, and their isolation in the very potent form of radium salts by M. and Mme Curie. The slow degradation of radium has been found by the latter to be concomitant with an evolution of heat, in amount enormous compared with other chemical changes. This heat has been shown by E. Rutherford to be about what must be due to the stoppage of the α and β particles, which are emitted from the substance with velocities almost of the same scale as that of light. If they struck an ideal rigid target, their lost kinetic energy must all be sent away as radiation; but when they become entangled among the molecules of actual matter, it will, to a large extent, be shared among them as heat, with availability reduced accordingly. In any case the particles that escape into the surrounding space are so few and their velocity so uniform that we can, to some extent, treat their energy as directly available mechanically, in contradistinction to the energy of individual molecules of a gas (cf. Maxwell’s “demons”), e.g. for driving a vane, as in Crookes’s experiment with the cathode rays. Indeed, on account of the high velocity of projection of the particles from a radium salt, the actions concerned would find their equilibrium at such enormously high temperatures that any influence of actually available differences of temperature is not sensibly a feature of the phenomena. Such actions, however, like explosive actions in general, are beyond our powers of actual direct measurement as regards the degradation of availability of the energy. It has been pointed out by Rutherford, R.J. Strutt and others, that the energy of degradation of even a very minute admixture of active radium would entirely dominate and mask all other cosmical modes of transformation of energy; for example, it far outweighs that arising from the exhaustion of gravitational energy, which has been shown by Helmholtz and Kelvin to be an ample source for all the activities of our cosmical system, and to be itself far greater than the energy of any ordinary chemical rearrangements consequent on a fall of temperature: a circumstance that makes the existence and properties of this substance under settled cosmic conditions still more anomalous (see Radioactivity). Theoretically it is possible to obtain unlimited concentration of availability of energy at the expense of an equivalent amount of degradation spread over a wider field; the potency of electric furnaces, which have recently opened up a new department of chemistry, and are limited only by the refractoriness of the materials of which they are constituted, forms a case in point. In radium we have the very remarkable phenomenon of far higher concentration occurring naturally in very minute permanent amounts, so that merely chemical sifting is needed to produce its aggregation. Even in pitchblende only one molecule in 109 seems to be of radium, renewable, however, when lost, by internal transformation.
The theory of energetics, which limits the amount of energy available for mechanical use, is closely linked to H. Becquerel's discovery of natural radioactive substances and their isolation in the highly potent form of radium salts by M. and Mme Curie. The slow decay of radium has been found by the Curies to coincide with an enormous release of heat compared to other chemical changes. E. Rutherford has shown that this heat is approximately what results from the stoppage of the α and β particles, which are emitted from the substance at speeds almost equal to that of light. If they hit a perfectly rigid target, all their lost kinetic energy would be released as radiation; however, when they interact with the molecules of real matter, a large part of that energy will be converted to heat, which reduces its availability. In any case, the particles that escape into the surrounding area are so few and moving at such uniform speeds that we can somewhat treat their energy as directly usable for mechanical purposes, unlike the energy of individual gas molecules (see Maxwell’s “demons”), for example, for driving a vane as demonstrated in Crookes’s experiment with cathode rays. Indeed, due to the high speed of particles being emitted from a radium salt, the associated actions would reach equilibrium at such high temperatures that the impact of currently available temperature differences is not a significant aspect of the phenomena. However, like explosive reactions in general, these actions are beyond our direct measurement capabilities concerning the loss of energy availability. Rutherford, R.J. Strutt, and others have pointed out that the energy loss from even a tiny amount of active radium would completely overshadow and conceal all other cosmic energy transformations. For instance, it vastly exceeds the energy derived from the depletion of gravitational energy, which Helmholtz and Kelvin demonstrated to be a significant source for all activities in our cosmic system and is considerably greater than energy from any typical chemical rearrangements due to temperature drops—a fact that makes the existence and properties of this substance in stable cosmic conditions even more unusual (see Radioactivity). In theory, it is possible to achieve unlimited energy concentration at the cost of spreading an equivalent amount of degradation over a broader area; the effectiveness of electric furnaces, which have recently created a new field in chemistry and are only constrained by the heat resistance of their materials, exemplifies this. With radium, we observe a remarkable phenomenon where a much higher concentration occurs naturally in very small, stable amounts, so that simple chemical separation is enough to extract it. Even in pitchblende, only one molecule in 109 appears to be radium, but it can be regenerated internally when lost.
The energetics of Radiation is treated under that heading. See also Thermodynamics.
The energy dynamics of Radiation are covered under that topic. Also, see Thermodynamics.
ENERGICI, or Energumens (Gr. “possessed by a spirit”), the name given in the early Church to those suffering from different forms of insanity, who were popularly supposed to be under the control of some indwelling spirit other than their own. Among primitive races everywhere disease is explained in this way, and its removal supposed to be effected by priestly prayers and incantations. They were sometimes called χειμαζόμενοι, as being “tossed by the waves” of uncontrollable impulse. Persons afflicted in this way were restricted from entering the church, but might share the shelter of the porch with lepers and persons of offensive life (Hefele, Conciliengeschichte, vol. i. § 16). After the prayers, if quiet, they might come in to receive the bishop’s blessing (Apost. Const. viii. 6, 7, 32) and listen to the sermon. They were daily fed and prayed over by the exorcists, and, in case of recovery, after a fast of from 20 to 40 days, were admitted to the eucharist, and their names and cures entered in the church records.
ENERGIZED, or Nuts (Gr. “possessed by a spirit”), was the term used in the early Church for those experiencing various forms of insanity, who were thought to be under the influence of an inner spirit besides their own. Across many primitive cultures, illness is often explained in this manner, with healing believed to occur through the prayers and rituals of priests. They were sometimes referred to as struggling, indicating they were “tossed by the waves” of uncontrollable urges. Those affected in this way were not allowed to enter the church but could stay in the porch area with lepers and people living immoral lives (Hefele, Conciliengeschichte, vol. i. § 16). After prayers, if they were calm, they could enter to receive the bishop’s blessing (Apost. Const. viii. 6, 7, 32) and listen to the sermon. They were fed and prayed for daily by exorcists, and if they recovered after fasting for 20 to 40 days, they would be allowed to partake in the eucharist, and their names and healing would be recorded in the church's records.
A note on the New Testament use of the word ἐνεργεῖν and its cognates will be found in J.A. Robinson’s edition of The Epistle to the Ephesians, pp. 241-247; an excursus on “The Conflict with Demons” in A. Harnack, The Expansion of Christianity, i. 152-180. Cf. Exorcism.
A note on the New Testament use of the word to act and its cognates can be found in J.A. Robinson’s edition of The Epistle to the Ephesians, pp. 241-247; an excursus on “The Conflict with Demons” in A. Harnack, The Expansion of Christianity, i. 152-180. Cf. Exorcism.
ENERGY (from the Gr. ἐνέργεια; ἐν, in, ἔργον, work), in physical science, a term which may be defined as accumulated mechanical work, which, however, may be only partially available for use. A bent spring possesses energy, for it is capable of doing work in returning to its natural form; a charge of gunpowder possesses energy, for it is capable of doing work in exploding; a Leyden jar charged with electricity possesses energy, for it is capable of doing work in being discharged. The motions of bodies, or of the ultimate parts of bodies, also involve energy, for stopping them would be a source of work.
ENERGY (from the Gr. energy; ἐν, in, work, work), in physical science, refers to the stored mechanical work that may not always be fully available for use. A bent spring has energy because it can do work when it returns to its original shape; a charge of gunpowder has energy because it can do work when it explodes; a Leyden jar filled with electricity has energy because it can do work when it's discharged. The movement of objects, or of their smallest parts, also involves energy since stopping them would require work.
All kinds of energy are ultimately measured in terms of work. If we raise 1 ℔ of matter through a foot we do a certain amount of work against the earth’s attraction; if we raise 2 ℔ through the same height we do twice this amount of work, and so on. Also, the work done in raising 1 ℔ through 2 ft. will be double of that done in raising it 1 ft. Thus we recognize that the work done varies as the resistance overcome and the distance through which it is overcome conjointly.
All types of energy are ultimately measured by how much work they can do. If we lift 1 pound of material a foot up, we do a specific amount of work against the earth's pull. If we lift 2 pounds the same height, we do twice that amount of work, and so on. Also, the work done in lifting 1 pound a distance of 2 feet is double that done in lifting it 1 foot. This shows us that the work done depends on both the resistance we overcome and the distance we move it.
Now, we may select any definite quantity of work we please as our unit, as, for example, the work done in lifting a pound a foot high from the sea-level in the latitude of London, which is the unit of work generally adopted by British engineers, and is called the “foot-pound.” The most appropriate unit for scientific purposes is one which depends only on the fundamental units of length, mass and time, and is hence called an absolute unit. Such a unit is independent of gravity or of any other quantity which varies with the locality. Taking the centimetre, gramme and second as our fundamental units, the most convenient unit of force is that which, acting on a gramme for a second, produces in it a velocity of a centimetre per second; this is called a Dyne. The unit of work is that which is required to overcome a resistance of a dyne over a centimetre, and is called an Erg. In the latitude of Paris the dyne is equal to the weight of about 1⁄981 of a gramme, and the erg is the amount of work required to raise 1⁄981 of a gramme vertically through one centimetre.
Now, we can choose any specific amount of work we want as our unit, such as the work done in lifting a pound to a height of one foot from sea level in London, which is the unit of work usually used by British engineers and is called the “foot-pound.” The best unit for scientific purposes relies solely on the fundamental units of length, mass, and time, and is therefore referred to as an absolute unit. This type of unit does not depend on gravity or any other factor that varies by location. Using the centimeter, gram, and second as our basic units, the most practical unit of force is one that, when applied to a gram for a second, creates a velocity of one centimeter per second; this is called a Dyne. The unit of work is defined as the work needed to overcome a resistance of one dyne over one centimeter, and is called an Erg. At the latitude of Paris, the dyne is equivalent to the weight of about 1⁄981 of a gram, and the erg is the amount of work required to lift 1⁄981 of a gram one centimeter vertically.
Energy is the capacity for doing work. The unit of energy should therefore be the same as that of work, and the centimetre-gramme-second (C.G.S.) unit of energy is the erg.
Energy is the ability to do work. So, the unit of energy should be the same as the unit of work, and the centimetre-gramme-second (C.G.S.) unit of energy is the erg.
The forms of energy which are most readily recognized are of course those in which the energy can be most directly employed in doing mechanical work; and it is manifest that masses of matter which are large enough to be seen and handled are more readily dealt with mechanically than are smaller masses. Hence when useful work can be obtained from a system by simply connecting visible portions of it by a train of mechanism, such energy is more readily recognized than is that which would compel us to control the behaviour of molecules before we could transform it into useful work. This leads up to the fundamental distinction, introduced by Lord Kelvin, between “available energy,” which we can turn to mechanical effect, and “diffuse energy,” which is useless for that purpose.
The types of energy that we recognize most easily are the ones that we can directly use to do mechanical work. It's clear that larger masses of matter, which we can see and handle, are easier to work with mechanically than smaller ones. So, when we can get useful work from a system just by connecting visible parts with a mechanism, that energy is more easily recognized than energy that requires us to manipulate molecules before we can turn it into useful work. This leads to the key distinction introduced by Lord Kelvin between “available energy,” which we can convert into mechanical work, and “diffuse energy,” which isn't useful for that purpose.
The conception of work and of energy was originally derived from observation of purely mechanical phenomena, that is to say, phenomena in which the relative positions and motions of visible portions of matter were all that were taken into consideration. Hence it is not surprising that, in those more subtle forms in which energy cannot be readily or completely converted into work, the universality of the principle of energy, its conservation, as regards amount, should for a long while have escaped recognition after it had become familiar in pure dynamics.
The idea of work and energy originally came from observing purely mechanical events, meaning that only the positions and movements of visible parts of matter were considered. Therefore, it’s not surprising that in the more complex cases where energy can’t be easily or fully turned into work, the overall principle of energy conservation, in terms of quantity, went unrecognized for a long time, even after it became well-known in basic dynamics.
If a pound weight be suspended by a string passing over 399 pulley, in descending through 10 ft. it is capable of raising nearly a pound weight attached to the other end of the string, through the same height, and thus can do nearly 10 foot-pounds of work. The smoother we make the pulley the more nearly does the amount of useful work which the weight is capable of doing approach 10 foot-pounds, and if we take into account the work done against the friction of the pulley, we may say that the work done by the descending weight is 10 foot-pounds, and hence when the weight is in its elevated position we have at disposal 10 foot-pounds more energy than when it is in the lower position. It should be noticed, however, that this energy is possessed by the system consisting of the earth and pound together, in virtue of their separation, and that neither could do work without the other to attract it. The system consisting of the earth and the pound therefore possesses an amount of energy which depends on the relative positions of its two parts, on account of the latent physical connexion existing between them. In most mechanical systems the working stresses acting between the parts can be determined when the relative positions of all the parts are known; and the energy which a system possesses in virtue of the relative positions of its parts, or its configuration, is classified as “potential energy,” to distinguish it from energy of motion which we shall presently consider. The word potential does not imply that this energy is not real; it exists in potentiality only in the sense that it is stored away in some latent manner; but it can be drawn upon without limit for mechanical work.
If a pound weight is hung from a string that goes over a pulley, when it descends 10 ft, it can lift almost a pound weight attached to the other end of the string through the same height, thereby accomplishing nearly 10 foot-pounds of work. The smoother we make the pulley, the closer the amount of useful work the weight can do gets to 10 foot-pounds. If we consider the work done against the friction of the pulley, we can say that the work done by the descending weight is 10 foot-pounds, meaning when the weight is lifted, we have 10 foot-pounds more energy available than when it is at the lower position. It's important to note that this energy is held by the system made up of the earth and the pound weight, because of their separation, and neither can do work without the other’s gravitational pull. The earth and the pound weight together thus hold an amount of energy that depends on their relative positions, due to the inherent physical connection between them. In most mechanical systems, the working forces between the parts can be calculated when the relative positions of all the parts are known; the energy that a system has due to the positions of its parts, or its configuration, is called “potential energy,” to differentiate it from kinetic energy, which we'll discuss shortly. The term potential doesn't mean this energy isn't real; it exists in potential only in that it's stored in a latent way, but it can be utilized endlessly for mechanical work.
It is a fundamental result in dynamics that, if a body be projected vertically upwards in vacuo, with a velocity of v centimetres per second, it will rise to a height of v²/2g centimetres, where g represents the numerical value of the acceleration produced by gravity in centimetre-second units. Now, if m represent the mass of the body in grammes its weight will be mg dynes, for it will require a force of mg dynes to produce in it the acceleration denoted by g. Hence the work done in raising the mass will be represented by mg·v²/2g, that is, ½mv² ergs. Now, whatever be the direction in which a body is moving, a frictionless constraint, like a string attached to the body, can cause its velocity to be changed into the vertical direction without any change taking place in the magnitude of the velocity. Thus it is merely in virtue of the velocity that the mass is capable of rising against the resistance of gravity, and hence we recognize that on account of its motion the body possessed ½mv² units of energy. Energy of motion is usually called “kinetic energy.”
It’s a basic principle in dynamics that if a body is projected straight up in a vacuum with a speed of v centimeters per second, it will reach a height of v²/2g centimeters, where g represents the numerical value of the acceleration due to gravity in centimeter-second units. If m stands for the mass of the body in grams, its weight will be mg dynes, as it takes a force of mg dynes to give it the acceleration represented by g. Therefore, the work done in lifting the mass will be mg·v²/2g, which is the same as ½mv² ergs. No matter the direction a body is moving in, a frictionless constraint, like a string attached to the body, can change its velocity to a vertical direction without affecting the speed's magnitude. Thus, it’s purely because of its velocity that the mass can rise against gravity's pull, and we see that due to its motion, the body has ½mv² units of energy. The energy of motion is often referred to as “kinetic energy.”
A simple example of the transformation of kinetic energy into potential energy, and vice versa, is afforded by the pendulum. When at the limits of its swing, the pendulum is for an instant at rest, and all the energy of the oscillation is static or potential. When passing through its position of equilibrium, since gravity can do no more work upon it without changing its fixed point of support, all the energy of oscillation is kinetic. At intermediate positions the energy is partly kinetic and partly potential.
A straightforward example of how kinetic energy turns into potential energy, and vice versa, is the pendulum. When it reaches the ends of its swing, the pendulum is momentarily at rest, and all the energy of the movement is static or potential. As it moves through its equilibrium position, gravity can’t do any more work on it unless its fixed point of support changes, so all the energy of movement is kinetic. In between those positions, the energy is a mix of kinetic and potential.
Available kinetic energy is possessed by a system of two or more bodies in virtue of the relative motion of its parts. Since our conception of velocity is essentially relative, it is plain that any property possessed by a body in virtue of its motion can be effectively possessed by it only in relation to those bodies with respect to which it is moving. If a body whose mass is m grammes be moving with a velocity of v centimetres per second relative to the earth, the available kinetic energy possessed by the system is ½mv² ergs if m be small relative to the earth. But if we consider two bodies each of mass m and one of them moving with velocity v relative to the other, only ¼mv² units of work is available from this system alone. Thus the estimation of kinetic energy is intimately affected by the choice of our base of measurement.
Available kinetic energy is held by a system of two or more bodies due to the relative motion of its parts. Since our understanding of velocity is fundamentally relative, it's clear that any property a body has because of its motion can really only be said to be possessed in relation to the bodies it is moving against. If a body with a mass of m grams is moving at a velocity of v centimeters per second relative to the earth, the available kinetic energy for the system is ½mv² ergs if m is small compared to the earth. However, if we look at two bodies each with a mass of m and one of them moving at a velocity v relative to the other, only ¼mv² units of work is available from this system alone. Thus, the calculation of kinetic energy is closely influenced by our choice of reference point for measurement.
When the stresses acting between the parts of a system depend only on the relative positions of those parts, the sum of the kinetic energy and potential energy of the system is always the same, provided the system be not acted upon by anything outside it. Such a system is called “conservative,” and is well illustrated by the swinging pendulum above referred to. But there are stresses which depend on the relative motion of the visible bodies between which they appear to act. When work is done against these forces no full equivalent of potential energy may be produced; this applies especially to frictional forces, for if the motion of the system be reversed the forces will be also reversed and will still oppose the motion. It was long believed that work done against such forces was lost, and it was not till the 19th century that the energy thus transformed was traced; the conservation of energy has become the master-key to unlock the connexions in inanimate nature.
When the stresses between the parts of a system depend only on their relative positions, the total kinetic energy and potential energy of the system remains constant, as long as nothing from outside is influencing it. This type of system is called "conservative," and a swinging pendulum is a good example of this. However, there are stresses that rely on the relative motion of the visible objects involved. When work is done against these forces, it might not lead to a full equivalent of potential energy; this is particularly true for frictional forces, since if the motion of the system is reversed, the forces will also reverse and continue to oppose the motion. For a long time, it was thought that work done against such forces was wasted, and it wasn't until the 19th century that the energy transformed in this way was understood; the principle of energy conservation has become the key to understanding the connections in inanimate nature.
It was pointed out by Thomson (Lord Kelvin) and P.G. Tait that Newton had divined the principle of the conservation of energy, so far as it belongs purely to mechanics. But what became of the work done against friction and such non-conservative forces remained obscure, while the chemical doctrine that heat was an indestructible substance afterwards led to the idea that it was lost. There was, however, even before Newton’s time, more than a suspicion that heat was a form of energy. Francis Bacon expressed his conviction that heat consists of a kind of motion or “brisk agitation” of the particles of matter. In the Novum Organum, after giving a long list of the sources of heat, he says: “From these examples, taken collectively as well as singly, the nature whose limit is heat appears to be motion.... It must not be thought that heat generates motion or motion heat (though in some respects this is true), but the very essence of heat, or the substantial self of heat, is motion and nothing else.”
It was noted by Thomson (Lord Kelvin) and P.G. Tait that Newton had figured out the principle of energy conservation, at least when it came to mechanics. However, the impact of work done against friction and other non-conservative forces remained unclear, while the chemical belief that heat was an indestructible substance later led to the idea that it was lost. Yet, even before Newton's time, there was more than a hint that heat is a form of energy. Francis Bacon expressed his belief that heat consists of a kind of motion or “brisk agitation” of the particles of matter. In the Novum Organum, after providing a lengthy list of heat sources, he states: “From these examples, taken collectively as well as singly, the nature whose limit is heat appears to be motion.... It must not be thought that heat generates motion or motion heat (though in some respects this is true), but the very essence of heat, or the substantial self of heat, is motion and nothing else.”
After Newton’s time the first vigorous effort to restore the universality of the doctrine of energy was made by Benjamin Thompson, Count Rumford, and was published in the Phil. Trans. for 1798. Rumford was engaged in superintending the boring of cannon in the military arsenal at Munich, and was struck by the amount of heat produced by the action of the boring bar upon the brass castings. In order to see whether the heat came out of the chips he compared the capacity for heat of the chips abraded by the boring bar with that of an equal quantity of the metal cut from the block by a fine saw, and obtained the same result in the two cases, from which he concluded that “the heat produced could not possibly have been furnished at the expense of the latent heat of the metallic chips.”
After Newton's time, the first strong effort to revive the universal concept of energy was made by Benjamin Thompson, Count Rumford, and it was published in the Phil. Trans. for 1798. Rumford was overseeing the boring of cannons at the military arsenal in Munich and noticed the significant heat generated by the boring bar interacting with the brass castings. To determine if the heat originated from the chips, he compared the heat capacity of the chips removed by the boring bar with that of an equal amount of metal cut from the block using a fine saw. He found that both cases yielded the same result, leading him to conclude that “the heat produced could not possibly have been furnished at the expense of the latent heat of the metallic chips.”
Rumford then turned up a hollow cylinder which was cast in one piece with a brass six-pounder, and having reduced the connexion between the cylinder and cannon to a narrow neck of metal, he caused a blunt borer to press against the hollow of the cylinder with a force equal to the weight of about 10,000 ℔, while the casting was made to rotate in a lathe. By this means the mean temperature of the brass was raised through about 70° Fahr., while the amount of metal abraded was only 837 grains.
Rumford then created a hollow cylinder that was cast as one piece with a brass six-pound cannon. He narrowed the connection between the cylinder and the cannon to a thin neck of metal, and used a blunt borer to press against the inside of the cylinder with a force equivalent to about 10,000 lbs, all while the casting rotated in a lathe. This process raised the average temperature of the brass by around 70°F, while only 837 grains of metal were worn away.
In order to be sure that the heat was not due to the action of the air upon the newly exposed metallic surface, the cylinder and the end of the boring bar were immersed in 18.77 ℔ of water contained in an oak box. The temperature of the water at the commencement of the experiment was 60° Fahr., and after two horses had turned the lathe for 2½ hours the water boiled. Taking into account the heat absorbed by the box and the metal, Rumford calculated that the heat developed was sufficient to raise 26.58 ℔ of water from the freezing to the boiling point, and in this calculation the heat lost by radiation and conduction was neglected. Since one horse was capable of doing the work required, Rumford remarked that one horse can generate heat as rapidly as nine wax candles burning in the ordinary manner.
To ensure that the heat wasn’t just a result of the air acting on the newly exposed metal surface, the cylinder and the end of the boring bar were placed in 18.77 lbs of water contained in an oak box. The water's temperature at the beginning of the experiment was 60° Fahrenheit, and after two horses had been working the lathe for 2.5 hours, the water boiled. Considering the heat absorbed by the box and the metal, Rumford calculated that the heat produced was enough to raise 26.58 lbs of water from freezing to boiling, and this calculation ignored the heat lost through radiation and conduction. Since one horse was able to perform the required work, Rumford noted that one horse can generate heat as quickly as nine standard wax candles burning normally.
Finally, Rumford reviewed all the sources from which the heat might have been supposed to be derived, and concluded that it was simply produced by the friction, and that the supply was inexhaustible. “It is hardly necessary to add,” he remarks, “that anything which any insulated body or system of bodies can continue to furnish without limitation cannot possibly be a material substance; and it appears to me to be extremely difficult, if not quite impossible, to form any distinct idea of anything capable of being excited and communicated in the manner that heat was excited and communicated in these experiments, except it be motion.”
Finally, Rumford looked over all the sources from which the heat might have been thought to come and concluded that it was simply created by friction, and that the supply was limitless. “It’s hardly necessary to add,” he notes, “that anything which any isolated body or system of bodies can keep providing without limitation cannot possibly be a material substance; and I find it extremely difficult, if not completely impossible, to form any clear idea of anything that can be generated and transferred in the way that heat was generated and transferred in these experiments, unless it is motion.”
About the same time Davy showed that two pieces of ice could be melted by rubbing them together in a vacuum, although 400 everything surrounding them was at a temperature below the freezing point. He did not, however, infer that since the heat could not have been supplied by the ice, for ice absorbs heat in melting, this experiment afforded conclusive proof against the substantial nature of heat.
About the same time, Davy demonstrated that two pieces of ice could be melted by rubbing them together in a vacuum, even though 400 everything around them was at a temperature below freezing. However, he did not conclude that since the heat could not have come from the ice, as ice absorbs heat when it melts, this experiment provided definitive proof against the real nature of heat.
Though we may allow that the results obtained by Rumford and Davy demonstrate satisfactorily that heat is in some way due to motion, yet they do not tell us to what particular dynamical quantity heat corresponds. For example, does the heat generated by friction vary as the friction and the time during which it acts, or is it proportional to the friction and the distance through which the rubbing bodies are displaced—that is, to the work done against friction—or does it involve any other conditions? If it can be shown that, however the duration and all other conditions of the experiment may be varied, the same amount of heat can in the end be always produced when the same amount of energy is expended, then, and only then, can we infer that heat is a form of energy, and that the energy consumed has been really transformed into heat. This was left for J.P. Joule to achieve; his experiments conclusively prove that heat and energy are of the same nature, and that all other forms of energy can be transformed into an equivalent amount of heat.
Though we can agree that the results obtained by Rumford and Davy show convincingly that heat is somehow related to motion, they don't specify which particular dynamic quantity corresponds to heat. For instance, does the heat generated by friction depend on the amount of friction and the time it acts, or is it proportional to the friction and the distance over which the surfaces are rubbed—that is, to the work done against friction—or does it involve other factors? If it's demonstrated that, regardless of how the duration and all other experimental conditions are changed, the same amount of heat can always be produced when the same amount of energy is spent, then, and only then, can we conclude that heat is a form of energy and that the energy used has truly been converted into heat. This was accomplished by J.P. Joule; his experiments convincingly show that heat and energy are essentially the same, and that all other forms of energy can be converted into an equivalent amount of heat.
The quantity of energy which, if entirely converted into heat, is capable of raising the temperature of the unit mass of water from 0° C. to 1° C. is called the mechanical equivalent of heat. One of the first who took in hand the determination of the mechanical equivalent of heat was Marc. Séguin, a nephew of J.M. Montgolfier. He argued that, if heat be energy, then, when it is employed in doing work, as in a steam-engine, some of the heat must itself be consumed in the operation. Hence he inferred that the amount of heat given up to the condenser of an engine when the engine is doing work must be less than when the same amount of steam is blown through the engine without doing any work. Séguin was unable to verify this experimentally, but in 1857 G.A. Hirn succeeded, not only in showing that such a difference exists, but in measuring it, and hence determining a tolerably approximate value of the mechanical equivalent of heat. In 1839 Séguin endeavoured to determine the mechanical equivalent of heat from the loss of heat suffered by steam in expanding, assuming that the whole of the heat so lost was consumed in doing external work against the pressure to which the steam was exposed. This assumption, however, cannot be justified, because it neglected to take account of work which might possibly have to be done within the steam itself during the expansion.
The amount of energy that can be completely converted into heat, which is capable of raising the temperature of a unit mass of water from 0° C. to 1° C., is called the mechanical equivalent of heat. One of the first people to try to determine the mechanical equivalent of heat was Marc Séguin, a nephew of J.M. Montgolfier. He argued that if heat is energy, then when it’s used to do work, like in a steam engine, some of the heat must be used up in the process. Therefore, he concluded that the amount of heat released to the condenser of the engine when it’s performing work must be less than when the same amount of steam passes through the engine without doing any work. Séguin couldn’t confirm this through experiments, but in 1857, G.A. Hirn succeeded not only in demonstrating that such a difference exists but also in measuring it, thereby finding a fairly approximate value for the mechanical equivalent of heat. In 1839, Séguin attempted to determine the mechanical equivalent of heat based on the heat lost by steam as it expands, assuming that all of the heat lost was used to do external work against the pressure imposed on the steam. This assumption, however, cannot be justified, because it overlooked the work that might need to be done within the steam itself during the expansion.
In 1842 R. Mayer, a physician at Heilbronn, published an attempt to determine the mechanical equivalent of heat from the heat produced when air is compressed. Mayer made an assumption the converse of that of Séguin, asserting that the whole of the work done in compressing the air was converted into heat, and neglecting the possibility of heat being consumed in doing work within the air itself or being produced by the transformation of internal potential energy. Joule afterwards proved (see below) that Mayer’s assumption was in accordance with fact, so that his method was a sound one as far as experiment was concerned; and it was only on account of the values of the specific heats of air at constant pressure and at constant volume employed by him being very inexact that the value of the mechanical equivalent of heat obtained by Mayer was very far from the truth.
In 1842, R. Mayer, a doctor in Heilbronn, published an effort to figure out the mechanical equivalent of heat based on the heat generated when air is compressed. Mayer assumed the opposite of what Séguin had suggested, claiming that all the work done in compressing the air was turned into heat, ignoring the chance that heat could be used to do work within the air itself or be generated by changing internal potential energy. Joule later demonstrated (see below) that Mayer’s assumption was accurate, making his method solid in terms of experimentation; however, the values he used for the specific heats of air at constant pressure and constant volume were quite inaccurate, which led to Mayer calculating a value for the mechanical equivalent of heat that was significantly off.
Passing over L.A. Colding, who in 1843 presented to the Royal Society of Copenhagen a paper entitled “Theses concerning Force,” which clearly stated the “principle of the perpetuity of energy,” and who also performed a series of experiments for the purpose of determining the heat developed by the compression of various bodies, which entitle him to be mentioned among the founders of the modern theory of energy, we come to Dr James Prescott Joule of Manchester, to whom we are indebted more than to any other for the establishment of the principle of the conservation of energy on the broad basis on which it has since stood. The best-known of Joule’s experiments was that in which a brass paddle consisting of eight arms rotated in a cylindrical vessel of water containing four fixed vanes, which allowed the passage of the arms of the paddle but prevented the water from rotating as a whole. The paddle was driven by weights, and the temperature of the water was observed by thermometers which could indicate 1⁄200th of a degree Fahrenheit. Special experiments were made to determine the work done against resistances outside the vessel of water, which amounted to about .006 of the whole, and corrections were made for the loss of heat by radiation, the buoyancy of the air affecting the descending weights, and the energy dissipated when the weights struck the floor with a finite velocity. From these experiments Joule obtained 72.692 foot-pounds in the latitude of Manchester as equivalent to the amount of heat required to raise 1 ℔ of water through 1° Fahr, from the freezing point. Adopting the centigrade scale, this gives 1390.846 foot-pounds.
Ignoring L.A. Colding, who in 1843 presented a paper titled “Theses concerning Force” to the Royal Society of Copenhagen, clearly stating the “principle of the perpetuity of energy” and conducting experiments to measure the heat generated by compressing various materials—earning him recognition among the founders of modern energy theory—we turn to Dr. James Prescott Joule of Manchester. We owe him more than anyone else for establishing the principle of the conservation of energy as we know it today. The most famous of Joule’s experiments involved a brass paddle with eight arms that rotated in a cylindrical water vessel, which had four fixed vanes. These allowed the paddle's arms to pass through but prevented the water from rotating as a whole. The paddle was powered by weights, and the temperature of the water was measured using thermometers capable of detecting 1⁄200th of a degree Fahrenheit. Additional experiments were conducted to measure the work done against external resistance, which accounted for about .006 of the total. Corrections were also applied for heat loss due to radiation, the buoyancy of the air affecting the weights, and energy lost when the weights hit the ground at a certain velocity. From these experiments, Joule found that 72.692 foot-pounds in Manchester's latitude was equivalent to the heat required to raise 1 pound of water by 1° Fahrenheit from its freezing point. Using the centigrade scale, this converts to 1390.846 foot-pounds.
With an apparatus similar to the above, but smaller, made of iron and filled with mercury, Joule obtained results varying from 772.814 foot-pounds when driving weights of about 58 ℔ were employed to 775.352 foot-pounds when the driving weights were only about 19½ ℔. By causing two conical surfaces of cast-iron immersed in mercury and contained in an iron vessel to rub against one another when pressed together by a lever, Joule obtained 776.045 foot-pounds for the mechanical equivalent of heat when the heavy weights were used, and 774.93 foot-pounds with the small driving weights. In this experiment a great noise was produced, corresponding to a loss of energy, and Joule endeavoured to determine the amount of energy necessary to produce an equal amount of sound from the string of a violoncello and to apply a corresponding correction.
With a similar but smaller setup made of iron and filled with mercury, Joule got results ranging from 772.814 foot-pounds when using weights of about 58 lbs to 775.352 foot-pounds with lighter weights of about 19½ lbs. By having two cast-iron conical surfaces immersed in mercury and rubbing against each other while pressed together by a lever, Joule achieved 776.045 foot-pounds for the mechanical equivalent of heat with the heavy weights and 774.93 foot-pounds with the lighter weights. This experiment generated a lot of noise, indicating a loss of energy, and Joule tried to calculate the energy required to create the same amount of sound from a cello string to apply a corresponding correction.
The close agreement between the results at least indicates that “the amount of heat produced by friction is proportional to the work done and independent of the nature of the rubbing surfaces.” Joule inferred from them that the mechanical equivalent of heat is probably about 772 foot-pounds, or, employing the centigrade scale, about 1390 foot-pounds.
The strong agreement between the results indicates that “the amount of heat produced by friction is proportional to the work done and independent of the type of rubbing surfaces.” Joule concluded from this that the mechanical equivalent of heat is likely around 772 foot-pounds, or, using the Celsius scale, about 1390 foot-pounds.
Previous to determining the mechanical equivalent of heat by the most accurate experimental method at his command, Joule established a series of cases in which the production of one kind of energy was accompanied by a disappearance of some other form. In 1840 he showed that when an electric current was produced by means of a dynamo-magneto-electric machine the heat generated in the conductor, when no external work was done by the current, was the same as if the energy employed in producing the current had been converted into heat by friction, thus showing that electric currents conform to the principle of the conservation of energy, since energy can neither be created nor destroyed by them. He also determined a roughly approximate value for the mechanical equivalent of heat from the results of these experiments. Extending his investigations to the currents produced by batteries, he found that the total voltaic heat generated in any circuit was proportional to the number of electrochemical equivalents electrolysed in each cell multiplied by the electromotive force of the battery. Now, we know that the number of electrochemical equivalents electrolysed is proportional to the whole amount of electricity which passed through the circuit, and the product of this by the electromotive force of the battery is the work done by the latter, so that in this case also Joule showed that the heat generated was proportional to the work done.
Before determining the mechanical equivalent of heat using the most precise experimental method available to him, Joule established several cases where the creation of one form of energy was accompanied by the loss of another. In 1840, he demonstrated that when an electric current was generated using a dynamo-magneto-electric machine, the heat produced in the conductor—when no external work was performed by the current—was equivalent to the heat that would result if the energy used to create the current had been transformed into heat through friction. This showed that electric currents adhered to the principle of conservation of energy, meaning energy cannot be created or destroyed by them. He also found a rough estimate for the mechanical equivalent of heat based on the results of these experiments. By extending his research to currents generated by batteries, he discovered that the total voltages of heat produced in any circuit were proportional to the number of electrochemical equivalents electrolyzed in each cell multiplied by the electromotive force of the battery. We know that the number of electrochemical equivalents electrolyzed is proportional to the total amount of electricity that flowed through the circuit, and the product of this and the electromotive force of the battery represents the work done by it. Thus, in this case as well, Joule demonstrated that the heat generated was proportional to the work done.
In 1844 and 1845 Joule published a series of researches on the compression and expansion of air. A metal vessel was placed in a calorimeter and air forced into it, the amount of energy expended in compressing the air being measured. Assuming that the whole of the energy was converted into heat, when the air was subjected to a pressure of 21.5 atmospheres Joule obtained for the mechanical equivalent of heat about 824.8 foot-pounds, and when a pressure of only 10.5 atmospheres was employed the result was 796.9 foot-pounds.
In 1844 and 1845, Joule published a series of studies on how air compresses and expands. A metal container was placed in a calorimeter, and air was forced into it, with the energy used to compress the air being measured. Assuming that all the energy converted into heat, Joule found that at a pressure of 21.5 atmospheres, the mechanical equivalent of heat was about 824.8 foot-pounds, and at a pressure of only 10.5 atmospheres, the result was 796.9 foot-pounds.
In the next experiment the air was compressed as before, and then allowed to escape through a long lead tube immersed in the water of a calorimeter, and finally collected in a bell jar. The amount of heat absorbed by the air could thus be measured, while the work done by it in expanding could be readily calculated. In allowing the air to expand from a pressure of 21 atmospheres 401 to that of 1 atmosphere the value of the mechanical equivalent of heat obtained was 821.89 foot-pounds. Between 10 atmospheres and 1 it was 815.875 foot-pounds, and between 23 and 14 atmospheres 761.74 foot-pounds.
In the next experiment, the air was compressed as before and then allowed to escape through a long lead tube placed in the water of a calorimeter, finally collecting it in a bell jar. The amount of heat absorbed by the air could be measured this way, while the work done by it during expansion could easily be calculated. When the air expanded from a pressure of 21 atmospheres to that of 1 atmosphere, the value of the mechanical equivalent of heat obtained was 821.89 foot-pounds. Between 10 atmospheres and 1, it was 815.875 foot-pounds, and between 23 and 14 atmospheres, it was 761.74 foot-pounds.
But, unlike Mayer and Séguin, Joule was not content with assuming that when air is compressed or allowed to expand the heat generated or absorbed is the equivalent of the work done and of that only, no change being made in the internal energy of the air itself when the temperature is kept constant. To test this two vessels similar to that used in the last experiment were placed in the same calorimeter and connected by a tube with a stop-cock. One contained air at a pressure of 22 atmospheres, while the other was exhausted. On opening the stop-cock no work was done by the expanding air against external forces, since it expanded into a vacuum, and it was found that no heat was generated or absorbed. This showed that Mayer’s assumption was true. On repeating the experiment when the two vessels were placed in different calorimeters, it was found that heat was absorbed by the vessel containing the compressed air, while an equal quantity of heat was produced in the calorimeter containing the exhausted vessel. The heat absorbed was consumed in giving motion to the issuing stream of air, and was reproduced by the impact of the particles on the sides of the exhausted vessel. The subsequent researches of Dr Joule and Lord Kelvin (Phil. Trans., 1853, p. 357, 1854, p. 321, and 1862, p. 579) showed that the statement that no internal work is done when a gas expands or contracts is not quite true, but the amount is very small in the cases of those gases which, like oxygen, hydrogen and nitrogen, can only be liquefied by intense cold and pressure.
But unlike Mayer and Séguin, Joule wasn't satisfied with just assuming that when air is compressed or allowed to expand, the heat produced or absorbed is solely equivalent to the work done and doesn't change the internal energy of the air itself when the temperature stays constant. To test this, two vessels similar to the one used in the last experiment were placed in the same calorimeter and connected by a tube with a stop-cock. One held air at a pressure of 22 atmospheres, while the other was empty. When the stop-cock was opened, no work was done by the expanding air against external forces since it expanded into a vacuum, and it was observed that no heat was generated or absorbed. This confirmed that Mayer’s assumption was correct. When repeating the experiment with the two vessels in different calorimeters, it was found that heat was absorbed by the vessel containing the compressed air, while an equal amount of heat was produced in the calorimeter with the empty vessel. The heat absorbed was used to give motion to the air stream that was exiting, and it was recreated by the impact of the particles against the walls of the empty vessel. Further research by Dr. Joule and Lord Kelvin (Phil. Trans., 1853, p. 357, 1854, p. 321, and 1862, p. 579) revealed that the claim that no internal work is done when a gas expands or contracts isn't entirely accurate, but the amount is very small in the cases of gases like oxygen, hydrogen, and nitrogen, which can only be liquefied by extreme cold and pressure.
For a long time the final result deduced by Joule by these varied and careful investigations was accepted as the standard value of the mechanical equivalent of heat. Recent determinations by H.A. Rowland and others, necessitated by modern requirements, have shown that it is in error, but by less than 1%. The writings of Joule, which thus occupy the place of honour in the practical establishment of the conservation of energy, have been collected into two volumes published by the Physical Society of London. On the theoretical side the greatest stimulus came from the publication in 1847, without knowledge of Mayer or Joule, of Helmholtz’s great memoir, Über die Erhaltung der Kraft, followed immediately (1848-1852) by the establishment of the science of thermodynamics (q.v.), mainly by R. Clausius and Lord Kelvin on the basis of “Carnot’s principle” (1824), modified in expression so as to be consistent with the conservation of energy (see Energetics).
For a long time, the final result determined by Joule through these thorough investigations was accepted as the standard value of the mechanical equivalent of heat. Recent findings by H.A. Rowland and others, prompted by modern needs, have shown that it is slightly inaccurate, but by less than 1%. Joule's writings, which hold a prestigious place in the practical establishment of the conservation of energy, have been compiled into two volumes published by the Physical Society of London. On the theoretical front, the biggest influence came from the publication in 1847, without knowledge of Mayer or Joule, of Helmholtz’s significant paper, Über die Erhaltung der Kraft, followed shortly after (1848-1852) by the development of thermodynamics (q.v.), primarily by R. Clausius and Lord Kelvin based on “Carnot’s principle” (1824), adjusted in wording to align with the conservation of energy (see Energetics).
Though we can convert the whole of the energy possessed by any mechanical system into heat, it is not in our power to perform the inverse operation, and to utilize the whole of the heat in doing mechanical work. Thus we see that different forms of energy are not equally valuable for conversion into work. The ratio of the portion of the energy of a system which can under given conditions be converted into mechanical work to the whole amount of energy operated upon may be called the “availability” of the energy. If a system be removed from all communication with anything outside of itself, the whole amount of energy possessed by it will remain constant, but will of its own accord tend to undergo such transformations as will diminish its availability. This general law, known as the principle of the “dissipation of energy,” was first adequately pointed out by Lord Kelvin in 1852; and was applied by him to some of the principal problems of cosmical physics. Though controlling all phenomena of which we have any experience, the principle of the dissipation of energy rests on a very different foundation from that of the conservation of energy; for while we may conceive of no means of circumventing the latter principle, it seems that the actions of intelligent beings are subject to the former only in consequence of the rudeness of the machinery which they have at their disposal for controlling the behaviour of those ultimate portions of matter, in virtue of the motions or positions of which the energy with which they have to deal exists. If we have a weight capable of falling through a certain distance, we can employ the mutual forces of the system consisting of the earth and weight to do an amount of useful work which is less than the full amount of potential energy possessed by the system only in consequence of the friction of the constraints, so that the limit of availability in this case is determined only by the friction which is unavoidable. Here we have to deal with a transformation with which we can grapple, and which can be controlled for our purposes. If, on the other hand, we have to deal with a system of molecules of whose motions in the aggregate we become conscious only by indirect means, while we know absolutely nothing either of the motions or positions of any individual molecule, it is obvious that we cannot grasp single molecules and control their movements so as to derive the full amount of work from the system. All we can do in such cases is to place the system under certain conditions of transformation, and be content with the amount of work which it is, as it were, willing to render up under those conditions. Thus the principle of Carnot involves the conclusion that a greater proportion of the heat possessed by a body at a high temperature can be converted into work than in the case of an equal quantity of heat possessed by a body at a low temperature, so that the availability of heat increases with the temperature.
Though we can convert all the energy in any mechanical system into heat, we can't do the opposite and use all that heat to perform mechanical work. This shows that different forms of energy aren't equally valuable for converting into work. The ratio of the part of a system's energy that can, under certain conditions, be converted into mechanical work to the total amount of energy involved can be referred to as the “availability” of that energy. If a system is isolated from everything outside it, the total amount of energy it has will stay constant, but it will naturally tend to change in ways that reduce its availability. This principle, known as the "dissipation of energy," was first clearly identified by Lord Kelvin in 1852 and was applied to major problems in cosmical physics. While it governs all phenomena we experience, the principle of dissipation of energy is based on a very different foundation than the conservation of energy. We can’t think of any way to bypass the latter principle, but the actions of intelligent beings only adhere to the former due to the limitations of the mechanisms they use to control the behavior of fundamental matter portions, based on the movements or positions that the energy they deal with relies on. If we have a weight that can fall a certain distance, we can use the forces between the earth and the weight to do some useful work, but this will be less than the total potential energy in the system solely because of unavoidable friction in the constraints. Here, we’re dealing with a transformation we can manage and that can be controlled for our purposes. However, if we’re working with a system of molecules whose collective motions we only perceive indirectly, and we have no real understanding of the movements or positions of individual molecules, it's clear that we can't grasp single molecules and control their movements to extract the full amount of work from the system. In such cases, all we can do is set the system in specific transformation conditions and accept the amount of work it is willing to produce under those conditions. Thus, Carnot's principle leads to the conclusion that a greater portion of heat from a high-temperature body can be converted into work compared to an equal amount of heat from a low-temperature body, meaning that the availability of heat increases with temperature.
Clerk Maxwell supposed two compartments, A and B, to be filled with gas at the same temperature, and to be separated by an ideal, infinitely thin partition containing a number of exceedingly small trap-doors, each of which could be opened or closed without any expenditure of energy. An intelligent creature, or “demon,” possessed of unlimited powers of vision, is placed in charge of each door, with instructions to open the door whenever a particle in A comes towards it with more than a certain velocity V, and to keep it closed against all particles in A moving with less than this velocity, but, on the other hand, to open the door whenever a particle in B approaches it with less than a certain velocity v, which is not greater than V, and to keep it closed against all particles in B moving with a greater velocity than this. By continuing this process every unit of mass which enters B will carry with it more energy than each unit which leaves B, and hence the temperature of the gas in B will be raised and that of the gas in A lowered, while no heat is lost and no energy expended; so that by the application of intelligence alone a portion of gas of uniform pressure and temperature may be sifted into two parts, in which both the temperature and the pressure are different, and from which, therefore, work can be obtained at the expense of heat. This shows that the principle of the dissipation of energy has control over the actions of those agents only whose faculties are too gross to enable them to grapple individually with the minute portions of matter which are the seat of energy.
Clerk Maxwell imagined two compartments, A and B, filled with gas at the same temperature, separated by an ideal, infinitely thin partition with several tiny trap doors. Each door could be opened or closed without using any energy. An intelligent being, or "demon," with perfect vision is assigned to each door, instructed to open it whenever a particle from A approaches with speed greater than a certain level V and to keep it closed against all particles from A moving slower than that speed. Conversely, the demon will open the door for any particle from B that approaches with speed less than a certain level v (which is not greater than V), and keep it closed against particles in B moving faster. By repeatedly doing this, every unit of mass that enters B will have more energy than each unit that leaves, causing the temperature of the gas in B to rise while the temperature in A drops, without any heat loss or energy expenditure. Thus, through pure intelligence, a portion of gas at a uniform pressure and temperature can be separated into two parts with different temperature and pressure, allowing work to be done at the expense of heat. This demonstrates that the principle of energy dissipation only governs agents whose abilities are too basic to handle the tiny bits of matter where energy is found.
In 1875 Lord Rayleigh published an investigation on “the work which may be gained during the mixing of gases.” In the preface he states the position that “whenever, then, two gases are allowed to mix without the performance of work, there is dissipation of energy, and an opportunity of doing work at the expense of low temperature heat has been for ever lost.” He shows that the amount of work obtainable is equal to that which can be done by the first gas in expanding into the space occupied by the second (supposed vacuous) together with that done by the second in expanding into the space occupied by the first. In the experiment imagined by Lord Rayleigh a porous diaphragm takes the place of the partition and trap-doors imagined by Clerk Maxwell, and the molecules sort themselves automatically on account of the difference in their average velocities for the two gases. When the pressure on one side of the diaphragm thus becomes greater than that on the other, work may be done at the expense of heat in pushing the diaphragm, and the operation carried on with continual gain of work until the gases are uniformly diffused. There is this difference, however, between this experiment and the operation imagined by Maxwell, that when the gases have diffused the experiment cannot be repeated; and it is no more contrary to the dissipation of energy than is the fact that work may be derived at the expense of heat when a gas expands into a vacuum, for the working substance is not finally restored to its original condition; while Maxwell’s “demons” may operate without limit.
In 1875, Lord Rayleigh published a study on "the work that can be gained from mixing gases." In the preface, he claims that "whenever two gases are allowed to mix without any work being done, energy is wasted, and the chance to do work using low-temperature heat is forever lost." He shows that the amount of work that can be obtained is equal to what the first gas can do while expanding into the space occupied by the second (which is considered empty) plus what the second gas can do while expanding into the space of the first. In the experiment envisioned by Lord Rayleigh, a porous diaphragm replaces the partition and trapdoors imagined by Clerk Maxwell, and the molecules arrange themselves automatically due to the differences in their average speeds for the two gases. When the pressure on one side of the diaphragm becomes greater than on the other, work can be done using heat to push the diaphragm, and this process can continue to gain work until the gases are evenly mixed. However, there is one difference between this experiment and Maxwell's scenario: once the gases have mixed, the experiment cannot be repeated; and this is no more of a challenge to energy dissipation than the fact that work can be obtained from heat when a gas expands into a vacuum, because the working substance doesn't return to its original state; whereas Maxwell’s "demons" can operate indefinitely.
In such experiments the molecular energy of a gas is converted into work only in virtue of the molecules being separated into classes in which their velocities are different, and these classes then allowed to act upon one another through the intervention of a suitable heat-engine. This sorting can occur spontaneously to a limited extent; while if we could carry it out as far as we pleased we might transform the whole of the heat of a body into work. The theoretical availability of heat is limited only by our power of bringing those particles whose motions constitute heat in bodies to rest relatively to one another; and we have precisely similar practical limits to the availability of the energy due to the motion of visible and tangible bodies, though theoretically we can then trace all the stages.
In these experiments, the molecular energy of a gas is turned into work only because the molecules are grouped into classes with different velocities, and these classes are then allowed to interact with each other using a suitable heat engine. This sorting can happen naturally to some extent, but if we could do it fully, we might be able to convert all the heat of a body into work. The theoretical potential to use heat is limited only by our ability to bring the particles that create heat in bodies to a standstill relative to one another; similar practical limits exist for the energy stemming from the movement of visible and tangible objects, even though theoretically we can trace all the processes involved.
If a battery of electromotive force E maintain a current C in a conductor, and no other electromotive force exist in the circuit, the whole of the work done will be converted into heat, and the amount of work done per second will be EC. If R denote the resistance of the whole circuit, E = CR, and the heat generated per second is C²R. If the current drive an electromagnetic engine, the reaction of the engine will produce an electromotive force opposing the current. Suppose the current to be thus reduced to C′. Then the work done by the battery per second will be EC′ or CC′R, while the heat generated per second will be C’²R, so that we have the difference (C - C′)C′R for the energy consumed in driving the engine. The ratio of this to the whole work done by the battery is (C - C′)/C, so that the efficiency is increased by diminishing C′. If we could drive the engine so fast as to reduce C′ to zero, the whole of the energy of the battery would be available, no heat being produced in the wires, but the horse-power of the engine would be indefinitely small. The reason why the whole of the energy of the current is not available is that heat must always be generated in a wire in which a finite current is flowing, so that, in the case of a battery in which the whole of the energy of chemical affinity is employed in producing a current, the availability of the energy is limited only on account of the resistance of the conductors, and may be increased by diminishing this resistance. The availability of the energy of electrical separation in a charged Leyden jar is also limited only by the resistance of conductors, in virtue of which an amount of heat is necessarily produced, which is greater the less the time occupied in discharging the jar. The availability of the energy of magnetization is limited by the coercive force of the magnetized material, in virtue of which any change in the intensity of magnetization is accompanied by the production of heat.
If a battery with electromotive force E maintains a current C in a conductor, and there are no other electromotive forces in the circuit, all the work done will turn into heat, and the work done per second will be EC. If R represents the resistance of the entire circuit, then E = CR, and the heat generated per second will be C²R. If the current drives an electromagnetic engine, the engine's reaction will create an electromotive force that opposes the current. Let’s say the current is reduced to C′. Then, the work done by the battery per second will be EC′ or CC′R, while the heat generated per second will be C’²R, resulting in the difference of (C - C′)C′R for the energy used to drive the engine. The ratio of this energy to the total work done by the battery is (C - C′)/C, which means efficiency increases by lowering C′. If we could drive the engine fast enough to reduce C′ to zero, all the energy from the battery would be usable, with no heat produced in the wires, but the engine's horsepower would be extremely low. The reason we can’t access all the energy from the current is that heat is always generated in a wire with a current flowing through it; therefore, in a battery where the total energy from chemical affinity is used to create a current, the usability of that energy is limited only by the resistance of the conductors, and it can be improved by reducing that resistance. The usable energy from electrical separation in a charged Leyden jar is also restricted solely by conductor resistance, which inevitably produces heat that increases the shorter the time taken to discharge the jar. The usability of energy from magnetization is limited by the coercive force of the magnetized material, resulting in heat production whenever the intensity of magnetization changes.
In all cases there is a general tendency for other forms of energy to be transformed into heat on account of the friction of rough surfaces, the resistance of conductors, or similar causes, and thus to lose availability. In some cases, as when heat is converted into the kinetic energy of moving machinery or the potential energy of raised weights, there is an ascent of energy from the less available form of heat to the more available form of mechanical energy, but in all cases this is accompanied by the transfer of other heat from a body at a high temperature to one at a lower temperature, thus losing availability to an extent that more than compensates for the rise.
In general, there's a common trend for other types of energy to be turned into heat due to friction from rough surfaces, resistance in conductors, or similar reasons, which causes a loss of usability. In some situations, like when heat is changed into the kinetic energy of moving machines or the potential energy of lifted weights, energy shifts from the less usable form of heat to the more usable form of mechanical energy. However, this always involves the transfer of heat from a hot body to a cooler one, resulting in a loss of usability that outweighs the increase in energy efficiency.
It is practically important to consider the rate at which energy may be transformed into useful work, or the horse-power of the agent. It generally happens that to obtain the greatest possible amount of work from a given supply of energy, and to obtain it at the greatest rate, are conflicting interests. We have seen that the efficiency of an electromagnetic engine is greatest when the current is indefinitely small, and then the rate at which it works is also indefinitely small. M.H. von Jacobi showed that for a given electromotive force in the battery the horse-power is greatest when the current is reduced to one-half of what it would be if the engine were at rest. A similar condition obtains in the steam-engine, in which a great rate of working necessitates the dissipation of a large amount of energy.
It’s crucial to think about how quickly energy can be converted into useful work, or the horse-power of the system. Usually, trying to get the maximum amount of work from a set amount of energy and doing so at the fastest rate are competing goals. We've observed that the efficiency of an electromagnetic engine is highest when the current is very low, which also means that the rate at which it operates is very low. M.H. von Jacobi demonstrated that for a specific electromotive force from the battery, the horse-power is highest when the current is cut down to half of what it would be if the engine were stationary. A similar situation occurs in steam engines, where a high working rate requires a significant amount of energy to be lost.
ENFANTIN, BARTHÉLEMY PROSPER (1796-1864), French social reformer, one of the founders of Saint-Simonism, was born at Paris on the 8th of February 1796. He was the son of a banker of Dauphiny, and after receiving his early education at a lyceum, was sent in 1813 to the École Polytechnique. In March 1814 he was one of the band of students who, on the heights of Montmartre and Saint-Chaumont, attempted resistance to the armies of the allies then engaged in the investment of Paris. In consequence of this outbreak of patriotic enthusiasm, the school was soon after closed by Louis XVIII., and the young student was compelled to seek some other career instead of that of the soldier. He first engaged himself to a country wine merchant, for whom he travelled in Germany, Russia and the Netherlands. In 1821 he entered a banking-house newly established at St Petersburg, but returned two years later to Paris, where he was appointed cashier to the Caisse Hypothécaire. At the same time he became a member of the secret society of the Carbonari. In 1825 a new turn was given to his thoughts and his life by the friendship which he formed with Olinde Rodriguez, who introduced him to Saint-Simon. He embraced the new doctrines with ardour, and by 1829 had become one of the acknowledged heads of the sect (see Saint-Simon).
ENFANTIN, BARTHÉLEMY PROSPER (1796-1864), a French social reformer and one of the founders of Saint-Simonism, was born in Paris on February 8, 1796. He was the son of a banker from Dauphiné and after his early education at a lyceum, he was sent in 1813 to the École Polytechnique. In March 1814, he was among a group of students who, on the heights of Montmartre and Saint-Chaumont, tried to resist the allied armies that were then besieging Paris. Due to this outburst of patriotic enthusiasm, the school was soon closed by Louis XVIII, and the young student had to look for another career instead of becoming a soldier. He initially worked for a local wine merchant, traveling through Germany, Russia, and the Netherlands. In 1821, he joined a newly established bank in St. Petersburg, but returned to Paris two years later, where he became the cashier for the Caisse Hypothécaire. At the same time, he became a member of the secret society called the Carbonari. In 1825, his thoughts and life took a new direction when he befriended Olinde Rodriguez, who introduced him to Saint-Simon. He passionately embraced the new doctrines and by 1829 had become one of the recognized leaders of the sect (see Saint-Simon).
After the Revolution of 1830 Enfantin resigned his office of cashier, and devoted himself wholly to his cause. Besides contributing to the Globe newspaper, he made appeals to the people by systematic preaching, and organized centres of action in some of the principal cities of France. The headquarters in Paris were removed from the modest rooms in the Rue Taranne, and established in large halls near the Boulevard Italien. Enfantin and Bazard (q.v.) were proclaimed “Pères Suprêmes.” This union of the supreme fathers, however, was only nominal. A divergence was already manifest, which rapidly increased to serious difference and dissension. Bazard had devoted himself to political reform, Enfantin to social and moral change; Bazard was organizer and governor, Enfantin was teacher and consoler; the former attracted reverence, the latter love. A hopeless antagonism arose between them, which was widened by Enfantin’s announcement of his theory of the relation of man and woman, which would substitute for the “tyranny of marriage” a system of “free love.” Bazard now separated from his colleague, and in his withdrawal was followed by all those whose chief aim was philosophical and political. Enfantin thus became sole “father,” and the few who were chiefly attracted by his religious pretensions and aims still adhered to him. New converts joined them, and Enfantin assumed that his followers in France numbered 40,000. He wore on his breast a badge with his title of “Père,” was spoken of by his preachers as “the living law,” declared, and probably believed, himself to be the chosen of God, and sent out emissaries in a quest of a woman predestined to be the “female Messiah,” and the mother of a new Saviour. The quest was very costly and altogether fruitless. No such woman was discoverable. Meanwhile believers in Enfantin and his new religion were multiplying in all parts of Europe. His extravagances and success at length brought down upon him the hand of the law. Public morality was in peril, and in May 1832 the halls of the new sect were closed by the government, and the father, with some of his followers, appeared before the tribunals. He now retired to his estate at Menilmontant, near Paris, where with forty disciples, all of them men, he continued to carry out his socialistic views. In August of the same year he was again arrested, and on his appearance in court he desired his defence to be undertaken by two women who were with him, alleging that the matter was of special concern to women. This was of course refused. The trial occupied two days and resulted in a verdict of guilty, and a sentence of imprisonment for a year with a small fine.
After the 1830 Revolution, Enfantin quit his job as cashier and dedicated himself entirely to his cause. In addition to writing for the Globe newspaper, he reached out to the public through organized preaching and set up action centers in several major cities across France. The headquarters in Paris moved from the small rooms on Rue Taranne to larger halls near Boulevard Italien. Enfantin and Bazard (q.v.) were named “Supreme Fathers.” However, this partnership was merely symbolic, as differences quickly surfaced and grew into significant conflict. Bazard focused on political reform, while Enfantin concentrated on social and moral changes; Bazard was an organizer and leader, while Enfantin saw himself as a teacher and comforter. This led to a fundamental conflict between them, exacerbated by Enfantin's announcement of his views on the relationship between men and women, which proposed replacing the “tyranny of marriage” with a system of “free love.” Bazard then broke away from Enfantin, taking with him those primarily interested in philosophical and political aims. This left Enfantin as the sole “father,” with only a few followers, mainly drawn to his religious claims and goals. He welcomed new converts and claimed that his followers in France numbered 40,000. He wore a badge with his title of “Father,” was referred to by his preachers as “the living law,” and declared—and likely believed—that he was chosen by God. He even sent out representatives to find a woman destined to be the “female Messiah” and the mother of a new Savior. The search was expensive and ultimately fruitless; no such woman could be found. Meanwhile, belief in Enfantin and his new religion spread throughout Europe. His outrageous behavior and growing success eventually drew the attention of the law. Concerned about public morality, the government shut down the new sect's halls in May 1832, and Enfantin, along with some of his followers, faced trial. He retreated to his estate in Menilmontant, near Paris, where he continued to promote his socialist ideas with forty male disciples. In August of the same year, he was arrested again and requested that two women with him represent him in court, arguing the matter was of particular concern to women. This request was denied. The trial lasted two days, resulting in a guilty verdict and a sentence of one year in prison along with a small fine.
This prosecution finally discredited the new society. Enfantin was released in a few months, and then, accompanied by some of his followers, he went to Egypt. He stayed there two years, and might have entered the service of the viceroy if he would have professed himself, as a few of his friends did, a Mahommedan. On his return to France, a sadder and practically a wiser man, he settled down to very prosaic work. He became first a postmaster near Lyons, and in 1841 was appointed, through the influence of some of his friends who had risen to posts of power, member of a scientific commission on Algeria, which led him to engage in researches concerning North Africa and colonization in general. 403 in 1845 he was appointed a director of the Paris & Lyons railway. Three years later he established, in conjunction with Duveyrier, a daily journal, entitled Le Crédit, which was discontinued in 1850. He was afterwards attached to the administration of the railway from Lyons to the Mediterranean. Father Enfantin held fast by his ideal to the end, but he had renounced the hope of giving it a local habitation and a name in the degenerate obstinate world. His personal influence over those who associated with him was immense. “He was a man of a noble presence, with finely formed and expressive features. He was gentle and insinuating in manner, and possessed a calm, graceful and winning delivery” (Gent. Mag., Jan. 1865). His evident sincerity, his genuine enthusiasm, gave him his marvellous ascendancy. Not a few of his disciples ranked afterwards amongst the most distinguished men of France. He died suddenly at Paris on the 1st of September 1864.
This trial ultimately discredited the new society. Enfantin was released after a few months, and then, along with some of his followers, he traveled to Egypt. He stayed there for two years and might have served the viceroy if he had chosen to convert to Islam, as some of his friends did. When he returned to France, he was a sadder and practically wiser man and settled into very ordinary work. He first became a postmaster near Lyon, and in 1841, thanks to the support of some friends who had risen to positions of power, he was appointed as a member of a scientific commission on Algeria, which led him to research about North Africa and colonization in general. 403 In 1845, he was appointed director of the Paris & Lyons railway. Three years later, he co-founded a daily newspaper with Duveyrier called Le Crédit, which ceased publication in 1850. He was then connected to the administration of the railway from Lyon to the Mediterranean. Father Enfantin held on to his ideals until the end, but he had given up on the hope of establishing them in a stubborn, declining world. His personal influence over those around him was immense. “He was a man of noble presence, with finely formed and expressive features. He was gentle and persuasive in his manner, possessing a calm, graceful, and engaging delivery” (Gent. Mag., Jan. 1865). His evident sincerity and genuine enthusiasm gave him remarkable influence. Many of his disciples later became some of the most distinguished figures in France. He died suddenly in Paris on September 1, 1864.
Amongst his works are—Doctrine de Saint-Simon (written in conjunction with several of his followers), published in 1830, and several times republished; Économie politique et politique Saint-Simonienne (1831); Correspondance politique (1835-1840); Corresp. philos. et religieuse (1843-1845); and La Vie éternelle passée, présente, future (1861). A large number of articles by his hand appeared in Le Producteur, L’Organisateur, Le Globe, and other periodicals. He also wrote in 1832 Le Livre nouveau, intended as a substitute for the Christian Scriptures, but it was not published.
Among his works are—Doctrine de Saint-Simon (written with several of his followers), published in 1830 and republished several times; Économie politique et politique Saint-Simonienne (1831); Correspondance politique (1835-1840); Corresp. philos. et religieuse (1843-1845); and La Vie éternelle passée, présente, future (1861). A lot of articles by him appeared in Le Producteur, L’Organisateur, Le Globe, and other periodicals. He also wrote Le Livre nouveau in 1832, which was meant to replace the Christian Scriptures, but it was never published.
See G. Weill, L’École Saint-Simonienne, son histoire, son influence, jusqu’ à nos jours (Paris, 1896).
See G. Weill, The Saint-Simonian School, its history, its influence, up to the present day (Paris, 1896).
ENFIDAVILLE [Dar-el-Bey], a town of Tunisia, on the railway between Tunis and Susa, 30 m. N.E. of the last-named place and 5 m. inland from the Gulf of Hammamet. Enfidaville is the chief settlement on the Enfida estate, a property of over 300,000 acres in the Sahel district of Tunisia, forming a rectangle between the towns of Hammamet, Susa, Kairawan and Zaghwan. On this estate, devoted to the cultivation of cereals, olives, vines and to pasturage, are colonies of Europeans and natives. At Enfidaville, where was, as its native name indicates, a palace of the beys of Tunis, there is a large horse-breeding establishment and a much-frequented weekly market. About 5 m. N. of Enfidaville is Henshir Fraga (anc. Uppenna), where are ruins of a large fortress and of a church in which were found mosaics with epitaphs of various bishops and martyrs.
ENFIDAVILLE [Dar-el-Bey], a town in Tunisia, situated on the railway line between Tunis and Susa, is 30 miles northeast of Susa and 5 miles inland from the Gulf of Hammamet. Enfidaville is the main settlement on the Enfida estate, which spans over 300,000 acres in the Sahel region of Tunisia, forming a rectangle between Hammamet, Susa, Kairawan, and Zaghwan. This estate focuses on farming cereals, olives, and grapes, as well as livestock grazing, and is home to communities of both Europeans and locals. In Enfidaville, where a palace of the beys of Tunis once stood, there is a prominent horse-breeding facility and a popular weekly market. About 5 miles north of Enfidaville lies Henshir Fraga (anc. Uppenna), where you can find the ruins of a large fortress and a church that contained mosaics with epitaphs of various bishops and martyrs.
The Enfida estate was granted by the bey Mahommed-es-Sadok to his chief minister Khaireddin Pasha (q.v.) in return for the confirmation by the sultan of Turkey in 1871, through the instrumentality of the pasha, of the right of succession to the beylik of members of Es-Sadok’s family. When, some years later, Khaireddin left Tunisia for Constantinople he sold the estate to a Marseilles company, which resold it to the Société Franco-africaine.
The Enfida estate was given by Bey Mahommed-es-Sadok to his chief minister Khaireddin Pasha (q.v.) in exchange for the sultan of Turkey confirming in 1871, through Khaireddin, the right of succession to the beylik for members of the Es-Sadok family. A few years later, when Khaireddin moved from Tunisia to Constantinople, he sold the estate to a company from Marseille, which then resold it to the Société Franco-africaine.
ENFIELD, a township of Hartford county, Connecticut, U.S.A., in the N. part of the state, on the E. bank of the Connecticut river, 20 m. N. of Hartford. It has an area of 35 sq. m., with three villages—Thompsonville, Hazardville and Enfield. Pop. (1890) 7199; (1900) 6699 (1812 foreign-born); (1910) 9719. Its principal manufactures are gunpowder, carpets, brick, cotton press machinery, and coffin hardware. In Enfield and its vicinity much tobacco is grown. First settled in 1679, Enfield was a part of the township of Springfield, Massachusetts, until 1683, when it was made a separate township; in 1749 it became a part of Connecticut. At a town meeting on the 11th of July 1774 it was resolved that “a firm and inviolable union of our colonies is absolutely necessary for the defence of our civil rights,” and that “the most effectual measures to defeat the machinations of the enemies of His Majesty’s government and the liberties of America is to break off all commercial intercourse with Great Britain and the West Indies until these oppressive acts for raising a revenue in America are repealed.” A Shaker community was established in the township in 1781, at what is now called Shaker Station.
ENFIELD, is a township in Hartford County, Connecticut, U.S.A., located in the northern part of the state on the eastern bank of the Connecticut River, 20 miles north of Hartford. It covers an area of 35 square miles and includes three villages—Thompsonville, Hazardville, and Enfield. The population was 7,199 in 1890; 6,699 in 1900 (1,812 foreign-born); and 9,719 in 1910. The main products manufactured here include gunpowder, carpets, bricks, cotton press machinery, and coffin hardware. A significant amount of tobacco is grown in Enfield and the surrounding area. First settled in 1679, Enfield was part of Springfield, Massachusetts, until 1683, when it became its own township; it became part of Connecticut in 1749. At a town meeting on July 11, 1774, it was agreed that “a strong and unwavering union of our colonies is absolutely necessary for the defense of our civil rights,” and that “the most effective way to counter the schemes of those against His Majesty’s government and the liberties of America is to cut off all commercial trade with Great Britain and the West Indies until these oppressive revenue-raising acts in America are repealed.” A Shaker community was established in the township in 1781, at what is now known as Shaker Station.
See Francis Olcutt Allen, History of Enfield (Lancaster, Pa., 1900).
See Francis Olcutt Allen, History of Enfield (Lancaster, PA, 1900).
ENFIELD, a market town in the Enfield parliamentary division of Middlesex, England, 11 m. N. of London Bridge, on the Great Northern and Great Eastern railways. Pop. of urban district, (1891) 31,536, (1901) 42,738. It is picturesquely situated on the western slope of the Lea valley, with a considerable extension towards the river, mainly consisting of artisans’ dwellings (Churchbury, Ponder’s End, and Enfield Highway on the Old North Road). Great numbers of villas occupied by those whose work lies in London have grown up; and many of the inhabitants are employed in the Royal Small Arms factory at Enfield Lock. The church of St Andrew is mainly Perpendicular, but has Early English portions; it contains several ancient monuments and brasses, and flanks the market-place, with its modern cross. Enfield Palace fronts the High Street; it retains portions of the building of Edward VI., but has been greatly altered. The grammer school, near the church, was founded in 1557. The New River flows through the parish, and Sir Hugh Myddleton, its projector, was for some time resident here. Middleton House, named after him, is one of several fine mansions in the vicinity. Of these, Forty Hall, in splendidly timbered grounds, is from the designs of Inigo Jones; and a former mansion occupying the site of White Webbs House was suspected as the scene of the hatching of Gunpowder Plot. The parish is of great extent (12,653 acres).
ENFIELD, is a market town in the Enfield parliamentary division of Middlesex, England, located 11 miles north of London Bridge, on the Great Northern and Great Eastern railways. The population of the urban district was 31,536 in 1891 and 42,738 in 1901. It is beautifully situated on the western slope of the Lea valley, with a significant expansion toward the river, mostly consisting of artisan houses (Churchbury, Ponder's End, and Enfield Highway on the Old North Road). A large number of villas have been built for those commuting to London, and many residents work at the Royal Small Arms factory in Enfield Lock. The church of St Andrew is primarily Perpendicular in style but includes some Early English features; it houses several ancient monuments and brasses and overlooks the market square, complete with a modern cross. Enfield Palace is located along the High Street; it retains parts of the original building from the time of Edward VI but has undergone significant alterations. The grammar school near the church was established in 1557. The New River runs through the parish, and Sir Hugh Myddleton, its creator, lived here for a while. Middleton House, named after him, is one of several impressive mansions in the area. Among these, Forty Hall, set in beautifully wooded grounds, was designed by Inigo Jones; and a former mansion on the site of White Webbs House was rumored to have been the location where the Gunpowder Plot was planned. The parish is quite large, covering 12,653 acres.
An Anglo-Saxon derivation, signifying “forest clearing,” is indicated for the name. Enfield Chase was a royal preserve, disafforested in 1777. The principal manor of Enfield, which was held by Asgar, Edward the Confessor’s master of horse, was in the hands of the Norman baron Geoffrey de Mandeville at the time of Domesday, and belonged to the Bohun family in the 12th and 13th centuries. It came, by succession and marriage, into the possession of the crown under Henry IV., and was included in the duchy of Lancaster. There were, however, seven other manors, and of these one, Worcesters, came to the crown in the time of Henry VIII., whose children resided at the manor-house, Elsynge Hall. Edward VI., settling both manors upon the princess Elizabeth, rebuilt Enfield Palace for her. She was a frequent resident here not only before but after her accession to the throne. About 1664 the palace was occupied as a school by Robert Uvedale (1642-1722), who was also an eminent horticulturist, planted the magnificent cedar still standing in the palace grounds, and formed a herbarium now in the Sloane collection at the British Museum. The town received grants of markets from Edward I. and James I.
An Anglo-Saxon origin meaning “forest clearing,” is associated with the name. Enfield Chase was a royal hunting ground, which was removed from forest status in 1777. The main manor of Enfield, originally held by Asgar, Edward the Confessor’s master of horse, was under the control of the Norman baron Geoffrey de Mandeville at the time of the Domesday Book, and it belonged to the Bohun family in the 12th and 13th centuries. It eventually came to be owned by the crown through succession and marriage under Henry IV and became part of the Duchy of Lancaster. There were, however, seven other manors, one of which, Worcesters, came to the crown during Henry VIII’s reign, whose children lived at the manor house, Elsynge Hall. Edward VI, who settled both manors on Princess Elizabeth, rebuilt Enfield Palace for her. She frequently stayed here both before and after she became queen. Around 1664, the palace was used as a school by Robert Uvedale (1642-1722), an accomplished horticulturist, who planted the impressive cedar that still stands in the palace grounds and created a herbarium now in the Sloane collection at the British Museum. The town was granted market rights by Edward I and James I.
ENFILADE (a French word, from enfiler, to thread, and so to pass through from end to end), a military term used to express the direction of fire along an enemy’s line, or parapet. This species of fire is most demoralizing and destructive, since, from its direction, very few guns or rifles can be brought to bear to meet it. If any considerable body of men changes front, it immediately lays itself open to enfilade from the enemy whom it originally faced. Against entrenchments, or the parapets of fortifications, enfilade is still more effective, as the enemy is deprived of the protection given by his works and is no better covered than if he were in the open. Banks of earth, built perpendicular to the line of defence (called traverses), are usually employed to protect parapets or trenches against enfilade.
ENFILADE (a French term from enfiler, meaning to thread or pass through from end to end), is a military term used to refer to the direction of fire along an enemy's line or parapet. This type of fire is extremely demoralizing and destructive because very few guns or rifles can effectively respond to it due to its direction. If a significant group of soldiers changes direction, it becomes vulnerable to enfilade fire from the enemy it originally faced. When attacking fortifications or parapets, enfilade is even more deadly, as the enemy loses the protection provided by their defenses and is exposed as if they were in the open. Earth mounds built perpendicular to the line of defense (known as traverses) are typically used to shield parapets or trenches from enfilade fire.
ENGADINE (Ger. Engadin; Ital. Engadina; Ladin, Engiadina), the name of the upper or Swiss portion of the valley of the Inn, which forms part of the Swiss canton of the Grisons. Its length by carriage road from the Maloja plateau (5935 ft.) at its south-western end to Martinsbruck (3406 ft.) at its north-eastern extremity is about 59 m. It is to be noted that up to and including St Moritz (6037 ft., the highest) all the villages (save Sils-Baseglia) at its south-western end are higher than the Maloja plateau itself. The uppermost portion of the valley contains several lakes, which, as one descends, gradually diminish in size, those of Sils, Silvaplana and St Moritz. But both the Maloja plateau and the south-western half of the lake of Sils belong to the commune of Stampa in the Val Bregaglia, and are included in the Bregaglia administrative district, so that, from a political point of view, Sils is the first village that is included in the Engadine. The rest of the Engadine forms the districts of the Upper Engadine with eleven communes, and of the Inn (i.e. the Lower Engadine), subdivided into the Ob Tasna, Remüs, and Unter Tasna circles, and containing twelve communes.
ENGADINE (Ger. Engadin; Ital. Engadina; Ladin, Engiadina), the name of the upper or Swiss part of the Inn valley, which is part of the Swiss canton of Graubünden. The distance by road from the Maloja plateau (5935 ft.) at its southwestern end to Martinsbruck (3406 ft.) at its northeastern end is about 59 miles. It's worth noting that up to St. Moritz (6037 ft., the highest) all the villages (except Sils-Baseglia) at its southwestern end are higher than the Maloja plateau itself. The upper part of the valley has several lakes that gradually get smaller as you go down, including Sils, Silvaplana, and St. Moritz. However, both the Maloja plateau and the southwestern half of Lake Sils belong to the municipality of Stampa in Val Bregaglia, and are part of the Bregaglia administrative district, making Sils the first village politically included in the Engadine. The rest of the Engadine consists of the Upper Engadine districts with eleven municipalities, and the Inn (i.e. the Lower Engadine), which is subdivided into the Ob Tasna, Remüs, and Unter Tasna circles, containing twelve municipalities.
In 1900 the total population of the Engadine was 11,712, of 404 whom 5429 were in the Upper Engadine and 6283 in the Lower Engadine. In point of religion 8594 were Protestants (4923 in the Lower Engadine and 3671 in the Upper Engadine), and 3086 Romanists (1728 in the Upper Engadine and 1358 in the Lower Engadine), while there were 12 Jews in the Upper Engadine and 2 in the Lower Engadine: in the Upper Engadine the majority in each commune was Protestant (the Romanists strongest in St Moritz), as also in the case of the Lower Engadine, save Tarasp and Samnaun, where the Romanists prevail. In point of language 7609 inhabitants (5010 in the Lower Engadine and 2599 in the Upper Engadine) spoke the curious Ladin dialect (a survival of a primitive Romance tongue), and 2221 German (1265 in the Upper Engadine and 956 in the Lower Engadine). The capital of the Upper Engadine is Samaden (967 inhabitants), and that of the Lower Engadine, Schuls (1117 inhabitants). In 1908 there were no railways in the Engadine, save about 8 m. (from the mouth of the tunnel past Bevers and Samaden to St Moritz village) of the railway pierced (1898-1902) beneath (5987 ft.) the Albula Pass (7595 ft.), which now affords the easiest means of access from Coire to St Moritz (56 m.); but many railways in and to the Engadine have been planned. The valley is reached by many passes (over which excellent carriage roads were constructed 1820-1872). The Maloja (5935 ft.) is the route from Chiavenna and the Lake of Como to the Upper Engadine, which is also reached from Coire by the Julier (7504 ft.) and the Albula Passes (7595 ft.) as well as from Tirano in the Valtellina by the Bernina Pass (7645 ft.). On the other hand, the Lower Engadine is accessible from Davos over the Flüela Pass (7838 ft.) and from Mals at the head of the Adige valley (or the Vintschgau) by the Ofen Pass (7071 ft.), while from Martinsbruck, the last Swiss village, a carriage road leads up to Nauders (5 m.), whence it is 27 m. by road down the Inn valley to Landeck on the Arlberg railway, or 17½ m. over the Reschen Scheideck Pass (4902 ft.) to Mals in the Vintschgau.
In 1900, the total population of the Engadine was 11,712, of whom 5,429 were in the Upper Engadine and 6,283 in the Lower Engadine. In terms of religion, there were 8,594 Protestants (4,923 in the Lower Engadine and 3,671 in the Upper Engadine) and 3,086 Roman Catholics (1,728 in the Upper Engadine and 1,358 in the Lower Engadine), with 12 Jews in the Upper Engadine and 2 in the Lower Engadine. In the Upper Engadine, the majority in each commune was Protestant (with Roman Catholics being strongest in St. Moritz), and the same was true for the Lower Engadine, except for Tarasp and Samnaun, where Roman Catholics were dominant. In terms of language, 7,609 inhabitants (5,010 in the Lower Engadine and 2,599 in the Upper Engadine) spoke the unique Ladin dialect (a remnant of an ancient Romance language), while 2,221 spoke German (1,265 in the Upper Engadine and 956 in the Lower Engadine). The capital of the Upper Engadine is Samaden (967 inhabitants), and the capital of the Lower Engadine is Schuls (1,117 inhabitants). By 1908, there were no railways in the Engadine except for about 8 miles (from the mouth of the tunnel past Bevers and Samaden to St. Moritz village) of the railway that was built (1898-1902) beneath the Albula Pass (5,987 ft.), which now provides the easiest route from Coire to St. Moritz (56 miles); however, many railways have been planned to serve the Engadine. The valley can be accessed through many passes (over which excellent carriage roads were built from 1820 to 1872). The Maloja Pass (5,935 ft.) is the route from Chiavenna and Lake Como to the Upper Engadine, which can also be reached from Coire via the Julier Pass (7,504 ft.) and the Albula Pass (7,595 ft.), as well as from Tirano in the Valtellina by way of the Bernina Pass (7,645 ft.). The Lower Engadine is accessible from Davos via the Flüela Pass (7,838 ft.) and from Mals at the head of the Adige valley (or Vintschgau) via the Ofen Pass (7,071 ft.), while from Martinsbruck, the last Swiss village, a carriage road leads up to Nauders (5 miles), from where it is 27 miles by road down the Inn valley to Landeck on the Arlberg railway, or 17½ miles over the Reschen Scheideck Pass (4,902 ft.) to Mals in the Vintschgau.
The Upper Engadine consists of a long, straight, nearly level trough of 26 m., varying from a mile to half a mile in breadth, through which flows the Inn. On the south-east this trough is limited by the lofty glacier-clad Bernina group (culminating in the Piz Bernina, 13,304 ft.) and the range rising between the Inn valley and that of Livigno to the south-east, while on the north-west the boundary is the extensive Albula group (culminating in Piz Kesch, 11,228 ft.). The Lower Engadine is far more picturesque and romantic than the Upper Engadine, the Inn valley being here much narrower and the fall greater. On its north-west rises the last bit of the Albula group (culminating in Piz Vadret, 10,584 ft.), and on the north the Silvretta group (culminating in Piz Linard, 11,201 ft.), while to the east and south are the ranges on either side of the Ofen Pass (culminating in Piz Sesvenna, 10,568 ft.). In the Upper Engadine the villages are on the floor of the valley, but in the Lower Engadine many are perched high above the bed of the river on terraces, and are cut off from each other by deep ravines.
The Upper Engadine is a long, straight, nearly flat trough of 26 m, ranging from a mile to half a mile in width, through which the Inn River flows. To the southeast, this trough is bordered by the towering, glacier-covered Bernina group (with Piz Bernina reaching 13,304 ft.) and the range that rises between the Inn valley and the Livigno valley to the southeast, while to the northwest, the boundary is defined by the expansive Albula group (with Piz Kesch topping out at 11,228 ft.). The Lower Engadine is much more scenic and romantic than the Upper Engadine, as the Inn valley here is considerably narrower and the elevation drop is greater. To the northwest, the last section of the Albula group rises (with Piz Vadret at 10,584 ft.), and to the north lies the Silvretta group (with Piz Linard at 11,201 ft.), while to the east and south are the mountain ranges flanking the Ofen Pass (with Piz Sesvenna at 10,568 ft.). In the Upper Engadine, the villages sit on the valley floor, but in the Lower Engadine, many are located high above the riverbed on terraces and are separated from each other by deep gorges.
The Upper Engadine is far better known to foreign visitors than the Lower Engadine, and is consequently much richer and more prosperous. The mineral waters of St Moritz (q.v.) were known and employed in the 16th century, and long formed the great attraction of the region. But about the middle of the 19th century the Upper Engadine came into fashion as a great “air-cure,” and now Maloja, Sils, Silvaplana, Campfer and St Moritz are all well known; those who desire to explore the glaciers of the Bernina group mostly resort to Pontresina, on the Flatzbach, the stream descending from the Bernina Pass. Yet, owing to its great elevation, the scenery of the Upper Engadine has a bleak, northern aspect. Pines and larches alone flourish, garden vegetables are grown only in sunny spots, and there is no tillage. The Alpine flora is very rich and varied. But snow falls even in August, and the climate is well described in the proverb, “nine months winter, and three months cold weather.” The villages are built entirely of stone (as also in the Lower Engadine), chiefly to guard against destructive fires that were formerly frequent in this narrow, wind-swept valley. The wealth of the inhabitants consists in their hay meadows and pastures. The lower pastures support large herds of cows, while the higher are let out (in both parts of the valley) to Bergamasque shepherds, who come thither every summer with their flocks. In the Lower Engadine the chief attraction is formed by the mineral springs at Schuls below Tarasp, which are much frequented during the summer. The wild gorge of Finstermünz separates the last Swiss village, Martinsbruck, from the first Tirolese village, Pfunds, the gorge being passable only on foot, while the carriage road makes a great detour by way of Nauders, so that the two villages named are 13 m. by road from each other. The earliest full description of the country by an English traveller is that by Archdeacon W. Coxe, in Travels in Switzerland (London, 1789).
The Upper Engadine is much more popular with foreign visitors than the Lower Engadine, making it richer and more prosperous. The mineral waters of St. Moritz (q.v.) were known and used in the 16th century and were the main attraction of the area for a long time. However, around the mid-19th century, the Upper Engadine became popular for its "air-cure," and now Maloja, Sils, Silvaplana, Campfer, and St. Moritz are all well-known. Those looking to explore the glaciers of the Bernina group mostly go to Pontresina, located on the Flatzbach, a stream flowing from the Bernina Pass. Despite its high elevation, the scenery in the Upper Engadine has a cold, northern feel. Only pines and larches thrive; garden vegetables can only be grown in sunny spots, and farming is minimal. The Alpine flora is very rich and diverse. However, snow can fall even in August, and the climate is often summed up by the saying, “nine months of winter, and three months of cold weather.” The villages are entirely made of stone (as is the case in the Lower Engadine), primarily to protect against destructive fires that used to happen often in this narrow, windy valley. The wealth of the locals comes from their hay meadows and pastures. The lower pastures support large herds of cows, while the higher pastures are rented out (in both parts of the valley) to Bergamasque shepherds, who come every summer with their flocks. In the Lower Engadine, the main attraction is the mineral springs at Schuls, below Tarasp, which are very popular in the summer. The wild gorge of Finstermünz separates the last Swiss village, Martinsbruck, from the first Tyrolean village, Pfunds; the gorge can only be crossed on foot, while the car road takes a long detour through Nauders, making the two villages 13 miles apart by road. The earliest comprehensive description of the region by an English traveler is by Archdeacon W. Coxe in Travels in Switzerland (London, 1789).
The Upper Engadine is not mentioned in authentic documents till 1139, the bishop of Coire being then the great lord, and, from the 13th century, having as his bailiffs the family of Planta, the original seat of which was at Zuz. The valley obtained its freedom from both in 1486 (Planta) and in 1526, when the temporal powers of the bishop were abolished. In 1367 it (as well as the bishop’s vassals in the Lower Engadine) joined the newly founded League of God’s House or Gotteshausbund (see Grisons), one of the 3 Raetian Leagues, which lasted till 1799-1801, when the whole Engadine became part of Canton Raetia of the Helvetic Republic, which, in 1803, altered its name to that of Grisons or Graubünden, and then first entered the Swiss Confederation. In the Upper Engadine the “Referendum” existed as between the different villages composing a bailiwick (Hochgericht). The history of the Lower Engadine is for long quite different. Though always comprised in the diocese of Coire, it formed from the early 9th century onwards (with the Vintschgau) a separate county, which was gradually absorbed in that which, later, took the name of the county of Tirol. The limit between the Upper Engadine and the Tirolese Lower Engadine was definitively fixed in 1282 at the Punt’ Ota (the high bridge) just above Brail, and mentioned in 1139 already. In 1363 Tirol came into the possession of the Habsburgers, who were troublesome neighbours both to the Upper Engadine and to the League of God’s House. Their power was stemmed in 1499 at the battle of the Calven gorge (above Mals), though it was only in 1652 that the Lower Engadine bought up the remaining rights of the Habsburgers. But the castle of Tarasp (acquired by them in 1464) was excepted: the lordship was given by them in 1687 to the Dietrichstein family, and held by it till 1801, when Austria ceded it to France, which, in 1803, handed it over to the Swiss Confederation, by which it was incorporated in 1809 with the Canton of the Grisons. This long connexion with Tirol accounts for the fact that Tarasp is still mainly Romanist, while the lonely Swiss valley of Samnaun (above Martinsbruck) has given up its Protestantism and its Ladin speech owing to communications with Tirol being easier than with Switzerland. The bears in the bear pit at Bern come from the forests in the lower Spöl valley, above Zernez, in the Lower Engadine, on the way to the Ofen Pass. The upper Spöl valley (Livigno) is Italian (see Valtellina).
The Upper Engadine isn't mentioned in official documents until 1139, when the bishop of Coire was the main authority, and from the 13th century, his bailiffs were the Planta family, originally based in Zuz. The valley gained its independence from both in 1486 (Planta) and in 1526, when the bishop's temporal powers were abolished. In 1367, it (along with the bishop's vassals in the Lower Engadine) joined the newly established League of God’s House or Gotteshausbund (see Grisons), one of the three Raetian Leagues, which continued until 1799-1801, when the entire Engadine became part of Canton Raetia of the Helvetic Republic, which changed its name to Grisons or Graubünden in 1803 and then joined the Swiss Confederation. In the Upper Engadine, the “Referendum” was a practice among the various villages within a jurisdiction (Hochgericht). The history of the Lower Engadine is quite different for a long time. Although it was always part of the diocese of Coire, it formed a separate county from the early 9th century onwards (along with Vintschgau), which was gradually merged into what later became known as the county of Tirol. The boundary between the Upper Engadine and the Tyrolean Lower Engadine was officially set in 1282 at the Punt’ Ota (the high bridge) just above Brail, which was already mentioned in 1139. In 1363, Tirol came under the control of the Habsburgs, who were problematic neighbors to both the Upper Engadine and the League of God’s House. Their influence was curtailed in 1499 at the battle of the Calven gorge (above Mals), but it wasn't until 1652 that the Lower Engadine purchased the remaining rights from the Habsburgs. However, the castle of Tarasp (acquired by them in 1464) was excluded: in 1687, they granted lordship of it to the Dietrichstein family, which held it until 1801, when Austria ceded it to France, which in turn transferred it to the Swiss Confederation in 1803, incorporating it into the Canton of Grisons in 1809. This long association with Tirol explains why Tarasp is still predominantly Roman Catholic, while the isolated Swiss valley of Samnaun (above Martinsbruck) has lost its Protestantism and its Ladin language due to easier communication with Tirol than with Switzerland. The bears in the bear pit in Bern come from the forests in the lower Spöl valley, above Zernez, in the Lower Engadine, on the way to the Ofen Pass. The upper Spöl valley (Livigno) is Italian (see Valtellina).
Authorities.—M. Caviezel, Das Oberengadin, 7th edition (Coire, 1896); C. Decurtius, Rätoromanische Chrestomathie, vols. v.-ix. (Erlangen, 1899-1908), deals with the two divisions of the Engadine from the 16th century to modern times; Mrs H. Freshfield, A Summer Tour in the Grisons and the Italian Valleys of the Bernina (London, 1862); E. Imhof, Itinerarium des S.A.C. für die Albulagruppe (Bern, 1893), and Itinerarium des S.A.C. für die Silvretta- und Ofenpassgruppe (Mountains of the Lower Engadine) (Bern, 1898); E. Lechner, Das Oberengadin in der Vergangenheit und Gegenwart (Leipzig, 1900); A. Lorria and E.A. Martel, Le Massif de la Bernina (complete monograph on the Upper Engadine, with full bibliography) (Zürich, 1894); P.C. von Planta, Die Currätischen Herrschaften in der Feudalzeit (Bern, 1881); Z. and E. Pallioppi, Dizionari dels Idioms Romauntschs d’Engiadina ota e bassa, &c. (Samaden, 1895); F. de B. Strickland, The Engadine, 2nd edition (London and Samaden, 1891); J. Ulrich, Rätoromanische Chrestomathie, vol. ii. (Halle, 1882).
Authorities.—M. Caviezel, Das Oberengadin, 7th edition (Coire, 1896); C. Decurtius, Rätoromanische Chrestomathie, vols. v.-ix. (Erlangen, 1899-1908), covers the two divisions of the Engadine from the 16th century to modern times; Mrs. H. Freshfield, A Summer Tour in the Grisons and the Italian Valleys of the Bernina (London, 1862); E. Imhof, Itinerarium des S.A.C. für die Albulagruppe (Bern, 1893), and Itinerarium des S.A.C. für die Silvretta- und Ofenpassgruppe (Mountains of the Lower Engadine) (Bern, 1898); E. Lechner, Das Oberengadin in der Vergangenheit und Gegenwart (Leipzig, 1900); A. Lorria and E.A. Martel, Le Massif de la Bernina (a complete monograph on the Upper Engadine, with a full bibliography) (Zürich, 1894); P.C. von Planta, Die Currätischen Herrschaften in der Feudalzeit (Bern, 1881); Z. and E. Pallioppi, Dizionari dels Idioms Romauntschs d’Engiadina ota e bassa, & c. (Samaden, 1895); F. de B. Strickland, The Engadine, 2nd edition (London and Samaden, 1891); J. Ulrich, Rätoromanische Chrestomathie, vol. ii. (Halle, 1882).
ENGAGED COLUMN, in architecture, a form of column, sometimes defined as semi or three-quarter detached according to its projection; the term implies that the column is partly attached to a pier or wall. It is rarely found in Greek work, and then only in exceptional cases, but it exists in profusion in Roman architecture. In the temples it is attached to the cella walls. 405 repeating the columns of the peristyle, and in the theatres and amphitheatres, where they subdivided the arched openings: in all these cases engaged columns are utilized as a decorative feature, and as a rule the same proportions are maintained as if they had been isolated columns. In Romanesque work the classic proportions are no longer adhered to; the engaged column, attached to the piers, has always a special function to perform, either to support subsidiary arches, or, raised to the vault, to carry its transverse or diagonal ribs. The same constructional object is followed in the earlier Gothic styles, in which they become merged into the mouldings. Being virtually always ready made, so far as their design is concerned, they were much affected by the Italian revivalists.
ENGAGED COLUMN, In architecture, an engaged column is a type of column that is partially attached to a pier or wall, often referred to as semi or three-quarter detached based on how much it projects. This style is rarely seen in Greek architecture, appearing only in exceptional instances, but is abundant in Roman architecture. In temples, engaged columns connect to the cella walls, 405 mirroring the columns of the peristyle, and in theatres and amphitheatres, where they divide the arched openings. In these instances, engaged columns are used mainly for decoration, usually maintaining the same proportions as if they were freestanding columns. In Romanesque architecture, the classic proportions are not always followed; engaged columns attached to piers typically serve a specific purpose, either supporting smaller arches or, when raised to the vault, carrying transverse or diagonal ribs. This same structural role is also seen in earlier Gothic styles, where they blend into the mouldings. Since their design is almost always predetermined, they were significantly influenced by the Italian revivalists.
ENGEL, ERNST (1821-1896), German political economist and statistician, was born in Dresden on the 21st of March 1821. He studied at the famous mining academy of Freiberg, in Saxony, and on completing his curriculum travelled in Germany and France. Immediately after the revolution of 1848 he was attached to the royal commission in Saxony appointed to determine the relations between trade and labour. In 1850 he was directed by the government to assist in the organization of the German Industrial Exhibition of Leipzig (the first of its kind). The success which crowned his efforts was so great that in 1854 he was induced to enter the government service, as chief of the newly instituted statistical department. He retired, however, from the office in 1858. He founded at Dresden the first Mortgage Insurance Society (Hypotheken-Versicherungsgesellschaft), and as a result of the success of his work was summoned in 1860 to Berlin as director of the statistical department, in succession to Karl Friedrich Wilhelm Dieterici (1790-1859). In his new office he made himself a name of world-wide reputation. Raised to the rank of Geheimer Regierungsrat, he retired in 1882 and lived henceforward in Radebeul near Dresden, where he died on the 8th of December 1896. Engel was a voluminous writer on the subjects with which his name is connected, but his statistical papers are mostly published in the periodicals which he himself established, viz. Preuss. Statistik (in 1861); Zeitschrift des Statistischen Bureaus, and Zeitschrift des Statistischen Bureaus des Königreichs Sachsen.
ENGEL, ERNST (1821-1896), a German political economist and statistician, was born in Dresden on March 21, 1821. He studied at the renowned mining academy in Freiberg, Saxony, and after completing his studies, he traveled through Germany and France. Right after the revolution of 1848, he was appointed to a royal commission in Saxony to examine the relationships between trade and labor. In 1850, the government assigned him to help organize the first German Industrial Exhibition in Leipzig. His efforts were so successful that in 1854, he was persuaded to join the government as the head of a newly established statistical department. However, he left this position in 1858. He founded the first Mortgage Insurance Society in Dresden, and because of his success, he was called to Berlin in 1860 as the director of the statistical department, succeeding Karl Friedrich Wilhelm Dieterici (1790-1859). In this new role, he gained international recognition. Elevated to the rank of Geheimer Regierungsrat, he retired in 1882 and lived in Radebeul near Dresden, where he died on December 8, 1896. Engel was a prolific writer on the topics related to his name, but most of his statistical papers were published in the journals he established, including Preuss. Statistik (in 1861); Zeitschrift des Statistischen Bureaus, and Zeitschrift des Statistical Bureaus des Königreichs Sachsen.
ENGEL, JOHANN JAKOB (1741-1802), German author, was born at Parchim, in Mecklenburg, on the 11th of September 1741. He studied theology at Rostock and Bützow, and philosophy at Leipzig, where he took his doctor’s degree. In 1776 he was appointed professor of moral philosophy and belles-lettres in the Joachimstal gymnasium at Berlin, and a few years later he became tutor to the crown prince of Prussia, afterwards Frederick William III. The lessons which he gave his royal pupil in ethics and politics were published in 1798 under the title Fürstenspiegel, and are a favourable specimen of his powers as a popular philosophical writer. In 1787 he was admitted a member of the Academy of Sciences of Berlin, and in the same year he became director of the royal theatre, an office he resigned in 1794. He died on the 28th of June 1802.
ENGEL, JOHANN JAKOB (1741-1802), a German author, was born in Parchim, Mecklenburg, on September 11, 1741. He studied theology at Rostock and Bützow, and philosophy at Leipzig, where he earned his doctorate. In 1776, he was appointed professor of moral philosophy and literature at the Joachimstal Gymnasium in Berlin, and a few years later, he became a tutor to the Crown Prince of Prussia, who later became Frederick William III. The lessons he taught his royal student in ethics and politics were published in 1798 as Fürstenspiegel, showcasing his talent as a popular philosophical writer. In 1787, he became a member of the Academy of Sciences of Berlin, and the same year, he took on the role of director of the royal theater, which he resigned from in 1794. He passed away on June 28, 1802.
Besides numerous dramas, some of which had a considerable success, Engel wrote several valuable books on aesthetic subjects. His Anfangsgründe einer Theorie der Dichtungsarten (1783) showed fine taste and acute critical faculty if it lacked imagination and poetic insight. The same excellences and the same defects were apparent in his Ideen zu einer Mimik (1785), written in the form of letters. His most popular work was Der Philosoph für die Welt (1775), which consists chiefly of dialogues on men and morals, written from the utilitarian standpoint of the philosophy of the day. His last work, a romance entitled Herr Lorenz Stark (1795), achieved a great success, by virtue of the marked individuality of its characters and its appeal to middle-class sentiment.
Besides countless dramas, some of which were quite successful, Engel wrote several valuable books on aesthetic topics. His Anfangsgründe einer Theorie der Dichtungsarten (1783) displayed great taste and sharp critical skills, even though it lacked imagination and poetic insight. The same strengths and weaknesses were evident in his Ideen zu einer Mimik (1785), which was written in the form of letters. His most popular work was Der Philosoph für die Welt (1775), primarily made up of dialogues about people and morals, written from the utilitarian perspective of the philosophy of the time. His final work, a novel titled Herr Lorenz Stark (1795), was a major success due to the distinctive individuality of its characters and its resonance with middle-class values.
Engel’s Sämtliche Schriften were published in 12 volumes at Berlin in 1801-1806; a new edition appeared at Frankfort in 1851. See K. Schröder, Johann Jakob Engel (Vortrag) (1897).
Engel’s Sämtliche Schriften were published in 12 volumes in Berlin from 1801 to 1806; a new edition came out in Frankfurt in 1851. See K. Schröder, Johann Jakob Engel (lecture) (1897).
ENGELBERG, an Alpine village and valley in central Switzerland, much frequented by visitors in summer and to some extent in winter. It is 14 m. by electric railway from Stansstad, on the Lake of Lucerne, past Stans. The village (3343 ft.) is in a mountain basin, shut in on all sides by lofty mountains (the highest is the Titlis, 10,627 ft. in the south-east), so that it is often hot in summer. It communicates by the Surenen Pass (7563 ft.) with Wassen, on the St Gotthard railway, and by the Joch Pass (7267 ft.) past the favourite summer resort of the Engstlen Alp (6034 ft.), with Meiringen in the Bernese Oberland. The village has clustered round the great Benedictine monastery which gives its name to the valley, from the legend that its site was fixed by angels, so that the spot was named “Mons Angelorum.” The monastery was founded about 1120 and still survives, though the buildings date only from the early 18th century. Its library suffered much at the hands of the French in 1798. From 1462 onwards it was under the protectorate of Lucerne, Schwyz, Unterwalden and Uri. In 1798 the abbot lost all his temporal powers, and his domains were annexed to the Obwalden division of Unterwalden, but in 1803 were transferred to the Nidwalden division. However, in 1816, in consequence of the desperate resistance made by the Nidwalden men to the new Federal Pact of 1815, they were punished by the fresh transfer of the valley to Obwalden, part of which it still forms. As the pastures forming the upper portion of the Engelberg valley have for ages belonged to Uri, the actual valley itself is politically isolated between Uri and Nidwalden. The monastery is still directly dependent on the pope. In 1900 the valley had 1973 inhabitants, practically all German-speaking and Romanists.
ENGELBERG, is an Alpine village and valley in central Switzerland, popular with visitors in the summer and somewhat in the winter. It is 14 km from Stansstad on Lake Lucerne by electric railway, past Stans. The village (1,022 m) is situated in a mountain basin, surrounded on all sides by tall mountains (the highest is Titlis at 3,238 m in the southeast), making it quite warm in summer. It connects to Wassen on the St Gotthard railway through the Surenen Pass (2,303 m) and to Meiringen in the Bernese Oberland via the Joch Pass (2,210 m), past the popular summer spot of Engstlen Alp (1,838 m). The village has developed around the large Benedictine monastery that gave the valley its name, based on the legend that angels determined its location, so the place was named “Mons Angelorum.” The monastery was established around 1120 and still exists today, although the current buildings are from the early 18th century. Its library was significantly damaged by the French in 1798. From 1462 onward, it was under the protection of Lucerne, Schwyz, Unterwalden, and Uri. In 1798, the abbot lost all his secular powers, and his lands were annexed to the Obwalden division of Unterwalden, but in 1803 they were transferred to the Nidwalden division. However, in 1816, due to the strong resistance from the Nidwalden men against the new Federal Pact of 1815, they faced punishment with another transfer of the valley back to Obwalden, where it still remains part. Since the upper pastures of the Engelberg valley have historically belonged to Uri, the actual valley itself is politically isolated between Uri and Nidwalden. The monastery remains directly under the authority of the pope. In 1900, the valley had 1,973 inhabitants, nearly all of whom were German-speaking and Roman Catholic.
ENGELBRECHTSDATTER, DORTHE (1634-1716), Norwegian poet, was born at Bergen on the 16th of January 1634; her father, Engelbrecht Jörgensen, was originally rector of the high school in that city, and afterwards dean of the cathedral. In 1652 she married Ambrosius Hardenbech, a theological writer famous for his flowery funeral sermons, who succeeded her father at the cathedral in 1659. They had five sons and four daughters. In 1678 her first volume appeared, Sjaelens aandelige Sangoffer (“The Soul’s Spiritual Offering of Song”) published at Copenhagen. This volume of hymns and devotional pieces, very modestly brought out, had an unparalleled success. The fortunate poetess was invited to Denmark, and on her arrival at Copenhagen was presented at Court. She was also introduced to Thomas Kingo, the father of Danish poetry, and the two greeted one another with improvised couplets, which have been preserved, and of which the poetess’s reply is incomparably the neater. In 1683 her husband died, and before 1698 she had buried all her nine children. In the midst of her troubles appeared her second work, the Taareoffer (“Sacrifice of Tears”), which is a continuous religious poem in four books. This was combined with the Sangoffer, and no fewer than three editions of the united works were published before her death, and many after it. In 1698 she brought out a third volume of sacred verse, Et kristeligt Valet fra Verden (“A Christian Farewell to the World”), a very tame production. She died on the 19th of February 1716. The first verses of Dorthe Engelbrechtsdatter are the best; her Sangoffer was dedicated to Jesus, the Taareoffer to Queen Charlotte Amalia; this is significant of her changed position in the eyes of the world.
ENGELBRECHTSDATTER, DORTHE (1634-1716), Norwegian poet, was born in Bergen on January 16, 1634. Her father, Engelbrecht Jörgensen, was the rector of the high school in that city and later became the dean of the cathedral. In 1652, she married Ambrosius Hardenbech, a theological writer known for his sentimental funeral sermons, who took over her father's position at the cathedral in 1659. They had five sons and four daughters. In 1678, her first book, Sjaelens aandelige Sangoffer (“The Soul’s Spiritual Offering of Song”), was published in Copenhagen. This collection of hymns and devotional pieces, released quite modestly, achieved exceptional success. The fortunate poetess was invited to Denmark, and upon her arrival in Copenhagen, she was presented at Court. She was also introduced to Thomas Kingo, the father of Danish poetry, and they exchanged improvised couplets, which have been preserved, with the poetess’s response being notably sharper. In 1683, her husband passed away, and by 1698, she had buried all nine of her children. Amidst her struggles, her second work, Taareoffer (“Sacrifice of Tears”), a continuous religious poem in four books, was published. This was combined with the Sangoffer, resulting in three editions of the united works published before her death and many more afterward. In 1698, she released a third volume of sacred poetry, Et kristeligt Valet fra Verden (“A Christian Farewell to the World”), which was rather subdued. She died on February 19, 1716. Dorthe Engelbrechtsdatter’s earliest verses are her best; her Sangoffer was dedicated to Jesus, and the Taareoffer was dedicated to Queen Charlotte Amalia, reflecting her changed status in the eyes of the world.
ENGELHARDT, JOHANN GEORG VEIT (1791-1855), German theologian, was born at Neustadt-on-the-Aisch on the 12th of November 1791, and was educated at Erlangen, where he afterwards taught in the gymnasium (1817), and became professor of theology in the university (1821). His two great works were a Handbuch der Kirchengeschichte in 4 vols. (1833-1834), and a Dogmengeschichte in 2 vols. (1839). He died at Erlangen on the 13th of September 1855.
ENGELHARDT, JOHANN GEORG VEIT (1791-1855), a German theologian, was born in Neustadt-on-the-Aisch on November 12, 1791. He studied at Erlangen, where he later taught at the gymnasium (1817) and became a theology professor at the university (1821). His two major works were a Handbuch der Kirchengeschichte in 4 volumes (1833-1834) and a Dogmengeschichte in 2 volumes (1839). He passed away in Erlangen on September 13, 1855.
ENGHIEN, LOUIS ANTOINE HENRI DE BOURBON CONDÉ, Duc d’ (1772-1804), was the only son of Henri Louis Joseph, prince of Condé, and of Louise Marie Thérèse Mathilde, sister of the duke of Orleans (Philippe Égalité), and was born at Chantilly on the 2nd of August 1772. He was educated privately by the abbé Millot, and received a military training from the commodore de Virieux. He early showed the warlike spirit of the house of Condé, and began his military career in 1788. On the outbreak of the French Revolution he “emigrated” with very many of the nobles a few days after the fall of the Bastille, and remained in exile, seeking to raise forces for the invasion of France and the 406 restoration of the old monarchy. In 1792, on the outbreak of war, he held a command in the force of émigrés (styled the “French royal army”) which shared in the duke of Brunswick’s unsuccessful invasion of France. He continued to serve under his father and grandfather in what was known as the Condé army, and on several occasions distinguished himself by his bravery and ardour in the vanguard. On the dissolution of that force after the peace of Lunéville (February 1801) he married privately the princess Charlotte, niece of Cardinal de Rohan, and took up his residence at Ettenheim in Baden, near the Rhine. Early in the year 1804 Napoleon, then First Consul of France, heard news which seemed to connect the young duke with the Cadoudal-Pichegru conspiracy then being tracked by the French police. The news ran that the duke was in company with Dumouriez and made secret journeys into France. This was false; the acquaintance was Thuméry, a harmless old man, and the duke had no dealings with Cadoudal or Pichegru. Napoleon gave orders for the seizure of the duke. French mounted gendarmes crossed the Rhine secretly, surrounded his house and brought him to Strassburg (15th of March 1804), and thence to the castle of Vincennes, near Paris. There a commission of French colonels was hastily gathered to try him. Meanwhile Napoleon had found out the true facts of the case, and the ground of the accusation was hastily changed. The duke was now charged chiefly with bearing arms against France in the late war, and with intending to take part in the new coalition then proposed against France. The colonels hastily and most informally drew up the act of condemnation, being incited thereto by orders from Savary (q.v.), who had come charged with instructions. Savary intervened to prevent all chance of an interview between the condemned and the First Consul; and the duke was shot in the moat of the castle, near a grave which had already been prepared. With him ended the house of Condé. In 1816 the bones were exhumed and placed in the chapel of the castle. It is now known that Josephine and Mme de Rémusat had begged Napoleon for mercy towards the duke; but nothing would bend his will. The blame which the apologists of the emperor have thrown on Talleyrand or Savary is undeserved. On his way to St Helena and at Longwood he asserted that, in the same circumstances, he would do the same again; he inserted a similar declaration in his will.
ENGHIEN, LOUIS ANTOINE HENRI DE BOURBON CONDÉ, Duke (1772-1804), was the only son of Henri Louis Joseph, Prince of Condé, and Louise Marie Thérèse Mathilde, sister of the Duke of Orleans (Philippe Égalité), and was born at Chantilly on August 2, 1772. He was educated privately by Abbé Millot and received military training from Commodore de Virieux. He quickly displayed the warlike spirit of the House of Condé and began his military career in 1788. When the French Revolution broke out, he “emigrated” with many other nobles just days after the fall of the Bastille, and remained in exile while trying to gather forces for an invasion of France and the 406 restoration of the old monarchy. In 1792, with the onset of war, he commanded a force of émigrés (called the “French royal army”) that participated in the Duke of Brunswick’s unsuccessful invasion of France. He continued serving under his father and grandfather in what became known as the Condé army, and on several occasions distinguished himself with his bravery and enthusiasm in the vanguard. After the army was disbanded following the peace of Lunéville (February 1801), he privately married Princess Charlotte, niece of Cardinal de Rohan, and settled in Ettenheim in Baden, near the Rhine. Early in 1804, Napoleon, then First Consul of France, received news that seemed to link the young duke to the Cadoudal-Pichegru conspiracy being pursued by the French police. Reports suggested that the duke was associated with Dumouriez and made secret trips to France. This was false; the person involved was Thuméry, an innocent old man, and the duke had no connections with Cadoudal or Pichegru. Napoleon ordered the duke's arrest. French mounted gendarmes secretly crossed the Rhine, surrounded his home, and brought him to Strassburg (March 15, 1804), and then to the castle of Vincennes, near Paris. There, a commission of French colonels was hastily organized to try him. Meanwhile, Napoleon uncovered the true facts of the case, and the basis for the charges was quickly altered. The duke was now accused mainly of taking arms against France in the recent war and planning to join the new coalition being proposed against France. The colonels abruptly and informally drafted the condemnation, spurred on by orders from Savary (q.v.), who had come with instructions. Savary intervened to prevent any chance of an interview between the accused and the First Consul; the duke was shot in the castle moat, near a grave that had already been prepared. With him ended the House of Condé. In 1816, his remains were exhumed and placed in the castle chapel. It is now known that Josephine and Mme de Rémusat had pleaded with Napoleon for mercy towards the duke; however, nothing could change his mind. The blame that supporters of the emperor have placed on Talleyrand or Savary is unwarranted. On his way to St Helena and at Longwood, he affirmed that under the same circumstances, he would do it again; he included a similar statement in his will.
See H. Welschinger, Le Due d’Enghien 1772-1804 (Paris, 1888); A. Nougaret de Fayet, Recherches historiques sur le procès et la condamnation du duc d’Enghien, 2 vols. (Paris, 1844); Comte A. Boulay de la Meurthe, Les Dernières Années du due d’Enghien 1801-1804 (Paris, 1886). For documents see La Catastrophe du duc d’Enghien in the edition of Mémoires edited by M.F. Barrière, also the edition of the duke’s letters, &c., by Count Boulay de la Meurthe (tome i., Paris, 1904; tome ii., 1908).
See H. Welschinger, Le Due d’Enghien 1772-1804 (Paris, 1888); A. Nougaret de Fayet, Recherches historiques sur le procès et la condamnation du duc d’Enghien, 2 vols. (Paris, 1844); Comte A. Boulay de la Meurthe, Les Dernières Années du due d’Enghien 1801-1804 (Paris, 1886). For documents, see La Catastrophe du duc d’Enghien in the edition of Mémoires edited by M.F. Barrière, also the edition of the duke’s letters, etc., by Count Boulay de la Meurthe (tome i., Paris, 1904; tome ii., 1908).
ENGHIEN, a town in the province of Hainaut, Belgium, lying south of Grammont. Pop. (1904) 4541. It is the centre of considerable lace, linen and cotton industries. There is a fine park outside the town belonging to the duke of Arenberg, whose ancestor, Charles de Ligne, bought it from Henry IV. in 1607, but the château in which the duke of Arenberg of the 18th century entertained Voltaire no longer exists. Curiously enough the cottage, a stone building, built by the same duke for Jean Jacques Rousseau, still stands in the park, while the ducal residence was burnt down by the sans-culottes. A fine pavilion or kiosk, named de l’Étoile, has also survived. The great Condé was given, for a victory gained near this place, the right to use the style of Enghien among his subsidiary titles.
ENGHIEN, is a town in the province of Hainaut, Belgium, located south of Grammont. Pop. (1904) 4541. It is the center of a significant lace, linen, and cotton industry. There is a beautiful park outside the town that belongs to the Duke of Arenberg, whose ancestor, Charles de Ligne, purchased it from Henry IV. in 1607. However, the château where the 18th-century Duke of Arenberg hosted Voltaire no longer exists. Interestingly, the cottage, a stone building created by the same duke for Jean Jacques Rousseau, still stands in the park, while the ducal residence was burned down by the sans-culottes. A lovely pavilion or kiosk, named de l’Étoile, has also survived. The great Condé was granted the right to use the title of Enghien among his subsidiary titles for a victory he won near this location.
ENGINE (Lat. ingenium), a term which in the time of Chaucer had the meaning of “natural talent” or “ability,” corresponding to the Latin from which it is derived (cf. “A man hath sapiences thre, Memorie, engin, and intellect also,” Second Nun’s Tale, 339); in this sense it is now obsolete. It also denoted a mechanical tool or contrivance, and especially a weapon of war; this use may be compared with that of ingenium in classical Latin to mean a clever idea or device, and in later Latin, as in Tertullian, for a warlike instrument or machine. In the 19th century it came to have, when employed alone, a specific reference to the steam-engine (q.v.), but it is also used of other prime movers such as the air-engine, gas-engine and oil-engine (qq.v.).
ENGINE (Lat. ingenium), a term that during Chaucer's time meant “natural talent” or “ability,” which aligns with its Latin roots (cf. “A man hath sapiences thre, Memorie, engin, and intellect also,” Second Nun’s Tale, 339); in this sense, it is now outdated. It also referred to a mechanical tool or device, particularly a weapon of war; this usage can be compared to ingenium in classical Latin meaning a clever idea or device, and in later Latin, as seen in Tertullian, for a warlike instrument or machine. In the 19th century, it became specifically associated with the steam engine (q.v.), but it is also applied to other prime movers like the air engine, gas engine, and oil engine (qq.v.).
ENGINEERING, a term for the action of the verb “to engineer,” which in its early uses referred specially to the operations of those who constructed engines of war and executed works intended to serve military purposes. Such military engineers were long the only ones to whom the title was applied. But about the middle of the 18th century there began to arise a new class of engineers who concerned themselves with works which, though they might be in some cases, as in the making of roads, of the same character as those undertaken by military engineers, were neither exclusively military in purpose nor executed by soldiers, and those men by way of distinction came to be known as civil engineers. No better definition of their aims and functions can be given than that which is contained in the charter (dated 1828) of the Institution of Civil Engineers (London), where civil engineering is described as the “art of directing the great sources of power in nature for the use and convenience of man, as the means of production and of traffic in states, both for external and internal trade, as applied in the construction of roads, bridges, aqueducts, canals, river navigation and docks for internal intercourse and exchange, and in the construction of ports, harbours, moles, breakwaters and lighthouses, and in the art of navigation by artificial power for the purposes of commerce, and in the construction and adaptation of machinery, and in the drainage of cities and towns.” Wide as is this enumeration, the practice of a civil engineer in the earlier part of the 19th century might cover many or even most of the subjects it contains. But gradually specialization set in. Perhaps the first branch to be recognized as separate was mechanical engineering, which is concerned with steam-engines, machine tools, mill-work and moving machinery in general, and it was soon followed by mining engineering, which deals with the location and working of coal, ore and other minerals. Subsequently numerous other more or less strictly defined groups and subdivisions came into existence, such as naval architecture dealing with the design of ships, marine engineering with the engines for propelling steamers, sanitary engineering with water-supply and disposal of sewage and other refuse, gas engineering with the manufacture and distribution of illuminating gas, and chemical engineering with the design and erection of the plant required for the manufacture of such chemical products as alkali, acids and dyes, and for the working of a wide range of industrial processes. The last great new branch is electrical engineering, which touches on the older branches at so many points that it has been said that all engineers must be electricians.
ENGINEERING, is a term that refers to the action of the verb “to engineer.” In its early uses, it specifically meant the work of those who built engines of war and carried out projects for military purposes. For a long time, only military engineers held this title. However, around the mid-18th century, a new class of engineers emerged. These engineers focused on projects that, while similar to military engineering (like building roads), weren't solely military in purpose or carried out by soldiers. To distinguish them, they came to be known as civil engineers. There's no better definition of their aims and functions than what is outlined in the charter (dated 1828) of the Institution of Civil Engineers (London). It describes civil engineering as the “art of directing the vast power sources in nature for the use and convenience of humanity, as a means of production and trade in countries, both for external and internal commerce, applied in constructing roads, bridges, aqueducts, canals, river navigation, and docks for domestic exchange, and in creating ports, harbors, moles, breakwaters, and lighthouses, as well as in navigation using artificial power for trade and in building and adapting machinery, and in urban drainage.” While this list is comprehensive, the work of a civil engineer in the early 19th century may have encompassed many or most of these topics. Gradually, specialization began. The first recognized branch was mechanical engineering, which deals with steam engines, machine tools, and moving machinery in general, soon followed by mining engineering, which focuses on locating and working with coal, ore, and other minerals. Afterward, numerous other specific groups and subdivisions were established, such as naval architecture for ship design, marine engineering for marine engines, sanitary engineering for water supply and sewage disposal, gas engineering for producing and distributing illuminating gas, and chemical engineering for designing and building plants needed for producing chemicals like alkalis, acids, and dyes, as well as a wide range of industrial processes. The latest major branch to emerge is electrical engineering, which overlaps significantly with older fields, leading to the notion that all engineers must have a grasp of electrical principles.
ENGINEERS, MILITARY. From the earliest times engineers have been employed both in the field of war and on field defences. In modern times, however, the application of numerous scientific and engineering devices to warfare has resulted in the creation of many minor branches of military engineering, some of them almost rivalling in importance their primary duty of fortification and siegecraft, such as the field telegraph, the balloon service, nearly all demolitions, the building of pontoon and other bridges, and the construction and working of military roads, railways, piers, &c. All these branches requiring special knowledge, the modern tendency is to divide a corps of engineers in accordance with such requirements. The “field companies” and “fortress companies” of the R.E. represent the traditional tactical application of their arm to works of offence and defence in field and siege warfare. The balloon, telegraph, and other branches, also organized on a permanent footing, represent the modern application of scientific aids in warfare. (See Fortification and Siegecraft; Tactics; Infantry, &c.)
ENGINEERS, MILITARY. Since ancient times, engineers have played roles in both warfare and the construction of defenses. However, in recent times, the use of various scientific and engineering technologies in warfare has led to the emergence of several specialized areas within military engineering, some of which are almost as important as their main tasks of building fortifications and conducting sieges. These areas include the field telegraph, balloon service, demolitions, the construction of pontoon and other bridges, and the development and maintenance of military roads, railways, piers, etc. Each of these areas requires specialized knowledge, leading to the modern trend of organizing engineering corps based on these needs. The "field companies" and "fortress companies" of the R.E. represent the traditional tactical use of their skills for offensive and defensive operations in field and siege warfare. The balloon, telegraph, and other branches, which are also organized on a permanent basis, illustrate the contemporary application of scientific support in warfare. (See Fortification and Siegecraft; Tactics; Infantry, etc.)
History.—It is difficult to distinguish between military and civil engineers in the earlier ages of modern history, for all engineers acted as builders of castles and defensible strongholds, as well as manufacturers and directors of engines of war with which to attack or defend them. The annals of fortification show professors, artists, &c., as well as soldiers and architects, as designers and builders of innumerable systems of fortification. By the middle of the 13th century there was in England an organized body of skilled workmen employed under a “chief engineer.” At the siege of Calais in 1347 this corps consisted of masons, carpenters, smiths, tentmakers, miners, armourers, 407 gunners and artillerymen. At the siege of Harfleur in 1415 the chief engineer was designated Master of the King’s Works, Guns and Ordnance, and the corps under him numbered 500 men, including 21 foot-archers. Headquarters of engineers existed at the Tower of London before 1350, and a century later developed into the Office of Ordnance (afterwards the Board of Ordnance), whose duty was to administer all matters connected with fortifications, artillery and ordnance stores.
History.—It's hard to tell the difference between military and civil engineers in the early parts of modern history because all engineers were involved in building castles and strongholds, as well as creating and managing weapons used for attacking or defending them. The history of fortification includes professors, artists, etc., along with soldiers and architects, who all contributed to designing and building countless fortification systems. By the mid-13th century, England had an organized group of skilled workers employed under a "chief engineer." During the siege of Calais in 1347, this group included masons, carpenters, blacksmiths, tentmakers, miners, armorers, gunners, and artillerymen. At the siege of Harfleur in 1415, the chief engineer was called the Master of the King’s Works, Guns, and Ordnance, overseeing 500 men, including 21 foot archers. There were engineering headquarters at the Tower of London before 1350, which a century later evolved into the Office of Ordnance (later known as the Board of Ordnance), responsible for managing everything related to fortifications, artillery, and ordnance supplies.
Henry VIII. employed many engineers (of whom Sir Richard Lee is the best known) in constructing coast defences from Penzance to the Thames and thence to Berwick-on-Tweed, and in strengthening the fortresses of Calais and Guînes in France. He also added to the organization a body of pioneers under trench-masters and a master trenchmaster. Charles II. increased the peace establishment of engineers and formed a separate one for Ireland, with a chief engineer who was also surveyor-general of the King’s Works. In both countries only a small permanent establishment was maintained, a special ordnance train being enrolled in war-time for each expedition and disbanded on its termination. The commander of an ordnance train was frequently, but not necessarily, an engineer, but there was always a chief engineer of each train. At Blenheim (1704) Marlborough’s ordnance train was commanded by Holcroft Blood, a distinguished engineer. But after the rebellion of 1715 it was decided to separate the artillery from the engineers, and the royal warrant of 26th May 1716 established two companies of artillery as a separate regiment, and an engineer corps composed of 1 chief engineer, 3 directors, 6 engineers-in-ordinary, 6 engineers extraordinary, 6 sub-engineers and 6 practitioner engineers.
Henry VIII employed many engineers, with Sir Richard Lee being the most notable, to build coastal defenses from Penzance to the Thames and then to Berwick-on-Tweed, as well as to strengthen the fortresses of Calais and Guînes in France. He also established a group of pioneers led by trench-masters and a master trenchmaster. Charles II expanded the peacetime engineer establishment and created a separate one for Ireland, led by a chief engineer who was also the surveyor-general of the King’s Works. In both countries, only a small permanent establishment was kept, and a special ordnance train was set up during wartime for each mission and then disbanded afterward. The commander of an ordnance train was often, but not always, an engineer, but there was always a chief engineer for each train. At Blenheim (1704), Marlborough’s ordnance train was led by Holcroft Blood, a distinguished engineer. However, after the rebellion of 1715, it was decided to separate the artillery from the engineers, and the royal warrant of May 26, 1716, established two companies of artillery as a separate regiment, along with an engineer corps made up of 1 chief engineer, 3 directors, 6 engineers-in-ordinary, 6 engineers extraordinary, 6 sub-engineers, and 6 practitioner engineers.
Until the 14th of May 1757 officers of engineers frequently held, in addition to their military rank in the corps of engineers, commissions in foot regiments; but on and after that date all engineer officers were gazetted to army as well as engineer rank—the chief engineer as colonel of foot, directors as lieutenant-colonel, and so forth down to practitioners as ensigns. On the 18th of November 1782 engineer grades, except that of chief engineer, were abolished, and the establishment was fixed at 1 chief engineer and colonel, 6 colonels commandant, 6 lieutenant-colonels, 9 captains, 9 captain lieutenants (afterwards second captains), 22 first lieutenants, and 22 second lieutenants. Ten years later a small invalid corps was formed. In 1787 the designation “Royal” was conferred upon the engineers, and its precedence settled to be on the right of the army, with the royal artillery.
Until May 14, 1757, engineering officers often held, in addition to their military rank in the engineering corps, positions in infantry regiments; but starting from that date, all engineering officers were officially designated with both army and engineering ranks—the chief engineer as a colonel in the infantry, directors as lieutenant colonels, and so on down to practitioners as ensigns. On November 18, 1782, engineering ranks, except for the chief engineer, were eliminated, and the structure was established to include 1 chief engineer and colonel, 6 colonels commandant, 6 lieutenant colonels, 9 captains, 9 captain lieutenants (later called second captains), 22 first lieutenants, and 22 second lieutenants. Ten years later, a small invalid corps was created. In 1787, the title "Royal" was granted to the engineers, and its precedence was determined to be on the right side of the army, alongside the royal artillery.
In 1802 the title of chief engineer was changed to inspector-general of fortifications. From this time to the conclusion of the Crimean War various augmentations took place, consequent on the increasing and widely extending duties thrown upon the officers. These, in addition to ordinary military duties, comprised the construction and maintenance of fortifications, barrack and ordnance store buildings, and all engineering services connected with them. The cadastral survey of the United Kingdom (called the “Ordnance Survey”) had been entrusted to the engineers as far back as 1784, and absorbed many officers in its execution.
In 1802, the title of chief engineer was changed to inspector-general of fortifications. From that point until the end of the Crimean War, there were various expansions due to the increasing and wide-ranging responsibilities assigned to the officers. These responsibilities, in addition to regular military duties, included the construction and maintenance of fortifications, barracks, and ordnance store buildings, along with all engineering services related to them. The cadastral survey of the United Kingdom (known as the “Ordnance Survey”) had been assigned to the engineers as early as 1784, which involved many officers in its execution.
In 1772 the formation at Gibraltar of “The Company of Soldier Artificers,” officered by Royal Engineers, was authorized, and a second company was added soon afterwards. In 1787 by royal warrant “The Corps of Royal Military Artificers” was established at home, consisting of six companies, with which the Gibraltar companies were amalgamated. In 1806 this corps was doubled, and in 1811 increased to 32 companies. In 1813 its title was changed to “The Royal Sappers and Miners.” In 1856, at the close of the Crimean War, it was incorporated with “The Corps of Royal Engineers,” by whom it had always been officered. At that date the corps numbered about 340 officers and 4000 non-commissioned officers and men, in 1 troop and 32 companies.
In 1772, the establishment of “The Company of Soldier Artificers” at Gibraltar, led by Royal Engineers, was approved, and a second company was added shortly afterward. In 1787, by royal warrant, “The Corps of Royal Military Artificers” was created in the UK, consisting of six companies, which merged with the Gibraltar companies. In 1806, this corps was expanded to double its size, and by 1811, it grew to 32 companies. In 1813, its name was changed to “The Royal Sappers and Miners.” In 1856, after the Crimean War ended, it was merged with “The Corps of Royal Engineers,” which had always provided its officers. At that time, the corps had around 340 officers and 4,000 non-commissioned officers and men, organized into 1 troop and 32 companies.
In 1770 the East India Company reorganized the engineer corps of the three presidencies, composed of officers only. Native corps of sappers or pioneers were formed later, and officered principally by engineers. The officers of engineers were employed in peacetime on the public works of the country, their services when required being placed at the disposal of the military authorities. The Indian Engineers have not only distinguished themselves in the operations of war, but have left monuments of engineering skill in the irrigation works, railways, surveys, roads, bridges, public buildings and defences of the country. When Indian administration was transferred to the crown (1862) the Indian Engineers became “Royal,” so that there now exists but one corps, the Royal Engineers. This is composed of about 1000 officers and 7700 warrant and non-commissioned officers and men. Of the officers some 220 are attached to units, about 400 employed either at home or in the colonies on engineering duties in military commands, on the staff, or on special duty, and about 370 on the Indian establishment. The supreme technical control of the Royal Engineers is exercised from the War Office. See also United Kingdom; Army.
In 1770, the East India Company restructured the engineering corps across the three presidencies, which consisted solely of officers. Native units of sappers and pioneers were established later, mainly staffed by engineers. In peacetime, engineer officers worked on public infrastructure projects, and when needed, their services were made available to the military authorities. Indian Engineers have not only made a name for themselves in wartime operations but have also created impressive engineering achievements in irrigation, railways, surveys, roads, bridges, public buildings, and the country's defenses. When Indian administration was handed over to the crown in 1862, the Indian Engineers were designated as "Royal," leading to the formation of a single corps: the Royal Engineers. This corps includes about 1,000 officers and 7,700 warrant officers and non-commissioned officers and servicemen. Of these officers, around 220 are assigned to units, about 400 are engaged in engineering roles either domestically or in the colonies within military commands, on staff or special duties, and approximately 370 are part of the Indian establishment. The highest technical oversight of the Royal Engineers is managed from the War Office. See also United Kingdom; Army.
The history of the French engineers shows a somewhat similar line of development. Originally selected officers of infantry were given brevets as engineers, and these men performed military and also civil duties for the king’s service by the aid of companies of workmen enlisted and discharged from time to time. Vauban (q.v.) was the founder of the famous corps de Génie (1690). Its members were selected officers and civilians, employed in all branches of military and naval services, and it soon achieved its European reputation as the first school of fortification and siegecraft. It received a special uniform in 1732. About 1755 it was for a time merged in the artillery. In 1766 the title of Génie was conferred upon the officers, and the same name (troupes de Génie) was given to the previously existing companies of sappers and miners in 1801.
The history of French engineers shows a somewhat similar line of development. Originally, selected infantry officers were given credentials as engineers, and these individuals performed military as well as civil duties for the king’s service with the help of companies of workers who were hired and let go as needed. Vauban (q.v.) founded the famous corps de Génie in 1690. Its members included selected officers and civilians, working in all areas of military and naval services, and it quickly gained a European reputation as the leading school for fortification and siegecraft. A special uniform was introduced in 1732. Around 1755, it was temporarily merged with the artillery. In 1766, the title of Génie was given to the officers, and the same name (troupes de Génie) was assigned to the existing companies of sappers and miners in 1801.
In the United States the separate Corps of Engineers (since 1794 there had been a Corps of Artillerists and Engineers) was organized in 1802, starting with a small body stationed at West Point, which in 1838 and 1846 was gradually increased, and in 1861 given three additional companies. In 1866 they were formed into a battalion and stationed at Willets Point, N.Y. In 1901 they were reorganized in three battalions, with a total strength of 1282. The U.S. Engineer School, formerly at Willets Point, was transferred in 1901 to Washington. Until 1866 the military academy at West Point was under the supervision of the Corps of Engineers, but from that time its direction was thrown open; but the highest branch at West Point is still regarded as that of the engineers. The Corps of Engineers has done a great deal of highly important work in the United States, notably in building forts, and improving rivers and harbours for navigation.
In the United States, the separate Corps of Engineers was established in 1802 (there had been a Corps of Artillerists and Engineers since 1794), starting with a small group based at West Point. This group was gradually expanded in 1838 and 1846, and in 1861, three additional companies were added. By 1866, they were organized into a battalion and stationed at Willets Point, N.Y. In 1901, they were reorganized into three battalions, with a total strength of 1,282. The U.S. Engineer School, which was originally at Willets Point, moved to Washington in 1901. Until 1866, the military academy at West Point was overseen by the Corps of Engineers, but after that, its direction was opened up. However, the top branch at West Point is still considered to be that of the engineers. The Corps of Engineers has accomplished a significant amount of important work in the United States, especially in building forts and improving rivers and harbors for navigation.
See Maj.-Gen. R.W. Porter, Hist, of the Corps of Royal Engineers (Chatham, 1889); C. Lecomte, Les Ingénieurs militaires de la France (Paris, 1903); H. Frobenius, Geschichte der K. preuss. Ingenieur- und Pioneer-Korps (Berlin, 1906).
See Maj.-Gen. R.W. Porter, Hist, of the Corps of Royal Engineers (Chatham, 1889); C. Lecomte, Les Ingénieurs militaires de la France (Paris, 1903); H. Frobenius, Geschichte der K. preuss. Ingenieur- und Pioneer-Korps (Berlin, 1906).
ENGIS, a cave on the banks of the Meuse near Liége, Belgium, where in 1832 Dr P.C. Schmerling found human remains in deposits belonging to the Quaternary period. Bones of the cave-bear, mammoth, rhinoceros and hyena were discovered in association with parts of a man’s skeleton and a human skull. This, known as “the Engis Skull,” gave rise to much discussion among anthropologists, since it has characteristics of both high and low development, the forehead, low and narrow, indicating slight intelligence, while the abnormally large brain cavity contradicts this conclusion. Of it Huxley wrote: “There is no mark of degradation about any part of its structure. It is a fair average human skull, which might have belonged to a philosopher, or might have contained the thoughtless brains of a savage.” Dr Schmerling concluded that the human remains were those of man who had been contemporary with the extinct mammals. As, however, fragments of coarse pottery were found in the cave which bore other evidence of having been used by neolithic man, by whom the cave-floor and its contents might have been disturbed and mixed, his arguments have not been regarded as conclusive. There is, however, no doubt as to the great age of the Engis Skull. Discoveries of a like nature were made by Dr Schmerling in the neighbourhood in the caves of Engihoul, Chokier and others.
ENGIS, is a cave along the Meuse River near Liège, Belgium, where in 1832, Dr. P.C. Schmerling discovered human remains in deposits from the Quaternary period. Bones of the cave bear, mammoth, rhinoceros, and hyena were found alongside parts of a man's skeleton and a human skull. This skull, known as “the Engis Skull,” sparked considerable debate among anthropologists, as it exhibits features of both advanced and primitive development; the low and narrow forehead suggests limited intelligence, yet the unusually large brain cavity contradicts that idea. Huxley remarked on it: “There is no mark of degradation about any part of its structure. It is a fair average human skull, which might have belonged to a philosopher, or might have contained the thoughtless brains of a savage.” Dr. Schmerling concluded that the human remains belonged to a person who lived at the same time as the extinct mammals. However, since fragments of rough pottery were found in the cave, indicating it had been used by Neolithic people, who may have disturbed and mixed the cave's contents, his conclusions are not considered definitive. Nonetheless, there is no doubt about the great age of the Engis Skull. Similar discoveries were made by Dr. Schmerling in nearby caves such as Engihoul, Chokier, and others.
See P.C. Schmerling, Recherches sur les ossements découverts dans les cavernes de la province Liège (1833); Huxley, Man’s Place in Nature, p. 156; Lord Avebury, Prehistoric Times, p. 317 (1900).
See P.C. Schmerling, Recherches sur les ossements découverts dans les cavernes de la province Liège (1833); Huxley, Man’s Place in Nature, p. 156; Lord Avebury, Prehistoric Times, p. 317 (1900).
Download ePUB
If you like this ebook, consider a donation!