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THE ENCYCLOPÆDIA BRITANNICA

A DICTIONARY OF ARTS, SCIENCES, LITERATURE AND GENERAL INFORMATION

ELEVENTH EDITION

 

VOLUME X SLICE III

Fenton, Edward to Finistere


 

Articles in This Slice

Articles in This Section

FENTON, EDWARD FEUDALISM
FENTON, ELIJAH FEUERBACH, ANSELM
FENTON, SIR GEOFFREY FEUERBACH, LUDWIG ANDREAS
FENTON, LAVINIA FEUERBACH, PAUL JOHANN ANSELM
FENTON FEUILLANTS, CLUB OF THE
FENUGREEK FEUILLET, OCTAVE
FENWICK, SIR JOHN FEUILLETON
FEOFFMENT FEUQUIÈRES, ISAAC MANASSÈS DE PAS
FERDINAND FÉVAL, PAUL HENRI CORENTIN
FERDINAND I. (Roman emperor) FEVER
FERDINAND II. (Roman emperor) FEYDEAU, ERNEST-AIMÉ
FERDINAND III. (Roman emperor) FEZ
FERDINAND I. (emperor of Austria) FEZZAN
FERDINAND I. (king of Naples) FIACRE, SAINT
FERDINAND II. (king of Naples) FIARS PRICES
FERDINAND IV. (king of Naples) FIBRES
FERDINAND I. (king of Portugal) FIBRIN
FERDINAND I. (king of Castile) FICHTE, IMMANUEL HERMANN VON
FERDINAND II. (king of Leon) FICHTE, JOHANN GOTTLIEB
FERDINAND III. (king of Castile) FICHTELGEBIRGE
FERDINAND IV. (king of Castile) FICINO, MARSILIO
FERDINAND I. (king of Aragon) FICKSBURG
FERDINAND V. (of Castile and Leon) FICTIONS
FERDINAND VI. (king of Spain) FIDDES, RICHARD
FERDINAND VII. (king of Spain) FIDDLE
FERDINAND II. (king of Sicily) FIDENAE
FERDINAND III. (duke of Tuscany) FIDUCIARY
FERDINAND, MAXIMILIAN KARL LEOPOLD MARIA FIEF
FERDINAND (duke of Brunswick) FIELD, CYRUS WEST
FERDINAND (archbishop of Cologne) FIELD, DAVID DUDLEY
FERENTINO FIELD, EUGENE
FERENTUM FIELD, FREDERICK
FERETORY FIELD, HENRY MARTYN
FERGHANA FIELD, JOHN
FERGUS FALLS FIELD, MARSHALL
FERGUSON, ADAM FIELD, NATHAN
FERGUSON, JAMES FIELD, STEPHEN JOHNSON
FERGUSON, ROBERT FIELD, WILLIAM VENTRIS FIELD
FERGUSON, SIR SAMUEL FIELD
FERGUSSON, JAMES FIELDFARE
FERGUSSON, ROBERT FIELDING, ANTHONY VANDYKE COPLEY
FERGUSSON, SIR WILLIAM FIELDING, HENRY
FERINGHI FIELDING, WILLIAM STEVENS
FERISHTA, MAHOMMED KASIM FIELD-MOUSE
FERMANAGH FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD
FERMAT, PIERRE DE FIELDS, JAMES THOMAS
FERMENTATION FIENNES, NATHANIEL
FERMO FIERI FACIAS
FERMOY FIESCHI, GIUSEPPE MARCO
FERN FIESCO, GIOVANNI LUIGI
FERNANDEZ, ALVARO FIESOLE
FERNANDEZ, DIEGO FIFE (county of Scotland)
FERNANDEZ, JOHN FIFE (flute)
FERNANDEZ, JUAN FIFTH MONARCHY MEN
FERNANDEZ, LUCAS FIG
FERNANDINA FIGARO
FERNANDO DE NORONHA FIGEAC
FERNANDO PO FIGUEIRA DA FOZ
FERNEL, JEAN FRANÇOIS FIGUERAS
FERNIE FIGULUS, PUBLIUS NIGIDIUS
FERNOW, KARL LUDWIG FIGURATE NUMBERS
FEROZEPUR FIJI
FEROZESHAH FILANDER
FERRAND, ANTOINE FRANÇOIS CLAUDE FILANGIERI, CARLO
FERRAR, NICHOLAS FILANGIERI, GAETANO
FERRAR, ROBERT FILARIASIS
FERRARA FILDES, SIR LUKE
FERRARA-FLORENCE FILE
FERRARI, GAUDENZIO FILE-FISH
FERRARI, GIUSEPPE FILELFO, FRANCESCO
FERRARI, PAOLO FILEY
FERREIRA, ANTONIO FILIBUSTER
FERREL'S LAW FILICAJA, VINCENZO DA
FERRERS FILIGREE
FERRERS, LAURENCE SHIRLEY FILLAN, SAINT
FERRET FILLET
FERRI, CIRO FILLMORE, MILLARD
FERRI, LUIGI FILMER, SIR RORERT
FERRIER, ARNAUD DU FILMY FERNS
FERRIER, JAMES FREDERICK FILON, PIERRE MARIE AUGUSTIN
FERRIER, PAUL FILOSA
FERRIER, SUSAN EDMONSTONE FILTER
FERROL FIMBRIA, GAIUS FLAVIUS
FERRUCCIO, FRANCESCO FIMBRIATE
FERRULE FINALE
FERRY, JULES FRANÇOIS CAMILLE FINANCE
FERRY FINCH, FINCH-HATTON
FERSEN, FREDRIK AXEL FINCH OF FORDWICH, JOHN FINCH
FERSEN, HANS AXEL FINCH
FESCA, FREDERIC ERNEST FINCHLEY
FESCENNIA FINCK, FRIEDRICH AUGUST VON
FESCENNINE VERSES FINCK, HEINRICH
FESCH, JOSEPH FINCK, HERMANN
FESSA FINDEN, WILLIAM
FESSENDEN, WILLIAM PITT FINDLATER, ANDREW
FESSLER, IGNAZ AURELIUS FINDLAY, SIR GEORGE
FESTA, CONSTANZO FINDLAY, JOHN RITCHIE
FESTINIOG FINDLAY
FESTOON FINE
FESTUS FINE ARTS
FESTUS, SEXTUS POMPEIUS FINGER
FÉTIS, FRANÇOIS JOSEPH FINGER-AND-TOE
FETISHISM FINGER-PRINTS
FETTERCAIRN FINGO
FETTERS AND HANDCUFFS FINIAL
FEU FINIGUERRA, MASO
FEUCHÈRES, SOPHIE FINISHING
FEUCHTERSLEBEN, ERNST FINISTÈRE
FEUD  

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FENTON, EDWARD (d. 1603), English navigator, son of Henry Fenton and brother of Sir Geoffrey Fenton (q.v.), was a native of Nottinghamshire. In 1577 he sailed, in command of the “Gabriel,” with Sir Martin Frobisher’s second expedition for the discovery of the north-west passage, and in the following year he took part as second in command in Frobisher’s third expedition, his ship being the “Judith.” He was then employed in Ireland for a time, but in 1582 he was put in charge of an expedition which was to sail round the Cape of Good Hope to the Moluccas and China, his instructions being to obtain any knowledge of the north-west passage that was possible without hindrance to his trade. On this unsuccessful voyage he got no farther than Brazil, and throughout he was engaged in quarrelling with his officers, and especially with his lieutenant, William Hawkins, the nephew of Sir John Hawkins, whom he had in irons when he arrived back in the Thames. In 1588 he had command of the “Mary Rose,” one of the ships of the fleet that was formed to oppose the Armada. He died fifteen years afterwards.

Fenton, Edward (d. 1603), English navigator, son of Henry Fenton and brother of Sir Geoffrey Fenton (q.v.), was from Nottinghamshire. In 1577, he sailed as captain of the “Gabriel” with Sir Martin Frobisher’s second expedition to find the northwest passage, and the following year, he served as second in command in Frobisher’s third expedition, commanding the “Judith.” He was then assigned to work in Ireland for a while, but in 1582, he led an expedition meant to sail around the Cape of Good Hope to the Moluccas and China, with instructions to gather any information about the northwest passage without disrupting his trade. This unsuccessful voyage did not get beyond Brazil, and throughout the journey, he had frequent conflicts with his officers, especially with his lieutenant, William Hawkins, the nephew of Sir John Hawkins, whom he had put in chains when he returned to the Thames. In 1588, he commanded the “Mary Rose,” one of the ships in the fleet formed to fight the Armada. He died fifteen years later.


FENTON, ELIJAH (1683-1730), English poet, was born at Shelton near Newcastle-under-Lyme, of an old Staffordshire family, on the 25th of May 1683. He graduated from Jesus College, Cambridge, in 1704, but was prevented by religious scruples from taking orders. He accompanied the earl of Orrery to Flanders as private secretary, and on returning to England became assistant in a school at Headley, Surrey, being soon afterwards appointed master of the free grammar school at Sevenoaks in Kent. In 1710 he resigned his appointment in the expectation of a place from Lord Bolingbroke, but was disappointed. He then became tutor to Lord Broghill, son of his patron Orrery. Fenton is remembered as the coadjutor of Alexander Pope in his translation of the Odyssey. He was responsible for the first, fourth, nineteenth and twentieth books, for which he received £300. He died at East Hampstead, Berkshire, on the 16th of July 1730. He was buried in the parish church, and his epitaph was written by Pope.

Fenton, Elijah (1683-1730), English poet, was born at Shelton near Newcastle-under-Lyme, from an old Staffordshire family, on May 25, 1683. He graduated from Jesus College, Cambridge, in 1704, but couldn't take holy orders due to his religious beliefs. He went to Flanders as a private secretary to the Earl of Orrery and, after returning to England, became an assistant at a school in Headley, Surrey. Soon after, he was appointed headmaster of the free grammar school in Sevenoaks, Kent. In 1710, he resigned, hoping to get a position from Lord Bolingbroke, but was let down. He then became a tutor to Lord Broghill, the son of his patron Orrery. Fenton is remembered as a collaborator with Alexander Pope on the translation of the Odyssey. He worked on the first, fourth, nineteenth, and twentieth books, for which he received £300. He died in East Hampstead, Berkshire, on July 16, 1730. He was buried in the parish church, and Pope wrote his epitaph.

Fenton also published Oxford and Cambridge Miscellany Poems (1707); Miscellaneous Poems (1717); Mariamne, a tragedy (1723); an edition (1725) of Milton’s poems, and one of Waller (1729) with elaborate notes. See W.W. Lloyd, Elijah Fenton, his Poetry and Friends (1894).

Fenton also published Oxford and Cambridge Miscellany Poems (1707); Miscellaneous Poems (1717); Mariamne, a tragedy (1723); an edition (1725) of Milton’s poems, and one of Waller (1729) with detailed notes. See W.W. Lloyd, Elijah Fenton, his Poetry and Friends (1894).

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FENTON, SIR GEOFFREY (c. 1539-1608), English writer and politician, was the son of Henry Fenton, of Nottinghamshire. He was brother of Edward Fenton the navigator. He is said to have visited Spain and Italy in his youth; possibly he went to Paris in Sir Thomas Hoby’s train in 1566, for he was living there in 1567, when he wrote Certaine tragicall discourses written oute of Frenche and Latin. This book is a free translation of François de Belleforest’s French rendering of Matteo Bandello’s Novelle. Till 1579 Fenton continued his literary labours, publishing Monophylo in 1572, Golden epistles gathered out of Guevarae’s workes as other authors ... 1575, and various religious tracts of strong protestant tendencies. In 1579 appeared the Historie of Guicciardini, translated out of French by G. F. and dedicated to Elizabeth. Through Lord Burghley he obtained, in 1580, the post of secretary to the new lord deputy of Ireland, Lord Grey de Wilton, and thus became a fellow worker with the poet, Edmund Spenser. From this time Fenton abandoned literature and became a faithful if somewhat unscrupulous servant of the crown. He was a bigoted protestant, longing to use the rack against “the diabolicall secte of Rome,” and even advocating the assassination of the queen’s most dangerous subjects. He won Elizabeth’s confidence, and the hatred of all his fellow-workers, by keeping her informed of every one’s doings in Ireland. In 1587 Sir John Perrot arrested Fenton, but the queen instantly ordered his release. Fenton was knighted in 1589, and in 1590-1591 he was in London as commissioner on the impeachment of Perrot. Full of dislike of the Scots and of James VI. (which he did not scruple to utter), on the latter’s accession Fenton’s post of secretary was in danger, but Burghley exerted himself in his favour, and in 1604 it was confirmed to him for life, though he had to share it with Sir Richard Coke. Fenton died in Dublin on the 19th of October 1608, and was buried in St Patrick’s cathedral. He married in June 1585, Alice, daughter of Dr Robert Weston, formerly lord chancellor of Ireland, and widow of Dr Hugh Brady, bishop of Meath, by whom he had two children, a son, Sir William Fenton, and a daughter, Catherine, who in 1603 married Richard Boyle, 1st earl of Cork.

Fenton, Sir Geoffrey (c. 1539-1608), English writer and politician, was the son of Henry Fenton from Nottinghamshire. He was the brother of Edward Fenton, the navigator. He is believed to have traveled to Spain and Italy in his youth; he probably went to Paris with Sir Thomas Hoby in 1566, as he was living there in 1567 when he wrote Certaine tragicall discourses written oute of Frenche and Latin. This book is a free translation of François de Belleforest’s French version of Matteo Bandello’s Novelle. Until 1579, Fenton continued his literary work, publishing Monophylo in 1572, Golden epistles gathered out of Guevarae’s workes as other authors in 1575, and various religious pamphlets with strong Protestant views. In 1579, he published Historie of Guicciardini, translated out of French by G. F. and dedicated it to Elizabeth. Through Lord Burghley, he secured the position of secretary to the new lord deputy of Ireland, Lord Grey de Wilton, in 1580, becoming a colleague of the poet Edmund Spenser. After that, Fenton left literature and became a loyal, albeit somewhat unscrupulous, servant of the crown. He was a staunch Protestant who wanted to use torture against “the diabolical sect of Rome” and even supported the assassination of the queen's most dangerous opponents. He gained Elizabeth’s trust but was hated by his colleagues for keeping her updated on everyone’s activities in Ireland. In 1587, Sir John Perrot arrested Fenton, but the queen immediately ordered his release. Fenton was knighted in 1589, and from 1590 to 1591, he was in London as a commissioner for the impeachment of Perrot. Filled with disdain for the Scots and James VI. (which he openly expressed), Fenton’s position as secretary was at risk when the latter ascended the throne, but Burghley advocated for him, and in 1604, it was confirmed for life, although he had to share it with Sir Richard Coke. Fenton died in Dublin on October 19, 1608, and was buried in St. Patrick’s Cathedral. He married Alice, the daughter of Dr. Robert Weston, a former lord chancellor of Ireland and widow of Dr. Hugh Brady, bishop of Meath, in June 1585, and they had two children: a son, Sir William Fenton, and a daughter, Catherine, who married Richard Boyle, the 1st Earl of Cork, in 1603.

Bibliography.—Harl. Soc. publications, vol. iv., Visitation of Nottinghamshire, 1871; Roy. Hist. MSS. Comm. (particularly Hatfield collection); Calendar of State papers, Ireland (very full), domestic, Carew papers; Lismore papers, ed. A.B. Grosart (1886-1888); Certaine tragicall Discourses, ed. R.L. Douglas (2 vols., 1898), Tudor Translation series, vols. xix., xx. (introd.).

References.—Harl. Soc. publications, vol. iv., Visitation of Nottinghamshire, 1871; Roy. Hist. MSS. Comm. (especially Hatfield collection); Calendar of State papers, Ireland (very comprehensive), domestic, Carew papers; Lismore papers, ed. A.B. Grosart (1886-1888); Certain Tragic Discourses, ed. R.L. Douglas (2 vols., 1898), Tudor Translation series, vols. xix., xx. (introduction).


FENTON, LAVINIA (1708-1760), English actress, was probably the daughter of a naval lieutenant named Beswick, but she bore the name of her mother’s husband. Her first appearance was as Monimia in Otway’s Orphans, in 1726 at the Haymarket. She then joined the company of players at the theatre in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, where her success and beauty made her the toast of the beaux. It was in Gay’s Beggar’s Opera, as Polly Peachum, that Miss Fenton made her greatest success. Her pictures were in great demand, verses were written to her and books published about her, and she was the most talked-of person in London. Hogarth’s picture shows her in one of the scenes, with the duke of Bolton in a box. After appearing in several comedies, and then in numerous repetitions of the Beggar’s Opera, she ran away with her lover Charles Paulet, 3rd duke of Bolton, a man much older than herself, who, after the death of his wife in 1751, married her. Their three children all died young. The duchess survived her husband and died on the 24th of January 1760.

FENTON, LAVINIA (1708-1760), an English actress, was likely the daughter of a naval lieutenant named Beswick, but she took her mother’s husband’s name. She first appeared as Monimia in Otway’s Orphans, at the Haymarket in 1726. She then joined the acting company at the theater in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, where her talent and beauty made her a favorite among the fashionable crowd. Her biggest success came in Gay’s Beggar’s Opera, where she played Polly Peachum. Demand for her portraits soared, poems were written about her, and books were published concerning her, making her the most talked-about person in London. Hogarth’s painting portrays her in one of the scenes, with the Duke of Bolton watching from a box. After performing in various comedies and many re-stagings of Beggar’s Opera, she eloped with her lover Charles Paulet, the 3rd Duke of Bolton, who was significantly older than her and married her after his wife passed away in 1751. Their three children all died young. The duchess outlived her husband and died on January 24, 1760.


FENTON, a town of Staffordshire, England, on the North Staffordshire railway, adjoining the east side of Stoke-on-Trent, in which parliamentary and municipal borough it is included. Pop. (1891) 16,998; (1901) 22,742. The manufacture of earthenware common to the district (the Potteries) employs the bulk of the large industrial population.

FENTON, a town in Staffordshire, England, situated on the North Staffordshire railway, next to the eastern side of Stoke-on-Trent, which is part of the parliamentary and municipal borough. Population: (1891) 16,998; (1901) 22,742. The production of earthenware, typical for the area known as the Potteries, employs most of the large industrial workforce.


FENUGREEK, in botany, Trigonella Foenum-graecum (so called from the name given to it by the ancients, who used it as fodder for cattle), a member of a genus of leguminous herbs very similar in habit and in most of their characters to the species of the genus Medicago. The leaves are formed of three obovate leaflets, the middle one of which is stalked; the flowers are solitary, or in clusters of two or three, and have a campanulate, 5-cleft calyx; and the pods are many-seeded, cylindrical or flattened, and straight or only slightly curved. The genus is widely diffused over the south of Europe, West and Central Asia, and the north of Africa, and is represented by several species in Australia. Fenugreek is indigenous to south-eastern Europe and western Asia, and is cultivated in the Mediterranean region, parts of central Europe, and in Morocco, and largely in Egypt and in India. It bears a sickle-shaped pod, containing from 10 to 20 seeds, from which 6% of a fetid, fatty and bitter oil can be extracted by ether. In India the fresh plant is employed as an esculent. The seed is an ingredient in curry powders, and is used for flavouring cattle foods. It was formerly much esteemed as a medicine, and is still in repute in veterinary practice.

FENUGREEK, in botany, Trigonella Foenum-graecum (named by the ancients who used it as cattle feed), is a member of a genus of leguminous herbs that closely resembles the species in the genus Medicago. The leaves are made up of three obovate leaflets, with the middle one being stalked; the flowers are solitary or in clusters of two or three, having a bell-shaped calyx with five clefts; and the pods are many-seeded, cylindrical or flattened, and either straight or slightly curved. This genus is widely distributed across southern Europe, western and central Asia, and northern Africa, with several species also found in Australia. Fenugreek is native to southeastern Europe and western Asia and is grown in the Mediterranean region, parts of central Europe, Morocco, and extensively in Egypt and India. It produces a sickle-shaped pod that contains 10 to 20 seeds, from which 6% of a foul-smelling, fatty, and bitter oil can be extracted using ether. In India, the fresh plant is used as food. The seeds are an ingredient in curry powder and are used to flavor cattle feed. It was once highly valued as a medicine and is still recognized in veterinary practice.


FENWICK, SIR JOHN (c. 1645-1697), English conspirator, was the eldest son of Sir William Fenwick, or Fenwicke, a member of an old Northumberland family. He entered the army, becoming major-general in 1688, but before this date he had been returned in succession to his father as one of the members of parliament for Northumberland, which county he represented from 1677 to 1687. He was a strong partisan of King James II., and in 1685 was one of the principal supporters of the act of attainder against the duke of Monmouth; but he remained in England when William III. ascended the throne three years later. He began at once to plot against the new king, for which he underwent a short imprisonment in 1689. Renewing his plots on his release, he publicly insulted Queen Mary in 1691, and it is practically certain that he was implicated in the schemes for assassinating William which came to light in 1695 and 1696. After the seizure of his fellow-conspirators, Robert Charnock and others, he remained in hiding until the imprudent conduct of his friends in attempting to induce one of the witnesses against him to leave the country led to his arrest in June in 1696. To save himself he offered to reveal all he knew about the Jacobite conspiracies; but his confession was a farce, being confined to charges against some of the leading Whig noblemen, which were damaging, but not conclusive. By this time his friends had succeeded in removing one of the two witnesses, and in these circumstances it was thought that the charge of treason must fail. The government, however, overcame this difficulty by introducing a bill of attainder, which after a long and acrimonious discussion passed through both Houses of Parliament. His wife persevered in her attempts to save his life, but her efforts were fruitless, and Fenwick was beheaded in London on the 28th of January 1697, with the same formalities as were usually observed at the execution of a peer. By his wife, Mary (d. 1708), daughter of Charles Howard, 1st earl of Carlisle, he had three sons and one daughter. Macaulay says that “of all the Jacobites, the most desperate characters not excepted, he (Fenwick) was the only one for whom William felt an intense personal aversion”; and it is interesting to note that Fenwick’s hatred of the king is said to date from the time when he was serving in Holland, and was reprimanded by William, then prince of Orange.

FENWICK, SIR JOHN (c. 1645-1697), English conspirator, was the eldest son of Sir William Fenwick, or Fenwicke, from an old Northumberland family. He joined the army, rising to major-general in 1688, but before that, he had been elected as one of the Members of Parliament for Northumberland, a position he held from 1677 to 1687. He was a strong supporter of King James II., and in 1685, he was one of the key backers of the act of attainder against the duke of Monmouth; however, he stayed in England when William III. took the throne three years later. He immediately began plotting against the new king, for which he was briefly imprisoned in 1689. After his release, he continued his schemes and publicly insulted Queen Mary in 1691. It is highly likely that he was involved in plots to assassinate William that were uncovered in 1695 and 1696. Following the capture of his fellow plotters, Robert Charnock and others, he went into hiding until the reckless actions of his associates, trying to persuade a key witness against him to flee the country, led to his arrest in June 1696. To save himself, he offered to disclose everything he knew about Jacobite conspiracies; however, his confession was merely a joke, limited to accusations against some leading Whig noblemen—damaging but not decisive. By that time, his friends had managed to remove one of the two witnesses, and under these conditions, it was believed the treason charges would fail. Nevertheless, the government overcame this issue by introducing a bill of attainder, which, after extensive and heated debate, passed through both Houses of Parliament. His wife remained steadfast in her efforts to save him, but her attempts were in vain, and Fenwick was beheaded in London on January 28, 1697, following the usual formalities for the execution of a peer. He and his wife, Mary (d. 1708), the daughter of Charles Howard, 1st Earl of Carlisle, had three sons and one daughter. Macaulay said that “of all the Jacobites, even the most desperate, he (Fenwick) was the only one for whom William felt a deep personal dislike”; it’s also notable that Fenwick’s animosity toward the king apparently began when he was serving in Holland and received a reprimand from William, then Prince of Orange.


FEOFFMENT, in English law, during the feudal period, the usual method of granting or conveying a freehold or fee. For the derivation of the word see Fief and Fee. The essential elements were livery of seisin (delivery of possession), which consisted in formally giving to the feoffee on the land a clod or turf, or a growing twig, as a symbol of the transfer of the land, and words by the feoffor declaratory of his intent to deliver possession to the feoffee with a “limitation” of the estate intended to be transferred. This was called livery in deed. Livery in law was made not on but in sight of this land, the feoffor saying to the feoffee, “I give you that land; enter and take possession.” Livery in law, in order to pass the estate, had to be perfected by entry by the feoffee during the joint lives of himself and the feoffor. It was usual to evidence the feoffment by writing in a charter or deed of feoffment; but writing was not essential until the Statute of Frauds; now, by the Real Property Act 1845, a conveyance of real property is void unless evidenced by deed, and 261 thus feoffments have been rendered unnecessary and superfluous. All corporeal hereditaments were by that act declared to be in grant as well as livery, i.e. they could be granted by deed without livery. A feoffment might be a tortious conveyance, i.e. if a person attempted to give to the feoffee a greater estate than he himself had in the land, he forfeited the estate of which he was seised. (See Conveyancing; Real Property.)

FEOFFMENT, in English law, during the feudal period, was the standard way to grant or transfer a freehold or fee. For the origin of the word see Fief and Fee. The key elements were livery of seisin (delivery of possession), which involved formally giving the feoffee a clod of earth, a piece of turf, or a growing twig on the land as a symbol of the land's transfer, along with words from the feoffor that declared their intent to deliver possession to the feoffee with a “limitation” of the estate they intended to transfer. This was known as livery in deed. Livery in law was stated not on but in sight of the land, with the feoffor saying to the feoffee, “I give you that land; enter and take possession.” Livery in law, to pass the estate, required the feoffee to enter during the lifetimes of both the feoffee and the feoffor. It was common to document the feoffment in a charter or deed of feoffment; however, writing became essential only after the Statute of Frauds; and now, according to the Real Property Act 1845, a conveyance of real property is void unless it is evidenced by a deed, making feoffments unnecessary and redundant. All corporeal hereditaments were declared by that act to be in grant as well as livery, meaning they could be granted by deed without livery. A feoffment might be an invalid conveyance, i.e. if someone tried to give the feoffee a greater estate than they had in the land, they would lose the estate they possessed. (See Conveyancing; Real Property.)


FERDINAND (Span. Fernando or Hernando; Ital. Ferdinando or Ferrante; in O.H. Ger. Herinand, i.e. “brave in the host,” from O.H.G. Heri, “army,” A.S. here, Mod. Ger. Heer, and the Goth, nanþjan, “to dare”), a name borne at various times by many European sovereigns and princes, the more important of whom are noticed below in the following order: emperors, kings of Naples, Portugal, Spain (Castile, Leon and Aragon) and the two Sicilies; then the grand duke of Tuscany, the prince of Bulgaria, the duke of Brunswick and the elector of Cologne.

FERDINAND (Span. Fernando or Hernando; Ital. Ferdinando or Ferrante; in O.H. Ger. Herinand, which means “brave in the army,” from O.H.G. Heri, “army,” A.S. here, Mod. Ger. Heer, and the Goth, nanþjan, “to dare”), a name held by many European rulers and princes at different times, with the most significant ones listed below in this order: emperors, kings of Naples, Portugal, Spain (Castile, Leon, and Aragon), and the two Sicilies; followed by the grand duke of Tuscany, the prince of Bulgaria, the duke of Brunswick, and the elector of Cologne.


FERDINAND I. (1503-1564), Roman emperor, was born at Alcalá de Henares on the 10th of March 1503, his father being Philip the Handsome, son of the emperor Maximilian I., and his mother Joanna, daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, king and queen of Castile and Aragon. Philip died in 1506 and Ferdinand, educated in Spain, was regarded with especial favour by his maternal grandfather who wished to form a Spanish-Italian kingdom for his namesake. This plan came to nothing, and the same fate attended a suggestion made after the death of Maximilian in 1519 that Ferdinand, and not his elder brother Charles, afterwards the emperor Charles V., should succeed to the imperial throne. Charles, however, secured the Empire and the whole of the lands of Maximilian and Ferdinand, while the younger brother was perforce content with a subordinate position. Yet some provision must be made for Ferdinand. In April 1521 the emperor granted to him the archduchies and duchies of upper and lower Austria, Carinthia, Styria and Carniola, adding soon afterwards the county of Tirol and the hereditary possessions of the Habsburgs in south-western Germany. About the same time the archduke was appointed to govern the duchy of Württemberg, which had come into the possession of Charles V.; and in May 1521 he was married at Linz to Anna (d. 1547), a daughter of Ladislaus, king of Hungary and Bohemia, a union which had been arranged some years before by the emperor Maximilian. In 1521 also he was made president of the council of regency (Reichsregiment), appointed to govern Germany during the emperor’s absence, and the next five years were occupied with imperial business, in which he acted as his brother’s representative, and in the government of the Austrian lands.

FERDINAND I. (1503-1564), Roman emperor, was born in Alcalá de Henares on March 10, 1503. His father was Philip the Handsome, the son of Emperor Maximilian I, and his mother was Joanna, the daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, kings and queens of Castile and Aragon. Philip passed away in 1506, and Ferdinand, who was educated in Spain, was particularly favored by his maternal grandfather, who hoped to establish a Spanish-Italian kingdom for him. This plan ultimately failed, as did a proposal made after Maximilian’s death in 1519 suggesting that Ferdinand, not his older brother Charles, who later became Emperor Charles V, should take the imperial throne. However, Charles secured the Empire and all of Maximilian’s territories, while Ferdinand was left to occupy a lesser role. Nevertheless, something had to be arranged for Ferdinand. In April 1521, the emperor granted him the archduchies and duchies of Upper and Lower Austria, Carinthia, Styria, and Carniola, soon adding the County of Tirol and the hereditary Habsburg possessions in southwestern Germany. Around the same time, Ferdinand was appointed to govern the Duchy of Württemberg, which had come under Charles V’s control; and in May 1521, he married Anna (d. 1547), a daughter of Ladislaus, king of Hungary and Bohemia, a union that had been arranged years earlier by Emperor Maximilian. In 1521, he was also made president of the council of regency (Reichsregiment), tasked with governing Germany during the emperor’s absence, and the next five years were filled with imperial duties, where he acted as his brother’s representative and managed the Austrian territories.

In Austria and the neighbouring duchies Ferdinand sought at first to suppress the reformers and their teaching, and this was possibly one reason why he had some difficulty in quelling risings in the districts under his rule after the Peasants’ War broke out in 1524. But a new field was soon opened for his ambition. In August 1526 his childless brother-in-law, Louis II., king of Hungary and Bohemia, was killed at the battle of Mohacs, and the archduke at once claimed both kingdoms, both by treaty and by right of his wife. Taking advantage of the divisions among his opponents, he was chosen king of Bohemia in October 1526, and crowned at Prague in the following February, but in Hungary he was less successful. John Zapolya, supported by the national party and soon afterwards by the Turks, offered a sturdy resistance, and although Ferdinand was chosen king at Pressburg in December 1526, and after defeating Zapolya at Tokay was crowned at Stuhlweissenburg in November 1527, he was unable to take possession of the kingdom. The Bavarian Wittelsbachs, incensed at not securing the Bohemian throne, were secretly intriguing with his foes; the French, after assisting spasmodically, made a formal alliance with Turkey in 1535; and Zapolya was a very useful centre round which the enemies of the Habsburgs were not slow to gather. A truce made in 1533 was soon broken, and the war dragged on until 1538, when by the treaty of Grosswardein, Hungary was divided between the claimants. The kingly title was given to Zapolya, but Ferdinand was to follow him on the throne. Before this, in January 1531, he had been chosen king of the Romans, or German king, at Cologne, and his coronation took place a few days later at Aix-la-Chapelle. He had thoroughly earned this honour by his loyalty to his brother, whom he had represented at several diets. In religious matters the king was now inclined, probably owing to the Turkish danger, to steer a middle course between the contending parties, and in 1532 he agreed to the religious peace of Nuremberg, receiving in return from the Protestants some assistance for the war against the Turks. In 1534, however, his prestige suffered a severe rebuff. Philip, landgrave of Hesse, and his associates had succeeded in conquering Württemberg on behalf of its exiled duke, Ulrich (q.v.), and, otherwise engaged, neither Charles nor Ferdinand could send much help to their lieutenants. They were consequently obliged to consent to the treaty of Cadan, made in June 1534, by which the German king recognized Ulrich as duke of Württemberg, on condition that he held his duchy under Austrian suzerainty.

In Austria and the nearby duchies, Ferdinand initially tried to suppress the reformers and their teachings, which might have been one reason he faced challenges in controlling uprisings in the regions under his rule after the Peasants’ War started in 1524. However, a new opportunity soon emerged for his ambition. In August 1526, his childless brother-in-law, Louis II, the king of Hungary and Bohemia, was killed in the battle of Mohacs, and Ferdinand quickly laid claim to both kingdoms, both through treaty and by right of his wife. Taking advantage of the divisions among his opponents, he was elected king of Bohemia in October 1526 and crowned in Prague the following February, but he had less success in Hungary. John Zapolya, supported by the national party and later by the Turks, mounted strong resistance, and although Ferdinand was chosen king at Pressburg in December 1526 and, after defeating Zapolya at Tokay, crowned at Stuhlweissenburg in November 1527, he could not take control of the kingdom. The Bavarian Wittelsbachs, angered at not securing the Bohemian throne, were secretly plotting with his enemies; the French, after offering sporadic support, formed a formal alliance with Turkey in 1535; and Zapolya became a useful rallying point for those opposed to the Habsburgs. A truce established in 1533 was quickly broken, and the war dragged on until 1538, when the treaty of Grosswardein split Hungary between the claimants. The royal title was granted to Zapolya, but Ferdinand was to follow him on the throne. Before this, in January 1531, he was elected king of the Romans, or German king, in Cologne, with his coronation taking place a few days later in Aix-la-Chapelle. He had earned this honor through his loyalty to his brother, whom he represented at several diets. Regarding religious matters, the king, likely due to the Turkish threat, was inclined to pursue a middle path between the opposing factions, and in 1532 he agreed to the religious peace of Nuremberg, receiving some assistance from the Protestants for the war against the Turks in return. However, in 1534, his prestige suffered a significant blow. Philip, landgrave of Hesse, and his allies managed to conquer Württemberg for its exiled duke, Ulrich, and both Charles and Ferdinand, busy elsewhere, couldn't provide much assistance to their subordinates. As a result, they were forced to agree to the treaty of Cadan, made in June 1534, which recognized Ulrich as duke of Württemberg, on the condition that he held his duchy under Austrian suzerainty.

In Hungary the peace of 1538 was not permanent. When Zapolya died in July 1540 a powerful faction refused to admit the right of Ferdinand to succeed him, and put forward his young son John Sigismund as a candidate for the throne. The cause of John Sigismund was espoused by the Turks and by Ferdinand’s other enemies, and, unable to get any serious assistance from the imperial diet, the king repeatedly sought to make peace with the sultan, but his envoys were haughtily repulsed. In 1544, however, a short truce was made. This was followed by others, and in 1547 one was concluded for five years, but only on condition that Ferdinand paid tribute for the small part of Hungary which remained in his hands. The struggle was renewed in 1551 and was continued in the same desultory fashion until 1562, when a truce was made which lasted during the remainder of Ferdinand’s lifetime. During the war of the league of Schmalkalden in 1546 and 1547 the king had taken the field primarily to protect Bohemia, and after the conclusion of the war he put down a rising in this country with some rigour. He appears during these years to have governed his lands with vigour and success, but in imperial politics he was merely the representative and spokesman of the emperor. About 1546, however, he began to take up a more independent position. Although Charles had crushed the league of Schmalkalden he had refused to restore Württemberg to Ferdinand; and he gave further offence by seeking to secure the succession of his son Philip, afterwards king of Spain, to the imperial throne. Ferdinand naturally objected, but in 1551 his reluctant consent was obtained to the plan that, on the proposed abdication of Charles, Philip should be chosen king of the Romans, and should succeed Ferdinand himself as emperor. Subsequent events caused the scheme to be dropped, but it had a somewhat unfortunate sequel for Charles, as during the short war between the emperor and Maurice, elector of Saxony, in 1552 Ferdinand’s attitude was rather that of a spectator and mediator than of a partisan. There seems, however, to be no truth in the suggestion that he acted treacherously towards his brother, and was in alliance with his foes. On behalf of Charles he negotiated the treaty of Passau with Maurice in 1552, and in 1555 after the conduct of imperial business had virtually been made over to him, and harmony had been restored between the brothers, he was responsible for the religious peace of Augsburg. Early in 1558 Charles carried out his intention to abdicate the imperial throne, and on the 24th of March Ferdinand was crowned as his successor at Frankfort. Pope Paul IV. would not recognize the new emperor, but his successor Pius IV. did so in 1559 through the mediation of Philip of Spain. The emperor’s short reign was mainly spent in seeking to settle the religious differences of Germany, and in efforts to prosecute the Turkish war more vigorously. His hopes at one time centred round the council of Trent which resumed its sittings in 1562, but he was unable to induce the Protestants to be represented. Although he held firmly to the Roman Catholic Church he sought to obtain tangible concessions to her opponents; but he refused to conciliate the Protestants by abrogating the clause concerning ecclesiastical reservation in the peace of Augsburg, and all his efforts to bring about reunion were futile. He did indeed secure the privilege of communion in both kinds from Pius IV. for the 262 laity in Bohemia and in various parts of Germany, but the hearty support which he gave the Jesuits shows that he had no sympathy with Protestantism, and was only anxious to restore union in the Church. In November 1562 he obtained the election of his son Maximilian as king of the Romans, and having arranged a partition of his lands among his three surviving sons, died in Vienna on the 25th of July 1564. His family had consisted of six sons and nine daughters.

In Hungary, the peace established in 1538 was not lasting. When Zapolya died in July 1540, a powerful faction refused to accept Ferdinand's right to succeed him, instead promoting his young son, John Sigismund, as a candidate for the throne. The Turks and Ferdinand’s other enemies supported John Sigismund's cause, and despite not receiving any serious help from the imperial diet, the king consistently tried to negotiate peace with the sultan, but his envoys were arrogantly turned away. However, in 1544, a short truce was negotiated. This led to more truces, and by 1547, one was established for five years, but only under the condition that Ferdinand paid tribute for the small part of Hungary he still controlled. The conflict resumed in 1551 and continued in a similar haphazard manner until 1562, when a truce was established that lasted for the rest of Ferdinand’s life. During the League of Schmalkalden war in 1546 and 1547, the king took action primarily to defend Bohemia, and after the war, he dealt with a rebellion in the country quite rigorously. He seemed to govern his lands decisively and effectively during these years, but in imperial politics, he was merely the representative and spokesperson for the emperor. Around 1546, however, he began to adopt a more independent stance. Although Charles had defeated the League of Schmalkalden, he had refused to return Württemberg to Ferdinand and further angered him by trying to secure the succession of his son Philip, who later became King of Spain, to the imperial throne. Ferdinand naturally objected, but in 1551, his reluctant approval was obtained for the plan that, upon Charles's anticipated abdication, Philip would be elected King of the Romans and would succeed Ferdinand as emperor. Later events led to the abandonment of this plan, but it had an unfortunate outcome for Charles, as during the brief war between the emperor and Maurice, Elector of Saxony, in 1552, Ferdinand's role was more that of a spectator and mediator than a supporter. However, the claim that he acted traitorously toward his brother or allied with his enemies appears to be unfounded. On behalf of Charles, he negotiated the Treaty of Passau with Maurice in 1552, and in 1555, after the responsibility for imperial business was essentially transferred to him and harmony between the brothers had been restored, he was instrumental in securing the Religious Peace of Augsburg. In early 1558, Charles followed through on his plan to abdicate the imperial throne, and on March 24, Ferdinand was crowned as his successor in Frankfurt. Pope Paul IV did not acknowledge the new emperor, but his successor, Pius IV, did so in 1559 through the mediation of Philip of Spain. The emperor's brief reign was largely focused on resolving the religious conflicts in Germany and making more vigorous efforts in the Turkish war. At one point, his hopes were tied to the Council of Trent, which resumed its sessions in 1562, but he was unable to get the Protestants to participate. Although he firmly adhered to the Roman Catholic Church, he tried to secure tangible concessions for its opponents; however, he refused to appease the Protestants by removing the clause about ecclesiastical reservation in the Peace of Augsburg, and all his attempts to achieve unity were in vain. He did manage to obtain the privilege of communion in both kinds from Pius IV for the laity in Bohemia and various parts of Germany, but his strong support of the Jesuits indicated that he had no sympathy for Protestantism and was only eager to restore unity within the Church. In November 1562, he secured the election of his son Maximilian as King of the Romans, and after arranging for the division of his lands among his three surviving sons, he died in Vienna on July 25, 1564. His family consisted of six sons and nine daughters.

In spite of constant and harassing engagements Ferdinand was fairly successful both as king and emperor. He sought to consolidate his Austrian lands, reformed the monetary system in Germany, and reorganized the Aulic council (Reichshofrat). Less masterful but more popular than his brother, whose character overshadows his own, he was just and tolerant, a good Catholic and a conscientious ruler.

Despite constant and demanding challenges, Ferdinand was quite successful as both king and emperor. He aimed to strengthen his Austrian territories, revamped the currency system in Germany, and reorganized the Aulic council (Reichshofrat). While not as commanding as his brother, whose persona often outshines his, he was fair and open-minded, a good Catholic, and a responsible leader.

See the article on Charles V. and the bibliography appended thereto. Also, A. Ulloa, Vita del potentissimo e christianissimo imperatore Ferdinando primo (Venice, 1565); S. Schard, Epitome rerum in variis orbis partibus a confirmatione Ferdinandi I. (Basel, 1574); F.B. von Bucholtz, Geschichte der Regierung Ferdinands des Ersten (Vienna, 1831-1838); K. Oberleitner, Österreichs Finanzen und Kriegswesen unter Ferdinand I. (Vienna, 1859); A. Rezek, Geschichte der Regierung Ferdinands I. in Böhmen (Prague, 1878); E. Rosenthal, Die Behördenorganisation Kaiser Ferdinands I. (Vienna, 1887); and W. Bauer, Die Anfänge Ferdinands I. (Vienna, 1907).

See the article on Charles V. and the bibliography attached to it. Also, A. Ulloa, Life of the Most Powerful and Christian Emperor Ferdinand I (Venice, 1565); S. Schard, Epitome of Events in Various Parts of the World since the Confirmation of Ferdinand I (Basel, 1574); F.B. von Bucholtz, History of the Reign of Ferdinand I (Vienna, 1831-1838); K. Oberleitner, Austrian Finances and Military Affairs under Ferdinand I (Vienna, 1859); A. Rezek, History of the Reign of Ferdinand I in Bohemia (Prague, 1878); E. Rosenthal, The Administrative Organization of Emperor Ferdinand I (Vienna, 1887); and W. Bauer, The Beginnings of Ferdinand I (Vienna, 1907).


FERDINAND II. (1578-1637), Roman emperor, was the eldest son of Charles, archduke of Styria (d. 1590), and his wife Maria, daughter of Albert IV., duke of Bavaria and a grandson of the emperor Ferdinand I. Born at Gratz on the 9th of July 1578, he was trained by the Jesuits, finishing his education at the university of Ingolstadt, and became the pattern prince of the counter-reformation. In 1596 he undertook the government of Styria, Carinthia and Carniola, and after a visit to Italy began an organized attack on Protestantism which under his father’s rule had made great progress in these archduchies; and although hampered by the inroads of the Turks, he showed his indifference to the material welfare of his dominions by compelling many of his Protestant subjects to choose between exile and conversion, and by entirely suppressing Protestant worship. He was not, however, unmindful of the larger interest of his family, or of the Empire which the Habsburgs regarded as belonging to them by hereditary right. In 1606 he joined his kinsmen in recognizing his cousin Matthias as the head of the family in place of the lethargic Rudolph II.; but he shrank from any proceedings which might lead to the deposition of the emperor, whom he represented at the diet of Regensburg in 1608; and his conduct was somewhat ambiguous during the subsequent quarrel between Rudolph and Matthias.

FERDINAND II. (1578-1637), Roman emperor, was the oldest son of Charles, archduke of Styria (d. 1590), and his wife Maria, the daughter of Albert IV, duke of Bavaria, and a grandson of emperor Ferdinand I. He was born in Graz on July 9, 1578, and was educated by the Jesuits, finishing at the University of Ingolstadt. He became the ideal prince of the counter-reformation. In 1596, he took over the governance of Styria, Carinthia, and Carniola, and after a trip to Italy, he launched a coordinated attack on Protestantism, which had advanced significantly in these regions during his father's rule. Despite facing challenges from the Turks, he demonstrated little concern for the material wellbeing of his territories by forcing many of his Protestant subjects to choose between exile and conversion and by completely banning Protestant worship. However, he was aware of the broader interests of his family and the Empire, which the Habsburgs viewed as their hereditary right. In 1606, he joined his relatives in recognizing his cousin Matthias as the head of the family, replacing the inactive Rudolph II. Nevertheless, he avoided any actions that could lead to the emperor's deposition, representing him at the diet of Regensburg in 1608; his actions were somewhat unclear during the subsequent conflict between Rudolph and Matthias.

In the first decade of the 17th century the house of Habsburg seemed overtaken by senile decay, and the great inheritance of Charles V. and Ferdinand I. to be threatened with disintegration and collapse. The reigning emperor, Rudolph II., was inert and childless; his surviving brothers, the archduke Matthias (afterwards emperor), Maximilian (1558-1618) and Albert (1559-1621), all men of mature age, were also without direct heirs; the racial differences among its subjects were increased by their religious animosities; and it appeared probable that the numerous enemies of the Habsburgs had only to wait a few years and then to divide the spoil. In spite of the recent murder of Henry IV. of France, this issue seemed still more likely when Matthias succeeded Rudolph as emperor in 1612. The Habsburgs, however, were not indifferent to the danger, and about 1615 it was agreed that Ferdinand, who already had two sons by his marriage with his cousin Maria Anna (d. 1616), daughter of William V., duke of Bavaria, should be the next emperor, and should succeed Matthias in the elective kingdoms of Hungary and Bohemia. The obstacles which impeded the progress of the scheme were gradually overcome by the energy of the archduke Maximilian. The elder archdukes renounced their rights in the succession; the claims of Philip III. and the Spanish Habsburgs were bought off by a promise of Alsace; and the emperor consented to his supercession in Hungary and Bohemia. In 1617 Ferdinand, who was just concluding a war with Venice, was chosen king of Bohemia, and in 1618 king of Hungary; but his election as German king, or king of the Romans, delayed owing to the anxiety of Melchior Klesl (q.v.) to conciliate the protestant princes, had not been accomplished when Matthias died in March 1619. Before this event, however, an important movement had begun in Bohemia. Having been surprised into choosing a devoted Roman Catholic as their king, the Bohemian Protestants suddenly realized that their religious, and possibly their civil liberties, were seriously menaced, and deeds of aggression on the part of Ferdinand’s representatives showed that this was no idle fear. Gaining the upper hand they declared Ferdinand deposed, and elected the elector palatine of the Rhine, Frederick V., in his stead; and the struggle between the rivals was the beginning of the Thirty Years’ War. At the same time other difficulties confronted Ferdinand, who had not yet secured the imperial throne. Bethlen Gabor, prince of Transylvania, invaded Hungary, while the Austrians rose and joined the Bohemians; but having seen his foes retreat from Vienna, Ferdinand hurried to Frankfort, where he was chosen emperor on the 28th of August 1619.

In the first decade of the 17th century, the Habsburg family seemed to be falling apart due to old age, and the vast legacy of Charles V. and Ferdinand I. appeared to be at risk of breaking apart and collapsing. The reigning emperor, Rudolph II., was inactive and had no children; his surviving brothers, Archduke Matthias (who later became emperor), Maximilian (1558-1618), and Albert (1559-1621), were all older men without direct heirs either. The racial divisions among their subjects were heightened by religious conflicts, and it seemed likely that the many enemies of the Habsburgs only needed to wait a few years to carve up the spoils. Despite the recent assassination of Henry IV. of France, this outcome seemed even more probable when Matthias succeeded Rudolph as emperor in 1612. However, the Habsburgs were aware of the threat, and around 1615, it was decided that Ferdinand, who already had two sons with his cousin Maria Anna (d. 1616), daughter of William V, Duke of Bavaria, should be the next emperor and take over Matthias's role in the elective kingdoms of Hungary and Bohemia. The obstacles to this plan were gradually overcome by the efforts of Archduke Maximilian. The elder archdukes gave up their claims to the succession; the claims of Philip III. and the Spanish Habsburgs were settled with a promise of Alsace; and the emperor agreed to step aside in Hungary and Bohemia. In 1617, Ferdinand, who was wrapping up a war with Venice, was elected king of Bohemia, and in 1618, king of Hungary. However, his election as German king, or king of the Romans, was delayed due to Melchior Klesl's (q.v.) concern about appeasing the Protestant princes and wasn’t completed before Matthias died in March 1619. Before this event, though, an important movement had started in Bohemia. After being caught off guard by choosing a staunch Roman Catholic as their king, the Bohemian Protestants suddenly realized that their religious and possibly civil rights were severely threatened, and aggressive actions from Ferdinand’s representatives showed that this was not a baseless fear. Gaining the upper hand, they declared Ferdinand deposed and elected Frederick V., the elector palatine of the Rhine, in his place; this conflict between the rivals marked the beginning of the Thirty Years' War. At the same time, Ferdinand faced other challenges as he had not yet secured the imperial throne. Bethlen Gabor, the prince of Transylvania, invaded Hungary, while the Austrians rebelled and joined the Bohemians; however, after seeing his enemies retreat from Vienna, Ferdinand rushed to Frankfurt, where he was elected emperor on August 28, 1619.

To deal with the elector palatine and his allies the new emperor allied himself with Maximilian I., duke of Bavaria, and the Catholic League, who drove Frederick from Bohemia in 1620, while Ferdinand’s Spanish allies devastated the Palatinate. Peace having been made with Bethlen Gabor in December 1621, the first period of the war ended in a satisfactory fashion for the emperor, and he could turn his attention to completing the work of crushing the Protestants, which had already begun in his archduchies and in Bohemia. In 1623 the Protestant clergy were expelled from Bohemia; in 1624 all worship save that of the Roman Catholic church was forbidden; and in 1627 an order of banishment against all Protestants was issued. A new constitution made the kingdom hereditary in the house of Habsburg, gave larger powers to the sovereign, and aimed at destroying the nationality of the Bohemians. Similar measures in Austria led to a fresh rising which was put down by the aid of the Bavarians in 1627, and Ferdinand could fairly claim that in his hereditary lands at least he had rendered Protestantism innocuous.

To handle the elector palatine and his allies, the new emperor formed an alliance with Maximilian I, the duke of Bavaria, and the Catholic League, who expelled Frederick from Bohemia in 1620, while Ferdinand's Spanish allies ravaged the Palatinate. After making peace with Bethlen Gabor in December 1621, the first phase of the war ended positively for the emperor, allowing him to focus on completing his goal of defeating the Protestants, a process that had already started in his archduchies and in Bohemia. In 1623, Protestant clergy were removed from Bohemia; in 1624, all forms of worship except that of the Roman Catholic Church were banned; and in 1627, an order was issued to exile all Protestants. A new constitution made the kingdom hereditary in the Habsburg family, increased the powers of the sovereign, and aimed to eliminate the distinct identity of the Bohemians. Similar actions in Austria led to another revolt, which was suppressed with Bavarian assistance in 1627, and Ferdinand could confidently assert that in his hereditary lands, at least, he had rendered Protestantism ineffective.

The renewal of the Thirty Years’ War in 1625 was caused mainly by the emperor’s vigorous championship of the cause of the counter-reformation in northern and north-eastern Germany. Again the imperial forces were victorious, chiefly owing to the genius of Wallenstein, who raised and led an army in this service, although the great scheme of securing the southern coast of the Baltic for the Habsburgs was foiled partly by the resistance of Stralsund. In March 1629 Ferdinand and his advisers felt themselves strong enough to take the important step towards which their policy in the Empire had been steadily tending. Issuing the famous edict of restitution, the emperor ordered that all lands which had been secularized since 1552, the date of the peace of Passau, should be restored to the church, and prompt measures were taken to enforce this decree. Many and powerful interests were vitally affected by this proceeding, and the result was the outbreak of the third period of the war, which was less favourable to the imperial arms than the preceding ones. This comparative failure was due, in the initial stages of the campaign, to Ferdinand’s weakness in assenting in 1630 to the demand of Maximilian of Bavaria that Wallenstein should be deprived of his command, and also to the genius of Gustavus Adolphus; and in its later stages to his insistence on the second removal of Wallenstein, and to his complicity in the assassination of the general. This deed was followed by the peace of Prague, concluded in 1635, primarily with John George I., elector of Saxony, but soon assented to by other princes; and this treaty, which made extensive concessions to the Protestants, marks the definite failure of Ferdinand to crush Protestantism in the Empire, as he had already done in Austria and Bohemia. It is noteworthy, however, that the emperor refused to allow the inhabitants of his hereditary dominions to share in the benefits of the peace. During these years Ferdinand had also been menaced by the secret or open hostility of France. A dispute over the duchies of Mantua and Monferrato was 263 ended by the treaty of Cherasco in 1631, but the influence of France was employed at the imperial diets and elsewhere in thwarting the plans of Ferdinand and in weakening the power of the Habsburgs. The last important act of the emperor was to secure the election of his son Ferdinand as king of the Romans. An attempt in 1630 to attain this end had failed, but in December 1636 the princes, meeting at Regensburg, bestowed the coveted dignity upon the younger Ferdinand. A few weeks afterwards, on the 15th of February 1637, the emperor died at Vienna, leaving, in addition to the king of the Romans, a son Leopold William (1614-1662), bishop of Passau and Strassburg. Ferdinand’s reign was so occupied with the Thirty Years’ War and the struggle with the Protestants that he had little time or inclination for other business. It is interesting to note, however, that this orthodox and Catholic emperor was constantly at variance with Pope Urban VIII. The quarrel was due principally, but not entirely, to events in Italy, where the pope sided with France in the dispute over the succession to Mantua and Monferrato. The succession question was settled, but the enmity remained; Urban showing his hostility by preventing the election of the younger Ferdinand as king of the Romans in 1630, and by turning a deaf ear to the emperor’s repeated requests for assistance to prosecute the war against the heretics. Ferdinand’s character has neither individuality nor interest, but he ruled the Empire during a critical and important period. Kind and generous to his dependents, his private life was simple and blameless, but he was to a great extent under the influence of his confessors.

The renewal of the Thirty Years’ War in 1625 was mainly triggered by the emperor’s strong support for the counter-reformation in northern and northeastern Germany. Once again, the imperial forces were victorious, largely due to the brilliance of Wallenstein, who raised and commanded an army in this effort, although the major plan to secure the southern coast of the Baltic for the Habsburgs was partly thwarted by Stralsund’s resistance. In March 1629, Ferdinand and his advisors felt confident enough to take an important step that their policy in the Empire had been aiming towards. By issuing the famous edict of restitution, the emperor ordered that all lands that had been secularized since 1552, the year of the peace of Passau, should be returned to the church, and immediate actions were taken to enforce this decree. Many powerful interests were significantly affected by this move, which led to the outbreak of the third phase of the war, which was less favorable to the imperial forces than the previous ones. This relative failure was due, in the early stages of the campaign, to Ferdinand’s weakness in agreeing in 1630 to Maximilian of Bavaria’s demand that Wallenstein be stripped of his command, and also to Gustavus Adolphus's strategic skills; in later stages, it was due to Ferdinand's insistence on Wallenstein’s second removal and his involvement in the general’s assassination. This act was followed by the peace of Prague, concluded in 1635, mainly with John George I, elector of Saxony, but soon agreed to by other princes; this treaty made significant concessions to the Protestants and marked Ferdinand’s definite failure to eliminate Protestantism in the Empire, as he had already done in Austria and Bohemia. Notably, the emperor refused to let the residents of his hereditary lands benefit from the peace. During these years, Ferdinand was also threatened by the secret or open hostility of France. A dispute over the duchies of Mantua and Monferrato was resolved by the treaty of Cherasco in 1631, but France’s influence was used at the imperial diets and elsewhere to undermine Ferdinand’s plans and weaken the Habsburgs' power. The emperor’s last significant action was securing the election of his son, Ferdinand, as king of the Romans. An attempt to achieve this in 1630 had failed, but in December 1636, the princes meeting at Regensburg granted the desired title to the younger Ferdinand. A few weeks later, on February 15, 1637, the emperor died in Vienna, leaving behind not only the king of the Romans but also a son, Leopold William (1614-1662), bishop of Passau and Strassburg. Ferdinand’s reign was so consumed with the Thirty Years’ War and the conflict with the Protestants that he had little time or inclination for other matters. However, it is interesting to note that this orthodox and Catholic emperor frequently clashed with Pope Urban VIII. The conflict was mainly, but not entirely, due to events in Italy, where the pope sided with France in the succession dispute over Mantua and Monferrato. The succession issue was resolved, but the enmity persisted; Urban expressed his hostility by blocking the election of the younger Ferdinand as king of the Romans in 1630 and ignoring the emperor’s repeated requests for help in waging war against the heretics. Ferdinand’s character lacks individuality and interest, but he governed the Empire during a critical and significant time. Kind and generous to his dependents, his private life was simple and faultless, though he was largely influenced by his confessors.

Bibliography.—The chief authorities for Ferdinand’s life and reign are F.C. Khevenhiller, Annales Ferdinandei (Regensburg, 1640-1646); F. van Hurter, Geschichte Kaiser Ferdinands II. (Schaffhausen, 1850-1855); Korrespondenz Kaiser Ferdinands II. mit P. Becanus und P.W. Lamormaini, edited by B. Dudik (Vienna, 1848 fol.); and F. Stieve, in the Allegmeine deutsche Biographie, Band vi. (Leipzig, 1877). See also the elaborate bibliography in the Cambridge Modern History, vol. iv. (Cambridge, 1906).

References.—The main sources for Ferdinand’s life and reign are F.C. Khevenhiller, Annales Ferdinandei (Regensburg, 1640-1646); F. van Hurter, Geschichte Kaiser Ferdinands II (Schaffhausen, 1850-1855); Korrespondenz Kaiser Ferdinands II. mit P. Becanus und P.W. Lamormaini, edited by B. Dudik (Vienna, 1848 fol.); and F. Stieve, in the Allgemeine deutsche Biographie, Band vi. (Leipzig, 1877). Also, check out the detailed bibliography in Cambridge Modern History, vol. iv. (Cambridge, 1906).


FERDINAND III. (1608-1657), Roman emperor, was the elder son of the emperor Ferdinand II., and was born at Gratz on the 13th of July 1608. Educated by the Jesuits, he was crowned king of Hungary in December 1625, and king of Bohemia two years later, and soon began to take part in imperial business. Wallenstein, however, refused to allow him to hold a command in the imperial army; and henceforward reckoned among his enemies, the young king was appointed the successor of the famous general when he was deposed in 1634; and as commander-in-chief of the imperial troops he was nominally responsible for the capture of Regensburg and Donauwörth, and the defeat of the Swedes at Nördlingen. Having been elected king of the Romans, or German king, at Regensburg in December 1636, Ferdinand became emperor on his father’s death in the following February, and showed himself anxious to put an end to the Thirty Years’ War. He persuaded one or two princes to assent to the terms of the treaty of Prague; but a general peace was delayed by his reluctance to grant religious liberty to the Protestants, and by his anxiety to act in unison with Spain. In 1640 he had refused to entertain the idea of a general amnesty suggested by the diet at Regensburg; but negotiations for peace were soon begun, and in 1648 the emperor assented to the treaty of Westphalia. This event belongs rather to the general history of Europe, but it is interesting to note that owing to Ferdinand’s insistence the Protestants in his hereditary dominions did not obtain religious liberty at this settlement. After 1648 the emperor was engaged in carrying out the terms of the treaty and ridding Germany of the foreign soldiery. In 1656 he sent an army into Italy to assist Spain in her struggle with France, and he had just concluded an alliance with Poland to check the aggressions of Charles X, of Sweden when he died on the 2nd of April 1657. Ferdinand was a scholarly and cultured man, an excellent linguist and a composer of music. Industrious and popular in public life, his private life was blameless; and although a strong Roman Catholic he was less fanatical than his father. His first wife was Maria Anna (d. 1646), daughter of Philip III. of Spain, by whom he had three sons: Ferdinand, who was chosen king of the Romans in 1653, and who died in the following year; Leopold, who succeeded his father on the imperial throne; and Charles Joseph (d. 1664), bishop of Passau and Breslau, and grand-master of the Teutonic order. The emperor’s second wife was his cousin Maria (d. 1649), daughter of the archduke Leopold; and his third wife was Eleanora of Mantua (d. 1686). His musical works, together with those of the emperors Leopold I. and Joseph I., have been published by G. Adler (Vienna, 1892-1893).

FERDINAND III. (1608-1657), Roman emperor, was the eldest son of Emperor Ferdinand II and was born in Graz on July 13, 1608. He was educated by the Jesuits and crowned King of Hungary in December 1625, and King of Bohemia two years later. He soon started getting involved in imperial affairs. However, Wallenstein didn’t let him take command of the imperial army; thus, becoming one of his enemies, Ferdinand was named the successor of the famous general when he was deposed in 1634. As commander-in-chief of the imperial army, he was officially responsible for the capture of Regensburg and Donauwörth, as well as the defeat of the Swedes at Nördlingen. Ferdinand was elected King of the Romans, or German king, at Regensburg in December 1636 and became emperor after his father died the following February. He was eager to end the Thirty Years’ War. He persuaded a couple of princes to agree to the terms of the Treaty of Prague, but a general peace was delayed due to his hesitation to grant religious freedom to the Protestants and his desire to work alongside Spain. In 1640, he rejected the idea of a general amnesty suggested by the diet at Regensburg, but peace negotiations soon began, and in 1648, the emperor agreed to the Treaty of Westphalia. While this event relates more to the general history of Europe, it’s important to note that because of Ferdinand’s demands, the Protestants in his hereditary territories did not gain religious freedom in this settlement. After 1648, the emperor focused on implementing the treaty’s terms and eliminating foreign soldiers from Germany. In 1656, he sent an army into Italy to help Spain in its conflict with France, and he had just formed an alliance with Poland to counter the aggressions of Charles X of Sweden when he died on April 2, 1657. Ferdinand was a scholarly and cultured man, an excellent linguist, and a music composer. He was industrious and well-liked in public life, with a spotless private life; although he was a devout Roman Catholic, he was less fanatical than his father. His first wife was Maria Anna (d. 1646), daughter of Philip III of Spain, with whom he had three sons: Ferdinand, who was named king of the Romans in 1653 and died the following year; Leopold, who succeeded his father as emperor; and Charles Joseph (d. 1664), bishop of Passau and Breslau, and grand-master of the Teutonic order. The emperor’s second wife was his cousin Maria (d. 1649), daughter of Archduke Leopold; and his third wife was Eleanora of Mantua (d. 1686). His musical works, along with those of Emperors Leopold I and Joseph I, have been published by G. Adler (Vienna, 1892-1893).

See M. Koch, Geschichte des deutschen Reiches unter der Regierung Ferdinands III. (Vienna, 1865-1866).

See M. Koch, History of the German Empire under the Reign of Ferdinand III. (Vienna, 1865-1866).


FERDINAND I. (1793-1875), emperor of Austria, eldest son of Francis I. and of Maria Theresa of Naples, was born at Vienna on the 19th of April 1793. In his boyhood he suffered from epileptic fits, and could therefore not receive a regular education. As his health improved with his growth and with travel, he was not set aside from the succession. In 1830 his father caused him to be crowned king of Hungary, a pure formality, which gave him no power, and was designed to avoid possible trouble in the future. In 1831 he was married to Anna, daughter of Victor Emmanuel I. of Sardinia. The marriage was barren. When Francis I. died on the 2nd of March 1835, Ferdinand was recognized as his successor. But his incapacity was so notorious that the conduct of affairs was entrusted to a council of state, consisting of Prince Metternich (q.v.) with other ministers, and two archdukes, Louis and Francis Charles. They composed the Staatsconferenz, the ill-constructed and informal regency which led the Austrian dominions to the revolutionary outbreaks of 1846-1849. (See Austria-Hungary.) The emperor, who was subject to fits of actual insanity, and in his lucid intervals was weak and confused in mind, was a political nullity. His personal amiability earned him the affectionate pity of his subjects, and he became the hero of popular stories which did not tend to maintain the dignity of the crown. It was commonly said that having taken refuge on a rainy day in a farmhouse he was so tempted by the smell of the dumplings which the farmer and his family were eating for dinner, that he insisted on having one. His doctor, who knew them to be indigestible, objected, and thereupon Ferdinand, in an imperial rage, made the answer:—“Kaiser bin i’, und Knüdel müss i’ haben” (I am emperor, and will have the dumpling)—which has become a Viennese proverb. His popular name of Der Gütige (the good sort of man) expressed as much derision as affection. Ferdinand had good taste for art and music. Some modification of the tight-handed rule of his father was made by the Staatsconferenz during his reign. In the presence of the revolutionary troubles, which began with agrarian riots in Galicia in 1846, and then spread over the whole empire, he was personally helpless. He was compelled to escape from the disorders of Vienna to Innsbruck on the 17th of May 1848. He came back on the invitation of the diet on the 12th of August, but soon had to escape once more from the mob of students and workmen who were in possession of the city. On the 2nd of December he abdicated at Olmütz in favour of his nephew, Francis Joseph. He lived under supervision by doctors and guardians at Prague till his death on the 29th of June 1855.

FERDINAND I. (1793-1875), emperor of Austria, was the eldest son of Francis I and Maria Theresa of Naples. He was born in Vienna on April 19, 1793. As a child, he suffered from epilepsy, which prevented him from receiving a regular education. However, as his health improved with age and travel, he remained in line for succession. In 1830, his father had him crowned king of Hungary, which was merely a formality that granted him no real power, but was intended to prevent potential issues in the future. In 1831, he married Anna, the daughter of Victor Emmanuel I of Sardinia, but their marriage did not produce any children. When Francis I died on March 2, 1835, Ferdinand was acknowledged as his successor. Yet, his incapacity was so widely known that the management of affairs was assigned to a council of state, made up of Prince Metternich (q.v.) along with other ministers and two archdukes, Louis and Francis Charles. They formed the Staatsconferenz, a poorly structured and informal regency that guided the Austrian territories through the revolutionary upheavals of 1846-1849. (See Austria-Hungary.) The emperor, who experienced actual fits of insanity and was often weak and confused during his clear moments, was politically ineffective. His kind nature earned him the affectionate pity of his subjects, and he became the subject of popular tales that didn't exactly uphold the crown's dignity. It was often said that on a rainy day, seeking refuge in a farmhouse, he was so enticed by the smell of dumplings the farmer’s family was having for dinner, that he insisted on trying one. His doctor, aware they were hard to digest, protested, to which Ferdinand, in an imperial fury, retorted:—“Kaiser bin i’, und Knüdel müss i’ haben” (I am emperor, and I will have the dumpling)—a saying that became a Viennese proverb. His nickname Der Gütige (the good sort of man) reflected both ridicule and affection. Ferdinand had a genuine appreciation for art and music. Some adjustments to his father's strict governance were made by the Staatsconferenz during his reign. Faced with revolutionary turmoil that began with agrarian riots in Galicia in 1846 and spread across the empire, he was personally powerless. He was forced to flee from the chaos in Vienna to Innsbruck on May 17, 1848. He returned at the diet's invitation on August 12 but soon had to escape again from a mob of students and workers who had taken over the city. On December 2, he abdicated in Olmütz in favor of his nephew, Francis Joseph. He lived under the care of doctors and guardians in Prague until his death on June 29, 1855.

See Krones von Marchland, Grundriss der österreichischen Geschichte (Vienna, 1882), which gives an ample bibliography; Count F. Hartig, Genesis der Revolution in Österreich (Leipzig, 1850),—an enlarged English translation will be found in the 4th volume of W. Coxe’s House of Austria (London, 1862).

See Krones von Marchland, Basic Outline of Austrian History (Vienna, 1882), which provides a comprehensive bibliography; Count F. Hartig, Origins of the Revolution in Austria (Leipzig, 1850),—an expanded English translation can be found in the 4th volume of W. Coxe’s House of Austria (London, 1862).


FERDINAND I. (1423-1494), also called Don Ferrante, king of Naples, the natural son of Alphonso V. of Aragon and I. of Sicily and Naples, was horn in 1423. In accordance with his father’s will, he succeeded him on the throne of Naples in 1458, but Pope Calixtus III. declared the line of Aragon extinct and the kingdom a fief of the church. But although he died before he could make good his claim (August 1458), and the new Pope Pius II. recognized Ferdinand, John of Anjou, profiting by the discontent of the Neapolitan barons, decided to try to regain the throne conquered by his ancestors, and invaded Naples. Ferdinand was severely defeated by the Angevins and the rebels at Sarno in July 1460, but with the help of Alessandro Sforza 264 and of the Albanian chief, Skanderbeg, who chivalrously came to the aid of the prince whose father had aided him, he triumphed over his enemies, and by 1464 had re-established his authority in the kingdom. In 1478 he allied himself with Pope Sixtus IV. against Lorenzo de’ Medici, but the latter journeyed alone to Naples when he succeeded in negotiating an honourable peace with Ferdinand. In 1480 the Turks captured Otranto, and massacred the majority of the inhabitants, but in the following year it was retaken by his son Alphonso, duke of Calabria. His oppressive government led in 1485 to an attempt at revolt on the part of the nobles, led by Francesca Coppola and Antonello Sanseverino and supported by Pope Innocent VIII.; the rising having been crushed, many of the nobles, notwithstanding Ferdinand’s promise of a general amnesty, were afterwards treacherously murdered at his express command. In 1493 Charles VIII. of France was preparing to invade Italy for the conquest of Naples, and Ferdinand realized that this was a greater danger than any he had yet faced. With almost prophetic instinct he warned the Italian princes of the calamities in store for them, but his negotiations with Pope Alexander VI. and Ludovico il Moro, lord of Milan, having failed, he died in January 1494, worn out with anxiety. Ferdinand was gifted with great courage and real political ability, but his method of government was vicious and disastrous. His financial administration was based on oppressive and dishonest monopolies, and he was mercilessly severe and utterly treacherous towards his enemies.

FERDINAND I. (1423-1494), also known as Don Ferrante, king of Naples, was the illegitimate son of Alphonso V of Aragon and I of Sicily and Naples, born in 1423. Following his father's wishes, he took the throne of Naples in 1458, but Pope Calixtus III declared the Aragon line extinct and the kingdom a fief of the church. Although Ferdinand died before he could assert his claim (August 1458), the new Pope Pius II acknowledged him. Meanwhile, John of Anjou took advantage of the discontent among the Neapolitan nobility and attempted to reclaim the throne his ancestors had held, invading Naples. Ferdinand faced a significant defeat by the Angevins and rebels at Sarno in July 1460, but with the support of Alessandro Sforza and the Albanian leader, Skanderbeg, who honorably came to aid the prince whose father had helped him, he overcame his adversaries and restored his authority in the kingdom by 1464. In 1478, he formed an alliance with Pope Sixtus IV against Lorenzo de' Medici, but Lorenzo managed to travel to Naples alone and negotiated a respectable peace with Ferdinand. In 1480, the Turks captured Otranto and massacred most of its residents, but the following year, his son Alphonso, duke of Calabria, recaptured it. His oppressive rule led to a revolt attempt in 1485 by the nobles, led by Francesca Coppola and Antonello Sanseverino and backed by Pope Innocent VIII; the uprising was quashed, and many nobles were treacherously murdered on his direct orders despite Ferdinand's promise of a general amnesty. In 1493, Charles VIII of France prepared to invade Italy in pursuit of conquering Naples, and Ferdinand realized this posed a greater threat than any he had encountered before. With almost prophetic foresight, he cautioned the Italian princes about the impending disasters, but as his negotiations with Pope Alexander VI and Ludovico il Moro, lord of Milan, failed, he died in January 1494, exhausted from worry. Ferdinand was known for his bravery and genuine political skill, but his governing style was cruel and ultimately disastrous. His financial management relied on oppressive and dishonest monopolies, and he showed no mercy and utter traitorousness toward his enemies.

Authorities.Codice Aragonese, edited by F. Trinchera (Naples, 1866-1874); P. Giannone, Istoria Civile del Regno di Napoli; J. Alvini, De gestis regum Neapol. ab Aragonia (Naples, 1588); S. de Sismondi, Histoire des républiques italiennes, vols. v. and vi. (Brussels, 1838); P. Villari, Machiavelli, pp. 60-64 (Engl. transl., London, 1892); for the revolt of the nobles in 1485 see Camillo Porzio, La Congiura dei Baroni (first published Rome, 1565; many subsequent editions), written in the Royalist interest.

Officials.Codice Aragonese, edited by F. Trinchera (Naples, 1866-1874); P. Giannone, Istoria Civile del Regno di Napoli; J. Alvini, De gestis regum Neapol. ab Aragonia (Naples, 1588); S. de Sismondi, Histoire des républiques italiennes, vols. v. and vi. (Brussels, 1838); P. Villari, Machiavelli, pp. 60-64 (Engl. transl., London, 1892); for the revolt of the nobles in 1485 see Camillo Porzio, La Congiura dei Baroni (first published Rome, 1565; many subsequent editions), written in the Royalist interest.

(L. V.*)

FERDINAND II. (1469-1496), king of Naples, was the grandson of the preceding, and son of Alphonso II. Alphonso finding his tenure of the throne uncertain on account of the approaching invasion of Charles VIII. of France and the general dissatisfaction of his subjects, abdicated in his son’s favour in 1495, but notwithstanding this the treason of a party in Naples rendered it impossible to defend the city against the approach of Charles VIII. Ferdinand fled to Ischia; but when the French king left Naples with most of his army, in consequence of the formation of an Italian league against him, he returned, defeated the French garrisons, and the Neapolitans, irritated by the conduct of their conquerors during the occupation of the city, received him back with enthusiasm; with the aid of the great Spanish general Gonzalo de Cordova he was able completely to rid his state of its invaders shortly before his death, which occurred on the 7th of September 1496.

FERDINAND II. (1469-1496), king of Naples, was the grandson of the previous king and the son of Alphonso II. Alphonso, facing uncertainty on the throne due to the impending invasion by Charles VIII of France and widespread dissatisfaction among his subjects, abdicated in favor of his son in 1495. However, a faction in Naples betrayed him, making it impossible to defend the city against Charles VIII's advance. Ferdinand fled to Ischia, but when the French king withdrew from Naples with most of his army due to the formation of an Italian league against him, Ferdinand returned, defeated the French garrisons, and was welcomed back enthusiastically by the Neapolitans, who were upset by the behavior of their conquerors during the occupation. With the assistance of the great Spanish general Gonzalo de Cordova, he was able to completely free his state from invaders shortly before his death, which occurred on September 7, 1496.

For authorities see under Ferdinand I. of Naples; for the exploits of Gonzalo de Cordova see H.P. del Pulgar, Crónica del gran capitano don Gonzalo de Cordoba (new ed., Madrid, 1834).

For information about the authorities, see under Ferdinand I. of Naples; for the achievements of Gonzalo de Cordova, refer to H.P. del Pulgar, Crónica del gran capitano don Gonzalo de Cordoba (new ed., Madrid, 1834).


FERDINAND IV. (1751-1825), king of Naples (III. of Sicily, and I. of the Two Sicilies), third son of Don Carlos of Bourbon, king of Naples and Sicily (afterwards Charles III. of Spain), was born in Naples on the 12th of January 1751. When his father ascended the Spanish throne in 1759 Ferdinand, in accordance with the treaties forbidding the union of the two crowns, succeeded him as king of Naples, under a regency presided over by the Tuscan Bernardo Tanucci. The latter, an able, ambitious man, wishing to keep the government as much as possible in his own hands, purposely neglected the young king’s education, and encouraged him in his love of pleasure, his idleness and his excessive devotion to outdoor sports. Ferdinand grew up athletic, but ignorant, ill-bred, addicted to the lowest amusements; he delighted in the company of the lazzaroni (the most degraded class of the Neapolitan people), whose dialect and habits he affected, and he even sold fish in the market, haggling over the price.

FERDINAND IV. (1751-1825), king of Naples (III. of Sicily, and I. of the Two Sicilies), was the third son of Don Carlos of Bourbon, king of Naples and Sicily (later Charles III. of Spain). He was born in Naples on January 12, 1751. When his father became king of Spain in 1759, Ferdinand took over as king of Naples, following treaties that prevented the two crowns from merging. He was placed under a regency led by the Tuscan Bernardo Tanucci. Tanucci, a skilled and ambitious man, aimed to keep control of the government and intentionally overlooked the young king’s education, focusing instead on encouraging his love for pleasure, laziness, and excessive outdoor sports. Ferdinand grew up athletic but uneducated, poorly mannered, and indulged in the most basic amusements. He enjoyed the company of the lazzaroni (the lowest class of Neapolitan society), mimicking their dialect and customs, and even sold fish in the market, bargaining over the prices.

His minority ended in 1767, and his first act was the expulsion of the Jesuits. The following year he married Maria Carolina, daughter of the empress Maria Theresa. By the marriage contract the queen was to have a voice in the council of state after the birth of her first son, and she was not slow to avail herself of this means of political influence. Beautiful, clever and proud, like her mother, but cruel and treacherous, her ambition was to raise the kingdom of Naples to the position of a great power; she soon came to exercise complete sway over her stupid and idle husband, and was the real ruler of the kingdom. Tanucci, who attempted to thwart her, was dismissed in 1777, and the Englishman Sir John Acton (1736), who in 1779 was appointed director of marine, succeeded in so completely winning the favour of Maria Carolina, by supporting her in her scheme to free Naples from Spanish influence and securing a rapprochement with Austria and England, that he became practically and afterwards actually prime minister. Although not a mere grasping adventurer, he was largely responsible for reducing the internal administration of the country to an abominable system of espionage, corruption and cruelty. On the outbreak of the French Revolution the Neapolitan court was not hostile to the movement, and the queen even sympathized with the revolutionary ideas of the day. But when the French monarchy was abolished and the royal pair beheaded, Ferdinand and Carolina were seized with a feeling of fear and horror and joined the first coalition against France in 1793. Although peace was made with France in 1796, the demands of the French Directory, whose troops occupied Rome, alarmed the king once more, and at his wife’s instigation he took advantage of Napoleon’s absence in Egypt and of Nelson’s victories to go to war. He marched with his army against the French and entered Rome (29th of November), but on the defeat of some of his columns he hurried back to Naples, and on the approach of the French, fled on board Nelson’s ship the “Vanguard” to Sicily, leaving his capital in a state of anarchy. The French entered the city in spite of the fierce resistance of the lazzaroni, who were devoted to the king, and with the aid of the nobles and bourgeois established the Parthenopaean Republic (January 1799). When a few weeks later the French troops were recalled to the north of Italy, Ferdinand sent an expedition composed of Calabrians, brigands and gaol-birds, under Cardinal Ruffo, a man of real ability, great devotion to the king, and by no means so bad as he has been painted, to reconquer the mainland kingdom. Ruffo was completely successful, and reached Naples in May. His army and the lazzaroni committed nameless atrocities, which he honestly tried to prevent, and the Parthenopaean Republic collapsed.

His minority ended in 1767, and his first action was to expel the Jesuits. The following year, he married Maria Carolina, the daughter of Empress Maria Theresa. According to their marriage contract, the queen was to have a say in the council of state after her first son was born, and she quickly took advantage of this political influence. Beautiful, intelligent, and proud like her mother, but also cruel and cunning, her ambition was to elevate the kingdom of Naples to a major power; she soon held complete control over her foolish and lazy husband, becoming the true ruler of the kingdom. Tanucci, who tried to oppose her, was dismissed in 1777, and the Englishman Sir John Acton (1736), who was appointed director of marine in 1779, managed to gain Maria Carolina’s favor by backing her efforts to free Naples from Spanish influence and fostering connections with Austria and England, eventually becoming effectively and later actually prime minister. Although he wasn't just a greedy opportunist, he played a significant role in turning the internal administration of the country into a dreadful system of espionage, corruption, and cruelty. When the French Revolution broke out, the Neapolitan court was not against the movement, and the queen even resonated with the revolutionary ideas of the time. However, when the French monarchy was abolished and the royal couple was executed, Ferdinand and Carolina were overwhelmed with fear and horror, joining the first coalition against France in 1793. Although peace was made with France in 1796, the demands from the French Directory, whose troops occupied Rome, once again frightened the king, and at his wife's urging, he took advantage of Napoleon’s absence in Egypt and Nelson’s victories to go to war. He marched his army against the French and entered Rome on November 29, but after some of his units were defeated, he rushed back to Naples and, as the French approached, fled aboard Nelson’s ship, the "Vanguard," to Sicily, leaving his capital in chaos. The French entered the city despite fierce resistance from the lazzaroni, who were loyal to the king, and with the support of nobles and bourgeoisie, established the Parthenopaean Republic in January 1799. A few weeks later, when the French troops were recalled to northern Italy, Ferdinand sent an expedition made up of Calabrians, brigands, and criminals, led by Cardinal Ruffo, a capable man who was truly devoted to the king and not as bad as he's often portrayed, to reclaim the mainland kingdom. Ruffo achieved complete success and reached Naples in May. His army and the lazzaroni committed unspeakable atrocities, which he honestly tried to prevent, and the Parthenopaean Republic fell apart.

The savage punishment of the Neapolitan Republicans is dealt with in more detail under Naples, Nelson and Caracciolo, but it is necessary to say here that the king, and above all the queen, were particularly anxious that no mercy should be shown to the rebels, and Maria Carolina made use of Lady Hamilton, Nelson’s mistress, to induce him to execute her own spiteful vengeance. Her only excuse is that as a sister of Marie Antoinette the very name of Republican or Jacobin filled her with loathing. The king returned to Naples soon afterwards, and ordered wholesale arrests and executions of supposed Liberals, which continued until the French successes forced him to agree to a treaty in which amnesty for members of the French party was included. When war broke out between France and Austria in 1805, Ferdinand signed a treaty of neutrality with the former, but a few days later he allied himself with Austria and allowed an Anglo-Russian force to land at Naples. The French victory at Austerlitz enabled Napoleon to despatch an army to southern Italy. Ferdinand with his usual precipitation fled to Palermo (23rd of January 1806), followed soon after by his wife and son, and on the 14th of February the French again entered Naples. Napoleon declared that the Bourbon dynasty had forfeited the crown, and proclaimed his brother Joseph king of Naples and Sicily. But Ferdinand continued to reign over the latter kingdom under British protection. Parliamentary institutions of a feudal type had long existed in the island, and Lord William Bentinck (q.v.), the British minister, insisted on a reform of the constitution on English and French lines. The king indeed practically abdicated his power, appointing his son Francis 265 regent, and the queen, at Bentinck’s instance, was exiled to Austria, where she died in 1814.

The brutal punishment of the Neapolitan Republicans is discussed more thoroughly under Naples, Nelson, and Caracciolo, but it’s important to mention here that the king, and especially the queen, were particularly eager that no mercy should be shown to the rebels. Maria Carolina used Lady Hamilton, Nelson’s mistress, to persuade him to carry out her vindictive revenge. Her only justification is that, as the sister of Marie Antoinette, the mere mention of Republican or Jacobin made her feel revulsion. The king returned to Naples shortly after and ordered mass arrests and executions of suspected Liberals, which continued until French victories forced him to agree to a treaty that included amnesty for members of the French party. When war broke out between France and Austria in 1805, Ferdinand signed a neutrality treaty with France, but a few days later he allied himself with Austria and let an Anglo-Russian force land at Naples. The French victory at Austerlitz allowed Napoleon to send an army to southern Italy. Ferdinand, with his usual rashness, fled to Palermo on January 23, 1806, soon followed by his wife and son, and on February 14, the French re-entered Naples. Napoleon declared that the Bourbon dynasty had lost the crown and announced his brother Joseph as king of Naples and Sicily. However, Ferdinand continued to rule the latter kingdom with British protection. Feudal parliamentary institutions had long existed on the island, and Lord William Bentinck (q.v.), the British minister, pushed for a reform of the constitution based on English and French models. The king essentially abdicated his power, appointing his son Francis as regent, and the queen, at Bentinck’s request, was exiled to Austria, where she died in 1814.

After the fall of Napoleon, Joachim Murat, who had succeeded Joseph Bonaparte as king of Naples in 1808, was dethroned, and Ferdinand returned to Naples. By a secret treaty he had bound himself not to advance further in a constitutional direction than Austria should at any time approve; but, though on the whole he acted in accordance with Metternich’s policy of preserving the status quo, and maintained with but slight change Murat’s laws and administrative system, he took advantage of the situation to abolish the Sicilian constitution, in violation of his oath, and to proclaim the union of the two states into the kingdom of the Two Sicilies (December 12th, 1816). He was now completely subservient to Austria, an Austrian, Count Nugent, being even made commander-in-chief of the army; and for four years he reigned as a despot, every tentative effort at the expression of liberal opinion being ruthlessly suppressed. The result was an alarming spread of the influence and activity of the secret society of the Carbonari (q.v.), which in time affected a large part of the army. In July 1820 a military revolt broke out under General Pepe, and Ferdinand was terrorized into subscribing a constitution on the model of the impracticable Spanish constitution of 1812. On the other hand, a revolt in Sicily, in favour of the recovery of its independence, was suppressed by Neapolitan troops.

After Napoleon fell, Joachim Murat, who became king of Naples in 1808 after Joseph Bonaparte, was overthrown, and Ferdinand returned to Naples. Through a secret treaty, he committed not to go further in a constitutional direction than Austria would approve at any time; however, while he mostly followed Metternich’s strategy of maintaining the status quo and made only minor adjustments to Murat’s laws and administration, he took the opportunity to abolish the Sicilian constitution, breaking his oath, and declared the union of the two states as the kingdom of the Two Sicilies on December 12, 1816. He was now fully compliant with Austria, with an Austrian, Count Nugent, appointed as commander-in-chief of the army; for four years he ruled as a tyrant, brutally suppressing any attempts to express liberal views. As a result, the influence and activity of the secret society Carbonari (q.v.) alarmingly grew, eventually affecting a large portion of the army. In July 1820, a military revolt led by General Pepe broke out, and Ferdinand was coerced into agreeing to a constitution modeled after the unworkable Spanish constitution of 1812. Meanwhile, a revolt in Sicily to regain its independence was quashed by Neapolitan troops.

The success of the military revolution at Naples seriously alarmed the powers of the Holy Alliance, who feared that it might spread to other Italian states and so lead to that general European conflagration which it was their main preoccupation to avoid (see Europe: History). After long diplomatic negotiations, it was decided to hold a congress ad hoc at Troppau (October 1820). The main results of this congress were the issue of the famous Troppau Protocol, signed by Austria, Prussia and Russia only, and an invitation to King Ferdinand to attend the adjourned congress at Laibach (1821), an invitation of which Great Britain approved “as implying negotiation” (see Troppau, Laibach, Congresses of). At Laibach Ferdinand played so sorry a part as to provoke the contempt of those whose policy it was to re-establish him in absolute power. He had twice sworn, with gratuitous solemnity, to maintain the new constitution; but he was hardly out of Naples before he repudiated his oaths and, in letters addressed to all the sovereigns of Europe, declared his acts to have been null and void. An attitude so indecent threatened to defeat the very objects of the reactionary powers, and Gentz congratulated the congress that these sorry protests would be buried in the archives, offering at the same time to write for the king a dignified letter in which he should express his reluctance at having to violate his oaths in the face of irresistible force! But, under these circumstances, Metternich had no difficulty in persuading the king to allow an Austrian army to march into Naples “to restore order.”

The success of the military revolution in Naples seriously worried the powers of the Holy Alliance, who feared it could spread to other Italian states and lead to a widespread European conflict that they were primarily trying to avoid (see Europe: History). After lengthy diplomatic talks, they decided to hold a special congress at Troppau (October 1820). The main outcomes of this congress were the issuance of the famous Troppau Protocol, signed only by Austria, Prussia, and Russia, and an invitation to King Ferdinand to attend the postponed congress in Laibach (1821), an invitation that Great Britain approved “as implying negotiation” (see Troppau, Laibach, Congresses of). At Laibach, Ferdinand played such a pitiable role that it earned him the disdain of those whose aim was to restore him to absolute power. He had sworn twice, with unnecessary seriousness, to uphold the new constitution; but as soon as he left Naples, he rejected his oaths and, in letters to all the monarchs of Europe, declared his actions to be null and void. Such an indecent stance threatened to undermine the very goals of the reactionary powers, and Gentz congratulated the congress, saying that these pathetic protests would be filed away in the archives, while offering to draft a dignified letter for the king in which he would express his reluctance to break his oaths in the face of overwhelming force! However, under these conditions, Metternich had no trouble convincing the king to permit an Austrian army to march into Naples “to restore order.”

The campaign that followed did little credit either to the Austrians or the Neapolitans. The latter, commanded by General Pepe (q.v.), who made no attempt to defend the difficult defiles of the Abruzzi, were defeated, after a half-hearted struggle at Rieti (March 7th, 1821), and the Austrians entered Naples. The parliament was now dismissed, and Ferdinand inaugurated an era of savage persecution, supported by spies and informers, against the Liberals and Carbonari, the Austrian commandant in vain protesting against the savagery which his presence alone rendered possible.

The campaign that followed brought little honor to the Austrians or the Neapolitans. The Neapolitans, led by General Pepe (q.v.), who didn't even try to defend the challenging passes of the Abruzzi, were defeated after a lackluster effort at Rieti (March 7th, 1821), allowing the Austrians to take control of Naples. The parliament was then dissolved, and Ferdinand began a period of brutal persecution, backed by spies and informers, targeting the Liberals and Carbonari, with the Austrian commander futilely protesting against the brutality that his mere presence allowed.

Ferdinand died on the 4th of January 1825. Few sovereigns have left behind so odious a memory. His whole career is one long record of perjury, vengeance and meanness, unredeemed by a single generous act, and his wife was a worthy helpmeet and actively co-operated in his tyranny.

Ferdinand died on January 4, 1825. Few rulers have left such a terrible legacy. His entire life is a continuous account of lies, revenge, and cruelty, with not a single act of kindness to redeem him, and his wife was a fitting partner who actively supported his tyranny.

Bibliography.—The standard authority on Ferdinand’s reign is Pietro Colletta’s Storia del Reame di Napoli (2nd ed., Florence, 1848), which, although heavily written and not free from party passion, is reliable and accurate; L. Conforti, Napoli nel 1799 (Naples, 1886); G. Pepe, Memorie (Paris, 1847), a most valuable book; C. Auriol, La France, l’Angleterre, et Naples (Paris, 1906); for the Sicilian period and the British occupation, G. Bianco, La Sicilia durante l’occupazione Inglese (Palermo, 1902), which contains many new documents of importance; Freiherr A. von Helfert has attempted the impossible task of whitewashing Queen Carolina in his Königin Karolina von Neapel und Sicilien (Vienna, 1878), and Maria Karolina von Oesterreich (Vienna, 1884); he has also written a useful life of Fabrizio Ruffo (Italian edit., Florence, 1885); for the Sicilian revolution of 1820 see G. Bianco’s La Rivoluzione in Sicilia del 1820 (Florence, 1905), and M. Amari’s Carteggio (Turin, 1896).

References.—The go-to source on Ferdinand’s reign is Pietro Colletta’s Storia del Reame di Napoli (2nd ed., Florence, 1848), which, while dense and somewhat biased, is still reliable and accurate; L. Conforti, Napoli nel 1799 (Naples, 1886); G. Pepe, Memorie (Paris, 1847), a highly valuable book; C. Auriol, La France, l’Angleterre, et Naples (Paris, 1906); for the Sicilian period and the British occupation, G. Bianco, La Sicilia durante l’occupazione Inglese (Palermo, 1902), which features many important new documents; Freiherr A. von Helfert has tried the challenging task of defending Queen Carolina in his Königin Karolina von Neapel und Sicilien (Vienna, 1878), and Maria Karolina von Oesterreich (Vienna, 1884); he has also written a useful biography of Fabrizio Ruffo (Italian edit., Florence, 1885); for the Sicilian revolution of 1820, see G. Bianco’s La Rivoluzione in Sicilia del 1820 (Florence, 1905), and M. Amari’s Carteggio (Turin, 1896).

(L. V.*)

FERDINAND I., king of Portugal (1345-1383), sometimes referred to as el Gentil (the Gentleman), son of Pedro I. of Portugal (who is not to be confounded with his Spanish contemporary Pedro the Cruel), succeeded his father in 1367. On the death of Pedro of Castile in 1369, Ferdinand, as great-grandson of Sancho IV. by the female line, laid claim to the vacant throne, for which the kings of Aragon and Navarre, and afterwards the duke of Lancaster (married in 1370 to Constance, the eldest daughter of Pedro), also became competitors. Meanwhile Henry of Trastamara, the brother (illegitimate) and conqueror of Pedro, had assumed the crown and taken the field. After one or two indecisive campaigns, all parties were ready to accept the mediation of Pope Gregory XI. The conditions of the treaty, ratified in 1371, included a marriage between Ferdinand and Leonora of Castile. But before the union could take place the former had become passionately attached to Leonora Tellez, the wife of one of his own courtiers, and having procured a dissolution of her previous marriage, he lost no time in making her his queen. This strange conduct, although it raised a serious insurrection in Portugal, did not at once result in a war with Henry; but the outward concord was soon disturbed by the intrigues of the duke of Lancaster, who prevailed on Ferdinand to enter into a secret treaty for the expulsion of Henry from his throne. The war which followed was unsuccessful; and peace was again made in 1373. On the death of Henry in 1379, the duke of Lancaster once more put forward his claims, and again found an ally in Portugal; but, according to the Continental annalists, the English proved as offensive to their companions in arms as to their enemies in the field; and Ferdinand made a peace for himself at Badajoz in 1382, it being stipulated that Beatrix, the heiress of Ferdinand, should marry King John of Castile, and thus secure the ultimate union of the crowns. Ferdinand left no male issue when he died on the 22nd of October 1383, and the direct Burgundian line, which had been in possession of the throne since the days of Count Henry (about 1112), became extinct. The stipulations of the treaty of Badajoz were set aside, and John, grand-master of the order of Aviz, Ferdinand’s illegitimate brother, was proclaimed. This led to a war which lasted for several years.

FERDINAND I., king of Portugal (1345-1383), sometimes known as el Gentil (the Gentleman), was the son of Pedro I of Portugal (not to be confused with his Spanish contemporary Pedro the Cruel). He succeeded his father in 1367. After the death of Pedro of Castile in 1369, Ferdinand, being the great-grandson of Sancho IV through the female line, claimed the vacant throne, competing with the kings of Aragon and Navarre, and later the Duke of Lancaster, who was married in 1370 to Constance, the eldest daughter of Pedro. Meanwhile, Henry of Trastamara, the illegitimate brother and conqueror of Pedro, had taken the crown and gone to war. After a couple of inconclusive battles, all parties agreed to let Pope Gregory XI mediate. The treaty conditions, ratified in 1371, included a marriage between Ferdinand and Leonora of Castile. However, before the marriage could occur, Ferdinand fell in love with Leonora Tellez, the wife of one of his own courtiers. After obtaining a dissolution of her previous marriage, he quickly married her, which sparked a serious uprising in Portugal. Although this did not immediately lead to war with Henry, the peace was soon disrupted by the Duke of Lancaster's intrigues, which persuaded Ferdinand to secretly plot to remove Henry from the throne. The subsequent war was unsuccessful, and peace was restored in 1373. When Henry died in 1379, the Duke of Lancaster revived his claims and found an ally in Portugal again, but according to the Continental historians, the English were as problematic for their allies as they were for their enemies. Ferdinand negotiated a peace at Badajoz in 1382, stipulating that Beatrix, Ferdinand's heiress, would marry King John of Castile, ultimately uniting the crowns. Ferdinand died on October 22, 1383, without a male heir, leading to the extinction of the direct Burgundian line that had ruled since Count Henry's time (around 1112). The terms of the treaty of Badajoz were ignored, and John, the grand-master of the order of Aviz and Ferdinand’s illegitimate brother, was declared king. This resulted in a war that lasted several years.


FERDINAND I., El Magno or “the Great,” king of Castile (d. 1065), son of Sancho of Navarre, was put in possession of Castile in 1028, on the murder of the last count, as the heir of his mother Elvira, daughter of a previous count of Castile. He reigned with the title of king. He married Sancha, sister and heiress of Bermudo, king of Leon. In 1038 Bermudo was killed in battle with Ferdinand at Tamaron, and Ferdinand then took possession of Leon by right of his wife, and was recognized in Spain as emperor. The use of the title was resented by the emperor Henry IV. and by Pope Victor II. in 1055, as implying a claim to the headship of Christendom, and as a usurpation on the Holy Roman Empire. It did not, however, mean more than that Spain was independent of the Empire, and that the sovereign of Leon was the chief of the princes of the peninsula. Although Ferdinand had grown in power by a fratricidal strife with Bermudo of Leon, and though at a later date he defeated and killed his brother Garcia of Navarre, he ranks high among the kings of Spain who have been counted religious. To a large extent he may have owed his reputation to the victories over the Mahommedans, with which he began the period of the great reconquest. But there can be no doubt that Ferdinand was profoundly pious. Towards the close of his reign he sent a special embassy to Seville to bring back the body of Santa Justa. The then king of Seville, Motadhid, one of the small princes who had divided the caliphate of Cordova, was himself a sceptic and poisoner, but he stood in wholesome awe of the power of the 266 Christian king. He favoured the embassy in every way, and when the body of Santa Justa could not be found, helped the envoys who were also aided by a vision seen by one of them in a dream, to discover the body of Saint Isidore, which was reverently carried away to Leon. Ferdinand died on the feast of Saint John the Evangelist, the 24th of June 1065, in Leon, with many manifestations of ardent piety—having laid aside his crown and royal mantle, dressed in the frock of a monk and lying on a bier, covered with ashes, which was placed before the altar of the church of Saint Isidore.

FERDINAND I., El Magno or “the Great,” king of Castile (d. 1065), son of Sancho of Navarre, took control of Castile in 1028 after the murder of the last count, as the heir of his mother Elvira, who was the daughter of a previous count of Castile. He ruled with the title of king. He married Sancha, sister and heiress of Bermudo, king of Leon. In 1038, Bermudo was killed in battle by Ferdinand at Tamaron, and Ferdinand then claimed Leon through his wife, gaining recognition in Spain as emperor. This title was frowned upon by Emperor Henry IV and Pope Victor II in 1055, as it implied a claim to leadership over Christendom and was seen as a challenge to the Holy Roman Empire. However, it mainly indicated that Spain was independent from the Empire, and that the ruler of Leon was the leader of the princes of the peninsula. Although Ferdinand gained power through his violent conflict with Bermudo of Leon, and later defeated and killed his brother Garcia of Navarre, he is regarded as one of the more religious kings of Spain. Much of his reputation may have come from his victories over the Muslims, marking the beginning of the great reconquest period. Yet, there’s no doubt that Ferdinand was deeply devout. Towards the end of his reign, he sent a special delegation to Seville to retrieve the body of Santa Justa. The king of Seville at that time, Motadhid, one of the minor princes who had taken pieces of the caliphate of Cordova, was himself skeptical and manipulative, but he respected the power of the Christian king. He supported the delegation in every way, and when the body of Santa Justa could not be found, he assisted the envoys, who were also guided by a vision seen by one of them in a dream, to discover the body of Saint Isidore, which was then respectfully taken to Leon. Ferdinand died on the feast of Saint John the Evangelist, June 24, 1065, in Leon, displaying many signs of deep piety—having removed his crown and royal robe, dressed in a monk's habit, and lying on a bier covered with ashes, positioned before the altar of the church of Saint Isidore.


FERDINAND II., king of Leon only (d. 1188), was the son of Alphonso VII. and of Berenguela, of the house of the counts of Barcelona. On the division of the kingdoms which had obeyed his father, he received Leon. His reign of thirty years was one of strife marked by no signal success or reverse. He had to contend with his unruly nobles, several of whom he put to death. During the minority of his nephew Alphonso VIII. of Castile he endeavoured to impose himself on the kingdom as regent. On the west he was in more or less constant strife with Portugal, which was in process of becoming an independent kingdom. His relations to the Portuguese house must have suffered by his repudiation of his wife Urraca, daughter of Alphonso I. of Portugal. Though he took the king of Portugal prisoner in 1180, he made no political use of his success. He extended his dominions southward in Estremadura at the expense of the Moors. Ferdinand, who died in 1188, left the reputation of a good knight and hard fighter, but did not display political or organizing faculty.

FERDINAND II., king of Leon only (d. 1188), was the son of Alphonso VII. and Berenguela, from the family of the counts of Barcelona. When the kingdoms that had followed his father were divided, he received Leon. His thirty-year reign was filled with conflict but didn’t see any major victories or defeats. He struggled with his rebellious nobles, several of whom he executed. During his nephew Alphonso VIII.'s minority in Castile, he tried to take control as regent. In the west, he was often at odds with Portugal, which was on its way to becoming an independent kingdom. His relationship with the Portuguese royal family likely suffered when he rejected his wife Urraca, the daughter of Alphonso I of Portugal. Although he captured the king of Portugal in 1180, he didn’t leverage this success for political advantage. He expanded his territory south into Estremadura at the Moors' expense. Ferdinand, who died in 1188, was known as a brave knight and tough fighter but didn’t show strong political or organizational skills.


FERDINAND III., El Santo or “the Saint,” king of Castile (1199-1252), son of Alphonso IX. of Leon, and of Berengaria, daughter of Alphonso VIII. of Castile, ranks among the greatest of the Spanish kings. The marriage of his parents, who were second cousins, was dissolved as unlawful by the pope, but the legitimacy of the children was recognized. Till 1217 he lived with his father in Leon. In that year the young king of Castile, Henry, was killed by accident. Berengaria sent for her son with such speed that her messenger reached Leon before the news of the death of the king of Castile, and when he came to her she renounced the crown in his favour. Alphonso of Leon considered himself tricked, and the young king had to begin his reign by a war against his father and a faction of the Castilian nobles. His own ability and the remarkable capacity of his mother proved too much for the king of Leon and his Castilian allies. Ferdinand, who showed himself docile to the influence of Berengaria, so long as she lived, married the wife she found for him, Beatrice, daughter of the emperor Philip (of Hohenstaufen), and followed her advice both in prosecuting the war against the Moors and in the steps which she took to secure his peaceful succession to Leon on the death of his father in 1231. After the union of Castile and Leon in that year he began the series of campaigns which ended by reducing the Mahommedan dominions in Spain to Granada. Cordova fell in 1236, and Seville in 1248. The king of Granada did homage to Ferdinand, and undertook to attend the cortes when summoned. The king was a severe persecutor of the Albigenses, and his formal canonization was due as much to his orthodoxy as to his crusading by Pope Clement X. in 1671. He revived the university first founded by his grandfather Alphonso VIII., and placed it at Salamanca. By his second marriage with Joan (d. 1279), daughter of Simon, of Dammartin, count of Ponthieu, by right of his wife Marie, Ferdinand was the father of Eleanor, the wife of Edward I. of England.

FERDINAND III., El Santo or “the Saint,” king of Castile (1199-1252), was the son of Alphonso IX. of Leon and Berengaria, daughter of Alphonso VIII. of Castile. He is regarded as one of the greatest Spanish kings. The marriage of his parents, who were second cousins, was declared unlawful by the pope, but their children's legitimacy was recognized. Until 1217, he lived with his father in Leon. That year, the young king of Castile, Henry, died accidentally. Berengaria sent for her son so quickly that her messenger reached Leon before news of the king’s death, and when Ferdinand arrived, she abdicated the crown in his favor. Alphonso of Leon felt deceived, and Ferdinand had to start his reign with a war against his father and a faction of Castilian nobles. His own skills and his mother's remarkable capabilities were more than a match for the king of Leon and his Castilian allies. Ferdinand, who remained receptive to his mother Berengaria's influence throughout her life, married Beatrice, the daughter of Emperor Philip (of Hohenstaufen). He followed her advice in waging war against the Moors and in securing his peaceful succession to Leon after his father's death in 1231. After the unification of Castile and Leon that year, he launched a series of campaigns that ultimately reduced Muslim territories in Spain to Granada. Córdoba fell in 1236, and Seville in 1248. The king of Granada paid homage to Ferdinand and agreed to attend the cortes when called. He was a harsh persecutor of the Albigenses, and his formal canonization by Pope Clement X. in 1671 resulted as much from his orthodox beliefs as from his crusading efforts. He revived the university originally founded by his grandfather Alphonso VIII. and established it in Salamanca. Through his second marriage to Joan (d. 1279), daughter of Simon, Count of Ponthieu, by his wife Marie, Ferdinand became the father of Eleanor, who married Edward I of England.


FERDINAND IV., El Emplazado or “the Summoned,” king of Castile (d. 1312), son of Sancho El Bravo, and his wife Maria de Molina, is a figure of small note in Spanish history. His strange title is given him in the chronicles on the strength of a story that he put two brothers of the name of Carvajal to death tyrannically, and was given a time, a plazo, by them in which to answer for his crime in the next world. But the tale is not contemporary, and is an obvious copy of the story told of Jacques de Molay, grand-master of the Temple, and Philippe Le Bel. Ferdinand IV. succeeded to the throne when a boy of six. His minority was a time of anarchy. He owed his escape from the violence of competitors and nobles, partly to the tact and undaunted bravery of his mother Maria de Molina, and partly to the loyalty of the citizens of Avila, who gave him refuge within their walls. As a king he proved ungrateful to his mother, and weak as a ruler. He died suddenly in his tent at Jaen when preparing for a raid into the Moorish territory of Granada, on the 7th of September 1312.

FERDINAND IV., The Summoned, king of Castile (d. 1312), son of Sancho El Bravo and his wife Maria de Molina, is a minor figure in Spanish history. His unusual title comes from a story where he cruelly executed two brothers named Carvajal and was given a deadline, a plazo, by them to answer for his crime in the afterlife. However, this story isn't contemporary and seems to be a copy of the tale involving Jacques de Molay, the grand-master of the Temple, and Philippe Le Bel. Ferdinand IV came to the throne at the young age of six. His childhood was marked by chaos. He managed to escape the violence from rivals and nobles, thanks in part to the skill and fearless courage of his mother Maria de Molina, and also due to the loyalty of the citizens of Avila, who provided him shelter within their walls. As a king, he was ungrateful to his mother and ineffective as a ruler. He died suddenly in his tent at Jaen while preparing for an incursion into the Moorish territory of Granada on September 7, 1312.


FERDINAND I., king of Aragon (1373-1416), called “of Antequera,” was the son of John I. of Castile by his wife Eleanor, daughter of the third marriage of Peter IV. of Aragon. His surname “of Antequera” was given him because he was besieging that town, then in the hands of the Moors, when he was told that the cortes of Aragon had elected him king in succession to his uncle Martin, the last male of the old line of Wilfred the Hairy. As infante of Castile Ferdinand had played an honourable part. When his brother Henry III. died at Toledo, in 1406, the cortes was sitting, and the nobles offered to make him king in preference to his nephew John. Ferdinand refused to despoil his brother’s infant son, and even if he did not act on the moral ground he alleged, his sagacity must have shown him that he would be at the mercy of the men who had chosen him in such circumstances. As co-regent of the kingdom with Catherine, widow of Henry III. and daughter of John of Gaunt by his marriage with Constance, daughter of Peter the Cruel and Maria de Padilla, Ferdinand proved a good ruler. He restrained the follies of his sister-in-law, and kept the realm quiet, by firm government, and by prosecuting the war with the Moors. As king of Aragon his short reign of two years left him little time to make his mark. Having been bred in Castile, where the royal authority was, at least in theory, absolute, he showed himself impatient under the checks imposed on him by the fueros, the chartered rights of Aragon and Catalonia. He particularly resented the obstinacy of the Barcelonese, who compelled the members of his household to pay municipal taxes. His most signal act as king was to aid in closing the Great Schism in the Church by agreeing to the deposition of the antipope Benedict XIV., an Aragonese. He died at Ygualada in Catalonia on the 2nd of April 1416.

FERDINAND I., King of Aragon (1373-1416), known as “of Antequera,” was the son of John I of Castile and his wife Eleanor, who was the daughter from Peter IV of Aragon’s third marriage. He earned the nickname “of Antequera” while he was besieging that town, which was then held by the Moors, when he learned that the cortes of Aragon had chosen him to be king following his uncle Martin, the last male descendant of the old line of Wilfred the Hairy. As an infante of Castile, Ferdinand played a respectable role. When his brother Henry III died in Toledo in 1406, while the cortes was in session, the nobles offered to make him king instead of his nephew John. Ferdinand declined, not wanting to take the throne from his brother’s young son, and even if his decision wasn’t based solely on moral grounds, he must have recognized that he would be vulnerable to the nobles who had elected him under such circumstances. As co-regent of the kingdom with Catherine, the widow of Henry III and the daughter of John of Gaunt by his marriage to Constance, who was the daughter of Peter the Cruel and Maria de Padilla, Ferdinand proved to be an effective ruler. He managed to keep his sister-in-law's excesses in check and maintained stability in the realm through strong governance and by continuing the war against the Moors. His brief two-year reign as king of Aragon gave him little opportunity to leave a lasting legacy. Having been raised in Castile, where royal authority was, at least in theory, absolute, he quickly grew impatient with the limitations imposed on him by the fueros, the charters of rights in Aragon and Catalonia. He was especially frustrated by the stubbornness of the people of Barcelona, who forced members of his household to pay local taxes. His most notable action as king was helping to resolve the Great Schism in the Church by agreeing to the deposition of the antipope Benedict XIV, who was from Aragon. He died in Igualada, Catalonia, on April 2, 1416.


FERDINAND V. of Castile and Leon, and II. of Aragon (1452-1516), was the son of John I. of Aragon by his second marriage with Joanna Henriquez, of the family of the hereditary grand admirals of Castile, and was born at Sos in Aragon on the 16th of March 1452. Under the name of “the Catholic” and as the husband of Isabella, queen of Castile, he played a great part in Europe. His share in establishing the royal authority in all parts of Spain, in expelling the Moors from Granada, in the conquest of Navarre, in forwarding the voyages of Columbus, and in contending with France for the supremacy in Italy, is dealt with elsewhere (see Spain: History). In personal character he had none of the attractive qualities of his wife. It may fairly be said of him that he was purely a politician. His marriage in 1469 to his cousin Isabella of Castile was dictated by the desire to unite his own claims to the crown, as the head of the younger branch of the same family, with hers, in case Henry IV. should die childless. When the king died in 1474 he made an ungenerous attempt to procure his own proclamation as king without recognition of the rights of his wife. Isabella asserted her claims firmly, and at all times insisted on a voice in the government of Castile. But though Ferdinand had sought a selfish political advantage at his wife’s expense, he was well aware of her ability and high character. Their married life was dignified and harmonious; for Ferdinand had no common vices, and their views in government were identical. The king cared for nothing but dominion and political power. His character explains the most ungracious acts of his life, such as his breach of his promises to Columbus, his distrust of Ximenez and of the Great Captain. He had given wide privileges to Columbus on the supposition that the discoverer would reach powerful kingdoms. When islands inhabited by feeble savages were discovered, Ferdinand appreciated the risk that they might become the seat of a power too strong to be controlled, and took measures to avert the danger. He feared that Jiménez and the 267 Great Captain would become too independent, and watched them in the interest of the royal authority. Whether he ever boasted, as he is said to have boasted, that he had deceived Louis XII. of France twelve times, is very doubtful; but it is certain that when Ferdinand made a treaty, or came to an understanding with any one, the contract was generally found to contain implied meanings favourable to himself which the other contracting party had not expected. The worst of his character was prominently shown after the death of Isabella in 1504. He endeavoured to lay hands on the regency of Castile in the name of his insane daughter Joanna, and without regard to the claims of her husband Philip of Habsburg. The hostility of the Castilian nobles, by whom he was disliked, baffled him for a time, but on Philip’s early death he reasserted his authority. His second marriage with Germaine of Foix in 1505 was apparently contracted in the hope that by securing an heir male he might punish his Habsburg son-in-law. Aragon did not recognize the right of women to reign, and would have been detached together with Catalonia, Valencia and the Italian states if he had had a son. This was the only occasion on which Ferdinand allowed passion to obscure his political sense, and lead him into acts which tended to undo his work of national unification. As king of Aragon he abstained from inroads on the liberties of his subjects which might have provoked rebellion. A few acts of illegal violence are recorded of him—as when he invited a notorious demagogue of Saragossa to visit him in the palace, and caused the man to be executed without form of trial. Once when presiding over the Aragonese cortes he found himself sitting in a thorough draught and ordered the window to be shut, adding in a lower voice, “If it is not against the fueros.” But his ill-will did not go beyond such sneers. He was too intent on building up a great state to complicate his difficulties by internal troubles. His arrangement of the convention of Guadalupe, which ended the fierce Agrarian conflicts of Catalonia, was wise and profitable to the country, though it was probably dictated mainly by a wish to weaken the landowners by taking away their feudal rights. Ferdinand died at Madrigalejo in Estremadura on the 23rd of February 1516.

FERDINAND V. of Castile and Leon, and II. of Aragon (1452-1516), was the son of John I. of Aragon from his second marriage with Joanna Henriquez, who belonged to the family of the hereditary grand admirals of Castile. He was born in Sos, Aragon on March 16, 1452. Known as “the Catholic” and as Isabella's husband, the queen of Castile, he played a significant role in European affairs. His contributions to strengthening royal authority throughout Spain, expelling the Moors from Granada, conquering Navarre, supporting Columbus's voyages, and competing with France for dominance in Italy are discussed elsewhere (see Spain: History). In terms of personal character, he lacked the appeal of his wife. It's fair to say he was a straightforward politician. His marriage in 1469 to his cousin Isabella of Castile was motivated by the desire to consolidate his claims to the crown as the head of a younger branch of their family with hers, in case Henry IV died without heirs. When the king passed away in 1474, he made an ungracious attempt to have himself proclaimed king, ignoring his wife's rights. Isabella asserted her claims firmly and insisted on having a say in running Castile. Although Ferdinand sought to gain political advantage at his wife's expense, he recognized her skills and strong character. Their marriage was dignified and harmonious since Ferdinand lacked common vices, and their governance views aligned. The king was primarily focused on dominion and political power. His character explains some of the less gracious actions in his life, like breaking promises to Columbus and doubting Ximenez and the Great Captain. He had given Columbus extensive privileges, believing that the discoverer would find powerful kingdoms. When islands inhabited by weak societies were discovered, Ferdinand realized the risk that they might become sources of uncontrollable power and took steps to prevent this. He worried that Jimenez and the Great Captain would become too autonomous and monitored them to uphold royal authority. Whether he ever claimed, as he is rumored to have claimed, that he deceived Louis XII of France twelve times is debatable; however, it's clear that when Ferdinand made a treaty or reached an agreement, it often contained unspoken terms that favored him, which the other party didn't expect. The darker side of his character became apparent after Isabella's death in 1504. He tried to take control of the regency of Castile in the name of his mentally unstable daughter Joanna, disregarding her husband Philip of Habsburg's claims. Initially, the animosity of the Castilian nobles, who disliked him, thwarted his plans, but upon Philip’s early death, he reestablished his authority. His second marriage to Germaine of Foix in 1505 seemed to be an attempt to secure a male heir to punish his Habsburg son-in-law. Aragon did not accept women's rights to reign and would have separated along with Catalonia, Valencia, and the Italian states if he had had a son. This was the only time Ferdinand let passion cloud his political judgment, leading him to actions that jeopardized his national unification efforts. As king of Aragon, he refrained from infringing upon the liberties of his subjects, which could have sparked rebellion. There are a few instances of unlawful violence attributed to him—like when he invited a notorious demagogue from Saragossa to visit him at the palace and had the man executed without a trial. Once, while presiding over the Aragonese cortes, he found himself sitting in a draft and ordered the window closed, adding quietly, “If it's not against the fueros.” However, his hostility did not extend beyond such remarks. He was too focused on building a strong state to complicate his challenges with internal conflicts. His handling of the convention of Guadalupe, which resolved the intense Agrarian disputes in Catalonia, was wise and beneficial to the country, even though it was likely motivated largely by a desire to diminish the landowners’ power by stripping away their feudal rights. Ferdinand died in Madrigalejo, Estremadura on February 23, 1516.

The lives of the kings of this name before Ferdinand V. are contained in the chronicles, and in the Anales de Aragon of Zurita, and the History of Spain by Mariana. Both deal at length with the life of Ferdinand V. Prescott’s History of the Reign of Ferdinand and Isabella, in any of its numerous editions, gives a full life of him with copious references to authorities.

The lives of the kings with this name before Ferdinand V are documented in the chronicles and in the Anales de Aragon by Zurita, as well as in Mariana's History of Spain. Both sources provide extensive details about Ferdinand V's life. Prescott’s History of the Reign of Ferdinand and Isabella, in any of its many editions, offers a comprehensive account of his life, complete with numerous references to authoritative sources.


FERDINAND VI., king of Spain (1713-1759), second son of Philip V., founder of the Bourbon dynasty, by his first marriage with Maria Louisa of Savoy, was born at Madrid on the 23rd of September 1713. His youth was depressed. His father’s second wife, Elizabeth Farnese, was a managing woman, who had no affection except for her own children, and who looked upon her stepson as an obstacle to their fortunes. The hypochondria of his father left Elizabeth mistress of the palace. Ferdinand was married in 1729 to Maria Magdalena Barbara, daughter of John V. of Portugal. The very homely looks of his wife were thought by observers to cause the prince a visible shock when he was first presented to her. Yet he became deeply attached to his wife, and proved in fact nearly as uxorious as his father. Ferdinand was by temperament melancholy, shy and distrustful of his own abilities. When complimented on his shooting, he replied, “It would be hard if there were not something I could do.” As king he followed a steady policy of neutrality between France and England, and refused to be tempted by the offers of either into declaring war on the other. In his life he was orderly and retiring, averse from taking decisions, though not incapable of acting firmly, as when he cut short the dangerous intrigues of his able minister Ensenada by dismissing and imprisoning him. Shooting and music were his only pleasures, and he was the generous patron of the famous singer Farinelli (q.v.), whose voice soothed his melancholy. The death of his wife Barbara, who had been devoted to him, and who carefully abstained from political intrigue, broke his heart. Between the date of her death in 1758 and his own on the 10th of August 1759 he fell into a state of prostration in which he would not even dress, but wandered unshaven, unwashed and in a night-gown about his park. The memoirs of the count of Fernan Nuñez give a shocking picture of his death-bed.

FERDINAND VI., king of Spain (1713-1759), the second son of Philip V., who founded the Bourbon dynasty with his first wife Maria Louisa of Savoy, was born in Madrid on September 23, 1713. His early years were challenging. His father's second wife, Elizabeth Farnese, was very controlling and showed no affection for her stepson, viewing him as a barrier to her own children's success. His father's hypochondria allowed Elizabeth to dominate the palace. Ferdinand married Maria Magdalena Barbara, the daughter of John V of Portugal, in 1729. Observers noted that his wife's plain looks visibly shocked him when they first met. However, he grew deeply attached to her and was almost as devoted as his father. Ferdinand was naturally melancholic, shy, and unsure of his abilities. When praised for his shooting, he humbly remarked, “It would be hard if there were not something I could do.” As king, he maintained a consistent policy of neutrality between France and England, resisting temptations from either side to declare war. In his personal life, he was orderly and reserved, reluctant to make decisions, though he could act decisively, as demonstrated when he abruptly ended the dangerous schemes of his capable minister Ensenada by dismissing and imprisoning him. His only pastimes were shooting and music, and he generously supported the renowned singer Farinelli (q.v.), whose voice comforted his sadness. The death of his devoted wife Barbara, who had stayed away from political intrigue, shattered him. After her passing in 1758 and until his own death on August 10, 1759, he descended into deep despair, refusing to dress and wandering around his park unshaven, unwashed, and in a nightgown. The memoirs of the count of Fernan Nuñez present a stark depiction of his deathbed.

A good account of the reign and character of Ferdinand VI. will be found in vol. iv. of Coxe’s Memoirs of the Kings of Spain of the House of Bourbon (London, 1815). See also Vida de Carlos III., by the count of Fernan Nuñez, ed. M. Morel Fatio and Don A. Paz y Melia (1898).

A detailed description of Ferdinand VI's reign and character can be found in vol. iv. of Coxe’s Memoirs of the Kings of Spain of the House of Bourbon (London, 1815). Also, check out Vida de Carlos III., by the Count of Fernan Nuñez, edited by M. Morel Fatio and Don A. Paz y Melia (1898).


FERDINAND VII., king of Spain (1784-1833), the eldest son of Charles IV., king of Spain, and of his wife Maria Louisa of Parma, was born at the palace of San Ildefonso near Balsain in the Somosierra hills, on the 14th of October 1784. The events with which he was connected were many, tragic and of the widest European interest. In his youth he occupied the painful position of an heir apparent who was carefully excluded from all share in government by the jealousy of his parents, and the prevalence of a royal favourite. National discontent with a feeble government produced a revolution in 1808 by which he passed to the throne by the forced abdication of his father. Then he spent years as the prisoner of Napoleon, and returned in 1814 to find that while Spain was fighting for independence in his name a new world had been born of foreign invasion and domestic revolution. He came back to assert the ancient doctrine that the sovereign authority resided in his person only. Acting on this principle he ruled frivolously, and with a wanton indulgence of whims. In 1820 his misrule provoked a revolt, and he remained in the hands of insurgents till he was released by foreign intervention in 1823. When free, he revenged himself with a ferocity which disgusted his allies. In his last years he prepared a change in the order of succession established by his dynasty in Spain, which angered a large part of the nation, and made a civil war inevitable. We have to distinguish the part of Ferdinand VII. in all these transactions, in which other and better men were concerned. It can confidently be said to have been uniformly base. He had perhaps no right to complain that he was kept aloof from all share in government while only heir apparent, for this was the traditional practice of his family. But as heir to the throne he had a right to resent the degradation of the crown he was to inherit, and the power of a favourite who was his mother’s lover. If he had put himself at the head of a popular rising he would have been followed, and would have had a good excuse. His course was to enter on dim intrigues at the instigation of his first wife, Maria Antonietta of Naples. After her death in 1806 he was drawn into other intrigues by flatterers, and, in October 1807, was arrested for the conspiracy of the Escorial. The conspiracy aimed at securing the help of the emperor Napoleon. When detected, Ferdinand betrayed his associates, and grovelled to his parents. When his father’s abdication was extorted by a popular riot at Aranjuez in March 1808, he ascended the throne—not to lead his people manfully, but to throw himself into the hands of Napoleon, in the fatuous hope that the emperor would support him. He was in his turn forced to make an abdication and imprisoned in France, while Spain, with the help of England, fought for its life. At Valançay, where he was sent as a prisoner of state, he sank contentedly into vulgar vice, and did not scruple to applaud the French victories over the people who were suffering unutterable misery in his cause. When restored in March 1814, on the fall of Napoleon, he had just cause to repudiate the impracticable constitution made by the cortes without his consent. He did so, and then governed like an evil-disposed boy—indulging the merest animal passions, listening to a small camarilla of low-born favourites, changing his ministers every three months, and acting on the impulse of whims which were sometimes mere buffoonery, but were at times lubricous, or ferocious. The autocratic powers of the Grand Alliance, though forced to support him as the representative of legitimacy in Spain, watched his proceedings with disgust and alarm. “The king,” wrote Gentz to the hospodar Caradja on the 1st of December 1814, “himself enters the houses of his first ministers, arrests them, and hands them over to their cruel enemies”; and again, on the 14th of January 1815, “The king has so debased himself that he has become no more than the leading police agent and gaoler of his country.” When at last the inevitable revolt came 268 in 1820 he grovelled to the insurgents as he had done to his parents, descending to the meanest submissions while fear was on him, then intriguing and, when detected, grovelling again. When at the beginning of 1823, as a result of the congress of Verona, the French invaded Spain,1 “invoking the God of St Louis, for the sake of preserving the throne of Spain to a descendant of Henry IV., and of reconciling that fine kingdom with Europe,” and in May the revolutionary party carried Ferdinand to Cadiz, he continued to make promises of amendment till he was free. Then, in violation of his oath to grant an amnesty, he revenged himself for three years of coercion by killing on a scale which revolted his “rescuers,” and against which the duke of Angoulême, powerless to interfere, protested by refusing the Spanish decorations offered him for his services. During his last years Ferdinand’s energy was abated. He no longer changed ministers every few months as a sport, and he allowed some of them to conduct the current business of government. His habits of life were telling on him. He became torpid, bloated and horrible to look at. After his fourth marriage in 1829 with Maria Christina of Naples, he was persuaded by his wife to set aside the law of succession of Philip V., which gave a preference to all the males of the family in Spain over the females. His marriage had brought him only two daughters. When well, he consented to the change under the influence of his wife. When ill, he was terrified by priestly advisers, who were partisans of his brother Don Carlos. What his final decision was is perhaps doubtful. His wife was mistress by his death-bed, and she could put the words she chose into the mouth of a dead man—and could move the dead hand at her will. Ferdinand died on the 29th of September 1833. It had been a frequent saying with the more zealous royalists of Spain that a king must be wiser than his ministers, for he was placed on the throne and directed by God. Since the reign of Ferdinand VII. no one has maintained this unqualified version of the great doctrine of divine right.

FERDINAND VII., king of Spain (1784-1833), the eldest son of Charles IV of Spain and his wife Maria Louisa of Parma, was born at the San Ildefonso palace near Balsain in the Somosierra hills on October 14, 1784. The events surrounding him were numerous, tragic, and of significant European interest. In his youth, he faced the painful situation of being the heir apparent, carefully kept from participating in government due to his parents' jealousy and the influence of a royal favorite. National discontent with a weak government led to a revolution in 1808, resulting in his ascension to the throne after his father's forced abdication. He then spent years as Napoleon's prisoner and returned in 1814 to find that while Spain was fighting for independence in his name, a new world had formed from foreign invasion and domestic revolution. He returned to assert that sovereign authority resided solely in him. Acting on this belief, he ruled irresponsibly, indulging whims. In 1820, his poor governance caused a revolt, and he remained in the hands of insurgents until foreign intervention released him in 1823. Once free, he sought revenge with a brutality that repulsed his allies. In his final years, he attempted to change the order of succession established by his dynasty in Spain, which angered much of the nation and made civil war unavoidable. Ferdinand VII's role in these events, which involved other and better individuals, can confidently be described as consistently base. He arguably had no right to complain about being excluded from government while merely the heir apparent, as this was the tradition of his family. However, as heir to the throne, he had the right to be upset about the degradation of the crown he was to inherit and the influence of a favorite who was his mother’s lover. Had he positioned himself at the forefront of a popular uprising, he would have been supported and had a valid justification. Instead, he engaged in murky intrigues at the prompting of his first wife, Maria Antonietta of Naples. After her death in 1806, he was manipulated into further intrigues by flatterers, and in October 1807, he was arrested for the Escorial conspiracy, which sought Napoleon's assistance. When discovered, Ferdinand betrayed his associates and groveled to his parents. When his father's abdication was forcibly prompted by a popular riot in Aranjuez in March 1808, he took the throne—not to lead his people courageously, but to submit to Napoleon in the misguided hope of support. He was subsequently compelled to abdicate and imprisoned in France while Spain, backed by England, fought for its survival. At Valançay, where he was held as a state prisoner, he sank into vulgar vice and even applauded French victories over the suffering people fighting for him. When restored in March 1814 after Napoleon's downfall, he justifiably rejected the impractical constitution enacted by the cortes without his consent. He did so and then ruled like a spoiled child—indulging base desires, listening to a small group of low-born favorites, changing ministers every three months, and acting on whimsical impulses that ranged from absurdity to depravity. The autocratic powers of the Grand Alliance, though obliged to support him as the legitimate representative in Spain, viewed his actions with disgust and alarm. “The king,” wrote Gentz to the hospodar Caradja on December 1, 1814, “himself enters the houses of his first ministers, arrests them, and hands them over to their cruel enemies”; and again, on January 14, 1815, “The king has so debased himself that he has become no more than the leading police agent and gaoler of his country.” When the inevitable revolt occurred in 1820, he cringed before the insurgents as he had with his parents, making the most humiliating submissions out of fear, then scheming, and when caught, groveling again. In early 1823, as a result of the congress of Verona, the French invaded Spain, invoking the God of St Louis in hopes of preserving the throne for a descendant of Henry IV and reconciling the kingdom with Europe. In May, the revolutionary party brought Ferdinand to Cadiz, and he continued to make promises of reform until he regained his freedom. Then, in violation of his oath to grant an amnesty, he took brutal revenge for three years of coercion, which horrified his "rescuers" and provoked the duke of Angoulême, who, powerless to intervene, protested by refusing Spanish decorations offered for his services. In his later years, Ferdinand’s energy waned. He stopped changing ministers every few months for amusement, allowing some to manage government affairs. His lifestyle took a toll on him; he became lethargic, bloated, and unpleasant to look at. After his fourth marriage in 1829 to Maria Christina of Naples, he was persuaded by his wife to disregard Philip V's succession law, which favored all male heirs over female ones. His marriage produced only two daughters. When healthy, he agreed to the change under his wife's influence. When ill, he was terrified by priestly advisors loyal to his brother Don Carlos. His final decision remains uncertain. His wife was by his deathbed, capable of putting any words she desired into the mouth of a deceased man and manipulating the lifeless hand as she wished. Ferdinand died on September 29, 1833. It was often said among Spain's more zealous royalists that a king must be wiser than his ministers, as he was placed on the throne and guided by God. Since Ferdinand VII's reign, no one has upheld this absolute interpretation of the divine right doctrine.

King Ferdinand VII. kept a diary during the troubled years 1820-1823, which has been published by the count de Casa Valencia.

King Ferdinand VII kept a diary during the difficult years of 1820-1823, which was published by Count de Casa Valencia.


1 Louis XVIII.’s speech from the throne, Jan. 28, 1823.

1 Louis XVIII’s speech from the throne, Jan. 28, 1823.


FERDINAND II. (1810-1859), king of the Two Sicilies, son of Francis I, was born at Palermo on the 12th of January 1810. In his early years he was credited with Liberal ideas and he was fairly popular, his free and easy manners having endeared him to the lazzaroni. On succeeding his father in 1830, he published an edict in which he promised to “give his most anxious attention to the impartial administration of justice,” to reform the finances, and to “use every effort to heal the wounds which had afflicted the kingdom for so many years”; but these promises seem to have been meant only to lull discontent to sleep, for although he did something for the economic development of the kingdom, the existing burden of taxation was only slightly lightened, corruption continued to flourish in all departments of the administration, and an absolutism was finally established harsher than that of all his predecessors, and supported by even more extensive and arbitrary arrests. Ferdinand was naturally shrewd, but badly educated, grossly superstitious and possessed of inordinate self-esteem. Though he kept the machinery of his kingdom fairly efficient, and was a patriot to the extent of brooking no foreign interference, he made little account of the wishes or welfare of his subjects. In 1832 he married Cristina, daughter of Victor Emmanuel I., king of Sardinia, and shortly after her death in 1836 he took for a second wife Maria Theresa, daughter of archduke Charles of Austria. After his Austrian alliance the bonds of despotism were more closely tightened, and the increasing discontent of his subjects was manifested by various abortive attempts at insurrection; in 1837 there was a rising in Sicily in consequence of the outbreak of cholera, and in 1843 the Young Italy Society tried to organize a general rising, which, however, only manifested itself in a series of isolated outbreaks. The expedition of the Bandiera brothers (q.v.) in 1844, although it had no practical result, aroused great ill-feeling owing to the cruel sentences passed on the rebels. In January 1848 a rising in Sicily was the signal for revolutions all over Italy and Europe; it was followed by a movement in Naples, and the king granted a constitution which he swore to observe. A dispute, however, arose as to the nature of the oath which should be taken by the members of the chamber of deputies, and as neither the king nor the deputies would yield, serious disturbances broke out in the streets of Naples on the 15th of May; so the king, making these an excuse for withdrawing his promise, dissolved the national parliament on the 13th of March 1849. He retired to Gaeta to confer with various deposed despots, and when the news of the Austrian victory at Novara (March 1849) reached him, he determined to return to a reactionary policy. Sicily, whence the Royalists had been expelled, was subjugated by General Filangieri (q.v.), and the chief cities were bombarded, an expedient which won for Ferdinand the epithet of “King Bomba.” During the last years of his reign espionage and arbitrary arrests prevented all serious manifestations of discontent among his subjects. In 1851 the political prisoners of Naples were calculated by Mr Gladstone in his letters to Lord Aberdeen (1851) to number 15,000 (probably the real figure was nearer 40,000), and so great was the scandal created by the prevailing reign of terror, and the abominable treatment to which the prisoners were subjected, that in 1856 France and England made diplomatic representations to induce the king to mitigate his rigour and proclaim a general amnesty, but without success. An attempt was made by a soldier to assassinate Ferdinand in 1856. He died on the 22nd of May 1856, just after the declaration of war by France and Piedmont against Austria, which was to result in the collapse of his kingdom and his dynasty. He was bigoted, cruel, mean, treacherous, though not without a certain bonhomie; the only excuse that can be made for him is that with his heredity and education a different result could scarcely be expected.

FERDINAND II. (1810-1859), king of the Two Sicilies, son of Francis I, was born in Palermo on January 12, 1810. In his early years, he was associated with Liberal ideas and was quite popular, as his easygoing nature won him favor with the lazzaroni. After succeeding his father in 1830, he issued an edict promising to “pay close attention to fair justice,” reform the finances, and “make every effort to heal the wounds that have troubled the kingdom for many years”; however, these promises seemed more like a way to quiet unrest. Although he contributed somewhat to the kingdom's economic progress, the tax burden only eased a little, corruption thrived across the administration, and a more severe absolutism was established than under any of his predecessors, supported by widespread and arbitrary arrests. Ferdinand was clever but poorly educated, highly superstitious, and had an inflated sense of self-worth. While he maintained a fairly efficient government and was patriotic enough to reject foreign interference, he largely ignored the wishes and needs of his subjects. In 1832, he married Cristina, the daughter of Victor Emmanuel I, king of Sardinia, and shortly after her death in 1836, he married Maria Theresa, daughter of Archduke Charles of Austria. Following his alliance with Austria, his oppressive rule became tighter, and the growing dissatisfaction among his subjects resulted in several failed uprisings; in 1837, there was a revolt in Sicily due to a cholera outbreak, and in 1843, the Young Italy Society tried to organize a general rebellion, which only resulted in a series of scattered incidents. The expedition of the Bandiera brothers (q.v.) in 1844, while it had no practical outcome, incited significant resentment due to the harsh sentences against the rebels. In January 1848, a revolt in Sicily sparked uprisings across Italy and Europe; this was followed by a movement in Naples, prompting the king to grant a constitution that he swore to uphold. However, a disagreement arose over the type of oath the chamber of deputies should take, and since neither the king nor the deputies would compromise, serious riots erupted in Naples on May 15. The king used these riots as an excuse to retract his promise and dissolved the national parliament on March 13, 1849. He retired to Gaeta to meet with other deposed rulers, and when he learned of the Austrian victory at Novara (March 1849), he decided to adopt a reactionary policy. Sicily, where Royalists had been ousted, was conquered by General Filangieri (q.v.), and major cities were bombarded, which earned Ferdinand the nickname “King Bomba.” In the final years of his reign, spying and arbitrary arrests stifled any serious expressions of discontent among his subjects. In 1851, political prisoners in Naples were estimated by Mr. Gladstone in his letters to Lord Aberdeen (1851) to number 15,000 (though the actual figure was likely closer to 40,000), and the widespread fear and terrible treatment of prisoners led to such a scandal that in 1856, France and England intervened diplomatically to persuade the king to ease his harshness and declare a general amnesty, but to no avail. There was an assassination attempt on Ferdinand by a soldier in 1856. He died on May 22, 1856, just after France and Piedmont declared war on Austria, which would lead to the downfall of his kingdom and dynasty. He was bigoted, cruel, petty, and treacherous, though not entirely lacking in a certain friendliness; the only defense for him is that, given his background and education, a different outcome was unlikely.

See Correspondence respecting the Affairs of Naples and Sicily, 1848-1849, presented to both Houses of Parliament by Command of Her Majesty, 4th May 1849; Two Letters to the Earl of Aberdeen, by the Right Hon. W.E. Gladstone, 1st ed., 1851 (an edition published in 1852 and the subsequent editions contain an Examination of the Official Reply of the Neapolitan Government); N. Nisco, Ferdinando II. il suo regno (Naples, 1884); H. Remsen Whitehouse, The Collapse of the Kingdom of Naples (New York, 1899); R. de Cesare, La Caduta d’ un Regno, vol. i. (Città di Castello, 1900), which contains a great deal of fresh information, but is badly arranged and not always reliable.

See Correspondence concerning the Affairs of Naples and Sicily, 1848-1849, presented to both Houses of Parliament by Command of Her Majesty, May 4, 1849; Two Letters to the Earl of Aberdeen, by the Right Hon. W.E. Gladstone, 1st ed., 1851 (an edition published in 1852 and the subsequent editions include an Examination of the Official Reply of the Neapolitan Government); N. Nisco, Ferdinando II. il suo regno (Naples, 1884); H. Remsen Whitehouse, The Collapse of the Kingdom of Naples (New York, 1899); R. de Cesare, La Caduta d’ un Regno, vol. i. (Città di Castello, 1900), which contains a lot of new information but is poorly organized and not always trustworthy.

(L. V.*)

FERDINAND III. (1769-1824), grand duke of Tuscany, and archduke of Austria, second son of the emperor Leopold II., was born on the 6th of May 1769. On his father becoming emperor in 1790, he succeeded him as grand duke of Tuscany. Ferdinand was one of the first sovereigns to enter into diplomatic relations with the French republic (1793); and although, a few months later, he was compelled by England and Russia to join the coalition against France, he concluded peace with that power in 1795, and by observing a strict neutrality saved his dominions from invasion by the French, except for a temporary occupation of Livorno, till 1799, when he was compelled to vacate his throne, and a provisional Republican government was established at Florence. Shortly afterwards the French arms suffered severe reverses in Italy, and Ferdinand was restored to his territories; but in 1801, by the peace of Lunéville, Tuscany was converted into the kingdom of Etruria, and he was again compelled to return to Vienna. In lieu of the sovereignty of Tuscany, he obtained in 1802 the electorship of Salzburg, which he exchanged by the peace of Pressburg in 1805 for that of Würzburg. In 1806 he was admitted as grand duke of Würzburg to the confederation of the Rhine. He was restored to the throne of Tuscany after the abdication of Napoleon in 1814 and was received with enthusiasm by the people, but had again to vacate his capital for a short time in 1815, when Murat proclaimed war against Austria. The final overthrow of the French supremacy at the battle of Waterloo secured him, however, in the undisturbed possession of his grand duchy during the remainder of his life. The restoration in Tuscany was not accompanied by the reactionary excesses which characterized it elsewhere, and a large part of the French legislation was retained. His prime minister was Count V. Fossombroni (q.v.). The mild rule of Ferdinand, his solicitude for the welfare of his subjects, 269 his enlightened patronage of art and science, his encouragement of commerce, and his toleration render him an honourable exception to the generality of Italian princes. At the same time his paternal despotism tended to emasculate the Tuscan character. He died in June 1824, and was succeeded by his son Leopold II. (q.v.).

FERDINAND III. (1769-1824), Grand Duke of Tuscany and Archduke of Austria, the second son of Emperor Leopold II, was born on May 6, 1769. When his father became emperor in 1790, Ferdinand succeeded him as Grand Duke of Tuscany. He was one of the first rulers to establish diplomatic relations with the French Republic in 1793; however, a few months later, he was forced by England and Russia to join the coalition against France. He made peace with France in 1795, and by maintaining strict neutrality, he protected his territories from invasion by the French, except for a brief occupation of Livorno until 1799, when he was forced to leave his throne and a provisional Republican government was set up in Florence. Shortly afterward, the French faced significant defeats in Italy, and Ferdinand was restored to his lands; but in 1801, following the Treaty of Lunéville, Tuscany was turned into the Kingdom of Etruria, and he was once again compelled to return to Vienna. Instead of ruling Tuscany, in 1802 he received the Electorate of Salzburg, which he exchanged for the Electorate of Würzburg at the Treaty of Pressburg in 1805. In 1806, he joined the Confederation of the Rhine as Grand Duke of Würzburg. After Napoleon abdicated in 1814, he regained the throne of Tuscany and was warmly welcomed by the people, but he had to temporarily leave his capital in 1815 when Murat declared war against Austria. The final defeat of French dominance at the Battle of Waterloo secured his rightful tenure of his Grand Duchy for the rest of his life. The restoration in Tuscany did not lead to the reactionary extremes seen elsewhere, and a significant portion of the French laws remained in place. His prime minister was Count V. Fossombroni (q.v.). Ferdinand's gentle governance, concern for his people's well-being, support for art and science, promotion of commerce, and tolerance made him a notable exception among Italian princes. However, his paternalistic rule also weakened the Tuscan spirit. He passed away in June 1824 and was succeeded by his son Leopold II. (q.v.).

Bibliography.—A. von Reumont, Geschichte Toscanas (Gotha, 1877); and “Federico Manfredini e la politica Toscana nei primi anni di Ferdinando III.” (in the Archivio Storico Italiano, 1877); Emmer, Erzherzog Ferdinand III., Grossherzog von Toskana (Salzburg, 1871); C. Tivaroni, L’ Italia durante il dominio francese, ii. 1-44 (Turin, 1889), and L’ Italia durante il dominio austriaco, ii. 1-18 (Turin, 1893). See also under Fossombroni; Vittorio; and Capponi, Gino.

References.—A. von Reumont, History of Tuscany (Gotha, 1877); and “Federico Manfredini and Tuscan Politics in the Early Years of Ferdinand III.” (in the Italian Historical Archive, 1877); Emmer, Archduke Ferdinand III., Grand Duke of Tuscany (Salzburg, 1871); C. Tivaroni, Italy During French Rule, ii. 1-44 (Turin, 1889), and Italy During Austrian Rule, ii. 1-18 (Turin, 1893). See also under Fossombroni; Vittorio; and Capponi, Gino.


FERDINAND, MAXIMILIAN KARL LEOPOLD MARIA, king of Bulgaria (1861-  ), fifth and youngest son of Prince Augustus of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, was born on the 26th of February 1861. Great care was exercised in his education, and every encouragement given to the taste for natural history which he exhibited at an early age. In 1879 he travelled with his brother Augustus to Brazil, and the results of their botanical observations were published at Vienna, 1883-1888, under the title of Itinera Principum S. Coburgi. Having been appointed to a lieutenancy in the 2nd regiment of Austrian hussars, he was holding this rank when, by unanimous vote of the National Assembly, he was elected prince of Bulgaria, on the 7th of July 1887, in succession to Prince Alexander, who had abdicated on the 7th of September preceding. He assumed the government on the 14th of August 1887, for Russia for a long time refused to acknowledge the election, and he was accordingly exposed to frequent military conspiracies, due to the influence or attitude of that power. The firmness and vigour with which he met all attempts at revolution were at length rewarded, and his election was confirmed in March 1896 by the Porte and the great powers. On the 20th of April 1893 he married Marie Louise de Bourbon (d. 1899), eldest daughter of Duke Robert of Parma, and in May following the Grand Sobranye confirmed the title of Royal Highness to the prince and his heir. The prince adhered to the Roman Catholic faith, but his son and heir, the young Prince Boris, was received into the Orthodox Greek Church on the 14th of February 1896. Prince Boris, to whom the tsar Nicholas III. became godfather, accompanied his father to Russia in 1898, when Prince Ferdinand visited St Petersburg and Moscow, and still further strengthened the bond already existing between Russia and Bulgaria. In 1908 Ferdinand married Eleanor (b. 1860), a princess of the house of Reuss. Later in the year, in connexion with the Austrian annexation of Bosnia-Herzegovina and the crisis with Turkey, he proclaimed the independence of Bulgaria, and took the title of king or tsar. (See Bulgaria, and Europe: History.)

FERDINAND, MAXIMILIAN KARL LEOPOLD MARIA, king of Bulgaria (1861-  ), was born on February 26, 1861, as the fifth and youngest son of Prince Augustus of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha. His education was given great attention, and he was encouraged to pursue his early interest in natural history. In 1879, he traveled to Brazil with his brother Augustus, and their botanical findings were published in Vienna from 1883 to 1888 under the title Itinera Principum S. Coburgi. After being appointed a lieutenant in the 2nd regiment of Austrian hussars, he was holding that position when, on July 7, 1887, he was elected prince of Bulgaria by a unanimous vote of the National Assembly, succeeding Prince Alexander, who had abdicated on the previous September 7. He officially took over the government on August 14, 1887, though Russia was slow to recognize his election, leading to many military conspiracies due to that country's influence or stance. His determination and strength in facing these revolutionary attempts eventually paid off, and in March 1896, both the Porte and the great powers confirmed his election. On April 20, 1893, he married Marie Louise de Bourbon (d. 1899), the eldest daughter of Duke Robert of Parma, and the Grand Sobranye subsequently confirmed the title of Royal Highness for him and his heir in May. Although the prince was a Roman Catholic, his son and heir, the young Prince Boris, was received into the Orthodox Greek Church on February 14, 1896. Prince Boris, whose godfather was Tsar Nicholas III, joined his father on a visit to Russia in 1898, further strengthening the ties between Russia and Bulgaria. In 1908, Ferdinand married Eleanor (b. 1860), a princess from the house of Reuss. Later that year, in connection with the Austrian annexation of Bosnia-Herzegovina and the crisis with Turkey, he declared Bulgaria's independence and took the title of king or tsar. (See Bulgaria, and Europe: History.)


FERDINAND, duke of Brunswick (1721-1792), Prussian general field marshal, was the fourth son of Ferdinand Albert, duke of Brunswick, and was born at Wolfenbüttel on the 12th of January 1721. He was carefully educated with a view to a military career, and in his twentieth year he was made chief of a newly-raised Brunswick regiment in the Prussian service. He was present in the battles of Mollwitz and Chotusitz. In succession to Margrave Wilhelm of Brandenburg, killed at Prague (1744), Ferdinand received the command of Frederick the Great’s Leibgarde battalion, and at Sohr (1745) he distinguished himself so greatly at the head of his brigade that Frederick wrote of him, “le Prince Ferdinand s’est surpassé.” The height which he captured was defended by his brother Ludwig as an officer of the Austrian service, and another brother of Duke Ferdinand was killed by his side in the charge. During the ten years’ peace he was in the closest touch with the military work of Frederick the Great, who supervised the instruction of the guard battalion, and sought to make it a model of the whole Prussian army. Ferdinand was, moreover, one of the most intimate friends of the king, and thus he was peculiarly fitted for the tasks which afterwards fell to his lot. In this time he became successively major-general and lieutenant-general. In the first campaign of the Seven Years’ War Ferdinand commanded one of the Prussian columns which converged upon Dresden, and in the operations which led up to the surrender of the Saxon army at Pirna (1756), and at the battle of Lobositz, he led the right wing of the Prussian infantry. In 1757 he was present, and distinguished himself, at Prague, and he served also in the campaign of Rossbach. Shortly after this he was appointed to command the allied forces which were being organized for the war in western Germany. He found this army dejected by a reverse and a capitulation, yet within a week of his taking up the command he assumed the offensive, and thus began the career of victory which made his European reputation as a soldier. His conduct of the five campaigns which followed (see Seven Years’ War) was naturally influenced by the teachings of Frederick, whose pupil the duke had been for so many years. Ferdinand, indeed, approximated more closely to Frederick in his method of making war than any other general of the time. Yet his task was in many respects far more difficult than that of the king. Frederick was the absolute master of his own homogeneous army, Ferdinand merely the commander of a group of contingents, and answerable to several princes for the troops placed under his control. The French were by no means despicable opponents in the field, and their leaders, if not of the first grade, were cool and experienced veterans. In 1758 he fought and won the battle of Crefeld, several marches beyond the Rhine, but so advanced a position he could not well maintain, and he fell back to the Lippe. He resumed a bold offensive in 1759, only to be repulsed at Bergen (near Frankfort-on-Main). On the 1st of August of this year Ferdinand won the brilliant victory of Minden (q.v.). Vellinghausen, Wilhelmsthal, Warburg and other victories attested the increasing power of Ferdinand in the following campaigns, and Frederick, hard pressed in the eastern theatre of war, owed much of his success in an almost hopeless task to the continued pressure exerted by Ferdinand in the west. In promoting him to be a field marshal (November 1758) Frederick acknowledged his debt in the words, “Je n’ai fait que ce que je dois, mon cher Ferdinand.” After Minden, King George II. gave the duke the order of the Garter, and the thanks of the British parliament were voted on the same occasion to the “Victor of Minden.” After the war he was honoured by other sovereigns, and he received the rank of field marshal and a regiment from the Austrians. During the War of American Independence there was a suggestion, which came to nothing, of offering him the command of the British forces. He exerted himself to compensate those who had suffered by the Seven Years’ War, devoting to this purpose most of the small income he received from his various offices and the rewards given to him by the allied princes. The estrangement of Frederick and Ferdinand in 1766 led to the duke’s retirement from Prussian service, but there was no open breach between the old friends, and Ferdinand visited the king in 1772, 1777, 1779 and 1782. After 1766 he passed the remainder of his life at his castle of Veschelde, where he occupied himself in building and other improvements, and became a patron of learning and art, and a great benefactor of the poor. He died on the 3rd of July 1792. The merits, civil and military, of the prince were recognized by memorials not only in Prussia and Hanover, but also in Denmark, the states of western Germany and England. The Prussian memorials include an equestrian statue at Berlin (1863).

FERDINAND, duke of Brunswick (1721-1792), was a Prussian general field marshal and the fourth son of Ferdinand Albert, duke of Brunswick. He was born in Wolfenbüttel on January 12, 1721. He received a careful education aimed at preparing him for a military career, and by the age of twenty, he had become the chief of a newly-formed Brunswick regiment in the Prussian army. He fought in the battles of Mollwitz and Chotusitz. Following the death of Margrave Wilhelm of Brandenburg at Prague (1744), Ferdinand took command of Frederick the Great’s Leibgarde battalion, and at Sohr (1745), he greatly distinguished himself while leading his brigade, prompting Frederick to commend him with the words, “le Prince Ferdinand s’est surpassé.” The height he captured was defended by his brother Ludwig, who was an officer in the Austrian army, and another brother of Duke Ferdinand was killed alongside him during the charge. Throughout the ten years of peace, he worked closely with Frederick the Great on military matters, as Frederick supervised the training of the guard battalion, striving to make it a model for the entire Prussian army. Ferdinand was also one of the king’s closest friends, making him especially suited for the responsibilities that would later come his way. During this time, he climbed the ranks to major-general and lieutenant-general. In the first campaign of the Seven Years' War, Ferdinand led one of the Prussian columns moving toward Dresden and commanded the right wing of the Prussian infantry during the operations culminating in the surrender of the Saxon army at Pirna (1756) and the battle of Lobositz. In 1757, he was present at Prague and made a name for himself, also serving in the Rossbach campaign. Soon after, he was appointed to lead the allied forces preparing for war in western Germany. He found this army demoralized following a defeat and capitulation, but he took the initiative within a week of assuming command, kicking off a series of victories that established his reputation across Europe as a soldier. His approach during the five following campaigns (see Seven Years’ War) was heavily influenced by Frederick’s teachings, as Ferdinand had been a student of the king for many years. In fact, Ferdinand's method of warfare closely mirrored Frederick’s more than any other general of that period. However, his task was significantly more challenging than the king's. Frederick had total control over his uniform army, while Ferdinand only commanded a collection of contingents, accountable to several princes for the troops under his command. The French were formidable opponents, and their leaders, although not at the highest caliber, were seasoned and experienced. In 1758, he fought and won the battle of Crefeld, several marches past the Rhine, but could not maintain that advanced position and fell back to the Lippe. He launched a bold offensive again in 1759, only to be repelled at Bergen (near Frankfurt-on-Main). On August 1 of that year, Ferdinand achieved the notable victory of Minden (q.v.). His victories in Vellinghausen, Wilhelmsthal, Warburg, and others in subsequent campaigns demonstrated Ferdinand's growing power, and Frederick, facing pressure in the eastern front, owed much of his success in a nearly impossible situation to Ferdinand's continuous efforts in the west. Promoting him to field marshal in November 1758, Frederick acknowledged his contributions with, “Je n’ai fait que ce que je dois, mon cher Ferdinand.” After the victory at Minden, King George II awarded the duke the order of the Garter, while the British Parliament extended thanks to the “Victor of Minden.” After the war, he received honors from other sovereigns, attaining the rank of field marshal and a regiment from the Austrians. During the American War of Independence, there was an unsuccessful suggestion to appoint him as the commander of British forces. He worked diligently to assist those affected by the Seven Years' War, dedicating most of his limited income from his roles and rewards given by the allied princes to this cause. The falling out between Frederick and Ferdinand in 1766 led to the duke's retirement from Prussian service, but there was no outright conflict between the old friends, and Ferdinand visited the king in 1772, 1777, 1779, and 1782. After 1766, he spent the rest of his life at his castle in Veschelde, focusing on construction and improvements, and becoming a patron of education and the arts, while also being a significant benefactor to the poor. He passed away on July 3, 1792. His civil and military contributions were recognized with memorials not only in Prussia and Hanover but also in Denmark, western Germany, and England. The Prussian memorials include an equestrian statue in Berlin (1863).

See E. v. L. Knesebeck, Ferdinand, Herzog von Braunschweig und Lüneburg, während des Siebenjährigen Kriegs (2 vols., Hanover, 1857-1858); Von Westphalen, Geschichte der Feldzüge des Herzogs Ferdinands von Braunschweig-Lüneburg (5 vols., Berlin, 1859-1872); v. d. Osten, Tagebuch des Herzogl. Gen. Adjutanten v. Reden (Hamburg, 1805); v. Schafer, Vie militaire du maréchal Prince Ferdinand (Magdeburg, 1796; Nuremberg, 1798); also the Œuvres of Frederick the Great, passim, and authorities for the Seven Years’ War.

See E. v. L. Knesebeck, Ferdinand, Duke of Brunswick and Lüneburg, during the Seven Years' War (2 vols., Hanover, 1857-1858); Von Westphalen, History of the Campaigns of Duke Ferdinand of Brunswick-Lüneburg (5 vols., Berlin, 1859-1872); v. d. Osten, Diary of the Ducal General Adjutant v. Reden (Hamburg, 1805); v. Schafer, Military Life of Marshal Prince Ferdinand (Magdeburg, 1796; Nuremberg, 1798); also the Works of Frederick the Great, passim, and authorities for the Seven Years’ War.


FERDINAND (1577-1650), elector and archbishop of Cologne, son of William V., duke of Bavaria, was born on the 7th of October 1577. Intended for the church, he was educated by the Jesuits at the university of Ingolstadt, and in 1595 became coadjutor archbishop of Cologne. He became elector and archbishop in 1612 on the death of his uncle Ernest, whom he also succeeded as bishop of Liége, Munster and Hildesheim. He 270 endeavoured resolutely to root out heresy in the lands under his rule, and favoured the teaching of the Jesuits in every possible way. He supported the league founded by his brother Maximilian I., duke of Bavaria, and wished to involve the leaguers in a general attack on the Protestants of north Germany. The cool political sagacity of the duke formed a sharp contrast to the impetuosity of the archbishop, and he refused to accede to his brother’s wish; but, in spite of these temporary differences, Ferdinand sent troops and money to the assistance of the league when the Thirty Years’ War broke out in 1619. The elector’s alliance with the Spaniards secured his territories to a great extent from the depredations of the war until the arrival of the Swedes in Germany in 1630, when the extension of the area of the struggle to the neighbourhood of Cologne induced him to enter into negotiations for peace. Nothing came of these attempts until 1647, when he joined his brother Maximilian in concluding an armistice with France and Sweden at Ulm. The elector’s later years were marked by a conflict with the citizens of Liége; and when the peace of Westphalia freed him from his enemies, he was able to crush the citizens and deprive them of many privileges. Ferdinand, who had held the bishopric of Paderborn since 1618, died at Arnsberg on the 13th of September 1650, and was buried in the cathedral at Cologne.

FERDINAND (1577-1650), elector and archbishop of Cologne, son of William V, duke of Bavaria, was born on October 7, 1577. Aimed for a career in the church, he was educated by the Jesuits at the University of Ingolstadt, and in 1595 he became coadjutor archbishop of Cologne. He became elector and archbishop in 1612 after the death of his uncle Ernest, whom he also succeeded as bishop of Liège, Munster, and Hildesheim. He 270 focused strongly on eliminating heresy in the territories he governed and supported Jesuit teachings in every way possible. He backed the league established by his brother Maximilian I, duke of Bavaria, and wanted to involve the league in a concerted attack on the Protestant regions of northern Germany. The cool political judgment of the duke sharply contrasted with the impulsiveness of the archbishop, leading him to reject his brother’s demands; however, despite these temporary disagreements, Ferdinand provided troops and funding to assist the league when the Thirty Years’ War began in 1619. The elector’s alliance with the Spaniards largely protected his territories from the ravages of war until the Swedes arrived in Germany in 1630, prompting him to seek peace negotiations as the conflict expanded to the area around Cologne. These attempts at peace were unsuccessful until 1647, when he joined his brother Maximilian in signing an armistice with France and Sweden at Ulm. Ferdinand’s later years were marked by a clash with the citizens of Liège; and when the Peace of Westphalia freed him from his enemies, he was able to overpower the citizens and strip them of many privileges. Ferdinand, who had held the bishopric of Paderborn since 1618, died in Arnsberg on September 13, 1650, and was buried in the cathedral in Cologne.

See L. Ennen, Frankreich und der Niederrhein oder Geschichte von Stadt und Kurstadt Köln seit dem 30 jährigen Kriege, Band i. (Cologne, 1855-1856).

See L. Ennen, France and the Lower Rhine or History of the City and Spa City of Cologne since the Thirty Years' War, Volume 1. (Cologne, 1855-1856).


FERENTINO (anc. Ferentinum, to be distinguished from Ferentum or Ferentinum in Etruria), a town and episcopal see of Italy, in the province of Rome, from which it is 48 m. E.S.E. by rail. Pop. (1901) 7957 (town), 12,279 (commune). It is picturesquely situated on a hill 1290 ft. above sea-level, and still possesses considerable remains of ancient fortifications. The lower portion of the outer walls, which probably did not stand free, is built of roughly hewn blocks of a limestone which naturally splits into horizontal layers; above this in places is walling of rectangular blocks of tufa. Two gates, the Porta Sanguinaria (with an arch with tufa voussoirs), and the Porta S. Maria, a double gate constructed entirely of rectangular blocks of tufa, are preserved. Outside this gate is the tomb of A. Quinctilius Priscus, a citizen of Ferentinum, with a long inscription cut in the rock. See Th. Mommsen in Corp. Inscrip. Lat. x. (Berlin, 1883), No. 5853.

FERENTINO (formerly Ferentinum, distinct from Ferentum or Ferentinum in Etruria), is a town and an episcopal see in Italy, located in the province of Rome, about 48 miles southeast by rail. The population was (1901) 7,957 (town), 12,279 (commune). It is beautifully situated on a hill 1,290 feet above sea level and still has significant remnants of ancient fortifications. The lower part of the outer walls, which likely weren't exposed, is made of roughly cut limestone blocks that naturally break into horizontal layers; above this in certain areas are walls made of rectangular blocks of tufa. Two gates are still preserved: the Porta Sanguinaria (which features an arch with tufa voussoirs) and the Porta S. Maria, a double gate made entirely of rectangular tufa blocks. Outside this gate lies the tomb of A. Quinctilius Priscus, a citizen of Ferentinum, with a long inscription carved into the rock. See Th. Mommsen in Corp. Inscrip. Lat. x. (Berlin, 1883), No. 5853.

The highest part of the town, the acropolis, is fortified also; it has massive retaining walls similar to those of the lower town. At the eastern corner, under the present episcopal palace, the construction is somewhat more careful. A projecting rectangular terrace has been erected, supported by walls of quadrilateral blocks of limestone arranged almost horizontally; while upon the level thus formed a building of rectangular blocks of local travertine was raised. The projecting cornice of this building bears two inscriptions of the period of Sulla, recording its construction by two censors (local officials); and in the interior, which contains several chambers, there is an inscription of the same censors over one of the doors, and another over a smaller external side door. The windows lighting these chambers come immediately above the cornice, and the wall continues above them again. The whole of this construction probably belongs to one period (Mommsen, op. cit. No. 5837 seq.). The cathedral occupies a part of the level top of the ancient acropolis; it was reconstructed on the site of an older church in 1099-1118; the interior was modernized in 1693, but was restored to its original form in 1902. It contains a fine canopy in the “Cosmatesque” style (see Relazione dei lavori eseguiti dall’ ufficio tecnico per la conservazione dei monumenti di Rome a provincia, Rome, 1903, 175 seq.). The Gothic church of S. Maria Maggiore, in the lower town (13th-14th century), has a very fine exterior; the interior, the plan of which is a perfect rectangle, has been spoilt by restoration. There are several other Gothic churches in the town.

The highest part of the town, the acropolis, is also fortified; it has massive retaining walls similar to those of the lower town. In the eastern corner, beneath the current episcopal palace, the construction is a bit more careful. A projecting rectangular terrace has been built, supported by walls made of rectangular blocks of limestone arranged almost horizontally; on the level created, a building made of rectangular blocks of local travertine was constructed. The projecting cornice of this building has two inscriptions from the time of Sulla, noting its construction by two censors (local officials); inside, which has several rooms, there's an inscription from the same censors above one of the doors and another over a smaller external side door. The windows that light these rooms are right above the cornice, and the wall continues above them. This entire construction likely belongs to one period (Mommsen, op. cit. No. 5837 seq.). The cathedral occupies part of the flat top of the ancient acropolis; it was rebuilt on the site of an older church between 1099-1118; the interior was modernized in 1693 but restored to its original style in 1902. It features a beautiful canopy in the “Cosmatesque” style (see Relazione dei lavori eseguiti dall’ ufficio tecnico per la conservazione dei monumenti di Rome a provincia, Rome, 1903, 175 seq.). The Gothic church of S. Maria Maggiore, in the lower town (13th-14th century), has a stunning exterior; however, the interior, designed as a perfect rectangle, has been damaged by restoration. There are several other Gothic churches in the town.

Ferentinum was the chief town of the Hernici; it was captured from them by the Romans in 364 B.C. and took no part in the rising of 306 B.C. The inhabitants became Roman citizens after 195 B.C., and the place later became a municipium. It lay just above the Via Latina and, being a strong place, served for the detention of hostages. Horace praises its quietness, and it does not appear much in later history.

Ferentinum was the main town of the Hernici; the Romans took it from them in 364 B.C. and it didn’t participate in the uprising of 306 BCE. The residents gained Roman citizenship after 195 BCE, and the town later became a municipium. It was located just above the Via Latina and, being a fortified place, was used to hold hostages. Horace praises its peacefulness, and it doesn’t feature much in later history.

(T. As.)

See further Ashby, Röm. Mittell. xxiv. (1909).

See further Ashby, Röm. Mittell. 24 (1909).


FERENTUM, or Ferentinum, an ancient town of Etruria, about 6 m. N. of Viterbo (the ancient name of which is unknown) and 3½ m. E. of the Via Cassia. It was the birthplace (32 A.D.) of the emperor Otho, was destroyed in the 11th century, and is now entirely deserted, though it retains its ancient name. It occupied a ridge running from east to west, with deep ravines on three sides. There are some remains of the city walls, and of various Roman structures, but the most important ruin is that of the theatre. The stage front is still standing; it is pierced by seven openings with flat arches, and shows traces of reconstruction. The acropolis was on the hill called Talone on the north-east.

FERENTUM, or Ferentinum, an ancient town in Etruria, about 6 miles north of Viterbo (the original name is unknown) and 3.5 miles east of the Via Cassia. It was the birthplace (32 CE) of Emperor Otho, was destroyed in the 11th century, and is now completely abandoned, although it still keeps its ancient name. It was situated on a ridge running from east to west, with deep ravines on three sides. There are some remains of the city walls and various Roman structures, but the most significant ruin is that of the theatre. The stage front is still standing; it has seven openings with flat arches and shows signs of being rebuilt. The acropolis was on the hill known as Talone to the northeast.

See G. Dennis, Cities and Cemeteries of Etruria (London, 1883), i. 156; Notizie degli scavi, 1900, 401; 1902, 84; 1905, 31.

See G. Dennis, Cities and Cemeteries of Etruria (London, 1883), i. 156; Notizie degli scavi, 1900, 401; 1902, 84; 1905, 31.


FERETORY (from Lat. feretrum, a bier, from ferre, to bear), in architecture, the enclosure or chapel within which the “fereter” shrine, or tomb (as in Henry VII.’s chapel), was placed.

FERETORY (from Lat. feretrum, a bier, from ferre, to bear), in architecture, refers to the area or chapel where the “fereter” shrine or tomb (like in Henry VII’s chapel) was located.


FERGHANA, or Fergana, a province of Russian Turkestan, formed in 1876 out of the former khanate of Khokand. It is bounded by the provinces of Syr-darya on the N. and N.W., Samarkand on the W., and Semiryechensk on the N.E., by Chinese Turkestan (Kashgaria) on the E., and by Bokhara and Afghanistan on the S. Its southern limits, on the Pamirs, were fixed by an Anglo-Russian commission in 1885, from Zor-kul (Victoria Lake) to the Chinese frontier; and Shignan, Roshan and Wakhan were assigned to Bokhara in exchange for part of Darvaz (on the left bank of the Panj), which was given to Afghanistan. The area amounts to some 53,000 sq. m., of which 17,600 sq. m. are on the Pamirs. The most important part of the province is a rich and fertile valley (1200-1500 ft.), opening towards the S.W. Thence the province stretches northwards across the mountains of the Tian-shan system and southwards across the Alai and Trans-Alai Mts., which reach their highest point in Peak Kaufmann (23,000 ft.), in the latter range. The valley owes its fertility to two rivers, the Naryn and the Karadarya, which unite within its confines, near Namangan, to form the Syr-darya or Jaxartes. These streams, and their numerous mountain affluents, not only supply water for irrigation, but also bring down vast quantities of sand, which is deposited alongside their courses, more especially alongside the Syr-darya where it cuts its way through the Khojent-Ajar ridge, forming there the Karakchikum. This expanse of moving sands, covering an area of 750 sq. m., under the influence of south-west winds, encroaches upon the agricultural districts. The climate of this valley is dry and warm. In March the temperature reaches 68° F., and then rapidly rises to 95° in June, July and August. During the five months following April no rain falls, but it begins again in October. Snow and frost (down to −4° F.) occur in December and January.

FERGHANA, or Fergana Valley, a province of Russian Turkestan, was established in 1876 from the former khanate of Khokand. It borders the provinces of Syr-darya to the north and northwest, Samarkand to the west, and Semiryechensk to the northeast, with Chinese Turkestan (Kashgaria) to the east and Bokhara and Afghanistan to the south. Its southern boundary, on the Pamirs, was set by an Anglo-Russian commission in 1885, stretching from Zor-kul (Victoria Lake) to the Chinese border; Shignan, Roshan, and Wakhan were assigned to Bokhara in exchange for part of Darvaz (on the left bank of the Panj), which was given to Afghanistan. The total area is about 53,000 sq. miles, with 17,600 sq. miles on the Pamirs. The most significant part of the province is a rich and fertile valley (1200-1500 ft.), which opens towards the southwest. From there, the province extends northward across the Tian-shan mountain range and southward across the Alai and Trans-Alai Mountains, which reach their highest point at Peak Kaufmann (23,000 ft.) in the latter range. The valley's fertility is due to two rivers, the Naryn and the Karadarya, which merge within the valley near Namangan to form the Syr-darya or Jaxartes. These rivers, along with their many mountain tributaries, not only provide irrigation water but also carry large amounts of sand that settle along their banks, particularly where the Syr-darya carves through the Khojent-Ajar ridge, creating the Karakchikum. This area of moving sands covers about 750 sq. miles and, influenced by southwest winds, encroaches on agricultural lands. The valley's climate is dry and warm. In March, temperatures reach 68°F and quickly rise to 95°F in June, July, and August. There is no rain during the five months following April, but it resumes in October. Snow and frost (down to -4°F) occur in December and January.

Out of some 3,000,000 acres of cultivated land, about two-thirds are under constant irrigation and the remaining third under partial irrigation. The soil is admirably cultivated, the principal crops being wheat, rice, barley, maize, millet, lucerne, tobacco, vegetables and fruit. Gardening is conducted with a high degree of skill and success. Large numbers of horses, cattle and sheep are kept, and a good many camels are bred. Over 17,000 acres are planted with vines, and some 350,000 acres are under cotton. Nearly 1,000,000 acres are covered with forests. The government maintains a forestry farm at Marghelan, from which 120,000 to 200,000 young trees are distributed free every year amongst the inhabitants of the province.

Out of approximately 3,000,000 acres of farmland, about two-thirds are consistently irrigated, while the remaining third has partial irrigation. The soil is well-tended, with the main crops being wheat, rice, barley, corn, millet, alfalfa, tobacco, vegetables, and fruits. Gardening is done with great skill and success. A large number of horses, cattle, and sheep are raised, and quite a few camels are bred as well. Over 17,000 acres are dedicated to vineyards, and around 350,000 acres are used for cotton. Nearly 1,000,000 acres are covered in forests. The government operates a forestry farm in Marghelan, from which 120,000 to 200,000 young trees are given away for free each year to the local residents.

Silkworm breeding, formerly a prosperous industry, has decayed, despite the encouragement of a state farm at New Marghelan. Coal, iron, sulphur, gypsum, rock-salt, lacustrine salt and naphtha are all known to exist, but only the last two are extracted. Some seventy or eighty factories are engaged in cotton cleaning; while leather, saddlery, paper and cutlery 271 are the principal products of the domestic industries. A considerable trade is carried on with Russia; raw cotton, raw silk, tobacco, hides, sheepskins, fruit and cotton and leather goods are exported, and manufactured wares, textiles, tea and sugar are imported and in part re-exported to Kashgaria and Bokhara. The total trade of Ferghana reaches an annual value of nearly £3,500,000. A new impulse was given to trade by the extension (1899) of the Transcaspian railway into Ferghana and by the opening of the Orenburg-Tashkent railway (1906). The routes to Kashgaria and the Pamirs are mere bridle-paths over the mountains, crossing them by lofty passes. For instance, the passes of Kara-kazyk (14,400 ft.) and Tenghiz-bai (11,200 ft.), both passable all the year round, lead from Marghelan to Kara-teghin and the Pamirs, while Kashgar is reached via Osh and Gulcha, and then over the passes of Terek-davan (12,205 ft.; open all the year round), Taldyk (11,500 ft.), Archat (11,600 ft.), and Shart-davan (14,000 ft.). Other passes leading out of the valley are the Jiptyk (12,460 ft.), S. of Khokand; the Isfairam (12,000 ft.), leading to the glen of the Surkhab, and the Kavuk (13,000 ft.), across the Alai Mts.

Silkworm breeding, once a thriving industry, has declined, despite the support from a state farm in New Marghelan. Coal, iron, sulfur, gypsum, rock salt, lake salt, and naphtha are all known to be present, but only the last two are currently extracted. Around seventy or eighty factories are involved in cotton cleaning, while leather, saddlery, paper, and cutlery are the main products of domestic industries. There is significant trade with Russia; raw cotton, raw silk, tobacco, hides, sheepskins, fruit, and cotton and leather goods are exported, while manufactured items, textiles, tea, and sugar are imported and partially re-exported to Kashgaria and Bokhara. The total trade in Ferghana has an annual value of nearly £3,500,000. Trade got a boost from the extension (1899) of the Transcaspian railway into Ferghana and the opening of the Orenburg-Tashkent railway (1906). The routes to Kashgaria and the Pamirs are just narrow paths over the mountains, using high passes. For example, the passes of Kara-kazyk (14,400 ft.) and Tenghiz-bai (11,200 ft.), which are accessible year-round, connect Marghelan to Kara-teghin and the Pamirs, while Kashgar can be accessed via Osh and Gulcha, then over the passes of Terek-davan (12,205 ft.; open all year), Taldyk (11,500 ft.), Archat (11,600 ft.), and Shart-davan (14,000 ft.). Other passes out of the valley include Jiptyk (12,460 ft.), south of Khokand; Isfairam (12,000 ft.), leading to the Surkhab valley; and Kavuk (13,000 ft.), across the Alai Mountains.

The population numbered 1,571,243 in 1897, and of that number 707,132 were women and 286,369 were urban. In 1906 it was estimated at 1,796,500. Two-thirds of the total are Sarts and Uzbegs (of Turkic origin). They live mostly in the valley; while the mountain slopes above it are occupied by Kirghiz, partly nomad and pastoral, partly agricultural and settled. The other races are Tajiks, Kashgarians, Kipchaks, Jews and Gypsies. The governing classes are of course Russians, who constitute also the merchant and artizan classes. But the merchants of West Turkestan are called all over central Asia Andijanis, from the town of Andijan in Ferghana. The great mass of the population are Mussulmans (1,039,115 in 1897). The province is divided into five districts, the chief towns of which are New Marghelan, capital of the province (8977 inhabitants in 1897), Andijan (49,682 in 1900), Khokand (86,704 in 1900), Namangan (61,906 in 1897), and Osh (37,397 in 1900); but Old Marghelan (42,855 in 1900) and Chust (13,686 in 1897) are also towns of importance. For the history, see Khokand.

The population was 1,571,243 in 1897, including 707,132 women and 286,369 living in urban areas. By 1906, it was estimated to be around 1,796,500. About two-thirds of the total population are Sarts and Uzbeks (of Turkic origin). They primarily reside in the valley, while the mountain slopes above are inhabited by Kirghiz, who are partly nomadic and pastoral, and partly agricultural and settled. Other groups include Tajiks, Kashgarians, Kipchaks, Jews, and Gypsies. The ruling classes are mainly Russians, who also make up the merchant and artisan communities. Merchants from West Turkestan are known throughout Central Asia as Andijanis, named after the town of Andijan in Ferghana. The vast majority of the population are Muslims (1,039,115 in 1897). The province is divided into five districts, with the main towns being New Marghelan, the provincial capital (with 8,977 inhabitants in 1897), Andijan (49,682 in 1900), Khokand (86,704 in 1900), Namangan (61,906 in 1897), and Osh (37,397 in 1900); however, Old Marghelan (42,855 in 1900) and Chust (13,686 in 1897) are also significant towns. For the history, see Khokand.

(P. A. K.; J. T. Be.)

FERGUS FALLS, a city and the county-seat of Otter Tail county, Minnesota, U.S.A., on the Red river, 170 m. N.W. of Minneapolis. Pop. (1890) 3772; (1900) 6072, of whom 2131 were foreign-born; (1905) 6692; (1910) 6887. A large part of the population is of Scandinavian birth or descent. Fergus Falls is served by the Great Northern and the Northern Pacific railways. Situated in the celebrated “park region” of the state, the city possesses great natural beauty, which has been enhanced by a system of boulevards and well-kept private lawns. Lake Alice, in the residential district, adds to the city’s attractions. The city has a public library, a county court house, St Luke’s hospital, the G.B. Wright memorial hospital, and a city hall. It is the seat of a state hospital for the insane (1887) with about 1600 patients, of a business college, of the Park Region Luther College (Norwegian Lutheran, 1892), and of the North-western College (Swedish Lutheran; opened in 1901). It has one of the finest water-powers in the state. Flour is the principal product; among others are woollen goods, foundry and machine-shop products, wooden ware, sash, doors and blinds, caskets, shirts, wagons and packed meats. The city owns and operates its water-works and its electric-lighting plant. Fergus Falls was settled about 1859 and was incorporated in 1863.

FERGUS FALLS, is a city and the county seat of Otter Tail County, Minnesota, U.S.A., located on the Red River, 170 miles northwest of Minneapolis. Population: (1890) 3,772; (1900) 6,072, of which 2,131 were foreign-born; (1905) 6,692; (1910) 6,887. A significant portion of the population has Scandinavian roots. Fergus Falls is served by the Great Northern and Northern Pacific railroads. Located in the famous “park region” of the state, the city boasts stunning natural beauty, complemented by a network of boulevards and well-maintained private lawns. Lake Alice, situated in the residential area, enhances the city's appeal. The city features a public library, a county courthouse, St. Luke’s Hospital, the G.B. Wright Memorial Hospital, and a city hall. It is home to a state hospital for the mentally ill (established in 1887) with about 1,600 patients, a business college, Park Region Luther College (Norwegian Lutheran, established in 1892), and Northwestern College (Swedish Lutheran; opened in 1901). It also has one of the best water power sources in the state. Flour is the main product, with others including woolen goods, foundry and machine shop products, wooden items, sashes, doors and blinds, caskets, shirts, wagons, and packaged meats. The city owns and operates its own waterworks and electric lighting plant. Fergus Falls was settled around 1859 and incorporated in 1863.


FERGUSON, ADAM (1723-1816), Scottish philosopher and historian, was born on the 20th of June 1723, at Logierait, Perthshire. He was educated at Perth grammar school and the university of St Andrews. In 1745, owing to his knowledge of Gaelic, he was appointed deputy chaplain of the 43rd (afterwards the 42nd) regiment (the Black Watch), the licence to preach being granted him by special dispensation, although he had not completed the required six years of theological study. At the battle of Fontenoy (1745) Ferguson fought in the ranks throughout the day, and refused to leave the field, though ordered to do so by his colonel. He continued attached to the regiment till 1754, when, disappointed at not obtaining a living, he abandoned the clerical profession and resolved to devote himself to literary pursuits. In January 1757 he succeeded David Hume as librarian to the faculty of advocates, but soon relinquished this office on becoming tutor in the family of Lord Bute.

FERGUSON, ADAM (1723-1816), Scottish philosopher and historian, was born on June 20, 1723, in Logierait, Perthshire. He studied at Perth grammar school and the University of St Andrews. In 1745, due to his knowledge of Gaelic, he was appointed deputy chaplain of the 43rd (later the 42nd) regiment (the Black Watch), receiving special permission to preach even though he hadn't finished the required six years of theological study. During the battle of Fontenoy (1745), Ferguson fought alongside his comrades all day and refused to leave the field, despite orders from his colonel. He stayed with the regiment until 1754, when, frustrated by not getting a church position, he left the clergy to focus on writing. In January 1757, he took over as librarian for the faculty of advocates from David Hume, but soon stepped down to become a tutor for the family of Lord Bute.

In 1759 Ferguson was appointed professor of natural philosophy in the university of Edinburgh, and in 1764 was transferred to the chair of “pneumatics” (mental philosophy) “and moral philosophy.” In 1767, against Hume’s advice, he published his Essay on the History of Civil Society, which was well received and translated into several European languages. In 1776 appeared his (anonymous) pamphlet on the American revolution in opposition to Dr Price’s Observations on the Nature of Civil Liberty, in which he sympathized with the views of the British legislature. In 1778 Ferguson was appointed secretary to the commission which endeavoured, but without success, to negotiate an arrangement with the revolted colonies. In 1783 appeared his History of the Progress and Termination of the Roman Republic; it was very popular, and went through several editions. Ferguson was led to undertake this work from a conviction that the history of the Romans during the period of their greatness was a practical illustration of those ethical and political doctrines which were the object of his special study. The history is written in an agreeable style and a spirit of impartiality, and gives evidence of a conscientious use of authorities. The influence of the author’s military experience shows itself in certain portions of the narrative. Finding himself unequal to the labour of teaching, he resigned his professorship in 1785, and devoted himself to the revision of his lectures, which he published (1792) under the title of Principles of Moral and Political Science.

In 1759, Ferguson was appointed as a professor of natural philosophy at the University of Edinburgh, and in 1764, he moved to the chair of "pneumatics" (mental philosophy) and moral philosophy. In 1767, against Hume’s advice, he published his Essay on the History of Civil Society, which was well received and translated into several European languages. In 1776, he released an anonymous pamphlet about the American Revolution in response to Dr. Price’s Observations on the Nature of Civil Liberty, in which he supported the views of the British legislature. In 1778, Ferguson was appointed secretary to the commission that attempted, but failed, to negotiate a settlement with the rebel colonies. In 1783, he published his History of the Progress and Termination of the Roman Republic; it was quite popular and went through several editions. Ferguson was inspired to undertake this work because he believed that the history of the Romans during their peak served as a practical illustration of the ethical and political doctrines that were his main focus of study. The history is written in an engaging style and an impartial spirit, demonstrating a diligent use of sources. The impact of the author’s military background is evident in certain parts of the narrative. Finding teaching too demanding, he resigned from his professorship in 1785 and focused on revising his lectures, which he published in 1792 under the title Principles of Moral and Political Science.

When in his seventieth year, Ferguson, intending to prepare a new edition of the history, visited Italy and some of the principal cities of Europe, where he was received with honour by learned societies. From 1795 he resided successively at the old castle of Neidpath near Peebles, at Hallyards on Manor Water and at St Andrews, where he died on the 22nd of February 1816.

When he turned seventy, Ferguson, planning to create a new edition of his history, traveled to Italy and several major cities in Europe, where he was honored by scholarly societies. From 1795, he lived in various places, including the old castle of Neidpath near Peebles, Hallyards on Manor Water, and St Andrews, where he passed away on February 22, 1816.

In his ethical system Ferguson treats man throughout as a social being, and illustrates his doctrines by political examples. As a believer in the progression of the human race, he placed the principle of moral approbation in the attainment of perfection. His speculations were carefully criticized by Cousin (see his Cours d’histoire de la philosophie morale au dix-huitième siècle, pt. ii., 1839-1840):—“We find in his method the wisdom and circumspection of the Scottish school, with something more masculine and decisive in the results. The principle of perfection is a new one, at once more rational and comprehensive than benevolence and sympathy, which in our view places Ferguson as a moralist above all his predecessors.” By this principle Ferguson endeavours to reconcile all moral systems. With Hobbes and Hume he admits the power of self-interest or utility, and makes it enter into morals as the law of self-preservation. Hutcheson’s theory of universal benevolence and Smith’s idea of sympathy he combines under the law of society. But, as these laws are the means rather than the end of human destiny, they are subordinate to a supreme end, and this supreme end is perfection. In the political part of his system Ferguson follows Montesquieu, and pleads the cause of well-regulated liberty and free government. His contemporaries, with the exception of Hume, regarded his writings as of great importance; in point of fact they are superficial. The facility of their style and the frequent occurrence of would-be weighty epigrams blinded his critics to the fact that, in spite of his recognition of the importance of observation, he made no real contribution to political theory (see Sir Leslie Stephen, English Thought in the Eighteenth Century, x. 89-90).

In his ethical system, Ferguson views humans as social beings and supports his ideas with political examples. As someone who believes in the progress of humanity, he centers the principle of moral approval on achieving perfection. His ideas were thoroughly examined by Cousin (see his Cours d’histoire de la philosophie morale au dix-huitième siècle, pt. ii., 1839-1840):—“In his approach, we see the wisdom and caution of the Scottish school, combined with something more assertive and definitive in the outcomes. The principle of perfection is a fresh concept, more rational and inclusive than benevolence and sympathy, which positions Ferguson as a moralist above all his predecessors.” Through this principle, Ferguson aims to unify all moral systems. Alongside Hobbes and Hume, he acknowledges the role of self-interest or utility, incorporating it into morals as the law of self-preservation. He merges Hutcheson’s theory of universal benevolence and Smith’s notion of sympathy under the law of society. However, since these laws are means to human destiny rather than the ultimate goal, they fall beneath a higher aim, which is perfection. In the political aspect of his system, Ferguson follows Montesquieu, advocating for well-regulated freedom and self-governance. His contemporaries, except for Hume, considered his writings significantly important; however, they are, in reality, superficial. The ease of his writing style and the frequent use of pretentious epigrams blinded his critics to the fact that, despite acknowledging the value of observation, he did not make a meaningful contribution to political theory (see Sir Leslie Stephen, English Thought in the Eighteenth Century, x. 89-90).

The chief authority for Ferguson’s life is the Biographical Sketch by John Small (1864); see also Public Characters (1799-1800); Gentleman’s Magazine, i. (1816 supp.); W.R. Chambers’s Biographical Dictionary of Eminent Scotsmen; memoir by Principal Lee in early editions of the Encyclopaedia Britannica; J. McCosh, The Scottish Philosophy (1875); articles in Dictionary of National Biography and Edinburgh Review (January 1867); Lord Henry Cockburn, Memorials of his Time (1856).

The main source for Ferguson’s life is the Biographical Sketch by John Small (1864); also see Public Characters (1799-1800); Gentleman’s Magazine, i. (1816 supp.); W.R. Chambers’s Biographical Dictionary of Eminent Scotsmen; the memoir by Principal Lee in early editions of the Encyclopaedia Britannica; J. McCosh, The Scottish Philosophy (1875); articles in the Dictionary of National Biography and Edinburgh Review (January 1867); Lord Henry Cockburn, Memorials of his Time (1856).

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FERGUSON, JAMES (1710-1776), Scottish mechanician and astronomer, was born near Rothiemay in Banffshire on the 25th of April 1710, of parents in very humble circumstances. He first learned to read by overhearing his father teach his elder brother, and with the help of an old woman was “able,” he says in his autobiography, “to read tolerably well before his father thought of teaching him.” After receiving further instruction in reading from his father, who also taught him to write, he was sent at the age of seven for three months to the grammar school at Keith. His taste for mechanics was about this time accidentally awakened on seeing his father making use of a lever to raise a part of the roof of his house—an exhibition of seeming strength which at first “excited his terror as well as wonder.” In 1720 he was sent to a neighbouring farm to keep sheep, where in the daytime he amused himself by making models of mills and other machines, and at night in studying the stars. Afterwards, as a servant with a miller, and then with a doctor, he met with hardships which rendered his constitution feeble through life. Being compelled by his weak health to return home, he there amused himself with making a clock having wooden wheels and a whalebone spring. When slightly recovered he showed this and some other inventions to a neighbouring gentleman, who engaged him to clean his clocks, and also desired him to make his house his home. He there began to draw patterns for needlework, and his success in this art led him to think of becoming a painter. In 1734 he went to Edinburgh, where he began to take portraits in miniature, by which means, while engaged in his scientific studies, he supported himself and his family for many years. Subsequently he settled at Inverness, where he drew up his Astronomical Rotula for showing the motions of the planets, places of the sun and moon, &c., and in 1743 went to London, which was his home for the rest of his life. He wrote various papers for the Royal Society, of which he became a fellow in 1763, devised astronomical and mechanical models, and in 1748 began to give public lectures on experimental philosophy. These he repeated in most of the principal towns in England. His deep interest in his subject, his clear explanations, his ingeniously constructed diagrams, and his mechanical apparatus rendered him one of the most successful of popular lecturers on scientific subjects. It is, however, as the inventor and improver of astronomical and other scientific apparatus, and as a striking instance of self-education, that he claims a place among the most remarkable men of science of his country. During the latter years of his life he was in receipt of a pension of £50 from the privy purse. He died in London on the 17th of November 1776.

FERGUSON, JAMES (1710-1776), Scottish mechanic and astronomer, was born near Rothiemay in Banffshire on April 25, 1710, to parents in very humble circumstances. He first learned to read by listening to his father teach his older brother, and with the help of an elderly woman, he was “able,” he writes in his autobiography, “to read fairly well before his father thought of teaching him.” After getting more reading lessons from his father, who also taught him to write, he went to grammar school in Keith at the age of seven for three months. His interest in mechanics was sparked when he saw his father using a lever to lift part of the roof of their house—an act of apparent strength that initially “filled him with fear as well as wonder.” In 1720, he was sent to a nearby farm to tend sheep, where during the day he entertained himself by making models of mills and other machines, and at night studying the stars. Later, while working as a servant for a miller and then for a doctor, he faced hardships that weakened his health for the rest of his life. Forced to return home due to his fragile health, he spent his time building a clock with wooden wheels and a whalebone spring. Once he felt a bit better, he showed this and other inventions to a local gentleman, who hired him to fix his clocks and invited him to live at his house. There, he started to create patterns for needlework, and his success in this craft made him consider becoming a painter. In 1734, he moved to Edinburgh, where he began painting miniature portraits, which allowed him to support himself and his family while he pursued his scientific studies for many years. He later settled in Inverness, where he created his Astronomical Rotula to display the movements of the planets, locations of the sun and moon, and more, and in 1743, he moved to London, where he lived for the rest of his life. He wrote several papers for the Royal Society, becoming a fellow in 1763, designed astronomical and mechanical models, and in 1748 started giving public lectures on experimental philosophy. He delivered these lectures in most major towns in England. His intense passion for his subject, clear explanations, cleverly constructed diagrams, and mechanical equipment made him one of the most successful popular lecturers on scientific topics. However, it is primarily as an inventor and improver of astronomical and other scientific instruments, as well as a prime example of self-education, that he secures his place among the most notable scientists of his country. In his later years, he received a pension of £50 from the privy purse. He passed away in London on November 17, 1776.

Ferguson’s principal publications are Astronomical Tables (1763); Lectures on Select Subjects (1st ed., 1761, edited by Sir David Brewster in 1805); Astronomy explained upon Sir Isaac Newton’s Principles (1756, edited by Sir David Brewster in 1811); and Select Mechanical Exercises, with a Short Account of the Life of the Author, written by himself (1773). This autobiography is included in a Life by E. Henderson, LL.D. (1st ed., 1867; 2nd, 1870), which also contains a full description of Ferguson’s principal inventions, accompanied with illustrations. See also The Story of the Peasant-Boy Philosopher, by Henry Mayhew (1857).

Ferguson’s main publications are Astronomical Tables (1763); Lectures on Select Subjects (1st ed., 1761, edited by Sir David Brewster in 1805); Astronomy Explained Based on Sir Isaac Newton’s Principles (1756, edited by Sir David Brewster in 1811); and Select Mechanical Exercises, with a Short Account of the Author's Life, Written by Himself (1773). This autobiography is included in a Life by E. Henderson, LL.D. (1st ed., 1867; 2nd, 1870), which also features a detailed description of Ferguson’s key inventions, along with illustrations. See also The Story of the Peasant-Boy Philosopher, by Henry Mayhew (1857).


FERGUSON, ROBERT (c. 1637-1714), British conspirator and pamphleteer, called the “Plotter,” was a son of William Ferguson (d. 1699) of Badifurrow, Aberdeenshire, and after receiving a good education, probably at the university of Aberdeen, became a Presbyterian minister. According to Bishop Burnet he was cast out by the Presbyterians; but whether this be so or not, he soon made his way to England and became vicar of Godmersham, Kent, from which living he was expelled by the Act of Uniformity in 1662. Some years later, having gained meanwhile a reputation as a theological controversialist and become a person of importance among the Nonconformists, he attracted the notice of the earl of Shaftesbury and the party which favoured the exclusion of the duke of York (afterwards King James II.) from the throne, and he began to write political pamphlets just at the time when the feeling against the Roman Catholics was at its height. In 1680 he wrote “A Letter to a Person of Honour concerning the ‘Black Box,’” in which he supported the claim of the duke of Monmouth to the crown against that of the duke of York; returning to the subject after Charles II. had solemnly denied the existence of a marriage between himself and Lucy Waters. He took an active part in the controversy over the Exclusion Bill, and claimed to be the author of the whole of the pamphlet “No Protestant Plot” (1681), parts of which are usually ascribed to Shaftesbury. Ferguson was deeply implicated in the Rye House Plot, although he asserted that he had frustrated both this and a subsequent attempt to assassinate the king, and he fled to Holland with Shaftesbury in 1682, returning to England early in 1683. For his share in another plot against Charles II. he was declared an outlaw, after which he entered into communication with Argyll, Monmouth and other malcontents. Ferguson then took a leading part in organizing the rising of 1685. Having overcome Monmouth’s reluctance to take part in this movement, he accompanied the duke to the west of England and drew up the manifesto against James II., escaping to Holland after the battle of Sedgemoor. He landed in England with William of Orange in 1688, and aided William’s cause with his pen; but William and his advisers did not regard him as a person of importance, although his services were rewarded with a sinecure appointment in the Excise. Chagrined at this treatment, Ferguson was soon in correspondence with the exiled Jacobites. He shared in all the plots against the life of William, and after his removal from the Excise in 1692 wrote violent pamphlets against the government. Although he was several times arrested on suspicion, he was never brought to trial. He died in great poverty in 1714, leaving behind him a great and deserved reputation for treachery. It has been thought by Macaulay and others that Ferguson led the English government to believe that he was a spy in their interests, and that his frequent escapes from justice were due to official connivance. In a proclamation issued for his arrest in 1683 he is described as “a tall lean man, dark brown hair, a great Roman nose, thin-jawed, heat in his face, speaks in the Scotch tone, a sharp piercing eye, stoops a little in the shoulders.” Besides numerous pamphlets Ferguson wrote: History of the Revolution (1706); Qualifications requisite in a Minister of State (1710); and part of the History of all the Mobs, Tumults and Insurrections in Great Britain (London, 1715).

FERGUSON, ROBERT (c. 1637-1714), British conspirator and pamphleteer, known as the “Plotter,” was the son of William Ferguson (d. 1699) from Badifurrow, Aberdeenshire. After receiving a solid education, likely at the University of Aberdeen, he became a Presbyterian minister. According to Bishop Burnet, he was expelled by the Presbyterians; whether that’s true or not, he quickly moved to England and became the vicar of Godmersham, Kent, but was removed from that position by the Act of Uniformity in 1662. A few years later, having built a reputation as a theological debater and becoming a significant figure among the Nonconformists, he caught the attention of the Earl of Shaftesbury and those who supported excluding the Duke of York (later King James II.) from the throne. During this period of rising anti-Roman Catholic sentiment, he began writing political pamphlets. In 1680, he wrote “A Letter to a Person of Honour concerning the ‘Black Box,’” where he backed the Duke of Monmouth's claim to the crown over that of the Duke of York, revisiting the issue after Charles II. publicly denied having married Lucy Waters. He actively participated in the debate about the Exclusion Bill and claimed credit for the entire pamphlet “No Protestant Plot” (1681), parts of which are often attributed to Shaftesbury. Ferguson was heavily involved in the Rye House Plot, although he claimed he thwarted both this and another assassination attempt against the king. He fled to Holland with Shaftesbury in 1682, returning to England in early 1683. For his involvement in another plot against Charles II., he was declared an outlaw, after which he communicated with Argyll, Monmouth, and other discontents. Ferguson played a significant role in organizing the uprising of 1685. After persuading Monmouth to join the movement, he traveled with the duke to the west of England and drafted the manifesto against James II., escaping to Holland after the Battle of Sedgemoor. He landed in England with William of Orange in 1688, using his writing to support William’s cause, but William and his advisors did not see him as valuable, and he only received a sinecure appointment in the Excise. Frustrated by this treatment, Ferguson soon corresponded with the exiled Jacobites. He was involved in several plots against William's life, and after being removed from the Excise in 1692, he authored aggressive pamphlets against the government. Although he was arrested multiple times on suspicion, he was never tried. He died in great poverty in 1714, leaving behind a significant and deserved reputation for treachery. Macaulay and others have suggested that Ferguson led the English government to believe he was a spy for them, and that his frequent escapes from justice were due to official complicity. In a proclamation issued for his arrest in 1683, he was described as “a tall lean man, dark brown hair, a prominent Roman nose, thin-jawed, having a fiery complexion, speaking in a Scottish accent, with a sharp, piercing eye, stooping slightly at the shoulders.” In addition to numerous pamphlets, Ferguson wrote: History of the Revolution (1706); Qualifications requisite in a Minister of State (1710); and part of the History of all the Mobs, Tumults and Insurrections in Great Britain (London, 1715).

See James Ferguson, Robert Ferguson, the Plotter (Edinburgh, 1887), which gives a favourable account of Ferguson.

See James Ferguson, Robert Ferguson, the Plotter (Edinburgh, 1887), which offers a positive perspective on Ferguson.


FERGUSON, SIR SAMUEL (1810-1886), Irish poet and antiquary, was born at Belfast, on the 10th of March 1810. He was educated at Trinity College, Dublin, was called to the Irish bar in 1838, and was made Q.C. in 1859, but in 1867 retired from practice upon his appointment as deputy-keeper of the Irish records, then in a much neglected condition. He was an excellent civil servant, and was knighted in 1878 for his services to the department. His spare time was given to general literature, and in particular to poetry. He had long been a leading contributor to the Dublin University Magazine and to Blackwood, where he had published his two literary masterpieces, “The Forging of the Anchor,” one of the finest of modern ballads, and the humorous prose extravaganza of “Father Tom and the Pope.” He published Lays of the Western Gael in 1865, Poems in 1880, and in 1872 Congal, a metrical narrative of the heroic age of Ireland, and, though far from ideal perfection, perhaps the most successful attempt yet made by a modern Irish poet to revivify the spirit of the past in a poem of epic proportions. Lyrics have succeeded better in other hands; many of Ferguson’s pieces on modern themes, notably his “Lament for Thomas Davis” (1845), are, nevertheless, excellent. He was an extensive contributor on antiquarian subjects to the Transactions of the Royal Irish Academy, and was elected its president in 1882. His manners were delightful, and his hospitality was boundless. He died at Howth on the 9th of August 1886. His most important antiquarian work, Ogham Inscriptions in Ireland, Wales, Scotland, was published in the year after his death.

FERGUSON, SIR SAMUEL (1810-1886), Irish poet and historian, was born in Belfast on March 10, 1810. He studied at Trinity College, Dublin, was called to the Irish bar in 1838, and became Q.C. in 1859. However, in 1867, he stepped away from practice after being appointed deputy-keeper of the Irish records, which were then in a much neglected state. He was a great civil servant and was knighted in 1878 for his work in the department. In his free time, he focused on literature, especially poetry. He had long been a key contributor to the Dublin University Magazine and Blackwood, where he published his two literary masterpieces, “The Forging of the Anchor,” one of the finest modern ballads, and the humorous prose piece “Father Tom and the Pope.” He released Lays of the Western Gael in 1865, Poems in 1880, and in 1872 Congal, a metrical narrative about the heroic age of Ireland. Though not perfectly ideal, it may be the most successful attempt by a modern Irish poet to revitalized the spirit of the past in an epic poem. Other poets have fared better with lyrics, but many of Ferguson’s works on modern themes, notably his “Lament for Thomas Davis” (1845), are still excellent. He was a prolific contributor to antiquarian topics in the Transactions of the Royal Irish Academy and was elected president in 1882. He had charming manners and was known for his endless hospitality. He passed away in Howth on August 9, 1886. His most significant work on antiquities, Ogham Inscriptions in Ireland, Wales, Scotland, was published the year after his death.

See Sir Samuel Ferguson in the Ireland of his Day (1896), by his wife, Mary C. Ferguson; also an article by A.P. Graves in A Treasury of Irish Poetry in the English Tongue (1900), edited by Stopford Brooke and T.W. Rolleston.

See Sir Samuel Ferguson in the Ireland of his Day (1896), by his wife, Mary C. Ferguson; also an article by A.P. Graves in A Treasury of Irish Poetry in the English Tongue (1900), edited by Stopford Brooke and T.W. Rolleston.

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FERGUSSON, JAMES (1808-1886), Scottish writer on architecture, was born at Ayr on the 22nd of January 1808. His father was an army surgeon. After being educated first at the Edinburgh high school, and afterwards at a private school at Hounslow, James went to Calcutta as partner in a mercantile house. Here he was attracted by the remains of the ancient architecture of India, little known or understood at that time. The successful conduct of an indigo factory, as he states in his own account, enabled him in about ten years to retire from business and settle in London. The observations made on Indian architecture were first embodied in his book on The Rock-cut Temples of India, published in 1845. The task of analysing the historic and aesthetic relations of this type of ancient buildings led him further to undertake a historical and critical comparative survey of the whole subject of architecture in The Handbook of Architecture, a work which first appeared in 1855. This did not satisfy him, and the work was reissued ten years later in a much more extended form under the title of The History of Architecture. The chapters on Indian architecture, which had been considered at rather disproportionate length in the Handbook, were removed from the general History, and the whole of this subject treated more fully in a separate volume, The History of Indian and Eastern Architecture, which appeared in 1876, and, although complete in itself, formed a kind of appendix to The History of Architecture. Previously to this, in 1862, he issued his History of Modern Architecture, in which the subject was continued from the Renaissance to the present day, the period of “modern architecture” being distinguished as that of revivals and imitations of ancient styles, which began with the Renaissance. The essential difference between this and the spontaneously evolved architecture of preceding ages Fergusson was the first clearly to point out and characterize. His treatise on The True Principles of Beauty in Art, an early publication, is a most thoughtful metaphysical study. Some of his essays on special points in archaeology, such as the treatise on The Mode in which Light was introduced into Greek Temples, included theories which have not received general acceptance. His real monument is his History of Architecture (later edition revised by R. Phenè Spiers), which, for grasp of the whole subject, comprehensiveness of plan, and thoughtful critical analysis, stands quite alone in architectural literature. He received the gold medal of the Royal Institute of British Architects in 1871. Among his works, besides those already mentioned, are: A Proposed New System of Fortification (1849), Palaces of Nineveh and Persepolis restored (1851), Mausoleum at Halicarnassus restored (1862), Tree and Serpent Worship (1868), Rude Stone Monuments in all Countries (1872), and The Temples of the Jews and the other Buildings in the Haram Area at Jerusalem (1878). The sessional papers of the Institute of British Architects include papers by him on The History of the Pointed Arch, Architecture of Southern India, Architectural Splendour of the City of Beejapore, On the Erechtheum and on the Temple of Diana at Ephesus.

FERGUSSON, JAMES (1808-1886), Scottish writer on architecture, was born in Ayr on January 22, 1808. His father was an army surgeon. After attending the Edinburgh high school and a private school in Hounslow, James moved to Calcutta as a partner in a trading company. He became fascinated by the remnants of ancient Indian architecture, which were not widely known or understood at the time. According to his own account, his success in running an indigo factory allowed him to retire from business about ten years later and settle in London. His observations on Indian architecture were first published in his book The Rock-cut Temples of India in 1845. Analyzing the historical and aesthetic connections of this type of ancient building led him to conduct a comprehensive historical and critical survey of the entire field of architecture in The Handbook of Architecture, first published in 1855. This didn't satisfy him, so the work was reissued ten years later in a vastly expanded form titled The History of Architecture. The sections on Indian architecture, previously overly detailed in the Handbook, were removed and explored more thoroughly in a separate volume, The History of Indian and Eastern Architecture, released in 1876. Although self-contained, it served as an appendix to The History of Architecture. Before this, in 1862, he published History of Modern Architecture, which continued the subject from the Renaissance to the present, discussing the "modern architecture" period characterized by revivals and imitations of ancient styles beginning with the Renaissance. Fergusson was the first to clearly identify and define the key differences between this and the naturally developed architecture of earlier eras. His early work, The True Principles of Beauty in Art, is a thoughtful metaphysical exploration. Some of his essays on specific archaeological topics, like The Mode in which Light was introduced into Greek Temples, included theories not widely accepted. His true legacy is his History of Architecture (revised in later editions by R. Phenè Spiers), which remains unique in architectural literature for its comprehensive overview, well-structured planning, and insightful critical analysis. He received the Royal Institute of British Architects' gold medal in 1871. Other notable works include A Proposed New System of Fortification (1849), Palaces of Nineveh and Persepolis restored (1851), Mausoleum at Halicarnassus restored (1862), Tree and Serpent Worship (1868), Rude Stone Monuments in all Countries (1872), and The Temples of the Jews and the other Buildings in the Haram Area at Jerusalem (1878). The sessional papers of the Institute of British Architects feature his articles on The History of the Pointed Arch, Architecture of Southern India, Architectural Splendour of the City of Beejapore, On the Erechtheum, and The Temple of Diana at Ephesus.

Although Fergusson never practised architecture he took a keen interest in all the professional work of his time. He was adviser with Austen Layard in the scheme of decoration for the Assyrian court at the Crystal Palace, and indeed assumed in 1856 the duties of general manager to the Palace Company, a post which he held for two years. In 1847 Fergusson had published an “Essay on the Ancient Topography of Jerusalem,” in which he had contended that the “Mosque of Omar” was the identical church built by Constantine the Great over the tomb of our Lord at Jerusalem, and that it, and not the present church of the Holy Sepulchre, was the genuine burial-place of Jesus. The burden of this contention was further explained by the publication in 1860 of his Notes on the Site of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem; and The Temples of the Jews and the other Buildings in the Haram Area at Jerusalem, published in 1878, was a still completer elaboration of these theories, which are said to have been the origin of the establishment of the Palestine Exploration fund. His manifold activities continued till his death, which took place in London on the 9th of January 1886.

Although Fergusson never practiced architecture, he was very interested in all the professional work of his time. He worked with Austen Layard on the decoration scheme for the Assyrian court at the Crystal Palace, and in 1856, he took on the role of general manager for the Palace Company, a position he held for two years. In 1847, Fergusson published an “Essay on the Ancient Topography of Jerusalem,” where he argued that the “Mosque of Omar” was the same church built by Constantine the Great over the tomb of Jesus in Jerusalem, and that it, rather than the current church of the Holy Sepulchre, was the true burial-place of Jesus. This argument was further detailed in his 1860 publication, Notes on the Site of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem; and The Temples of the Jews and the other Buildings in the Haram Area at Jerusalem, published in 1878, provided a more complete development of these theories, which are believed to have led to the establishment of the Palestine Exploration Fund. His diverse activities continued until his death in London on January 9, 1886.


FERGUSSON, ROBERT (1750-1774), Scottish poet, son of Sir William Fergusson, a clerk in the British Linen Company, was born at Edinburgh on the 5th of September 1750. Robert was educated at the grammar school of Dundee, and at the university of St Andrews, where he matriculated in 1765. His father died while he was still at college; but a bursary enabled him to complete his four years of study. He refused to study for the church, and was too nervous to study medicine as his friends wished. He quarrelled with his uncle, John Forbes of Round Lichnot, Aberdeenshire, and went to Edinburgh, where he obtained employment as copying clerk in a lawyer’s office. In this humble occupation he passed the remainder of his life. While at college he had written a clever elegy on Dr David Gregory, and in 1771 he began to contribute verses regularly to Ruddiman’s Weekly Magazine. He was a member of the Cape Club, celebrated by him in his poem of “Auld Reekie.” “The Knights of the Cape” assembled at a tavern in Craig’s Close, in the vicinity of the Cross; each member had a name and character assigned to him, which he was required to maintain at all gatherings of the order. David Herd (1732-1810), the collector of the classic edition of Ancient and Modern Scottish Songs (1776), was sovereign of the Cape (in which he was known as “Sir Scrape”) when Fergusson was dubbed a knight of the order, with the title of “Sir Precentor,” in allusion to his fine voice. Alexander Runciman, the historical painter, his pupil Jacob More, and Sir Henry Raeburn were all members. The old minute books of the club abound with pencilled sketches by them, one of the most interesting of which, ascribed to Runciman’s pencil, is a sketch of Fergusson in his character of “Sir Precentor.”

FERGUSSON, ROBERT (1750-1774), Scottish poet, son of Sir William Fergusson, a clerk at the British Linen Company, was born in Edinburgh on September 5, 1750. Robert was educated at the grammar school in Dundee and at the University of St Andrews, where he enrolled in 1765. His father passed away while he was still in college, but a scholarship allowed him to finish his four years of studies. He refused to prepare for the ministry and felt too anxious to pursue medicine, as his friends suggested. He had a falling out with his uncle, John Forbes of Round Lichnot, Aberdeenshire, and moved to Edinburgh, where he got a job as a copy clerk in a lawyer’s office. He spent the rest of his life in this modest position. While at college, he wrote an impressive elegy on Dr. David Gregory, and in 1771, he started contributing poems regularly to Ruddiman’s Weekly Magazine. He was a member of the Cape Club, which he celebrated in his poem “Auld Reekie.” “The Knights of the Cape” met at a tavern in Craig’s Close, near the Cross; each member had a name and character they were expected to uphold at all meetings of the club. David Herd (1732-1810), the compiler of the classic edition of Ancient and Modern Scottish Songs (1776), was the leader of the Cape (known as “Sir Scrape”) when Fergusson was made a knight of the order, taking the title “Sir Precentor” in reference to his beautiful voice. Alexander Runciman, the historical painter, his student Jacob More, and Sir Henry Raeburn were all members. The club's old minute books are filled with pencil sketches by them, one of the most fascinating, attributed to Runciman, being a sketch of Fergusson in his role as “Sir Precentor.”

Fergusson’s gaiety and wit made him an entertaining companion, and he indulged too freely in the convivial habits of the time. After a meeting with John Brown of Haddington he became, however, very serious, and would read nothing but his Bible. A fall by which his head was severely injured aggravated symptoms of mental aberration which had begun to show themselves; and after about two months’ confinement in the old Darien House—then the only public asylum in Edinburgh—the poet died on the 16th of October 1774.

Fergusson’s cheerfulness and quick wit made him a fun companion, and he enjoyed the social drinking habits of his time a bit too much. However, after meeting John Brown of Haddington, he became quite serious and only read his Bible. A fall that severely injured his head worsened signs of mental instability that had already started to appear; after about two months in the old Darien House—then the only public asylum in Edinburgh—the poet passed away on October 16, 1774.

Fergusson’s poems were collected in the year before his death. The influence of his writings on Robert Burns is undoubted. His “Leith Races” unquestionably supplied the model for the “Holy Fair.” Not only is the stanza the same, but the Mirth who plays the part of conductor to Fergusson, and the Fun who renders a like service to Burns, are manifestly conceived on the same model. “The Mutual Complaint of Plainstanes and Causey” probably suggested “The Brigs of Ayr”; “On seeing a Butterfly in the Street” has reflections in it which strikingly correspond with “To a Mouse”; nor will a comparison of “The Farmer’s Ingle” of the elder poet with “The Cottar’s Saturday Night” admit of a doubt as to the influence of the city-bred poet’s muse on that exquisite picturing of homely peasant life. Burns was himself the first to render a generous tribute to the merits of Fergusson; on his visit to Edinburgh in 1787 he sought out the poet’s grave, and petitioned the authorities of the Canongate burying-ground for permission to erect the memorial stone which is preserved in the existing monument. The date there assigned for his birth differs from the one given above, which rests on the authority of his younger sister Margaret.

Fergusson's poems were collected in the year before he passed away. The impact of his writings on Robert Burns is beyond question. His “Leith Races” clearly inspired the “Holy Fair.” Not only is the stanza identical, but the Mirth, who acts as the conductor for Fergusson, and the Fun, who takes on a similar role for Burns, are clearly based on the same concept. “The Mutual Complaint of Plainstanes and Causey” likely inspired “The Brigs of Ayr”; “On seeing a Butterfly in the Street” contains reflections that correspond strikingly with “To a Mouse”; and a comparison of “The Farmer’s Ingle” from the elder poet with “The Cottar’s Saturday Night” leaves no doubt about the influence of the city-bred poet’s muse on that beautiful depiction of simple peasant life. Burns himself was the first to give a heartfelt tribute to Fergusson’s talents; during his visit to Edinburgh in 1787, he sought out the poet’s grave and asked the authorities of the Canongate cemetery for permission to place the memorial stone that is still part of the current monument. The date noted for Fergusson's birth differs from the one mentioned above, which comes from the account of his younger sister Margaret.

The first edition of Fergusson’s poems was published by Ruddiman at Edinburgh in 1773, and a supplement containing additional poems, in 1779. A second edition appeared in 1785. There are later editions, by Robert Chambers (1850) and Dr A.B. Grosart (1851). A life of Fergusson is included in Dr David Irving’s Lives of the Scottish Poets, and in Robert Chambers’s Lives of Illustrious and Distinguished Scotsmen.

The first edition of Fergusson’s poems was published by Ruddiman in Edinburgh in 1773, and a supplement with additional poems came out in 1779. A second edition followed in 1785. There are later editions by Robert Chambers (1850) and Dr. A.B. Grosart (1851). A biography of Fergusson is included in Dr. David Irving’s Lives of the Scottish Poets, as well as in Robert Chambers’s Lives of Illustrious and Distinguished Scotsmen.


FERGUSSON, SIR WILLIAM, Bart. (1808-1877), British surgeon, the son of James Fergusson of Lochmaben, Dumfriesshire, was born at Prestonpans, East Lothian, on the 20th of March 1808. After receiving his early education at Lochmaben and the high school of Edinburgh, he entered the university of Edinburgh with the view of studying law, but soon afterwards abandoned his intention and became a pupil of the anatomist Robert Knox (1791-1862) whose demonstrator he was 274 appointed at the age of twenty. In 1836 he succeeded Robert Liston as surgeon to the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary, and coming to London in 1840 as professor of surgery in King’s College, and surgeon to King’s College Hospital, he acquired a commanding position among the surgeons of the metropolis. He revived the operation for cleft-palate, which for many years had fallen into disrepute, and invented a special mouth-gag for the same. He also devised many other surgical instruments, chief among which, and still in use to-day, are his bone forceps, lion forceps and vaginal speculum. In 1866 he was created a baronet. He died in London on the 10th of February 1877. As a surgeon Fergusson’s greatest merit is that of having introduced the practice of “conservative surgery,” by which he meant the excision of a joint rather than the amputation of a limb. He made his diagnosis with almost intuitive certainty; as an operator he was characterized by self-possession in the most critical circumstances, by minute attention to details and by great refinement of touch, and he relied more on his mechanical dexterity than on complicated instruments. He was the author of The Progress of Anatomy and Surgery in the Nineteenth Century (1867), and of a System of Practical Surgery (1842), which went through several editions.

FERGUSSON, SIR WILLIAM, Bart. (1808-1877), British surgeon, the son of James Fergusson from Lochmaben, Dumfriesshire, was born in Prestonpans, East Lothian, on March 20, 1808. After getting his early education in Lochmaben and at the high school in Edinburgh, he enrolled at the University of Edinburgh intending to study law, but soon changed his mind and became a student of the anatomist Robert Knox (1791-1862), for whom he was appointed demonstrator at the age of twenty. In 1836, he took over from Robert Liston as surgeon at the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary, and in 1840 moved to London as a professor of surgery at King’s College and surgeon to King’s College Hospital, gaining a prominent position among the surgeons in the city. He revived the cleft-palate surgery, which had been out of favor for years, and created a special mouth-gag for it. He also designed many surgical instruments, the most notable of which still in use today are his bone forceps, lion forceps, and vaginal speculum. In 1866, he was knighted. He died in London on February 10, 1877. As a surgeon, Fergusson is best known for introducing "conservative surgery," emphasizing joint excision over limb amputation. He had an almost intuitive accuracy in diagnosis; as a surgeon, he was calm in the most critical situations, paid great attention to detail, and had a delicate touch, relying more on his manual skill than complex instruments. He wrote The Progress of Anatomy and Surgery in the Nineteenth Century (1867) and A System of Practical Surgery (1842), which was published in several editions.


FERINGHI, or Feringhee, a Frank (Persian, Farangi). This term for a European is very old in Asia, and was originally used in a purely geographical sense, but now generally carries a hostile or contemptuous significance. The combatants on either side during the Indian Mutiny called each other Feringhies and Pandies.

FERINGHI, or Foreigner, a foreigner (Persian, Farangi). This term for a European is very old in Asia and was originally used in a purely geographical sense, but now it generally has a hostile or contemptuous meaning. During the Indian Mutiny, the fighters on both sides referred to each other as Feringhies and Pandies.


FERISHTA, MAHOMMED KASIM (c. 1570-c. 1611), Persian historian, was born at Astrabad, on the shores of the Caspian Sea. While he was still a child his father was summoned away from his native country into Hindostan, where he held high office in the Deccan; and by his influence the young Ferishta received court promotion. In 1589 Ferishta removed to Bijapur, where he spent the remainder of his life under the immediate protection of the shah Ibrahim Adil II., who engaged him to write a history of India. At the court of this monarch he died about 1611. In the introduction to his work a résumé is given of the history of Hindostan prior to the times of the Mahommedan conquest, and also of the victorious progress of the Arabs through the East. The first ten books are each occupied with a history of the kings of one of the provinces; the eleventh book gives an account of the Mussulmans of Malabar; the twelfth a history of the Mussulman saints of India; and the conclusion treats of the geography and climate of India. Ferishta is reputed one of the most trustworthy of the Oriental historians, and his work still maintains a high place as an authority. Several portions of it have been translated into English; but the best as well as the most complete translation is that published by General J. Briggs under the title of The History of the Rise of the Mahometan Power in India (London, 1829, 4 vols. 8vo). Several additions were made by Briggs to the original work of Ferishta, but he omitted the whole of the twelfth book, and various other passages which had been omitted in the copy from which he translated.

FERISHTA, MAHOMMED KASIM (c. 1570-c. 1611), a Persian historian, was born in Astrabad, on the shores of the Caspian Sea. When he was still a child, his father was called away from his homeland to Hindostan, where he held a high position in the Deccan; and through his influence, the young Ferishta gained promotion at court. In 1589, Ferishta moved to Bijapur, where he spent the rest of his life under the direct protection of Shah Ibrahim Adil II, who commissioned him to write a history of India. He died at the court of this king around 1611. In the introduction to his work, a résumé of the history of Hindostan prior to the Mahommedan conquest is provided, along with an account of the victorious advance of the Arabs through the East. The first ten books each focus on the history of the kings of one of the provinces; the eleventh book discusses the Muslims of Malabar; the twelfth offers a history of the Muslim saints of India; and the conclusion covers the geography and climate of India. Ferishta is regarded as one of the most reliable Oriental historians, and his work continues to hold a significant place as an authoritative source. Some parts of it have been translated into English, but the most complete translation is that published by General J. Briggs under the title The History of the Rise of the Mahometan Power in India (London, 1829, 4 vols. 8vo). Briggs made several additions to Ferishta's original work, but he omitted the entire twelfth book and various other sections that were absent in the copy from which he translated.


FERMANAGH, a county of Ireland, in the province of Ulster, bounded N.W. by Donegal, N.E. by Tyrone, E. by Monaghan and S.W. by Cavan and Leitrim. The area is 457,369 acres or about 715 sq. m. The county is situated mostly in the basin of the Erne, which divides the county into two nearly equal sections. Its surface is hilly, and its appearance (in many parts) somewhat sterile, though in the main, and especially in the neighbourhood of Lough Erne, it is picturesque and attractive. The climate, though moist, is healthy, and the people are generally tall and robust. The chief mountains are Cuilcagh (2188 ft.), partly in Leitrim and Cavan, Belmore (1312), Glenkeel (1223), North Shean (1135), Tappahan (1110), Carnmore (1034). Tossett or Toppid and Turaw mountains command extensive prospects, and form striking features in the scenery of the county. But the most distinguishing features of Fermanagh are the Upper and Lower Loughs Erne, which occupy a great extent of its surface, stretching for about 45 m. from S.E. to N.W. These lakes are expansions of the river Erne, which enters the county from Cavan at Wattle Bridge. It passes Belturbet, the Loughs Erne, Enniskillen and Belleek, on its way to the Atlantic, into which it descends at Ballyshannon. At Belleek it forms a considerable waterfall and is here well known to sportsmen for its good salmon fishing. Trout are taken in most of the loughs, and pike of great size in the Loughs Erne. There are several mineral springs in the county, some of them chalybeate, others sulphurous. At Belcoo, near Enniskillen, there is a famous well called Daragh Phadric, held in repute by the peasantry for its cure of paralytic and other diseases; and 4 m. N.W. of the same town, at a place called “the Daughton,” are natural caves of considerable size.

FERMANAGH, is a county in Ireland, located in the province of Ulster. It is bordered to the northwest by Donegal, to the northeast by Tyrone, to the east by Monaghan, and to the southwest by Cavan and Leitrim. The area covers 457,369 acres, or about 715 square miles. The county is primarily situated in the basin of the Erne River, which divides it into two nearly equal sections. The landscape is hilly, and while it appears somewhat barren in many areas, it is mostly picturesque and appealing, especially around Lough Erne. The climate is generally humid but healthy, and the people tend to be tall and strong. The main mountains include Cuilcagh (2,188 ft.), partly located in Leitrim and Cavan, Belmore (1,312 ft.), Glenkeel (1,223 ft.), North Shean (1,135 ft.), Tappahan (1,110 ft.), and Carnmore (1,034 ft.). The Tossett or Toppid and Turaw mountains provide extensive views and are prominent features in the county's scenery. However, the most notable aspects of Fermanagh are the Upper and Lower Loughs Erne, which cover a significant part of the landscape, stretching about 45 miles from the southeast to the northwest. These lakes are extensions of the Erne River, which enters the county from Cavan at Wattle Bridge. The river flows past Belturbet, the Loughs Erne, Enniskillen, and Belleek before reaching the Atlantic at Ballyshannon. At Belleek, it forms a significant waterfall and is well-known among anglers for its great salmon fishing. Trout can be found in most of the loughs, and large pike inhabit the Loughs Erne. There are several mineral springs in the county, some with iron content and others with sulfur. In Belcoo, near Enniskillen, there is a well known as Daragh Phadric, reputed by locals to cure paralysis and other ailments; located 4 miles northwest of the same town at a spot called "the Daughton," there are sizable natural caves.

This county includes in the north an area of the gneiss that is discussed under county Donegal, and, west of Omagh, a metamorphic region that stretches in from the central axis of Tyrone. A fault divides the latter from the mass of red-brown Old Red Sandstone that spreads south nearly to Enniskillen. Lower Carboniferous sandstone and limestone occur on the north of Lower Lough Erne. The limestone forms fine scarps on the southern side of the lake, capped by beds regarded as the Yoredale series. The scenery about the two Loughs Macnean is carved out in similarly scarped hills, rising to 2188 ft. in Cuilcagh on the south. The “Marble Arch” cave near Florence-court, with its emerging river, is a characteristic example of the subterranean waterways in the limestone. Upper Lough Erne is a typical meandering lake of the limestone lowland, with outliers of higher Carboniferous strata forming highlands north-east and south-west of it.

This county has a gneiss area in the north that is mentioned under County Donegal, and to the west of Omagh, there’s a metamorphic region that extends in from the central part of Tyrone. A fault separates this region from the mass of red-brown Old Red Sandstone that spreads southward nearly to Enniskillen. Lower Carboniferous sandstone and limestone can be found north of Lower Lough Erne. The limestone creates beautiful scarps on the southern side of the lake, topped by layers considered part of the Yoredale series. The landscape around the two Loughs Macnean features similarly steep hills, reaching 2188 ft. at Cuilcagh in the south. The "Marble Arch" cave near Florencecourt, with its emerging river, is a typical example of the underground waterways in the limestone. Upper Lough Erne is a classic winding lake of the limestone lowlands, with remnants of higher Carboniferous rock forming highlands to the northeast and southwest of it.

With the exception of the pottery works at Belleek, where iridescent ware of good quality is produced, Fermanagh has no distinguishing manufactures. It is chiefly an agricultural county. The proportion of tillage to pasture is roughly as 1 to 2½. Cattle and poultry are the principal classes of live stock. Oats and potatoes are the crops most extensively cultivated. The north-western division of the Great Northern railway passes through the most populous portion of the county, one branch connecting Enniskillen with Clones, another connecting Enniskillen with Londonderry via Omagh, and a third connecting Bundoran Junction with Bundoran, in county Donegal. The Sligo, Leitrim & Northern Counties railway connects with the Great Northern at Enniskillen, and the Clogher Valley light railway connects southern county Tyrone with the Great Northern at Maguiresbridge.

Aside from the pottery made at Belleek, which produces high-quality iridescent ware, Fermanagh doesn’t have any notable manufacturing industries. It’s primarily an agricultural county. The ratio of cultivated land to pasture is about 1 to 2.5. Cattle and poultry are the main types of livestock. Oats and potatoes are the most commonly grown crops. The northwestern section of the Great Northern Railway runs through the most populated part of the county, with one line connecting Enniskillen to Clones, another linking Enniskillen to Londonderry via Omagh, and a third connecting Bundoran Junction to Bundoran in County Donegal. The Sligo, Leitrim & Northern Counties Railway connects with the Great Northern at Enniskillen, and the Clogher Valley light railway connects southern County Tyrone with the Great Northern at Maguiresbridge.

The population (74,170 in 1891; 65,430 in 1901; almost wholly rural) shows a decrease among the most serious of the county populations of Ireland. It includes 55% of Roman Catholics and about 35% of Protestant Episcopalians. Enniskillen (the county town, pop. 5412) is the only town of importance, the rest being little more than villages. The principal are Lisnaskea, Irvinestown (formerly Lowtherstown), Maguiresbridge, Tempo, Newtownbutler, Belleek, Derrygonnelly and Kesh, at which fairs are held. Garrison, a fishing station on the wild Lough Melvin, and Pettigo, near to the lower Lough Erne, are market villages. Fermanagh returns two members to parliament, one each for the north and south divisions. It comprises eight baronies and nineteen civil parishes. The assizes are held at Enniskillen, quarter sessions at Enniskillen and Newtownbutler. The headquarters of the constabulary are at Enniskillen. Ecclesiastically it belongs to the Protestant and Roman Catholic dioceses of Clogher and Kilmore.

The population (74,170 in 1891; 65,430 in 1901; almost entirely rural) shows a decline among the most significant county populations in Ireland. It consists of 55% Roman Catholics and about 35% Protestant Episcopalians. Enniskillen (the county town, pop. 5,412) is the only major town, while the others are mostly villages. The main ones include Lisnaskea, Irvinestown (formerly Lowtherstown), Maguiresbridge, Tempo, Newtownbutler, Belleek, Derrygonnelly, and Kesh, where fairs take place. Garrison, a fishing spot on the wild Lough Melvin, and Pettigo, near the lower Lough Erne, are market villages. Fermanagh elects two members to parliament, one for the north and one for the south division. It consists of eight baronies and nineteen civil parishes. The assizes are held in Enniskillen, and quarter sessions in Enniskillen and Newtownbutler. The constabulary's headquarters is in Enniskillen. Ecclesiastically, it falls under the Protestant and Roman Catholic dioceses of Clogher and Kilmore.

By the ancient Irish the district was called Feor-magh-Eanagh, or the “country of the lakes” (lit. “the mountain-valley marsh district”); and also Magh-uire, or “the country of the waters.” A large portion was occupied by the Guarii, the ancestors of the MacGuires or Maguires, a name still common in the district. This family was so influential that for centuries the county was called after it Maguire’s Country, and one of the towns still existing bears its name, Maguiresbridge. Fermanagh was formed into a county on the shiring of Ulster in 1585 by Sir John Perrot, and was included in the well-known scheme of colonization of James I., the Plantation of Ulster. In 1689 battles were fought between William III.’s army and the Irish 275 under Macarthy (for James II.), Lisnaskea (26th July) and Newtownbutler (30th July). The chief place of interest to the antiquary is Devenish Island in Lough Erne, about 2½ m. N.W. from Enniskillen (q.v.), with its ruined abbey, round tower and cross. In various places throughout the county may be seen the ruins of several ancient castles, Danish raths or encampments, and tumuli, in the last of which urns and stone coffins have sometimes been found. The round tower on Devenish Island is one of the finest examples in the country.

By the ancient Irish, the area was called Feor-magh-Eanagh, or the “country of the lakes” (literally “the mountain-valley marsh district”); it was also known as Magh-uire, or “the country of the waters.” A large part of it was inhabited by the Guarii, the ancestors of the MacGuires or Maguires, a name still common in the region. This family was so influential that for centuries the county was referred to as Maguire’s Country, and one of the existing towns still carries this name, Maguiresbridge. Fermanagh became a county when Ulster was shired in 1585 by Sir John Perrot and was included in the well-known colonization scheme of James I, the Plantation of Ulster. In 1689, battles were fought between William III’s army and the Irish 275 under Macarthy (for James II.) at Lisnaskea (July 26) and Newtownbutler (July 30). The main point of interest for historians is Devenish Island in Lough Erne, about 2½ miles northwest of Enniskillen (q.v.), with its ruined abbey, round tower, and cross. Throughout the county, you can see the ruins of several ancient castles, Danish raths or encampments, and tumuli, in which urns and stone coffins have sometimes been discovered. The round tower on Devenish Island is one of the finest examples in the country.


FERMAT, PIERRE DE (1601-1665), French mathematician, was born on the 17th of August 1601, at Beaumont-de-Lomagne near Montauban. While still young, he, along with Blaise Pascal, made some discoveries in regard to the properties of numbers, on which he afterwards built his method of calculating probabilities. He discovered a simpler method of quadrating parabolas than that of Archimedes, and a method of finding the greatest and the smallest ordinates of curved lines analogous to that of the then unknown differential calculus. His great work De maximis et minimis brought him into conflict with René Descartes, but the dispute was chiefly due to a want of explicitness in the statement of Fermat (see Infinitesimal Calculus). His brilliant researches in the theory of numbers entitle him to rank as the founder of the modern theory. They originally took the form of marginal notes in a copy of Bachet’s Diophantus, and were published in 1670 by his son Samuel, who incorporated them in a new edition of this Greek writer. Other theorems were published in his Opera Varia, and in John Wallis’s Commercium epistolicum (1658). He died in the belief that he had found a relation which every prime number must satisfy, namely 22n + 1 = a prime. This was afterwards disproved by Leonhard Euler for the case when n = 5. Fermat’s Theorem, if p is prime and a is prime to p then ap−1 − 1 is divisible by p, was first given in a letter of 1640. Fermat’s Problem is that xn + yn = zn is impossible for integral values of x, y and z when n is greater than 2.

FERMAT, PIERRE DE (1601-1665), a French mathematician, was born on August 17, 1601, in Beaumont-de-Lomagne, near Montauban. While he was still young, he, along with Blaise Pascal, made discoveries about the properties of numbers, which led him to develop his method of calculating probabilities. He found a simpler way to calculate the area of parabolas compared to Archimedes' method, and he developed a technique for determining the maximum and minimum points of curved lines, similar to what would later be known as differential calculus. His significant work, De maximis et minimis, put him at odds with René Descartes, but their conflict was mainly due to Fermat's lack of clarity in his statements (see Infinitesimal Calculus). His remarkable research in number theory qualifies him as a pioneer of modern theory. Initially, these ideas were noted in the margins of a copy of Bachet’s Diophantus, and they were published in 1670 by his son Samuel in a new edition of the Greek writer. Additional theorems appeared in his Opera Varia and in John Wallis’s Commercium epistolicum (1658). He died believing he had discovered a relationship that every prime number must follow: 22n + 1 = a prime. This was later disproved by Leonhard Euler when n = 5. Fermat’s Theorem, which states that if p is prime and a is not divisible by p, then ap−1 − 1 is divisible by p, was first mentioned in a letter in 1640. Fermat’s Problem asserts that xn + yn = zn has no solutions in whole numbers for x, y, and z when n is greater than 2.

Fermat was for some time councillor for the parliament of Toulouse, and in the discharge of the duties of that office he was distinguished both for legal knowledge and for strict integrity of conduct. Though the sciences were the principal objects of his private studies, he was also an accomplished general scholar and an excellent linguist. He died at Toulouse on the 12th of January 1665. He left a son, Samuel de Fermat (1630-1690) who published translations of several Greek authors and wrote certain books on law in addition to editing his father’s works.

Fermat served as a councilor for the parliament of Toulouse for a while, and in performing his duties in that role, he was noted for his legal expertise and his strong integrity. While the sciences were his main focus in private study, he was also a well-rounded scholar and an excellent linguist. He passed away in Toulouse on January 12, 1665. He had a son, Samuel de Fermat (1630-1690), who published translations of several Greek authors and wrote books on law, as well as edited his father’s works.

The Opera mathematica of Fermat were published at Toulouse, in 2 vols. folio, 1670 and 1679. The first contains the “Arithmetic of Diophantus,” with notes and additions. The second includes a “Method for the Quadrature of Parabolas,” and a treatise “on Maxima and Minima, on Tangents, and on Centres of Gravity,” containing the same solutions of a variety of problems as were afterwards incorporated into the more extensive method of fluxions by Newton and Leibnitz. In the same volume are treatises on “Geometric Loci, or Spherical Tangencies,” and on the “Rectification of Curves,” besides a restoration of “Apollonius’s Plane Loci,” together with the author’s correspondence addressed to Descartes, Pascal, Roberval, Huygens and others. The Œuvres of Fermat have been re-edited by P. Tannery and C. Henry (Paris, 1891-1894).

The Opera mathematica by Fermat was published in Toulouse, in 2 volumes, folio, in 1670 and 1679. The first volume contains the “Arithmetic of Diophantus,” with notes and additions. The second volume includes a “Method for the Quadrature of Parabolas,” and a treatise “on Maxima and Minima, on Tangents, and on Centers of Gravity,” featuring the same solutions to various problems that were later included in the broader method of fluxions developed by Newton and Leibnitz. This volume also contains treatises on “Geometric Loci, or Spherical Tangencies,” and on the “Rectification of Curves,” as well as a restoration of “Apollonius’s Plane Loci,” along with the author’s correspondence to Descartes, Pascal, Roberval, Huygens, and others. The Œuvres of Fermat have been re-edited by P. Tannery and C. Henry (Paris, 1891-1894).

See Paul Tannery, “Sur la date des principales découvertes de Fermat,” in the Bulletin Darboux (1883); and “Les Manuscrits de Fermat,” in the Annales de la faculté des lettres de Bordeaux.

See Paul Tannery, “On the Date of Fermat's Major Discoveries,” in the Bulletin Darboux (1883); and “The Manuscripts of Fermat,” in the Annales de la faculté des lettres de Bordeaux.


FERMENTATION. The process of fermentation in the preparation of wine, vinegar, beer and bread was known and practised in prehistoric times. The alchemists used the terms fermentation, digestion and putrefaction indiscriminately; any reaction in which chemical energy was displayed in some form or other—such, for instance, as the effervescence occasioned by the addition of an acid to an alkaline solution—was described as a fermentation (Lat. fervere, to boil); and the idea of the “Philosopher’s Stone” setting up a fermentation in the common metals and developing the essence or germ, which should transmute them into silver or gold, further complicated the conception of fermentation. As an outcome of this alchemical doctrine the process of fermentation was supposed to have a purifying and elevating effect on the bodies which had been submitted to its influence. Basil Valentine wrote that when yeast was added to wort “an internal inflammation is communicated to the liquid, so that it raises in itself, and thus the segregation and separation of the feculent from the clear takes place.” Johann Becher, in 1669, first found that alcohol was formed during the fermentation of solutions of sugar; he distinguished also between fermentation and putrefaction. In 1697 Georg Stahl admitted that fermentation and putrefaction were analogous processes, but that the former was a particular case of the latter.

FERMENTATION. The process of fermentation used in making wine, vinegar, beer, and bread has been known and practiced since prehistoric times. Alchemists mixed up the terms fermentation, digestion, and putrefaction; any reaction showing chemical energy in some way—like the fizzing that happens when you add an acid to an alkaline solution—was labeled as fermentation (Lat. fervere, to boil). The concept of the “Philosopher’s Stone” causing a fermentation in common metals to reveal their essence or core, which would turn them into silver or gold, further muddied the definition of fermentation. Because of this alchemical belief, fermentation was thought to purify and elevate the substances that underwent it. Basil Valentine noted that when yeast was added to wort, “an internal inflammation is communicated to the liquid, so that it raises in itself, and thus the segregation and separation of the feculent from the clear takes place.” In 1669, Johann Becher discovered that alcohol is produced during the fermentation of sugar solutions; he also made a distinction between fermentation and putrefaction. In 1697, Georg Stahl acknowledged that fermentation and putrefaction are similar processes, but he argued that fermentation is a specific type of putrefaction.

The beginning of definite knowledge on the phenomenon of fermentation may be dated from the time of Antony Leeuwenhoek, who in 1680 designed a microscope sufficiently powerful to render yeast cells and bacteria visible; and a description of these organisms, accompanied by diagrams, was sent to the Royal Society of London. This investigator just missed a great discovery, for he did not consider the spherical forms to be living organisms but compared them with starch granules. It was not until 1803 that L.J. Thénard stated that yeast was the cause of fermentation, and held it to be of an animal nature, since it contained nitrogen and yielded ammonia on distillation, nor was it conclusively proved that the yeast cell was the originator of fermentation until the researches of C. Cagniard de la Tour, T. Schwann and F. Kützing from 1836 to 1839 settled the point. These investigators regarded yeast as a plant, and Meyer gave to the germs the systematic name of “Saccharomyces” (sugar fungus). In 1839-1840 J. von Liebig attacked the doctrine that fermentation was caused by micro-organisms, and enunciated his theory of mechanical decomposition. He held that every fermentation consisted of molecular motion which is transmitted from a substance in a state of chemical motion—that is, of decomposition—to other substances, the elements of which are loosely held together. It is clear from Liebig’s publications that he first regarded yeast as a lifeless, albuminoid mass; but, although later he considered they were living cells, he would never admit that fermentation was a physiological process, the chemical aspect being paramount in the mind of this distinguished investigator.

The start of clear knowledge about the fermentation process can be traced back to Antony Leeuwenhoek, who in 1680 created a microscope powerful enough to see yeast cells and bacteria. He sent a description of these organisms, along with diagrams, to the Royal Society of London. This researcher nearly made a groundbreaking discovery, as he did not view the spherical forms as living organisms but instead compared them to starch granules. It wasn't until 1803 that L.J. Thénard established that yeast was the cause of fermentation, considering it to have an animal nature because it contained nitrogen and released ammonia when distilled. The notion that the yeast cell initiated fermentation wasn't definitively proven until the work of C. Cagniard de la Tour, T. Schwann, and F. Kützing from 1836 to 1839 clarified this matter. These researchers viewed yeast as a plant, and Meyer assigned the name “Saccharomyces” (sugar fungus) to the germs. In 1839-1840, J. von Liebig challenged the idea that micro-organisms caused fermentation and proposed his theory of mechanical decomposition. He argued that every fermentation involved molecular motion that was transferred from a substance in a state of chemical change—specifically, decomposition—to other substances whose elements were loosely bonded. Liebig's publications clearly show that he initially saw yeast as a lifeless, albuminoid mass; however, although he later acknowledged that they were living cells, he never accepted that fermentation was a physiological process, prioritizing the chemical aspect in his thinking as a distinguished investigator.

In 1857 Pasteur decisively proved that fermentation was a physiological process, for he showed that the yeast which produced fermentation was no dead mass, as assumed by Liebig, but consisted of living organisms capable of growth and multiplication. His own words are: “The chemical action of fermentation is essentially a correlative phenomenon of a vital act, beginning and ending with it. I think that there is never any alcoholic fermentation without there being at the same time organization, development and multiplication of globules, or the continued consecutive life of globules already formed.” Fermentation, according to Pasteur, was caused by the growth and multiplication of unicellular organisms out of contact with free oxygen, under which circumstance they acquire the power of taking oxygen from chemical compounds in the medium in which they are growing. In other words “fermentation is life without air, or life without oxygen.” This theory of fermentation was materially modified in 1892 and 1894 by A.J. Brown, who described experiments which were in disagreement with Pasteur’s dictum. A.J. Brown writes: “If for the theory ’life without air’ is substituted the consideration that yeast cells can use oxygen in the manner of ordinary aërobic fungi, and probably do require it for the full completion of their life-history, but that the exhibition of their fermentative functions is independent of their environment with regard to free oxygen, it will be found that there is nothing contradictory in Pasteur’s experiments to such a hypothesis.”

In 1857, Pasteur clearly demonstrated that fermentation is a physiological process. He revealed that the yeast responsible for fermentation was not just a lifeless substance, as Liebig believed, but rather made up of living organisms that could grow and multiply. He stated, “The chemical reaction of fermentation is primarily a connected phenomenon of a vital act, starting and finishing with it. I believe that alcoholic fermentation never occurs without simultaneously involving the organization, development, and multiplication of cells, or the ongoing life of cells that already exist.” According to Pasteur, fermentation happens due to the growth and multiplication of unicellular organisms in the absence of free oxygen, allowing them to draw oxygen from the chemical compounds in their environment. In simpler terms, “fermentation is life without air, or life without oxygen.” This theory of fermentation saw significant revisions in 1892 and 1894 by A.J. Brown, who presented experiments that contradicted Pasteur’s assertion. A.J. Brown stated: “If we replace the theory of 'life without air' with the idea that yeast cells can utilize oxygen like typical aerobic fungi, and likely need it for the full development of their life cycle, but that their ability to ferment is not dependent on the presence of free oxygen, it becomes clear that there is no contradiction in Pasteur’s experiments in relation to this hypothesis.”

Liebig and Pasteur were in agreement on the point that fermentation is intimately connected with the presence of yeast in the fermenting liquid, but their explanations concerning the mechanism of fermentation were quite opposed. According to M. Traube (1858), the active cause of fermentation is due to the action of different enzymes contained in yeast and not to the yeast cell itself. As will be seen later this theory was confirmed by subsequent researches of E. Fischer and E. Buchner.

Liebig and Pasteur both agreed that fermentation is closely linked to the presence of yeast in the fermenting liquid, but they had very different explanations regarding how fermentation works. According to M. Traube (1858), the main cause of fermentation comes from the different enzymes found in yeast, not the yeast cell itself. Later, this theory was supported by further research from E. Fischer and E. Buchner.

In 1879 C. Nägeli formulated his well-known molecular-physical theory, which supported Liebig’s chemical theory on the one hand and Pasteur’s physiological hypothesis on the 276 other: “Fermentation is the transference of the condition of motion of the molecules, atomic groups and atoms of the various compounds constituting the living plasma, to the fermenting material, in consequence of which equilibrium in the molecules of the latter is destroyed, the result being their disintegration.” He agreed with Pasteur that the presence of living cells is essential to the transformation of sugar into alcohol, but dissented from the view that the process occurs within the cell. This investigator held that the decomposition of the sugar molecules takes place outside the cell wall. In 1894 and 1895, Fischer, in a remarkable series of papers on the influence of molecular structure upon the action of the enzyme, showed that various species of yeast behave very differently towards solutions of sugars. For example, some species hydrolyse cane sugar and maltose, and then carry on fermentation at the expense of the simple sugars (hexoses) so formed. Saccharomyces Marxianus will not hydrolyse maltose, but it does attack cane sugar and ferment the products of hydrolysis. Fischer next suggested that enzymes can only hydrolyse those sugars which possess a molecular structure in harmony with their own, or to use his ingenious analogy, “the one may be said to fit into the other as a key fits into a lock.” The preference exhibited by yeast cells for sugar molecules is shared by mould fungi and soluble enzymes in their fermentative actions. Thus, Pasteur showed that Penicillium glaucum, when grown in an aqueous solution of ammonium racemate, decomposed the dextro-tartrate, leaving the laevo-tartrate, and the solution which was originally inactive to polarized light became dextro-rotatory. Fischer found that the enzyme “invertase,” which is present in yeast, attacks methyl-d-glucoside but not methyl-l-glucoside.

In 1879, C. Nägeli developed his well-known molecular-physical theory, which supported Liebig’s chemical theory on one hand and Pasteur’s physiological hypothesis on the other: “Fermentation is the transfer of the motion of the molecules, atomic groups, and atoms of the various compounds that make up the living plasma to the fermenting material, causing the balance in the molecules of the latter to be disrupted, which leads to their breakdown.” He agreed with Pasteur that living cells are essential for converting sugar into alcohol, but disagreed with the idea that this process happens inside the cell. This researcher believed that the breakdown of sugar molecules occurs outside the cell wall. In 1894 and 1895, Fischer published a remarkable series of papers on how molecular structure influences enzyme action, demonstrating that different species of yeast react very differently to sugar solutions. For instance, some species hydrolyze cane sugar and maltose, then continue fermentation using the simple sugars (hexoses) produced. *Saccharomyces Marxianus* won’t hydrolyze maltose, but it will attack cane sugar and ferment the hydrolysis products. Fischer then proposed that enzymes can only hydrolyze sugars that have a molecular structure matching their own, using his clever analogy that “one fits into the other like a key fits into a lock.” The preference shown by yeast cells for sugar molecules is also found in mold fungi and soluble enzymes during fermentation. Thus, Pasteur demonstrated that *Penicillium glaucum*, when grown in an aqueous ammonium racemate solution, broke down the dextro-tartrate, leaving the laevo-tartrate, and the solution, which was initially inactive to polarized light, became dextro-rotatory. Fischer discovered that the enzyme “invertase,” which is found in yeast, attacks methyl-*d*-glucoside but not methyl-*l*-glucoside.

In 1897 Buchner submitted yeast to great pressure, and isolated a nitrogenous substance, enzymic in character, which he termed “zymase.” This body is being continually formed in the yeast cell, and decomposes the sugar which has diffused into the cell. The freshly-expressed yeast juice causes concentrated solutions of cane sugar, glucose, laevulose and maltose to ferment with the production of alcohol and carbon dioxide, but not milk-sugar and mannose. In this respect the plasma behaves in a similar manner towards the sugars as does the living yeast cell. Pasteur found that, when cane sugar was fermented by yeast, 49.4% of carbonic acid and 51.1% of alcohol were produced; with expressed yeast juice cane sugar yields 47% of carbonic acid and 47.7% of alcohol. According to Buchner the fermentative activity of yeast-cell juice is not due to the presence of living yeast cells, or to the action of living yeast protoplasm, but it is caused by a soluble enzyme. A. Macfadyen, G.H. Morris and S. Rowland, in repeating Buchner’s experiments, found that zymase possessed properties differing from all other enzymes, thus: dilution with twice its volume of water practically destroys the fermentative power of the yeast juice. These investigators considered that differences of this nature cannot be explained by the theory that it is a soluble enzyme, which brings about the alcoholic fermentation of sugar. The remarkable discoveries of Fischer and Buchner to a great extent confirm Traube’s views, and reconcile Liebig’s and Pasteur’s theories. Although the action of zymase may be regarded as mechanical, the enzyme cannot be produced by any other than living protoplasm.

In 1897, Buchner subjected yeast to high pressure and isolated a nitrogenous substance that had enzymatic properties, which he named “zymase.” This substance is continuously formed in the yeast cell and breaks down the sugar that has entered the cell. Freshly pressed yeast juice causes concentrated solutions of cane sugar, glucose, fructose, and maltose to ferment, producing alcohol and carbon dioxide, but it does not affect milk sugar or mannose. In this regard, the plasma behaves similarly to the living yeast cell in its interaction with sugars. Pasteur discovered that when yeast ferments cane sugar, it produces 49.4% carbon dioxide and 51.1% alcohol; with expressed yeast juice, cane sugar yields 47% carbon dioxide and 47.7% alcohol. According to Buchner, the fermentative activity of yeast cell juice doesn't come from living yeast cells or the action of living yeast protoplasm, but is instead caused by a soluble enzyme. A. Macfadyen, G.H. Morris, and S. Rowland, in repeating Buchner’s experiments, found that zymase had properties different from all other enzymes; for example, diluting it with twice its volume of water almost completely destroys the fermentative power of the yeast juice. These researchers believed that such differences cannot be explained by the theory that it is a soluble enzyme responsible for the alcoholic fermentation of sugar. The remarkable discoveries of Fischer and Buchner largely support Traube’s views and reconcile the theories of Liebig and Pasteur. Although the action of zymase may be seen as mechanical, the enzyme can only be produced by living protoplasm.

Pasteur’s important researches mark an epoch in the technical aspect of fermentation. His investigations on vinegar-making revolutionized that industry, and he showed how, instead of waiting two or three months for the elaboration of the process, the vinegar could be made in eight or ten days by exposing the vats containing the mixture of wine and vinegar to a temperature of 20° to 25° C., and sowing with a small quantity of the acetic organism. To the study of the life-history of the butyric and acetic organisms we owe the terms “anaërobic” and “aërobic.” His researches from 1860 and onwards on the then vexed question of spontaneous generation proved that, in all cases where spontaneous generation appeared to have taken place, some defect or other was in the experiment. Although the direct object of Pasteur was to prove a negative, yet it was on these experiments that sterilization as known to us was developed. It is only necessary to bear in mind the great part played by sterilization in the laboratory, and pasteurization on the fermentation industries and in the preservation of food materials. Pasteur first formulated the idea that bacteria are responsible for the diseases of fermented liquids; the corollary of this was a demand for pure yeast. He recommended that yeast should be purified by cultivating it in a solution of sugar containing tartaric acid, or, in wort containing a small quantity of phenol. It was not recognized that many of the diseases of fermented liquids are occasioned by foreign yeasts; moreover, this process, as was shown later by Hansen, favours the development of foreign yeasts at the expense of the good yeast.

Pasteur’s crucial research marks a significant turning point in the technical aspect of fermentation. His studies on vinegar production transformed that industry, demonstrating that instead of taking two or three months to complete the process, vinegar could be made in eight to ten days by exposing the vats containing the wine and vinegar mixture to a temperature of 20° to 25° C., and adding a small amount of the acetic bacteria. Through the study of the life cycle of butyric and acetic bacteria, we gained the terms “anaerobic” and “aerobic.” His research from 1860 onwards on the controversial topic of spontaneous generation showed that whenever spontaneous generation seemed to occur, there was some flaw in the experiment. While Pasteur's primary goal was to prove a negative, it was through these experiments that the concept of sterilization, as we know it today, was developed. It’s important to remember the significant role sterilization plays in the laboratory, as well as pasteurization in the fermentation industry and food preservation. Pasteur was the first to propose that bacteria are responsible for the diseases of fermented liquids; this led to a call for pure yeast. He advised that yeast should be purified by growing it in a sugar solution with tartaric acid, or in wort with a small amount of phenol. At the time, it wasn’t understood that many diseases of fermented liquids are caused by foreign yeasts; moreover, this method, as later shown by Hansen, encourages the growth of foreign yeasts at the expense of beneficial yeast.

About this time Hansen, who had long been engaged in researches on the biology of the fungi of fermentation, demonstrated that yeast free from bacteria could nevertheless occasion diseases in beer. This discovery was of great importance to the zymo-technical industries, for it showed that bacteria are not the only undesirable organisms which may occur in yeast. Hansen set himself the task of studying the properties of the varieties of yeast, and to do this he had to cultivate each variety in a pure state. Having found that some of the commonest diseases of beer, such as yeast turbidity and the objectionable changes in flavour, were caused not by bacteria but by certain species of yeast, and, further, that different species of good brewery yeast would produce beers of different character, Hansen argued that the pitching yeast should consist only of a single species—namely, that best suited to the brewery in question. These views met with considerable opposition, but in 1890 Professor E. Duclaux stated that the yeast question as regards low fermentation has been solved by Hansen’s investigations. He emphasized the opinion that yeast derived from one cell was of no good for top fermentation, and advocated Pasteur’s method of purification. But in the course of time, notwithstanding many criticisms and objections, the reform spread from bottom fermentation to top fermentation breweries on the continent and in America. In the United Kingdom the employment of brewery yeasts selected from a single cell has not come into general use; it may probably be accounted for in a great measure by conservatism and the wrong application of Hansen’s theories.

Around this time, Hansen, who had been researching the biology of fermentation fungi for a long time, showed that yeast free from bacteria could still cause diseases in beer. This discovery was significant for the zymo-technical industries because it revealed that bacteria aren't the only unwanted organisms that can be found in yeast. Hansen committed himself to studying the properties of different yeast varieties, which required him to cultivate each type in a pure state. He discovered that some of the most common beer diseases, like yeast turbidity and undesirable flavor changes, were caused not by bacteria but by certain yeast species. Additionally, he found that various good brewery yeasts could produce beers with different characteristics. Hansen argued that the yeast added to the brew should consist of only one species—specifically, the one best suited for that brewery. His ideas faced considerable opposition, but in 1890, Professor E. Duclaux stated that Hansen’s research had resolved the yeast issue concerning low fermentation. He highlighted that yeast from a single cell was not effective for top fermentation and supported Pasteur’s purification method. Over time, despite numerous criticisms and objections, this reform spread from bottom fermentation to top fermentation breweries in Europe and America. In the United Kingdom, however, the use of brewery yeasts selected from a single cell has not become widespread; this is likely due to conservatism and a misunderstanding of Hansen’s theories.

Pure Cultivation of Yeasts.—The methods which were first adopted by Hansen for obtaining pure cultures of yeast were similar in principle to one devised by J. Lister for isolating a pure culture of lactic acid bacterium. Lister determined the number of bacteria present in a drop of the liquid under examination by counting, and then diluted this with a sufficient quantity of sterilized water so that each drop of the mixture should contain, on an average, less than one bacterium. A number of flasks containing a nutrient medium were each inoculated with one drop of this mixture; it was found that some remained sterile, and Lister assumed that the remaining flasks each contained a pure culture. This method did not give very certain results, for it could not be guaranteed that the growth in the inoculated flask was necessarily derived from a single bacterium. Hansen counted the number of yeast cells suspended in a drop of liquid diluted with sterilized water. A volume of the diluted yeast was introduced into flasks containing sterilized wort, the degree of dilution being such that only a small proportion of the flasks became infected. The flasks were then well shaken, and the yeast cell or cells settled to the bottom, and gave rise to a separate yeast speck. Only those cultures which contained a single yeast speck were assumed to be pure cultivations. By this method several races of Saccharomycetes and brewery yeasts were isolated and described.

Pure Cultivation of Yeasts.—The methods that Hansen first used to obtain pure cultures of yeast were similar to a technique developed by J. Lister for isolating a pure culture of lactic acid bacteria. Lister counted the number of bacteria in a drop of the liquid being examined and then diluted it with enough sterilized water so that each drop of the mixture had, on average, less than one bacterium. He inoculated several flasks containing a nutrient medium with one drop of this mixture; it turned out that some flasks stayed sterile, and Lister assumed that the others each contained a pure culture. This method did not provide very reliable results, as it couldn't be guaranteed that the growth in the inoculated flask came from a single bacterium. Hansen counted the number of yeast cells in a drop of liquid diluted with sterilized water. He added a volume of the diluted yeast to flasks with sterilized wort, ensuring that only a small number of the flasks became infected. The flasks were then shaken well, and the yeast cells settled to the bottom, resulting in a separate yeast speck. Only cultures that contained a single yeast speck were considered to be pure cultivations. Using this method, several strains of Saccharomycetes and brewery yeasts were isolated and described.

The next important advance was the substitution of solid for liquid media; due originally to Schroter. R. Koch subsequently improved the method. He introduced bacteria into liquid sterile nutrient gelatin. After being well shaken, the liquid was poured into a sterile glass Petrie dish and covered with a moist and sterile bell-jar. It was assumed that each separate speck contained a pure culture. Hansen pointed out that this 277 was by no means the case, for it is more difficult to separate the cells from each other in the gelatin than in the liquid. To obtain an absolutely pure culture with certainty it is necessary, even when the gelatin method is employed, to start from a single cell. To effect this some of the nutrient gelatin containing yeast cells is placed on the under-surface of the cover-glass of the moist chamber. Those cells are accurately marked, the position of which is such that the colonies, to which they give rise, can grow to their full size without coming into contact with other colonies. The growth of the marked cells is kept under observation for three or four days, by which time the colonies will be large enough to be taken out of the chamber and placed in flasks. The contents of the flasks can then be introduced into larger flasks, and finally into an apparatus suitable for making enough yeast for technical purposes. Such, in brief, are the methods devised by that brilliant investigator Hansen; and these methods have not only been the basis on which our modern knowledge of the Saccharomycetes is founded, but are the only means of attack which the present-day observer has at his disposal.

The next major breakthrough was switching from liquid to solid media, originally developed by Schroter. R. Koch later improved the technique. He introduced bacteria into sterile liquid nutrient gelatin. After thoroughly shaking it, the liquid was poured into a sterile glass Petri dish and covered with a moist and sterile bell jar. It was believed that each separate speck contained a pure culture. However, Hansen pointed out that this was not necessarily true, as it is harder to separate the cells from one another in gelatin than in liquid. To reliably obtain a completely pure culture, even when using the gelatin method, it’s essential to start from a single cell. To do this, some of the nutrient gelatin containing yeast cells is placed on the underside of the cover glass in the moist chamber. The cells are carefully marked so that the colonies they form can grow to full size without touching other colonies. The growth of the marked cells is observed for three to four days, by which time the colonies will be large enough to be removed from the chamber and placed in flasks. The contents of these flasks can then be transferred to larger flasks, and ultimately into a system designed to produce enough yeast for industrial use. Briefly, these are the methods developed by the brilliant researcher Hansen; these methods not only form the foundation of our current understanding of the Saccharomycetes, but are also the only approaches available to modern researchers.

From the foregoing it will be seen that the term fermentation has now a much wider significance than when it was applied to such changes as the decomposition of must or wort with the production of carbon dioxide and alcohol. Fermentation now includes all changes in organic compounds brought about by ferments elaborated in the living animal or vegetable cell. There are two distinct types of fermentation: (1) those brought about by living organisms (organized ferments), and (2) those brought about by non-living or unorganized ferments (enzymes). The first class include such changes as the alcoholic fermentation of sugar solutions, the acetic acid fermentation of alcohol, the lactic acid fermentation of milk sugar, and the putrefaction of animal and vegetable nitrogenous matter. The second class include all changes brought about by the agency of enzymes, such as the action of diastase on starch, invertase on cane sugar, glucase on maltose, &c. The actions are essentially hydrolytic.

From the above, it’s clear that the term fermentation now has a much broader meaning than when it was first used to describe processes like the breakdown of must or wort, which produced carbon dioxide and alcohol. Today, fermentation encompasses all changes in organic compounds caused by substances produced in living animal or plant cells. There are two distinct types of fermentation: (1) those caused by living organisms (organized ferments) and (2) those caused by non-living or unorganized ferments (enzymes). The first category includes changes like the alcoholic fermentation of sugar solutions, the acetic acid fermentation of alcohol, the lactic acid fermentation of milk sugar, and the decomposition of nitrogenous materials from animals and plants. The second category includes all changes induced by enzymes, such as the action of diastase on starch, invertase on cane sugar, glucase on maltose, etc. These actions are essentially hydrolytic.

Biological Aspect of Yeast.—The Saccharomycetes belong to that division of the Thallophyta called the Hyphomycetes or Fungi (q.v.). Two great divisions are recognized in the Fungi: (i.) the Phycomycetes or Algal Fungi, which retain a definitely sexual method of reproduction as well as asexual (vegetative) methods, and (ii.) the Mycomycetes, characterized by extremely reduced or very doubtful sexual reproduction. The Mycomycetes may be divided as follows: (A) forms bearing both sporangia and conidia (see Fungi), (B) forms bearing conidia only, e.g. the common mushroom. Division A comprises (a) the true Ascomycetes, of which the moulds Eurotium and Penicillium are examples, and (b) the Hemiasci, which includes the yeasts. The gradual disappearance of the sexual method of reproduction, as we pass upwards in the fungi from the points of their departure from the Algae, is an important fact, the last traces of sexuality apparently disappearing in the ascomycetes.

Biological Aspect of Yeast. — The Saccharomycetes are part of the group within the Thallophyta known as the Hyphomycetes or Fungi (q.v.). There are two main divisions recognized in the Fungi: (i.) the Phycomycetes or Algal Fungi, which still utilize both sexual and asexual (vegetative) methods of reproduction, and (ii.) the Mycomycetes, which are defined by very limited or uncertain sexual reproduction. The Mycomycetes can be classified as follows: (A) forms that produce both sporangia and conidia (see Fungi), (B) forms that produce only conidia, e.g. the common mushroom. Division A includes (a) the true Ascomycetes, with examples being the moulds Eurotium and Penicillium, and (b) the Hemiasci, which contains the yeasts. The progressive loss of sexual reproduction as we move up the fungal classification from their common origins with the Algae is significant, with the last signs of sexuality seemingly vanishing in the ascomycetes.

With certain rare exceptions the Saccharomycetes have three methods of asexual reproduction:—

With a few rare exceptions, Saccharomycetes have three ways of reproducing asexually:—

1. The most common.—The formation of buds which separate to form new cells. A portion of the nucleus of the parent cell makes its way through the extremely narrow neck into the daughter cell. This method obtains when yeast is vigorously fermenting a saccharine solution.

1. The most common.—The process of buds forming and splitting off to create new cells. A part of the parent cell's nucleus moves through the very narrow neck into the new daughter cell. This method occurs when yeast is actively fermenting a sugary solution.

2. A division by fission followed by Endogenous spore formation, characteristic of the Schizosaccharomycetes. Some species show fermentative power.

2. A division by fission followed by the formation of internal spores, typical of the Schizosaccharomycetes. Some species exhibit fermentation capabilities.

3. Endospore formation, the conditions for which are as follows: (1) suitable temperature, (2) presence of air, (3) presence of moisture, (4) young and vigorous cells, (5) a food supply in the case of one species at least is necessary, and is in no case prejudicial. In some cases a sexual act would appear to precede spore formation. In most cases four spores are formed within the cell by free formation. These may readily be seen after appropriate staining.

3. Endospore formation happens under the following conditions: (1) a suitable temperature, (2) the presence of air, (3) moisture availability, (4) young and active cells, and (5) a food source is necessary for at least one species and is never harmful. In some instances, a sexual act seems to occur before spore formation. Typically, four spores are created within the cell through free formation. These can easily be observed after proper staining.

In some of the true Ascomycetes, such as Penicillium glaucum, the conidia if grown in saccharine solutions, which they have the power of fermenting, develop single cell yeast-like forms, and do not—at any rate for a time—produce again the characteristic branching mycelium. This is known as the Torula condition. It is supposed by some that Saccharomyces is a very degraded Ascomycete, in which the Torula condition has become fixed.

In some true Ascomycetes, like Penicillium glaucum, when conidia are grown in sugary solutions, which they can ferment, they develop single-cell yeast-like forms and do not—at least for a while—produce the typical branching mycelium again. This is called the Torula condition. Some believe that Saccharomyces is a significantly evolved Ascomycete, in which the Torula condition has become permanent.

The yeast plant and its allies are saprophytes and form no chlorophyll. Their extreme reduction in form and loss of sexuality may be correlated with the saprophytic habit, the proteids and other organic material required for the growth and reproduction being appropriated ready synthesized, the plant having entirely lost the power of forming them for itself, as evidenced by the absence of chlorophyll. The beer yeast S. cerevisiae, is never found wild, but the wine yeasts occur abundantly in the soil of vineyards, and so are always present on the fruit, ready to ferment the expressed juice.

The yeast plant and its related species are saprophytes and do not produce chlorophyll. Their drastic reduction in form and loss of sexual reproduction might be linked to their saprophytic nature, as they take in proteins and other organic materials needed for growth and reproduction, which are already synthesized for them. The plant has completely lost the ability to produce these substances on its own, as shown by the lack of chlorophyll. The beer yeast S. cerevisiae is never found in the wild, but the wine yeasts are commonly found in vineyard soil, so they are always present on the fruit, ready to ferment the extracted juice.

Chemical Aspect of Alcoholic Fermentation.—Lavoisier was the first investigator to study fermentation from a quantitative standpoint. He determined the percentages of carbon, hydrogen and oxygen in the sugar and in the products of fermentation, and concluded that sugar in fermenting breaks up into alcohol, carbonic acid and acetic acid. The elementary composition of sugar and alcohol was fixed in 1815 by analyses made by Gay-Lussac, Thénard and de Saussure. The first-mentioned chemist proposed the following formula to represent the change which takes place when sugar is fermented:—

Chemical Aspect of Alcoholic Fermentation.—Lavoisier was the first researcher to examine fermentation from a quantitative perspective. He measured the percentages of carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen in sugar and the fermentation products, concluding that sugar during fermentation breaks down into alcohol, carbon dioxide, and acetic acid. The basic composition of sugar and alcohol was established in 1815 through analyses conducted by Gay-Lussac, Thénard, and de Saussure. The first chemist mentioned proposed the following formula to illustrate the change that occurs when sugar ferments:—

C6H12O6   =   2CO2   +   2C2H6O.
Sugar. Carbon dioxide. Alcohol.

This formula substantially holds good to the present day, although a number of definite bodies other than carbon dioxide and alcohol occur in small and varying quantities, according to the conditions of the fermentation and the medium fermented. Prominent among these are glycerin and succinic acid. In this connexion Pasteur showed that 100 parts of cane sugar on inversion gave 105.4 parts of invert sugar, which, when fermented, yielded 51.1 parts alcohol, 49.4 carbonic acid, 0.7 succinic acid, 3.2 glycerin and 1.0 unestimated. A. Béchamp and E. Duclaux found that acetic acid is formed in small quantities during fermentation; aldehyde has also been detected. The higher alcohols such as propyl, isobutyl, amyl, capryl, oenanthyl and caproyl, have been identified; and the amount of these vary according to the different conditions of the fermentation. A number of esters are also produced. The characteristic flavour and odour of wines and spirits is dependent on the proportion of higher alcohols, aldehydes and esters which may be produced.

This formula is still relevant today, although there are several specific substances besides carbon dioxide and alcohol that appear in small and varying amounts, depending on the conditions of the fermentation and the medium being fermented. Among these are glycerin and succinic acid. In this context, Pasteur demonstrated that 100 parts of cane sugar, when inverted, produced 105.4 parts of invert sugar, which, when fermented, yielded 51.1 parts alcohol, 49.4 parts carbonic acid, 0.7 parts succinic acid, 3.2 parts glycerin, and 1.0 part unmeasured. A. Béchamp and E. Duclaux discovered that acetic acid is formed in small quantities during fermentation; aldehyde has also been found. Higher alcohols such as propyl, isobutyl, amyl, capryl, oenanthyl, and caproyl have been identified, and the amounts of these vary based on different fermentation conditions. Several esters are also produced. The distinct flavor and aroma of wines and spirits depend on the balance of higher alcohols, aldehydes, and esters that may be produced.

Certain yeasts exercise a reducing action, forming sulphuretted hydrogen, when sulphur is present. The “stinking fermentations” occasionally experienced in breweries probably arise from this, the free sulphur being derived from the hops. Other yeasts are stated to form sulphurous acid in must and wort. Another fact of considerable technical importance is, that the various races of yeast show considerable differences in the amount and proportion of fermentation products other than ethyl alcohol and carbonic acid which they produce. From these remarks it will be clear that to employ the most suitable kind of yeast for a given alcoholic fermentation is of fundamental importance in certain industries. It is beyond the scope of the present article to attempt to describe the different forms of budding fungi (Saccharomyces), mould fungi and bacteria which are capable of fermenting sugar solutions. Thus, six species isolated by Hansen, Saccharomyces cerevisiae, S. Pasteurianus I.,1 II., III., and S. ellipsoideus, contained invertase and maltase, and can invert and subsequently ferment cane sugar and maltose. S. exiguus and S. Ludwigii contain only invertase and not maltase, and therefore ferment cane sugar but not maltose. S. apiculatus (a common wine yeast) contains neither of these enzymes, and only ferments solutions of glucose or laevulose.

Certain yeasts have a reducing effect and produce hydrogen sulfide when sulfur is present. The occasional “stinking fermentations” seen in breweries likely result from this, with the free sulfur coming from the hops. Other yeasts are said to produce sulfurous acid in must and wort. A significant technical detail is that different strains of yeast show notable variations in the types and amounts of fermentation byproducts produced beyond just ethanol and carbon dioxide. From this, it's clear that choosing the right type of yeast for a specific alcoholic fermentation is crucial in certain industries. This article doesn’t aim to describe the different types of budding fungi (Saccharomyces), mold fungi, and bacteria that can ferment sugar solutions. For instance, six species identified by Hansen, Saccharomyces cerevisiae, S. Pasteurianus I., II., III., and S. ellipsoideus, contain invertase and maltase, allowing them to invert and then ferment cane sugar and maltose. S. exiguus and S. Ludwigii have only invertase, which means they can ferment cane sugar but not maltose. S. apiculatus (a common wine yeast) contains neither enzyme and only ferments glucose or fructose solutions.

Previously to Hansen’s work the only way of differentiating 278 yeasts was by studying morphological differences with the aid of the microscope. Max Reess distinguished the species according to the appearance of the cells thus, the ellipsoidal cells were designated Saccharomyces ellipsoideus, the sausage-shaped Saccharomyces Pasteurianus, and so on. It was found by Hansen that the same species of yeast can assume different shapes; and it therefore became necessary to determine how the different varieties of yeast could be distinguished with certainty. The formation of spores in yeast (first discovered by T. Schwann in 1839) was studied by Hansen, who found that each species only developed spores between certain definite temperatures. The time taken for spore formation varies greatly; thus, at 52° F., S. cerevisiae takes 10, S. Pasteurianus I. and II. about 4, S. Pasteurianus III. about 7, and S. ellipsoideus about 4½ days. The formation of spores is used as an analytical method for determining whether a yeast is contaminated with another species,—for example: a sample of yeast is placed on a gypsum or porcelain block saturated with water; if in ten days at a temperature of 52° F. no spores make their appearance, the yeast in question may be regarded as S. cerevisiae, and not associated with S. Pasteurianus or S. ellipsoideus.

Before Hansen's work, the only way to differentiate yeasts was by examining their morphological differences under a microscope. Max Reess classified the species based on cell appearance: the ellipsoidal cells were called Saccharomyces ellipsoideus, the sausage-shaped ones Saccharomyces Pasteurianus, and so forth. Hansen discovered that the same species of yeast could take on different shapes, which made it essential to find a reliable way to distinguish the various yeast varieties. He studied spore formation in yeast, first discovered by T. Schwann in 1839, and found that each species only produced spores at specific temperatures. The time it takes for spore formation can vary significantly; for instance, at 52° F., S. cerevisiae takes about 10 days, S. Pasteurianus I and II take roughly 4 days, S. Pasteurianus III takes about 7 days, and S. ellipsoideus takes around 4½ days. Spore formation is used as an analytical method to determine if a yeast is contaminated with another species. For example, if a yeast sample is placed on a gypsum or porcelain block saturated with water and, after ten days at 52° F., no spores appear, that yeast can be identified as S. cerevisiae, and not associated with S. Pasteurianus or S. ellipsoideus.

The formation of films on fermented liquids is a well-known phenomenon and common to all micro-organisms. A free still surface with a direct access of air are the necessary conditions. Hansen showed that the microscopic appearance of film cells of the same species of Saccharomycetes varies according to the temperature of growth; the limiting temperatures of film formation, as well as the time of its appearance for the different species, also vary.

The formation of films on fermented liquids is a well-known phenomenon that occurs with all microorganisms. A free, still surface with direct access to air are the necessary conditions. Hansen demonstrated that the microscopic appearance of film cells of the same species of Saccharomycetes changes based on the growth temperature; the limiting temperatures for film formation and the timing of its appearance for different species also vary.

In the zymo-technical industries the various species of yeast exhibit different actions during fermentations. A well-known instance of this is the “top” and “bottom” brewery fermentations (see Brewing). In a top fermentation—typical of English breweries—the yeast rises, in a bottom fermentation, as the phrase implies, it settles in the vessel. Sometimes a bottom yeast may for a time exhibit signs of a top fermentation. It has not, however, been possible to transform a typical top yeast into a permanent typical bottom yeast. There appear to be no true distinctive characteristics for these two types. Their selection for a particular purpose depends upon some special quality which they possess; thus for brewing certain essentials are demanded as regards stability, clarification, taste and smell; whereas, in distilleries, the production of alcohol and a high multiplying power in the yeast are required. Culture yeasts have also been successfully employed in the manufacture of wine and cider. By the judicious selection of a type of yeast it is possible to improve the bouquet, and from an inferior must obtain a better wine or cider than would otherwise be produced.

In the brewing industries, different types of yeast behave differently during fermentation. A well-known example is the "top" and "bottom" fermentation (see Brewing). In top fermentation—common in English breweries—the yeast rises to the top, while in bottom fermentation, it settles at the bottom of the vessel. Sometimes, bottom yeast may temporarily show signs of top fermentation. However, it's not possible to permanently change a typical top yeast into a typical bottom yeast. There don't seem to be clear distinguishing features for these two types. The choice for a specific purpose relies on some special quality they have; for brewing, certain essentials are needed in terms of stability, clarity, taste, and aroma, while in distilleries, the focus is on alcohol production and high yeast reproduction rates. Cultured yeasts have also been effectively used in making wine and cider. By carefully selecting a type of yeast, it's possible to enhance the flavor and produce a better wine or cider from a lower-quality base than would otherwise be achievable.

Certain acid fermentations are of common occurrence. The Bacterium acidi lacti described by Pasteur decomposes milk sugar into lactic acid. Bacillus amylobacter usually accompanies the lactic acid organism, and decomposes lactic and other higher acids with formation of butyric acid. Moulds have been isolated which occasion the formation of citric acid from glucose. The production of acetic acid from alcohol has received much attention at the hands of investigators, and it has an important technical aspect in the manufacture of vinegar. The phenomenon of nitrification (see Bacteriology, Agriculture and Manure), i.e. the formation of nitrites and nitrates from ammonia and its compounds in the soil, was formerly held to be a purely chemical process, until Schloesing and Müntz suggested in 1877 that it was biological. It is now known that the action takes place in two stages; the ammonium salt is first oxidized to the nitrite stage and subsequently to the nitrate.

Certain acid fermentations are quite common. The Bacterium acidi lacti described by Pasteur breaks down milk sugar into lactic acid. Bacillus amylobacter usually works alongside the lactic acid bacteria and breaks down lactic and other higher acids into butyric acid. Molds have been identified that cause the formation of citric acid from glucose. The production of acetic acid from alcohol has garnered a lot of attention from researchers, and it plays an important role in vinegar production. The process of nitrification (see Bacteriology, Agriculture and Manure), that is, the formation of nitrites and nitrates from ammonia and its compounds in the soil, was once thought to be purely a chemical process, until Schloesing and Müntz suggested in 1877 that it was biological. It is now understood that this action occurs in two stages; the ammonium salt is first oxidized to nitrite and then to nitrate.

(J. L. B.)

1 Hansen found there were three species of spore-bearing Saccharomycetes and that these could be subdivided into varieties. Thus, S. cerevisiae I., S. cerevisiae II., S. Pasteurianus I., &c.

1 Hansen discovered three species of spore-producing Saccharomycetes that could be further divided into varieties. So, we have S. cerevisiae I., S. cerevisiae II., S. Pasteurianus I., etc.


FERMO (anc. Firmum Picenum), a town and archiepiscopal see of the Marches, Italy, in the province of Ascoli Piceno, on a hill with a fine view, 1046 ft. above sea-level, on a branch from Porto S. Giorgio on the Adriatic coast railway. Pop. (1901) town, 16,577, commune 20,542. The summit of the hill was occupied by the citadel until 1446. It is crowned by the cathedral, reconstructed in 1227 by Giorgio da Como; the fine façade and campanile of this period still remain, and the side portal is good; the beautiful rose-window over the main door dates from 1348. In the porch are several good tombs, including one of 1366 by Tura da Imola, and also the modern monument of Giuseppe Colucci, a famous writer on the antiquities of Picenum. The interior has been modernized. The building is now surrounded by a garden, with a splendid view. Against the side of the hill was built the Roman theatre; scanty traces of an amphitheatre also exist. Remains of the city wall, of rectangular blocks of hard limestone, may be seen just outside the Porta S. Francesco; whether the walling under the Casa Porti belongs to them is doubtful. The medieval battlemented walls superposed on it are picturesque. The church of S. Francesco has a good tower and choir in brickwork of 1240, the rest having been restored in the 17th century. Under the Dominican monastery is a very large Roman reservoir in two storeys, belonging to the imperial period, divided into many chambers, at least 24 on each level, each 30 by 20 ft., for filtration (see G. de Minicis in Annali dell’ Istituto, 1846, p. 46; 1858, p. 125). The piazza contains the Palazzo Comunale, restored in 1446, with a statue of Pope Sixtus V. in front of it. The Biblioteca Comunale contains a collection of inscriptions and antiquities. Porto S. Giorgio has a fine castle of 1269, blocking the valley which leads to Fermo.

FERMO (formerly Firmum Picenum), is a town and archiepiscopal see in the Marches region of Italy, located in the province of Ascoli Piceno, on a hill that offers a great view, 1,046 ft above sea level, accessible via a branch from Porto S. Giorgio on the Adriatic coast railway. The population in 1901 was 16,577 for the town and 20,542 for the commune. The top of the hill was home to a citadel until 1446. The cathedral, rebuilt in 1227 by Giorgio da Como, sits at the top; its impressive façade and campanile from that period still stand, along with a nice side portal; the beautiful rose window over the main entrance dates back to 1348. The porch features several notable tombs, including one from 1366 by Tura da Imola, as well as a modern monument for Giuseppe Colucci, a well-known writer on the antiquities of Picenum. The inside has been updated. The building is now surrounded by a garden that offers a splendid view. A Roman theater was built against the side of the hill; there are also minimal remains of an amphitheater. You can see remnants of the city wall, made of rectangular blocks of hard limestone, just outside the Porta S. Francesco; it's unclear if the walling under the Casa Porti is part of it. The picturesque medieval battlements on top of it add character. The church of S. Francesco features a solid tower and choir made of brick from 1240, with the rest restored in the 17th century. Beneath the Dominican monastery lies a large Roman reservoir from the imperial period, spanning two levels and divided into many chambers, at least 24 on each floor, each measuring 30 by 20 ft, for filtration (see G. de Minicis in Annali dell’ Istituto, 1846, p. 46; 1858, p. 125). The piazza includes the Palazzo Comunale, which was restored in 1446, and has a statue of Pope Sixtus V. in front of it. The Biblioteca Comunale houses a collection of inscriptions and antiquities. Porto S. Giorgio features an impressive castle built in 1269 that overlooks the valley leading to Fermo.

The ancient Firmum Picenum was founded as a Latin colony in 264 B.C., after the conquest of the Picentes, as the local headquarters of the Roman power, to which it remained faithful. It was originally governed by five quaestors. It was made a colony with full rights after the battle of Philippi, the 4th legion being settled there. It lay at the junction of roads to Pausulae, Urbs Salvia and Asculum, being connected with the coast road by a short branch road from Castellum Firmanum (Porto S. Giorgio). In the 10th century it became the capital of the Marchia Firmana. In 1199 it became a free city, and remained independent until 1550, when it became subject to the papacy.

The ancient Firmum Picenum was established as a Latin colony in 264 BCE, following the conquest of the Picentes, serving as the local headquarters of Roman power, to which it remained loyal. It was initially managed by five quaestors. After the battle of Philippi, it was upgraded to a colony with full rights, with the 4th legion being stationed there. It was located at the crossroads to Pausulae, Urbs Salvia, and Asculum, connected to the coast road by a short branch road from Castellum Firmanum (Porto S. Giorgio). In the 10th century, it became the capital of the Marchia Firmana. In 1199, it was declared a free city and remained independent until 1550, when it came under the control of the papacy.

(T. As.)

FERMOY, a market town in the east riding of Co. Cork, Ireland, in the north-east parliamentary division, 21 m. by road N.E. of Cork, and 14 m. E. of Mallow by a branch of the Great Southern & Western railway. Pop. of urban district (1901) 6126. It is situated on the river Blackwater, which divides the town into two parts, the larger of which is on the southern bank, and there the trade of the town, which is chiefly in flour and agricultural produce, is mainly carried on. The town has several good streets and some noteworthy buildings. Of the latter, the most prominent are the military barracks on the north bank of the river, the Protestant church, the Roman Catholic cathedral and St Colman’s Roman Catholic college. Fermoy rose to importance only at the beginning of the 19th century, owing entirely to the devotion of John Anderson, a citizen, on becoming landlord. The town is a centre for salmon and trout fishing on the Blackwater and its tributary the Funshion. The neighbouring scenery is attractive, especially in the Glen of Araglin, once famed for its ironworks.

FERMOY, is a market town in the east part of County Cork, Ireland, located in the northeast parliamentary division, 21 miles by road northeast of Cork, and 14 miles east of Mallow via a branch of the Great Southern & Western railway. The population of the urban district was 6,126 in 1901. It sits on the River Blackwater, which splits the town into two sections, with the larger part on the southern bank where most of the trade, primarily in flour and agricultural products, occurs. The town features several nice streets and some notable buildings. Among these, the most prominent are the military barracks on the north bank of the river, the Protestant church, the Roman Catholic cathedral, and St. Colman’s Roman Catholic college. Fermoy became significant only at the start of the 19th century, mainly due to the efforts of a local citizen, John Anderson, who became the landlord. The town is a hub for salmon and trout fishing on the Blackwater River and its tributary, the Funshion. The surrounding scenery is attractive, particularly in the Glen of Araglin, which was once known for its ironworks.


FERN (from O. Eng. fearn, a word common to Teutonic languages, cf. Dutch varen, and Ger. Farn; the Indo-European root, seen in the Sanskrit parna, a feather, shows the primary meaning; cf. Gr. πτερόν, feather, πτερίς, fern), a name often used to denote the whole botanical class of Pteridophytes, including both the true ferns, Filicales, by far the largest group of this class in the existing flora, and the fern-like plants, Equisetales, Sphenophyllales, Lycopodiales (see Pteridophyta).

FERN (from O. Eng. fearn, a term found in Teutonic languages, like Dutch varen and German Farn; the Indo-European root, seen in the Sanskrit parna, meaning feather, suggests the original meaning; cf. Greek wing, feather, πτερίς, fern), is a name often used to refer to the entire botanical category of Pteridophytes, which includes both true ferns, Filicales, the largest group in this class within current flora, and fern-like plants, Equisetales, Sphenophyllales, Lycopodiales (see Pteridophyta).


FERNANDEZ, ALVARO, one of the leading Portuguese explorers of the earlier 15th century, the age of Henry the Navigator. He was brought up (as a page or esquire) in the household of Prince Henry, and while still “young and audacious” took an important part in the discovery of “Guinea.” He was a nephew of João Gonçalvez Zarco, who had rediscovered the Madeira group in Henry’s service (1418-1420), and had become part-governor of Madeira and commander of Funchal; when the great expedition of 1445 sailed for West Africa he was entrusted by his uncle with a specially fine caravel, under particular injunctions to devote himself to discovery, the most cherished object of his princely master, so constantly thwarted. 279 Fernandez, as a pioneer, outstripped all other servants of the prince at this time. After visiting the mouth of the Senegal, rounding Cape Verde, and landing in Goree (?), he pushed on to the “Cape of Masts” (Cabo dos Matos, or Mastos, so called from its tall spindle-palms), probably between Cape Verde and the Gambia, the most southerly point till then attained. Next year (1446) he returned, and coasted on much farther, to a bay one hundred and ten leagues “south” (i.e. S.S.E.) of Cape Verde, perhaps in the neighbourhood of Konakry and the Los Islands, and but little short of Sierra Leone. This record was not broken till 1461, when Sierra Leone was sighted and named. A wound, received from a poisoned arrow in an encounter with natives, now compelled Fernandez to return to Portugal, where he was received with distinguished honour and reward by Prince Henry and the regent of the kingdom, Henry’s brother Pedro.

FERNANDEZ, ALVARO, was one of the top Portuguese explorers in the early 15th century, during the time of Henry the Navigator. He grew up as a page or esquire in Prince Henry's household, and while he was still “young and bold,” he played a significant role in discovering “Guinea.” He was the nephew of João Gonçalvez Zarco, who had rediscovered the Madeira Islands while serving Henry (1418-1420) and had become a co-governor of Madeira and commander of Funchal. When the major expedition of 1445 set sail for West Africa, his uncle entrusted him with a fine caravel, with specific instructions to focus on exploration, which was the main passion of his royal master and often obstructed. 279 As a pioneer, Fernandez outperformed all other servants of the prince at that time. After visiting the mouth of the Senegal, rounding Cape Verde, and landing in Goree (?), he continued on to the “Cape of Masts” (Cabo dos Matos, or Mastos, named for its tall spindle-palms), likely between Cape Verde and the Gambia, marking the southernmost point reached at that time. The following year (1446), he returned and sailed much farther, reaching a bay one hundred and ten leagues “south” (i.e. S.S.E.) of Cape Verde, possibly near Konakry and the Los Islands, very close to Sierra Leone. This record stood until 1461 when Sierra Leone was spotted and named. A wound he suffered from a poisoned arrow during an encounter with natives forced Fernandez to return to Portugal, where he was honored and rewarded by Prince Henry and the regent of the kingdom, Henry’s brother Pedro.

See Gomes Eannes de Azurara, Chronica de ... Guiné, chs. lxxv., lxxxvii.; João de Barros, Asia, Decade I., bk. i. chs. xiii., xiv.

See Gomes Eannes de Azurara, Chronica de ... Guiné, chs. lxxv., lxxxvii.; João de Barros, Asia, Decade I., bk. i. chs. xiii., xiv.


FERNANDEZ, DIEGO, a Spanish adventurer and historian of the 16th century. Born at Palencia, he was educated for the church, but about 1545 he embarked for Peru, where he served in the royal army under Alonzo de Alvarado. Andres Hurtado de Mendoza, marquess of Cañeté, who became viceroy of Peru in 1655, bestowed on Fernandez the office of chronicler of Peru; and in this capacity he wrote a narrative of the insurrection of Francisco Hernandez Giron, of the rebellion of Gonzalo Pizarro, and of the administration of Pedro de la Gasca. The whole work, under the title Primera y segunda parte de la Historia del Piru, was published at Seville in 1571 and was dedicated to King Philip II. It is written in a clear and intelligible style, and with more art than is usual in the compositions of the time. It gives copious details, and, as he had access to the correspondence and official documents of the Spanish leaders, it is, although necessarily possessing bias, the fullest and most authentic record existing of the events it relates.

FERNANDEZ, DIEGO, a Spanish adventurer and historian from the 16th century. Born in Palencia, he was trained for the church, but around 1545 he set sail for Peru, where he joined the royal army under Alonzo de Alvarado. Andres Hurtado de Mendoza, marquess of Cañeté, who became viceroy of Peru in 1655, appointed Fernandez as the chronicler of Peru; in this role, he wrote an account of the uprising led by Francisco Hernandez Giron, the rebellion of Gonzalo Pizarro, and the administration of Pedro de la Gasca. The entire work, titled Primera y segunda parte de la Historia del Piru, was published in Seville in 1571 and dedicated to King Philip II. It's written in a clear and understandable style, with more artistry than is typical for that time. It provides extensive details, and since he had access to the correspondence and official documents of the Spanish leaders, it stands as the most complete and reliable record of the events it describes, despite being inherently biased.

A notice of the work will be found in W.H. Prescott’s History of the Conquest of Peru (new ed., London, 1902).

A notice of the work can be found in W.H. Prescott’s History of the Conquest of Peru (new ed., London, 1902).


FERNANDEZ, JOHN (João, Joam), Portuguese traveller of the 15th century. He was perhaps the earliest of modern explorers in the upland of West Africa, and a pioneer of the European slave- and gold-trade of Guinea. We first hear of him (before 1445) as a captive of the Barbary Moors in the western Mediterranean; while among these he acquired a knowledge of Arabic, and probably conceived the design of exploration in the interior of the continent whose coasts the Portuguese were now unveiling. In 1445 he volunteered to stay in Guinea and gather what information he could for Prince Henry the Navigator; with this object he accompanied Antam Gonçalvez to the “River of Gold” (Rio d’Ouro, Rio de Oro) in 23° 40′ N., where he landed and went inland with some native shepherds. He stayed seven months in the country, which lay just within Moslem Africa, slightly north of Pagan Negroland (W. Sudan); he was taken off again by Antam Gonçalvez at a point farther down the coast, near the “Cape of Ransom” (Cape Mirik), in 19° 22′ 14″; and his account of his experiences proved of great interest and value, not only as to the natural features, climate, fauna and flora of the south-western Sahara, but also as to the racial affinities, language, script, religion, nomad habits, and trade of its inhabitants. These people—though Mahommedans, maintaining a certain trade in slaves, gold, &c., with the Barbary coast (especially with Tunis), and classed as “Arabs,” “Berbers,” and “Tawny Moors”—did not then write or speak Arabic. In 1446 and 1447 John Fernandez accompanied other expeditions to the Rio d’Ouro and other parts of West Africa in the service of Prince Henry. He was personally known to Gomes Eannes de Azurara, the historian of this early period of Portuguese expansion; and from Azurara’s language it is clear that Fernandez’ revelation of unknown lands and races was fully appreciated at home.

FERNANDEZ, JOHN (João, Joam), Portuguese traveler of the 15th century. He was likely one of the earliest modern explorers in the highlands of West Africa and a trailblazer in the European slave and gold trade of Guinea. We first hear about him (before 1445) as a captive of the Barbary Moors in the western Mediterranean; during this time, he learned Arabic and probably came up with the idea of exploring the interior of the continent that the Portuguese were beginning to chart. In 1445, he volunteered to remain in Guinea to gather information for Prince Henry the Navigator; to achieve this, he joined Antam Gonçalvez on a journey to the “River of Gold” (Rio d’Ouro, Rio de Oro) at 23° 40′ N., where he landed and traveled inland with some local shepherds. He spent seven months in the region, which was just north of Muslim Africa and slightly south of Pagan Negroland (W. Sudan); he was later picked up by Antam Gonçalvez at a point further down the coast, near the “Cape of Ransom” (Cape Mirik) at 19° 22′ 14″; and his account of his experiences was very interesting and valuable, not only for its insights into the natural features, climate, fauna, and flora of the southwestern Sahara but also for its details on the racial backgrounds, language, writing, religion, nomadic lifestyle, and trade of its people. Though these individuals were Muslims who engaged in some trade of slaves, gold, etc., with the Barbary coast (especially with Tunis) and were categorized as “Arabs,” “Berbers,” and “Tawny Moors,” they did not then read or speak Arabic. In 1446 and 1447, John Fernandez took part in other expeditions to the Rio d’Ouro and other areas of West Africa in service of Prince Henry. He was personally acquainted with Gomes Eannes de Azurara, the historian of this early phase of Portuguese expansion; and from Azurara’s comments, it is evident that Fernandez’s discoveries of unknown lands and peoples were highly regarded back home.

See Azurara, Chronica de ... Guiné, chs. xxix., xxxii., xxxiv., xxxv., lxxvii., lxxviii., xc., xci., xciii.

See Azurara, Chronica de ... Guiné, chs. xxix., xxxii., xxxiv., xxxv., lxxvii., lxxviii., xc., xci., xciii.


FERNANDEZ, JUAN (fl. c. 1570), Spanish navigator and discoverer. While navigating the coasts of South America it occurred to him that the south winds constantly prevailing near the shore, and retarding voyages between Peru and Chile, might not exist farther out at sea. His idea proved correct, and by the help of the trade winds and some currents at a distance from the coast he sailed with such rapidity (thirty days) from Callao to Chile that he was apprehended on a charge of sorcery. His inquisitors, however, accepted his natural explanation of the marvel. During one of his voyages in 1563 (from Lima to Valdivia) Fernandez discovered the islands which now bear his name. He was so enchanted with their beauty and fertility that he solicited the concession of them from the Spanish government. It was granted in 1572, but a colony which he endeavoured to establish at the largest of them (Isla Mas-a-Tierra) soon broke up, leaving behind the goats, whose progeny were hunted by Alexander Selkirk. In 1574 Fernandez discovered St Felix and St Ambrose islands (in 27° S., 82° 7′ W.); and in 1576, while voyaging in the southern ocean, he is said to have sighted not only Easter Island, but also a continent, which was probably Australia or New Zealand if the story (rejected by most critics, but with reservations as to Easter Island) is to be accepted.

FERNANDEZ, JUAN (fl. c. 1570), Spanish navigator and discoverer. While sailing along the coasts of South America, he realized that the persistent south winds near the shore were slowing down journeys between Peru and Chile, and thought they might not be present farther out at sea. His theory turned out to be right, and with the help of the trade winds and some currents away from the coast, he managed to sail from Callao to Chile in just thirty days, which led to him being accused of witchcraft. However, his inquisitors accepted his logical explanation for the amazing speed. During one of his voyages in 1563 (from Lima to Valdivia), Fernandez discovered the islands that are now named after him. He was so taken by their beauty and fertility that he requested permission from the Spanish government to claim them. This was granted in 1572, but the colony he tried to establish on the largest island (Isla Mas-a-Tierra) quickly fell apart, leaving behind goats that were later hunted by Alexander Selkirk. In 1574, Fernandez discovered St. Felix and St. Ambrose islands (at 27° S., 82° 7′ W.); and in 1576, while traveling in the southern ocean, he reportedly saw not just Easter Island but also a continent, which was probably Australia or New Zealand, if the account (which most critics dismiss, though with some exceptions regarding Easter Island) is to be believed.

See J.L. Arias, Memoir recommending to the king the conversion of the new discovered islands (in Spanish, 1609; Eng. trans., 1773); Ulloa, Relacion del Viaje, bk. ii. ch. iv.; Alexander Dalrymple, An Historical Collection of the several Voyages and Discoveries in the South Pacific Ocean (London, 1769-1771); Fréville, Voyages de la Mer du Sud par les Espagnols.

See J.L. Arias, Memoir recommending to the king the conversion of the newly discovered islands (in Spanish, 1609; Eng. trans., 1773); Ulloa, Relation of the Voyage, bk. ii. ch. iv.; Alexander Dalrymple, An Historical Collection of the Various Voyages and Discoveries in the South Pacific Ocean (London, 1769-1771); Fréville, Voyages of the South Sea by the Spaniards.


FERNANDEZ, LUCAS, Spanish dramatist, was born at Salamanca about the middle of the 15th century. Nothing is known of his life, and he is represented by a single volume of plays, Farsas y églogas al modo y estilo pastoril (1514). In his secular pieces—a comedia and two farsas—he introduces few personages, employs the simplest possible action, and burlesques the language of the uneducated class; the secular and devout elements are skilfully intermingled in his two Farsas del nascimiento de Nuestro Señor Jesucristo. But the best of his dramatic essays is the Auto de la Pasión, a devout play intended to be given on Maundy Thursday. It is written in the manner of Encina, with less spontaneity, but with a sombre force to which Encina scarcely attained.

FERNANDEZ, LUCAS, Spanish playwright, was born in Salamanca around the middle of the 15th century. There’s very little known about his life, and he’s represented by a single collection of plays, Farsas y églogas al modo y estilo pastoril (1514). In his secular pieces—a comedia and two farsas—he features a few characters, uses the simplest actions, and mocks the language of the uneducated class; he skillfully blends secular and religious themes in his two Farsas del nascimiento de Nuestro Señor Jesucristo. However, his finest work is the Auto de la Pasión, a religious play meant to be performed on Maundy Thursday. It’s written in a style similar to Encina’s, with less spontaneity but a darker intensity that Encina hardly achieved.

Fernandez’ plays were reprinted by the Spanish Academy in 1867.

Fernandez's plays were reprinted by the Spanish Academy in 1867.


FERNANDINA, a city, a port of entry, and the county-seat of Nassau county, Florida, U.S.A., a winter and summer resort, in the N.E. part of the state, 36 m. N.E. of Jacksonville, on Amelia Island (about 22 m. long and from ½ m. to 1½ m. wide), which is separated from the mainland by an arm of the sea, known as Amelia river and bay. Pop. (1900) 3245; (1905, state census), 4959 (2957 negroes); (1910) 3482. Fernandina is served by the Seaboard Air Line railway, and by steamship lines connecting with domestic and foreign ports; its harbour, which has the deepest water on the E. coast of Florida, opens on the N. to Cumberland Sound, which was improved by the Federal government, beginning in 1879, reducing freight rates at Fernandina by 25 to 40%. Under an act of 1907 the channel of Fernandina harbour, 1300 ft. wide at the entrance and about 2 m. long, was dredged to a depth of 20 to 24 ft. at mean low water with a width of 400 to 600 ft. The “inside” water-route between Savannah, Georgia and Fernandina is improved by the Federal government (1892 sqq.) and has a 7-ft. channel. The principal places of interest are “Amelia Beach,” more than 20 m. long and 200 ft. wide, connected with the city by a compact shell road nearly 2 m. long and by electric line; the Amelia Island lighthouse, in the N. end of the island, established in 1836 and rebuilt in 1880; Fort Clinch, at the entrance to the harbour; Cumberland Island, in Georgia, N. of Amelia Island, where land was granted to General Nathanael Greene after the War of American Independence by the state of Georgia; and Dungeness, the estate of the Carnegie family. Ocean City, on Amelia Beach, is a popular pleasure resort. The principal industries are the manufacture of lumber, cotton, palmetto fibres, and cigars, the canning of oysters, and the building and repair of railway cars. The foreign exports, chiefly lumber, railway ties, cotton, phosphate rock, and naval stores, were valued at $9,346,704 in 1907; and the imports in 1907 at $116,514.

FERNANDINA, is a city, a port of entry, and the county seat of Nassau County, Florida, U.S.A., a winter and summer resort located in the northeastern part of the state, 36 miles northeast of Jacksonville, on Amelia Island (which is about 22 miles long and between ½ mile to 1½ miles wide). This island is separated from the mainland by an arm of the sea known as Amelia River and Bay. Population (1900) was 3,245; (1905, state census) 4,959 (2,957 African Americans); (1910) 3,482. Fernandina is accessible via the Seaboard Air Line Railway and steamship lines that connect to domestic and international ports. Its harbor, which has the deepest water on the eastern coast of Florida, opens to the north onto Cumberland Sound, which was improved by the federal government beginning in 1879, lowering freight rates at Fernandina by 25% to 40%. Under an act of 1907, the Fernandina harbor channel, 1,300 feet wide at the entrance and about 2 miles long, was dredged to a depth of 20 to 24 feet at mean low water with a width of 400 to 600 feet. The "inside" water route between Savannah, Georgia, and Fernandina was enhanced by the federal government (starting in 1892) and has a 7-foot channel. The main attractions include “Amelia Beach,” which is over 20 miles long and 200 feet wide, connected to the city by a solid shell road nearly 2 miles long and by an electric line; the Amelia Island Lighthouse, located at the northern end of the island, established in 1836 and rebuilt in 1880; Fort Clinch, at the harbor entrance; Cumberland Island, in Georgia, north of Amelia Island, where land was given to General Nathanael Greene after the American Revolutionary War by the state of Georgia; and Dungeness, the estate of the Carnegie family. Ocean City, on Amelia Beach, is a popular recreational destination. The major industries include the manufacturing of lumber, cotton, palmetto fibers, and cigars, the canning of oysters, and constructing and repairing railway cars. In 1907, foreign exports, primarily lumber, railway ties, cotton, phosphate rock, and naval stores, were valued at $9,346,704; and imports that same year amounted to $116,514.

The harbour of Fernandina was known to the early explorers 280 of Florida, and it was here that Dominic de Gourgues landed when he made his expedition against the Spanish at San Mateo in 1568. An Indian mission was established by Spanish priests later in the same century, but it was not successful. When Georgia was founded, General James Oglethorpe placed a military guard on Amelia Island to prevent sudden attack upon his colony by the Spanish, and the first blood shed in the petty warfare between Georgia and Florida was the murder of two unarmed members of the guard by a troop of Spanish soldiers and Indians in 1739. The first permanent settlement was made by the Spanish in 1808, at what is now the village of Old Fernandina, about 1 m. from the city. The island was a centre for smuggling during the period of the embargo and non-importation acts preceding the war of 1812. This was the pretext for General George Matthews (1738-1812) to gather a band of adventurers at St Mary’s, Georgia, invade the island, and capture Fernandina in 1812. In the following year the American forces were withdrawn. In 1817 Gregor MacGregor, a filibuster who had aided the Spanish provinces of South America in their revolt against Spain, fitted out an expedition in Baltimore and seized Fernandina, but departed soon after. Later in the same year Louis Aury, another adventurer, appeared with a small force from Texas, and took possession of the place in the name of the Republic of Mexico. In the following year Aury was expelled by United States troops, who held Fernandina in trust for Spain until Florida was finally ceded to the United States in 1821. Fernandina was first incorporated in 1859. In 1861 Fort Clinch was seized by the Confederates, and Fernandina harbour was a centre of blockade running in the first two years of the Civil War. In 1862 the place was captured by a Federal naval force from Port Royal, South Carolina, commanded by Commodore S.F. Du Pont.

The harbor of Fernandina was recognized by the early explorers of Florida, and it was here that Dominic de Gourgues landed during his expedition against the Spanish at San Mateo in 1568. Spanish priests established an Indian mission later in the same century, but it didn’t succeed. When Georgia was founded, General James Oglethorpe assigned a military guard to Amelia Island to ward off sudden attacks on his colony by the Spanish. The first violence in the minor conflict between Georgia and Florida occurred in 1739 when two unarmed members of the guard were murdered by a group of Spanish soldiers and Indians. The first permanent settlement was established by the Spanish in 1808, in what is now the village of Old Fernandina, about 1 mile from the city. The island became a hub for smuggling during the embargo and non-importation acts leading up to the War of 1812. This provided an excuse for General George Matthews (1738-1812) to gather a group of adventurers in St. Marys, Georgia, invade the island, and capture Fernandina in 1812. The following year, American forces were withdrawn. In 1817, Gregor MacGregor, a filibuster who had supported the Spanish provinces of South America in their revolt against Spain, organized an expedition in Baltimore and took Fernandina but left soon after. Later that same year, Louis Aury, another adventurer, arrived with a small force from Texas and claimed the area in the name of the Republic of Mexico. The next year, Aury was expelled by United States troops, who held Fernandina in trust for Spain until Florida was finally ceded to the United States in 1821. Fernandina was first incorporated in 1859. In 1861, the Confederates seized Fort Clinch, and Fernandina harbor became a center for blockade running during the first two years of the Civil War. In 1862, the area was captured by a Federal naval force from Port Royal, South Carolina, led by Commodore S.F. Du Pont.


FERNANDO DE NORONHA [Fernão de N.], an island in the South Atlantic, 125 m. from the coast of Brazil, to which country it belongs, in 3° 50′ S., 32° 25′ W. It is about 7 m. long and 1½ wide, and some other islets lie adjacent to it. Its surface is rugged, and it contains a number of rocky hills from 500 to 700 ft. high, and one peak towering to the height of 1089 ft. It is formed of basalt, trachyte and phonolite, and the soil is very fertile. The climate is healthy. It is defended by forts, and serves as a place of banishment for criminals from Brazil. The next largest island of the group is about a mile in circumference, and the others are small barren rocks. The population is about 2000, all males, including some 1400 criminals, and a garrison of 150. Communication is maintained by steamer with Pernambuco. The island takes name from its Portuguese discoverer (1503), the count of Noronha.

FERNANDO DE NORONHA [Fernão de N.], is an island in the South Atlantic, located 125 miles off the coast of Brazil, to which it belongs, at 3° 50′ S., 32° 25′ W. The island is about 7 miles long and 1½ miles wide, with some smaller islets nearby. Its landscape is rugged, with several rocky hills ranging from 500 to 700 feet high, and one peak reaching 1,089 feet. The island is made up of basalt, trachyte, and phonolite, and the soil is very fertile. The climate is healthy. It’s fortified and serves as a place for exiling criminals from Brazil. The next largest island in the group is about a mile around, while the others are small, barren rocks. The population is around 2,000, all male, including about 1,400 criminals and a garrison of 150. Steamer communication is maintained with Pernambuco. The island is named after its Portuguese discoverer (1503), the count of Noronha.


FERNANDO PO, or Fernando Póo, a Spanish island on the west coast of Africa, in the Bight of Biafra, about 20 m. from the mainland, in 3° 12′ N. and 8° 48′ E. It is of volcanic origin, related to the Cameroon system of the adjacent mainland, is the largest island in the Gulf of Guinea, is 44 m. long from N.N.E. to S.S.W., about 20 m. broad, and has an area of about 780 sq. m. Fernando Po is noted for its beautiful aspect, seeming from a short distance to be a single mountain rising from the sea, its sides covered with luxuriant vegetation. The shores are steep and rocky and the coast plain narrow. This plain is succeeded by the slopes of the mountains which occupy the rest of the island and culminate in the magnificent cone of Clarence Peak or Pico de Santa Isabel (native name Owassa). Clarence Peak, about 10,000 ft. high,1 is in the north-central part of the island. In the south Musolo Mt. attains a height of 7400 ft. There are numerous other peaks between 4000 and 6000 ft. high. The mountains contain craters and crater lakes, and are covered, most of them to their summits, with forests. Down the narrow intervening valleys rush torrential streams which have cut deep beds through the coast plains. The trees most characteristic of the forest are oil palms and tree ferns, but there are many varieties, including ebony, mahogany and the African oak. The undergrowth is very dense; it includes the sugar-cane and cotton and indigo plants. The fauna includes antelopes, monkeys, lemurs, the civet cat, porcupine, pythons and green tree-snakes, crocodiles and turtles. The climate is very unhealthy in the lower districts, where malarial fever is common. The mean temperature on the coast is 78° Fahr. and varies little, but in the higher altitudes there is considerable daily variation. The rainfall is very heavy except during November-January, which is considered the dry season.

FERNANDO PO, or Bioko Island, is a Spanish island located on the west coast of Africa, in the Bight of Biafra, about 20 miles from the mainland, at 3° 12′ N. and 8° 48′ E. It has a volcanic origin, linked to the Cameroon system on the nearby mainland. As the largest island in the Gulf of Guinea, it measures 44 miles long from N.N.E. to S.S.W., about 20 miles wide, with an area of roughly 780 square miles. Fernando Po is famous for its stunning appearance, seeming from a distance to be a single mountain rising from the sea, its slopes covered with lush vegetation. The shores are steep and rocky, and the coastal plain is narrow. This plain is followed by the slopes of the mountains that dominate the island, which culminate in the impressive cone of Clarence Peak, also known as Pico de Santa Isabel (local name Owassa). Clarence Peak, standing about 10,000 feet high, is situated in the north-central part of the island. In the south, Musolo Mt. reaches a height of 7,400 feet. There are numerous other peaks rising between 4,000 and 6,000 feet. The mountains feature craters and crater lakes, with most of them covered in forests up to their summits. Torrential streams rush down the narrow valleys, carving deep channels through the coastal plains. The forests are characterized by oil palms and tree ferns, along with a variety of other species including ebony, mahogany, and African oak. The underbrush is very dense, containing sugar cane, cotton, and indigo plants. The wildlife includes antelopes, monkeys, lemurs, civet cats, porcupines, pythons, green tree snakes, crocodiles, and turtles. The climate is quite unhealthy in the lower areas, where malaria is common. The average temperature along the coast is 78°F and does not fluctuate much, but there is significant daily variation in the higher altitudes. Rainfall is very heavy except during November to January, which is regarded as the dry season.

The inhabitants number about 25,000. In addition to about 500 Europeans, mostly Spaniards and Cubans, they are of two classes, the Bubis or Bube (formerly also called Ediya), who occupy the interior, and the coast dwellers, a mixed Negro race, largely descended from slave ancestors with an admixture of Portuguese and Spanish blood, and known to the Bubis as “Portos”—a corruption of Portuguese. The Bubis are of Bantu stock and early immigrants from the mainland. Physically they are a finely developed race, extremely jealous of their independence and unwilling to take service of any kind with Europeans. They go unclothed, smearing their bodies with a kind of pomatum. They stick pieces of wood in the lobes of their ears, wear numerous armlets made of ivory, beads or grass, and always wear hats, generally made of palm leaves. Their weapons are mainly of wood; stone axes and knives were in use as late as 1858. They have no knowledge of working iron. Their villages are built in the densest parts of the forest, and care is taken to conceal the approach to them. The Bubis are sportsmen and fishermen rather than agriculturists. The staple foods of the islanders generally are millet, rice, yams and bananas. Alcohol is distilled from the sugar-cane. The natives possess numbers of sheep, goats and fowls.

The population is about 25,000. Besides around 500 Europeans, mostly Spaniards and Cubans, there are two main groups: the Bubis or Bube (formerly known as Ediya), who inhabit the interior, and the coastal residents, a mixed ethnic group largely descended from enslaved ancestors with some Portuguese and Spanish heritage, referred to by the Bubis as "Portos," a twist on the word Portuguese. The Bubis are of Bantu origin and were early immigrants from the mainland. Physically, they are a well-developed group, highly protective of their independence and reluctant to work for Europeans. They typically go without clothing, applying a type of ointment to their skin. They wear wooden pieces in their earlobes, numerous armlets made from ivory, beads, or grass, and always sport hats, usually made from palm leaves. Their weapons are mostly wooden; stone axes and knives were still in use as late as 1858. They do not know how to work with iron. Their villages are located in the thickest parts of the forest, and they take care to hide the ways to approach them. The Bubis are more focused on hunting and fishing than farming. The staple foods of the islanders include millet, rice, yams, and bananas. They distill alcohol from sugar cane and keep various sheep, goats, and chickens.

The principal settlement is Port Clarence (pop. 1500), called by the Spaniards Santa Isabel, a safe and commodious harbour on the north coast. In its graveyard are buried Richard Lander and several other explorers of West Africa. Port Clarence is unhealthy, and the seat of government has been removed to Basile, a small town 5 m. from Port Clarence and over 1000 ft. above the sea. On the west coast are the bay and port of San Carlos, on the east coast Concepcion Bay and town. The chief industry until the close of the 19th century was the collection of palm-oil, but the Spaniards have since developed plantations of cocoa, coffee, sugar, tobacco, vanilla and other tropical plants. The kola nut is also cultivated. The cocoa plantations are of most importance. The amount of cocoa exported in 1905 was 1800 tons, being 370 tons above the average export for the preceding five years. The total value of the trade of the island (1900-1905) was about £250,000 a year.

The main settlement is Port Clarence (population 1,500), known to the Spanish as Santa Isabel, a safe and spacious harbor on the north coast. In its cemetery, you'll find the graves of Richard Lander and several other explorers of West Africa. Port Clarence is considered unhealthy, so the government has moved to Basile, a small town 5 miles from Port Clarence and more than 1,000 feet above sea level. On the west coast are the bay and port of San Carlos, while Concepcion Bay and town are located on the east coast. The main industry until the end of the 19th century was collecting palm oil, but since then, the Spaniards have developed plantations for cocoa, coffee, sugar, tobacco, vanilla, and other tropical crops. Kola nuts are also grown. The cocoa plantations are the most significant. In 1905, the amount of cocoa exported was 1,800 tons, which is 370 tons more than the average export for the previous five years. The total trade value of the island from 1900 to 1905 was approximately £250,000 per year.

History.—The island was discovered towards the close of the 15th century by a Portuguese navigator called Fernão do Po, who, struck by its beauty, named it Formosa, but it soon came to be called by the name of its discoverer.2 A Portuguese colony was established in the island, which together with Annobon was ceded to Spain in 1778. The first attempts of Spain to develop the island ended disastrously, and in 1827, with the consent of Spain, the administration of the island was taken over by Great Britain, the British “superintendent” having a Spanish commission as governor. By the British Fernando Po was used as a naval station for the ships engaged in the suppression of the slave trade. The British headquarters were named Port Clarence and the adjacent promontory Cape William, in honour of the duke of Clarence (William IV.). In 1844 the Spaniards reclaimed the island, refusing to sell their rights to Great Britain. They did no more at that time, however, than hoist the Spanish flag, appointing a British resident, John Beecroft, governor. Beecroft, who was made British consul in 1849, died in 1854. During the British occupation a considerable number of Sierra Leonians, West Indians and freed slaves settled in the island, and English became and remains the common speech of the coast peoples. In 1858 a Spanish governor was sent out, and the Baptist missionaries who had laboured in the island since 1843 were compelled to withdraw. They settled in Ambas Bay on the 281 neighbouring mainland (see Cameroon). The Jesuits who succeeded the Baptists were also expelled, but mission and educational work is now carried on by other Roman Catholic agencies, and (since 1870) by the Primitive Methodists. In 1879 the Spanish government recalled its officials, but a few years later, when the partition of Africa was being effected, they were replaced and a number of Cuban political prisoners were deported thither. Very little was done to develop the resources of the island until after the loss of the Spanish colonies in the West Indies and the Pacific, when Spain turned her attention to her African possessions. Stimulated by the success of the Portuguese cocoa plantations in the neighbouring island of St Thomas, the Spaniards started similar plantations, with some measure of success. The strategical importance and commercial possibilities of the island caused Germany and other powers to approach Spain with a view to its acquisition, and in 1900 the Spaniards gave France, in return for territorial concessions on the mainland, the right of pre-emption over the island and her other West African possessions.

History.—The island was discovered near the end of the 15th century by a Portuguese navigator named Fernão do Po, who, taken by its beauty, called it Formosa, but it quickly became known by his name. 2 A Portuguese colony was established on the island, which, along with Annobon, was ceded to Spain in 1778. Spain's first attempts to develop the island ended poorly, and in 1827, with Spain's agreement, Great Britain took over the administration of the island, with a British "superintendent" holding a Spanish commission as governor. The British used Fernando Po as a naval station for ships involved in suppressing the slave trade. The British headquarters were named Port Clarence, and the nearby promontory was called Cape William, in honor of the Duke of Clarence (William IV.). In 1844, the Spaniards reclaimed the island, refusing to sell their rights to Great Britain. However, at that time, they only raised the Spanish flag and appointed a British resident, John Beecroft, as governor. Beecroft, who became the British consul in 1849, died in 1854. During the British occupation, a significant number of Sierra Leonians, West Indians, and freed slaves settled on the island, and English became and continues to be the common language of the coastal people. In 1858, a Spanish governor was sent, and the Baptist missionaries who had been active on the island since 1843 were forced to leave. They settled in Ambas Bay on the neighboring mainland (see Cameroon). The Jesuits who followed the Baptists were also expelled, but mission and educational work is now carried out by other Roman Catholic agencies, and (since 1870) by the Primitive Methodists. In 1879, the Spanish government recalled its officials, but a few years later, during the partition of Africa, they were replaced, and a number of Cuban political prisoners were deported there. Very little was done to develop the island’s resources until after Spain lost its colonies in the West Indies and the Pacific, when Spain began to focus on its African possessions. Inspired by the success of the Portuguese cocoa plantations on the nearby island of St. Thomas, the Spaniards started similar plantations with some success. The strategic importance and commercial potential of the island led Germany and other powers to approach Spain about acquiring it, and in 1900, Spain granted France, in exchange for territorial concessions on the mainland, the right of pre-emption over the island and its other West African possessions.

The administration of the island is in the hands of a governor-general, assisted by a council, and responsible to the ministry of foreign affairs at Madrid. The governor-general has under his authority the sub-governors of the other Spanish possessions in the Gulf of Guinea, namely, the Muni River Settlement, Corisco and Annobon (see those articles). None of these possessions is self-supporting.

The administration of the island is managed by a governor-general, supported by a council, and accountable to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Madrid. The governor-general oversees the sub-governors of other Spanish territories in the Gulf of Guinea, specifically the Muni River Settlement, Corisco, and Annobon (see those articles). None of these territories is self-sustaining.

See E. d’Almonte, “Someras Notas ... de la isla de Fernando Póo y de la Guinea continental española,” in Bol. Real. Soc. Geog. of Madrid (1902); and a further article in the Riv. Geog. Col. of Madrid (1908); E.L. Vilches, “Fernando Póo y la Guinea española,” in the Bol. Real. Soc. Geog. (1901); San Javier, Tres Años en Fernando Póo (Madrid, 1875); O. Baumann, Eine africanische Tropeninsel: Fernando Póo und die Bube (Vienna, 1888); Sir H.H. Johnston, George Grenfell and the Congo ... and Notes on Fernando Pô (London, 1908); Mary H. Kingsley, Travels in West Africa, ch. iii. (London, 1897); T.J. Hutchinson, sometime British Consul at Fernando Po, Impressions of Western Africa, chs. xii. and xiii. (London, 1858), and Ten Years’ Wanderings among the Ethiopians, chs. xvii. and xviii. (London, 1861). For the Bubi language see J. Clarke, The Adeeyah Vocabulary (1841), and Introduction to the Fernandian Tongue (1848). Consult also Wanderings in West Africa (1863) and other books written by Sir Richard Burton as the result of his consulship at Fernando Po, 1861-1865, and the works cited under Muni River Settlements.

See E. d’Almonte, “Some Notes ... on the island of Fernando Póo and the Spanish mainland Guinea,” in Bol. Real. Soc. Geog. of Madrid (1902); and a further article in the Riv. Geog. Col. of Madrid (1908); E.L. Vilches, “Fernando Póo and Spanish Guinea,” in the Bol. Real. Soc. Geog. (1901); San Javier, Three Years in Fernando Póo (Madrid, 1875); O. Baumann, An African Tropical Island: Fernando Póo and the Bube (Vienna, 1888); Sir H.H. Johnston, George Grenfell and the Congo ... and Notes on Fernando Pô (London, 1908); Mary H. Kingsley, Travels in West Africa, ch. iii. (London, 1897); T.J. Hutchinson, former British Consul at Fernando Po, Impressions of Western Africa, chs. xii. and xiii. (London, 1858), and Ten Years’ Wanderings among the Ethiopians, chs. xvii. and xviii. (London, 1861). For the Bubi language see J. Clarke, The Adeeyah Vocabulary (1841), and Introduction to the Fernandian Tongue (1848). Also check Wanderings in West Africa (1863) and other books written by Sir Richard Burton during his time as consul at Fernando Po, 1861-1865, and the works cited under Muni River Settlements.


1 The heights given by explorers vary from 9200 to 10,800 ft.

1 The heights reported by explorers range from 9,200 to 10,800 ft.

2 Some authorities maintain that another Portuguese seaman, Lopes Gonsalves, was the discoverer of the island. The years 1469, 1471 and 1486 are variously given as those of the date of the discovery.

2 Some experts argue that another Portuguese sailor, Lopes Gonsalves, was the one who discovered the island. The years 1469, 1471, and 1486 are mentioned as different possible dates for the discovery.


FERNEL, JEAN FRANÇOIS (1497-1558), French physician, was born at Clermont in 1497, and after receiving his early education at his native town, entered the college of Sainte-Barbe, Paris. At first he devoted himself to mathematical and astronomical studies; his Cosmotheoria (1528) records a determination of a degree of the meridian, which he made by counting the revolutions of his carriage wheels on a journey between Paris and Amiens. But from 1534 he gave himself up entirely to medicine, in which he graduated in 1530. His extraordinary general erudition, and the skill and success with which he sought to revive the study of the old Greek physicians, gained him a great reputation, and ultimately the office of physician to the court. He practised with great success, and at his death in 1558 left behind him an immense fortune. He also wrote Monalosphaerium, sive astrolabii genus, generalis horarii structura et usus (1526); De proportionibus (1528); De evacuandi ratione (1545); De abditis rerum causis (1548); and Medicina ad Henricum II. (1554).

FERNEL, JEAN FRANÇOIS (1497-1558), French physician, was born in Clermont in 1497. After completing his early education in his hometown, he enrolled at the college of Sainte-Barbe in Paris. Initially, he focused on mathematics and astronomy; his Cosmotheoria (1528) details his determination of a degree of the meridian, which he calculated by counting the revolutions of his carriage wheels during a trip between Paris and Amiens. However, starting in 1534, he dedicated himself entirely to medicine, earning his degree in 1530. His remarkable general knowledge and the proficiency with which he aimed to revive the study of ancient Greek physicians earned him significant recognition, eventually leading him to the position of physician to the court. He practiced medicine with great success and, upon his death in 1558, left a vast fortune. He also authored Monalosphaerium, sive astrolabii genus, generalis horarii structura et usus (1526); De proportionibus (1528); De evacuandi ratione (1545); De abditis rerum causis (1548); and Medicina ad Henricum II. (1554).


FERNIE, an important city in the east Kootenay district of British Columbia. Pop. about 4000. It is situated on the Crow’s Nest branch of the Canadian Pacific railway, at the junction of Coal Creek with the Elk river, and owes its importance to the extensive coal mines in its vicinity. There are about 500 coke ovens in operation at Fernie, which supply most of the smelting plants in southern British Columbia with fuel.

FERNIE, is an important city in the East Kootenay region of British Columbia. It has a population of around 4,000. Located on the Crow’s Nest branch of the Canadian Pacific Railway, at the junction of Coal Creek and the Elk River, its significance comes from the extensive coal mines nearby. There are approximately 500 coke ovens in operation in Fernie, supplying most of the smelting plants in southern British Columbia with fuel.


FERNOW, KARL LUDWIG (1763-1808), German art-critic and archaeologist, was born in Pomerania on the 19th of November 1763. His father was a servant in the household of the lord of Blumenhagen. At the age of twelve he became clerk to a notary, and was afterwards apprenticed to a druggist. While serving his time he had the misfortune accidentally to shoot a young man who came to visit him; and although through the intercession of his master he escaped prosecution, the untoward event weighed heavily on his mind, and led him at the close of his apprenticeship to quit his native place. He obtained a situation at Lübeck, where he had leisure to cultivate his natural taste for drawing and poetry. Having formed an acquaintance with the painter Carstens, whose influence was an important stimulus and help to him, he renounced his trade of druggist, and set up as a portrait-painter and drawing-master. At Ludwigslust he fell in love with a young girl, and followed her to Weimar; but failing in his suit, he went next to Jena. There he was introduced to Professor Reinhold, and in his house met the Danish poet Baggesen. The latter invited him to accompany him to Switzerland and Italy, a proposal which he eagerly accepted (1794) for the sake of the opportunity of furthering his studies in the fine arts. On Baggesen’s return to Denmark, Fernow, assisted by some of his friends, visited Rome and made some stay there. He now renewed his intercourse with Carstens, who had settled at Rome, and applied himself to the study of the history and theory of the fine arts and of the Italian language and literature. Making rapid progress, he was soon qualified to give a course of lectures on archaeology, which was attended by the principal artists then at Rome. Having married a Roman lady, he returned in 1802 to Germany, and was appointed in the following year professor extraordinary of Italian literature at Jena. In 1804 he accepted the post of librarian to Amelia, duchess-dowager of Weimar, which gave him the leisure he desired for the purpose of turning to account the literary and archaeological researches in which he had engaged at Rome. His most valuable work, the Römische Studien, appeared in 3 vols. (1806-1808). Among his other works are—Das Leben des Künstlers Carstens (1806), Ariosto’s Lebenslauf (1809), and Francesco Petrarca (1818). Fernow died at Weimar, December 4, 1808.

FERNOW, KARL LUDWIG (1763-1808), a German art critic and archaeologist, was born in Pomerania on November 19, 1763. His father worked as a servant for the lord of Blumenhagen. At twelve, he became a clerk for a notary and later apprenticed as a druggist. During his training, he accidentally shot a young man who visited him; although he was spared prosecution thanks to his master's intervention, the incident troubled him deeply, prompting him to leave his hometown after completing his apprenticeship. He found a job in Lübeck, where he had time to pursue his natural passion for drawing and poetry. He formed a friendship with the painter Carstens, whose influence became a significant encouragement for him, leading him to abandon the druggist trade and become a portrait painter and drawing teacher. In Ludwigslust, he fell in love with a young woman and followed her to Weimar, but after failing to win her over, he went to Jena. There, he met Professor Reinhold and encountered the Danish poet Baggesen, who invited Fernow to travel with him to Switzerland and Italy. Eager to advance his studies in the fine arts, he accepted the invitation in 1794. After Baggesen returned to Denmark, Fernow, with the help of some friends, visited Rome and stayed for a while. He reconnected with Carstens, who had moved to Rome, and focused on studying the history and theory of the fine arts, as well as the Italian language and literature. His progress was swift, and he soon became qualified to give lectures on archaeology, which were attended by leading artists in Rome. After marrying a Roman woman, he returned to Germany in 1802 and the following year became an extraordinary professor of Italian literature at Jena. In 1804, he took on the role of librarian for Amelia, the duchess dowager of Weimar, which provided him the time he needed to delve into the literary and archaeological studies he had begun in Rome. His most important work, the Römische Studien, was published in three volumes (1806-1808). Other notable works include Das Leben des Künstlers Carstens (1806), Ariosto’s Lebenslauf (1809), and Francesco Petrarca (1818). Fernow passed away in Weimar on December 4, 1808.

A memoir of his life by Johanna Schopenhauer, mother of the philosopher, Arthur Schopenhauer, appeared in 1810, and a complete edition of his works in 1829.

A memoir of his life by Johanna Schopenhauer, mother of the philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer, was published in 1810, and a complete edition of his works came out in 1829.


FEROZEPUR, or Firozpur, a town and district of British India, in the Jullundur division of the Punjab. The town is a railway junction connecting the North-Western and Rajputana railways, and is situated about 4 m. from the present south bank of the Sutlej. Pop. (1901) 49,341. The arsenal is the largest in India, and Ferozepur is the headquarters of a brigade in the 3rd division of the northern army corps. British rule was first established at Ferozepur in 1835, when, on the failure of heirs to the Sikh family who possessed it, a small territory 86 m. in extent became an escheat to the British government, and the present district has been gradually formed around this nucleus. The strategic importance of Ferozepur was at this time very great; and when, in 1839, Captain (afterwards Sir Henry) Lawrence took charge of the station as political officer, it was the outpost of British India in the direction of the Sikh power. Ferozepur accordingly became the scene of operations during the first Sikh War. The Sikhs crossed the Sutlej in December 1845, and were defeated successively at Mudki, Ferozepur, Aliwal and Sobraon; after which they withdrew into their own territory, and peace was concluded at Lahore. At the time of the mutiny Ferozepur cantonments contained two regiments of native infantry and a regiment of native cavalry, together with the 61st Foot and two companies of European artillery. One of the native regiments, the 57th, was disarmed; but the other, the 45th, broke into mutiny, and, after an unsuccessful attempt to seize the magazine, which was held by the Europeans, proceeded to join the rebel forces in Delhi. Throughout the mutiny Ferozepur remained in the hands of the English.

FEROZEPUR, or Firozpur, is a town and district in British India, located in the Jullundur division of Punjab. The town serves as a railway junction linking the North-Western and Rajputana railways and is about 4 miles from the current south bank of the Sutlej River. The population in 1901 was 49,341. The arsenal here is the largest in India, and Ferozepur is the headquarters for a brigade in the 3rd division of the northern army corps. British control was first established in Ferozepur in 1835 when, after the Sikh heirs to the territory failed, a small area of 86 miles became property of the British government, and the current district developed around this core. At that time, Ferozepur held significant strategic importance; when Captain (later Sir Henry) Lawrence took charge as the political officer in 1839, it served as the outpost for British India towards the Sikh power. Consequently, Ferozepur was a key location during the first Sikh War. The Sikhs crossed the Sutlej River in December 1845 and were defeated in succession at Mudki, Ferozepur, Aliwal, and Sobraon, after which they retreated into their territory, leading to a peace agreement in Lahore. During the mutiny, Ferozepur cantonments had two regiments of native infantry, one regiment of native cavalry, the 61st Foot, and two companies of European artillery. The 57th native regiment was disarmed, but the 45th broke into mutiny and, after an unsuccessful attempt to seize the magazine held by Europeans, joined the rebel forces in Delhi. Throughout the mutiny, Ferozepur remained under English control.

Ferozepur has rapidly advanced in material prosperity of late years, and is now a very important seat of commerce, trade being mainly in grain. The main streets of the city are wide and well paved, and the whole is enclosed by a low brick wall. Great improvements have been made in the surroundings of the city. The cantonment lies 2 m. to the south of the city, and is connected with it by a good metalled road.

Ferozepur has quickly grown in wealth in recent years and is now a significant hub for commerce, with trade primarily focused on grain. The main streets of the city are wide and well-paved, and the entire area is surrounded by a low brick wall. Major improvements have been made to the outskirts of the city. The cantonment is located 2 miles south of the city and is linked to it by a good paved road.

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The District of Ferozepur comprises an area of 4302 sq. m. The surface is level, with the exception of a few sand-hills in the south and south-east. The country consists of two distinct tracts, that liable to annual fertilizing inundations from the Sutlej, known as the bhet, and the rohi or upland tract. The only river is the Sutlej, which runs along the north-western boundary. The principal crops are wheat, barley, millet, gram, pulses, oil-seeds, cotton, tobacco, &c. The manufactures are of the humblest kind, consisting chiefly of cotton and wool-weaving, and are confined entirely to the supply of local wants. The Lahore and Ludhiāna road runs for 51 m. through the district, and forms an important trade route. The North-Western, the Southern Punjab, and a branch of the Rajputana-Malwa railways serve the district. The other important towns and seats of commerce are Fazilka (pop. 8505), Dharmkot (6731), Moga (6725), and Muktsar (6389). Owing principally to the dryness of its climate, Ferozepur has the reputation of being an exceptionally healthy district. In September and October, however, after the annual rains, the people suffer a good deal from remittent fever. In 1901 the population was 958,072. Distributaries of the Sirhind canal water the whole district.

The Ferozepur District covers an area of 4302 sq. m. The terrain is mostly flat, except for a few sand dunes in the south and southeast. The region consists of two main areas: the low-lying lands that experience annual flooding from the Sutlej, known as the bhet, and the rohi or elevated area. The only river is the Sutlej, which flows along the northwestern border. The main crops grown here include wheat, barley, millet, gram, pulses, oilseeds, cotton, tobacco, and others. The manufacturing activities are quite simple, mainly involving cotton and wool weaving, and are focused solely on meeting local demand. The Lahore and Ludhiāna road stretches for 51 m through the district and is a significant trade route. The district is serviced by the North-Western, Southern Punjab, and a branch of the Rajputana-Malwa railways. Other notable towns and commercial centers include Fazilka (pop. 8505), Dharmkot (6731), Moga (6725), and Muktsar (6389). Due to its dry climate, Ferozepur is known for being exceptionally healthy. However, in September and October, following the annual rains, residents often experience high rates of remittent fever. In 1901, the population was 958,072. The entire district is irrigated by distributaries of the Sirhind canal.


FEROZESHAH, a village in the Punjab, India, notable as the scene of one of the chief battles in the first Sikh War. The battle immediately succeeded that of Mudki, and was fought on the 21st and 22nd of December 1845. During its course Sir Hugh Gough, the British commander, was overruled by the governor-general, Lord Hardinge, who was acting as his second in command (see Sikh Wars). At the end of the first day’s fighting the British had occupied the Sikh position, but had not gained an undisputed victory. On the following morning the battle was resumed, and the Sikhs were reinforced by a second army under Tej Singh; but through cowardice or treachery Tej Singh withdrew at the critical moment, leaving the field to the British. In the course of the fight the British lost 694 killed and 1721 wounded, the vast majority being British troops, while the Sikhs lost 100 guns and about 5000 killed and wounded.

FEROZESHAH a village in Punjab, India, is known for being the site of one of the major battles in the first Sikh War. This battle followed the one at Mudki and took place on December 21 and 22, 1845. During the battle, Sir Hugh Gough, the British commander, was overruled by the governor-general, Lord Hardinge, who was acting as his second-in-command (see Sikh Wars). By the end of the first day's fighting, the British had taken the Sikh position but had not achieved a clear victory. The next morning, the battle resumed, and the Sikhs were reinforced by a second army led by Tej Singh; however, due to cowardice or betrayal, Tej Singh pulled back at a crucial moment, leaving the field to the British. Throughout the battle, the British suffered 694 soldiers killed and 1,721 wounded, the vast majority being British troops, while the Sikhs lost 100 guns and around 5,000 killed and wounded.


FERRAND, ANTOINE FRANÇOIS CLAUDE, Comte (1751-1825), French statesman and political writer, was born in Paris on the 4th of July 1751, and became a member of the parlement of Paris at eighteen. He left France with the first party of emigrants, and attached himself to the prince of Condé; later he was a member of the council of regency formed by the comte de Provence after the death of Louis XVI. He lived at Regensburg until 1801, when he returned to France, though he still sought to serve the royalist cause. In 1814 Ferrand was made minister of state and postmaster-general. He countersigned the act of sequestration of Napoleon’s property, and introduced a bill for the restoration of the property of the emigrants, establishing a distinction, since become famous, between royalists of la ligne droite and those of la ligne courbe. At the second restoration Ferrand was again for a short time postmaster-general. He was also made a peer of France, member of the privy council, grand-officer and secretary of the orders of Saint Michel and the Saint Esprit, and in 1816 member of the Academy, He continued his active support of ultra-royalist views until his death, which took place in Paris on the 17th of January 1825.

FERRAND, ANTOINE FRANÇOIS CLAUDE, Comte (1751-1825), French statesman and political writer, was born in Paris on July 4, 1751, and became a member of the parlement of Paris at eighteen. He left France with the first group of emigrants and aligned himself with the prince of Condé; later, he was part of the council of regency formed by the comte de Provence after the death of Louis XVI. He lived in Regensburg until 1801, when he returned to France, although he still sought to support the royalist cause. In 1814, Ferrand was appointed minister of state and postmaster-general. He signed the act of sequestration of Napoleon’s property and introduced a bill for the restoration of the property of the emigrants, creating a distinction that has since become well-known between royalists of la ligne droite and those of la ligne courbe. During the second restoration, Ferrand briefly served again as postmaster-general. He was also made a peer of France, a member of the privy council, grand officer and secretary of the orders of Saint Michel and the Saint Esprit, and in 1816, he became a member of the Academy. He continued to actively support ultra-royalist views until his death, which occurred in Paris on January 17, 1825.

Besides a large number of political pamphlets, Ferrand is the author of L’Esprit de l’histoire, ou Lettres d’un père à son fils sur la manière d’étudier l’histoire (4 vols., 1802), which reached seven editions, the last number in 1826 having prefixed to it a biographical sketch of the author by his nephew Héricart de Thury; Éloge historique de Madame Élisabeth de France (1814); Œuvres dramatiques (1817); Théorie des révolutions rapprochée des événements qui en ont été l’origine, le développement, ou la suite (4 vols., 1817); and Histoire des trois démembrements de la Pologne, pour faire suite à l’Histoire de l’anarchie de Pologne par Rulhière (3 vols., 1820).

Besides a large number of political pamphlets, Ferrand is the author of L’Esprit de l’histoire, ou Lettres d’un père à son fils sur la manière d’étudier l’histoire (4 vols., 1802), which went through seven editions, the last one in 1826 featuring a biographical sketch of the author by his nephew Héricart de Thury; Éloge historique de Madame Élisabeth de France (1814); Œuvres dramatiques (1817); Théorie des révolutions rapprochée des événements qui en ont été l’origine, le développement, ou la suite (4 vols., 1817); and Histoire des trois démembrements de la Pologne, pour faire suite à l’Histoire de l’anarchie de Pologne par Rulhière (3 vols., 1820).


FERRAR, NICHOLAS (1592-1637), English theologian, was born in London in 1592 and educated at Clare Hall, Cambridge, graduating in 1610. He was obliged for some years to travel for his health, but on returning to England in 1618 became actively connected with the Virginia Company. When this company was deprived of its patent in 1623 Ferrar turned his attention to politics, and was elected to parliament. But he soon decided to devote himself to a religious life; he purchased the manor of Little Gidding in Huntingdonshire, where he organized a small religious community. Here, in 1626, he was ordained a deacon by Laud, and declining preferment, he lived an austere, almost monastic life of study and good works. He died on the 4th of December 1637, and the house was despoiled and the community broken up ten years later. There are extant a number of “harmonies” of the Gospel, printed and bound by the community, two of them by Ferrar himself. One of the latter was made for Charles I. on his request, after a visit in 1633 to see the “Arminian Nunnery at Little Gidding,” which had been the subject of some scandalous—and undeserved—criticism.

FERRAR, NICHOLAS (1592-1637), an English theologian, was born in London in 1592 and educated at Clare Hall, Cambridge, graduating in 1610. He had to travel for his health for a few years, but when he returned to England in 1618, he became actively involved with the Virginia Company. After the company lost its patent in 1623, Ferrar shifted his focus to politics and was elected to parliament. However, he soon decided to dedicate himself to a religious life; he bought the manor of Little Gidding in Huntingdonshire, where he started a small religious community. In 1626, he was ordained a deacon by Laud, and declining any promotions, he led a rigorous, almost monastic life dedicated to study and charitable work. He died on December 4, 1637, and the house was looted and the community disbanded ten years later. A number of “harmonies” of the Gospel, printed and bound by the community, still exist, including two made by Ferrar himself. One of these was created for Charles I at his request, following his visit in 1633 to see the “Arminian Nunnery at Little Gidding,” which had faced some scandalous—and unwarranted—criticism.


FERRAR, ROBERT (d. 1555), bishop of St David’s and martyr, born about the end of the 15th century of a Yorkshire family, is said to have been educated at Cambridge, whence he proceeded to Oxford and became a canon regular of St Augustine. He came under the influence of Thomas Gerrard and Lutheran theology, and was compelled to bear a faggot with Anthony Dalaber and others in 1528. He graduated B.D. in 1533, accompanied Bishop Barlow on his embassy to Scotland in 1535, and was made prior of St Oswald’s at Nostell near Pontefract. At the dissolution he surrendered his priory without compunction to the crown, and received a liberal pension. For the rest of Henry’s reign his career is obscure; perhaps he fled abroad on the enactment of the Six Articles. He certainly married, and is said to have been made Cranmer’s chaplain, and bishop of Sodor and Man; but he was never consecrated to that see.

FERRAR, ROBERT (d. 1555), bishop of St David’s and martyr, born around the end of the 15th century into a Yorkshire family, is believed to have been educated at Cambridge, where he then moved on to Oxford and became a canon regular of St Augustine. He came under the influence of Thomas Gerrard and Lutheran theology and was forced to take part in a public execution alongside Anthony Dalaber and others in 1528. He earned his B.D. in 1533, accompanied Bishop Barlow on his mission to Scotland in 1535, and was appointed prior of St Oswald’s at Nostell near Pontefract. When the dissolution occurred, he willingly surrendered his priory to the crown and received a substantial pension. For the remainder of Henry’s reign, his career is unclear; he may have fled abroad following the introduction of the Six Articles. He definitely got married, and it's said that he became Cranmer’s chaplain and was named bishop of Sodor and Man; however, he was never officially consecrated to that position.

After the accession of Edward VI., Ferrar was, probably through the influence of Bishop Barlow, appointed chaplain to Protector Somerset, a royal visitor, and bishop of St David’s on Barlow’s translation to Bath and Wells in 1548. He was the first bishop appointed by letters patent under the act passed in 1547 without the form of capitular election; and the service performed at his consecration was also novel, being in English; he also preached at St Paul’s on the 11th of November clad only as a priest and not as a bishop, and inveighed against vestments and altars. At St David’s he had trouble at once with his singularly turbulent chapter, who, finding that he was out of favour at court since Somerset’s fall in 1549, brought a long list of fantastic charges against him. He had taught his child to whistle, dined with his servants, talked of “worldly things such as baking, brewing, enclosing, ploughing and mining,” preferred walking to riding, and denounced the debasement of the coinage. He seems to have been a kindly, homely, somewhat feckless person like many an excellent parish priest, who did not conceal his indignation at some of Northumberland’s deeds. He had voted against the act of November 1549 for a reform of the canon law, and on a later occasion his nonconformity brought him into conflict with the Council; he was also the only bishop who satisfied Hooper’s test of sacramental orthodoxy. The Council accordingly listened to the accusations of Ferrar’s chapter, and in 1552 he was summoned to London and imprisoned on a charge of praemunire incurred by omitting the king’s authority in a commission which he issued for the visitation of his diocese.

After Edward VI became king, Ferrar was likely appointed chaplain to Protector Somerset, a royal visitor, and bishop of St David’s through Bishop Barlow's influence, following Barlow's move to Bath and Wells in 1548. He was the first bishop appointed by letters patent under the act passed in 1547, bypassing the usual capitular election process; the service at his consecration was also new, being conducted in English. He preached at St Paul’s on November 11, dressed only as a priest instead of as a bishop, and criticized vestments and altars. At St David’s, he immediately faced issues with his notably volatile chapter, who, realizing he had fallen out of favor at court after Somerset's downfall in 1549, lodged a long list of absurd accusations against him. They claimed he had taught his child to whistle, dined with his servants, discussed “worldly things like baking, brewing, enclosing, ploughing, and mining,” preferred walking to riding, and condemned the devaluation of currency. He appeared to be a kind, down-to-earth, somewhat ineffectual person, similar to many good parish priests, who did not hide his outrage at some of Northumberland’s actions. He had voted against the act of November 1549 aimed at reforming canon law, and on another occasion, his dissenting views led to a clash with the Council; he was also the only bishop who passed Hooper’s test of sacramental orthodoxy. Consequently, the Council took note of the accusations from Ferrar’s chapter, and in 1552, he was summoned to London and imprisoned on a charge of praemunire for leaving out the king’s authority in a commission he issued for the visitation of his diocese.

Imprisonment on such a charge under Northumberland might have been expected to lead to liberation under Mary. But Ferrar had been a monk and was married. Even so, it is difficult to see on what legal ground he was kept in the queen’s bench prison after July 1553; for Mary herself was repudiating the royal authority in religion. Ferrar’s marriage accounts for the loss of his bishopric in March 1554, and his opinions for his further punishment. As soon as the heresy laws and ecclesiastical jurisdiction had been re-established, Ferrar was examined by Gardiner, and then with signal indecency sent down to be tried by Morgan, his successor in the bishopric of St David’s. He appealed from Morgan’s sentence to Pole as papal legate, but in vain, and was burnt at Caermarthen on the 30th of March 1555. It was perhaps the most wanton of all Mary’s acts of persecution; Ferrar had been no such protagonist of the Reformation as Cranmer, Ridley, Hooper and Latimer; he had had nothing to do with Northumberland’s or Wyatt’s conspiracy. He had 283 taken no part in politics, and, so far as is known, had not said a word or raised a hand against Mary. He was burnt simply because he could not change his religion with the law and would not pretend that he could; and his execution is a complete refutation of the idea that Mary only persecuted heretics because and when they were traitors.

Imprisonment on such a charge under Northumberland might have been expected to lead to release under Mary. But Ferrar had been a monk and was married. Even so, it's hard to see on what legal basis he was kept in the queen’s bench prison after July 1553; since Mary herself was rejecting royal authority in religion. Ferrar’s marriage explains the loss of his bishopric in March 1554, and his beliefs led to further punishment. Once the heresy laws and ecclesiastical jurisdiction were re-established, Ferrar was examined by Gardiner, and then, with shocking disrespect, sent to be tried by Morgan, his successor as bishop of St David’s. He appealed Morgan’s sentence to Pole as papal legate, but it was to no avail, and he was burned at Caermarthen on March 30, 1555. This was possibly one of the most senseless acts of persecution by Mary; Ferrar was not a major figure in the Reformation like Cranmer, Ridley, Hooper, and Latimer; he had nothing to do with Northumberland’s or Wyatt’s conspiracy. He was not involved in politics and, as far as is known, had not said anything or lifted a hand against Mary. He was executed simply because he could not change his religion to fit the law and would not pretend that he could; and his execution completely disproves the idea that Mary only persecuted heretics because they were traitors.

See Dictionary of National Biography, xviii. 380-382, and authorities there cited. Also Acts of the Privy Council (1550-1554); H.A.L. Fisher, Political History of England, vol. vi.

See Dictionary of National Biography, xviii. 380-382, and authorities there cited. Also Acts of the Privy Council (1550-1554); H.A.L. Fisher, Political History of England, vol. vi.

(A. F. P.)

FERRARA, a city and archiepiscopal see of Emilia, Italy, capital of the province of Ferrara, 30 m. N.N.E. of Bologna, situated 30 ft. above sea-level on the Po di Vomano, a branch channel of the main stream of the Po, which is 3½ m. N. Pop. (1901) 32,968 (town), 86,392 (commune). The town has broad streets and numerous palaces, which date from the 16th century, when it was the seat of the court of the house of Este, and had, it is said, 100,000 inhabitants.

FERRARA, a city and archiepiscopal see in Emilia, Italy, is the capital of the province of Ferrara, located 30 miles N.N.E. of Bologna. It sits 30 feet above sea level on the Po di Vomano, a side channel of the main Po river, which is 3½ miles to the north. The population (1901) was 32,968 (town), 86,392 (commune). The town features wide streets and many palaces dating back to the 16th century, when it was the center of the court of the house of Este, and reportedly had around 100,000 residents.

The most prominent building is the square castle of the house of Este, in the centre of the town, a brick building surrounded by a moat, with four towers. It was built after 1385 and partly restored in 1554; the pavilions on the top of the towers date from the latter year. Near it is the hospital of S. Anna, where Tasso was confined during his attack of insanity (1579-1586). The Palazzo del Municipio, rebuilt in the 18th century, was the earlier residence of the Este family. Close by is the cathedral of S. Giorgio, consecrated in 1135, when the Romanesque lower part of the main façade and the side façades were completed. It was built by Guglielmo degli Adelardi (d. 1146), who is buried in it. The upper part of the main façade, with arcades of pointed arches, dates from the 13th century, and the portal has recumbent lions and elaborate sculptures above. The interior was restored in the baroque style in 1712. The campanile, in the Renaissance style, dates from 1451-1493, but the last storey was added at the end of the 16th century. Opposite the cathedral is the Gothic Palazzo della Ragione, in brick (1315-1326), now the law-courts. A little way off is the university, which has faculties of law, medicine and natural science (hardly 100 students in all); the library has valuable MSS., including part of that of the Orlando Furioso and letters by Tasso. The other churches are of less interest than the cathedral, though S. Francesco, S. Benedetto, S. Maria in Vado and S. Cristoforo are all good early Renaissance buildings. The numerous early Renaissance palaces, often with good terra-cotta decorations, form quite a feature of Ferrara; few towns of Italy have so many of them proportionately, though they are mostly comparatively small in size. Among them may be noted those in the N. quarter (especially the four at the intersection of its two main streets), which was added by Ercole (Hercules) I. in 1492-1505, from the plans of Biagio Rossetti, and hence called the “Addizione Erculea.” The finest of these is the Palazzo de’ Diamanti, so called from the diamond points into which the blocks of stone with which it is faced are cut. It contains the municipal picture gallery, with a large number of pictures of artists of the school of Ferrara. This did not require prominence until the latter half of the 15th century, when its best masters were Cosimo Tura (1432-1495), Francesco Cossa (d. 1480) and Ercole dei Roberti (d. 1496). To this period are due famous frescoes in the Palazzo Schifanoia, which was built by the Este family; those of the lower row depict the life of Borso of Este, in the central row are the signs of the zodiac, and in the upper are allegorical representations of the months. The vestibule was decorated with stucco mouldings by Domenico di Paris of Padua. The building also contains fine choir-books with miniatures, and a collection of coins and Renaissance medals. The simple house of Ariosto, erected by himself after 1526, in which he died in 1532, lies farther west. The best Ferrarese masters of the 16th century of the Ferrara school were Lorenzo Costa (1460-1535), and Dosso Dossi (1479-1542), the most eminent of all, while Benvenuto Tisi (Garofalo, 1481-1559) is somewhat monotonous and insipid.

The most notable building is the square castle of the Este family, located in the center of town. It's a brick structure surrounded by a moat and has four towers. It was constructed after 1385 and partially restored in 1554; the pavilions on top of the towers are from that year. Nearby is the hospital of S. Anna, where Tasso was held during his breakdown (1579-1586). The Palazzo del Municipio, which was rebuilt in the 18th century, was the original home of the Este family. Close by is the cathedral of S. Giorgio, consecrated in 1135, when the Romanesque lower part of the main façade and the side façades were completed. It was built by Guglielmo degli Adelardi (d. 1146), who is interred there. The upper part of the main façade, featuring arcades with pointed arches, dates back to the 13th century, and the portal has recumbent lions and intricate sculptures above. The interior was renovated in the baroque style in 1712. The campanile, designed in the Renaissance style, was built between 1451-1493, with the last level added at the end of the 16th century. Facing the cathedral is the Gothic Palazzo della Ragione, built of brick (1315-1326), which now serves as the law courts. A short distance away is the university, which offers law, medicine, and natural science programs (with barely 100 students in total); its library holds valuable manuscripts, including part of the Orlando Furioso and letters by Tasso. The other churches are less notable than the cathedral, although S. Francesco, S. Benedetto, S. Maria in Vado, and S. Cristoforo are all impressive early Renaissance buildings. The many early Renaissance palaces, often featuring beautiful terra-cotta decorations, are a significant characteristic of Ferrara; few towns in Italy have as many of them relatively, even though they are mostly quite small. Notably, those in the northern quarter (especially the four at the junction of its two main streets) were constructed by Ercole (Hercules) I. between 1492-1505, based on the designs of Biagio Rossetti, and are known as the “Addizione Erculea.” The most impressive of these is the Palazzo de’ Diamanti, named for the diamond-shaped points into which the stone blocks on its exterior are carved. It houses the municipal picture gallery, featuring numerous works by artists from the Ferrara school. The school's prominence didn't emerge until the latter half of the 15th century, when its top masters included Cosimo Tura (1432-1495), Francesco Cossa (d. 1480), and Ercole dei Roberti (d. 1496). This period also produced famous frescoes in the Palazzo Schifanoia, which was built by the Este family; the lower row depicts the life of Borso of Este, the central row features the signs of the zodiac, and the upper row showcases allegorical representations of the months. The vestibule was decorated with stucco moldings by Domenico di Paris from Padua. The building also contains valuable choir books with miniatures and a collection of coins and Renaissance medals. The simple house of Ariosto, built by him after 1526, where he died in 1532, is further to the west. The leading masters of the Ferrara school in the 16th century were Lorenzo Costa (1460-1535) and Dosso Dossi (1479-1542), the most distinguished of them, whereas Benvenuto Tisi (Garofalo, 1481-1559) is considered relatively uniform and dull.

The origin of Ferrara is uncertain, and probabilities are against the supposition that it occupies the site of the ancient Forum Alieni. It was probably a settlement formed by the inhabitants of the lagoons at the mouth of the Po. It appears first in a document of Aistulf of 753 or 754 as a city forming part of the exarchate of Ravenna. After 984 we find it a fief of Tedaldo, count of Modena and Canossa, nephew of the emperor Otho I. It afterwards made itself independent, and in 1101 was taken by siege by the countess Matilda. At this time it was mainly dominated by several great families, among them the Adelardi.

The origin of Ferrara is unclear, and it's unlikely that it sits on the site of the ancient Forum Alienum. It was probably a settlement created by the people living in the lagoons at the mouth of the Po River. It first appears in a document from Aistulf dated 753 or 754 as a city that was part of the exarchate of Ravenna. After 984, it became a fief of Tedaldo, the count of Modena and Canossa, who was the nephew of Emperor Otho I. Later, it gained independence and in 1101 was captured by Countess Matilda. At that time, it was mostly controlled by several powerful families, including the Adelardi.

In 1146 Guglielmo, the last of the Adelardi, died, and his property passed, as the dowry of his niece Marchesella, to Azzolino d’ Este. There was considerable hostility between the newly entered family and the Salinguerra, but after considerable struggles Azzo Novello was nominated perpetual podestà in 1242; in 1259 he took Ezzelino of Verona prisoner in battle. His grandson, Obizzo II. (1264-1293), succeeded him, and the pope nominated him captain-general and defender of the states of the Church; and the house of Este was from henceforth settled in Ferrara. Niccolò III. (1393-1441) received several popes with great magnificence, especially Eugene IV., who held a council here in 1438. His son Borso received the fiefs of Modena and Reggio from the emperor Frederick III. as first duke in 1452 (in which year Girolamo Savonarola was born here), and in 1470 was made duke of Ferrara by Pope Paul II. Ercole I. (1471-1505) carried on a war with Venice and increased the magnificence of the city. His son Alphonso I. married Lucrezia Borgia, and continued the war with Venice with success. In 1509 he was excommunicated by Julius II., and attacked the pontifical army in 1512 outside Ravenna, which he took. Gaston de Foix fell in the battle, in which he was supporting Alphonso. With the succeeding popes he was able to make peace. He was the patron of Ariosto from 1518 onwards. His son Ercole II. married Renata, daughter of Louis XII. of France; he too embellished Ferrara during his reign (1534-1559). His son Alphonso II. married Barbara, sister of the emperor Maximilian II. He raised the glory of Ferrara to its highest point, and was the patron of Tasso and Guarini, favouring, as the princes of his house had always done, the arts and sciences. He had no legitimate male heir, and in 1597 Ferrara was claimed as a vacant fief by Pope Clement VIII., as was also Comacchio. A fortress was constructed by him on the site of the castle of Tedaldo, at the W. angle of the town. The town remained a part of the states of the Church, the fortress being occupied by an Austrian garrison from 1832 until 1859, when it became part of the kingdom of Italy.

In 1146, Guglielmo, the last of the Adelardi, passed away, and his property went to Azzolino d’Este as part of his niece Marchesella's dowry. There was a lot of tension between the new family and the Salinguerra, but after much struggle, Azzo Novello was appointed perpetual podestà in 1242; in 1259, he captured Ezzelino of Verona in battle. His grandson, Obizzo II (1264-1293), took over and was named captain-general and defender of the states of the Church by the pope, establishing the Este family in Ferrara. Niccolò III (1393-1441) hosted several popes magnificently, especially Eugene IV, who held a council there in 1438. His son, Borso, received the fiefs of Modena and Reggio from Emperor Frederick III, becoming the first duke in 1452 (the same year Girolamo Savonarola was born there) and was made duke of Ferrara by Pope Paul II in 1470. Ercole I (1471-1505) waged war against Venice and enhanced the city's magnificence. His son, Alphonso I, married Lucrezia Borgia and continued the war against Venice successfully. In 1509, he was excommunicated by Julius II and attacked the papal army outside Ravenna in 1512, defeating them. Gaston de Foix fell in the battle while supporting Alphonso. He eventually negotiated peace with the succeeding popes and became the patron of Ariosto from 1518 onwards. His son, Ercole II, married Renata, daughter of Louis XII of France, and also beautified Ferrara during his reign (1534-1559). His son, Alphonso II, married Barbara, sister of Emperor Maximilian II. He brought Ferrara to its greatest glory and supported Tasso and Guarini, promoting the arts and sciences like his ancestors had always done. Since he had no legitimate male heir, in 1597, Ferrara was claimed as an empty fief by Pope Clement VIII, along with Comacchio. He built a fortress on the site of the castle of Tedaldo at the west corner of the town. The town remained part of the states of the Church, with the fortress occupied by an Austrian garrison from 1832 until 1859, when it became part of the Kingdom of Italy.

A considerable area within the walls of Ferrara is unoccupied by buildings, especially on the north, where, the handsome Renaissance church of S. Cristoforo, with the cemetery, stands; but modern times have brought a renewal of industrial activity. Ferrara is on the main line from Bologna to Padua and Venice, and has branches to Ravenna and Poggio Rusco (for Suzzara).

A large section within the walls of Ferrara is free of buildings, especially to the north, where the beautiful Renaissance church of S. Cristoforo and its cemetery are located. However, modern times have seen a resurgence in industrial activity. Ferrara is on the main train line from Bologna to Padua and Venice, with connections to Ravenna and Poggio Rusco (for Suzzara).

See G. Agnelli, Ferrara e Pomposa (Bergamo, 1902); E.G. Gardner, Dukes and Poets of Ferrara (London, 1904).

See G. Agnelli, Ferrara e Pomposa (Bergamo, 1902); E.G. Gardner, Dukes and Poets of Ferrara (London, 1904).


FERRARA-FLORENCE, COUNCIL OF (1438 ff.). The council of Ferrara and Florence was the culmination of a series of futile medieval attempts to reunite the Greek and Roman churches. The emperor, John VI. Palaeologus, had been advised by his experienced father to avoid all serious negotiations, as they had invariably resulted in increased bitterness; but John, in view of the rapid dismemberment of his empire by the Turks, felt constrained to seek a union. The situation was, however, complicated by the strife which broke out between the pope (Eugenius IV.) and the oecumenical council of Basel. Both sides sent embassies to the emperor at Constantinople, as both saw the importance of gaining the recognition and support of the East, for on this practically depended the victory in the struggle between papacy and council for the supreme jurisdiction over the church (see Councils). The Greeks, fearing the domination of the papacy, were at first more favourably inclined toward the conciliar party; but the astute diplomacy of the Roman representatives, who have been charged by certain Greek writers with the skilful use of money and of lies, won over the emperor. 284 With a retinue of about 700 persons, entertained in Italy at the pope’s expense, he reached Ferrara early in March 1438. Here a council had been formally opened in January by the papal party, a bull of the previous year having promptly taken advantage of the death of the Emperor Sigismund by ordering the removal of the council of Basel to Ferrara; and one of the first acts of the assemblage at Ferrara had been to excommunicate the remnant at Basel. A month after the coming of the Greeks, the Union Synod was solemnly inaugurated on the 9th of April 1438. After six months of negotiation, the first formal session was held on the 8th of October, and on the 14th the real issues were reached. The time-honoured question of the filioque was still in the foreground when it seemed for several reasons advisable to transfer the council to Florence: Ferrara was threatened by condottieri, the pest was raging; Florence promised a welcome subvention, and a situation further inland would make it more difficult for uneasy Greek bishops to flee the synod.

FERRARA-FLORENCE, COUNCIL OF (1438 ff.). The council of Ferrara and Florence marked the end of a long series of unsuccessful medieval efforts to reunite the Greek and Roman churches. The emperor, John VI. Palaeologus, had been advised by his wise father to steer clear of serious negotiations, as they always led to more resentment; however, John, faced with the quick disintegration of his empire by the Turks, felt he had no choice but to pursue a union. The situation became more complicated by the conflict that erupted between the pope (Eugenius IV.) and the ecumenical council of Basel. Both sides sent representatives to the emperor in Constantinople, recognizing the importance of securing the East’s recognition and support, which was crucial in the ongoing struggle for supreme authority over the church between the papacy and the council (see Councils). The Greeks, worried about the power of the papacy, initially leaned more towards the conciliar party; however, the clever diplomacy of the Roman representatives, who some Greek writers claimed used money and deceit skillfully, eventually won over the emperor. 284 Accompanied by about 700 people, who were hosted in Italy at the pope’s expense, he arrived in Ferrara in early March 1438. A council had officially been opened by the papal party in January, following a bull from the previous year that took advantage of the death of Emperor Sigismund by ordering the relocation of the council from Basel to Ferrara, and one of the first actions of the assembly at Ferrara was to excommunicate the remnants at Basel. A month after the Greeks' arrival, the Union Synod was officially inaugurated on April 9, 1438. After six months of negotiations, the first formal session took place on October 8, and on the 14th, the main issues were addressed. The long-standing question of the filioque was still a priority when it became advisable for several reasons to move the council to Florence: Ferrara was under threat from mercenaries, there was a plague outbreak; Florence offered a generous subsidy, and a more inland location would make it harder for anxious Greek bishops to leave the synod.

The first session at Florence and the seventeenth of the union council took place on the 26th of February 1439; there ensued long debates and negotiations on the filioque, in which Markos Eugenikos, archbishop of Ephesus, spoke for the irreconcilables; but the Greeks under the leadership of Bessarion, archbishop of Nicaea, and Isidor, metropolitan of Kiev, at length made a declaration on the filioque (4th of June), to which all save Markos Eugenikos subscribed. On the next topic of importance, the primacy of the pope, the project of union nearly suffered shipwreck; but here a vague formula was finally constructed which, while acknowledging the pope’s right to govern the church, attempted to safeguard as well the rights of the patriarchs. On the basis of the above-mentioned agreements, as well as of minor discussions as to purgatory and the Eucharist, the decree of union was drawn up in Latin and in Greek, and signed on the 5th of July by the pope and the Greek emperor, and all the members of the synod save Eugenikos and one Greek bishop who had fled; and on the following day it was solemnly published in the cathedral of Florence. The decree explains the filioque in a manner acceptable to the Greeks, but does not require them to insert the term in their symbol; it demands that celebrants follow the custom of their own church as to the employment of leavened or unleavened bread in the Eucharist. It states essentially the Roman doctrine of purgatory, and asserts the world-wide primacy of the pope as the “true vicar of Christ and the head of the whole Church, the Father and teacher of all Christians”; but, to satisfy the Greeks, inconsistently adds that all the rights and privileges of the Oriental patriarchs are to be maintained unimpaired. After the consummation of the union the Greeks remained in Florence for several weeks, discussing matters such as the liturgy, the administration of the sacraments, and divorce; and they sailed from Venice to Constantinople in October.

The first session in Florence and the seventeenth of the union council took place on February 26, 1439; there were lengthy debates and discussions about the filioque, in which Markos Eugenikos, the archbishop of Ephesus, represented the irreconcilables. However, the Greeks, led by Bessarion, the archbishop of Nicaea, and Isidor, the metropolitan of Kiev, eventually made a statement on the filioque (June 4), to which all agreed except Markos Eugenikos. On the next important topic, the primacy of the pope, the union project nearly fell apart; but a vague formula was finally created that acknowledged the pope’s right to govern the church while trying to protect the rights of the patriarchs. Based on the agreements mentioned above, along with minor discussions about purgatory and the Eucharist, the decree of union was prepared in Latin and Greek, and signed on July 5 by the pope and the Greek emperor, as well as all members of the synod except Eugenikos and one Greek bishop who had fled; the following day it was formally announced in the Florence cathedral. The decree explains the filioque in a way acceptable to the Greeks but doesn’t require them to include the term in their symbol; it insists that celebrants follow their own church's practice regarding leavened or unleavened bread in the Eucharist. It essentially states the Roman doctrine of purgatory and asserts the global primacy of the pope as the "true vicar of Christ and the head of the whole Church, the Father and teacher of all Christians"; however, to appease the Greeks, it inconsistently adds that all rights and privileges of the Oriental patriarchs are to remain intact. After the union was concluded, the Greeks stayed in Florence for several weeks discussing issues like the liturgy, administration of the sacraments, and divorce; they then sailed from Venice to Constantinople in October.

The council, however, desirous of negotiating unions with the minor churches of the East, remained in session for several years, and seems never to have reached a formal adjournment. The decree for the Armenians was published on the 22nd of November 1439; they accepted the filioque and the Athanasian creed, rejected Monophysitism and Monothelitism, agreed to the developed scholastic doctrine concerning the seven sacraments, and conformed their calendar to the Western in certain points. On the 26th of April 1441 the pope announced that the synod would be transferred to the Lateran; but before leaving Florence a union was negotiated with the Oriental Christians known as Jacobites, through a monk named Andreas, who, at least as regards Abyssinia, acted in excess of his powers. The Decretum pro Jacobitis, published on the 4th of February 1442, is, like that for the Armenians, of high dogmatic interest, as it summarizes the doctrine of the great medieval scholastics on the points in controversy. The decree for the Syrians, published at the Lateran on the 30th of September 1444, and those for the Chaldeans (Nestorians) and the Maronites (Monothelites), published at the last known session of the council on the 7th of August 1445, added nothing of doctrinal importance. Though the direct results of these unions were the restoration of prestige to the absolutist papacy and the bringing of Byzantine men of letters, like Bessarion, to the West, the outcome was on the whole disappointing. Of the complicated history of the “United” churches of the East it suffices to say that Rome succeeded in securing but fragments, though important fragments, of the greater organizations. As for the Greeks, the union met with much opposition, particularly from the monks, and was rejected by three Oriental patriarchs at a synod of Jerusalem in 1443; and after various ineffective attempts to enforce it, the fall of Constantinople in 1453 put an end to the endeavour. As Turkish interests demanded the isolation of the Oriental Christians from their western brethren, and as the orthodox Greek nationalists feared Latinization more than Mahommedan rule, a patriarch hostile to the union was chosen, and a synod of Constantinople in 1472 formally rejected the decisions of Florence.

The council, wanting to negotiate unions with the smaller Eastern churches, stayed in session for several years and seems to have never officially adjourned. The decree for the Armenians was published on November 22, 1439; they accepted the filioque and the Athanasian creed, rejected Monophysitism and Monothelitism, agreed to the developed scholastic doctrine about the seven sacraments, and adjusted their calendar to align with the Western one in certain matters. On April 26, 1441, the pope announced that the synod would move to the Lateran; but before leaving Florence, a union was arranged with the Oriental Christians known as Jacobites, through a monk named Andreas, who, at least regarding Abyssinia, acted beyond his authority. The Decretum pro Jacobitis, published on February 4, 1442, is, like the one for the Armenians, of significant dogmatic interest, as it summarizes the doctrines of the great medieval scholastics on the issues at hand. The decree for the Syrians, published at the Lateran on September 30, 1444, along with those for the Chaldeans (Nestorians) and the Maronites (Monothelites), published at the last known session of the council on August 7, 1445, did not add anything of doctrinal importance. While the direct results of these unions were the restoration of prestige to the absolute papacy and the transition of Byzantine intellectuals, like Bessarion, to the West, the overall outcome was disappointing. Regarding the complex history of the “United” churches of the East, it’s enough to say that Rome managed to secure only fragments, though significant ones, of the larger organizations. As for the Greeks, the union faced much opposition, especially from the monks, and was rejected by three Oriental patriarchs at a synod in Jerusalem in 1443; and after various unsuccessful attempts to enforce it, the fall of Constantinople in 1453 ended the effort. As Turkish interests promoted the isolation of the Oriental Christians from their Western counterparts, and since orthodox Greek nationalists feared Latinization more than Muslim rule, a patriarch opposed to the union was chosen, and a synod in Constantinople in 1472 formally rejected the decisions made in Florence.

Authorities.—Hardouin, vol. 9; Mansi, vols. 31 A, 31 B, 35; Sylvester Sguropulus (properly Syropulus), Vera historia Unionis, transl. R. Creyghton (Hague, 1660); Cecconi, Studi storici sul concilio di Firenze (Florence, 1869), (appendix); J. Zhishman, Die Unionsverhandlungen ... bis zum Concil von Ferrara (Vienna, 1858); Gorski, of Moscow, 1847, The History of the Council of Florence, trans. from the Russian by Basil Popoff, ed. by J.M. Neale (London, 1861); C.J. von Hefele, Conciliengeschichte, vol. 7 (Freiburg i. B., 1874), 659-761, 793 ff., 814 ff.; H. Vast, Le Cardinal Bessarion (Paris, 1878), 53-113; A. Warschauer, Über die Quellen zur Geschichte des Florentiner Concils (Breslau, 1881), (Dissertation); M. Creighton, A History of the Papacy during the Period of the Reformation, vol. 2 (London, 1882), 173-194 (vivid); Knöpfler, in Wetzer and Welte’s Kirchenlexikon, vol. 4 (2nd ed., Freiburg i. B., 1885), 1363-1380 (instructive); L. Pastor, History of the Popes, vol. 1 (London, 1891), 315 ff.; F. Kattenbusch, Lehrbuch der vergleichenden Confessionskunde, vol. 1 (Freiburg i. B., 1892), 128 ff.; N. Kalogeras, archbishop of Patras, “Die Verhandlungen zwischen der orthodox-katholischen Kirche und dem Konzil von Basel über die Wiedervereinigung der Kirchen” (Internationale Theologische Zeitschrift), vol. 1 (Bern, 1893, 39-57); P. Tschackert, in Herzog-Hauck, Realencyklopädie, vol. 6 (3rd ed., Leipzig, 1899), 45-48 (good bibliography); Walter Norden, Das Papsttum und Byzanz: Die Trennung der beiden Mächte und das Problem ihrer Wiedervereinigung bis 1453 (Berlin, 1903), 712 ff.

Authorities.—Hardouin, vol. 9; Mansi, vols. 31 A, 31 B, 35; Sylvester Sguropulus (correctly Syropulus), True History of the Union, translated by R. Creyghton (Hague, 1660); Cecconi, Historical Studies on the Council of Florence (Florence, 1869), (appendix); J. Zhishman, The Union Negotiations ... up to the Council of Ferrara (Vienna, 1858); Gorski, of Moscow, 1847, The History of the Council of Florence, translated from the Russian by Basil Popoff, edited by J.M. Neale (London, 1861); C.J. von Hefele, History of Councils, vol. 7 (Freiburg i. B., 1874), 659-761, 793 ff., 814 ff.; H. Vast, Cardinal Bessarion (Paris, 1878), 53-113; A. Warschauer, On the Sources for the History of the Florentine Council (Breslau, 1881), (Dissertation); M. Creighton, A History of the Papacy during the Reformation Period, vol. 2 (London, 1882), 173-194 (vivid); Knöpfler, in Wetzer and Welte’s Church Encyclopedia, vol. 4 (2nd ed., Freiburg i. B., 1885), 1363-1380 (informative); L. Pastor, History of the Popes, vol. 1 (London, 1891), 315 ff.; F. Kattenbusch, Textbook of Comparative Confessional Studies, vol. 1 (Freiburg i. B., 1892), 128 ff.; N. Kalogeras, archbishop of Patras, “The Negotiations between the Orthodox-Catholic Church and the Council of Basel regarding the Reunion of the Churches” (International Theological Journal), vol. 1 (Bern, 1893, 39-57); P. Tschackert, in Herzog-Hauck, Real Encyclopedia, vol. 6 (3rd ed., Leipzig, 1899), 45-48 (good bibliography); Walter Norden, The Papacy and Byzantium: The Separation of the Two Powers and the Problem of Their Reunion until 1453 (Berlin, 1903), 712 ff.

(W. W. R.*)

FERRARI, GAUDENZIO (1484-1549), Italian painter and sculptor, of the Milanese, or more strictly the Piedmontese, school, was born at Valduggia, Piedmont, and is said (very dubiously) to have learned the elements of painting at Vercelli from Girolamo Giovenone. He next studied in Milan, in the school of Scotto, and some say of Luini; towards 1504 he proceeded to Florence, and afterwards (it used to be alleged) to Rome. His pictorial style may be considered as derived mainly from the old Milanese school, with a considerable tinge of the influence of Da Vinci, and later on of Raphael; in his personal manner there was something of the demonstrative and fantastic. The gentler qualities diminished, and the stronger intensified, as he progressed. By 1524 he was at Varallo in Piedmont, and here, in the chapel of the Sacro Monte, the sanctuary of the Piedmontese pilgrims, he executed his most memorable work. This is a fresco of the Crucifixion, with a multitude of figures, no less than twenty-six of them being modelled in actual relief, and coloured; on the vaulted ceiling are eighteen lamenting angels, powerful in expression. Other leading examples are the following. In the Royal Gallery, Turin, a “Pietà,” an able early work. In the Brera Gallery, Milan, “St Katharine miraculously preserved from the Torture of the Wheel,” a very characteristic example, hard and forcible in colour, thronged in composition, turbulent in emotion; also several frescoes, chiefly from the church of Santa Maria della Pace, three of them being from the history of Joachim and Anna. In the cathedral of Vercelli, the choir, the “Virgin with Angels and Saints under an Orange Tree.” In the refectory of San Paolo, the “Last Supper.” In the church of San Cristoforo, the transept (in 1532-1535), a series of paintings in which Ferrari’s scholar Lanini assisted him; by Ferrari himself are the “Birth of the Virgin,” the “Annunciation,” the “Visitation,” the “Adoration of the Shepherds and Kings,” the “Crucifixion,” the “Assumption of the Virgin,” all full of life and decided character, though somewhat mannered. 285 In the Louvre, “St Paul Meditating.” In Varallo, convent of the Minorites (1507), a “Presentation in the Temple,” and “Christ among the Doctors,” and (after 1510) the “History of Christ,” in twenty-one subjects; also an ancona in six compartments, named the “Ancona di San Gaudenzio.” In Santa Maria di Loreto, near Varallo (after 1527), an “Adoration.” In the church of Saronno, near Milan, the cupola (1535), a “Glory of Angels,” in which the beauty of the school of Da Vinci alternates with bravura of foreshortenings in the mode of Correggio. In Milan, Santa Maria delle Grazie (1542), the “Scourging of Christ,” an “Ecce Homo” and a “Crucifixion.” The “Scourging,” or else a “Last Supper,” in the Passione of Milan (unfinished), is regarded as Ferrari’s latest work. He was a very prolific painter, distinguished by strong expression, animation and fulness of composition, and abundant invention; he was skilful in painting horses, and his decisive rather hard colour is marked by a partiality for shot tints in drapery. In general character, his work appertains more to the 15th than the 16th century. His subjects were always of the sacred order. Ferrari’s death took place in Milan. Besides Lanini, already mentioned, Andrea Solario, Giambattista della Cerva and Fermo Stella were three of his principal scholars. He is represented to us as a good man, attached to his country and his art, jovial and sometimes facetious, but an enemy of scandal. The reputation which he enjoyed soon after his death was very great, but it has not fully stood the test of time. Lomazzo went so far as to place him seventh among the seven prime painters of Italy.

FERRARI, GAUDENZIO (1484-1549), was an Italian painter and sculptor from the Milanese, or more specifically, the Piedmontese school. He was born in Valduggia, Piedmont, and it is said (though this is very questionable) that he learned the basics of painting in Vercelli from Girolamo Giovenone. He then studied in Milan, in the school of Scotto, with some saying he also studied under Luini. Around 1504, he went to Florence, and afterwards it was said he traveled to Rome. His painting style is mainly derived from the old Milanese school, with significant influences from Da Vinci and later Raphael; his personal approach had something demonstrative and fantastic about it. The gentler aspects of his work faded while the stronger elements became more pronounced as he developed. By 1524, he was in Varallo, Piedmont, where he created his most famous work in the chapel of the Sacro Monte, a sanctuary for Piedmontese pilgrims. This is a fresco of the Crucifixion featuring a multitude of figures, with twenty-six of them modeled in actual relief and colored; on the vaulted ceiling, eighteen expressive angels are depicted in lament. Other notable works include: in the Royal Gallery, Turin, a “Pietà,” an impressive early work; in the Brera Gallery, Milan, “St Katharine Miraculously Preserved from the Torture of the Wheel,” a very characteristic piece, which is bold in color, dense in composition, and full of emotion; as well as several frescoes, mainly from the church of Santa Maria della Pace, three of which illustrate the history of Joachim and Anna. In the cathedral of Vercelli, there is the “Virgin with Angels and Saints under an Orange Tree” in the choir. In the refectory of San Paolo, he painted the “Last Supper.” In the church of San Cristoforo, he worked on a series of paintings in the transept (1532-1535), assisted by his student Lanini; Ferrari himself produced the “Birth of the Virgin,” the “Annunciation,” the “Visitation,” the “Adoration of the Shepherds and Kings,” the “Crucifixion,” and the “Assumption of the Virgin,” all vibrant and full of character, although somewhat stylized. 285 In the Louvre, there’s “St Paul Meditating.” In Varallo, at the convent of the Minorites (1507), he created a “Presentation in the Temple” and “Christ among the Doctors,” along with a series of twenty-one scenes known as the “History of Christ” (after 1510); he also made an eight-part altarpiece called the “Ancona di San Gaudenzio.” In Santa Maria di Loreto, near Varallo (after 1527), he painted an “Adoration.” In the church of Saronno, near Milan, the cupola (1535) features a “Glory of Angels,” where the beauty of the Da Vinci school blends with the bravura of foreshortenings in the style of Correggio. In Milan, at Santa Maria delle Grazie (1542), he created the “Scourging of Christ,” an “Ecce Homo,” and a “Crucifixion.” The “Scourging,” or possibly an unfinished “Last Supper” in the Passione of Milan, is considered to be Ferrari’s last work. He was a very productive painter, known for his strong expression, liveliness, fullness of composition, and abundant creativity; he was skilled at painting horses, and his bold, somewhat hard colors often featured shot tints in drapery. Overall, his work is more aligned with the 15th century than the 16th. His subjects were consistently sacred. Ferrari passed away in Milan. Besides Lanini, who has already been mentioned, some of his main pupils included Andrea Solario, Giambattista della Cerva, and Fermo Stella. He is remembered as a good man, devoted to his country and art, jovial and sometimes humorous, but opposed to scandal. The reputation he had shortly after his death was quite significant, but it hasn’t completely endured over time. Lomazzo even ranked him seventh among the seven leading painters of Italy.

See G. Bordiga, two works concerning Gaudenzio Ferrari (1821 and 1835); G. Colombo, Vita ed opere di Gaudenzio Ferrari (1881); Ethel Halsey, Gaudenzio Ferrari (in the series Great Masters, 1904).

See G. Bordiga, two works about Gaudenzio Ferrari (1821 and 1835); G. Colombo, Vita ed opere di Gaudenzio Ferrari (1881); Ethel Halsey, Gaudenzio Ferrari (in the series Great Masters, 1904).

There was another painter nearly contemporary with Gaudenzio, Difendente Ferrari, also of the Lombard school. His celebrity is by no means equal to that of Gaudenzio; but Kugler (1887, as edited by Layard) pronounced him to be “a good and original colourist, and the best artist that Piedmont has produced.”

There was another painter who lived around the same time as Gaudenzio, Difendente Ferrari, also from the Lombard school. His fame is not nearly as great as Gaudenzio's; however, Kugler (1887, as edited by Layard) described him as “a good and original colorist, and the best artist that Piedmont has produced.”

(W. M. R.)

FERRARI, GIUSEPPE (1812-1876), Italian philosopher, historian and politician, was born at Milan on the 7th of March 1812, and died in Rome on the 2nd of July 1876. He studied law at Pavia, and took the degree of doctor in 1831. A follower of Romagnosi (d. 1835) and Giovan Battista Vico (q.v.), his first works were an article in the Biblioteca Italiana entitled “Mente di Gian Domenico Romagnosi” (1835), and a complete edition of the works of Vico, prefaced by an appreciation (1835). Finding Italy uncongenial to his ideas, he went to France and, in 1839, produced in Paris his Vico et l’Italie, followed by La Nouvelle Religion de Campanella and La Théorie de l’erreur. On account of these works he was made Docteur-ès-lettres of the Sorbonne and professor of philosophy at Rochefort (1840). His views, however, provoked antagonism, and in 1842 he was appointed to the chair of philosophy at Strassburg. After fresh trouble with the clergy, he returned to Paris and published a defence of his theories in a work entitled Idées sur la politique de Platon et d’Aristote. After a short connexion with the college at Bourges, he devoted himself from 1849 to 1858 exclusively to writing. The works of this period are Les Philosophes Salariés, Machiavel juge des révolutions de notre temps (1849), La Federazione repubblicana (1851), La Filosofia della rivoluzione (1851), L’ Italia dopo il colpo di Stato (1852), Histoire des révolutions, ou Guelfes et Gibelins (1858; Italian trans., 1871-1873). In 1859 he returned to Italy, where he opposed Cavour, and upheld federalism against the policy of a single Italian monarchy. In spite of this opposition, he held chairs of philosophy at Turin, Milan and Rome in succession, and during several administrations represented the college of Gavirate in the chamber. He was a member of the council of education and was made senator on the 15th of May 1876. Amongst other works may be mentioned Histoire de la raison d’état, La China et l’ Europa, Corso d’ istoria degli scrittori politici italiani. A sceptic in philosophy and a revolutionist in politics, rejoicing in controversy of all kinds, he was admired as a man, as an orator, and as a writer.

FERRARI, GIUSEPPE (1812-1876), Italian philosopher, historian, and politician, was born in Milan on March 7, 1812, and died in Rome on July 2, 1876. He studied law at Pavia and earned his doctorate in 1831. A follower of Romagnosi (d. 1835) and Giovan Battista Vico (q.v.), his early works included an article in the Biblioteca Italiana titled “Mind of Gian Domenico Romagnosi” (1835) and a complete edition of Vico's works, which he introduced with an appreciation (1835). Finding Italy unwelcoming to his ideas, he moved to France, where in 1839 he released Vico et l’Italie in Paris, followed by La Nouvelle Religion de Campanella and La Théorie de l’erreur. Because of these works, he was awarded a Docteur-ès-lettres from the Sorbonne and became a philosophy professor at Rochefort (1840). However, his views sparked controversy, and in 1842 he was appointed to the philosophy chair at Strassburg. After further issues with the clergy, he returned to Paris and defended his ideas in a work titled Ideas on the Politics of Plato and Aristotle. After a brief stint at the college in Bourges, he focused solely on writing from 1849 to 1858. The works from this period include Les Philosophes Salariés, Machiavelli as a Judge of the Revolutions of Our Time (1849), La Federazione repubblicana (1851), La Filosofia della rivoluzione (1851), L’ Italia dopo il colpo di Stato (1852), and History of Revolutions, or Guelfs and Ghibellines (1858; Italian translation, 1871-1873). In 1859, he returned to Italy, where he opposed Cavour and supported federalism over the idea of a single Italian monarchy. Despite this opposition, he held philosophy positions in Turin, Milan, and Rome consecutively and represented the college of Gavirate in parliament during several administrations. He served on the education council and was made a senator on May 15, 1876. Other notable works include History of State Reason, China and Europe, and Course on the History of Italian Political Writers. A skeptic in philosophy and a revolutionary in politics, relishing in all sorts of debate, he was admired as a person, speaker, and writer.

See Marro Macchi, Annuario istorico italiano (Milan, 1877); Mazzoleni, Giuseppe Ferrari; Werner, Die ital. Philosophie des 19. Jahrh. vol. 3 (Vienna, 1885); Überweg, History of Philosophy (Eng. trans. ii. 461 foll.).

See Marro Macchi, Annuario istorico italiano (Milan, 1877); Mazzoleni, Giuseppe Ferrari; Werner, Die ital. Philosophie des 19. Jahrh. vol. 3 (Vienna, 1885); Überweg, History of Philosophy (Eng. trans. ii. 461 foll.).


FERRARI, PAOLO (1822-1889), Italian dramatist, was born at Modena. After producing some minor pieces, in 1852 he made his reputation as a playwright with Goldoni e le sue sedici commedie. Among numerous later plays his comedy Parini e la satira (1857) had considerable success. Ferrari may be regarded as a follower of Goldoni, modelling himself on the French theatrical methods. His collected plays were published in 1877-1880.

FERRARI, PAOLO (1822-1889), Italian playwright, was born in Modena. After writing some minor works, he gained recognition as a playwright in 1852 with Goldoni e le sue sedici commedie. Among his many later plays, his comedy Parini e la satira (1857) was quite successful. Ferrari can be seen as a follower of Goldoni, modeling himself after French theatrical methods. His collected plays were published between 1877 and 1880.


FERREIRA, ANTONIO (1528-1569), Portuguese poet, was a native of Lisbon; his father held the post of escrivão de fazenda in the house of the duke of Coimbra at Setubal, so that he must there have met the great adventurer Mendes Pinto. In 1547-1548 he went to the university of Coimbra, and on the 16th of July 1551 took his bachelor’s degree. The Sonnets forming the First Book in his collected works date from 1552 and contain the history of his early love for an unknown lady. They seem to have been written in Coimbra or during vacations in Lisbon; and if some are dry and stilted, others, like the admirable No. 45, are full of feeling and tears. The Sonnets in the Second Book were inspired by D. Maria Pimentel, whom he afterwards married, and they are marked by that chastity of sentiment, seriousness and ardent patriotism which characterized the man and the writer. Ferreira’s ideal, as a poet, was to win “the applause of the good,” and, in the preface to his poems, he says, “I am content with this glory, that I have loved my land and my people.” He was intimate with princes, nobles and the most distinguished literary men of the time, such as the scholarly Diogo de Teive and the poets Bernardes, Caminha and Corte-Real, as well as with the aged Sá de Miranda, the founder of the classical school of which Ferreira became the foremost representative.

FERREIRA, ANTONIO (1528-1569), Portuguese poet, was from Lisbon; his father worked as an escrivão de fazenda in the household of the Duke of Coimbra in Setubal, where he likely met the famous adventurer Mendes Pinto. Between 1547 and 1548, he attended the University of Coimbra, and on July 16, 1551, he earned his bachelor's degree. The sonnets in the First Book of his collected works are from 1552 and tell the story of his early love for an unknown woman. These appear to have been written in Coimbra or during breaks in Lisbon; while some are dry and formal, others, like the beautiful No. 45, are full of emotion and tears. The sonnets in the Second Book were inspired by D. Maria Pimentel, whom he later married, and they are characterized by the purity of sentiment, seriousness, and passionate patriotism that defined both the man and the writer

The death in 1554 of Prince John, the heir to the throne, drew from him, as from Camoens, Bernardes and Caminha, a poetical lament, which consisted of an elegy and two eclogues, imitative of Virgil and Horace, and devoid of interest. On the 14th of July 1555 he took his doctor’s degree, an event which was celebrated, according to custom, by a sort of Roman triumph, and he stayed on as a professor, finding Coimbra with its picturesque environs congenial to his poetical tastes and love of a country life. The year 1557 produced his sixth elegy, addressed to the son of the great Albuquerque, a poem of noble patriotism expressed in eloquent and sonorous verse, and in the next year he married. After a short and happy married life, his wife died, and the ninth sonnet of Book 2 describes her end in moving words. This loss lent Ferreira’s verse an added austerity, and the independence of his muse is remarkable when he addresses King Sebastian and reminds him of his duties as well as his rights. On the 14th of October 1567 he became Disembargador da Casa do Civel, and had to leave the quiet of Coimbra for Lisbon. His verses tell how he disliked the change, and how the bustle of the capital, then a great commercial emporium, made him sad and almost tongue-tied for poetry. The intrigues and moral twists of the courtiers and traders, among whom he was forced to live, hurt his fine sense of honour, and he felt his mental isolation the more, because his friends were few and scattered in that great city which the discoveries and conquests of the Portuguese had made the centre of a world empire. In 1569 a terrible epidemic of carbunculous fever broke out and carried off 50,000 inhabitants of Lisbon, and, on the 29th of November, Ferreira, who had stayed there doing his duty when others fled, fell a victim.

The death in 1554 of Prince John, the heir to the throne, inspired him, like Camoens, Bernardes, and Caminha, to write a poetic lament composed of an elegy and two eclogues, imitating Virgil and Horace, but lacking in interest. On July 14, 1555, he earned his doctorate, an event celebrated, as was customary, with a sort of Roman triumph. He continued as a professor, finding Coimbra and its picturesque surroundings suited to his poetic inclinations and love for country life. The year 1557 saw the release of his sixth elegy, directed at the son of the great Albuquerque, a poem of noble patriotism articulated in eloquent and resonant verse, and the following year he got married. After a brief and happy marriage, his wife passed away, and the ninth sonnet of Book 2 poignantly describes her death. This loss added a level of gravity to Ferreira’s poetry, and his independence as a poet is notable when he addresses King Sebastian, reminding him of his responsibilities as well as his rights. On October 14, 1567, he became Disembargador da Casa do Civel and had to leave the tranquility of Coimbra for Lisbon. His poems express his dislike for the transition, lamenting how the hustle and bustle of the capital, then a major commercial hub, made him melancholic and nearly unable to write poetry. The scheming and moral complications of the courtiers and merchants among whom he found himself affected his strong sense of honor, and he felt even more isolated mentally, with few scattered friends in that vast city, which the Portuguese discoveries and conquests had turned into the heart of a world empire. In 1569, a terrible outbreak of carbunculous fever emerged, claiming the lives of 50,000 residents of Lisbon, and on November 29, Ferreira, who had stayed behind doing his duty while others fled, became a victim.

Horace was his favourite poet, erudition his muse, and his admiration of the classics made him disdain the popular poetry of the Old School (Escola Velha) represented by Gil Vicente. His national feeling would not allow him to write in Latin or Spanish, like most of his contemporaries, but his Portuguese is as Latinized as he could make it, and he even calls his poetical works Poemas Lusitanos. Sá de Miranda had philosophized in the familiar redondilha, introduced the epistle and founded the comedy of learning. It was the beginning of a revolution, which Ferreira completed by abandoning the hendecasyllable for the Italian decasyllable, and by composing the noble and austere 286 Roman poetry of his letters, odes and elegies. It was all done of set purpose, for he was a reformer conscious of his mission and resolved to carry it out. The gross realism of the popular poetry, its lack of culture and its carelessness of form, offended his educated taste, and its picturesqueness and ingenuity made no appeal to him. It is not surprising, however, that though he earned the applause of men of letters he failed to touch the hearts of his countrymen. Ferreira wrote the Terentian prose comedy Bristo, at the age of twenty-five (1553), and dedicated it to Prince John in the name of the university. It is neither a comedy of character nor manners, but its vis comica lies in its plot and situations. The Cioso, a later product, may almost be called a comedy of character. Castro is Ferreira’s most considerable work, and, in date, is the first tragedy in Portuguese, and the second in modern European literature. Though fashioned on the great models of the ancients, it has little plot or action, and the characters, except that of the prince, are ill-designed. It is really a splendid poem, with a chorus which sings the sad fate of Ignez in musical odes, rich in feeling and grandeur of expression. Her love is the chaste, timid affection of a wife and a vassal rather than the strong passion of a mistress, but Pedro is really the man history describes, the love-fettered prince whom the tragedy of Ignez’s death converted into the cruel tyrant. King Alfonso is little more than a shadow, and only meets Ignez once, his son never; while, stranger still, Pedro and Ignez never come on the stage together, and their love is merely narrated. Nevertheless, Ferreira merits all praise for choosing one of the most dramatic episodes in Portuguese history for his subject, and though it has since been handled by poets of renown in many different languages, none has been able to surpass the old master.

Horace was his favorite poet, knowledge his muse, and his admiration for the classics made him look down on the popular poetry of the Old School (Escola Velha) represented by Gil Vicente. His national pride wouldn’t let him write in Latin or Spanish like most of his contemporaries, but his Portuguese is as Latinized as he could make it, and he even refers to his poetic works as Poemas Lusitanos. Sá de Miranda had philosophized in the familiar redondilha, introduced the epistle, and founded the comedy of learning. It marked the start of a revolution, which Ferreira completed by abandoning the hendecasyllable for the Italian decasyllable, and by composing the noble and austere 286 Roman poetry of his letters, odes, and elegies. He did it all intentionally, as he was a reformer aware of his mission and determined to see it through. The crude realism of popular poetry, its lack of culture, and its disregard for form offended his educated taste, and its vividness and cleverness did not appeal to him. It’s not surprising, however, that although he gained the admiration of literary figures, he struggled to reach the hearts of his fellow countrymen. Ferreira wrote the Terentian prose comedy Bristo at the age of twenty-five (1553), dedicating it to Prince John on behalf of the university. It's neither a character nor a manners comedy, but its vis comica lies in its plot and situations. The Cioso, a later work, can almost be called a character comedy. Castro is Ferreira’s most significant work and is the first tragedy in Portuguese and the second in modern European literature. Though modeled after the great works of the ancients, it has little plot or action, and the characters, aside from the prince, are poorly designed. It is truly a splendid poem, with a chorus that sings the sad fate of Ignez in musical odes, rich in emotion and grandeur of expression. Her love is the pure, shy affection of a wife and a vassal rather than the intense passion of a mistress, but Pedro is truly the man history describes, the love-bound prince whom the tragedy of Ignez’s death turned into a ruthless tyrant. King Alfonso is little more than a shadow, meeting Ignez only once, while his son never appears; even more strangely, Pedro and Ignez never share the stage together, and their love is merely recounted. Nevertheless, Ferreira deserves all the praise for choosing one of the most dramatic events in Portuguese history for his subject, and although it has since been explored by renowned poets in many different languages, none have been able to surpass the old master.

The Castro was first printed in Lisbon in 1587, and it is included in Ferreira’s Poemas, published in 1598 by his son. It has been translated by Musgrave (London, 1825), and the chorus of Act I. appeared again in English in the Savoy for July 1896. It has also been done into French and German. The Bristo and Cioso first appeared with the comedies of Sá de Miranda in Lisbon in 1622. There is a good modern edition of the Complete Works of Ferreira (2 vols., Paris, 1865). See Castilho’s Antonio Ferreira (3 vols., Rio, 1865), which contains a full biographical and critical study with extracts.

The Castro was first published in Lisbon in 1587 and is included in Ferreira’s Poemas, released by his son in 1598. It was translated by Musgrave (London, 1825), and the chorus of Act I appeared again in English in the Savoy in July 1896. It has also been translated into French and German. The Bristo and Cioso first appeared with Sá de Miranda's comedies in Lisbon in 1622. There is a good modern edition of the Complete Works of Ferreira (2 vols., Paris, 1865). See Castilho’s Antonio Ferreira (3 vols., Rio, 1865), which contains a comprehensive biographical and critical study with excerpts.

(E. Pr.)

FERREL’S LAW, in physical geography. “If a body moves in any direction on the earth’s surface, there is a deflecting force arising from the earth’s rotation, which deflects it to the right in the northern hemisphere and to the left in the southern hemisphere.” This law applies to every body that is set in motion upon the surface of the rotating earth, but usually the duration of the motion of any body due to a single impulse is so brief, and there are so many frictional disturbances, that it is not easy to observe the results of this deflecting force. The movements of the atmosphere, however, are upon a scale large enough to make this observation easy, and the simplest evidence is obtained from a study of the direction of the air movements in the great wind systems of the globe. (See Meteorology.)

FERREL’S LAW, in physical geography. “If an object moves in any direction on the earth's surface, there is a deflecting force caused by the earth's rotation, which pushes it to the right in the northern hemisphere and to the left in the southern hemisphere.” This law applies to every object that starts moving on the surface of the rotating earth, but typically the time any object remains in motion due to a single push is so short, and there are so many frictional disturbances, that it’s hard to notice the effects of this deflecting force. However, the movements of the atmosphere are large enough to make this observation straightforward, and the clearest evidence comes from studying the direction of air movements in the major wind systems of the globe. (See Meteorology.)


FERRERS, the name of a great Norman-English feudal house, derived from Ferrières-St-Hilaire, to the south of Bernay, in Normandy. Its ancestor Walkelin was slain in a feud during the Conqueror’s minority, leaving a son Henry, who took part in the Conquest. At the time of the Domesday survey his fief extended into fourteen counties, but the great bulk of it was in Derbyshire and Leicestershire, especially the former. He himself occurs in Worcestershire as one of the royal commissioners for the survey. He established his chief seat at Tutbury Castle, Staffordshire, on the Derbyshire border, and founded there a Cluniac priory. As was the usual practice with the great Norman houses, his eldest son succeeded to Ferrières, and, according to Stapleton, he was ancestor of the Oakham house of Ferrers, whose memory is preserved by the horseshoes hanging in the hall of their castle. Robert, a younger son of Henry, inherited his vast English fief, and, for his services at the battle of the Standard (1138), was created earl of Derby by Stephen. He appears to have died a year after.

FERRERS, is the name of a prominent Norman-English feudal house, which comes from Ferrières-St-Hilaire, located south of Bernay in Normandy. Its ancestor Walkelin was killed in a feud during the Conqueror’s youth, leaving behind a son named Henry, who participated in the Conquest. By the time of the Domesday survey, his fief extended across fourteen counties, with the majority located in Derbyshire and Leicestershire, particularly in Derbyshire. He is recorded in Worcestershire as one of the royal commissioners overseeing the survey. He established his primary residence at Tutbury Castle in Staffordshire, near the Derbyshire border, and founded a Cluniac priory there. As was typical for prominent Norman families, his eldest son inherited Ferrières. According to Stapleton, he was the ancestor of the Oakham house of Ferrers, which is remembered by the horseshoes displayed in the hall of their castle. Robert, Henry's younger son, inherited his extensive English fief, and for his contributions at the battle of the Standard (1138), he was made Earl of Derby by Stephen. He seems to have died a year later.

Both the title and the arms of the earls have been the subject of much discussion, and they seem to have been styled indifferently earls of Derby or Nottingham (both counties then forming one shrievalty) or of Tutbury, or simply (de) Ferrers. Robert, the 2nd earl, who founded Merevale Abbey, was father of William, the 3rd earl, who began the opposition of his house to the crown by joining in the great revolt of 1173, when he fortified his castles of Tutbury and Duffield and plundered Nottingham, which was held for the king. On his subsequent submission his castles were razed. Dying at the siege of Acre, 1190, he was succeeded by his son William, who attacked Nottingham on Richard’s behalf in 1194, but whom King John favoured and confirmed in the earldom of Derby, 1199. A claim that he was heir to the honour of Peveral of Nottingham, which has puzzled genealogists, was compromised with the king, whom the earl thenceforth stoutly supported, being with him at his death and witnessing his will, with his brother-in-law the earl of Chester, and with William Marshal, earl of Pembroke, whose daughter married his son. With them also he acted in securing the succession of the young Henry, joining in the siege of Mountsorrel and the battle of Lincoln. But he was one of those great nobles who looked with jealousy on the rising power of the king’s favourites. In 1227 he was one of the earls who rose against him on behalf of his brother Richard and made him restore the forest charters, and in 1237 he was one of the three counsellors forced on the king by the barons. His influence had by this time been further increased by the death, in 1232, of the earl of Chester, whose sister, his wife, inherited a vast estate between the Ribble and the Mersey. On his death in 1247, his son William succeeded as 5th earl, and inherited through his wife her share of the great possessions of the Marshals, earls of Pembroke. By his second wife, a daughter of the earl of Winchester, he was father of Robert, 6th and last earl. Succeeding as a minor in 1254, Robert had been secured by the king, as early as 1249, as a husband for his wife’s niece, Marie, daughter of Hugh, count of Angoulême, but, in spite of this, he joined the opposition in 1263 and distinguished himself by his violence. He was one of the five earls summoned to Simon de Montfort’s parliament, though, on taking the earl of Gloucester’s part, he was arrested by Simon. In spite of this he was compelled on the king’s triumph to forfeit his castles and seven years’ revenues. In 1266 he broke out again in revolt on his own estates in Derbyshire, but was utterly defeated at Chesterfield by Henry “of Almain,” deprived of his earldom and lands and imprisoned. Eventually, in 1269, he agreed to pay £50,000 for restoration, and to pledge all his lands save Chartley and Holbrook for its payment. As he was not able to find the money, the lands passed to the king’s son, Edmund, to whom they had been granted on his forfeiture.

Both the title and the arms of the earls have been discussed a lot, and they appear to have been referred to interchangeably as earls of Derby or Nottingham (since both counties were part of one sheriffs' jurisdiction), or of Tutbury, or simply (de) Ferrers. Robert, the 2nd earl, who founded Merevale Abbey, was the father of William, the 3rd earl, who began his family's opposition to the crown by participating in the major revolt of 1173, during which he fortified his castles in Tutbury and Duffield and looted Nottingham, which was under royal control. After he surrendered, his castles were destroyed. He died during the siege of Acre in 1190 and was succeeded by his son William, who attacked Nottingham on behalf of Richard in 1194, but King John supported him and confirmed his earldom of Derby in 1199. A claim that he was the heir to the honor of Peveral of Nottingham, which has confused genealogists, was settled with the king, whom the earl then supported vigorously, being present at his death and witnessing his will alongside his brother-in-law, the earl of Chester, and William Marshal, earl of Pembroke, whose daughter married his son. He also worked with them to secure the succession of young Henry, participating in the siege of Mountsorrel and the battle of Lincoln. However, he was among the noblemen who were envious of the growing power of the king’s favorites. In 1227, he was one of the earls who rose up against the king on behalf of his brother Richard and made him restore the forest charters, and in 1237 he was one of the three advisors forced on the king by the barons. By this time, his influence had grown further due to the death, in 1232, of the earl of Chester, whose sister, his wife, inherited a vast estate between the Ribble and the Mersey. Upon his death in 1247, his son William succeeded as the 5th earl and inherited through his wife her share of the vast possessions of the Marshals, earls of Pembroke. By his second wife, a daughter of the earl of Winchester, he became the father of Robert, the 6th and last earl. Becoming the earl as a minor in 1254, Robert had been arranged by the king, as early as 1249, to marry his wife's niece, Marie, daughter of Hugh, count of Angoulême, but despite this, he joined the opposition in 1263 and stood out for his aggression. He was one of the five earls summoned to Simon de Montfort’s parliament, but after taking the earl of Gloucester’s side, he was captured by Simon. Nevertheless, he was compelled, following the king’s victory, to forfeit his castles and seven years of revenues. In 1266, he rebelled again in his own lands in Derbyshire, but was completely defeated at Chesterfield by Henry “of Almain,” stripped of his earldom and lands, and imprisoned. Eventually, in 1269, he agreed to pay £50,000 for restoration and to pledge all his lands except Chartley and Holbrook for this payment. Since he couldn’t raise the money, the lands were transferred to the king’s son, Edmund, to whom they had been granted following his forfeiture.

The earl’s son John succeeded to Chartley, a Staffordshire estate long famous for the wild cattle in its chase, and was summoned as a baron in 1299, though he had joined the baronial opposition in 1297. On the death, in 1450, of the last Ferrers lord of Chartley, the barony passed with his daughter to the Devereux family and then to the Shirleys, one of whom was created Earl Ferrers in 1711. The barony has been in abeyance since 1855.

The earl's son John inherited Chartley, a Staffordshire estate well-known for its wild cattle, and was summoned as a baron in 1299, despite having joined the baronial opposition in 1297. When the last Ferrers lord of Chartley died in 1450, the barony passed to the Devereux family through his daughter, and then to the Shirleys, one of whom was made Earl Ferrers in 1711. The barony has been on hold since 1855.

The line of Ferrers of Groby was founded by William, younger brother of the last earl, who inherited from his mother Margaret de Quinci her estate of Groby in Leicestershire, and some Ferrers manors from his father. His son was summoned as a baron in 1300, but on the death of his descendant, William, Lord Ferrers of Groby, in 1445, the barony passed with his granddaughter to the Grey family and was forfeited with the dukedom of Suffolk in 1554. A younger son of William, the last lord, married the heiress of Tamworth Castle, and his line was seated at Tamworth till 1680, when an heiress carried it to a son of the first Earl Ferrers. From Sir Henry, a younger son of the first Ferrers of Tamworth, descended Ferrers of Baddesley Clinton, seated there in the male line till towards the end of the 19th century. The line of Ferrers of Wemme was founded by a younger son of Lord Ferrers of Chartley, who married the heiress of Wemme, Co. Salop, and was summoned as a baron in her right; but it 287 ended with their son. There are doubtless male descendants of this great Norman house still in existence.

The Ferrers of Groby lineage was started by William, the younger brother of the last earl, who inherited his mother Margaret de Quinci’s estate at Groby in Leicestershire, along with some Ferrers manors from his father. His son was called to the baronage in 1300, but when his descendant, William, Lord Ferrers of Groby, died in 1445, the barony passed to his granddaughter and the Grey family, and was lost with the dukedom of Suffolk in 1554. A younger son of William, the last lord, married the heiress of Tamworth Castle, and his descendants lived in Tamworth until 1680, when an heiress took it to a son of the first Earl Ferrers. From Sir Henry, a younger son of the first Ferrers of Tamworth, came the Ferrers of Baddesley Clinton, who remained there in the male line until the late 19th century. The Ferrers of Wemme lineage was established by a younger son of Lord Ferrers of Chartley, who married the heiress of Wemme, Co. Salop, and was summoned as a baron in her right; however, it ended with their son. There are surely still male descendants of this prominent Norman house alive today.

Higham Ferrers, Northants, and Woodham Ferrers, Essex, take their names from this family. It has been alleged that they bore horseshoes for their arms in allusion to Ferrières (i.e. ironworks); but when and why they were added to their coat is a moot point.

Higham Ferrers in Northamptonshire and Woodham Ferrers in Essex got their names from this family. It's claimed that they featured horseshoes in their coat of arms, referencing Ferrières (meaning ironworks); however, the timing and reason for this addition remain uncertain.

See Dugdale’s Baronage; J.R. Planché’s The Conqueror and his Companions; G.E. C(okayne)’s Complete Peerage; Chronicles and Memorials (Rolls Series); T. Stapleton’s Rotuli Scaccarii Normannie.

See Dugdale’s Baronage; J.R. Planché’s The Conqueror and His Companions; G.E. C(okayne)’s Complete Peerage; Chronicles and Memorials (Rolls Series); T. Stapleton’s Rotuli Scaccarii Normannie.

(J. H. R.)

FERRERS, LAURENCE SHIRLEY, 4th Earl (1720-1760), the last nobleman in England to suffer a felon’s death, was born on the 18th of August 1720. There was insanity in his family, and from an early age his behaviour seems to have been eccentric, and his temper violent, though he was quite capable of managing his business affairs. In 1758 his wife obtained a separation from him for cruelty. The Ferrers estates were then vested in trustees, the Earl Ferrers secured the appointment of an old family steward, Johnson, as receiver of rents. This man faithfully performed his duty as a servant to the trustees, and did not prove amenable to Ferrer’s personal wishes. On the 18th of January 1760, Johnson called at the earl’s mansion at Staunton Harold, Leicestershire, by appointment, and was directed to his lordship’s study. Here, after some business conversation, Lord Ferrers shot him. In the following April Ferrers was tried for murder by his peers in Westminster Hall. His defence, which he conducted in person with great ability, was a plea of insanity, and it was supported by considerable evidence, but he was found guilty. He subsequently said that he had only pleaded insanity to oblige his family, and that he had himself always been ashamed of such a defence. On the 5th of May 1760, dressed in a light-coloured suit, embroidered with silver, he was taken in his own carriage from the Tower of London to Tyburn and there hanged. It has been said that as a concession to his order the rope used was of silk.

FERRERS, LAURENCE SHIRLEY, 4th Earl (1720-1760), the last nobleman in England to face execution, was born on August 18, 1720. There was a history of mental illness in his family, and from a young age, his behavior seemed unusual, and his temper was violent, although he was capable of managing his finances. In 1758, his wife separated from him due to cruelty. The Ferrers estates were placed in the hands of trustees, and the Earl secured the appointment of an old family steward, Johnson, as the rent receiver. Johnson faithfully served the trustees and did not cater to Ferrers’ personal requests. On January 18, 1760, Johnson visited the earl’s mansion at Staunton Harold, Leicestershire, as scheduled and was taken to his lordship’s study. After some business talk, Lord Ferrers shot him. In April, Ferrers was tried for murder by his peers in Westminster Hall. He represented himself with great skill, arguing insanity, supported by substantial evidence, but was found guilty. He later claimed he only pleaded insanity to please his family and had always been embarrassed by that defense. On May 5, 1760, dressed in a light-colored suit embroidered with silver, he was taken from the Tower of London to Tyburn in his own carriage and hanged. It has been said that out of respect for his rank, the rope used was made of silk.

See Peter Burke, Celebrated Trials connected with the Aristocracy in the Relations of Private Life (London, 1849); Edward Walford, Tales of our Great Families (London, 1877); Howell’s State Trials (1816), xix. 885-980.

See Peter Burke, Celebrated Trials Connected with the Aristocracy in the Relations of Private Life (London, 1849); Edward Walford, Tales of Our Great Families (London, 1877); Howell’s State Trials (1816), xix. 885-980.


FERRET, a domesticated, and frequently albino breed of quadruped, derived from the wild polecat (Putorius foetidus, or P. putorius), which it closely resembles in size, form, and habits, and with which it interbreeds. It differs in the colour of its fur, which is usually yellowish-white, and of its eyes, which are pinky-red. The “polecat-ferret” is a brown breed, apparently the product of the above-mentioned cross. The ferret attains a length of about 14 in., exclusive of the tail, which measures 5 in. Although exhibiting considerable tameness, it seems incapable of attachment, and when not properly fed, or when irritated, is apt to give painful evidence of its ferocity. It is chiefly employed in destroying rats and other vermin, and in driving rabbits from their burrows. The ferret is remarkably prolific, the female bringing forth two broods annually, each numbering from six to nine young. It is said to occasionally devour its young immediately after birth, and in this case produces another brood soon after. The ferret was well known to the Romans, Strabo stating that it was brought from Africa into Spain, and Pliny that it was employed in his time in rabbit-hunting, under the name Viverra; the English name is not derived from this, but from Fr. furet, Late Lat. furo, robber. The date of its introduction into Great Britain is uncertain, but it has been known in England for at least 600 years.

FERRET, is a domesticated, often albino breed of four-legged animal, derived from the wild polecat (Putorius foetidus or P. putorius), which it closely resembles in size, shape, and behavior, and with which it interbreeds. It differs in the color of its fur, which is typically yellowish-white, and its eyes, which are pinkish-red. The “polecat-ferret” is a brown variety, apparently resulting from this crossbreed. The ferret reaches a length of about 14 inches, not including its tail, which measures 5 inches. Although generally quite tame, it does not form attachments easily, and if not properly fed or if provoked, it can show signs of aggression. It is mainly used to catch rats and other pests and to drive rabbits out of their burrows. The ferret is notably prolific, with females giving birth to two litters each year, each consisting of six to nine offspring. It’s said to sometimes eat its young right after birth, and in that case, it will have another litter shortly after. The ferret was well-known to the Romans; Strabo mentioned that it was brought from Africa to Spain, and Pliny noted that it was used for rabbit hunting, referring to it as Viverra; the English name comes from the French furet and Late Latin furo, meaning robber. The exact date of its introduction to Great Britain is unclear, but it has been present in England for at least 600 years.

The ferret should be kept in dry, clean, well-ventilated hutches, and fed twice daily on bread, milk, and meat, such as rabbits’ and fowls’ livers. When used to hunt rabbits it is provided with a muzzle, or, better and more usual, a cope, made by looping and knotting twine about the head and snout, in order to prevent it killing its quarry, in which case it would gorge itself and go to sleep in the hole. As the ferret enters the hole the rabbits flee before it, and are shot or caught by dogs as they break ground. A ferret’s hold on its quarry is as obstinate as that of a bulldog, but can easily be broken by a strong pressure of the thumb just above the eyes. Only full-grown ferrets are “worked to” rats. Several are generally used at a time and without copes, as rats are fierce fighters.

The ferret should be kept in dry, clean, well-ventilated cages and fed twice a day with bread, milk, and meat, like rabbit and chicken livers. When used for hunting rabbits, it should wear a muzzle or, better yet, a cope, which is made by looping and knotting twine around its head and snout to prevent it from killing its prey; otherwise, it would eat too much and fall asleep in the burrow. As the ferret goes into the hole, the rabbits will scatter, and they can be shot or caught by dogs as they come out. A ferret's grip on its prey is as stubborn as a bulldog's, but it can easily be released by applying strong pressure with the thumb just above the eyes. Only adult ferrets are used for hunting rats. Usually, several ferrets are used at the same time without copes since rats are fierce fighters.

See Ferrets, by Nicholas Everitt (London, 1897).

See Ferrets, by Nicholas Everitt (London, 1897).


FERRI, CIRO (1634-1689), Roman painter, the chief disciple and successor of Pietro da Cortona. He was born in the Roman territory, studied under Pietro, to whom he became warmly attached, and, at an age a little past thirty, completed the painting of the ceilings and other internal decorations begun by his instructor in the Pitti palace, Florence. He also co-operated in or finished several other works by Pietro, both in Florence and in Rome, approaching near to his style and his particular merits, but with less grace of design and native vigour, and in especial falling short of him in colour. Of his own independent productions, the chief is an extensive series of scriptural frescoes in the church of S. Maria Maggiore in Bergamo; also a painting (rated as Ferri’s best work) of St Ambrose healing a sick person, the principal altarpiece in the church of S. Ambrogio della Massima in Rome. The paintings of the cupola of S. Agnese in the same capital might rank even higher than these; but this labour remained uncompleted at the death of Ferri, and was marred by the performances of his successor Corbellini. He executed also a large amount of miscellaneous designs, such as etchings and frontispieces for books; and he was an architect besides. Ferri was appointed to direct the Florentine students in Rome, and Gabbiani was one of his leading pupils. As regards style, Ferri ranks as chief of the so-called Machinists, as opposed to the school founded by Sacchi, and continued by Carlo Maratta. He died in Rome—his end being hastened, as it is said, by mortification at his recognized inferiority to Bacciccia in colour.

FERRI, CIRO (1634-1689), was a Roman painter and the main student and successor of Pietro da Cortona. He was born in Rome, studied under Pietro, to whom he became very close, and at just over thirty, finished the ceiling paintings and other interior decorations that his teacher had started in the Pitti Palace, Florence. He also collaborated on or completed several other works by Pietro in both Florence and Rome, getting close to his style and particular strengths, though with less elegance in design and natural energy, especially lacking in color. His most important independent works include a large series of biblical frescoes in the church of S. Maria Maggiore in Bergamo, as well as a painting (considered Ferri's best) of St. Ambrose healing a sick person, which serves as the main altarpiece in the church of S. Ambrogio della Massima in Rome. The paintings in the dome of S. Agnese in the same city could be rated even higher than these; however, this project was left unfinished at Ferri's death and was damaged by the work of his successor Corbellini. He also produced a variety of designs, including etchings and frontispieces for books, and was an architect as well. Ferri was appointed to supervise Florentine students in Rome, with Gabbiani being one of his top pupils. In terms of style, Ferri is considered the leader of the so-called Machinists, in contrast to the school established by Sacchi and carried on by Carlo Maratta. He passed away in Rome—his death reportedly hastened by frustration over his recognized inferiority to Bacciccia in color.


FERRI, LUIGI (1826-1895), Italian philosopher, was born at Bologna on the 15th of June 1826. His education was obtained mainly at the École Normale in Paris, where his father, a painter and architect, was engaged in the construction of the Théâtre Italien. From his twenty-fifth year he began to lecture in the colleges of Evreux, Dieppe, Blois and Toulouse. Later, he was lecturer at Annecy and Casal-Montferrat, and became head of the education department under Mamiani in 1860. Three years later he was appointed to the chair of philosophy at the Istituto di Perfezionamento at Florence, and, in 1871, was made professor of philosophy in the university of Rome. On the death of Mamiani in 1885 he became editor of the Filosofia delle scuole italiane, the title of which he changed to Rivista italiana di filosofia. He wrote both on psychology and on metaphysics, but is known especially as a historian of philosophy. His original work is eclectic, combining the psychology of his teachers, Jules Simon, Saisset and Mamiani, with the idealism of Rosmini and Gioberti. Among his works may be mentioned Studii sulla coscienza; Il Fenomeno nelle sue relazioni con la sensazione; Della idea del vero; Della filosofia del diritto presso Aristotile (1885); Il Genio di Aristotile; La Psicologia di Pietro Pomponazzi (1877), and, most important, Essai sur l’histoire de la philosophie en Italie au XIXe siècle (Paris, 1869), and La Psychologie de l’association depuis Hobbes jusqu’à nos jours.

FERRI, LUIGI (1826-1895), an Italian philosopher, was born in Bologna on June 15, 1826. He mostly received his education at the École Normale in Paris, where his father, a painter and architect, worked on the construction of the Théâtre Italien. Starting from the age of twenty-five, he began to lecture at the colleges of Evreux, Dieppe, Blois, and Toulouse. Later, he taught at Annecy and Casal-Montferrat, and became head of the education department under Mamiani in 1860. Three years later, he was appointed to the chair of philosophy at the Istituto di Perfezionamento in Florence, and in 1871, he became a philosophy professor at the University of Rome. After Mamiani's death in 1885, he took over as editor of the Filosofia delle scuole italiane, renaming it Rivista italiana di filosofia. He wrote on both psychology and metaphysics but is especially known as a historian of philosophy. His original work is eclectic, blending the psychology of his teachers, Jules Simon, Saisset, and Mamiani, with the idealism of Rosmini and Gioberti. Notable works include Studii sulla coscienza; Il Fenomeno nelle sue relazioni con la sensazione; Della idea del vero; Della filosofia del diritto presso Aristotile (1885); Il Genio di Aristotile; La Psicologia di Pietro Pomponazzi (1877), and, most importantly, Essai sur l’histoire de la philosophie en Italie au XIXe siècle (Paris, 1869), and La Psychologie de l’association depuis Hobbes jusqu’à nos jours.


FERRIER, ARNAUD DU (c. 1508-1585), French jurisconsult and diplomatist, was born at Toulouse about 1508, and practised as a lawyer first at Bourges, afterwards at Toulouse. Councillor to the parlement of the latter town, and then to that of Rennes, he later became president of the parlement of Paris. He represented Charles IX., king of France, at the council of Trent in 1562, but had to retire in consequence of the attitude he had adopted, and was sent as ambassador to Venice, where he remained till 1567, returning again in 1570. On his return to France he came into touch with the Calvinists whose tenets he probably embraced, and consequently lost his place in the privy council and part of his fortune. As compensation, Henry, king of Navarre, appointed him his chancellor. He died in the end of October 1585.

FERRIER, ARNAUD DU (c. 1508-1585), French lawyer and diplomat, was born in Toulouse around 1508 and initially worked as a lawyer in Bourges, then in Toulouse. He served as a councillor to the parlement of Toulouse and later to Rennes, eventually becoming president of the parlement of Paris. He represented Charles IX., king of France, at the Council of Trent in 1562 but had to withdraw due to his stance. He was then appointed as ambassador to Venice, where he stayed until 1567 and returned again in 1570. After coming back to France, he connected with the Calvinists, whose beliefs he likely adopted, which led to his removal from the privy council and a loss of part of his wealth. As compensation, Henry, king of Navarre, named him his chancellor. He passed away at the end of October 1585.

See also E. Frémy, Un Ambassadeur libéral sous Charles IX et Henri III, Arnaud du Ferrier (Paris, 1880).

See also E. Frémy, Un Ambassadeur libéral sous Charles IX et Henri III, Arnaud du Ferrier (Paris, 1880).


FERRIER, JAMES FREDERICK (1808-1864), Scottish metaphysical writer, was born in Edinburgh on the 16th of 288 June 1808, the son of John Ferrier, writer to the signet. His mother was a sister of John Wilson (Christopher North). He was educated at the university of Edinburgh and Magdalen College, Oxford, and subsequently, his metaphysical tastes having been fostered by his intimate friend, Sir William Hamilton, spent some time at Heidelberg studying German philosophy. In 1842 he was appointed professor of civil history in Edinburgh University, and in 1845 professor of moral philosophy and political economy at St Andrews. He was twice an unsuccessful candidate for chairs in Edinburgh, for that of moral philosophy on Wilson’s resignation in 1852, and for that of logic and metaphysics in 1856, after Hamilton’s death. He remained at St Andrews till his death on the 11th of June 1864. He married his cousin, Margaret Anne, daughter of John Wilson. He had five children, one of whom became the wife of Sir Alexander Grant.

FERRIER, JAMES FREDERICK (1808-1864), Scottish metaphysical writer, was born in Edinburgh on June 16, 288 1808, the son of John Ferrier, a writer to the signet. His mother was the sister of John Wilson (Christopher North). He studied at the University of Edinburgh and Magdalen College, Oxford. His interest in metaphysics was encouraged by his close friend, Sir William Hamilton, and he later spent time in Heidelberg studying German philosophy. In 1842, he was appointed professor of civil history at Edinburgh University, and in 1845, he became professor of moral philosophy and political economy at St Andrews. He ran for chairs in Edinburgh twice but was unsuccessful; first for moral philosophy after Wilson’s resignation in 1852, and then for logic and metaphysics in 1856 after Hamilton’s death. He stayed at St Andrews until his death on June 11, 1864. He married his cousin, Margaret Anne, who was the daughter of John Wilson. They had five children, one of whom married Sir Alexander Grant.

Ferrier’s first contribution to metaphysics was a series of articles in Blackwood’s Magazine (1838-1839), entitled An Introduction to the Philosophy of Consciousness. In these he condemns previous philosophers for ignoring in their psychological investigations the fact of consciousness, which is the distinctive feature of man, and confining their observation to the so-called “states of the mind.” Consciousness comes into manifestation only when the man has used the word “I” with full knowledge of what it means. This notion he must originate within himself. Consciousness cannot spring from the states which are its object, for it is in antagonism to them. It originates in the will, which in the act of consciousness puts the “I” in the place of our sensations. Morality, conscience, and responsibility are necessary results of consciousness. These articles were succeeded by a number of others, of which the most important were The Crisis of Modern Speculation (1841), Berkeley and Idealism (1842), and an important examination of Hamilton’s edition of Reid (1847), which contains a vigorous attack on the philosophy of common sense. The perception of matter is pronounced to be the ne plus ultra of thought, and Reid, for presuming to analyse it, is declared to be a representationist in fact, although he professed to be an intuitionist. A distinction is made between the “perception of matter” and “our apprehension of the perception of matter.” Psychology vainly tries to analyse the former. Metaphysic shows the latter alone to be analysable, and separates the subjective element, “our apprehension,” from the objective element, “the perception of matter,”—not matter per se, but the perception of matter is the existence independent of the individual’s thought. It cannot, however, be independent of thought. It must belong to some mind, and is therefore the property of the Divine Mind. There, he thinks, is an indestructible foundation for the a priori argument for the existence of God.

Ferrier’s first contribution to metaphysics was a series of articles in Blackwood’s Magazine (1838-1839), titled An Introduction to the Philosophy of Consciousness. In these articles, he criticizes previous philosophers for neglecting the essential aspect of consciousness in their psychological studies, which he sees as the defining characteristic of humans, and for focusing solely on the so-called “states of the mind.” Consciousness only becomes evident when a person uses the word “I” with a clear understanding of its meaning. This idea must originate from within the individual. Consciousness cannot emerge from the states that are its objects, as it stands in opposition to them. It arises from the will, which, in the act of consciousness, places the “I” at the center of our sensations. Morality, conscience, and responsibility are necessary outcomes of consciousness. These articles were followed by several others, the most significant being The Crisis of Modern Speculation (1841), Berkeley and Idealism (1842), and a crucial critique of Hamilton’s edition of Reid (1847), which includes a strong attack on the philosophy of common sense. The perception of matter is deemed the ne plus ultra of thought, and Reid, for daring to analyze it, is labeled a representationist despite claiming to be an intuitionist. A distinction is made between the “perception of matter” and “our apprehension of the perception of matter.” Psychology futilely tries to dissect the former. Metaphysics reveals that only the latter is analyzable, separating the subjective element, “our apprehension,” from the objective element, “the perception of matter”—not matter per se, but the perception of matter exists independently of any individual’s thought. However, it cannot truly be independent of thought. It must belong to some mind and is thus the property of the Divine Mind. There, he believes, lies an unshakeable foundation for the a priori argument for the existence of God.

Ferrier’s matured philosophical doctrines find expression in the Institutes of Metaphysics (1854), in which he claims to have met the twofold obligation resting on every system of philosophy, that it should be reasoned and true. His method is that of Spinoza, strict demonstration, or at least an attempt at it. All the errors of natural thinking and psychology must fall under one or other of three topics:—Knowing and the Known, Ignorance, and Being. These are all-comprehensive, and are therefore the departments into which philosophy is divided, for the sole end of philosophy is to correct the inadvertencies of ordinary thinking.

Ferrier's developed philosophical ideas are expressed in the Institutes of Metaphysics (1854), where he asserts that every philosophy must meet a twofold obligation: it should be logical and accurate. His approach is based on Spinoza's method of strict demonstration, or at least an attempt to achieve it. All the mistakes in natural thinking and psychology can be categorized into three main topics: Knowing and the Known, Ignorance, and Being. These encompass everything, which is why philosophy is divided into these areas, since the primary purpose of philosophy is to correct the oversights of everyday thinking.

The problems of knowing and the known are treated in the “Epistemology or Theory of Knowing.” The truth that “along with whatever any intelligence knows it must, as the ground or condition of its knowledge, have some cognizance of itself,” is the basis of the whole philosophical system. Object + subject, thing + me, is the only possible knowable. This leads to the conclusion that the only independent universe which any mind can think of is the universe in synthesis with some other mind or ego.

The issues of knowledge and what is known are addressed in the “Epistemology or Theory of Knowing.” The idea that “along with whatever an intelligence knows, it must, as the foundation or condition of its knowledge, have some awareness of itself” serves as the foundation of the entire philosophical system. Object + subject, thing + me, is the only thing that can be truly known. This leads to the conclusion that the only independent universe any mind can conceive of is the universe that combines with some other mind or ego.

The leading contradiction which is corrected in the “Agnoiology or Theory of Ignorance” is this: that there can be an ignorance of that of which there can be no knowledge. Ignorance is a defect. But there is no defect in not knowing what cannot be known by any intelligence (e.g. that two and two make five), and therefore there can be an ignorance only of that of which there can be a knowledge, i.e. of some-object-plus-some-subject. The knowable alone is the ignorable. Ferrier lays special claim to originality for this division of the Institutes.

The main contradiction addressed in the “Agnoiology or Theory of Ignorance” is this: that there can be ignorance of something that cannot be known. Ignorance is a shortcoming. However, there’s no shortcoming in not knowing what can't be understood by any intelligence (e.g., that two and two make five), so ignorance can only exist about things that can be known, i.e., of some-object-plus-some-subject. Only what can be known can be ignored. Ferrier claims this division of the Institutes as original.

The “Ontology or Theory of Being” forms the third and final division. It contains a discussion of the origin of knowledge, in which Ferrier traces all the perplexities and errors of philosophers to the assumption of the absolute existence of matter. The conclusion arrived at is that the only true real and independent existences are minds-together-with-that-which-they-apprehend, and that the one strictly necessary absolute existence is a supreme and infinite and everlasting mind in synthesis with all things.

The “Ontology or Theory of Being” makes up the third and final section. It includes a discussion on the origin of knowledge, where Ferrier connects all the confusion and mistakes of philosophers to the belief in the absolute existence of matter. The conclusion is that the only true real and independent existences are minds along with what they perceive, and that the only strictly necessary absolute existence is a supreme, infinite, and everlasting mind in unity with all things.

Ferrier’s works are remarkable for an unusual charm and simplicity of style. These qualities are especially noticeable in the Lectures on Greek Philosophy, one of the best introductions on the subject in the English language. A complete edition of his philosophical writings was published in 1875, with a memoir by E.L. Lushington; see also monograph by E.S. Haldane in the Famous Scots Series.

Ferrier’s works are notable for their unique charm and straightforward style. These traits are particularly evident in the Lectures on Greek Philosophy, which is one of the best introductions to the subject available in English. A complete edition of his philosophical writings was published in 1875, featuring a memoir by E.L. Lushington; also check out the monograph by E.S. Haldane in the Famous Scots Series.


FERRIER, PAUL (1843-  ), French dramatist, was born at Montpellier on the 29th of March 1843. He had already produced several comedies when in 1873 he secured real success with two short pieces, Chez l’avocat and Les Incendies de Massoulard. Others of his numerous plays are Les Compensations (1876); L’Art de tromper les femmes (1890), with M. Najac. One of Ferrier’s greatest triumphs was the production with Fabrice Carré of Joséphine vendue par ses sœurs (1886), an opéra bouffe with music by Victor Roger. His opera libretti include La Marocaine (1879), music of J. Offenbach; Le Chevalier d’Harmental (1896) after the play of Dumas père, for the music of A. Messager; La Fille de Tabarin (1901), with Victorien Sardou, music of Gabriel Pierné.

FERRIER, PAUL (1843-  ), French playwright, was born in Montpellier on March 29, 1843. He had already created several comedies when he achieved significant success in 1873 with two short works, Chez l’avocat and Les Incendies de Massoulard. Other notable plays include Les Compensations (1876) and L’Art de tromper les femmes (1890), co-written with M. Najac. One of Ferrier’s biggest successes was the collaboration with Fabrice Carré on Joséphine vendue par ses sœurs (1886), an opéra bouffe featuring music by Victor Roger. His opera librettos include La Marocaine (1879), music by J. Offenbach; Le Chevalier d’Harmental (1896), adapted from Dumas père’s play, with music by A. Messager; and La Fille de Tabarin (1901), written with Victorien Sardou and featuring music by Gabriel Pierné.


FERRIER, SUSAN EDMONSTONE (1782-1854), Scottish novelist, born in Edinburgh on the 7th of September 1782, was the daughter of James Ferrier, for some years factor to the duke of Argyll, and at one time one of the clerks of the court of session with Sir Walter Scott. Her mother was a Miss Coutts, the beautiful daughter of a Forfarshire farmer. James Frederick Ferrier, noticed above, was Susan Ferrier’s nephew.

FERRIER, SUSAN EDMONSTONE (1782-1854), Scottish novelist, was born in Edinburgh on September 7, 1782. She was the daughter of James Ferrier, who served for several years as the factor to the Duke of Argyll and was once one of the clerks of the Court of Session alongside Sir Walter Scott. Her mother was Miss Coutts, the beautiful daughter of a farmer from Forfarshire. James Frederick Ferrier, mentioned above, was Susan Ferrier’s nephew.

Miss Ferrier’s first novel, Marriage, was begun in concert with a friend, Miss Clavering, a niece of the duke of Argyll; but this lady only wrote a few pages, and Marriage, completed by Miss Ferrier as early as 1810, appeared in 1818. It was followed in 1824 by The Inheritance, a better constructed and more mature work; and the last and perhaps best of her novels, Destiny, dedicated to Sir Walter Scott (who himself undertook to strike the bargain with the publisher Cadell), appeared in 1831. All these novels were published anonymously; but, with their clever portraiture of contemporary Scottish life and manners, and even recognizable caricatures of some social celebrities of the day, they could not fail to become popular north of the Tweed. “Lady MacLaughlan” represents Mrs Seymour Damer in dress and Lady Frederick Campbell, whose husband, Lord Ferrier, was executed in 1760, in manners. Mary, Lady Clark, well known in Edinburgh, figured as “Mrs Fox” and the three maiden aunts were the Misses Edmonstone. Many were the conjectures as to the authorship of the novels. In the Noctes Ambrosianae (November 1826), James Hogg is made to mention The Inheritance, and adds, “which I aye thought was written by Sir Walter, as weel’s Marriage, till it spunked out that it was written by a leddy.” Scott himself gave Miss Ferrier a very high place indeed among the novelists of the day. In his diary (March 27, 1826), criticizing a new work which he had been reading, he says, “The women do this better. Edgeworth, Ferrier, Austen, have all given portraits of real society far superior to anything man, vain man, has produced of the like nature.” Another friendly recognition of Miss Ferrier is to be found at the conclusion of his Tales of my Landlord, where Scott calls her his “sister shadow,” the still anonymous author of “the very lively work entitled Marriage.” Lively, indeed, all Miss Ferrier’s works are,—written in clear, brisk English, and 289 with an inexhaustible fund of humour. It is true her books portray the eccentricities, the follies, and foibles of the society in which she lived, caricaturing with terrible exactness its hypocrisy, boastfulness, greed, affectation, and undue subservience to public opinion. Yet Miss Ferrier wrote less to reform than to amuse. In this she is less like Miss Edgeworth than Miss Austen. Miss Edgeworth was more of a moralist; her wit is not so involuntary, her caricatures not always so good-natured. But Miss Austen and Miss Ferrier were genuine humorists, and with Miss Ferrier especially a keen sense of the ludicrous was always dominant. Her humorous characters are always her best. It was no doubt because she felt this that in the last year of her life she regretted not having devoted her talents more exclusively to the service of religion. But if she was not a moralist, neither was she a cynic; and her wit, even where it is most caustic, is never uncharitable.

Miss Ferrier’s first novel, Marriage, was started alongside a friend, Miss Clavering, a niece of the duke of Argyll; however, this lady only wrote a few pages, and Marriage, finished by Miss Ferrier as early as 1810, was published in 1818. It was followed in 1824 by The Inheritance, a better-structured and more mature work; and the last and perhaps best of her novels, Destiny, dedicated to Sir Walter Scott (who himself arranged the deal with the publisher Cadell), came out in 1831. All these novels were published anonymously; but with their clever depiction of contemporary Scottish life and manners, including recognizable caricatures of some notable social figures of the time, they became popular north of the Tweed. “Lady MacLaughlan” represents Mrs. Seymour Damer in dress and Lady Frederick Campbell, whose husband, Lord Ferrier, was executed in 1760, in manners. Mary, Lady Clark, well known in Edinburgh, is portrayed as “Mrs. Fox,” and the three unmarried aunts are the Misses Edmonstone. There were many speculations about the authorship of the novels. In the Noctes Ambrosianae (November 1826), James Hogg mentions The Inheritance, adding, “which I always thought was written by Sir Walter, just like Marriage, until it turned out that it was written by a lady.” Scott himself gave Miss Ferrier a very high regard among the novelists of the time. In his diary (March 27, 1826), while critiquing a new work he had been reading, he mentions, “The women do this better. Edgeworth, Ferrier, Austen, have all presented portraits of real society far superior to anything man, vain man, has produced of the same nature.” Another friendly acknowledgment of Miss Ferrier can be found at the end of his Tales of my Landlord, where Scott calls her his “sister shadow,” the still anonymous author of “the very lively work titled Marriage.” Lively, indeed, all of Miss Ferrier’s works are—written in clear, lively English, and with a never-ending supply of humor. It’s true her books depict the eccentricities, follies, and quirks of the society she lived in, caricaturing with sharp accuracy its hypocrisy, boastfulness, greed, pretense, and excessive subservience to public opinion. Yet Miss Ferrier wrote more to entertain than to reform. In this, she is less like Miss Edgeworth and more like Miss Austen. Miss Edgeworth was more of a moralist; her wit isn’t as spontaneous, and her caricatures aren’t always as kind-hearted. But Miss Austen and Miss Ferrier were genuine humorists, with Miss Ferrier especially having a keen sense of the ridiculous at all times. Her humorous characters are consistently her strongest. It’s likely because she realized this that in the last year of her life, she lamented not dedicating her talents more fully to the service of religion. But while she wasn’t a moralist, she also wasn’t a cynic; and her wit, even when most biting, is never unkind.

Miss Ferrier’s mother died in 1797, and from that date she kept house for her father until his death in 1829. She lived quietly at Morningside House and in Edinburgh for more than twenty years after the publication of her last work. The pleasantest picture that we have of her is in Lockhart’s description of her visit to Scott in May 1831. She was asked there to help to amuse the dying master of Abbotsford, who, when he was not writing Count Robert of Paris, would talk as brilliantly as ever. Only sometimes, before he had reached the point in a narrative, “it would seem as if some internal spring had given way.” He would pause, and gaze blankly and anxiously round him. “I noticed,” says Lockhart, “the delicacy of Miss Ferrier on such occasions. Her sight was bad, and she took care not to use her glasses when he was speaking; and she affected to be also troubled with deafness, and would say, ‘Well, I am getting as dull as a post; I have not heard a word since you said so-and-so,’—being sure to mention a circumstance behind that at which he had really halted. He then took up the thread with his habitual smile of courtesy—as if forgetting his case entirely in the consideration of the lady’s infirmity.”

Miss Ferrier’s mother passed away in 1797, and from that time on, she took care of her father until he died in 1829. She lived quietly at Morningside House and in Edinburgh for more than twenty years after her last book was published. The most pleasant image we have of her comes from Lockhart’s account of her visit to Scott in May 1831. She was invited there to help entertain the dying master of Abbotsford, who, when he wasn’t writing Count Robert of Paris, could still talk as brilliantly as ever. However, sometimes, before he reached a certain point in a story, “it would seem as if some internal spring had given way.” He would pause, looking around blankly and anxiously. “I noticed,” Lockhart writes, “the delicacy of Miss Ferrier in such moments. Her eyesight was poor, and she made sure not to wear her glasses while he was speaking; she pretended to be hard of hearing too, saying, ‘Well, I’m getting as dull as a post; I haven’t heard a word since you said so-and-so,’—making sure to mention something that had happened right before he got stuck. He would then pick up the story again with his usual courteous smile—as if completely forgetting his own predicament in consideration of the lady’s difficulties.”

Miss Ferrier died on the 5th of November 1854, at her brother’s house in Edinburgh. She left among her papers a short unpublished article, entitled “Recollections of Visits to Ashestiel and Abbotsford.” This is her own very interesting account of her long friendship with Sir Walter Scott, from the date of her first visit to him and Lady Scott at Ashestiel, where she went with her father in the autumn of 1811, to her last sad visit to Abbotsford in 1831. It contains some impromptu verses written by Scott in her album at Ashestiel.

Miss Ferrier passed away on November 5, 1854, at her brother's home in Edinburgh. Among her papers, she left a short unpublished article titled “Recollections of Visits to Ashestiel and Abbotsford.” This is her own fascinating account of her long friendship with Sir Walter Scott, starting from her first visit to him and Lady Scott at Ashestiel, which she made with her father in the fall of 1811, to her last poignant visit to Abbotsford in 1831. It includes some spontaneous verses written by Scott in her album at Ashestiel.

Miss Ferrier’s letters to her sister, which contained much interesting biographical matter, were destroyed at her particular request, but a volume of her correspondence with a memoir by her grand-nephew, John Ferrier, was published in 1898.

Miss Ferrier's letters to her sister, which included a lot of interesting biographical information, were destroyed at her specific request, but a collection of her correspondence along with a memoir by her grand-nephew, John Ferrier, was published in 1898.


FERROL [El Ferrol], a seaport of north-western Spain, in the province of Corunna; situated 12 m. N.E. of the city of Corunna, and on the Bay of Ferrol, an inlet of the Atlantic Ocean. Pop. (1900) 25,281. Together with San Fernando, near Cadiz, and Cartagena, Ferrol is governed by an admiral, with the special title of captain-general; and it ranks beside these two ports as one of the principal naval stations of Spain. The town is beautifully situated on a headland overlooking the bay, and is surrounded by rocky hills which render it invisible from the sea. Its harbour, naturally one of the best in Europe, and the largest in Spain except those of Vigo and Corunna, is deep, capacious and secure; but the entrance is a narrow strait about 2 m. long, which admits only one vessel at a time, and is commanded by modern and powerfully armed forts, while the neighbouring heights are also crowned by defensive works. Ferrol is provided with extensive dockyards, quays, warehouses and an arsenal; most of these, with the palace of the captain-general, the bull-ring, theatres, and other principal buildings, were built or modernized between 1875 and 1905. The local industries are mainly connected with the shipping trade, or the refitting of warships. Owing to the lack of railway communication, and the competition of Corunna at so short a distance, Ferrol is not a first-class commercial port; and in the early years of the 20th century its trade, already injured by the loss to Spain of Cuba and Porto Rico in 1898, showed little prospect of improvement. The exports are insignificant, and consist chiefly of wooden staves and beams for use as pit-props; the chief imports are coal, cement, timber, iron and machinery. In 1904, 282 vessels of 155,881 tons entered the harbour. In the same year the construction of a railway to the neighbouring town of Betanzos was undertaken, and in 1909 important shipbuilding operations were begun.

FERROL [El Ferrol], a seaport in northwestern Spain, located 12 miles northeast of the city of Corunna, along the Bay of Ferrol, which is an inlet of the Atlantic Ocean. Population (1900) was 25,281. Along with San Fernando, near Cadiz, and Cartagena, Ferrol is managed by an admiral, who holds the special title of captain-general; it ranks alongside these two ports as one of Spain’s major naval stations. The town is beautifully positioned on a headland that overlooks the bay and is surrounded by rocky hills that make it invisible from the sea. Its harbor, naturally one of the best in Europe and the largest in Spain aside from Vigo and Corunna, is deep, spacious, and safe; however, the entrance is a narrow strait about 2 miles long, allowing only one vessel at a time, and is protected by modern and heavily armed forts, with additional defensive structures on the nearby heights. Ferrol features extensive dockyards, quays, warehouses, and an arsenal; most of these, along with the palace of the captain-general, the bullring, theaters, and other main buildings, were constructed or updated between 1875 and 1905. The local industries are mainly linked to shipping trade or the refitting of warships. Due to the lack of railway connections and the nearby competition from Corunna, Ferrol is not a top-tier commercial port; by the early 20th century, its trade, already impacted by the loss of Cuba and Puerto Rico in 1898, showed little potential for recovery. The exports are modest, primarily consisting of wooden staves and beams for use as pit props; the main imports include coal, cement, timber, iron, and machinery. In 1904, 282 vessels with a total of 155,881 tons entered the harbor. That same year, construction of a railway to the nearby town of Betanzos was initiated, and in 1909, significant shipbuilding activities began.

Ferrol was a mere fishing village until 1752, when Ferdinand VI. began to fit it for becoming an arsenal. In 1799 the British made a fruitless attempt to capture it, but on the 4th of November 1805 they defeated the French fleet in front of the town, which they compelled to surrender. On the 27th of January 1809 it was through treachery delivered over to the French, but it was vacated by them on the 22nd of July. On the 15th of July 1823 another blockade was begun by the French, and Ferrol surrendered to them on the 27th of August.

Ferrol was just a small fishing village until 1752, when Ferdinand VI started turning it into a naval base. In 1799, the British tried to capture it but failed. However, on November 4, 1805, they defeated the French fleet near the town and forced it to surrender. On January 27, 1809, it was handed over to the French due to betrayal, but they left on July 22. Then, on July 15, 1823, the French blockaded Ferrol again, and it surrendered to them on August 27.


FERRUCCIO, or Ferrucci, FRANCESCO (1489-1530), Florentine captain. After spending a few years as a merchant’s clerk he took to soldiering at an early age, and served in the Bande Nere in various parts of Italy, earning a reputation as a daring fighter and somewhat of a swashbuckler. When Pope Clement VII. and the emperor Charles V. decided to reinstate the Medici in Florence, they made war on the Florentine republic, and Ferruccio was appointed Florentine military commissioner at Empoli, where he showed great daring and resource by his rapid marches and sudden attacks on the Imperialists. Early in 1530 Volterra had thrown off Florentine allegiance and had been occupied by an Imperialist garrison, but Ferruccio surprised and recaptured the city. During his absence, however, the Imperialists captured Empoli by treachery, thus cutting off one of the chief avenues of approach to Florence. Ferruccio proposed to the government of the republic that he should march on Rome and terrorize the pope by the threat of a sack into making peace with Florence on favourable terms, but although the war committee appointed him commissioner-general for the operations outside the city, they rejected his scheme as too audacious. Ferruccio then decided to attempt a diversion by attacking the Imperialists in the rear and started from Volterra for the Apennines. But at Pisa he was laid up for a month with a fever—a misfortune which enabled the enemy to get wind of his plan and to prepare for his attack. At the end of July Ferruccio left Pisa at the head of about 4000 men, and although the besieged in Florence, knowing that a large part of the Imperialists under the prince of Orange had gone to meet Ferruccio, wished to co-operate with the latter by means of a sortie, they were prevented from doing so by their own traitorous commander-in-chief, Malatesta Baglioni. Ferruccio encountered a much larger force of the enemy on the 3rd of August at Gavinana; a desperate battle ensued, and at first the Imperialists were driven back by Ferruccio’s fierce onslaught and the prince of Orange himself was killed, but reinforcements under Fabrizio Maramaldo having arrived, the Florentines were almost annihilated and Ferruccio was wounded and captured. Maramaldo out of personal spite despatched the wounded man with his own hand. This defeat sealed the fate of the republic, and nine days later Florence surrendered. Ferruccio was one of the great soldiers of the age, and his enterprise is the finest episode of the last days of the Florentine republic. See also under Florence and Medici.

FERRUCCIO, or Ferrucci, FRANCESCO (1489-1530), Florentine captain. After working as a merchant’s clerk for a few years, he joined the military at a young age and served in the Bande Nere throughout various regions of Italy, earning a reputation as a bold fighter and a bit of a swashbuckler. When Pope Clement VII and Emperor Charles V decided to restore the Medici in Florence, they waged war on the Florentine republic. Ferruccio was appointed as the Florentine military commissioner in Empoli, where he demonstrated great bravery and resourcefulness through his quick marches and sudden attacks on the Imperial forces. Early in 1530, Volterra had rejected Florentine allegiance and was occupied by an Imperialist garrison, but Ferruccio surprised and recaptured the city. However, while he was away, the Imperialists betrayed Empoli, cutting off a key route to Florence. Ferruccio suggested to the republic’s government that he march on Rome and intimidate the pope with the threat of looting to negotiate a favorable peace with Florence. Although the war committee made him commissioner-general for the operations outside the city, they rejected his plan as too audacious. Ferruccio then decided to create a diversion by attacking the Imperialists from the rear and set off from Volterra towards the Apennines. But in Pisa, he fell ill with a fever for a month—a setback that allowed the enemy to learn of his plan and prepare for his attack. By the end of July, Ferruccio left Pisa leading about 4,000 men, and although the defenders in Florence wanted to support him with a sortie since a large part of the Imperialists, led by the Prince of Orange, had gone to confront Ferruccio, their own treacherous commander-in-chief, Malatesta Baglioni, prevented them from doing so. On August 3rd, Ferruccio faced a much larger enemy force at Gavinana; a fierce battle broke out, and initially, the Imperialists were pushed back by Ferruccio’s relentless assault, resulting in the death of the Prince of Orange. However, reinforcements led by Fabrizio Maramaldo arrived, and the Florentines were nearly wiped out, with Ferruccio being wounded and captured. Out of personal vengeance, Maramaldo killed the wounded man himself. This defeat marked the downfall of the republic, and nine days later, Florence surrendered. Ferruccio was one of the great soldiers of his time, and his actions are the most notable episode of the final days of the Florentine republic. See also under Florence and Medici.

Bibliography.—F. Sassetti, Vita di Francesco Ferrucci, written in the 16th century and published in the Archivio storico, vol. iv. pt. ii. (Florence, 1853), with an introduction by C. Monzani; E. Aloisi, La Battaglia di Gavinana (Bologna, 1881); cf. P. Villari’s criticism of the latter work, “Ferruccio e Maramaldo,” in his Arte, storia, e filosofia (Florence, 1884); Gino Capponi, Storia della repubblica di Firenze, vol. ii. (Florence, 1875).

References.—F. Sassetti, Vita di Francesco Ferrucci, written in the 16th century and published in the Archivio storico, vol. iv. pt. ii. (Florence, 1853), with an introduction by C. Monzani; E. Aloisi, La Battaglia di Gavinana (Bologna, 1881); see P. Villari’s critique of the latter work, “Ferruccio e Maramaldo,” in his Arte, storia, e filosofia (Florence, 1884); Gino Capponi, Storia della repubblica di Firenze, vol. ii. (Florence, 1875).


FERRULE, a small metal cap or ring used for holding parts of a rod, &c., together, and for giving strength to weakened materials, or especially, when attached to the end of a stick, umbrella, &c., for preventing wearing or splitting. The word is properly verrel or verril, in which form it was used till the 18th century, and is derived through the O. Fr. virelle, modern 290 virole, from a diminutive Latin viriola of viriae, bracelets. The form in which the word is now known is due to the influence of Latin ferrum, iron. “Ferrule” must be distinguished from “ferule” or “ferula,” properly the Latin name of the “giant fennel.” From the use of the stalk of this plant as a cane or rod for punishment, comes the application of the word to many instruments used in chastisement, more particularly a short flat piece of wood or leather shaped somewhat like the sole of a boot, and applied to the palms of the hand. It is the common form of disciplinary instrument in Roman Catholic schools; the pain inflicted is exceedingly sharp and immediate, but the effects are momentary and leave no chance for any dangerous results. The word is sometimes applied to the ordinary cane as used by schoolmasters.

FERRULE, a small metal cap or ring used for holding parts of a rod, etc., together, and for strengthening weakened materials. When attached to the end of a stick, umbrella, etc., it helps prevent wear or splitting. The word was originally verrel or verril, which was common until the 18th century. It comes from the Old French virelle, modern virole, which is derived from a diminutive Latin viriola of viriae, meaning bracelets. The current form of the word has been influenced by the Latin ferrum, meaning iron. “Ferrule” should not be confused with “ferule” or “ferula,” which is the Latin name for the “giant fennel.” The use of the stalk of this plant as a cane or rod for punishment led to the word being applied to various instruments used in chastisement, particularly a short flat piece of wood or leather shaped somewhat like the sole of a boot, used on the palms of the hand. It is the common form of disciplinary instrument in Roman Catholic schools; the pain it inflicts is sharp and immediate, but the effects are brief and leave no chance for serious consequences. The word is sometimes used to refer to an ordinary cane used by teachers.


FERRY, JULES FRANÇOIS CAMILLE (1832-1893), French statesman, was born at Saint Dié (Vosges) on the 5th of April 1832. He studied law, and was called to the bar at Paris, but soon went into politics, contributing to various newspapers, particularly to the Temps. He attacked the Empire with great violence, directing his opposition especially against Baron Haussmann, prefect of the Seine. Elected republican deputy for Paris in 1869, he protested against the declaration of war with Germany, and on the 6th of September 1870 was appointed prefect of the Seine by the government of national defence. In this position he had the difficult task of administering Paris during the siege, and after the Commune was obliged to resign (5th of June 1871). From 1872-1873 he was sent by Thiers as minister to Athens, but returned to the chamber as deputy for the Vosges, and became one of the leaders of the republican party. When the first republican ministry was formed under W.H. Waddington on the 4th of February 1879, he was one of its members, and continued in the ministry until the 30th of March 1885, except for two short interruptions (from the 10th of November 1881 to the 30th of January 1882, and from the 29th of July 1882 to the 21st of February 1883), first as minister of education and then as minister of foreign affairs. He was twice premier (1880-1881 and 1883-1885). Two important works are associated with his administration, the non-clerical organization of public education, and the beginning of the colonial expansion of France. Following the republican programme he proposed to destroy the influence of the clergy in the university. He reorganized the committee of public education (law of the 27th of February 1880), and proposed a regulation for the conferring of university degrees, which, though rejected, aroused violent polemics because the 7th article took away from the unauthorized religious orders the right to teach. He finally succeeded in passing the great law of the 28th of March 1882, which made primary education in France free, non-clerical and obligatory. In higher education the number of professors doubled under his ministry. After the military defeat of France by Germany in 1870, he formed the idea of acquiring a great colonial empire, not to colonize it, but for the sake of economic exploitation. He directed the negotiations which led to the establishment of a French protectorate in Tunis (1881), prepared the treaty of the 17th of December 1885 for the occupation of Madagascar; directed the exploration of the Congo and of the Niger region; and above all he organized the conquest of Indo-China. The excitement caused at Paris by an unimportant reverse of the French troops at Lang-son caused his downfall (30th of March 1885), but the treaty of peace with China (9th of June 1885) was his work. He still remained an influential member of the moderate republican party, and directed the opposition to General Boulanger. After the resignation of President Grévy (2nd of December 1887), he was a candidate for the presidency of the republic, but the radicals refused to support him, and he withdrew in favour of Sadi Carnot. The violent polemics aroused against him at this time caused a madman to attack him with a revolver, and he died from the wound, on the 17th of March 1893. The chamber of deputies voted him a state funeral.

FERRY, JULES FRANÇOIS CAMILLE (1832-1893), a French politician, was born in Saint Dié (Vosges) on April 5, 1832. He studied law and was admitted to the bar in Paris, but soon shifted to politics, writing for various newspapers, especially the Temps. He fiercely criticized the Empire, particularly targeting Baron Haussmann, the prefect of the Seine. Elected as a republican deputy for Paris in 1869, he opposed the declaration of war with Germany and was appointed prefect of the Seine by the national defense government on September 6, 1870. In this role, he faced the challenge of managing Paris during the siege, and he was forced to resign after the Commune on June 5, 1871. From 1872-1873, he was sent by Thiers as a minister to Athens but returned to the chamber as a deputy for Vosges and became one of the leaders of the republican party. When the first republican government was formed under W.H. Waddington on February 4, 1879, he became a part of it and stayed in the ministry until March 30, 1885, with two brief interruptions (from November 10, 1881, to January 30, 1882, and from July 29, 1882, to February 21, 1883), first serving as minister of education and then as minister of foreign affairs. He was prime minister twice (1880-1881 and 1883-1885). Two significant achievements of his administration include the secular organization of public education and the start of France's colonial expansion. Following the republican agenda, he aimed to reduce the clergy's influence in universities. He reorganized the public education committee (law of February 27, 1880) and proposed regulations for granting university degrees, which sparked intense debate because the 7th article stripped unauthorized religious orders of their right to teach. He ultimately passed the important law on March 28, 1882, which established free, secular, and mandatory primary education in France. The number of professors in higher education doubled during his tenure. After France's military defeat by Germany in 1870, he conceived the idea of acquiring a vast colonial empire not for settlement but for economic exploitation. He led negotiations that resulted in the establishment of a French protectorate in Tunisia (1881), prepared the treaty of December 17, 1885, for the occupation of Madagascar, directed explorations of the Congo and Niger regions, and, most importantly, organized the conquest of Indochina. The uproar in Paris over a minor setback for French troops at Langson led to his downfall on March 30, 1885, but he was responsible for the peace treaty with China (June 9, 1885). He remained an influential member of the moderate republican party and led the opposition against General Boulanger. After President Grévy's resignation on December 2, 1887, he ran for the presidency but withdrew in favor of Sadi Carnot when the radicals refused to back him. The fierce debates against him during this period led to an attack by a madman with a revolver, resulting in his death on March 17, 1893. The chamber of deputies awarded him a state funeral.

See Edg. Zevort, Histoire de la troisième République; A. Rambaud, Jules Ferry (Paris, 1903).

See Edg. Zevort, History of the Third Republic; A. Rambaud, Jules Ferry (Paris, 1903).


FERRY (from the same root as that of the verb “to fare,” to journey or travel, common to Teutonic languages, cf. Ger. fahren; it is connected with the root of Gr. πόρος, way, and Lat. portare, to carry), a place where boats ply regularly across a river or arm of the sea for the conveyance of goods and persons. The word is also applied to the boats employed (ferry boats). In a car-ferry or train-ferry railway cars or complete trains are conveyed across a piece of water in vessels which have railway lines laid on their decks, so that the vehicles run on and off them on their own wheels. In law the right of ferrying persons or goods across a particular river or strait, and of exacting a reasonable toll for the service, belongs, like the right of fair and market, to the class of rights known as franchises. Its origin must be by statute, royal grant, or prescription. It is wholly unconnected with the ownership or occupation of land, so that the owner of the ferry need not be proprietor of the soil on either side of the water over which the right is exercised. He is bound to maintain safe and suitable boats ready for the use of the public, and to employ fit persons as ferrymen. As a correlative of this duty he has a right of action, not only against those who evade or refuse payment of toll when it is due, but also against those who disturb his franchise by setting up a new ferry, so as to diminish his custom, unless a change of circumstances, such as an increase of population near the ferry, justify other means of passage, whether of the same kind or not. See also Water Rights.

FERRY (from the same root as the verb “to fare,” meaning to journey or travel, common in Teutonic languages, e.g., Ger. fahren; it is linked to the root of Gr. resources, meaning way, and Lat. portare, meaning to carry), refers to a location where boats regularly cross a river or body of water to transport goods and people. The term also applies to the boats used for this purpose (ferry boats). In a car-ferry or train-ferry, railway cars or entire trains are transported across a body of water using vessels that have railway tracks on their decks, allowing the vehicles to drive on and off on their own wheels. Legally, the right to ferry people or goods across a specific river or strait and to charge a reasonable fee for the service is part of a class of rights known as franchises, similar to the rights of fairs and markets. Its origin must be established by statute, royal grant, or longstanding practice. It is entirely separate from land ownership, meaning the ferry operator does not need to own the land on either side of the water where the right is exercised. They are required to maintain safe and suitable boats available for public use and to hire qualified ferrymen. In return for this duty, they have the right to take action against those who avoid or refuse to pay the toll when it's due, as well as against anyone who threatens their franchise by starting a new ferry that reduces their business, unless a change in circumstances, like an increase in population near the ferry, justifies other forms of passage, whether similar or not. See also Water Rights.


FERSEN, FREDRIK AXEL, Count von (1719-1794), Swedish politician, was a son of Lieutenant-General Hans Reinhold Fersen and entered the Swedish Life Guards in 1740, and from 1743 to 1748 was in the French service (Royal-Suédois), where he rose to the rank of brigadier. In the Seven Years’ War Fersen distinguished himself during the operations round Usedom and Wollin (1759), when he inflicted serious loss on the Prussians. But it is as a politician that he is best known. At the diet of 1755-1756 he was elected landtmarskalk, or marshal of the diet, and from henceforth, till the revolution of 1772, led the Hat party (see Sweden: History). In 1756 he defeated the projects of the court for increasing the royal power; but, after the disasters of the Seven Years’ War, gravitated towards the court again and contributed, by his energy and eloquence, to uphold the tottering Hats for several years. On the accession of the Caps to power in 1766, Fersen assisted the court in its struggle with them by refusing to employ the Guards to keep order in the capital when King Adolphus Frederick, driven to desperation by the demands of the Caps, publicly abdicated, and a seven days’ interregnum ensued. At the ensuing diet of 1769, when the Hats returned to power, Fersen was again elected marshal of the diet; but he made no attempt to redeem his pledges to the crown prince Gustavus, as to a very necessary reform of the constitution, which he had made before the elections, and thus involuntarily contributed to the subsequent establishment of absolutism. When Gustavus III. ascended the throne in 1772, and attempted to reconcile the two factions by a composition which aimed at dividing all political power between them, Fersen said he despaired of bringing back, in a moment, to the path of virtue and patriotism a people who had been running riot for more than half a century in the wilderness of political licence and corruption. Nevertheless he consented to open negotiations with the Caps, and was the principal Hat representative on the abortive composition committee. During the revolution of August 1772, Fersen remained a passive spectator of the overthrow of the constitution, and was one of the first whom Gustavus summoned to his side after his triumph. Yet his relations with the king were never cordial. The old party-leader could never forget that he had once been a power in the state, and it is evident, from his Historiska Skrifter, how jealous he was of Gustavus’s personal qualities. There was a slight collision between them as early as the diet of 1778; but at the diet of 1786 Fersen boldly led the opposition against the king’s financial measures (see Gustavus III.) which were consequently rejected; while in private interviews, if his own account of them is to be trusted, he addressed his sovereign with 291 outrageous insolence. At the diet of 1789 Fersen marshalled the nobility around him for a combat à outrance against the throne and that, too, at a time when Sweden was involved in two dangerous foreign wars, and national unity was absolutely indispensable. This tactical blunder cost him his popularity and materially assisted the secret operations of the king. Obstruction was Fersen’s chief weapon, and he continued to postpone the granting of subsidies by the house of nobles for some weeks. But after frequent stormy scenes in the diet, which were only prevented from becoming mêlées by Fersen’s moderation, or hesitation, at the critical moment, he and twenty of his friends of the nobility were arrested (17th February 1789) and the opposition collapsed. Fersen was speedily released, but henceforth kept aloof from politics, surviving the king two years. He was a man of great natural talent, with an imposing presence, and he always bore himself like the aristocrat he was. But his haughtiness and love of power are undeniable, and he was perhaps too great a party-leader to be a great statesman. Yet for seventeen years, with very brief intervals, he controlled the destinies of Sweden, and his influence in France was for some time pretty considerable. His Historiska Skrifter, which are a record of Swedish history, mainly autobiographical, during the greater part of the 18th century, is excellent as literature, but somewhat unreliable as an historical document, especially in the later parts.

FERSEN, FREDRIK AXEL, Count von (1719-1794), Swedish politician, was the son of Lieutenant-General Hans Reinhold Fersen. He joined the Swedish Life Guards in 1740 and served in the French army (Royal-Suédois) from 1743 to 1748, where he earned the rank of brigadier. During the Seven Years’ War, Fersen made a name for himself in the battles around Usedom and Wollin (1759), where he caused significant losses for the Prussians. However, he is best known as a politician. At the diet of 1755-1756, he was elected landtmarskalk, or marshal of the diet, and he led the Hat party until the revolution of 1772 (see Sweden: History). In 1756, he thwarted the court's attempts to increase royal power. Yet, after the setbacks of the Seven Years’ War, he shifted towards the court and helped sustain the struggling Hats for several years through his energy and eloquence. When the Caps gained power in 1766, Fersen aided the court in its conflict with them by refusing to use the Guards to maintain order in the capital when King Adolphus Frederick, overwhelmed by the Caps' demands, publicly abdicated, leading to a week-long interregnum. At the subsequent diet of 1769, when the Hats returned to power, Fersen was again elected marshal of the diet. However, he did not follow through on his promises to crown prince Gustavus for crucial constitutional reforms made before the election, inadvertently contributing to the later rise of absolutism. When Gustavus III. took the throne in 1772 and sought to reconcile the two factions by attempting to split all political power between them, Fersen expressed doubt about quickly restoring virtue and patriotism to a people who had been indulging in political chaos and corruption for over fifty years. Nonetheless, he agreed to open negotiations with the Caps and was the main Hat representative on the unsuccessful committee. During the revolution of August 1772, Fersen remained a passive observer during the constitutional upheaval and was among the first Gustavus called to his side after his victory. However, his relationship with the king was never warm. The veteran politician could not forget that he had once wielded power in the state, and his Historiska Skrifter reveals his jealousy of Gustavus’s personal qualities. A minor clash occurred between them as early as the diet of 1778, but at the diet of 1786, Fersen bravely opposed the king’s financial strategies (see Gustavus III.), which were subsequently rejected. In private meetings, if his own account is to be believed, he reportedly spoke to the king with great insolence. At the diet of 1789, Fersen rallied the nobility for an all-out fight against the throne, even as Sweden was entangled in two risky foreign wars, making national unity crucial. This strategic mistake cost him his popularity and significantly aided the king's covert efforts. Obstruction was Fersen's main tactic, and he delayed the approval of subsidies by the nobility for several weeks. However, after multiple tumultuous scenes in the diet, which were only prevented from escalating into chaos thanks to Fersen's moderation or hesitation at critical moments, he and twenty friends were arrested on February 17, 1789, leading to the collapse of the opposition. Fersen was quickly released but thereafter distanced himself from politics, outliving the king by two years. He was a man of great natural talent, with a commanding presence, and he always carried himself like the aristocrat he was. Nevertheless, his arrogance and desire for power are clear, and he may have been too influential as a party leader to be an effective statesman. Yet for seventeen years, with brief interruptions, he directed the fate of Sweden, and his influence in France was considerable for a time. His Historiska Skrifter, which documents Swedish history, primarily in an autobiographical form, during much of the 18th century, is excellent literature but somewhat unreliable as a historical source, particularly in its later sections.

See C.G. Malmström, Sveriges politiska Historia (Stockholm, 1855-1865); R.N. Bain, Gustavus III. (London, 1895); C.T. Odhner, Sveriges politiska Historia under Gustaf III.’s Regering (Stockholm, 1885, &c.); F.A. Fersen, Historiska Skrifter (Stockholm, 1867-1872).

See C.G. Malmström, Sveriges politiska Historia (Stockholm, 1855-1865); R.N. Bain, Gustavus III. (London, 1895); C.T. Odhner, Sveriges politiska Historia under Gustaf III.’s Regering (Stockholm, 1885, &c.); F.A. Fersen, Historiska Skrifter (Stockholm, 1867-1872).

(R. N. B.)

FERSEN, HANS AXEL, Count von (1755-1810), Swedish statesman, was carefully educated at home, at the Carolinum at Brunswick and at Turin. In 1779 he entered the French military service (Royal-Bavière), accompanied General Rochambeau to America as his adjutant, distinguished himself during the war with England, notably at the siege of Yorktown, 1781, and in 1785 was promoted to be colonel propriétaire of the regiment Royal-Suédois. The young nobleman was, from the first, a prime favourite at the French court, owing, partly to the recollection of his father’s devotion to France, but principally because of his own amiable and brilliant qualities. The queen, Marie Antoinette, was especially attracted by the grace and wit of le beau Fersen, who had inherited his full share of the striking handsomeness which was hereditary in the family.

FERSEN, HANS AXEL, Count von (1755-1810), a Swedish statesman, received a thorough education at home, at the Carolinum in Brunswick, and in Turin. In 1779, he joined the French military service (Royal-Bavière), serving as an adjutant to General Rochambeau in America, where he made a name for himself during the war with England, particularly at the siege of Yorktown in 1781. By 1785, he was promoted to colonel propriétaire of the Royal-Suédois regiment. From the beginning, this young noble was a favorite at the French court, partly due to his father's loyalty to France, but mainly because of his own charming and impressive traits. Queen Marie Antoinette was particularly drawn to the elegance and wit of le beau Fersen, who inherited the striking good looks that ran in his family.

It is possible that Fersen would have spent most of his life at Versailles, but for a hint from his own sovereign, then at Pisa, that he desired him to join his suite. He accompanied Gustavus III. in his Italian tour and returned home with him in 1784. When the war with Russia broke out, in 1788, Fersen accompanied his regiment to Finland, but in the autumn of the same year was sent to France, where the political horizon was already darkening. It was necessary for Gustavus to have an agent thoroughly in the confidence of the French royal family, and, at the same time, sufficiently able and audacious to help them in their desperate straits, especially as he had lost all confidence in his accredited minister, the baron de Stael. With his usual acumen, he fixed upon Fersen, who was at his post early in 1790. Before the end of the year he was forced to admit that the cause of the French monarchy was hopeless so long as the king and queen of France were nothing but captives in their own capital, at the mercy of an irresponsible mob. He took a leading part in the flight to Varennes. He found most of the requisite funds at the last moment. He ordered the construction of the famous carriage for six, in the name of the baroness von Korff, and kept it in his hotel grounds, rue Matignon, that all Paris might get accustomed to the sight of it. He was the coachman of the fiacre which drove the royal family from the Carrousel to the Porte Saint-Martin. He accompanied them to Bondy, the first stage of their journey.

It's likely that Fersen would have spent most of his life at Versailles if it weren't for a suggestion from his own king, who was then in Pisa, asking him to join his entourage. He traveled with Gustavus III. on his tour of Italy and came back home with him in 1784. When the war with Russia began in 1788, Fersen went with his regiment to Finland, but in the fall of that same year, he was sent to France, where the political situation was already becoming grim. Gustavus needed someone who had the trust of the French royal family and was capable and bold enough to assist them in their desperate situation, especially since he had lost faith in his appointed minister, Baron de Stael. Using his usual sharp judgment, he chose Fersen, who was on the scene by early 1790. By the end of the year, he was forced to acknowledge that the French monarchy's cause was hopeless as long as the king and queen remained prisoners in their own capital, at the mercy of an unruly mob. He played a key role in the flight to Varennes. At the last minute, he secured most of the necessary funds. He arranged for the famous six-person carriage to be built under the name of Baroness von Korff and kept it on the grounds of his hotel on Rue Matignon, so that all of Paris could get used to seeing it. He was the driver of the fiacre that took the royal family from the Carrousel to the Porte Saint-Martin. He accompanied them to Bondy, the first stop on their journey.

In August 1791, Fersen was sent to Vienna to induce the emperor Leopold to accede to a new coalition against revolutionary France, but he soon came to the conclusion that the Austrian court meant to do nothing at all. At his own request, therefore, he was transferred to Brussels, where he could be of more service to the queen of France. In February 1792, at his own mortal peril, he once more succeeded in reaching Paris with counterfeit credentials as minister plenipotentiary to Portugal. On the 13th he arrived, and the same evening contrived to steal an interview with the queen unobserved. On the following day he was with the royal family from six o’clock in the evening till six o’clock the next morning, and convinced himself that a second flight was physically impossible. On the afternoon of the 21st he succeeded in paying a third visit to the Tuileries, stayed there till midnight and succeeded, with great difficulty, in regaining Brussels on the 27th. This perilous expedition, a monumental instance of courage and loyalty, had no substantial result. In 1797 Fersen was sent to the congress of Rastatt as the Swedish delegate, but in consequence of a protest from the French government, was not permitted to take part in it.

In August 1791, Fersen was sent to Vienna to persuade Emperor Leopold to join a new coalition against revolutionary France, but he quickly realized that the Austrian court planned to take no action. At his own request, he was then transferred to Brussels, where he could be more helpful to the queen of France. In February 1792, risking his life, he successfully made it to Paris with fake credentials as the minister plenipotentiary to Portugal. He arrived on the 13th and that evening managed to sneak in an interview with the queen without being noticed. The next day, he spent from six in the evening until six the next morning with the royal family and concluded that a second escape was physically impossible. On the afternoon of the 21st, he managed to visit the Tuileries for a third time, stayed there until midnight, and with great difficulty made it back to Brussels on the 27th. This dangerous mission, a remarkable display of courage and loyalty, had no significant outcome. In 1797, Fersen was sent as the Swedish delegate to the congress of Rastatt, but due to a protest from the French government, he was not allowed to participate.

During the regency of the duke of Sudermania (1792-1796) Fersen, like all the other Gustavians, was in disgrace; but, on Gustavus IV. attaining his majority in 1796, he was welcomed back to court with open arms, and reinstated in all his offices and dignities. In 1801 he was appointed Riksmarskalk (= earl-marshal). On the outbreak of the war with Napoleon, Fersen accompanied Gustavus IV. to Germany to assist him in gaining fresh allies. He prevented Gustavus from invading Prussia in revenge for the refusal of the king of Prussia to declare war against France, and during the rest of the reign was in semi-disgrace, though generally a member of the government when the king was abroad.

During the regency of the Duke of Sudermania (1792-1796), Fersen, like all the other Gustavians, was out of favor. However, when Gustavus IV. came of age in 1796, he was welcomed back to court with open arms and restored to all his offices and titles. In 1801, he was appointed Riksmarskalk (= earl-marshal). When the war with Napoleon broke out, Fersen accompanied Gustavus IV. to Germany to help him secure new allies. He persuaded Gustavus not to invade Prussia in response to the Prussian king's refusal to declare war against France, and for the remainder of the reign, he lived in semi-disgrace, although he generally participated in the government when the king was abroad.

Fersen stood quite aloof from the revolution of 1809. (See Sweden: History.) His sympathies were entirely with Prince Gustavus, son of the unfortunate Gustavus IV., and he was generally credited with the desire to see him king. When the newly elected successor to the throne, the highly popular prince Christian Augustus of Augustenburg, died suddenly in Skåne in May 1810, the report spread that he had been poisoned, and that Fersen and his sister, the countess Piper, were accessories. The source of this equally absurd and infamous libel has never been discovered. But it was eagerly taken up by the anti-Gustavian press, and popular suspicion was especially aroused by a fable called “The Foxes” directed against the Fersens, which appeared in Nya Posten. When, then, on the 20th of June 1810, the prince’s body was conveyed to Stockholm, and Fersen, in his official capacity as Riksmarskalk, received it at the barrier and led the funeral cortège into the city, his fine carriage and his splendid robes seemed to the people an open derision of the general grief. The crowd began to murmur and presently to fling stones and cry “murderer!” He sought refuge in a house in the Riddarhus Square, but the mob rushed after him, brutally maltreated him and tore his robes to pieces. To quiet the people and save the unhappy victim, two officers volunteered to conduct him to the senate house and there place him in arrest. But he had no sooner mounted the steps leading to the entrance than the crowd, which had followed him all the way beating him with sticks and umbrellas, made a rush at him, knocked him down, and kicked and trampled him to death. This horrible outrage, which lasted more than an hour, happened, too, in the presence of numerous troops, drawn up in the Riddarhus Square, who made not the slightest effort to rescue the Riksmarskalk from his tormentors. In the circumstances, one must needs adopt the opinion of Fersen’s contemporary, Baron Gustavus Armfelt, “One is almost tempted to say that the government wanted to give the people a victim to play with, just as when one throws something to an irritated wild beast to distract its attention. The more I consider it all, the more I am certain that the mob had the least to do with it.... But in God’s name what were the troops about? How could such a thing happen in broad daylight during a procession, when troops and a military escort were actually present?” The responsibility certainly rests with the government of Charles XIII., which apparently intended to intimidate the Gustavians by the removal of one of 292 their principal leaders. Armfelt escaped in time, so Fersen fell the victim.

Fersen kept himself completely detached from the 1809 revolution. (See Sweden: History.) He fully supported Prince Gustavus, the son of the ill-fated Gustavus IV., and was widely believed to want him to become king. When the newly chosen heir to the throne, the extremely popular Prince Christian Augustus of Augustenburg, suddenly died in Skåne in May 1810, rumors circulated that he had been poisoned and that Fersen and his sister, Countess Piper, were involved. The origin of this ridiculous and scandalous accusation has never been identified. However, it was eagerly picked up by the anti-Gustavian press, and popular suspicion was particularly fueled by a story called "The Foxes" that targeted the Fersens and appeared in Nya Posten. When, on June 20, 1810, the prince's body was brought to Stockholm, and Fersen, in his official role as Riksmarskalk, received it at the border and led the funeral procession into the city, his elegant carriage and grand robes appeared to the public as a mockery of the widespread mourning. The crowd started to murmur and soon began throwing stones and shouting "murderer!" He took refuge in a house in Riddarhus Square, but the mob pursued him, brutally attacked him, and ripped his robes apart. To calm the crowd and save the unfortunate man, two officers stepped up to escort him to the senate house and place him under arrest. But as soon as he climbed the steps to the entrance, the crowd, which had followed him the whole way while beating him with sticks and umbrellas, surged forward, knocked him down, and kicked and trampled him to death. This horrific attack, lasting over an hour, took place in front of numerous troops standing in Riddarhus Square, who made no attempt to rescue the Riksmarskalk from his attackers. Given the circumstances, one has to agree with Fersen’s contemporary, Baron Gustavus Armfelt, who noted, “One is almost tempted to say that the government wanted to give the people a victim to vent their anger on, just like tossing something to an agitated wild beast to redirect its focus. The more I think about it, the more I believe that the mob had the least involvement in this... But for heaven’s sake, what were the troops doing? How could such a thing happen in broad daylight during a procession, with troops and a military escort actually present?” The responsibility clearly lies with the government of Charles XIII., which seemingly aimed to intimidate the Gustavians by getting rid of one of their key leaders. Armfelt managed to escape in time, leaving Fersen as the victim.

See R.M. Klinckowström, Le Comte de Fersen et la cour de France (Paris, 1877; Eng. ed., London, 1902); Historia om Axel von Fersens mord (Stockholm, 1844); R.N. Bain, Gustavus III., vol. ii. (London, 1895); P. Gaulot, Un Ami de la reine (Paris, 1892); F.F. Flach, Grefve Hans Axel von Fersen (Stockholm, 1896); E. Tegner, Gustaf Mauritz Armfelt, vol. iii. (Stockholm, 1883-1887).

See R.M. Klinckowström, Le Comte de Fersen et la cour de France (Paris, 1877; Eng. ed., London, 1902); Historia om Axel von Fersens mord (Stockholm, 1844); R.N. Bain, Gustavus III., vol. ii. (London, 1895); P. Gaulot, Un Ami de la reine (Paris, 1892); F.F. Flach, Grefve Hans Axel von Fersen (Stockholm, 1896); E. Tegner, Gustaf Mauritz Armfelt, vol. iii. (Stockholm, 1883-1887).

(R. N. B.)

FESCA, FREDERIC ERNEST (1789-1826), German violinist and composer of instrumental music, was born on the 15th of February 1789 at Magdeburg, where he received his early musical education. He completed his studies at Leipzig under Eberhard Müller, and at the early age of fifteen appeared before the public with several concerti for the violin, which were received with general applause, and resulted in his being appointed leading violinist of the Leipzig orchestra. This position he occupied till 1806, when he became concert-master to the duke of Oldenburg. In 1808 he was appointed solo-violinist by King Jerome of Westphalia at Cassel, and there he remained till the end of the French occupation (1814), when he went to Vienna, and soon afterwards to Carlsruhe, having been appointed concert-master to the grand-duke of Baden. His failing health prevented him from enjoying the numerous and well-deserved triumphs he owed to his art, and in 1826 he died of consumption at the early age of thirty-seven. As a virtuoso Fesca ranks amongst the best masters of the German school of violinists, the school subsequently of Spohr and of Joachim. Especially as leader of a quartet he is said to have been unrivalled with regard to classic dignity and simplicity of style. Amongst his compositions, his quartets for stringed instruments and other pieces of chamber music are the most remarkable. His two operas, Cantemira and Omar and Leila, were less successful, lacking dramatic power and originality. He also wrote some sacred compositions, and numerous songs and vocal quartets.

FESCA, FREDERIC ERNEST (1789-1826), was a German violinist and composer of instrumental music, born on February 15, 1789, in Magdeburg, where he received his early music education. He finished his studies in Leipzig under Eberhard Müller and, at just fifteen, performed in public with several violin concertos that garnered widespread acclaim, leading to his appointment as the principal violinist of the Leipzig orchestra. He held this position until 1806, when he became concert-master for the duke of Oldenburg. In 1808, he was named solo violinist by King Jerome of Westphalia in Cassel, where he remained until the end of the French occupation in 1814. Afterward, he moved to Vienna, and soon to Karlsruhe, where he became concert-master to the grand-duke of Baden. His declining health kept him from fully enjoying the many well-deserved successes of his career, and he died of tuberculosis in 1826 at the young age of thirty-seven. As a virtuoso, Fesca is considered one of the top masters of the German school of violinists, which later included Spohr and Joachim. Particularly as a chamber music leader, he was said to be unmatched in classic dignity and simplicity of style. Among his works, his quartets for string instruments and other chamber music pieces are the most notable. His two operas, Cantemira and Omar and Leila, were less successful due to their lack of dramatic power and originality. He also composed some sacred music, as well as numerous songs and vocal quartets.


FESCENNIA, an ancient city of Etruria, which is probably to be placed immediately to the N. of the modern Corchiano, 6 m. N.W. of Civita Castellana (see Falerii). The Via Amerina traverses it. G. Dennis (Cities and Cemeteries of Etruria, London, 1883, i. 115) proposed to place it at the Riserva S. Silvestro, 3 m. E. of Corchiano, nearer the Tiber, where remains of Etruscan walls exist. At Corchiano itself, however, similar walls may be traced, and the site is a strong and characteristic one—a triangle between two deep ravines, with the third (west) side cut off by a ditch. Here, too, remains of two bridges may be seen, and several rich tombs have been excavated.

FESCENNIA, an ancient city of Etruria, is probably located just north of the modern Corchiano, about 6 miles northwest of Civita Castellana (see Falerii). The Via Amerina runs through it. G. Dennis (Cities and Cemeteries of Etruria, London, 1883, i. 115) suggested placing it at the Riserva S. Silvestro, 3 miles east of Corchiano, closer to the Tiber, where remains of Etruscan walls can be found. However, at Corchiano itself, similar walls can also be traced, and the location is quite strong and distinctive—a triangle between two deep ravines, with the third side (to the west) cut off by a ditch. Here, remnants of two bridges can also be seen, and several rich tombs have been excavated.

See A. Buglione, “Conte di Monale,” in Römische Mitteilungen (1887), p. 21 seq.

See A. Buglione, “Conte di Monale,” in Römische Mitteilungen (1887), p. 21 seq.


FESCENNINE VERSES (Fescennina carmina), one of the earliest kinds of Italian poetry, subsequently developed into the Satura and the Roman comic drama. Originally sung at village harvest-home rejoicings, they made their way into the towns, and became the fashion at religious festivals and private gatherings—especially weddings, to which in later times they were practically restricted. They were usually in the Saturnian metre and took the form of a dialogue, consisting of an interchange of extemporaneous raillery. Those who took part in them wore masks made of the bark of trees. At first harmless and good-humoured, if somewhat coarse, these songs gradually outstripped the bounds of decency; malicious attacks were made upon both gods and men, and the matter became so serious that the law intervened and scurrilous personalities were forbidden by the Twelve Tables (Cicero, De re publica, iv. 10). Specimens of the Fescennines used at weddings are the Epithalamium of Manlius (Catullus, lxi. 122) and the four poems of Claudian in honour of the marriage of Honorius and Maria; the first, however, is distinguished by a licentiousness which is absent in the latter. Ausonius in his Cento nuptialis mentions the Fescennines of Annianus Faliscus, who lived in the time of Hadrian. Various derivations have been proposed for Fescennine. According to Festus, they were introduced from Fescennia in Etruria, but there is no reason to assume that any particular town was specially devoted to the use of such songs. As an alternative Festus suggests a connexion with fascinum, either because the Fescennina were regarded as a protection against evil influences (see Munro, Criticisms and Elucidations of Catullus, p. 76) or because fascinum (= phallus), as the symbol of fertility, would from early times have been naturally associated with harvest festivals. H. Nettleship, in an article on “The Earliest Italian Literature” (Journal of Philology, xi. 1882), in support of Munro’s view, translates the expression “verses used by charmers,” assuming a noun fescennus, connected with fas fari.

Fescennine Verses (Fescennina carmina), one of the earliest forms of Italian poetry, eventually evolved into the Satura and Roman comic drama. Originally performed during village harvest celebrations, these verses made their way into towns and became popular at religious festivals and private events—especially weddings, to which they were mostly limited in later times. They were usually in Saturnian meter and took the form of a dialogue, featuring back-and-forth banter. Participants wore masks made from tree bark. Initially harmless and light-hearted, albeit somewhat blunt, these songs eventually crossed the line into indecency; they included malicious jabs at both gods and people, leading to legal intervention that banned offensive characters as outlined in the Twelve Tables (Cicero, De re publica, iv. 10). Examples of Fescennines used at weddings include the Epithalamium of Manlius (Catullus, lxi. 122) and the four poems of Claudian celebrating the marriage of Honorius and Maria; the first is marked by a level of raunchiness not found in the latter. Ausonius mentions the Fescennines of Annianus Faliscus in his Cento nuptialis, who lived during Hadrian's time. Various origins have been suggested for Fescennine. According to Festus, they originated from Fescennia in Etruria, but there’s no strong evidence to suggest any specific town was solely known for these songs. Alternatively, Festus suggests a link to fascinum, either because the Fescennina were seen as protection against evil spirits (see Munro, Criticisms and Elucidations of Catullus, p. 76) or because fascinum (meaning phallus), as a symbol of fertility, would naturally be associated with harvest festivals from ancient times. H. Nettleship, in an article on “The Earliest Italian Literature” (Journal of Philology, xi. 1882), supports Munro’s view by translating the phrase “verses used by charmers,” assuming a noun fescennus, related to fas fari.

The locus classicus in ancient literature is Horace, Epistles, ii. 1. 139; see also Virgil, Georgics, ii. 385; Tibullus ii. 1. 55; E. Hoffmann, “Die Fescenninen,” in Rheinisches Museum, li. p. 320 (1896); art. Latin Literature.

The locus classicus in ancient literature is Horace, Epistles, ii. 1. 139; see also Virgil, Georgics, ii. 385; Tibullus ii. 1. 55; E. Hoffmann, “Die Fescenninen,” in Rheinisches Museum, li. p. 320 (1896); art. Latin Literature.


FESCH, JOSEPH (1763-1839), cardinal, was born at Ajaccio on the 3rd of January 1763. His father, a Swiss officer in the service of the Genoese Republic, had married the mother of Laetitia Bonaparte, after the decease of her first husband. Fesch therefore stood almost in the relation of an uncle to the young Bonapartes, and after the death of Lucien Bonaparte, archdeacon of Ajaccio, he became for a time the protector and patron of the family. In the year 1789, when the French Revolution broke out, he was archdeacon of Ajaccio, and, like the majority of the Corsicans, he felt repugnance for many of the acts of the French government during that period; in particular he protested against the application to Corsica of the act known as the “Civil Constitution of the Clergy” (July 1790). As provost of the “chapter” in that city he directly felt the pressure of events; for on the suppression of religious orders and corporations, he was constrained to retire into private life.

FESCH, JOSEPH (1763-1839), cardinal, was born in Ajaccio on January 3, 1763. His father, a Swiss officer serving the Genoese Republic, married the mother of Laetitia Bonaparte after her first husband passed away. Therefore, Fesch was almost like an uncle to the young Bonapartes, and after Lucien Bonaparte, the archdeacon of Ajaccio, died, he became the protector and patron of the family for a time. In 1789, when the French Revolution began, he was the archdeacon of Ajaccio and, like most Corsicans, he was opposed to many actions taken by the French government during that time; in particular, he protested against the implementation of the act known as the “Civil Constitution of the Clergy” (July 1790) in Corsica. As the provost of the “chapter” in that city, he felt the direct impact of these events; after the suppression of religious orders and organizations, he was forced to withdraw into private life.

Thereafter he shared the fortunes of the Bonaparte family in the intrigues and strifes which ensued. Drawn gradually by that family into espousing the French cause against Paoli and the Anglophiles, he was forced to leave Corsica and to proceed with Laetitia and her son to Toulon, in the early part of the autumn of 1793. Failing to find clerical duties at that time (the period of the Terror), he entered civil life, and served in various capacities, until on the appointment of Napoleon Bonaparte to the command of the French “Army of Italy” he became a commissary attached to that army. This part of his career is obscure and without importance. His fortunes rose rapidly on the attainment of the dignity of First Consul by his former charge, Napoleon, after the coup d’état of Brumaire (November 1799). Thereafter, when the restoration of the Roman Catholic religion was in the mind of the First Consul, Fesch resumed his clerical vocation and took an active part in the complex negotiations which led to the signing of the Concordat with the Holy See on the 15th of July 1801. His reward came in the prize of the archbishopric of Lyons, on the duties of which he entered in August 1802. Six months later he received a still more signal reward for his past services, being raised to the dignity of cardinal.

After that, he was involved in the fortunes of the Bonaparte family during the ensuing intrigues and conflicts. Gradually drawn by that family to support the French cause against Paoli and the Anglophiles, he had to leave Corsica and travel with Laetitia and her son to Toulon in early autumn 1793. Unable to find clerical work at that time (during the period of the Terror), he entered civilian life and worked in various roles until Napoleon Bonaparte was appointed to lead the French “Army of Italy,” at which point he became a commissary for that army. This part of his career is unclear and not particularly significant. His fortunes quickly improved after Napoleon, his former charge, became First Consul following the coup d’état of Brumaire (November 1799). Later, when the First Consul was focused on the restoration of the Roman Catholic religion, Fesch returned to his clerical duties and was actively involved in the complex negotiations that resulted in the signing of the Concordat with the Holy See on July 15, 1801. His reward came with the archbishopric of Lyons, which he began serving in August 1802. Six months later, he received an even greater recognition for his past services when he was elevated to the rank of cardinal.

In 1804 on the retirement of Cacault from the position of French ambassador at Rome, Fesch received that important appointment. He was assisted by Châteaubriand, but soon sharply differed with him on many questions. Towards the close of the year 1804 Napoleon entrusted to Fesch the difficult task of securing the presence of Pope Pius VII. at the forthcoming coronation of the emperor at Notre Dame, Paris (Dec. 2nd, 1804). His tact in overcoming the reluctance of the pope to be present at the coronation (it was only eight months after the execution of the duc d’Enghien) received further recognition. He received the grand cordon of the Legion of Honour, became grand-almoner of the empire and had a seat in the French senate. He was to receive further honours. In 1806 one of the most influential of the German clerics, Karl von Dalberg, then prince bishop of Regensburg, chose him to be his coadjutor and designated him as his successor.

In 1804, when Cacault retired from his role as the French ambassador in Rome, Fesch was appointed to that important position. He had the support of Châteaubriand, but they quickly disagreed on many issues. By the end of 1804, Napoleon assigned Fesch the challenging task of securing Pope Pius VII's presence at the upcoming coronation of the emperor at Notre Dame, Paris (Dec. 2nd, 1804). His skill in persuading the pope to attend the coronation (which was just eight months after the execution of the duc d’Enghien) was recognized with further accolades. He received the grand cordon of the Legion of Honour, became the grand-almoner of the empire, and gained a seat in the French senate. More honors were to come. In 1806, one of the most influential German clerics, Karl von Dalberg, who was the prince bishop of Regensburg at the time, chose him as his coadjutor and named him as his successor.

Events, however, now occurred which overclouded his prospects. In the course of the years 1806-1807 Napoleon came into sharp collision with the pope on various matters both political and religious. Fesch sought in vain to reconcile the two potentates. Napoleon was inexorable in his demands, and Pius VII. refused to give way where the discipline and 293 vital interests of the church seemed to be threatened. The emperor on several occasions sharply rebuked Fesch for what he thought to be weakness and ingratitude. It is clear, however, that the cardinal went as far as possible in counselling the submission of the spiritual to the civil power. For a time he was not on speaking terms with the pope; and Napoleon recalled him from Rome.

Events, however, soon took a turn that clouded his future. During the years 1806-1807, Napoleon clashed sharply with the pope over various political and religious issues. Fesch tried unsuccessfully to mediate between the two leaders. Napoleon was relentless in his demands, while Pius VII refused to compromise on matters that impacted the discipline and vital interests of the church. The emperor reprimanded Fesch several times for what he perceived as weakness and ingratitude. However, it’s clear that the cardinal did everything he could to advise the church to submit to civil authority. For a while, he and the pope weren’t on speaking terms, and Napoleon brought him back from Rome.

Affairs came to a crisis in the year 1809, when Napoleon issued at Vienna the decree of the 17th of May, ordering the annexation of the papal states to the French empire. In that year Napoleon conferred on Fesch the archbishopric of Paris, but he refused the honour. He, however, consented to take part in an ecclesiastical commission formed by the emperor from among the dignitaries of the Gallican Church, but in 1810 the commission was dissolved. The hopes of Fesch with respect to Regensburg were also damped by an arrangement of the year 1810 whereby Regensburg was absorbed in Bavaria.

Affairs reached a breaking point in 1809 when Napoleon issued the decree on May 17th in Vienna, ordering the annexation of the papal states to the French empire. That year, Napoleon offered Fesch the position of archbishop of Paris, but he declined the honor. However, he agreed to participate in an ecclesiastical commission created by the emperor from among the leaders of the Gallican Church, but the commission was dissolved in 1810. Fesch's hopes regarding Regensburg were also dampened by an arrangement in 1810 that led to Regensburg being incorporated into Bavaria.

In the year 1811 the emperor convoked a national council of Gallican clerics for the discussion of church affairs, and Fesch was appointed to preside over their deliberations. Here again, however, he failed to satisfy the inflexible emperor and was dismissed to his diocese. The friction between uncle and nephew became more acute in the following year. In June 1812, Pius VII. was brought from his first place of detention, Savona, to Fontainebleau, where he was kept under surveillance in the hope that he would give way in certain matters relating to the Concordat and in other clerical affairs. Fesch ventured to write to the aged pontiff a letter which came into the hands of the emperor. His anger against Fesch was such that he stopped the sum of 150,000 florins which had been accorded to him. The disasters of the years 1812-1813 brought Napoleon to treat Pius VII. with more lenity and the position of Fesch thus became for a time less difficult. On the first abdication of Napoleon (April 11th, 1814) and the restoration of the Bourbons, he, however, retired to Rome where he received a welcome. The events of the Hundred Days (March-June, 1815) brought him back to France; he resumed his archiepiscopal duties at Lyons and was further named a member of the senate. On the second abdication of the emperor (June 22nd, 1815) Fesch retired to Rome, where he spent the rest of his days in dignified ease, surrounded by numerous masterpieces of art, many of which he bequeathed to the city of Lyons. He died at Rome on the 13th of May 1839.

In 1811, the emperor called together a national council of Gallican clergy to discuss church matters, and Fesch was appointed to lead their discussions. However, he once again failed to meet the rigid expectations of the emperor and was sent back to his diocese. The tension between uncle and nephew intensified the following year. In June 1812, Pius VII was moved from his initial place of confinement, Savona, to Fontainebleau, where he was kept under close watch in hopes that he would yield on certain issues related to the Concordat and other church affairs. Fesch took the risk of writing a letter to the elderly pope, which fell into the emperor's hands. His fury at Fesch was so great that he stopped the payment of 150,000 florins that had been granted to him. The setbacks of 1812-1813 led Napoleon to treat Pius VII with more leniency, making Fesch's situation somewhat easier for a time. After Napoleon's first abdication on April 11, 1814, and the restoration of the Bourbons, he retired to Rome, where he was warmly welcomed. The events of the Hundred Days (March-June, 1815) brought him back to France; he resumed his archbishopic duties in Lyons and was also appointed a member of the senate. Following the emperor's second abdication on June 22, 1815, Fesch returned to Rome, where he spent the rest of his life in dignified comfort, surrounded by many masterpieces of art, a number of which he left to the city of Lyons. He passed away in Rome on May 13, 1839.

See J.B. Monseigneur Lyonnet, Le Cardinal Fesch (2 vols., Lyons, 1841); Ricard, Le Cardinal Fesch (Paris, 1893); H. Welschinger, Le Pape et l’empereur (Paris, 1905); F. Masson, Napoléon et sa famille (4 vols., Paris, 1897-1900).

See J.B. Monseigneur Lyonnet, Le Cardinal Fesch (2 vols., Lyons, 1841); Ricard, Le Cardinal Fesch (Paris, 1893); H. Welschinger, Le Pape et l’empereur (Paris, 1905); F. Masson, Napoléon et sa famille (4 vols., Paris, 1897-1900).


FESSA, a town and district of Persia in the province of Fars. The town is situated in a fertile plain in 29° N. and 90 m. from Shiraz, and has a population of about 5000. The district has forty villages and extends about 40 m. north-south from Runiz to Nassīrabad and 16 m. east-west from Vāsilabad to Deh Dasteh (Dastajah); it produces much grain, dates, tobacco, opium and good fruit.

FESSA is a town and district in Persia, located in the Fars province. The town lies in a fertile plain at 29° N and is 90 miles from Shiraz, with a population of around 5,000. The district includes forty villages and stretches about 40 miles north to south from Runiz to Nassīrabad and 16 miles east to west from Vāsilabad to Deh Dasteh (Dastajah); it produces a lot of grain, dates, tobacco, opium, and fresh fruit.


FESSENDEN, WILLIAM PITT (1806-1869), American statesman and financier, was born in Boscawen, New Hampshire, on the 16th of October 1806. After graduating at Bowdoin College in 1823, he studied law, and in 1827 was admitted to the bar, eventually settling in Portland, Maine, where for two years he was associated in practice with his father, Samuel Fessenden (1784-1869), a prominent lawyer and anti-slavery leader. In 1832 and in 1840 Fessenden was a representative in the Maine legislature, and in 1841-1843 was a Whig member of the national House of Representatives. When his term in this capacity was over, he devoted himself unremittingly and with great success to the law. He became well known, also, as an eloquent advocate of slavery restriction. In 1845-1846 and 1853-1854 he again served in the state House of Representatives, and in 1854 was chosen by the combined votes of Whigs and Anti-Slavery Democrats to the United States Senate. Within a fortnight after taking his seat he delivered a speech in opposition to the Kansas-Nebraska Bill, which at once made him a force in the congressional anti-slavery contest. From then on he was one of the most eloquent and frequent debaters among his colleagues, and in 1859, almost without opposition, he was re-elected to the Senate as a member of the Republican party, in the organization of which he had taken an influential part. He was a delegate in 1861 to the Peace Congress, but after the actual outbreak of hostilities he insisted that the war should be prosecuted vigorously. As chairman of the Senate Committee on Finance, his services were second in value only to those of President Lincoln and Secretary Salmon P. Chase in efforts to provide funds for the defence of the Union; and in July 1864 Fessenden succeeded Chase as secretary of the treasury. The finances of the country in the early summer of 1864 were in a critical condition; a few days before leaving office Secretary Chase had been compelled to withdraw from the market $32,000,000 of 6% bonds, on account of the lack of acceptable bids; gold had reached 285 and was fluctuating between 225 and 250, while the value of the paper dollar had sunk as low as 34 cents. It was Secretary Fessenden’s policy to avoid a further increase of the circulating medium, and to redeem or consolidate the temporary obligations outstanding. In spite of powerful pressure the paper currency was not increased a dollar during his tenure of the office. As the sales of bonds and treasury notes were not sufficient for the needs of the Treasury, interest-bearing certificates of indebtedness were issued to cover the deficits; but when these began to depreciate the secretary, following the example of his predecessors, engaged the services of the Philadelphia banker Jay Cooke (q.v.) and secured the consent of Congress to raise the balance of the $400,000,000 loan authorized on the 30th of June 1864 by the sale of the so-called “seven-thirty” treasury notes (i.e. notes bearing interest at 7.3% payable in currency in three years or convertible at the option of the holder into 6% 5-20 year gold bonds). Through Cooke’s activities the sales became enormous; the notes, issued in denominations as low as $50, appealed to the patriotic impulses of the people who could not subscribe for bonds of a higher denomination. In the spring of 1865 Congress authorized an additional loan of $600,000,000 to be raised in the same manner, and for the first time in four years the Treasury was able to meet all its obligations. After thus securing ample funds for the enormous expenditures of the war, Fessenden resigned the treasury portfolio in March 1865, and again took his seat in the Senate, serving till his death. In the Senate he again became chairman of the finance committee, and also of the joint committee on reconstruction. He was the author of the report of this last committee (1866), in which the Congressional plan of reconstruction was set forth and which has been considered a state paper of remarkable power and cogency. He was not, however, entirely in accord with the more radical members of his own party, and this difference was exemplified in his opposition to the impeachment of President Johnson and subsequently in his voting for Johnson’s acquittal. He bore with calmness the storm of reproach from his party associates which followed, and lived to regain the esteem of those who had attacked him. He died at Portland, Maine, on the 6th of September 1869.

FESSENDEN, WILLIAM PITT (1806-1869), American statesman and financier, was born in Boscawen, New Hampshire, on October 16, 1806. After graduating from Bowdoin College in 1823, he studied law, and in 1827 he was admitted to the bar, eventually settling in Portland, Maine, where he practiced law for two years alongside his father, Samuel Fessenden (1784-1869), a well-known lawyer and anti-slavery advocate. Fessenden served as a representative in the Maine legislature in 1832 and 1840, and was a Whig member of the national House of Representatives from 1841 to 1843. When his term ended, he focused intensely and successfully on his law practice. He also gained recognition as a passionate supporter of restricting slavery. In 1845-1846 and 1853-1854, he served again in the state House of Representatives, and in 1854, he was elected to the United States Senate by a coalition of Whigs and Anti-Slavery Democrats. Just two weeks after taking his seat, he gave a speech against the Kansas-Nebraska Bill, which immediately established him as a key figure in the congressional anti-slavery movement. From then on, he became one of the most articulate and active debaters among his peers, and in 1859, nearly without opposition, he was re-elected to the Senate as a Republican, a party he had played a significant role in forming. He was a delegate to the Peace Congress in 1861, but once the war began, he strongly advocated for vigorous military action. As chairman of the Senate Committee on Finance, he was second only to President Lincoln and Secretary Salmon P. Chase in his efforts to secure funding for the Union's defense; in July 1864, Fessenden succeeded Chase as Secretary of the Treasury. The nation's finances were critical in the early summer of 1864; shortly before leaving office, Secretary Chase had to remove $32,000,000 of 6% bonds from the market due to lack of acceptable bids; gold prices had reached 285 and fluctuated between 225 and 250, while the value of paper currency had dropped to as low as 34 cents. Secretary Fessenden's policy was to avoid increasing the money supply further and to redeem or consolidate existing temporary obligations. Despite significant pressure, the amount of paper currency was not increased during his time in office. Since the selling of bonds and treasury notes did not suffice for the Treasury's needs, interest-bearing certificates of debt were issued to cover the shortfall; but as these began to lose value, the secretary, following his predecessors' examples, enlisted the help of Philadelphia banker Jay Cooke (q.v.) and obtained Congressional approval to raise the remainder of the $400,000,000 loan authorized on June 30, 1864, through the sale of the so-called “seven-thirty” treasury notes (i.e. notes with 7.3% interest, payable in currency in three years, or convertible by the holder into 6% 5-20 year gold bonds). Thanks to Cooke's efforts, sales surged; the notes, available in denominations as low as $50, appealed to patriotic feelings of people who couldn't afford higher-denomination bonds. In the spring of 1865, Congress authorized an additional $600,000,000 loan to be raised in the same way, and for the first time in four years, the Treasury could meet all its obligations. After obtaining sufficient funds for the war's massive expenditures, Fessenden resigned from the treasury role in March 1865 and returned to the Senate, where he continued to serve until his death. In the Senate, he resumed his role as chairman of the finance committee, as well as chairman of the joint committee on reconstruction. He authored the report of this last committee (1866), which laid out the Congressional plan for reconstruction and is considered a remarkably powerful and persuasive state paper. However, he did not completely align with the more radical members of his party, exemplified by his opposition to President Johnson's impeachment and his subsequent vote for Johnson’s acquittal. He calmly faced backlash from his party colleagues in the aftermath, but he eventually regained their respect. He passed away in Portland, Maine, on September 6, 1869.

See Francis Fessenden, Life and Public Services of William Pitt Fessenden (2 vols., Boston, 1907).

See Francis Fessenden, Life and Public Services of William Pitt Fessenden (2 vols., Boston, 1907).


FESSLER, IGNAZ AURELIUS (1756-1839), Hungarian ecclesiastic, historian and freemason, was born on the 18th of May 1756 at the village of Zurány in the county of Moson. In 1773 he joined the order of Capuchins, and in 1779 was ordained priest. He had meanwhile continued his classical and philological studies, and his liberal views brought him into frequent conflict with his superiors. In 1784, while at the monastery of Mödling, near Vienna, he wrote to the emperor Joseph II., making suggestions for the better education of the clergy and drawing his attention to the irregularities of the monasteries. The searching investigation which followed raised up against him many implacable enemies. In 1784 he was appointed professor of Oriental languages and hermeneutics in the university of Lemberg, when he took the degree of doctor 294 of divinity; and shortly afterwards he was released from his monastic vows on the intervention of the emperor. In 1788 he brought out his tragedy of Sidney, an exposé of the tyranny of James II. and of the fanaticism of the papists in England. This was attacked so violently as profane and revolutionary that he was compelled to resign his office and seek refuge in Silesia. In Breslau he met with a cordial reception from G.W. Korn the publisher, and was, moreover, subsequently employed by the prince of Carolath-Schönaich as tutor to his sons. In 1791 Fessler was converted to Lutheranism and next year contracted an unhappy marriage, which was dissolved in 1802, when he married again. In 1796 he went to Berlin, where he founded a humanitarian society, and was commissioned by the freemasons of that city to assist Fichte in reforming the statutes and ritual of their lodge. He soon after this obtained a government appointment in connexion with the newly-acquired Polish provinces, but in consequence of the battle of Jena (1806) he lost this office, and remained in very needy circumstances until 1809, when he was summoned to St Petersburg by Alexander I., to fill the post of court councillor, and the professorship of oriental languages and philosophy at the Alexander-Nevski Academy. This office, however, he was soon obliged to resign, owing to his alleged atheistic tendencies, but he was subsequently nominated a member of the legislative commission. In 1815 he went with his family to Sarepta, where he joined the Moravian community and again became strongly orthodox. This cost him the loss of his salary, but it was restored to him in 1817. In November 1820 he was appointed consistorial president of the evangelical communities at Saratov and subsequently became chief superintendent of the Lutheran communities in St Petersburg. Fessler’s numerous works are all written in German. In recognition of his important services to Hungary as a historian, he was in 1831 elected a corresponding member of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences. He died at St Petersburg on the 15th of December 1839.

Fessler, Ignaz Aurelius (1756-1839), was a Hungarian cleric, historian, and freemason, born on May 18, 1756, in the village of Zurány in Moson County. In 1773, he joined the Capuchin order and became a priest in 1779. He continued his studies in classical languages and philology, but his progressive views often put him at odds with his superiors. In 1784, while at the monastery in Mödling, near Vienna, he wrote to Emperor Joseph II, suggesting improvements for the education of the clergy and highlighting issues in the monasteries. This inquiry led to many powerful enemies. That same year, he was appointed professor of Oriental languages and hermeneutics at the University of Lemberg, earning a doctorate in divinity shortly after. Soon after, he was released from his monastic vows at the emperor's request. In 1788, he published his tragedy Sidney, which criticized the tyranny of James II and the zealotry of papists in England. The play faced severe backlash as it was deemed profane and revolutionary, forcing him to resign and take refuge in Silesia. In Breslau, he was warmly welcomed by publisher G.W. Korn and later became a tutor to the sons of Prince Carolath-Schönaich. In 1791, Fessler converted to Lutheranism, and the following year he entered a troubled marriage that ended in divorce in 1802, after which he remarried. In 1796, he moved to Berlin, where he established a humanitarian society and worked with the freemasons to help Fichte reform their lodge's statutes and rituals. He later received a government position related to the newly acquired Polish territories, but he lost this job after the Battle of Jena in 1806 and struggled financially until 1809, when he was called to St. Petersburg by Alexander I to serve as a court councillor and professor of oriental languages and philosophy at the Alexander-Nevski Academy. However, he soon had to resign due to accusations of atheism, though he was later appointed to the legislative commission. In 1815, he moved with his family to Sarepta, where he joined the Moravian community and returned to orthodox beliefs, which cost him his salary, though it was reinstated in 1817. In November 1820, he was made consistorial president of the evangelical communities in Saratov and later became the chief superintendent of Lutheran communities in St. Petersburg. All of Fessler’s numerous works were written in German. In recognition of his significant contributions to Hungarian history, he was elected a corresponding member of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences in 1831. He passed away in St. Petersburg on December 15, 1839.

Fessler was a voluminous writer, and during his life exercised great influence; but, with the possible exception of the history of Hungary, none of his books has any value now. He did not pretend to any critical treatment of his materials, and most of his historical works are practically historical novels. He did much, however, to make the study of history popular. His most important works are—Die Geschichten der Ungarn und ihrer Landsassen (10 vols. Leipzig, 1815-1825); Marcus Aurelius (3 vols., Breslau, 1790-1792; 3rd edition, 4 vols., 1799); Aristides und Themistokles (2 vols., Berlin, 1792; 3rd edition, 1818); Attila, König der Hunnen (Breslau, 1794); Mathias Corvinus (2 vols., Breslau, 1793-1794); and Die drei grossen Könige der Hungarn aus dem Arpadischen Stamme (Breslau, 1808).

Fessler was a prolific writer, and during his lifetime, he had a significant impact. However, aside from his history of Hungary, none of his books hold much value today. He didn’t claim to have a critical approach to his sources, and most of his historical works are essentially historical novels. Nonetheless, he contributed a lot to making the study of history popular. His most important works are—Die Geschichten der Ungarn und ihrer Landsassen (10 vols. Leipzig, 1815-1825); Marcus Aurelius (3 vols., Breslau, 1790-1792; 3rd edition, 4 vols., 1799); Aristides und Themistokles (2 vols., Berlin, 1792; 3rd edition, 1818); Attila, König der Hunnen (Breslau, 1794); Mathias Corvinus (2 vols., Breslau, 1793-1794); and Die drei grossen Könige der Hungarn aus dem Arpadischen Stamme (Breslau, 1808).

See Fessler’s Rückblicke auf seine siebzigjährige Pilgerschaft (Breslau, 1824; 2nd edition, Leipzig, 1851).

See Fessler’s Reflections on His Seventy-Year Pilgrimage (Breslau, 1824; 2nd edition, Leipzig, 1851).


FESTA, CONSTANZO (c. 1495-1545), Italian singer and musical composer, became a member of the Pontifical choir in Rome in 1517, and soon afterwards maestro at the Vatican. His motets and madrigals (the first book of which appeared in 1537) excited Dr Burney’s warm praise in his History of Music; and, among other church music, his Te Deum (published in 1596) is still sung at important services in Rome. His madrigal, called in English “Down in a flow’ry vale,” is well known.

FESTA, CONSTANZO (c. 1495-1545), an Italian singer and music composer, joined the Pontifical choir in Rome in 1517, and shortly after became the maestro at the Vatican. His motets and madrigals (the first book of which was released in 1537) received high praise from Dr. Burney in his History of Music; and, among his other church music, his Te Deum (published in 1596) is still performed during important services in Rome. His madrigal, known in English as “Down in a flow’ry vale,” is quite famous.


FESTINIOG (or Ffestiniog), a town of Merionethshire, North Wales, at the head of the Festiniog valley, 600 ft. above the sea, in the midst of rugged scenery, near the stream Dwyryd, 31 m. from Conway. Pop. of urban district (1901), 11,435. There are many large slate quarries in this parish, especially at Blaenau Festiniog, the junction of three railways, London & North Western, Great Western and Festiniog, a narrow-gauge line between Portmadoc and Duffws. This light railway runs at a considerable elevation (some 700 ft.), commanding a view across the valley and lake of Tan y Bwlch. Lord Lyttelton’s letter to Mr Bower is a well-known panegyric on Festiniog. Thousands of workmen are employed in the slate quarries. The Cynfael falls are famous. Near are Beddau gwyr Ardudwy (the graves of the men of Ardudwy), memorials of a fight to recover women of the Clwyd valley from the men of Ardudwy. Near, too, is a rock named “Hugh Lloyd’s pulpit” (Lloyd lived in the time of Charles I., Cromwell and Charles II.).

FESTINIOG (or Ffestiniog), a town in Merionethshire, North Wales, located at the top of the Festiniog valley, 600 ft. above sea level, surrounded by rugged landscape, near the Dwyryd stream, 31 miles from Conway. The population of the urban district was 11,435 in 1901. There are many large slate quarries in this area, particularly at Blaenau Festiniog, which is where three railways meet: the London & North Western, Great Western, and Festiniog, a narrow-gauge line running between Portmadoc and Duffws. This light railway operates at a significant elevation (around 700 ft.), offering views over the valley and Lake Tan y Bwlch. Lord Lyttelton’s letter to Mr. Bower is a famous praise of Festiniog. Thousands of workers are employed in the slate quarries. The Cynfael falls are well-known. Nearby are Beddau gwyr Ardudwy (the graves of the men of Ardudwy), which commemorate a battle to rescue women from the Clwyd valley taken by the men of Ardudwy. Close by is a rock called “Hugh Lloyd’s pulpit” (Lloyd lived during the time of Charles I, Cromwell, and Charles II).


FESTOON (from Fr. feston, Ital. festone, from a Late Lat. festo, originally a “festal garland,” Lat. festum, feast), a wreath or garland, and so in architecture a conventional arrangement of flowers, foliage or fruit bound together and suspended by ribbons, either from a decorated knot, or held in the mouths of lions, or suspended across the back of bulls’ heads as in the Temple of Vesta at Tivoli. The “motif” is sometimes known as a “swag.” It was largely employed both by the Greeks and Romans and formed the principal decoration of altars, friezes and panels. The ends of the ribbons are sometimes formed into bows or twisted curves; when in addition a group of foliage or flowers is suspended it is called a “drop.” Its origin is probably due to the representation in stone of the garlands of natural flowers, &c., which were hung up over an entrance doorway on fête days, or suspended round the altar.

FESTOON (from Fr. feston, Ital. festone, from a Late Lat. festo, originally a “festive garland,” Lat. festum, feast), is a wreath or garland, and in architecture, it refers to a traditional arrangement of flowers, leaves, or fruit tied together and hung by ribbons, either from a decorated knot, held in the mouths of lions, or draped across the backs of bulls’ heads as seen in the Temple of Vesta at Tivoli. This design is sometimes called a “swag.” It was widely used by both the Greeks and Romans and was the main decoration for altars, friezes, and panels. The ends of the ribbons are sometimes shaped into bows or twisted curves; when a cluster of leaves or flowers is added, it is called a “drop.” Its origin likely comes from the depiction in stone of the garlands of natural flowers, etc., which were hung up over entrance doorways on celebration days, or draped around the altar.


FESTUS (? Rufus or Rufius), one of the Roman writers of breviaria (epitomes of Roman history). The reference to the defeat of the Goths at Noviodunum (A.D. 369) by the emperor Valens, and the fact that the author is unaware of the constitution of Valentia as a province (which took place in the same year) are sufficient indication to fix the date of composition. Mommsen identifies the author with Rufius Festus, proconsul of Achaea (366), and both with Rufius Festus Avienus (q.v.), the translator of Aratus. But the absence of the name Rufius in the best MSS. is against this. Others take him to be Festus of Tridentum, magister memoriae (secretary) to Valens and proconsul of Asia, where he was sent to punish those implicated in the conspiracy of Theodorus, a commission which he executed with such merciless severity that his name became a byword. The work itself (Breviarium rerum gestarum populi Romani) is divided into two parts—one geographical, the other historical. The chief authorities used are Livy, Eutropius and Florus. It is extremely meagre, but the fact that the last part is based on the writer’s personal recollections makes it of some value for the history of the 4th century.

FESTUS (? Rufus or Rufius), one of the Roman writers of breviaria (summaries of Roman history). The mention of the Goths' defeat at Noviodunum (CE 369) by Emperor Valens, and the fact that the author doesn’t recognize the establishment of Valentia as a province (which happened in the same year) are clear signs that help determine when it was written. Mommsen links the author to Rufius Festus, proconsul of Achaea (366), and also to Rufius Festus Avienus (q.v.), the translator of Aratus. However, the absence of the name Rufius in the best manuscripts argues against this. Others believe he is Festus of Tridentum, magister memoriae (secretary) to Valens and proconsul of Asia, where he was tasked with punishing those involved in Theodorus's conspiracy, a job he handled with such ruthless severity that his name became synonymous with cruelty. The work itself (Breviarium rerum gestarum populi Romani) is split into two sections—one geographical and the other historical. The main sources used are Livy, Eutropius, and Florus. It is very sparse, but since the last part is based on the writer’s personal memories, it holds some value for 4th-century history.

Editions by W. Förster (Vienna, 1873) and C. Wagener (Prague, 1886); see also R. Jacobi, De Festi breviarii fontibus (Bonn, 1874), and H. Peter, Die geschichtliche Litt. über die römische Kaiserzeit ii. p. 133 (1897), where the epitomes of Festus, Aurelius Victor and Eutropius are compared.

Editions by W. Förster (Vienna, 1873) and C. Wagener (Prague, 1886); see also R. Jacobi, De Festi breviarii fontibus (Bonn, 1874), and H. Peter, Die geschichtliche Litt. über die römische Kaiserzeit ii. p. 133 (1897), where the summaries of Festus, Aurelius Victor, and Eutropius are compared.


FESTUS, SEXTUS POMPEIUS, Roman grammarian, probably flourished in the 2nd century A.D. He made an epitome of the celebrated work De verborum significatu, a valuable treatise alphabetically arranged, written by M. Verrius Flaccus, a freedman and celebrated grammarian who flourished in the reign of Augustus. Festus gives the etymology as well as the meaning of every word; and his work throws considerable light on the language, mythology and antiquities of ancient Rome. He made a few alterations, and inserted some critical remarks of his own. He also omitted such ancient Latin words as had long been obsolete; these he discussed in a separate work now lost, entitled Priscorum verborum cum exemplis. Of Flaccus’s work only a few fragments remain, and of Festus’s epitome only one original copy is in existence. This MS., the Codex Festi Farnesianus at Naples, only contains the second half of the work (M-V) and that not in a perfect condition. It has been published in facsimile by Thewrewk de Ponor (1890). At the close of the 8th century Paulus Diaconus abridged the abridgment. From his work and the solitary copy of the original attempts have been made with the aid of conjecture to reconstruct the treatise of Festus.

FESTUS, SEXTUS POMPEIUS, was a Roman grammarian who likely thrived in the 2nd century A.D. He created a summary of the well-known work De verborum significatu, an important treatise organized alphabetically, written by M. Verrius Flaccus, a freedman and notable grammarian during Augustus's reign. Festus provides the origin and meaning of each word, and his work offers significant insights into the language, mythology, and history of ancient Rome. He made some changes and added his own critical observations. He also left out ancient Latin words that had long become obsolete; he discussed these in a separate now-lost work titled Priscorum verborum cum exemplis. Only a few fragments of Flaccus’s work survive, and only one original copy of Festus’s summary exists. This manuscript, the Codex Festi Farnesianus in Naples, contains just the second half of the work (M-V) and is not in perfect condition. It was published in facsimile by Thewrewk de Ponor (1890). At the end of the 8th century, Paulus Diaconus shortened the abridged version. Using his work and the lone copy of the original, attempts have been made to reconstruct Festus's treatise through conjecture.

Of the early editions the best are those of J. Scaliger (1565) and Fulvius Ursinus (1581); in modern times, those of C.O. Müller (1839, reprinted 1880) and de Ponor (1889); see J.E. Sandys, History of Classical Scholarship, vol. i. (1906).

Of the early editions, the best are those by J. Scaliger (1565) and Fulvius Ursinus (1581); in more recent times, those by C.O. Müller (1839, reprinted 1880) and de Ponor (1889); see J.E. Sandys, History of Classical Scholarship, vol. i. (1906).


FÉTIS, FRANÇOIS JOSEPH (1784-1871), Belgian composer and writer on music, was born at Mons in Belgium on the 25th of March 1784, and was trained as a musician by his father, who followed the same calling. His talent for composition manifested 295 itself at the age of seven, and at nine years old he was an organist at Sainte-Waudru. In 1800 he went to Paris and completed his studies at the conservatoire under such masters as Boieldieu, Rey and Pradher. In 1806 he undertook the revision of the Roman liturgical chants in the hope of discovering and establishing their original form. In this year he married the granddaughter of the Chevalier de Kéralio, and also began his Biographie universelle des musiciens, the most important of his works, which did not appear until 1834. In 1821 he was appointed professor at the conservatoire. In 1827 he founded the Revue musicale, the first serious paper in France devoted exclusively to musical matters. Fétis remained in the French capital till in 1833, at the request of Leopold I., he became director of the conservatoire of Brussels and the king’s chapel-master. He also was the founder, and, till his death, the conductor of the celebrated concerts attached to the conservatoire of Brussels, and he inaugurated a free series of lectures on musical history and philosophy. He produced a large quantity of original compositions, from the opera and the oratorio down to the simple chanson. But all these are doomed to oblivion. Although not without traces of scholarship and technical ability, they show total absence of genius. More important are his writings on music. They are partly historical, such as the Curiosités historiques de la musique (Paris, 1850), and the Histoire universelle de musique (Paris, 1869-1876); partly theoretical, such as the Méthode des méthodes de piano (Paris, 1837), written in conjunction with Moscheles. Fétis died at Brussels on the 26th of March 1871. His valuable library was purchased by the Belgian government and presented to the Brussels conservatoire. His work as a musical historian was prodigious in quantity, and, in spite of many inaccuracies and some prejudice revealed in it, there can be no question as to its value for the student.

Fétis, François Joseph (1784-1871), was a Belgian composer and music writer born in Mons, Belgium on March 25, 1784. He learned music from his father, who was also a musician. He showed a talent for composition at the age of seven, and by nine, he was an organist at Sainte-Waudru. In 1800, he moved to Paris to continue his studies at the conservatoire under masters like Boieldieu, Rey, and Pradher. In 1806, he began revising Roman liturgical chants, looking to discover and restore their original form. That same year, he married the granddaughter of Chevalier de Kéralio and started working on his most significant piece, the Biographie universelle des musiciens, which was not published until 1834. In 1821, he was appointed a professor at the conservatoire, and in 1827, he launched the Revue musicale, the first serious magazine in France focused entirely on music. Fétis stayed in Paris until 1833 when he became the director of the Brussels conservatoire and the king’s chapel-master at the request of Leopold I. He also founded the famous concerts associated with the Brussels conservatoire and started a free series of lectures on music history and philosophy. He composed a wide range of original works, from operas and oratorios to simple chansons, but they are likely to be forgotten. While his compositions exhibit some scholarship and technical skill, they lack true genius. His writings on music are more significant, including historical works like the Curiosités historiques de la musique (Paris, 1850) and the Histoire universelle de musique (Paris, 1869-1876), as well as theoretical ones like the Méthode des méthodes de piano (Paris, 1837), co-written with Moscheles. Fétis passed away in Brussels on March 26, 1871. His valuable library was bought by the Belgian government and donated to the Brussels conservatoire. His work as a musical historian was vast, and although it contains many inaccuracies and some biases, its value remains undeniable for students and researchers.


FETISHISM, an ill-defined term, used in many different senses: (a) the worship of inanimate objects, often regarded as peculiarly African; (b) negro religion in general; (c) the worship of inanimate objects conceived as the residence of spirits not inseparably bound up with, nor originally connected with, such objects; (d) the doctrine of spirits embodied in, or attached to, or conveying influence through, certain material objects (Tylor); (e) the use of charms, which are not worshipped, but derive their magical power from a god or spirit; (f) the use as charms of objects regarded as magically potent in themselves. A further extension is given by some writers, who use the term as synonymous with the religions of primitive peoples, including under it not only the worship of inanimate objects, such as the sun, moon or stars, but even such phases of primitive philosophy as totemism. Comte applied the term to denominate the view of nature more commonly termed animism.

Fetishism, is a vague term used in various ways: (a) the worship of inanimate objects, often thought to be specifically African; (b) general practices of African religions; (c) the worship of inanimate objects believed to house spirits that aren’t necessarily linked to those objects; (d) the belief in spirits that are embodied in, attached to, or hold power through certain material objects (Tylor); (e) the use of charms that aren’t worshipped but gain their magical power from a god or spirit; (f) the use of objects considered to have innate magical properties as charms. Some writers broaden the term to encompass the religions of primitive peoples, including not just the worship of inanimate objects like the sun, moon, or stars, but also aspects of primitive philosophy such as totemism. Comte used the term to refer to what is more commonly known as animism.

Derivation.—The word fetish (or fetich) was first used in connexion with Africa by the Portuguese discoverers of the last half of the 15th century; relics of saints, rosaries and images were then abundant all over Europe and were regarded as possessing magical virtue; they were termed by the Portuguese feiticos (i.e. charms). Early voyagers to West Africa applied this term to the wooden figures, stones, &c., regarded as the temporary residence of gods or spirits, and to charms. There is no reason to suppose that the word feitico was applied either to an animal or to the local spirit of a river, hill or forest. Feitico is sometimes interpreted to mean artificial, made by man, but the original sense is more probably “magically active or artful.” The word was probably brought into general use by C. de Brosses, author of Du culte des dieux fétiches (1760), but it is frequently used by W. Bosman in his Description of Guinea (1705), in the sense of “the false god, Bossum” or “Bohsum,” properly a tutelary deity of an individual.

Derivation.—The word fetish (or fetich) was first used in connection with Africa by the Portuguese explorers of the late 15th century; relics of saints, rosaries, and images were then plentiful all over Europe and were considered to have magical powers; they were called by the Portuguese feiticos (i.e. charms). Early travelers to West Africa applied this term to wooden figures, stones, etc., viewed as the temporary homes of gods or spirits, and to charms. There is no reason to think that the word feitico was applied to either an animal or to the local spirit of a river, hill, or forest. Feitico is sometimes interpreted to mean artificial, made by humans, but the original meaning is more likely “magically active or skillful.” The word was probably popularized by C. de Brosses, author of Du culte des dieux fétiches (1760), but it is frequently used by W. Bosman in his Description of Guinea (1705), in the sense of “the false god, Bossum” or “Bohsum,” which is properly a protective deity of an individual.

Definition.—The term fetish is commonly understood to mean the worship of or respect for material, inanimate objects, conceived as magically active from a virtue inherent in them, temporarily or permanently, which does not arise from the fact that a god or spirit is believed to reside in them or communicate virtue to them. Taken in this sense fetishism is probably a mark of decadence. There is no evidence of any such belief in Africa or elsewhere among primitive peoples. It is only after a certain grade of culture has been attained that the belief in luck appears; the fetish is essentially a mascot or object carried for luck.

Definition.—The term fetish is generally understood as the admiration or reverence for physical, inanimate objects, seen as magically powerful due to an inherent quality within them, either temporarily or permanently, which is not based on the idea that a god or spirit lives in them or grants them power. Viewed this way, fetishism is likely a sign of decline. There’s no evidence of such beliefs in Africa or among other primitive cultures. It's only after reaching a certain level of culture that the idea of luck emerges; the fetish is fundamentally a good luck charm or object that is kept for fortune.

Ordinary Usage.—In the sense in which Dr Tylor uses the term the fetish is (1) a “god-house” or (2) a charm derived from a tutelary deity or spirit, and magically active in virtue of its association with such deity or spirit. In the first of these senses the word is applied to objects ranging from the unworked stone to the pot or the wooden figure, and is thus hardly distinguishable from idolatry. (a) The bohsum or tutelary deity of a particular section of the community is derived from the local gods through the priests by the performance of a certain series of rites. The priest indicates into what object the bohsum will enter and proceeds to the abode of the local god to procure the object in question. After making an offering the object is carried to an appropriate spot and a “fetish” tree set up as a shade for it, which is sacred so long as the bohsum remains beneath it. The fall of the tree is believed to mark the departure of the spirit. A bohsum may also be procured through a dream; but in this case, too, it is necessary to apply to the priest to decide whether the dream was veridical. (b) The suhman or tutelary deity of an individual is not an object selected at random to be the residence of the spirit. It is only procurable at the residence of a Sasabonsum, a malicious non-human being. Various ceremonies are performed, and a spirit connected with the Sasabonsum is finally asked to enter an object. This is then kept for three days; if no good fortune results it is concluded either that the spirit did not enter the object selected, or that it is disinclined to extend its protection. In either case the ceremonies must be commenced afresh. Otherwise offerings and even human sacrifices in exceptional cases are made to the suhman. It is commonly believed that the negro claims the power of coercing his tutelary deity. This is denied by Colonel Ellis. It is certain that coercion of deities is not unknown, but further evidence is required that the negro uses it when his deity is refractory.

Ordinary Usage.—In the way Dr. Tylor defines the term, a fetish is (1) a "god-house" or (2) a charm that comes from a protective deity or spirit, which is magically active because of its connection to that deity or spirit. In the first sense, the word is used for objects that range from unshaped stones to pots or wooden figures, making it almost indistinguishable from idolatry. (a) The bohsum, or protective deity of a specific community group, comes from local gods through priests who perform a series of rituals. The priest identifies the object that the bohsum will inhabit and goes to the local god's dwelling to obtain it. After making an offering, the object is taken to a suitable location and a “fetish” tree is planted as a shelter for it, remaining sacred as long as the bohsum stays beneath it. If the tree falls, it is thought to signal the spirit's departure. A bohsum can also be obtained through a dream, but in this case, the priest must confirm whether the dream was genuine. (b) The suhman, or protective deity of an individual, is not just a randomly chosen object for the spirit to reside in. It can only be obtained at the home of a Sasabonsum, a malevolent non-human entity. Various rituals are performed, and a spirit associated with the Sasabonsum is finally invited to enter an object. This object is kept for three days; if there’s no good fortune, it is determined that either the spirit did not enter the chosen object or it is unwilling to provide protection. In either situation, the rituals must be started over again. Otherwise, offerings and even human sacrifices in rare cases are made to the suhman. It is widely believed that the individual can compel their protective deity. Colonel Ellis disputes this. While it’s clear that the coercion of deities is a known practice, more evidence is needed to show that individuals use it when their deity is uncooperative.

The suhman can, it is believed, communicate a part of his powers to various objects in which he does not dwell; these are also termed suhman by the natives and may have given rise to the belief that the practices commonly termed fetishism are not animistic. These charms are many in number; offerings of food and drink are made, i.e. to the portion of the power of the suhman which resides in them. These charms can only be made by the possessor of the suhman.

The suhman is believed to be able to communicate parts of its powers to various objects that it doesn’t inhabit; these are also called suhman by the locals and may have led to the idea that practices usually referred to as fetishism aren't purely animistic. There are many of these charms; offerings of food and drink are made, i.e. to the part of the power of the suhman that exists within them. Only the owner of the suhman can create these charms.

On the Guinea Coast the spirit implanted in the object is usually, if not invariably, non-human. Farther south on the Congo the “fetish” is inhabited by human souls also. The priest goes into the forest and cuts an image; when a party enters a wood for this purpose they may not mention the name of any living being unless they wish him to die and his soul to enter the fetish. The right person having been selected, his name is mentioned; and he is believed to die within ten days, his soul passing into the nkissi. It is into these figures that the nails are driven, in order to procure the vengeance of the indwelling spirit on some enemy.

On the Guinea Coast, the spirit embedded in the object is usually, if not always, non-human. Further south on the Congo, the “fetish” can also contain human souls. The priest goes into the forest and carves a figure; when a group enters the woods for this purpose, they cannot mention the name of any living being unless they want that person to die and their soul to enter the fetish. Once the right person is chosen, their name is mentioned, and it's believed they will die within ten days, with their soul moving into the nkissi. It is into these figures that nails are driven to summon the revenge of the spirit within against an enemy.

In many cases the fetish spirit is believed to leave the “god-house” and pass for the time being into the body of the priest, who manifests the phenomena of possession (q.v.). It is a common error to suppose that the whole of African religion is embraced in the practices connected with these tutelary deities; so far from this being the case, belief in higher gods, not necessarily accompanied with worship or propitiation, is common in many parts of Africa, and there is no reason to suppose that it had been derived in every case, perhaps not in any case, from Christian or Mahommedan missionaries.

In many cases, it's believed that the fetish spirit leaves the “god-house” and temporarily enters the priest’s body, who then shows signs of possession (q.v.). It’s a common misconception to think that all of African religion revolves around the practices related to these guardian deities; in reality, belief in higher gods, which doesn’t always involve worship or offerings, is widespread in many parts of Africa. There’s no reason to assume that this belief came solely from Christian or Muslim missionaries, and it’s possible that it didn’t come from them at all.

See A.B. Ellis, Tshi-speaking Peoples, chs. vii., viii. and xii.; Waitz, Anthropologie der Naturvölker, ii. 174; R.E. Dennett in Folklore, vol. xvi.; R.H. Nassau, Fetichism in West Africa (1904); also Tylor, Primitive Culture, ii. 143, and M.H. Kingsley, West African Studies (2nd ed., 1901), where the term is used in a more extended sense.

See A.B. Ellis, Tshi-speaking Peoples, chs. vii., viii. and xii.; Waitz, Anthropologie der Naturvölker, ii. 174; R.E. Dennett in Folklore, vol. xvi.; R.H. Nassau, Fetichism in West Africa (1904); also Tylor, Primitive Culture, ii. 143, and M.H. Kingsley, West African Studies (2nd ed., 1901), where the term is used in a more extended sense.

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FETTERCAIRN, a burgh of barony of Kincardineshire, Scotland, 4½ m. N.W. of Laurencekirk. Pop. of parish (1901) 1390. The chief structures include a public hall, library and reading-room, and the arch built to commemorate the visit of Queen Victoria in 1861. The most interesting relic, however, is the market cross, which originally belonged to the extinct town of Kincardine. To the S.W. is Balbegno Castle, dating from 1509, and planned on a scale that threatened to ruin its projector. It contains a lofty hall of fine proportions. Two miles N. is Fasque, the estate of the Gladstones, which was acquired in 1831 by Sir John Gladstone (1764-1851), the father of W.E. Gladstone. The castle, which stands in beautiful grounds, was built in 1809. Sir John Gladstone’s tomb is in the Episcopal church of St Andrew, which he erected and endowed. In the immediate vicinity are the ruins of the royal castle of Kincardine, where, according to tradition, Kenneth III. was assassinated in 1005, although he is more generally said to have been slain in battle at Monzievaird, near Crieff in Perthshire.

Fettercairn, is a small town in Kincardineshire, Scotland, located 4½ miles northwest of Laurencekirk. The population of the parish in 1901 was 1,390. Key buildings include a public hall, a library, a reading room, and an arch that was built to celebrate Queen Victoria's visit in 1861. The most notable historical site is the market cross, which originally belonged to the now-defunct town of Kincardine. To the southwest, you'll find Balbegno Castle, which dates back to 1509 and was designed on a scale that could have led to financial ruin for its builder. It features a tall hall with impressive proportions. Two miles to the north is Fasque, the estate of the Gladstone family, which was purchased in 1831 by Sir John Gladstone (1764-1851), the father of W.E. Gladstone. The castle, set in beautiful grounds, was constructed in 1809. Sir John Gladstone's tomb is located in the Episcopal church of St. Andrew, which he built and funded. Nearby are the ruins of the royal castle of Kincardine, where, according to tradition, Kenneth III was assassinated in 1005, although it’s more commonly believed that he was killed in battle at Monzievaird, near Crieff in Perthshire.


FETTERS AND HANDCUFFS, instruments for securing the feet and hands of prisoners under arrest, or as a means of punishment. The old names were manacles, shackbolts or shackles, gyves and swivels. Until within recent times handcuffs were of two kinds, the figure-8 ones which confined the hands close together either in front or behind the prisoner, or the rings from the wrists were connected by a short chain much on the model of the handcuffs in use by the police forces of to-day. Much improvement has been made in handcuffs of late. They are much lighter and they are adjustable, fitting any wrist, and thus the one pair will serve a police officer for any prisoner. For the removal of gangs of convicts an arrangement of handcuffs connected by a light chain is used, the chain running through a ring on each fetter and made fast at both ends by what are known as end-locks. Several recently invented appliances are used as handcuffs, e.g. snaps, nippers, twisters. They differ from handcuffs in being intended for one wrist only, the other portion being held by the captor. In the snap the smaller circlet is snapped to on the prisoner’s wrist. The nippers can be instantly fastened on the wrist. The twister, not now used in England as being liable to injure prisoners seriously, is a chain attached to two handles; the chain is put round the wrist and the two handles twisted till the chain is tight enough.

Fetters and handcuffs, tools for securing the feet and hands of arrested individuals, or as a form of punishment. The old terms were manacles, shackbolts or shackles, gyves, and swivels. Until recently, there were two types of handcuffs: the figure-8 style, which kept the hands closely together either in front or behind the person, or a design where the wrists were connected by a short chain, similar to the handcuffs used by today’s police forces. Handcuffs have improved significantly in recent years. They are now much lighter and adjustable, fitting any wrist, so one pair can be used by a police officer for any prisoner. For transporting groups of convicts, there is a type of handcuff connected by a light chain, with the chain running through a ring on each fetter and secured at both ends by what are called end-locks. Several recently invented devices serve as handcuffs, such as snaps, nippers, and twisters. They differ from traditional handcuffs in that they are intended for only one wrist, with the other side being held by the captor. In the snap design, a smaller loop is snapped onto the prisoner’s wrist. The nippers can be quickly fastened onto the wrist. The twister, which is no longer used in England due to the risk of serious injury to prisoners, consists of a chain connected to two handles; the chain wraps around the wrist, and the two handles are twisted until the chain is tight enough.

Leg-irons are anklets of steel connected by light chains long enough to permit of the wearer walking with short steps. An obsolete form was an anklet and chain to the end of which was attached a heavy weight, usually a round shot. The Spanish used to secure prisoners in bilboes, shackles round the ankles secured by a long bar of iron. This form of leg-iron was adopted in England, and was much employed in the services during the 17th and 18th centuries. An ancient example is preserved in the Tower of London. The French marine still use a kind of leg-iron of the bilbo type.

Leg irons are steel ankle cuffs connected by light chains that are long enough to allow the wearer to walk with short steps. An outdated version was an ankle cuff and chain with a heavy weight, usually a round shot, attached to the end. The Spanish used to secure prisoners in bilboes, which are shackles around the ankles fastened by a long iron bar. This type of leg iron was adopted in England and was widely used in the military during the 17th and 18th centuries. An ancient example is preserved in the Tower of London. The French navy still uses a type of leg iron similar to the bilbo design.


FEU, in Scotland, the commonest mode of land tenure. The word is the Scots variant of “fee” (q.v.). The relics of the feudal system still dominate Scots conveyancing. That system has recognized as many as seven forms of tenure—ward, socage, mortification, feu, blench, burgage, booking. Ward, the original military holding, was abolished in 1747 (20 G. II. c. 20), as an effect of the rising of 1745. Socage and mortification have long since disappeared. Booking is a conveyance peculiar to the borough of Paisley, but does not differ essentially from feu. Burgage is the system by which land is held in royal boroughs. Blench holding is by a nominal payment, as of a penny Scots, or a red rose, often only to be rendered upon demand. In feu holding there is a substantial annual payment in money or in kind in return for the enjoyment of the land. The crown is the first overlord or superior, and land is held of it by crown vassals, but they in their turn may “feu” their land, as it is called, to others who become their vassals, whilst they themselves are mediate overlords or superiors; and this process of sub-infeudation may be repeated to an indefinite extent. The Conveyancing Act of 1874 renders any clause in a disposition against sub-infeudation null and void. In England on the other hand, since 1290, when the statute Quia Emptores was passed, sub-infeudation is impossible, as the new holder simply effaces the grantor, holding by the same title as the grantor himself. Casualties, which are a feature of land held in feu, are certain payments made to the superior, contingent on the happening of certain events. The most important was the payment of an amount equal to one year’s feu-duty by a new holder, whether heir or purchaser of the feu. The Conveyancing Act of 1874 abolished casualties in all feus after that date, and power was given to redeem this burden on feus already existing. If the vassal does not pay the feu-duty for two years, the superior, among other remedies, may obtain by legal process a decree of irritancy, whereupon tinsel or forfeiture of the feu follows. Previously to 1832 only the vassals of the crown had votes in parliamentary elections for the Scots counties, and this made in favour of sub-infeudation as against sale outright. In Orkney and Shetland land is still largely possessed as udal property, a holding derived or handed down from the time when these islands belonged to Norway. Such lands may be converted into feus at the will of the proprietor and held from the crown or Lord Dundas. At one time the system of conveyancing by which the transfer of feus was effected was curious and complicated, requiring the presence of parties on the land itself and the symbolical handing over of the property, together with the registration of various documents. But legislation since the middle of the 19th century has changed all that. The system of feuing in Scotland, as contrasted with that of long leaseholds in England, has tended to secure greater solidity and firmness in the average buildings of the northern country.

FEU, in Scotland is the most common way to own land. The term is the Scots version of “fee” (q.v.). The remnants of the feudal system still largely influence Scots property law. That system recognizes up to seven types of ownership: ward, socage, mortification, feu, blench, burgage, and booking. Ward, the original military holding, was abolished in 1747 (20 G. II. c. 20) due to the rising of 1745. Socage and mortification have long since disappeared. Booking is a type of property transfer unique to the borough of Paisley, but it’s essentially the same as feu. Burgage is the system under which land is owned in royal boroughs. Blench holding is done through a nominal payment, like one penny Scots or a red rose, often only required upon request. In feu holding, there is a significant annual payment in cash or goods in exchange for the use of the land. The crown is the main overlord or superior, and land is held from it by crown vassals, who can, in turn, “feu” their land to others who become their vassals while they act as intermediate overlords or superiors; this process of sub-infeudation can go on indefinitely. The Conveyancing Act of 1874 invalidates any clause in a property deed that prevents sub-infeudation. In England, however, since 1290, when the statute Quia Emptores was enacted, sub-infeudation is not possible, as the new holder replaces the original grantor, holding under the same title as the grantor. Casualties, which are payments associated with land held in feu, are certain payments made to the superior depending on specific events. The most significant of these was the payment of an amount equal to one year’s feu-duty by a new holder, whether an heir or a buyer of the feu. The Conveyancing Act of 1874 eliminated casualties in all feus created after that date and allowed for the redemption of this obligation on existing feus. If the vassal fails to pay the feu-duty for two years, the superior may obtain a decree of irritancy through legal proceedings, leading to tinsel or forfeiture of the feu. Before 1832, only vassals of the crown could vote in parliamentary elections for the Scots counties, which favored sub-infeudation over outright sales. In Orkney and Shetland, land is still mostly owned as udal property, a holding passed down from the time when these islands were part of Norway. Such lands can be converted into feus at the owner’s discretion and held from the crown or Lord Dundas. At one time, the system of property transfer for feus was complex and required the presence of parties on the land itself, including the symbolic handing over of property along with the registration of various documents. However, laws implemented since the mid-19th century have changed this. The system of feuing in Scotland, compared to the long leaseholds in England, has tended to ensure greater stability and durability in the average buildings in the northern country.

See Erskine’s Principles; Bell’s Principles; Rankine, Law of Landownership in Scotland.

See Erskine’s Principles; Bell’s Principles; Rankine, Law of Landownership in Scotland.


FEUCHÈRES, SOPHIE, Baronne de (1795-1840), Anglo-French adventuress, was born at St Helens, Isle of Wight, in 1795, the daughter of a drunken fisherman named Dawes. She grew up in the workhouse, went up to London as a servant, and became the mistress of the duc de Bourbon, afterwards prince de Condé. She was ambitious, and he had her well educated not only in modern languages but, as her exercise books—still extant—show, in Greek and Latin. He took her to Paris and, to prevent scandal and to qualify her to be received at court, had her married in 1818 to Adrien Victor de Feuchères, a major in the Royal Guards. The prince provided her dowry, made her husband his aide-de-camp and a baron. The baroness, pretty and clever, became a person of consequence at the court of Louis XVIII. De Feuchères, however, finally discovered the relations between his wife and Condé, whom he had been assured was her father, left her—he obtained a legal separation in 1827—and told the king, who thereupon forbade her appearance at court. Thanks to her influence, however, Condé was induced in 1829 to sign a will bequeathing about ten million francs to her, and the rest of his estate—more than sixty-six millions—to the duc d’Aumale, fourth son of Louis Philippe. Again she was in high favour. Charles X. received her at court, Talleyrand visited her, her niece married a marquis and her nephew was made a baron. Condé, wearied by his mistress’s importunities, and but half pleased by the advances made him by the government of July, had made up his mind to leave France secretly. When on the 27th of August 1830 he was found hanging dead from his window, the baroness was suspected and an inquiry was held, but the evidence of death being the result of any crime appearing insufficient, she was not prosecuted. Hated as she was alike by legitimatists and republicans, life in Paris was no longer agreeable for her, and she returned to London, where she died in December 1840.

FEUCHÈRES, SOPHIE, Baroness de (1795-1840), an Anglo-French adventurer, was born in St Helens, Isle of Wight, in 1795, as the daughter of an alcoholic fisherman named Dawes. She grew up in a workhouse, moved to London as a servant, and became the mistress of the duc de Bourbon, later known as prince de Condé. She was ambitious, and he ensured she received a good education, not just in modern languages but, as her exercise books—still available—indicate, in Greek and Latin as well. He took her to Paris, and to avoid scandal and to prepare her for court, had her married in 1818 to Adrien Victor de Feuchères, a major in the Royal Guards. The prince provided her dowry, made her husband his aide-de-camp, and gave him the title of baron. The baroness, attractive and smart, became a notable figure at the court of Louis XVIII. However, de Feuchères eventually discovered the affair between his wife and Condé, whom he had been told was her father, and left her—he obtained a legal separation in 1827—and informed the king, who then banned her from court. Despite this, thanks to her influence, Condé was persuaded in 1829 to sign a will leaving her about ten million francs and the rest of his estate—over sixty-six million francs—to the duc d’Aumale, the fourth son of Louis Philippe. Once again, she was in high favor. Charles X received her at court, Talleyrand visited her, her niece married a marquis, and her nephew was made a baron. However, Condé, tired of his mistress’s demands and only somewhat pleased with the advances made by the July government, decided to leave France secretly. On August 27, 1830, when he was found hanging dead from his window, the baroness was suspected, and an inquiry was conducted, but the evidence suggesting his death was due to any crime was deemed insufficient, so she was not prosecuted. Resented by both legitimists and republicans, life in Paris became unpleasant for her, and she returned to London, where she died in December 1840.


FEUCHTERSLEBEN, ERNST, Freiherr von (1806-1849), Austrian physician, poet and philosopher, was born in Vienna on the 29th of April 1806; of an old Saxon noble family. He attended the “Theresian Academy” in his native city, and in 1825 entered its university as a student of medicine. In 1833 he obtained the degree of doctor of medicine, settled in Vienna as a practising surgeon, and in 1834 married. The young doctor kept up his connexion with the university, where he lectured, and 297 in 1844 was appointed dean of the faculty of medicine. He cultivated the acquaintance of Franz Grillparzer, Heinrich Laube, and other intellectual lights of the Viennese world, interested himself greatly in educational matters, and in 1848, while refusing the presidency of the ministry of education, accepted the appointment of under secretary of state in that department. His health, however, gave way, and he died at Vienna on the 3rd of September 1849. He was not only a clever physician, but a poet of fine aesthetical taste and a philosopher. Among his medical works may be mentioned: Über das Hippokratische erste Buch von der Diät (Vienna, 1835), Ärzte und Publicum (Vienna, 1848) and Lehrbuch der ärztlichen Seelenkunde (1845). His poetical works include Gedichte (Stutt. 1836), among which is the well-known beautiful hymn, which Mendelssohn set to music. “Es ist bestimmt in Gottes Rat.” As a philosopher he is best known by his Zur Diätetik der Seele [Dietetics of the soul] (Vienna, 1838), which attained great popularity, and the tendency of which, in contrast to Hufeland’s Makrobiotik (On the Art of Prolonging Life), is to show the true way of rendering life harmonious and lovely. This work had by 1906 gone into fifty editions. Noteworthy also is his Beiträge zur Litteratur-, Kunst- und Lebenstheorie (Vienna, 1837-1841), and an anthology, Geist der deutschen Klassiker (Vienna, 1851; 3rd ed. 1865-1866).

FEUCHTERSLEBEN, ERNST, Baron von (1806-1849), Austrian doctor, poet, and philosopher, was born in Vienna on April 29, 1806, into an old Saxon noble family. He attended the “Theresian Academy” in his hometown and entered the university as a medical student in 1825. In 1833, he earned his doctor of medicine degree, established a practice in Vienna as a surgeon, and got married in 1834. The young doctor maintained his connection with the university, where he lectured, and was appointed dean of the faculty of medicine in 1844. He became acquainted with Franz Grillparzer, Heinrich Laube, and other intellectual figures of Vienna, was deeply interested in educational issues, and in 1848, while he turned down the role of president of the ministry of education, he accepted the position of undersecretary of state in that department. However, his health deteriorated, and he passed away in Vienna on September 3, 1849. He was not only an accomplished physician, but also a poet with refined aesthetic sensibilities and a philosopher. Some of his medical works include: Über das Hippokratische erste Buch von der Diät (Vienna, 1835), Ärzte und Publicum (Vienna, 1848), and Lehrbuch der ärztlichen Seelenkunde (1845). His poetry collection includes Gedichte (Stutt. 1836), which features the well-known beautiful hymn that Mendelssohn set to music: “Es ist bestimmt in Gottes Rat.” As a philosopher, he is best known for Zur Diätetik der Seele [Dietetics of the soul] (Vienna, 1838), which became very popular and contrasts with Hufeland’s Makrobiotik (On the Art of Prolonging Life) by showing how to make life harmonious and beautiful. By 1906, this work had gone through fifty editions. His Beiträge zur Litteratur-, Kunst- und Lebenstheorie (Vienna, 1837-1841), and an anthology titled Geist der deutschen Klassiker (Vienna, 1851; 3rd ed. 1865-1866) are also noteworthy.

His collected works (with the exception of the purely medical ones) were published in 7 vols. by Fr. Hebbel (Vienna, 1851-1853). See M. Necker, “Ernst von Feuchtersleben, der Freund Grillparzers,” in the Jahrbuch der Grillparzer Gesellschaft, vol. iii. (Vienna, 1893).

His collected works (except for the purely medical ones) were published in 7 volumes by Fr. Hebbel (Vienna, 1851-1853). See M. Necker, “Ernst von Feuchtersleben, the Friend of Grillparzer,” in the Jahrbuch der Grillparzer Gesellschaft, vol. iii. (Vienna, 1893).


FEUD, animosity, hatred, especially a permanent condition of hostilities between persons, and hence applied to a state of private warfare between tribes, clans or families, a “vendetta.” The word appears in Mid. Eng. as fede, which came through the O. Fr. from the O. High Ger. fehida, modern Fehde. The O. Teutonic faiho, an adjective, the source of fehida, gives the O. Eng. fáh, foe. “Fiend,” originally an enemy (cf. Ger. Feind), hence the enemy of mankind, the devil, and so any evil spirit, is probably connected with the same source. The word fede was of Scottish usage, but in the 16th century took the form foode, fewd in English. The New English Dictionary points out that “feud, fee (Lat. feudum) could not have influenced the change, for it appears fifty years later than the first instances of foode, &c., and was only used by writers on feudalism.” For the etymology of “feud” (feudum) see Fee, and for its history see Feudalism.

FEUD, animosity, hatred, especially a long-lasting state of hostility between individuals, and thus applied to a situation of private conflict between tribes, clans, or families, a “vendetta.” The word appears in Middle English as fede, which came from Old French through Old High German fehida, modern Fehde. The Old Teutonic faiho, an adjective, the source of fehida, gives the Old English fáh, foe. “Fiend,” originally meaning an enemy (cf. German Feind), thus became the enemy of humanity, the devil, and any evil spirit, probably comes from the same root. The term fede was used in Scotland but changed to the form foode, fewd in English during the 16th century. The New English Dictionary notes that “feud, fee (Latin feudum) could not have influenced the change, as it appears fifty years later than the first instances of foode, etc., and was only used by writers on feudalism.” For the etymology of “feud” (feudum) see Fee, and for its history see Feudalism.


FEUDALISM (from Late Lat. feodum or feudum, a fee or fiel; see Fee). In every case of institutional growth in history two things are to be clearly distinguished from the beginning for a correct understanding of the process and its results. One of these is the change of conditions in the political or social environment which made growth necessary. The other is the already existing institutions which began to be transformed to meet the new needs. In studying the origin and growth of political feudalism, the distinction is easy to make. The all-prevailing need of the later Roman and early medieval society was protection—protection against the sudden attacks of invading tribes or revolted peasants, against oppressive neighbours, against the unwarranted demands of government officers, or even against the legal but too heavy exactions of the government itself. In the days of the decaying empire and of the chaotic German settlement, the weak freeman, the small landowner, was exposed to attack in almost every relation of life and on every side. The protection which normally it is the business of government to furnish he could no longer obtain. He must seek protection elsewhere wherever he could get it, and pay the price demanded for it. This is the great social fact—the failure of government to perform one of its most primary duties, the necessity of finding some substitute in private life—extending in greater or less degree through the whole formative period of feudalism, which explains the transformation of institutions that brought it into existence. Similar conditions have produced an organization which may be called feudal, in various countries, and in widely separated periods of history. While these different feudal systems have shown a general similarity of organization, there has been also great variation in their details, because they have started from different institutions and developed in different ways. The feudal system with which history most concerns itself is that of medieval western Europe, and it is that which will be here described.

FEUDALISM (from Late Lat. feodum or feudum, a fee or field; see Fee). To correctly understand the growth of institutions in history, we need to clearly distinguish two things from the outset. First, there are the changing political or social conditions that made this growth necessary. Second, there are the existing institutions that began to adapt to meet these new needs. When exploring the origin and development of political feudalism, this distinction is straightforward. The dominant concern of late Roman and early medieval society was protection—protection from sudden attacks by invading tribes or rebellious peasants, from oppressive neighbors, from unjust demands of government officials, or even from the legal but burdensome taxes imposed by the government itself. During the decline of the empire and the chaotic German settlements, the vulnerable freeman, or small landowner, faced threats in almost every aspect of life. The protection that a government typically provides was no longer available to him. He had to seek protection wherever he could find it and pay the price required for it. This highlights a significant social issue—the government's failure to fulfill one of its most essential responsibilities and the need to find alternatives in private life—an ongoing trend throughout the entire formative period of feudalism, which explains how institutions transformed to create it. Similar circumstances have led to the emergence of feudal organizations in various countries and widely separated historical periods. While these different feudal systems generally share a similar structure, they have also varied significantly in their specifics, as they arose from different institutions and evolved in unique ways. The feudal system that most concerns historians is that of medieval Western Europe, and it is this system that will be described here.

The institutions which the need of protection seized upon when it first began to turn away from the state were twofold. They had both long existed in the private, not public, relations of the Romans, and they had up to this time Roman origins. shown no tendency to grow. One of them related to the person, to the man himself, without reference to property, the other related to land. There are thus distinguished at the beginning those two great sides of feudalism which remained to the end of its history more or less distinct, the personal relation and the land relation. The personal institution needs little description. It was the Roman patron and client relationship which had remained in existence into the days of the empire, in later times less important perhaps legally than socially, and which had been reinforced in Gaul by very similar practices in use among the Celts before their conquest. The description of this institution which has come down to us from Roman sources of the days when feudalism was beginning is not so detailed as we could wish, but we can see plainly enough that it met a frequent need, that it was called by a new name, the patrocinium, and that it was firmly enough entrenched in usage to survive the German conquest, and to be taken up and continued by the conquerors. In its new use, alike in the later Roman and the early German state, the landless freeman who could not support himself went to some powerful man, stated his need, and offered his services, those proper to a freeman, in return for shelter and support. This transaction, which was called commendation, gave rise in the German state to a written contract which related the facts and provided a penalty for its violation. It created a relationship of protection and support on one side, and of free service on the other.

The institutions that emerged when the need for protection shifted away from the state were twofold. They had both existed for a long time in the private, not public, relationships of the Romans, and up until this point, they had shown little chance of growth. One of them was about the person, the individual himself, regardless of property, while the other was about land. Thus, at the beginning, we identify these two main aspects of feudalism that remained relatively distinct throughout its history: the personal relationship and the land relationship. The personal institution doesn’t need much explaining. It was the Roman patron-client relationship that persisted into the days of the empire, which perhaps became less significant legally than socially over time, and it had been reinforced in Gaul by similar customs among the Celts before their conquest. The description of this institution from Roman sources dating back to the early days of feudalism is not as detailed as we would like, but it's clear that it served a common need, was referred to by a new name, the patrocinium, and was well enough established in practice to survive the German conquest and be adopted by the conquerors. In its new form, both in the later Roman and early German states, the landless freeman who couldn’t support himself would approach a powerful individual, express his needs, and offer his services, appropriate to a freeman, in exchange for shelter and support. This arrangement, known as commendation, led to a written contract in the German state that outlined the facts and provided penalties for violations. It established a relationship of protection and support on one side and free service on the other.

The other institution, relating to land, was that known to the Roman law as the precarium, a name derived from one of its essential features through all its history, the prayer of the suppliant by which the relationship was begun. The precarium was a form of renting land not intended primarily for income, but for use when the lease was made from friendship for example, or as a reward, or to secure a debt. Legally its characteristic feature was that the lessee had no right of any kind against the grantor. The owner could call in his land and terminate the relation at any time, for any reason, or for none at all. Even a definite understanding at the outset that the lease might be enjoyed to a specified date was no protection.1 It followed of course that the heir had no right in the land which his father held in this way, nor was the heir of the donor bound by his father’s act. The legal character of this transaction is summed up in a well-known passage in the Digest:—Interdictum de precariis merito introductum est, quia nulla eo nomine juris civilis actio esset, magis enim ad donationes et beneficii causam, quam ad negotii contracti spectat precarii conditio.2 This may be paraphrased as follows:—The precarium tenant may employ the interdict against a third party, because he cannot use the ordinary civil action, his holding being not a matter of business but rather of favour and kindness. It should be noted that from its very beginning the land relationship of feudalism was not created primarily for the grantor’s income, but that it emphasized in the most striking way his continued ownership.

The other institution related to land was known in Roman law as the precarium, a name derived from one of its key features throughout its history, the request made by the suitor that initiated the relationship. The precarium was a way of renting land that wasn't primarily about making money, but rather for use based on friendship, as a reward, or to secure a debt. Legally, the defining feature was that the lessee held no rights against the grantor. The owner could reclaim their land and end the relationship at any time, for any reason, or even without reason. Even if there was a clear agreement at the beginning that the lease could last until a specified date, that didn't provide any protection. It followed that the heir had no rights to the land that his father held in this manner, nor was the heir of the donor obligated by his father’s actions. The legal nature of this transaction is encapsulated in a well-known excerpt from the Digest:—Interdictum de precariis merito introductum est, quia nulla eo nomine juris civilis actio esset, magis enim ad donationes et beneficii causam, quam ad negotii contracti spectat precarii conditio. This can be paraphrased as follows:—The precarium tenant may use the interdict against a third party because he can't use the normal civil action, as his holding is not a business matter but rather one of favor and kindness. It should be emphasized that from its inception, the land relationship in feudalism was not created mainly for the grantor’s profit, but rather highlighted the continued ownership of the grantor.

As used for protection in later Roman days the precarium gave rise to what was called the commendation of lands, patrocinium fundorum. The poor landowner, likely to lose all that he had from one kind of oppression or another, went to the great landowner, his neighbour, whose position gave him immunity from attack or the power to prevent official abuses, and begged to be protected. The rich man answered, I can only protect my own. Of necessity the poor man must surrender to his powerful neighbour the ownership of his lands, which he then received back as a precarium—gaining protection during his lifetime 298 at the cost of his children, who were left without legal claim and compelled to make the best terms they could.3 Applied to this use the precarium found extensive employment in the last age of the empire. The government looked on the practice with great disfavour, because it transferred large areas from the easy access of the state to an ownership beyond its reach. The laws repeatedly forbade it under increasing penalties, but clearly it could not be stopped. The motive was too strong on both sides—the need of protection on one side, the natural desire to increase large possessions and means of self-defence on the other.

As used for protection in later Roman times, the precarium led to what was known as the commendation of lands, patrocinium fundorum. The struggling landowner, facing the risk of losing everything because of various oppressions, would go to the wealthy landowner next door, whose status shielded him from attacks or allowed him to stop official abuses, and ask for protection. The rich man replied, "I can only protect my own." Consequently, the poor man had to give up ownership of his lands to his powerful neighbor, who then returned them as a precarium—providing protection during his lifetime but at the expense of his children, who were left with no legal claim and forced to negotiate the best arrangements they could. 298 Applied for this purpose, the precarium was widely used in the last days of the empire. The government viewed this practice negatively because it shifted large areas of land out of easy state access to ownership beyond its control. The laws repeatedly prohibited it with increasing penalties, but it clearly could not be stopped. The motivations were too powerful on both sides—the need for protection on one side, and the natural desire to increase wealth and means of self-defense on the other.

These practices the Frankish conquerors of Gaul found in full possession of society when they entered into that province. They seem to have understood them at once, and, like much else Roman, to have made them their own without Frankish development. material change. The patrocinium they were made ready to understand by the existence of a somewhat similar institution among themselves, the comitatus, described by Tacitus. In this institution the chief of the tribe, or of some plainly marked division of the tribe, gathered about himself a band of chosen warriors, who formed a kind of private military force and body-guard. The special features of the institution were the strong tie of faith and service which bound the man, the support and rewards given by the lord, and the pride of both in the relationship. The patrocinium might well seem to the German only a form of the comitatus, but it was a form which presented certain advantages in his actual situation. The chief of these was perhaps the fact that it was not confined to king or tribal chief, but that every noble was able in the Roman practice to surround himself with his organized private army. Probably this fact, together with the more general fact of the absorption in most things of the German in the Roman, accounts for the substitution of the patrocinium for the comitatus which took place under the Merovingians.

These practices were fully integrated into society when the Frankish conquerors arrived in Gaul. They seemed to grasp them quickly and, like many other Roman customs, adopted them as their own without Frankish growth. The concept of patrocinium was made easy for them to understand because of a somewhat similar system they had, the comitatus, which Tacitus described. In this system, the tribe's leader, or a clearly defined part of the tribe, gathered a group of selected warriors who formed a private military force and bodyguard. The key features of this system were the strong bond of loyalty and service between the man and the leader, the support and rewards provided by the lord, and the pride both felt in their relationship. The patrocinium might have seemed to the Germans like a variation of the comitatus, but it had certain advantages for their actual situation. One of the main advantages was that it wasn’t limited to kings or tribal chiefs; any noble could, according to Roman custom, surround himself with his own organized private army. This fact, along with the general trend of the Germanic people adopting Roman ways, likely explains why the patrocinium replaced the comitatus during the Merovingian period.

This change did not occur, however, without some modification of the Roman customs. The comitatus made contributions of its own to future feudalism, to some extent to its institutional side, largely to the ideas and spirit which ruled in it. Probably the ceremony which grew into feudal homage, and the oath of fealty, certainly the honourable position of the vassal and his pride in the relationship, the strong tie which bound lord and man together, and the idea that faith and service were due on both sides in equal measure, we may trace to German sources. But we must not forget that the origin of the vassal relationship, as an institution, is to be found on Roman and not on German soil. The comitatus developed and modified, it did not originate. Nor was the feudal system established in any sense by the settlement of the comitatus group on the conquered land. The uniting of the personal and the land sides of feudalism came long after the conquest, and in a different way.

This change didn't happen, however, without some alterations to Roman customs. The comitatus contributed to future feudalism, especially in its institutional aspects, and significantly influenced the ideas and spirit that defined it. Likely, the ceremony that evolved into feudal homage, and the oath of fealty, as well as the respected position of the vassal and his pride in that relationship, along with the strong bond between lord and man, and the mutual expectation of faith and service on both sides, can be traced back to German roots. However, we must remember that the origin of the vassal relationship as an institution is found in Roman rather than German territory. The comitatus developed and modified it; it did not create it. Moreover, the feudal system wasn't established in any way by the settlement of the comitatus group on the conquered land. The merging of the personal and land aspects of feudalism occurred long after the conquest and in a different manner.

To the precarium German institutions offered no close parallel. The advantages, however, which it afforded were obvious, and this side of feudalism developed as rapidly after the conquest as the personal. The new German noble was as eager to extend the size of his lands and to increase the numbers of his dependants as the Roman had been. The new German government furnished no better protection from local violence, nor was it able any more effectively to check the practices which were creating feudalism; indeed for a long time it made no attempt to do so. Precarium and patrocinium easily passed from the Roman empire to the Frankish kingdom, and became as firmly rooted in the new society as they had ever been in the old. Up to this point we have seen only the small landowner and the landless man entering into these relations. Feudalism could not be established, however, until the great of the land had adopted them for themselves, and had begun to enter the clientage of others and to hold lands by the precarium tenure. The first step towards this result was easily and quickly taken. The same class continued to furnish the king’s men, and to form his household and body-guard whether the relation was that of the patrocinium or the comitatus, and to be made noble by entering into it. It was later that they became clients of one another, and in part at least as a result of their adoption of the precarium tenure. In this latter step the influence of the Church rather than of the king seems to have been effective. The large estates which pious intentions had bestowed on the Church it was not allowed to alienate. It could most easily make them useful to gain the influence and support which it needed, and to provide for the public functions which fell to its share, by employing the precarium tenure. On the other side, the great men coveted the wide estates of bishop and abbot, and were ready without persuasion to annex portions of them to their own on the easy terms of this tenure, not always indeed observed by the holder, or able to be enforced by the Church. The employment of the precarium by the Church seems to have been one of the surest means by which this form of landholding was carried over from the Romans to the Frankish period and developed into new forms. It came to be made by degrees the subject of written contract, by which the rights of the holder were more definitely defined and protected than had been the case in Roman law. The length of time for which the holding should last came to be specified, at first for a term of years and then for life, and some payment to the grantor was provided for, not pretending to represent the economic value of the land, but only to serve as a mark of his continued ownership.

To the precarium, German institutions had no close equivalent. The benefits it offered were clear, and this aspect of feudalism grew just as quickly after the conquest as the personal side did. The new German nobles were just as eager to expand their lands and increase their followers as the Romans had been. The new German government didn’t provide any better protection against local violence, nor was it able to effectively stop the practices that led to feudalism; in fact, for a long time, it didn’t even try. The concepts of precarium and patrocinium easily transitioned from the Roman Empire to the Frankish Kingdom, becoming as ingrained in the new society as they had been in the old. So far, we've only seen small landowners and landless individuals entering into these relationships. Feudalism couldn’t be established until the powerful landholders adopted these practices for themselves and began to enter the clientage of others and hold lands through precarium tenure. The first step toward this outcome was straightforward and swift. This same class continued to provide the king's men, forming his household and bodyguard, whether their relationship was one of patrocinium or comitatus, and attained nobility by participating in it. Later, they became clients of one another, partly due to their adoption of precarium tenure. In this latter development, it appears that the Church’s influence was more significant than the king's. The large estates that pious intentions had granted to the Church were not allowed to be sold off. The Church could most effectively utilize them to gain the influence and support it required, as well as to fulfill the public functions it needed to perform, by employing precarium tenure. On the flip side, the powerful figures desired the vast estates of bishops and abbots and were willing, without persuasion, to annex portions of them to their own under the easy conditions of this tenure, which were not always upheld by the holders or enforceable by the Church. The Church's use of precarium tenure appears to have been one of the most reliable means through which this form of landholding was transferred from the Romans to the Frankish period and evolved into new forms. Over time, it gradually became the subject of written contracts, which more clearly defined and protected the rights of the holder than was the case under Roman law. The duration of the holding was eventually specified, initially for a term of years and then for life, and some payment to the grantor was stipulated, not claiming to represent the economic value of the land, but merely serving as a symbol of the grantor’s ongoing ownership.

These changes characterize the Merovingian age of Frankish history. That period had practically ended, however, before these two institutions showed any tendency to join together as they were joined in later feudalism. Nor had the king up to that time exerted any apparent influence on the processes that were going forward. Grants of land of the Merovingian kings had carried with them ownership and not a limited right, and the king’s patrocinium had not widened in extent in the direction of the later vassal relation. It was the advent of the Carolingian princes and the difficulties which they had to overcome that carried these institutions a stage further forward. Making their way up from a position among the nobility to be the rulers of the land, and finally to supplant the kings, the Carolingians had especial need of resources from which to purchase and reward faithful support. This need was greatly increased when the Arab attack on southern Gaul forced them to transform a large part of the old Frankish foot army into cavalry.4 The fundamental principle of the Frankish military system, that the man served at his own expense, was still unchanged. It had indeed begun to break down under the strain of frequent and distant campaigns, but it was long before it was changed as the recognized rule of medieval service. If now, in addition to his own expenses, the soldier must provide a horse and its keeping, the system was likely to break down altogether. It was this problem which led to the next step. To solve it the early Carolingian princes, especially Charles Martel, who found the royal domains exhausted and their own inadequate, grasped at the land of the Church. Here was enough to endow an army, if some means could be devised to permit its use. This means was found in the precarium tenure. Keeping alive, as it did, the fact of the grantor’s ownership, it did not in form deprive the Church of the land. Recognizing that ownership by a small payment only, not corresponding to the value of the land, it left the larger part of the income to meet the need which had arisen. At the same time undoubtedly the new holder of the land, if not already the vassal of the prince, was obliged to become so and to assume an obligation of service with a mounted force when called upon.5 This expedient seems to have solved the problem. It gave rise to the numerous precariae verbo regis, of the Church records, and to the condemnation of Charles Martel in the visions of the clergy to worse difficulties in the future life than he had overcome in this. The most important consequences of the expedient, however, were not intended or perceived at the time. It brought together the two sides of feudalism, vassalage and benefice, as they were now commonly called, and from this age their union into what is really a single 299 institution was rapid;6 it emphasized military service as an essential obligation of the vassal; and it spread the vassal relation between individual proprietors and the sovereign widely over the state.

These changes define the Merovingian period of Frankish history. However, that era had mostly ended before these two institutions showed any signs of merging like they did in later feudalism. Up until that time, the king had not exerted any visible influence on the ongoing processes. Grants of land from the Merovingian kings came with full ownership, not limited rights, and the king’s patrocinium had not expanded in the way of the later vassal relationship. It was the rise of the Carolingian princes and the challenges they faced that advanced these institutions a step further. As they moved up from the nobility to become the rulers of the land and eventually replace the kings, the Carolingians had a particular need for resources to buy and reward loyal support. This need intensified when the Arab invasion of southern Gaul necessitated transforming a significant part of the old Frankish infantry into cavalry.4 The fundamental principle of the Frankish military system, that the soldier served at his own expense, remained unchanged. It had begun to weaken under the pressure of frequent and distant campaigns, but it took a long time before it was officially changed as the accepted rule of medieval service. If, in addition to his own expenses, the soldier now had to provide a horse and its upkeep, the system was likely to collapse entirely. This issue led to the next development. To address it, the early Carolingian princes, especially Charles Martel, who found the royal lands depleted and their own insufficient, turned to the land of the Church. There was enough to equip an army, provided a way could be found to use it. This solution was discovered in the precarium tenure. It preserved the grantor's ownership, so it didn't formally deprive the Church of the land. By recognizing ownership through a small payment that did not match the land's value, it allowed a larger portion of the income to meet the new demand. Simultaneously, the new holder of the land, if not already a vassal of the prince, would have to become one and agree to provide mounted service when needed.5 This approach seems to have resolved the issue. It led to the numerous precariae verbo regis found in Church records, and the clergy condemned Charles Martel in their visions to face greater hardships in the afterlife than he had dealt with on Earth. However, the most significant outcomes of this approach were not anticipated or recognized at the time. It united the two aspects of feudalism, vassalage and benefice, as they became commonly known, and from this period, their integration into what is effectively a single 299 institution happened swiftly;6 it highlighted military service as a key obligation of the vassal; and it spread the vassal relationship between individual landowners and the sovereign widely throughout the state.

In the period that followed, the reign of Charlemagne and the later Carolingian age, continued necessities, military and civil, forced the kings to recognize these new institutions more fully, even when standing in a position between the government and the subject, intercepting the public duties of the latter. The incipient feudal baron had not been slow to take advantage of the break-down of the old German military system. As in the last days of the Roman empire the poor landowner had found his only refuge from the exactions of the government in the protection of the senator, who could in some way obtain exemptions, so the poor Frank could escape the ruinous demands of military service only by submitting himself and his lands to the count, who did not hesitate on his side to force such submission. Charlemagne legislated with vigour against this tendency, trying to make it easier for the poor freeman to fulfil his military duties directly to the state, and to forbid the misuse of power by the rich, but he was not more successful than the Roman government had been in a like attempt. Finally the king found himself compelled to recognize existing facts, to lay upon the lord the duty of producing his men in the field and to allow him to appear as their commander. This solved the difficulty of military service apparently, but with decisive consequences. It completed the transformation of the army into a vassal army; it completed the recognition of feudalism by the state, as a legitimate relation between different ranks of the people; and it recognized the transformation in a great number of cases of a public duty into a private obligation.

In the time that followed Charlemagne's rule and the later Carolingian era, ongoing military and civil needs pushed the kings to acknowledge these new institutions more fully, even when caught between the government and the people, disrupting the public responsibilities of the latter. The emerging feudal barons quickly took advantage of the breakdown of the old German military system. Just as in the final days of the Roman Empire, when struggling landowners found their only refuge from government demands in the protection of senators, who could somehow secure exemptions, the impoverished Franks could escape the burdensome demands of military service only by submitting themselves and their lands to the counts, who eagerly enforced such submission. Charlemagne firmly legislated against this trend, aiming to make it easier for poor freemen to fulfill their military obligations directly to the state and to prevent the wealthy from abusing their power, but he was no more successful than the Roman government had been in similar efforts. Ultimately, the king had no choice but to accept the existing realities, assigning the lord the responsibility to provide his men for military service and allowing him to act as their commander. This seemingly resolved the military service issue, but it had significant consequences. It completed the shift of the army into a vassal force, solidified the state's recognition of feudalism as a legitimate relationship among different social classes, and acknowledged the transformation of many public duties into private obligations.

In the meantime another institution had grown up in this Franco-Roman society, which probably began and certainly assisted in another transformation of the same kind. This is the immunity. Suggested probably by Roman practices, possibly developed directly from them, it received a great extension in the Merovingian period, at first and especially in the interest of the Church, but soon of lay land-holders. By the grant of an immunity to a proprietor the royal officers, the count and his representatives, were forbidden to enter his lands to exercise any public function there. The duties which the count should perform passed to the proprietor, who now represented the government for all his tenants free and unfree. Apparently no modification of the royal rights was intended by this arrangement, but the beginning of a great change had really been made. The king might still receive the same revenues and the same services from the district held by the lord as formerly, but for their payment a private person in his capacity as overlord was now responsible. In the course of a long period characterized by a weak central government, it was not difficult to enlarge the rights which the lord thus obtained, to exclude even the king’s personal authority from the immunity, and to translate the duties and payments which the tenant had once owed to the state into obligations which he owed to his lord, even finally into incidents of his tenure. The most important public function whose transformation into a private possession was assisted by the growth of the immunity was the judicial. This process had probably already begun in a small way in the growth of institutions which belong to the economic side of feudalism, the organization of agriculture on the great estates. Even in Roman days the proprietor had exercised a jurisdiction over the disputes of his unfree tenants. Whether this could by its own growth have been extended over his free tenants and carried so far as to absorb a local court, like that of the hundred, into private possession, is not certain. It seems probable that it could. But in any case, the immunity easily carried the development of private jurisdiction through these stages. The lord’s court took the place of the public court in civil, and even by degrees in criminal cases. The plaintiff, even if he were under another lord, was obliged to sue in the court of the defendant’s lord, and the portion of the fine for a breach of the peace which should have gone to the state went in the end to the lord.

In the meantime, another institution emerged in this Franco-Roman society, likely inspired by Roman practices and certainly facilitating a similar transformation. This institution is immunity. Probably suggested by Roman customs, and possibly developed directly from them, it gained significant prominence during the Merovingian period, initially benefiting the Church, but soon extending to lay landowners as well. When a proprietor was granted immunity, royal officials, including the count and his representatives, were prohibited from entering his lands to perform any public functions. The responsibilities that the count typically handled were transferred to the proprietor, who then represented the government for all his tenants, both free and unfree. While this arrangement did not seem to modify the royal rights, it marked the beginning of a significant change. The king could still collect the same taxes and services from the area held by the lord as before, but now a private individual, in their role as overlord, became responsible for those payments. Over a long period characterized by a weak central government, it became easy to expand the rights held by the lord, exclude even the king’s personal authority from the immunity, and turn the obligations that tenants once owed to the state into responsibilities owed to their lord, eventually making them part of their tenure. One of the most important public functions that transformed into private possession due to the growth of immunity was the judicial system. This process likely started on a small scale with the emergence of institutions related to the economic aspects of feudalism, specifically the organization of agriculture on large estates. Even in Roman times, proprietors had authority over disputes involving their unfree tenants. It’s uncertain whether this jurisdiction could have naturally extended to encompass free tenants and eventually absorbed a local court, like that of the hundred, into private ownership. However, it seems likely that it could have. Regardless, immunity facilitated the development of private jurisdiction through these stages. The lord’s court replaced the public court in civil cases and gradually in criminal cases as well. The plaintiff, even if under another lord, was required to bring their case in the court of the defendant’s lord, and the portion of the fine for a breach of the peace that would have gone to the state ultimately went to the lord.

The transfer of the judicial process, and of the financial and administrative sides of the government as well, into private possession, was not, however, accomplished entirely by the road of the immunity. As government weakened after the strong days of Charlemagne, and disorder, invasion, and the difficulty of intercommunication tended to throw the locality more and more upon its own resources, the officer who had once been the means of centralization, the count, found success in the effort for independence which even Charlemagne had scarcely overcome. He was able to throw off responsibility to any central authority, and to exercise the powers which had been committed to him as an agent of the king, as if they were his own private possession. Nor was the king’s aid lacking to this method of dividing up the royal authority, any more than to the immunity, for it became a frequent practice to make the administrative office into a fief, and to grant it to be held in that form of property by the count. In this way the feudal county, or duchy, formed itself, corresponding in most cases only roughly to the old administrative divisions of the state, for within the bounds of the county there had often formed private feudal possessions too powerful to be forced into dependence upon the count, sometimes the vice-comes had followed the count’s example, and often, on the other hand, the count had attached to his county like private possessions of his own lying outside its boundaries. In time the private lord, who had never been an officer of the state, assumed the old administrative titles and called himself count or viscount, and perhaps with some sort of right, for his position in his territories, through the development of the immunity, did not differ from that now held by the man who had been originally a count.

The transfer of the judicial process, as well as the financial and administrative aspects of the government, into private ownership wasn't solely achieved through immunity. As the government weakened after Charlemagne's era, and chaos, invasions, and communication difficulties forced localities to rely more on their own resources, the official responsible for centralization, the count, found success in pursuing independence that even Charlemagne had barely managed to tackle. He was able to dismiss any responsibility to a central authority and wield the powers given to him as the king's representative as if they were his own. The king's support for this method of distributing royal authority was just as common as for immunity, as it became a common practice to turn the administrative office into a fief and allow the count to hold it as personal property. This way, feudal counties or duchies emerged, often only loosely aligning with the old administrative divisions of the state, since within the county boundaries, private feudal holdings had developed that were too powerful to be made dependent on the count. Sometimes, the vice-counts followed the count's lead, and often the count would attach private possessions outside his county. Over time, the private lords, who had never held a state office, took on old administrative titles and called themselves count or viscount, perhaps with some justification, as their status in their territories, due to the development of immunity, didn’t differ from that of someone who had originally been a count.

In these two ways then the feudal system was formed, and took possession of the state territorially, and of its functions in government. Its earliest stage of growth was that of the private possession only. Under a government too weak to preserve order, the great landowner formed his estate into a little territory which could defend itself. His smaller neighbours who needed protection came to him for it. He forced them to become his dependants in return under a great variety of forms, but especially developing thereby the precarium land tenure and the patrocinium personal service, and organizing a private jurisdiction over his tenants, and a private army for defence. Finally he secured from the king an immunity which excluded the royal officers from his lands and made him a quasi-representative of the state. In the meantime his neighbour the count had been following a similar process, and in addition he had enjoyed considerable advantages of his own. His right to exact military, financial and judicial duties for the state he had used to force men to become his dependants, and then he had stood between them and the state, freeing them from burdens which he threw with increased weight upon those who still stood outside his personal protection. In ignorance of their danger, and later in despair of getting public services adequately performed in any other way, the kings first adopted for themselves some of the forms and practices which had thus grown up, and by degrees recognized them as legally proper for all classes. It proved to be easier to hold the lord responsible for the public duties of all his dependants because he was the king’s vassal and by attaching them as conditions to the benefices which he held, than to enforce them directly upon every subject.

In these two ways, the feudal system was established, taking control of the land and the functions of government. Its earliest stage was marked by private ownership. In a government too weak to maintain order, a powerful landowner turned his estate into a small territory capable of defending itself. His smaller neighbors, who needed protection, turned to him for help. He made them his dependents in various ways, particularly through the development of land tenure known as precarium and personal service called patrocinium, while creating a private jurisdiction over his tenants and forming a private army for defense. Eventually, he obtained from the king an exemption that kept royal officials off his lands and positioned him as a quasi-representative of the state. Meanwhile, the neighboring count had been going through a similar process, enjoying significant advantages of his own. He leveraged his rights to demand military, financial, and judicial duties for the state to make men his dependents, effectively placing himself between them and the government, relieving them of burdens he increased for those outside his personal protection. Unaware of the risk they faced, and later in despair over inadequate public services, the kings began adopting some of the forms and practices that had emerged, gradually recognizing them as appropriate for all classes. It turned out to be easier to hold the lord accountable for the public duties of all his dependents because he was the king’s vassal, and by attaching these duties as conditions to the benefits he held, rather than imposing them directly on every subject.

When this stage was reached the formative age of feudalism may be considered at an end. When the government of the state had entered into feudalism, and the king was as much senior as king; when the vassal relationship was recognized as a proper and legal foundation of public duties; when the two separate sides of early feudalism were united as the almost universal rule, so that a man received a fief because he owed a vassal’s duties, or looked at in the other and finally prevailing way, that he owed a vassal’s duties because he had received a fief; and finally, when the old idea of the temporary character of the precarium tenure was lost sight of, and the right of the 300 vassal’s heir to receive his father’s holding was recognized as the general rule—then the feudal system may be called full grown. Not that the age of growth was really over. Feudal history was always a becoming, always a gradual passing from one stage to another, so long as feudalism continued to form the main organization of society. But we may say that the formative age was over when these features of the system had combined to be its characteristic marks. What follows is rather a perfection of details in the direction of logical completeness. To assign any specific date to the end of this formative age is of course impossible, but meaning by the end what has just been stated, we shall not be far wrong if we place it somewhere near the beginning of the 10th century.

When this stage was reached, the early development of feudalism can be considered complete. When the government had transitioned into a feudal structure, and the king was both a ruler and a senior lord; when the relationship between lords and vassals was recognized as the proper and legal foundation of public duties; when the two distinct aspects of early feudalism merged into an almost universal norm, such that a person received a fief because they owed vassal duties, or viewed another way, that they owed vassal duties because they had received a fief; and finally, when the old idea of the temporary nature of the precarium tenure faded away, and the right of a vassal’s heir to inherit their father’s land was accepted as the general rule—then the feudal system can be considered fully established. However, this doesn't mean the era of development was truly over. Feudal history was always evolving, gradually transitioning from one stage to another, as long as feudalism remained the main structure of society. But we can say that the formative age ended when these features of the system had come together to form its defining characteristics. What comes next is more about perfecting the details towards logical completeness. While it’s impossible to pinpoint a specific date for the end of this formative age, if we consider its conclusion as described, it wouldn't be far off to place it around the beginning of the 10th century.

Before we leave the history of feudal origins another word is necessary. We have traced a definite line of descent for feudal institutions from Roman days through the Merovingian and Carolingian ages to the 10th century. That line of descent can be made out with convincing clearness and with no particular difficulty from epoch to epoch, from the precarium and the patrocinium, through the benefice and commendation, to the fief and vassalage. But the definiteness of this line should not cause us to overlook the fact that there was during these centuries much confusion of custom and practice. All round and about this line of descent there was a crowd of varying forms branching off more or less widely from the main stem, different kinds of commendation, different forms of precarium, some of which varied greatly from that through which the fief descends, and some of which survived in much the old character and under the old name for a long time after later feudalism was definitely established.7 The variety and seeming confusion which reign in feudal society, under uniform controlling principles, rule also in the ages of beginning. It is easy to lose one’s bearings by over-emphasizing the importance of variation and exception. It is indeed true that what was the exception, the temporary offshoot, might have become the main line. It would then have produced a system which would have been feudal, in the wide sense of the term, but it would have been marked by different characteristics, it would have operated in a somewhat different way. The crowd of varying forms should not prevent us from seeing that we can trace through their confusion the line along which the characteristic traits and institutions of European feudalism, as it actually was, were growing constantly more distinct.8 That is the line of the origin of the feudal system. (See also France: Law and Institutions.)

Before we move on from the history of feudal origins, we need to address one more point. We’ve established a clear lineage for feudal institutions from Roman times through the Merovingian and Carolingian periods up to the 10th century. This lineage can be traced with clarity and without much difficulty from era to era, from the precarium and the patrocinium, through the benefice and commendation, to the fief and vassalage. However, the clarity of this lineage shouldn’t make us ignore the fact that during these centuries, there was a lot of confusion in customs and practices. All around this lineage, there were various forms branching off, differing significantly from the main line, including different types of commendation and various forms of precarium, some of which varied greatly from the fief lineage and some of which maintained much of their original character and names long after later feudalism was firmly established.7 The variety and apparent confusion present in feudal society, governed by uniform controlling principles, also characterized the early ages. It's easy to get lost by over-emphasizing the significance of variation and exception. It is true that what was once an exception, a temporary offshoot, might have turned into the main line. If that had happened, it would have led to a system that was feudal in the broader sense of the term, but it would have exhibited different traits and operated in a somewhat different manner. The multitude of varying forms shouldn’t blind us to the fact that we can navigate through their confusion to find the line where the defining features and institutions of European feudalism, as it truly existed, were becoming increasingly distinct.8 That is the line tracing the origins of the feudal system. (See also France: Law and Institutions.)

The growth which we have traced took place within the Frankish empire. When we turn to Anglo-Saxon England we find a different situation and a different result. There precarium and patrocinium were lacking. Certain Results in England. forms of personal commendation did develop, certain forms of dependent land tenure came into use. These do not show, however, the characteristic marks of the actual line of feudal descent. They belong rather in the varying forms around that line. Scholars are not yet agreed as to what would have been their result if their natural development had not been cut off by the violent introduction of Frankish feudalism with the Norman conquest, whether the historical feudal system, or a feudal system in the general sense. To the writer it seems clear that the latter is the most that can be asserted. They were forms which may rightly be called feudal, but only in the wider meaning in which we speak of the feudalism of Japan, or of Central Africa, not in the sense of 12th-century European feudalism; Saxon commendation may rightly be called vassalage, but only as looking back to the early Frankish use of the term for many varying forms of practice, not as looking forward to the later and more definite usage of completed feudalism; and such use of the terms feudal and vassalage is sure to be misleading. It is better to say that European feudalism is not to be found in England before the Conquest, not even in its beginnings. If these had really been in existence it would require no argument to show the fact. There is no trace of the distinctive marks of Frankish feudalism in Saxon England, not where military service may be thought to rest upon the land, nor even in the rare cases where the tenant seems to some to be made responsible for it, for between these cases as they are described in the original accounts, legally interpreted, and the feudal conception of the vassal’s military service, there is a great gulf.

The growth we've discussed happened within the Frankish empire. When we look at Anglo-Saxon England, we see a different situation and a different outcome. The concepts of precarium and patrocinium were absent. Certain forms of personal commendation developed, and some types of dependent land tenure emerged. However, these do not exhibit the characteristic features of true feudal descent. They fit more into the various forms surrounding that line. Scholars still disagree on what the outcome would have been if their natural development hadn't been interrupted by the sudden arrival of Frankish feudalism with the Norman conquest, whether it would have been the historical feudal system or just a general sense of feudalism. To me, it seems clear that only the latter can be asserted. They were forms that can be rightly labeled as feudal, but only in the broader context we use when discussing feudalism in Japan or Central Africa, not in the sense of 12th-century European feudalism. Saxon commendation can be accurately referred to as vassalage, but only in reference to the early Frankish usage of the term for various practices, not looking ahead to the more defined usage of completed feudalism; using the terms feudal and vassalage in this way can be misleading. It's more accurate to say that European feudalism wasn't present in England before the Conquest, not even in its early forms. If such forms had actually existed, it wouldn't require any argument to prove it. There are no signs of the distinctive aspects of Frankish feudalism in Saxon England, neither in the idea that military service is tied to land nor in the rare instances where the tenant appears to bear responsibility for it. Between these cases, as they are described in the original accounts and interpreted legally, and the feudal idea of a vassal's military service, there is a significant gap.

In turning from the origin of feudalism to a description of the completed system one is inevitably reminded of the words with which de Quincey opens the second part of his essay on style. He says: “It is a natural resource that The completed system. whatsoever we find it difficult to investigate as a result, we endeavour to follow as a growth. Failing analytically to probe its nature, historically we seek relief to our perplexities by tracing its origin.... Thus for instance when any feudal institution (be it Gothic, Norman, or Anglo-Saxon) eludes our deciphering faculty from the imperfect records of its use and operation, then we endeavour conjecturally to amend our knowledge by watching the circumstances in which that institution arose.” The temptation to use the larger part of any space allotted to the history of feudalism for a discussion of origins does not arise alone from greater interest in that phase of the subject. It is almost impossible even with the most discriminating care to give a brief account of completed feudalism and convey no wrong impression. We use the term “feudal system” for convenience sake, but with a degree of impropriety if it conveys the meaning “systematic.” Feudalism in its most flourishing age was anything but systematic. It was confusion roughly organized. Great diversity prevailed everywhere, and we should not be surprised to find some different fact or custom in every lordship. Anglo-Norman feudalism attained a logical completeness and a uniformity of practice which, in the feudal age proper, can hardly be found elsewhere through so large a territory; but in Anglo-Norman feudalism the exception holds perhaps as large a place as the regular, and the uniformity itself was due to the most serious of exceptions from the feudal point of view—centralization under a powerful monarchy.

In shifting from the origins of feudalism to a look at the established system, one can't help but think of the words with which de Quincey begins the second part of his essay on style. He states: “It is a natural resource that whatever we find difficult to investigate as a result, we try to understand it as a growth. Unable to analytically explore its nature, we historically seek relief from our confusion by tracing its origins.... For example, when any feudal institution (whether Gothic, Norman, or Anglo-Saxon) escapes our understanding due to incomplete records of its use and operation, we then try to enhance our knowledge by observing the context in which that institution emerged.” The urge to spend a significant amount of any space allocated to the history of feudalism discussing its origins doesn't stem solely from a greater interest in that aspect of the topic. It's nearly impossible, even with careful consideration, to provide a brief overview of established feudalism without giving a misleading impression. We use the term “feudal system” for convenience, but it's somewhat improper if it suggests a “systematic” nature. Feudalism at its peak was far from systematic. It was a chaotic arrangement. There was considerable diversity everywhere, and we shouldn't be surprised to find different facts or customs in every lordship. Anglo-Norman feudalism achieved a logical completeness and a uniformity of practice that is rarely found across such a large area during the proper feudal age; however, in Anglo-Norman feudalism, exceptions were perhaps as significant as the norms, and the uniformity itself was largely due to the most notable exception from a feudal perspective—centralization under a strong monarchy.

But too great emphasis upon variation conveys also a wrong impression. Underlying all the apparent confusion of fact and practice were certain fundamental principles and relationships, which were alike everywhere, and which really gave shape to everything that was feudal, no matter what its form might be. The chief of these are the following: the relation of vassal and lord; the principle that every holder of land is a tenant and not an owner, until the highest rank is reached, sometimes even the conception rules in that rank; that the tenure by which a thing of value is held is one of honourable service, not intended to be economic, but moral and political in character; the principle of mutual obligations of loyalty, protection and service binding together all the ranks of this society from the highest to the lowest; and the principle of contract between lord and tenant, as determining all rights, controlling their modification, and forming the foundation of all law. There was actually in fact and practice a larger uniformity than this short list implies, because these principles tended to express themselves in similar forms, and because historical derivation from a common source in Frankish feudalism tended to preserve some degree of uniformity in the more important usages.

But putting too much emphasis on variation also gives a misleading impression. Beneath all the apparent confusion of facts and practices were certain fundamental principles and relationships that were consistent everywhere and truly shaped everything that was feudal, regardless of its form. The main principles are as follows: the relationship between vassal and lord; the idea that everyone who holds land is a tenant and not an owner, until reaching the highest rank, and sometimes even that rank is governed by this concept; that the tenure of valuable property is based on honorable service, meant to be moral and political rather than economic; the principle of mutual obligations of loyalty, protection, and service that bind together all the ranks of this society from the highest to the lowest; and the principle of contract between lord and tenant, which defines all rights, regulates their modification, and forms the foundation of all law. In reality, there was a greater uniformity than this brief list suggests, because these principles tended to manifest in similar ways, and because the historical origins from a common source in Frankish feudalism helped maintain some degree of uniformity in the more significant practices.

The foundation of the feudal relationship proper was the fief, which was usually land, but might be any desirable thing, as an office, a revenue in money or kind, the right to collect a toll, or operate a mill. In return for the fief, the man became the vassal of his lord; he knelt before him, and, with his hands between his lord’s hands, promised him fealty and service; he rose to his feet and took the oath of fealty which bound him to the obligations he had assumed in homage; he received from his lord ceremonial investiture with the fief. The faithful performance of all the duties he had assumed in homage constituted the vassal’s right and title to his fief. So long as they were fulfilled, he, and his heir after him, held the fief as his property, practically and in relation to all under tenants as if 301 he were the owner. In the ceremony of homage and investiture, which is the creative contract of feudalism, the obligations assumed by the two parties were, as a rule, not specified in exact terms. They were determined by local custom. What they were, however, was as well known, as capable of proof, and as adequate a check on innovation by either party, as if committed to writing. In many points of detail the vassal’s services differed widely in different parts of the feudal world. We may say, however, that they fall into two classes, general and specific. The general included all that might come under the idea of loyalty, seeking the lord’s interests, keeping his secrets, betraying the plans of his enemies, protecting his family, &c. The specific services are capable of more definite statement, and they usually received exact definition in custom and sometimes in written documents. The most characteristic of these was the military service, which included appearance in the field on summons with a certain force, often armed in a specified way, and remaining a specified length of time. It often included also the duty of guarding the lord’s castle, and of holding one’s own castle subject to the plans of the lord for the defence of his fief. Hardly less characteristic was court service, which included the duty of helping to form the court on summons, of taking one’s own cases to that court instead of to some other, and of submitting to its judgments. The duty of giving the lord advice was often demanded and fulfilled in sessions of the court, and in these feudal courts the obligations of lord and vassal were enforced, with an ultimate appeal to war. Under this head may be enumerated also the financial duties of the vassal, though these were not regarded by the feudal law as of the nature of the tenure, i.e. failure to pay them did not lead to confiscation, but they were collected by suit and distraint like any debt. They did not have their origin in economic considerations, but were either intended to mark the vassal’s tenant relation, like the relief, or to be a part of his service, like the aid, that is, he was held to come to the aid of his lord in a case of financial as of military necessity. The relief was a sum paid by the heir for the lord’s recognition of his succession. The aids were paid on a few occasions, determined by custom, where the lord was put to unusual expense, as for his ransom when captured by the enemy, or for the knighting of his eldest son. There was great variety regarding the occasion and amount of these payments, and in some parts of the feudal world they did not exist at all. The most lucrative of the lord’s rights were wardship and marriage, but the feudal theory of these also was non-economic. The fief fell into the hands of the lord, and he enjoyed its revenues during the minority of the heir, because the minor could not perform the duties by which it was held. The heiress must marry as the lord wished, because he had a right to know that the holder of the fief could meet the obligations resting upon it. Both wardship and marriage were, however, valuable rights which the lord could exercise himself or sell to others. These were by no means the only rights and duties which could be described as existing in feudalism, but they are the most characteristic, and on them, or some of them, as a foundation, the whole structure of feudal obligation was built, however detailed.

The core of the feudal relationship was the fief, which was typically land but could also be anything of value, like a position, income in cash or goods, the right to collect tolls, or run a mill. In exchange for the fief, the individual became the vassal of their lord; they would kneel, place their hands between the lord's hands, and pledge loyalty and service; then they would stand and take an oath of loyalty that bound them to the responsibilities they committed to during the homage. They received ceremonial investiture from their lord for the fief. The faithful execution of all the duties taken on in homage was what gave the vassal their rights and title to the fief. As long as those duties were met, they, and their heirs, held the fief as their property, practically and in relation to all sub-tenants as if they were the owner. In the ceremonies of homage and investiture—which established the framework of feudalism—the obligations of both parties were usually not detailed explicitly. They were determined by local customs. However, their expectations were as well-known, provable, and as effective a check against changes by either party as if they had been documented in writing. In many ways, the vassal’s services varied significantly across different regions of the feudal world. Generally, they can be categorized into two groups: general and specific. General services included all aspects of loyalty, looking after the lord’s interests, keeping secrets, reporting the plans of enemies, and protecting the lord's family, among other things. Specific services were more clearly defined and usually specified in local customs or sometimes in written agreements. The most typical of these was military service, which involved showing up in battle when summoned with a certain force, often equipped in a specified manner, and remaining for a set period. This often included the responsibility of guarding the lord's castle and managing one's own castle according to the lord's defense strategies for the fief. Also quite characteristic was court service, which involved the obligation to help form the court when summoned, bring one's own cases to that court rather than another, and accept its judgments. The duty of advising the lord was often requested and given during court sessions, and in these feudal courts, the obligations of lord and vassal were enforced, ultimately escalating to war if necessary. The vassal also had financial obligations, although feudal law did not consider these part of the tenure, meaning that failing to pay them didn’t lead to loss of the fief; instead, they were collected like any debt through legal action. These payments didn’t arise from economic reasons but were meant to signify the vassal’s relationship to their tenant, like the relief paid by an heir for the lord’s acknowledgment of their succession, or aids, which were payments made during extraordinary situations determined by custom, such as when the lord needed ransom after being captured or for the knighting of his eldest son. There was significant variation regarding when and how much these payments would be, and in some regions, they didn’t exist at all. The most valuable rights of the lord were wardship and marriage, yet the feudal concept behind these was also not economic. The fief would revert to the lord, and they would collect its revenues during the heir’s minority because the minor couldn’t fulfill the required duties. The heiress had to marry according to the lord’s wishes, as he needed assurance that the new holder of the fief could meet its obligations. Both wardship and marriage were important rights that the lord could either manage themselves or sell to others. These were just a few of the rights and responsibilities existing in feudalism, but they are the most defining, and on these, or some of them, the entire framework of feudal obligations was built, no matter how complex.

Ideally regarded, feudalism covered Europe with a network of these fiefs, rising in graded ranks one above the other from the smallest, the knight’s fee, at the bottom, to the king at the top, who was the supreme landowner, or who held the kingdom from God. Actually not even in the most regular of feudal countries, like England or Germany, was there any fixed gradation of rank, titles or size. A knight might hold directly of the king, a count of a viscount, a bishop of an abbot, or the king himself of one of his own vassals, or even of a vassal’s vassal, and in return his vassal’s vassal might hold another fief directly of him. The case of the count of Champagne, one of the peers of France, is a famous example. His great territory was held only in small part of the king of France. He held a portion of a foreign sovereign, the emperor, and other portions of the duke of Burgundy, of two archbishops, of four bishops, and of the abbot of St Denis. Frequently did great lay lords, as in this case, hold lands by feudal tenure of ecclesiastics.

Ideally, feudalism spread across Europe with a network of these fiefs, arranged in ranked layers from the smallest, the knight’s fee, at the bottom, to the king at the top, who was the ultimate landowner, or held the kingdom from God. In reality, even in the most organized feudal countries, like England or Germany, there wasn't a consistent ranking of positions, titles, or sizes. A knight could hold land directly from the king, a count from a viscount, a bishop from an abbot, or the king himself could be a vassal to one of his own vassals, or even a vassal's vassal, and in return, that vassal's vassal might hold another fief directly from him. The case of the Count of Champagne, one of the peers of France, is a well-known example. His vast territory was only partially held from the king of France. He held a portion from a foreign ruler, the emperor, and other portions from the Duke of Burgundy, two archbishops, four bishops, and the Abbot of St Denis. Often, powerful lay lords, as in this instance, held land by feudal tenure from church officials.

It is now possible perhaps to get some idea of the way in which the government of a feudal country was operated. The early German governments whose chief functions, military, judicial, financial, legislative, were carried on by the freemen of the nation because they were members of the body politic, and were performed as duties owed to the community for its defence and sustenance, no longer existed. New forms of organization had arisen in which indeed these conceptions had not entirely disappeared, but in which the vast majority of cases a wholly different idea of the ground of service and obligation prevailed. Superficially, for example, the feudal court differed but little from its Teutonic predecessor. It was still an assembly court. Its procedure was almost the same as the earlier. It often included the same classes of men. Saxon Witenagemot and Norman Curia regis seem very much alike. But the members of the feudal court met, not to fulfil a duty owed to the community, but a private obligation which they had assumed in return for the fiefs they held, and in the history of institutions it is differences of this sort which are the determining principles. The feudal state was one in which, as it has been said, private law had usurped the place of public law. Public duty had become private obligation. To understand the feudal state it is essential to make clear to one’s mind that all sorts of services, which men ordinarily owe to the public or to one another, were translated into a form of rent paid for the use of land, and defined and enforced by a private contract. In every feudal country, however, something of the earlier conception survived. A general military levy was occasionally made. Something like taxation occasionally occurred, though the government was usually sustained by the scanty feudal payments, by the proceeds of justice and by the income of domain manors. About the office of king more of this earlier conception gathered than elsewhere in the state, and gradually grew, aided not merely by traditional ideas, but by the active influence of the Bible, and soon of the Roman law. The kingship formed the nucleus of new governments as the feudal system passed away.

It’s now possible to get a sense of how the government of a feudal country operated. The early German governments, whose main functions—military, judicial, financial, and legislative—were handled by the free citizens of the nation because they were part of the political community, have disappeared. New forms of organization emerged where these ideas hadn’t completely vanished, but in most cases, a completely different concept of service and obligation took over. On the surface, for instance, the feudal court was not very different from its Teutonic predecessor. It was still a gathering court. Its processes were nearly the same as before and often included the same social classes. The Saxon Witenagemot and the Norman Curia regis seem quite similar. However, the members of the feudal court came together not to fulfill a duty to the community but to meet a private obligation they had taken on in exchange for the fiefs they held, and in the history of institutions, it is these kinds of differences that are fundamental. The feudal state was one where, as has been said, private law replaced public law. Public duty had shifted to become private obligation. To understand the feudal state, it's essential to grasp that various services which people typically owe to the public or to each other were turned into a form of rent for the use of land, defined and enforced by a private contract. In every feudal country, however, something from the earlier concept persisted. A general military levy was occasionally called. Some form of taxation took place now and then, although the government was typically supported by meager feudal payments, the income from justice, and the revenue from domain manors. More of this earlier understanding was associated with the role of the king than with any other part of the state, and it gradually developed, influenced not just by traditional ideas but also by the direct impact of the Bible and soon by Roman law. The kingship became the core of new governments as the feudal system faded away.

Actual government in the feudal age was primitive and undifferentiated. Its chief and almost only organ, for kingdom and barony alike, was the curia—a court formed of the vassals. This acted at once and without any consciousness of difference of function, as judiciary, as legislature, in so far as there was any in the feudal period, and as council, and it exercised final supervision and control over revenue and administration. Almost all the institutions of modern states go back to the curia regis, branching off from it at different dates as the growing complexity of business forced differentiation of function and personnel. In action it was an assembly court, deciding all questions by discussion and the weight of opinion, though its decisions obtained their legal validity by the formal pronunciation of the presiding member, i.e. of the lord whose court it was. It can readily be seen that in a government of this kind the essential operative element was the baron. So long as the government remained dependent on the baron, it remained feudal in its character. When conditions so changed that government could free itself from its dependence on the baron, feudalism disappeared as the organization of society; when a professional class arose to form the judiciary, when the increased circulation of money made regular taxation possible and enabled the government to buy military and other services, and when better means of intercommunication and the growth of common ideas made a wide centralization possible and likely to be permanent. Feudalism had performed a great service, during an age of disintegration, by maintaining a general framework of government, while allowing the locality to protect and care for itself. When the function of protection and local supervision could be resumed by the general government the feudal age ended. In nearly all the states of Europe this end was reached during, or by the close of, the 13th century.

Actual government in the feudal age was basic and not well-defined. Its main and almost only body, for both kingdoms and baronies, was the curia—a court made up of vassals. This group acted simultaneously and without any awareness of different roles, serving as a judiciary, a legislature (as much as there was any during the feudal period), and a council. It had ultimate oversight and control over revenue and administration. Most of the institutions in modern states can be traced back to the curia regis, which branched out at various points as the increasing complexity of tasks required distinct roles and personnel. In practice, it functioned as an assembly court, resolving all issues through discussion and the influence of opinion, with its decisions gaining legal validity from the formal announcement of the leading member, i.e. the lord whose court it was. It's clear that in such a government, the crucial working element was the baron. As long as the government relied on the baron, it remained feudal in nature. When circumstances changed, allowing the government to break free from dependence on the baron, feudalism as a societal organization ended. This shift occurred with the rise of a professional class to establish the judiciary, the increased circulation of money that made regular taxation feasible, enabling the government to pay for military and other services, and the improvement of communication methods and the spread of shared ideas, which made broad centralization attainable and likely to last. Feudalism played a significant role during a time of fragmentation by maintaining a general framework for government while allowing localities to manage and protect themselves. When the general government could take back the roles of protection and local oversight, the feudal era came to a close. In nearly all European states, this change occurred during or by the end of the 13th century.

At the moment, however, when feudalism was disappearing as the organization of society, it gave rise to results which in a sense continued it into after ages and even to our own day. One of these results was the system of law which it created. Decline and survivals. 302 As feudalism passed from its age of supremacy into its age of decline, its customs tended to crystallize into fixed forms. At the same time a class of men arose interested in these forms for their own sake, professional lawyers or judges, who wrote down for their own and others’ use the feudal usages with which they were familiar. The great age of these codes was the 13th century, and especially the second half of it. The codes in their turn tended still further to harden these usages into fixed forms, and we may date from the end of the 13th century an age of feudal law regulating especially the holding and transfer of land, and much more uniform in character than the law of the feudal age proper. This was particularly the case in parts of France and Germany where feudalism continued to regulate the property relations of lords and vassals longer than elsewhere, and where the underlying economic feudalism remained in large part unchanged. In this later pseudo-feudalism, however, the political had given way to the economic, and customs which had once had no economic significance came to have that only.

At that time, as feudalism was fading as the structure of society, it led to outcomes that, in a way, carried it into later generations and even into our present day. One of these outcomes was the legal system it established. Decline and survival. 302 As feudalism transitioned from its peak to decline, its customs began to solidify into rigid forms. At the same time, a group of people emerged who were interested in these forms for their own sake—professional lawyers or judges—who documented the feudal practices they knew for their own use and for others. The height of these legal codes was in the 13th century, particularly in the latter half. The codes, in turn, further reinforced these practices into fixed standards, and we can mark the end of the 13th century as the beginning of an era of feudal law, especially governing land ownership and transfer, which was much more uniform than the law of the true feudal period. This was especially evident in parts of France and Germany, where feudalism continued to govern the relationships between lords and vassals longer than in other areas, and where the economic foundations of feudalism remained largely the same. In this later form of pseudo-feudalism, however, the political aspects had shifted to economic ones, and customs that once had no economic relevance began to acquire that significance.

Feudalism formed the starting-point also of the later social nobilities of Europe. They drew from it their titles and ranks and many of their regulative ideas, though these were formed into more definite and regular systems than ever existed in feudalism proper. It was often the policy of kings to increase the social privileges and legal exemptions of the nobility while taking away all political power, so that it is necessary in the history of institutions to distinguish sharply between these nobilities and the feudal baronage proper. It is only in certain backward parts of Europe that the terms feudal and baronage in any technical sense can be used of the nobility of the 15th century.

Feudalism was also the foundation for the later social elite in Europe. They derived their titles, ranks, and many governing ideas from it, although these evolved into more structured and formal systems than what existed in true feudalism. Kings often aimed to enhance the social privileges and legal protections of the nobility while stripping them of any political power, making it essential to clearly differentiate between these noble classes and the actual feudal barons in the study of institutions. The terms feudal and baronage can only be technically applied to the nobility of the 15th century in certain less developed regions of Europe.

(G. B. A.)

Bibliography.—For more detailed information the reader is referred to the articles English Law; France: French Law and Institutions, Villenage; Manor; Scutage; Knight Service; Hide. For a general sketch of Feudalism the chapters in tome ii. of the Histoire générale of Lavisse and Rambaud should be consulted. Other general works are J.T. Abdy, Feudalism (1890); Paul Roth, Feudalität und Unterthanverband (Weimar, 1863); and Geschichte des Beneficialwesens (1850); M.M. Kovalevsky, Ökonomische Entwickelung Europas (1902); E. de Laveleye, De la propriété et de ses formes primitives (1891); and The Origin of Property in Land, a translation by M. Ashley from the works of N.D. Fustel de Coulanges, with an introductory chapter by Professor W.J. Ashley. Two other works of value are Sir H.S. Maine, Village Communities in the East and West (1876); and Léon Gautier, La Chevalerie (Paris, 1884; Eng. trans. by Henry Frith, Chivalry, London, 1891).

References.—For more detailed information, the reader should check the articles English Law; France: French Law and Institutions, Villenage; Manor; Scutage; Knight Service; Hide. For a general overview of Feudalism, consult the chapters in tome ii. of the Histoire générale by Lavisse and Rambaud. Other general works include J.T. Abdy, Feudalism (1890); Paul Roth, Feudalität und Unterthanverband (Weimar, 1863); and Geschichte des Beneficialwesens (1850); M.M. Kovalevsky, Ökonomische Entwicklung Europas (1902); E. de Laveleye, De la propriété et de ses formes primitives (1891); and The Origin of Property in Land, a translation by M. Ashley from the works of N.D. Fustel de Coulanges, with an introductory chapter by Professor W.J. Ashley. Two other valuable works are Sir H.S. Maine, Village Communities in the East and West (1876); and Léon Gautier, La Chevalerie (Paris, 1884; Eng. trans. by Henry Frith, Chivalry, London, 1891).

For feudalism in England see the various constitutional histories, especially W. Stubbs, Constitutional History of England, vol. i. (ed. 1897). Very valuable also are the writings of Mr J.H. Round, of Professor F.W. Maitland and of Professor P. Vinogradoff. Among Round’s works may be mentioned Feudal England (1895); Geoffrey de Mandeville (1892); and Studies on the Red Book of the Exchequer (1898). Maitland’s Domesday Book and Beyond (Cambridge, 1897) is indispensable; and the same remark applies to his History of English Law before the time of Edward I. (Cambridge, 1895), written in conjunction with Sir Frederick Pollock. Vinogradoff has illuminated the subject in his Villainage in England (1892) and his English Society in the 11th century (1908). See also J.F. Baldwin, The Scutage and Knight Service in England (Chicago, 1897); Rudolf Gneist, Adel und Ritterschaft in England (1853); and F. Seebohm, The English Village Community (1883).

For feudalism in England, see various constitutional histories, especially W. Stubbs, Constitutional History of England, vol. i. (ed. 1897). The writings of Mr. J.H. Round, Professor F.W. Maitland, and Professor P. Vinogradoff are also very valuable. Among Round’s works are Feudal England (1895); Geoffrey de Mandeville (1892); and Studies on the Red Book of the Exchequer (1898). Maitland’s Domesday Book and Beyond (Cambridge, 1897) is essential; the same goes for his History of English Law before the time of Edward I. (Cambridge, 1895), which he wrote with Sir Frederick Pollock. Vinogradoff has shed light on the topic in his Villainage in England (1892) and English Society in the 11th century (1908). Also, check out J.F. Baldwin, The Scutage and Knight Service in England (Chicago, 1897); Rudolf Gneist, Adel und Ritterschaft in England (1853); and F. Seebohm, The English Village Community (1883).

For feudalism in France see N.D. Fustel de Coulanges, Histoire des institutions politiques de l’ancienne France (Les Origines du système féodal, 1890; Les Transformations de la royauté pendant l’époque carolingienne, 1892); A. Luchaire, Histoire des institutions monarchiques de la France sous les premiers Capétiens, 987-1180 (2nd ed., 1890); and Manuel des institutions françaises: période des Capétiens directs (1892); J. Flach, Les Origines de l’ancienne France (1886-1893); Paul Viollet, Droit public: Histoires des institutions politiques et administratives de la France (1890-1898); and Henri Sée, Les classes rurales et le régime domanial (1901).

For feudalism in France, see N.D. Fustel de Coulanges, Histoire des institutions politiques de l’ancienne France (Les Origines du système féodal, 1890; Les Transformations de la royauté pendant l’époque carolingienne, 1892); A. Luchaire, Histoire des institutions monarchiques de la France sous les premiers Capétiens, 987-1180 (2nd ed., 1890); and Manuel des institutions françaises: période des Capétiens directs (1892); J. Flach, Les Origines de l’ancienne France (1886-1893); Paul Viollet, Droit public: Histoires des institutions politiques et administratives de la France (1890-1898); and Henri Sée, Les classes rurales et le régime domanial (1901).

For Germany see G. Waitz, Deutsche Verfassungsgeschichte (Kiel and Berlin, 1844 foll.); H. Brunner, Grundzüge der deutschen Rechtsgeschichte (Leipzig, 1901); V. Menzel, Die Entstehung des Lebenswesens (Berlin, 1890); and G.L. von Maurer’s works on the early institutions of the Germans.

For Germany, see G. Waitz, Deutsche Verfassungsgeschichte (Kiel and Berlin, 1844 onwards); H. Brunner, Grundzüge der deutschen Rechtsgeschichte (Leipzig, 1901); V. Menzel, Die Entstehung des Lebenswesens (Berlin, 1890); and G.L. von Maurer’s works on the early institutions of the Germans.


1 Digest, xliii. 26. 12.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Digest, 43. 26. 12.

2 Ibid. xliii. 26. 14, and cf. 17.

2 Ibid. xliii. 26. 14, and cf. 17.

3 Salvian, De gub. Dei, v. 8, ed. Halm, p. 62.

3 Salvian, De gub. Dei, v. 8, ed. Halm, p. 62.

4 H. Brunner, Zeitschr. der sav. Stift. für Rechtsgeschichte, Germ. Abth. viii. 1-38 (1887). Also in his Forschungen, 39-74 (1894).

4 H. Brunner, Journal of the Sav. Stift. for Legal History, Germ. Abth. viii. 1-38 (1887). Also in his Research, 39-74 (1894).

5 See F. Dahn, Könige der Germanen, viii. 2, 90 ff.

5 See F. Dahn, Kings of the Germans, viii. 2, 90 ff.

6 F. Dahn, Könige der Germanen, viii. 2, 197.

6 F. Dahn, Kings of the Germans, viii. 2, 197.

7 G. Waitz, Deutsche Verfassungsgeschichte, vi. 112 ff. (1896). Most fully described in G. Seeliger, Die soziale u. politische Bedeutung d. Grundherrschaft im früheren Mittelalter (1903).

7 G. Waitz, German Constitutional History, vi. 112 ff. (1896). Most thoroughly explained in G. Seeliger, The Social and Political Significance of Lordship in the Early Middle Ages (1903).

8 F. Dahn, Könige, viii. 2, 89-90; 95.

8 F. Dahn, Könige, viii. 2, 89-90; 95.


FEUERBACH, ANSELM (1829-1880), German painter, born at Spires, the son of a well-known archaeologist, was the leading classicist painter of the German 19th-century school. He was the first to realize the danger arising from contempt of technique, that mastery of craftsmanship was needed to express even the loftiest ideas, and that an ill-drawn coloured cartoon can never be the supreme achievement in art. After having passed through the art schools of Düsseldorf and Munich, he went to Antwerp and subsequently to Paris, where he benefited by the teaching of Couture, and produced his first masterpiece, “Hafiz at the Fountain” in 1852. He subsequently worked at Karlsruhe, Venice (where he fell under the spell of the greatest school of colourists), Rome and Vienna. He was steeped in classic knowledge, and his figure compositions have the statuesque dignity and simplicity of Greek art. Disappointed with the reception given in Vienna to his design of “The Fall of the Titans” for the ceiling of the Museum of Modelling, he went to live in Venice, where he died in 1880. His works are to be found at the leading public galleries of Germany; Stuttgart has his “Iphigenia”; Karlsruhe, the “Dante at Ravenna”; Munich, the “Medea”; and Berlin, “The Concert,” his last important picture. Among his chief works are also “The Battle of the Amazons,” “Pietà,” “The Symposium of Plato,” “Orpheus and Eurydice” and “Ariosto in the Park of Ferrara.”

FEUERBACH, ANSELM (1829-1880), a German painter born in Spires, was the son of a well-known archaeologist and the leading classicist painter of the 19th-century German school. He was the first to recognize the risks of underestimating technique, understanding that mastery of craftsmanship was essential to convey even the highest ideas, and that a poorly drawn colored sketch can never be the pinnacle of art. After studying at the art schools in Düsseldorf and Munich, he moved to Antwerp and later to Paris, where he learned from Couture and created his first masterpiece, “Hafiz at the Fountain” in 1852. He then worked in Karlsruhe, Venice (where he was influenced by the greatest colorist school), Rome, and Vienna. Deeply knowledgeable about classical art, his figure compositions display the dignified and simple style characteristic of Greek art. Disappointed by the reception of his design for “The Fall of the Titans” for the ceiling of the Museum of Modelling in Vienna, he settled in Venice, where he passed away in 1880. His works are housed in the major public galleries of Germany; Stuttgart features his “Iphigenia,” Karlsruhe has “Dante at Ravenna,” Munich showcases “Medea,” and Berlin holds “The Concert,” his last significant painting. Among his most notable works are also “The Battle of the Amazons,” “Pietà,” “The Symposium of Plato,” “Orpheus and Eurydice,” and “Ariosto in the Park of Ferrara.”


FEUERBACH, LUDWIG ANDREAS (1804-1872), German philosopher, fourth son of the eminent jurist (see below), was born at Landshut in Bavaria on the 28th of July 1804. He matriculated at Heidelberg with the intention of pursuing an ecclesiastical career. Through the influence of Prof. Daub he was led to an interest in the then predominant philosophy of Hegel and, in spite of his father’s opposition, went to Berlin to study under the master himself. After two years’ discipleship the Hegelian influence began to slacken. “Theology,” he wrote to a friend, “I can bring myself to study no more. I long to take nature to my heart, that nature before whose depth the faint-hearted theologian shrinks back; and with nature man, man in his entire quality.” These words are a key to Feuerbach’s development. He completed his education at Erlangen with the study of natural science. His first book, published anonymously, Gedanken über Tod und Unsterblichkeit (1830, 3rd ed. 1876), contains an attack upon personal immortality and an advocacy of the Spinozistic immortality of reabsorption in nature. These principles, combined with his embarrassed manner of public speaking, debarred him from academic advancement. After some years of struggling, during which he published his Geschichte der neueren Philosophie (2 vols., 1833-1837, 2nd ed. 1844), and Abälard und Heloise (1834, 3rd ed. 1877), he married in 1837 and lived a rural existence at Bruckberg near Nuremberg, supported by his wife’s share in a small porcelain factory. In two works of this period, Pierre Bayle (1838) and Philosophie und Christentum (1839), which deal largely with theology, he held that he had proved “that Christianity has in fact long vanished not only from the reason but from the life of mankind, that it is nothing more than a fixed idea” in flagrant contradiction to the distinctive features of contemporary civilization. This attack is followed up in his most important work, Das Wesen des Christentums (1841), which was translated into English (The Essence of Religion, by George Eliot, 1853, 2nd ed. 1881), French and Russian. Its aim may be described shortly as an effort to humanize theology. He lays it down that man, so far as he is rational, is to himself his own object of thought. Religion is consciousness of the infinite. Religion therefore is “nothing else than the consciousness of the infinity of the consciousness; or, in the consciousness of the infinite, the conscious subject has for his object the infinity of his own nature.” Thus God is nothing else than man: he is, so to speak, the outward projection of man’s inward nature. In part 1 of his book he develops what he calls the “true or anthropological essence of religion.” Treating of God in his various aspects “as a being of the understanding,” “as a moral being or law,” “as love” and so on, Feuerbach shows that in every aspect God corresponds to some feature or need of human nature. “If man is to find contentment in God, he must find himself in God.” In part 2 he discusses the “false or theological essence of religion,” i.e. the view which regards God as having a separate existence over against man. Hence arise various mistaken beliefs, such as the belief in revelation which not only injures the moral 303 sence, but also “poisons, nay destroys, the divinest feeling in man, the sense of truth,” and the belief in sacraments such as the Lord’s Supper, a piece of religious materialism of which “the necessary consequences are superstition and immorality.” In spite of many admirable qualities both of style and matter the Essence of Christianity has never made much impression upon British thought. To treat the actual forms of religion as expressions of our various human needs is a fruitful idea which deserves fuller development than it has yet received; but Feuerbach’s treatment of it is fatally vitiated by his subjectivism. Feuerbach denied that he was rightly called an atheist, but the denial is merely verbal: what he calls “theism” is atheism in the ordinary sense. Feuerbach labours under the same difficulty as Fichte; both thinkers strive in vain to reconcile the religious consciousness with subjectivism.

FEUERBACH, LUDWIG ANDREAS (1804-1872), German philosopher and the fourth son of a well-known jurist (see below), was born in Landshut, Bavaria, on July 28, 1804. He enrolled at Heidelberg intending to pursue a religious career. Influenced by Prof. Daub, he developed an interest in Hegel’s dominant philosophy and, despite his father's opposition, went to Berlin to study under Hegel himself. After two years of following him, the Hegelian influence began to wane. “Theology,” he wrote to a friend, “I can no longer bring myself to study. I yearn to embrace nature, that nature which makes the timid theologian shrink away; and with nature, mankind, in all its complexity.” These words are key to understanding Feuerbach’s development. He completed his education at Erlangen by studying natural sciences. His first book, published anonymously, Gedanken über Tod und Unsterblichkeit (1830, 3rd ed. 1876), criticizes personal immortality and promotes the Spinozistic view of immortality through reabsorption into nature. These ideas, combined with his awkward public speaking, prevented him from advancing in academia. After struggling for several years, during which he published Geschichte der neueren Philosophie (2 vols., 1833-1837, 2nd ed. 1844) and Abälard und Heloise (1834, 3rd ed. 1877), he got married in 1837 and lived a rural life in Bruckberg near Nuremberg, supported by his wife’s share in a small porcelain factory. In two works from this period, Pierre Bayle (1838) and Philosophie und Christentum (1839), which largely focus on theology, he argued that “Christianity has effectively long since disappeared, not only from reason but from the lives of people; it is just a fixed idea,” which stands in stark contradiction to the defining elements of contemporary society. This criticism carries into his most significant work, Das Wesen des Christentums (1841), which was translated into English (The Essence of Religion, by George Eliot, 1853, 2nd ed. 1881), as well as French and Russian. Its aim can be briefly described as an effort to humanize theology. He asserts that man, as far as he is rational, is his own object of thought. Religion is the awareness of the infinite. Therefore, religion is “nothing but the awareness of the infinity of consciousness; or, in the consciousness of the infinite, the conscious subject recognizes the infinity of his own nature.” Thus, God is nothing more than humanity: he is, so to speak, an outward reflection of man's inner nature. In part 1 of his book, he develops what he calls the “true or anthropological essence of religion.” Discussing God in various aspects—“as a being of understanding,” “as a moral being or law,” “as love,” and so on—Feuerbach illustrates that in every aspect, God corresponds to some characteristic or need of human nature. “If man is to find satisfaction in God, he must discover himself in God.” In part 2, he explores the “false or theological essence of religion,” i.e. the view that sees God as existing separately from man. This leads to various misconceptions, such as the belief in revelation, which not only damages moral sensibilities but also “poisons, even destroys, man's most divine feeling, the sense of truth,” and the belief in sacraments like the Lord’s Supper, a form of religious materialism that leads to “superstition and immorality.” Despite its commendable qualities in both style and content, the Essence of Christianity has never made a significant impact on British thought. Approaching the actual forms of religion as expressions of our different human needs is a valuable idea that deserves more exploration than it has received; however, Feuerbach's approach is fundamentally flawed by his subjectivism. Feuerbach denied that he should be labeled an atheist, but this denial is merely semantic: what he refers to as “theism” is atheism in the traditional sense. Feuerbach faces the same challenge as Fichte; both thinkers struggle in vain to reconcile religious consciousness with subjectivism.

During the troubles of 1848-1849 Feuerbach’s attack upon orthodoxy made him something of a hero with the revolutionary party; but he never threw himself into the political movement, and indeed had not the qualities of a popular leader. During the period of the diet of Frankfort he had given public lectures on religion at Heidelberg. When the diet closed he withdrew to Bruckberg and occupied himself partly with scientific study, partly with the composition of his Theogonie (1857). In 1860 he was compelled by the failure of the porcelain factory to leave Bruckberg, and he would have suffered the extremity of want but for the assistance of friends supplemented by a public subscription. His last book, Gottheit, Freiheit und Unsterblichkeit, appeared in 1866 (2nd ed., 1890). After a long period of decay he died on the 13th of September 1872.

During the upheaval of 1848-1849, Feuerbach’s critique of traditional beliefs made him a bit of a hero among the revolutionaries; however, he never fully engaged in the political movement and lacked the traits of a popular leader. During the time of the Frankfurt Assembly, he had given public lectures on religion in Heidelberg. After the assembly ended, he retreated to Bruckberg, where he focused on scientific research and worked on his book Theogonie (1857). In 1860, he was forced to leave Bruckberg due to the porcelain factory's failure, and he faced severe hardship until friends and public donations helped him out. His final book, Gottheit, Freiheit und Unsterblichkeit, was published in 1866 (2nd ed., 1890). After a long decline, he passed away on September 13, 1872.

Feuerbach’s influence has been greatest upon the anti-Christian theologians such as D.F. Strauss, the author of the Leben Jesu, and Bruno Bauer, who like Feuerbach himself had passed over from Hegelianism to a form of naturalism. But many of his ideas were taken up by those who, like Arnold Ruge, had entered into the struggle between church and state in Germany, and those who, like F. Engels and Karl Marx, were leaders in the revolt of labour against the power of capital. His work was too deliberately unsystematic (“keine Philosophie ist meine Philosophie”) ever to make him a power in philosophy. He expressed in an eager, disjointed, but condensed and laboured fashion, certain deep-lying convictions—that philosophy must come back from unsubstantial metaphysics to the solid facts of human nature and natural science, that the human body was no less important than the human spirit (“Der Mensch ist was er isst”) and that Christianity was utterly out of harmony with the age. His convictions gained weight from the simplicity, uprightness and diligence of his character; but they need a more effective justification than he was able to give them.

Feuerbach had the biggest impact on anti-Christian theologians like D.F. Strauss, who wrote Leben Jesu, and Bruno Bauer, who, like Feuerbach, transitioned from Hegelianism to a type of naturalism. However, many of his ideas were adopted by figures like Arnold Ruge, who engaged in the conflict between church and state in Germany, and by leaders in the labor movement like F. Engels and Karl Marx, who fought against the power of capital. His work was too intentionally unstructured (“no philosophy is my philosophy”) to ever establish him as a significant force in philosophy. He conveyed, in an enthusiastic, fragmented, yet concise manner, certain deep-seated beliefs—that philosophy needs to return from vague metaphysics to the solid realities of human nature and natural science, that the human body is just as important as the human spirit (“Man is what he eats”), and that Christianity was completely out of sync with the times. His beliefs gained credibility from the simplicity, integrity, and diligence of his character, but they required a stronger justification than he could provide.

His works appeared in 10 vols. (Leipzig, 1846-1866); his correspondence has been edited with an indifferent biography by Karl Grün (1874). See A. Lévy, La Philosophie de Feuerbach (1904); M. Meyer, L. Feuerbach’s Moralphilosophie (Berlin, 1899); E. v. Hartmann, Geschichte d. Metaphysik (Leipzig, 1899-1900), ii. 437-444: F. Engels, L. Feuerbach und d. Ausgang d. class, deutsch. Philos. (2nd ed., 1895).

His works were published in 10 volumes (Leipzig, 1846-1866); his correspondence has been compiled with a mediocre biography by Karl Grün (1874). See A. Lévy, La Philosophie de Feuerbach (1904); M. Meyer, L. Feuerbach’s Moralphilosophie (Berlin, 1899); E. v. Hartmann, Geschichte d. Metaphysik (Leipzig, 1899-1900), ii. 437-444; F. Engels, L. Feuerbach und d. Ausgang d. class, deutsch. Philos. (2nd ed., 1895).

(H. St.)

FEUERBACH, PAUL JOHANN ANSELM, Ritter von (1775-1833), German jurist and writer on criminal law, was born at Hainichen near Jena on the 14th of November 1775. He received his early education at Frankfort on Main, whither his family had removed soon after his birth. At the age of sixteen, however, he ran away from home, and, going to Jena, was helped by relations there to study at the university. In spite of poor health and the most desperate poverty, he made rapid progress. He attended the lectures of Karl Leonhard Reinhold and Gottlieb Hufeland, and soon published some literary essays of more than ordinary merit. In 1795 he took the degree of doctor in philosophy, and in the same year, though he only possessed 150 thalers (£22 : 10s.), he married. It was this step which led him to success and fame, by forcing him to turn from his favourite studies of philosophy and history to that of law, which was repugnant to him, but which offered a prospect of more rapid advancement. His success in this new and uncongenial sphere was soon assured. In 1796 he published Kritik des natürlichen Rechts als Propädeutik zu einer Wissenschaft der natürlichen Rechte, which was followed, in 1798, by Anti-Hobbes, oder über die Grenzen der bürgerlichen Gewalt, a dissertation on the limits of the civil power and the right of resistance on the part of subjects against their rulers, and by Philosophische, juristische Untersuchungen über das Verbrechen des Hochverraths. In 1799 he obtained the degree of doctor of laws. Feuerbach, as the founder of a new theory of penal law, the so-called “psychological-coercive or intimidation theory,” occupied a prominent place in the history of criminal science. His views, which he first made known in his Revision der Grundsätze und Grundbegriffe des positiven peinlichen Rechts (1799), were further elucidated and expounded in the Bibliothek für die peinliche Rechtswissenschaft (1800-1801), an encyclopaedic work produced in conjunction with Karl L.W.G. Grolmann and Ludwig Harscher von Almendingen, and in his famous Lehrbuch des gemeinen in Deutschland geltenden peinlichen Rechts (1801). These works were a powerful protest against vindictive punishment, and did much towards the reformation of the German criminal law. The Carolina (the penal code of the emperor Charles V.) had long since ceased to be respected. What in 1532 was an inestimable blessing, as a check upon the arbitrariness and violence of the effete German procedure, had in the course of time outlived its usefulness and become a source of evils similar to those it was enacted to combat. It availed nothing that, at the commencement of the 18th century, a freer and more scientific spirit had been breathed into Roman law; it failed to reach the criminal law. The administration of justice was, before Feuerbach’s time, especially distinguished by two characteristics: the superiority of the judge to all law, and the blending of the judicial and executive offices, with the result that the individual was practically at the mercy of his prosecutors. This state of things Feuerbach set himself to reform, and using as his chief weapon the Revision der Grundbegriffe above referred to, was successful in his task. His achievement in the struggle may be summed up as: nullum crimen, nulla poena sine lege (no wrong and no punishment without a remedy). In 1801 Feuerbach was appointed extraordinary professor of law without salary, at the university of Jena, and in the following year accepted a chair at Kiel, where he remained two years. In 1804 he removed to the university of Landshut; but on being commanded by King Maximilian Joseph to draft a penal code for Bavaria (Strafgesetzbuch für das Königreich Bayern), he removed in 1805 to Munich, where he was given a high appointment in the ministry of justice and was ennobled in 1808. Meanwhile the practical reform of penal legislation in Bavaria was begun under his influence in 1806 by the abolition of torture. In 1808 appeared the first volume of his Merkwürdige Criminalfälle, completed in 1811—a work of deep interest for its application of psychological considerations to cases Of crime, and intended to illustrate the inevitable imperfection of human laws in their application to individuals. In his Betrachtungen über das Geschworenengericht (1811) Feuerbach declared against trial by jury, maintaining that the verdict of a jury was not adequate legal proof of a crime. Much controversy was aroused on the subject, and the author’s view was subsequently to some extent modified. The result of his labours was promulgated in 1813 as the Bavarian penal code. The influence of this code, the embodiment of Feuerbach’s enlightened views, was immense. It was at once made the basis for new codes in Württemberg and Saxe-Weimar; it was adopted in its entirety in the grand-duchy of Oldenburg; and it was translated into Swedish by order of the king. Several of the Swiss cantons reformed their codes in conformity with it. Feuerbach had also undertaken to prepare a civil code for Bavaria, to be founded on the Code Napoléon. This was afterwards set aside, and the Codex Maximilianus adopted as a basis. But the project did not become law. During the war of liberation (1813-1814) Feuerbach showed himself an ardent patriot, and published several political brochures which, from the writer’s position, had almost the weight of state manifestoes. One of these is entitled Über deutsche Freiheit und Vertretung deutsche Volker durch Landstände (1514). In 1814 Feuerbach was appointed second president 304 of the court of appeal at Bamberg, and three years later he became first president of the court of appeal at Anspach. In 1821 he was deputed by the government to visit France, Belgium, and the Rhine provinces for the purpose of investigating their juridical institutions. As the fruit of this visit, he published his treatises Betrachtungen über Öffentlichkeit und Mündigkeit der Gerechtigkeitspflege (1821) and Über die Gerichtsverfassung und das gerichtliche Verfahren Frankreichs (1825). In these he pleaded unconditionally for publicity in all legal proceedings. In his later years he took a deep interest in the fate of the strange foundling Kaspar Hauser (q.v.), which had excited so much attention in Europe; and he was the first to publish a critical summary of the ascertained facts, under the title of Kaspar Hauser, ein Beispiel eines Verbrechens am Seelenleben (1832). Shortly before his death appeared a collection of his Kleine Schriften (1833). Feuerbach, still in the full enjoyment of his intellectual powers, died suddenly at Frankfort, while on his way to the baths of Schwalbach, on the 29th of May 1833. In 1853 was published the Leben und Wirken Ans. von Feuerbachs, 2 vols., consisting of a selection of his letters and journals, with occasional notes by his fourth son Ludwig, the distinguished philosopher.

FEUERBACH, PAUL JOHANN ANSELM, Knight of (1775-1833), German lawyer and writer on criminal law, was born in Hainichen near Jena on November 14, 1775. He received his early education in Frankfurt am Main, where his family moved shortly after his birth. However, at sixteen, he ran away from home and, with help from family members in Jena, was able to study at the university. Despite facing poor health and desperate poverty, he made quick progress. He attended lectures by Karl Leonhard Reinhold and Gottlieb Hufeland and soon published some noteworthy literary essays. In 1795, he earned his doctorate in philosophy and, that same year, married even though he only had 150 thalers (£22 : 10s.). This decision pushed him toward success and recognition by forcing him to shift from his beloved studies in philosophy and history to law, which he found unappealing but presented a quicker path to advancement. His success in this unfamiliar field came soon after. In 1796, he published Kritik des natürlichen Rechts als Propädeutik zu einer Wissenschaft der natürlichen Rechte, followed by Anti-Hobbes, oder über die Grenzen der bürgerlichen Gewalt in 1798, a dissertation on the limits of civil authority and the subjects' right to resist their rulers, and Philosophische, juristische Untersuchungen über das Verbrechen des Hochverraths. In 1799, he earned his doctorate in law. Feuerbach, known as the founder of a new theory of penal law—known as the "psychological-coercive or intimidation theory"—held a significant position in the history of criminal science. He first expressed his ideas in Revision der Grundsätze und Grundbegriffe des positiven peinlichen Rechts (1799), which were further explained in Bibliothek für die peinliche Rechtswissenschaft (1800-1801), an encyclopedic work he created with Karl L.W.G. Grolmann and Ludwig Harscher von Almendingen, and in his renowned Lehrbuch des gemeinen in Deutschland geltenden peinlichen Rechts (1801). These works powerfully opposed vindictive punishment and contributed to reforming German criminal law. The Carolina (the penal code of Emperor Charles V) had long been disregarded. What was an invaluable safeguard against the arbitrary and violent practices of outdated German procedure in 1532 became over time a source of issues similar to those it aimed to eliminate. Although a more liberal and scientific spirit had entered Roman law by the early 18th century, it did not reach the criminal law. The administration of justice before Feuerbach's time was notably characterized by two main traits: the judge's authority over all law, and the merging of judicial and executive roles, which left individuals nearly at the mercy of their prosecutors. Feuerbach sought to reform this situation, and using his main tool, the aforementioned Revision der Grundbegriffe, he succeeded. His achievement in the struggle can be summed up as: nullum crimen, nulla poena sine lege (no wrongdoing and no punishment without a law). In 1801, Feuerbach was appointed a non-salaried extraordinary professor of law at the University of Jena, and the following year he accepted a position at Kiel, where he stayed for two years. In 1804, he moved to the University of Landshut; but when ordered by King Maximilian Joseph to draft a penal code for Bavaria (Strafgesetzbuch für das Königreich Bayern), he relocated to Munich in 1805, where he received a high position in the Ministry of Justice and was ennobled in 1808. Meanwhile, he helped initiate practical reforms in Bavaria's penal legislation beginning in 1806 with the abolition of torture. In 1808, he published the first volume of his Merkwürdige Criminalfälle, completed in 1811—an intriguing work that applied psychological insights to criminal cases and aimed to highlight the inevitable shortcomings of human laws when applied to individuals. In his Betrachtungen über das Geschworenengericht (1811), Feuerbach opposed trial by jury, arguing that a jury's verdict was not sufficient legal evidence of a crime. This sparked considerable debate, and the author's perspective was later somewhat revised. His efforts culminated in the 1813 promulgation of the Bavarian penal code. This code, reflecting Feuerbach's progressive ideas, had a tremendous influence. It quickly became the foundation for new codes in Württemberg and Saxe-Weimar; it was fully adopted in the Grand Duchy of Oldenburg; and it was translated into Swedish by royal decree. Several Swiss cantons also revised their codes accordingly. Feuerbach also planned to create a civil code for Bavaria, based on the Code Napoléon, but this was eventually abandoned in favor of using the Codex Maximilianus as a reference. However, the project never became law. During the War of Liberation (1813-1814), Feuerbach proved himself a passionate patriot, publishing several political pamphlets that, due to the author's position, held almost the weight of state declarations. One of these is titled Über deutsche Freiheit und Vertretung deutsche Volker durch Landstände (1814). In 1814, Feuerbach was appointed the second president of the court of appeal in Bamberg, and three years later, he became the first president of the court of appeal in Anspach. In 1821, the government commissioned him to visit France, Belgium, and the Rhine provinces to investigate their legal systems. The results of this visit were documented in his works Betrachtungen über Öffentlichkeit und Mündigkeit der Gerechtigkeitspflege (1821) and Über die Gerichtsverfassung und das gerichtliche Verfahren Frankreichs (1825), in which he unconditionally advocated for transparency in all legal proceedings. In his later years, he became deeply interested in the fate of the unusual foundling Kaspar Hauser (q.v.), which had captured significant attention throughout Europe; he was the first to publish a critical summary of the known facts, under the title Kaspar Hauser, ein Beispiel eines Verbrechens am Seelenleben (1832). Shortly before his death, a collection of his Kleine Schriften (1833) was released. Feuerbach, still in the full enjoyment of his intellectual abilities, died unexpectedly in Frankfurt while on his way to the spas in Schwalbach on May 29, 1833. In 1853, Leben und Wirken Ans. von Feuerbachs was published in two volumes, comprising a selection of his letters and journals, accompanied by occasional notes from his fourth son Ludwig, a prominent philosopher.

See also, for an estimate of Feuerbach’s life and work, Marquardtsen, in Allgemeine deutsche Biographie, vol. vi.; and an “in memoriam” notice in Die allgemeine Zeitung (Augsburg), 15th Nov. 1875, by Professor Dr Karl Binding of Leipzig University.

See also, for an overview of Feuerbach’s life and work, Marquardtsen, in Allgemeine deutsche Biographie, vol. vi.; and a tribute in Die allgemeine Zeitung (Augsburg), November 15, 1875, by Professor Dr. Karl Binding of Leipzig University.


FEUILLANTS, CLUB OF THE, a political association which played a prominent part during the French Revolution. It was founded on the 16th of July 1791 by several members of the Jacobin Club, who refused to sign a petition presented by this body, demanding the deposition of Louis XVI. Among the dissident members were B. Barère; and E.J. Sieyès, who were later joined by other politicians, among them being Dupont de Nemours. The name of Feuillants was popularly given to this group of men, because they met in the fine buildings which had been occupied by the religious order bearing this name, in the rue Saint-Honoré, near the Place Vendôme, in Paris. The members of the club preserved the title of Amis de la Constitution, as being a sufficient indication of the line they intended to pursue. This consisted in opposing everything not contained in the Constitution; in their opinion, the latter was in need of no modification, and they hated alike all those who were opposed to it, whether émigrés or Jacobins; they affected to avoid all political discussion, and called themselves merely a “conservative assembly.”

FEUILLANTS, CLUB OF THE, a political group that played a significant role during the French Revolution. It was established on July 16, 1791, by several members of the Jacobin Club who refused to sign a petition from that group demanding the removal of Louis XVI. Among the dissenting members were B. Barère and E.J. Sieyès, later joined by other politicians, including Dupont de Nemours. The name Feuillants was popularly used for this group because they gathered in the impressive buildings previously occupied by the religious order of the same name, located on rue Saint-Honoré, near Place Vendôme in Paris. The club members kept the title Amis de la Constitution as a clear indication of their intended course. This was to oppose anything not included in the Constitution; in their view, it didn’t need any changes, and they despised anyone who opposed it, whether they were émigrés or Jacobins. They claimed to avoid all political debates and referred to themselves simply as a "conservative assembly."

This attitude they maintained after the Constituent Assembly had been succeeded by the Legislative, but not many of the new deputies became members of the club. With the rapid growth of extreme democratic ideas the Feuillants soon began to be looked upon as reactionaries, and to be classed with “aristocrats.” They did, indeed, represent the aristocracy of wealth, for they had to pay a subscription of four louis, a large sum at that time, besides six livres for attendance. Moreover, the luxury with which they surrounded themselves, and the restaurant which they had annexed to their club, seemed to mock the misery of the half-starved proletariat, and added to the suspicion with which they were viewed, especially after the popular triumphs of the 20th of June and the 10th of August 1792 (see French Revolution). A few days after the insurrection of the 10th of August, the papers of the Feuillants were seized, and a list was published containing the names of 841 members proclaimed as suspects. This was the death-blow of the club. It had made an attempt, though a weak one, to oppose the forward march of the Revolution, but, unlike the Jacobins, had never sent out branches into the provinces. The name of Feuillants, as a party designation, survived the club. It was applied to those who advocated a policy of “cowardly moderation,” and feuillantisme was associated with aristocratie in the mouths of the sansculottes.

This attitude continued even after the Constituent Assembly was replaced by the Legislative Assembly, but not many of the new deputies joined the club. As extreme democratic ideas quickly gained traction, the Feuillants soon began to be seen as reactionaries and associated with “aristocrats.” They did represent the wealthy elite, as they had to pay a membership fee of four louis, which was a significant amount at that time, plus six livres for attending. Additionally, the luxury they surrounded themselves with, along with the restaurant they had attached to their club, seemed to mock the suffering of the impoverished working class, increasing the suspicion directed at them, especially after the popular victories of June 20 and August 10, 1792 (see French Revolution). A few days after the insurrection on August 10, the Feuillants' newspapers were confiscated, and a list was published naming 841 members labeled as suspects. This marked the club's downfall. They made a feeble attempt to resist the Revolution's progress, but unlike the Jacobins, they never established branches in the provinces. The name Feuillants continued as a political label, referring to those who promoted a strategy of “cowardly moderation,” and feuillantisme became linked with aristocratie in the eyes of the sans-culottes.

The act of separation of the Feuillants from the Jacobins was published in a pamphlet dated the 16th of July 1791, beginning with the words, Les Membres de l’assemblée nationale ... (Paris, 1791). The statutes of the club were also published in Paris. See also A. Aulard, Histoire politique de la Révolution française (Paris, 1903), 2nd ed., p. 153.

The separation of the Feuillants from the Jacobins was announced in a pamphlet dated July 16, 1791, starting with the words, Les Membres de l’assemblée nationale ... (Paris, 1791). The club's rules were also published in Paris. For more information, see A. Aulard, Histoire politique de la Révolution française (Paris, 1903), 2nd ed., p. 153.


FEUILLET, OCTAVE (1821-1890), French novelist and dramatist, was born at Saint-Lô, Manche, on the 11th of August 1821. He was the son of a Norman gentleman of learning and distinction, who would have played a great part in politics “sans ses diables de nerfs,” as Guizot said. This nervous excitability was inherited, though not to the same excess, by Octave, whose mother died in his infancy and left him to the care of the hyper-sensitive invalid. The boy was sent to the lycée Louis-le Grand, in Paris, where he achieved high distinction, and was destined for the diplomatic service. In 1840 he appeared before his father at Saint-Lô, and announced that he had determined to adopt the profession of literature. There was a stormy scene, and the elder Feuillet cut off his son, who returned to Paris and lived as best he could by a scanty journalism. In company with Paul Bocage he began to write for the stage, and not without success; at all events, he continued to exist until, three years after the quarrel, his father consented to forgive him. Enjoying a liberal allowance, he now lived in Paris in comfort and independence, and he published his early novels, none of which is quite of sufficient value to retain the modern reader. The health and spirits of the elder M. Feuillet, however, having still further declined, he summoned his son to leave Paris and bury himself as his constant attendant in the melancholy château at Saint-Lô. This was to demand a great sacrifice, but Octave Feuillet cheerfully obeyed the summons. In 1851 he married his cousin, Mlle Valérie Feuillet, who helped him to endure the mournful captivity to which his filial duty bound him. Strangely enough, in this exile—rendered still more irksome by his father’s mania for solitude and by his tyrannical temper—the genius of Octave Feuillet developed. His first definite success was gained in the year 1852, when he published the novel Bellah and produced the comedy La Crise. Both were reprinted from the Revue des deux mondes, where many of his later novels also appeared. He wrote books which have long held their place, La Petite Comtesse (1857), Dalila (1857), and in particular that universal favourite, Le Roman d’un jeune homme pauvre (1858). He himself fell into a nervous state in his “prison,” but he was sustained by the devotion and intelligence of his wife and her mother. In 1857, having been persuaded to make a play of the novel of Dalila, he brought out this piece at the Vaudeville, and enjoyed a brilliant success; on this occasion he positively broke through the consigne and went up to Paris to see his play rehearsed. His father bore the shock of his temporary absence, and the following year Octave ventured to make the same experiment on occasion of the performance of Un Jeune Homme pauvre. To his infinite chagrin, during this brief absence his father died. Octave was now, however, free, and the family immediately moved to Paris, where they took part in the splendid social existence of the Second Empire. The elegant and distinguished young novelist became a favourite at court; his pieces were performed at Compiègne before they were given to the public, and on one occasion the empress Eugénie deigned to play the part of Mme de Pons in Les Portraits de la Marquise. Feuillet did not abandon the novel, and in 1862 he achieved a great success with Sibylle. His health, however, had by this time begun to decline, affected by the sad death of his eldest son. He determined to quit Paris, where the life was far too exciting for his nerves, and to regain the quietude of Normandy. The old château of the family had been sold, but he bought a house called “Les Paillers” in the suburbs of Saint-Lô, and there he lived, buried in his roses, for fifteen years. He was elected to the French Academy in 1862, and in 1868 he was made librarian of Fontainebleau palace, where he had to reside for a month or two in each year. In 1867 he produced his masterpiece of Monsieur de Camors, and in 1872 he wrote Julia de Tréœur, which is hardly less admirable. His last years, after the sale of “Les Paillers,” were passed in a ceaseless wandering, the result of the agitation of his nerves. He was broken by sorrow and by ill-health, and when he passed away in Paris on the 29th of December 1890, his death was a release. His last book was Honneur d’artiste (1890). Among the too-numerous writings of Feuillet, the novels have lasted longer than the dramas; 305 of the former three or four seem destined to retain their charm as classics. He holds a place midway between the romanticists and the realists, with a distinguished and lucid portraiture of life which is entirely his own. He drew the women of the world whom he saw around him with dignity, with indulgence, with extraordinary penetration and clairvoyance. There is little description in his novels, which sometimes seem to move on an almost bare and colourless stage, but, on the other hand, the analysis of motives, of emotions, and of “the fine shades” has rarely been carried further. Few have written French with greater purity than Feuillet, and his style, reserved in form and never excessive in ornament, but full of wit and delicate animation, is in admirable uniformity with his subjects and his treatment. It is probably in Sibylle and in Julia de Trécœur that he can now be studied to most advantage, though Monsieur de Camors gives a greater sense of power, and though Le Roman d’un jeune homme pauvre still preserves its popularity.

FEUILLET, OCTAVE (1821-1890), French novelist and playwright, was born in Saint-Lô, Manche, on August 11, 1821. He was the son of a learned and distinguished Norman gentleman, who could have made a significant impact in politics “without his nerve issues,” as Guizot put it. This nervous excitability was inherited by Octave, though not to the same extreme. His mother died during his infancy, leaving him under the care of his overly sensitive father. The boy attended the lycée Louis-le Grand in Paris, where he excelled and was expected to enter the diplomatic service. In 1840, he visited his father in Saint-Lô and declared his intention to pursue a career in literature. This prompted a heated argument, leading his father to cut him off financially. Octave returned to Paris, scraping by as a journalist. Alongside Paul Bocage, he began writing for the stage, finding some success; in any case, he managed to get by until, three years after their fallout, his father agreed to reconcile. With a generous allowance, he now lived comfortably and independently in Paris, publishing early novels, none of which are particularly valued by modern readers. However, as his father's health continued to deteriorate, he was called back to Saint-Lô to become his father’s constant companion. This required a significant sacrifice, but Octave willingly complied. In 1851, he married his cousin, Mlle Valérie Feuillet, who helped him cope with the somber isolation imposed by his filial duty. Interestingly, during this exile—made even more burdensome by his father’s obsession with solitude and his tyrannical nature—Octave's talent flourished. His first notable success came in 1852 when he published the novel Bellah and staged the comedy La Crise. Both works were reprinted from the Revue des deux mondes, where many of his later novels also appeared. He produced enduring works such as La Petite Comtesse (1857), Dalila (1857), and especially the universally loved Le Roman d’un jeune homme pauvre (1858). Though he fell into a nervous state in his “prison,” he was supported by the love and intelligence of his wife and mother-in-law. In 1857, after being encouraged to adapt Dalila into a play, he debuted it at the Vaudeville to great success. On this occasion, he broke his father’s rules and went to Paris to watch the rehearsal. His father managed to cope with the shock of his temporary absence, and the following year Octave attempted the same when Un Jeune Homme pauvre was performed. To his deep regret, during this brief absence, his father passed away. Octave was now free, and the family quickly moved to Paris, where they joined the vibrant social scene of the Second Empire. The elegant and distinguished young novelist became a favorite at court; his works were presented at Compiègne before their public release, and once, the empress Eugénie even portrayed Mme de Pons in Les Portraits de la Marquise. Feuillet didn’t abandon novel writing, achieving significant success with Sibylle in 1862. However, by this time his health had begun to decline, especially after the tragic death of his eldest son. He decided to leave Paris, which was too stimulating for his nerves, and return to the tranquility of Normandy. The family’s old château was sold, but he bought a house called “Les Paillers” in the suburbs of Saint-Lô, where he lived contentedly among his roses for fifteen years. He was elected to the French Academy in 1862, and in 1868, he became the librarian at Fontainebleau Palace, where he had to spend a month or two each year. In 1867, he created his masterpiece, Monsieur de Camors, and in 1872, he wrote Julia de Tréœur, which is nearly as remarkable. In his later years, after selling “Les Paillers,” he experienced constant wandering due to his nervous agitation. He was worn down by grief and poor health, and when he died in Paris on December 29, 1890, his passing was a relief. His last book was Honneur d’artiste (1890). Among his many writings, his novels have endured longer than his plays; 305 of the former, three or four seem destined to retain their charm as classics. He occupies a position between the romantics and the realists, with a clear and distinct portrayal of life uniquely his own. He depicted the women of his world with dignity, understanding, and remarkable insight. His novels contain little description, and sometimes they feel almost stark and colorless, but on the contrary, the exploration of motives, emotions, and "the finer nuances" has rarely been pushed further. Few have written French with greater purity than Feuillet, and his style—reserved in form, never overly ornate, yet filled with wit and subtle animation—harmonizes beautifully with his subjects and approach. His works Sibylle and Julia de Trécœur can now be studied most effectively, although Monsieur de Camors conveys a greater sense of power, and Le Roman d’un jeune homme pauvre continues to be popular.

See also Sainte-Beuve, Nouveaux Lundis, vol. v.; F. Brunetière, Nouveaux Essais sur la littérature contemporaine (1895).

See also Sainte-Beuve, Nouveaux Lundis, vol. v.; F. Brunetière, Nouveaux Essais sur la littérature contemporaine (1895).

(E. G.)

FEUILLETON (a diminutive of the Fr. feuillet, the leaf of a book), originally a kind of supplement attached to the political portion of French newspapers. Its inventor was Bertin the elder, editor of the Débats. It was not usually printed on a separate sheet, but merely separated from the political part of the newspaper by a line, and printed in smaller type. In French newspapers it consists chiefly of non-political news and gossip, literature and art criticism, a chronicle of the fashions, and epigrams, charades and other literary trifles; and its general characteristics are lightness, grace and sparkle. The feuilleton in its French sense has never been adopted by English newspapers, though in various modern journals (in the United States especially) the sort of matter represented by it is now included. But the term itself has come into English use to indicate the instalment of a serial story printed in one part of a newspaper.

FEUILLETON (a small version of the French word feuillet, meaning the leaf of a book), was originally a supplement attached to the political section of French newspapers. It was created by Bertin the elder, who was the editor of the Débats. It wasn't usually printed on a separate page; instead, it was just separated from the political content by a line and printed in smaller type. In French newspapers, it mainly includes non-political news and gossip, literature and art reviews, fashion updates, as well as epigrams, charades, and other light literary pieces. Its typical features are lightness, elegance, and a touch of sparkle. The feuilleton in its original French form has never been adopted by English newspapers, though various modern publications (especially in the United States) now include similar content. However, the term itself has entered English usage to refer to the installment of a serial story published in one section of a newspaper.


FEUQUIÈRES, ISAAC MANASSÈS DE PAS, Marquis de (1590-1640), French soldier, came of a distinguished family of which many members held high command in the civil wars of the 16th century. He entered the Royal army at the age of thirty, and soon achieved distinction. In 1626 he served in the Valtelline, and in 1628-1629 at the celebrated siege of La Rochelle, where he was taken prisoner. In 1629 he was made Maréchal de Camp, and served in the fighting on the southern frontiers of France. After occupying various military positions in Lorraine, he was sent as an ambassador into Germany, where he rendered important services in negotiations with Wallenstein. In 1636 he commanded the French corps operating with the duke of Weimar’s forces (afterwards Turenne’s “Army of Weimar”). With these troops he served in the campaigns of 1637 (in which he became lieutenant-general), 1638 and 1639. At the siege of Thionville (Diedenhofen) he received a mortal wound. His lettres inédites appeared (ed. Gallois) in Paris in 1845.

FEUQUIÈRES, ISAAC MANASSÈS DE PAS, Marquis (1590-1640), was a French soldier from a notable family with many members who held high-ranking positions during the civil wars of the 16th century. He joined the Royal army at the age of thirty and quickly gained recognition. In 1626, he participated in the Valtelline campaign, and in 1628-1629, he was part of the famous siege of La Rochelle, where he was captured. In 1629, he was appointed Maréchal de Camp and served in conflicts on France's southern borders. After holding various military roles in Lorraine, he was sent as an ambassador to Germany, where he played a key role in negotiations with Wallenstein. In 1636, he led the French forces working with the Duke of Weimar's troops (which later became Turenne’s “Army of Weimar”). He fought in campaigns during 1637 (where he became lieutenant-general), 1638, and 1639. He sustained a fatal injury during the siege of Thionville (Diedenhofen). His lettres inédites were published (ed. Gallois) in Paris in 1845.

His son Antoine Manassès de Pas, Marquis de Feuquières (1648-1711), was born at Paris in 1648, and entered the army at the age of eighteen. His conduct at the siege of Lille in 1667, where he was wounded, won him promotion to the rank of captain. In the campaigns of 1672 and 1673 he served on the staff of Marshal Luxemburg, and at the siege of Oudenarde in the following year the king gave him command of the Royal Marine regiment, which he held until he obtained a regiment of his own in 1676. In 1688 he served as a brigadier at the siege of Philipsburg, and afterwards led a ravaging expedition into south Germany, where he acquired much booty. Promoted Maréchal de Camp, he served under Catinat against the Waldenses, and in the course of the war won the nickname of the “Wizard.” In 1692 he made a brilliant defence of Speierbach against greatly superior forces, and was rewarded with the rank of lieutenant-general. He bore a distinguished part in Luxemburg’s great victory of Neerwinden or Landen in 1693. Marshal Villeroi impressed him less favourably than his old commander Luxemburg, and the resumption of war in 1701 found him in disfavour in consequence. The rest of his life, embittered by the refusal of the marshal’s baton, he spent in compiling his celebrated memoirs, which, coloured as they were by the personal animosities of the writer, were yet considered by Frederick the Great and the soldiers of the 18th century as the standard work on the art of war as a whole. He died in 1711. The Mémoires sur la guerre appeared in the same year and new editions were frequently published (Paris 1711, 1725, 1735, &c., London 1736, Amsterdam subsequently). An English version appeared in London 1737, under the title Memoirs of the Marquis de Feuquières, and a German translation (Feuquières geheime Nachrichten) at Leipzig 1732, 1738, and Berlin 1786. They deal in detail with every branch of the art of war and of military service.

His son Antoine Manassès de Pas, Marquis de Feuquières (1648-1711), was born in Paris in 1648 and joined the army at eighteen. His performance during the siege of Lille in 1667, where he was injured, earned him a promotion to captain. In the campaigns of 1672 and 1673, he served on the staff of Marshal Luxemburg, and during the siege of Oudenarde the following year, the king appointed him to lead the Royal Marine regiment, which he commanded until he got his own regiment in 1676. In 1688, he served as a brigadier at the siege of Philipsburg and later led a destructive expedition into southern Germany, where he gained a lot of loot. Promoted to Maréchal de Camp, he fought under Catinat against the Waldenses and gained the nickname "the Wizard" during the war. In 1692, he successfully defended Speierbach against much larger forces and was promoted to lieutenant-general. He played an important role in Luxemburg’s significant victory at Neerwinden or Landen in 1693. Marshal Villeroi did not impress him as much as his former commander Luxemburg, and when the war resumed in 1701, he found himself out of favor as a result. The remainder of his life was spent in bitterness over the denial of the marshal's baton, as he worked on his famous memoirs, which, despite being influenced by his personal grudges, were regarded by Frederick the Great and 18th-century soldiers as the definitive work on military strategy overall. He died in 1711. The Mémoires sur la guerre were published in the same year, with new editions frequently released (Paris 1711, 1725, 1735, etc., London 1736, Amsterdam later). An English version was released in London in 1737, titled Memoirs of the Marquis de Feuquières, and a German translation (Feuquières geheime Nachrichten) appeared in Leipzig in 1732, 1738, and in Berlin in 1786. These works cover every aspect of military art and service in detail.


FÉVAL, PAUL HENRI CORENTIN (1817-1887), French novelist and dramatist, was born on the 27th of September 1817, at Rennes in Brittany, and much of his best work deals with the history of his native province. He was educated for the bar, but after his first brief he went to Paris, where he gained a footing by the publication of his “Club des phoques” (1841) in the Revue de Paris. The Mystères de Londres (1844), in which an Irishman tries to avenge the wrongs of his countrymen by seeking the annihilation of England, was published under the ingenious pseudonym “Sir Francis Trolopp.” Others of his novels are: Le Fils du diable (1846); Les Compagnons du silence (1857); Le Bossu (1858); Le Poisson d’or (1863); Les Habits noirs (1863); Jean le diable (1868), and Les Compagnons du trésor (1872). Some of his novels were dramatized, Le Bossu (1863), in which he had M. Victorien Sardou for a collaborator, being especially successful in dramatic form. His chronicles of crime exercised an evil influence, eventually recognized by the author himself. In his later years he became an ardent Catholic, and occupied himself in revising his earlier works from his new standpoint and in writing religious pamphlets. Reverses of fortune and consequent overwork undermined his mental and bodily health, and he died of paralysis in the monastery of the Brothers of Saint John in Paris on the 8th of March 1887.

FÉVAL, PAUL HENRI CORENTIN (1817-1887), French novelist and playwright, was born on September 27, 1817, in Rennes, Brittany, and much of his best work focuses on the history of his hometown. He was trained for the legal profession, but after his first case, he moved to Paris, where he established himself with the publication of his “Club des phoques” (1841) in the Revue de Paris. The Mystères de Londres (1844), in which an Irishman seeks to avenge the injustices faced by his fellow countrymen by attempting to destroy England, was published under the clever pseudonym “Sir Francis Trolopp.” Other novels by him include: Le Fils du diable (1846); Les Compagnons du silence (1857); Le Bossu (1858); Le Poisson d’or (1863); Les Habits noirs (1863); Jean le diable (1868), and Les Compagnons du trésor (1872). Some of his novels were adapted for the stage, with Le Bossu (1863), in collaboration with M. Victorien Sardou, achieving notable success in its dramatic version. His crime chronicles had a negative influence, which the author later acknowledged. In his later years, he became a passionate Catholic and focused on revising his earlier works from this new perspective and writing religious pamphlets. Struggles with fortune and excessive work took a toll on his mental and physical health, and he passed away from paralysis at the monastery of the Brothers of Saint John in Paris on March 8, 1887.

His son, Paul Féval (1860-  ), became well known as a novelist and dramatist. Among his works are Nouvelles (1890), Maria Laura (1891), and Chantepie (1896).

His son, Paul Féval (1860-  ), became famous as a novelist and playwright. Some of his works include Nouvelles (1890), Maria Laura (1891), and Chantepie (1896).


FEVER (Lat. febris, connected with fervere, to burn), a term generally used to include all conditions in which the normal temperature of the animal body is markedly exceeded for any length of time. When the temperature reaches as high a point as 106° F. the term hyperpyrexia (excessive fever) is applied, and is regarded as indicating a condition of danger; while, if it exceeds 107° or 108° for any length of time, death almost always results. The diseases which are called specific fevers, because of its being a predominant factor in them, are discussed separately under their ordinary names. Occasionally in certain specific fevers and febrile diseases the temperature may attain the elevation of 110°-112° prior to the fatal issue. For the treatment of fever in general, see Therapeutics.

FEVER (Lat. febris, related to fervere, to burn), is a term commonly used to describe all situations where the normal body temperature of an animal is significantly elevated for any period of time. When the temperature reaches as high as 106° F, it's called hyperpyrexia (extreme fever) and is seen as a sign of danger; if it exceeds 107° or 108° for any extended time, it almost always leads to death. The diseases referred to as specific fevers, where fever is a major element, are discussed separately under their typical names. In some cases of specific fevers and febrile illnesses, the temperature may rise to 110°-112° before a fatal outcome. For the treatment of fever in general, see Therapeutics.

Pathology.—Every rise of temperature is due to a disturbance in the heat-regulating mechanism, the chief variable in which is the action of the skin in eliminating heat (see Animal Heat). Although for all practical purposes this mechanism works satisfactorily, it is not by any means perfect, and many physiological conditions cause a transient rise of temperature; e.g. severe muscular exercise, in which the cutaneous eliminating mechanism is unable at once to dispose of the increased amount of heat produced in the muscles. Pathologically, the heat-regulating mechanism may be disturbed in three different ways: 1st, by mechanical interference with the nervous system; 2nd, by interference with heat elimination; 3rd, by the action of various poisons.

Pathology.—Any increase in temperature is caused by a disruption in the heat-regulating system, primarily influenced by how the skin eliminates heat (see Animal Heat). While this system generally functions well, it is not flawless, and various physiological factors can lead to a temporary rise in temperature; e.g. intense physical activity, where the skin's ability to release heat can't immediately handle the extra heat produced by the muscles. From a pathological standpoint, the heat-regulating system can be disrupted in three main ways: 1st, through mechanical interference with the nervous system; 2nd, through disruption of heat elimination; 3rd, through the effects of different toxins.

1. In the human subject, fever the result of mechanical interference with the nervous system rarely occurs, but it can readily be produced in the lower animals by stimulating certain parts of the great brain, e.g. the anterior portion of the corpus striatum. This leads to a rise of temperature with increased heat production. The high temperature seems to cause disintegration of cell protoplasm and increased excretion of nitrogen and of carbonic acid. Possibly some of the cases of high temperature recorded 306 after injuries to the nervous system may be caused in this way; but some may also be due to stimulation of vaso-constrictor fibres to the cutaneous vessels diminishing heat elimination. So far the pathology of this condition has not been studied with the same care that has been devoted to the investigation of the third type of fever.

1. In humans, fever caused by mechanical interference with the nervous system is rare, but it can easily be induced in lower animals by stimulating certain areas of the brain, e.g. the front part of the corpus striatum. This causes an increase in body temperature and heat production. The elevated temperature appears to lead to breakdown of cell protoplasm and a higher excretion of nitrogen and carbon dioxide. Some of the instances of high temperature noted 306 after nervous system injuries may occur for this reason; however, some may also result from the stimulation of vaso-constrictor fibers, which reduces heat loss through the skin. So far, the pathology of this condition hasn't been examined with the same attention as the study of the third type of fever.

2. Fever may readily be produced by interference with heat elimination. This has been done by submitting dogs to a temperature slightly below that of the rectum, and it is seen in man in Sunstroke. The typical nervous symptoms of fever are thus produced, and the rate of chemical change in the tissues is accelerated, as is shown by the increased excretion of carbonic acid. The protoplasm is also injured and the proteids are broken down, and thus an increased excretion of nitrogen is produced and the cells undergo degenerative changes.

2. Fever can easily occur when heat elimination is disrupted. This has been demonstrated by exposing dogs to a temperature just below that of the rectum, and it is observed in humans during sunstroke. The typical nervous symptoms of fever are produced this way, and the rate of chemical changes in the tissues speeds up, as indicated by the increased excretion of carbon dioxide. The protoplasm is also damaged, and proteins are broken down, leading to higher nitrogen excretion and causing degenerative changes in the cells.

3. The products of various micro-organisms have a toxic action on the protoplasm of a large number of animals, and among the symptoms of this toxic action one of the most frequent is a rise in temperature. While this is by no means a necessary accompaniment, its occurrence is so general that the term Fever has been applied to the general reaction of the organism to the microbial poison. Toxins which cause a marked rise of temperature in men may cause a fall in other animals. It is not the alteration of temperature which is the great index of the severity of the struggle between the host and the parasite, but the death and removal to a greater or lesser extent of the protoplasm of the host. In this respect fever resembles poisoning with phosphorus and arsenic and other similar substances. The true measure of the intensity of a fever is the extent of disintegration of protoplasm, and this may be estimated by the amount of nitrogen excreted in the urine. The increased disintegration of protoplasm is also indicated by the rise in the excretion of sulphur and phosphorus and by the appearance in the urine of acetone, aceto-acetic and β-oxybutyric acids (see Nutrition). Since the temperature is generally proportionate to the intensity of the toxic action, its height is usually proportionate to the excretion of nitrogen. But sometimes the rise of temperature is not marked, while the excretion of nitrogen is very decidedly increased. When the temperature is sufficiently elevated, the heat has of itself an injurious action on the protoplasm, and tends to increase disintegration just as when heat elimination is experimentally retarded. But the increase due to rise of temperature is small compared to that produced by the destructive action of the microbial products. In the beginning of a fever the activity of the metabolism is not increased to any marked extent, and any increase is necessarily largely due to the greater activity of the muscles of the heart and respiratory mechanism, and to the muscular contractions which produce the initial rigors. Thus the excretion of carbon dioxide—the great measure of the activity of metabolism—is not usually increased, and there is no evidence of an increased combustion. In the later stages the increased temperature may bring about an acceleration in the rate of chemical change; but this is comparatively slight, less in fact than the increase observed on taking muscular exercise after rest. The rise of temperature is primarily due to diminished heat elimination. This diminished giving off of heat was demonstrated by means of the calorimeter by I. Rosenthal, while E. Maragliano showed that the cutaneous vessels are contracted. Even in the later stages, until defervescence occurs, heat elimination is inadequate to get rid of the heat produced.

3. The substances produced by various micro-organisms can be toxic to the protoplasm of many animals, and one of the most common symptoms of this toxicity is an increase in temperature. While this is not always the case, it happens so frequently that we use the term Fever to describe the overall response of the body to the microbial toxin. Toxins that raise the temperature in humans might actually lower it in other animals. The important factor isn't just the change in temperature; it is the death and loss of the host's protoplasm that truly indicate the severity of the battle between the host and the parasite. In this way, fever is similar to poisoning by phosphorus, arsenic, and other toxic substances. The real measure of how intense a fever is depends on how much protoplasm has broken down, which can be assessed by the amount of nitrogen excreted in urine. An increase in the breakdown of protoplasm is also shown by higher levels of sulphur and phosphorus excreted, as well as the presence of acetone, aceto-acetic acid, and β-oxybutyric acid in the urine (see Nutrition). Generally, the temperature correlates with the intensity of the toxic effects, so a higher temperature usually means more nitrogen excretion. However, there are times when the temperature doesn't rise significantly, but nitrogen excretion increases noticeably. When the temperature gets high enough, it can harm the protoplasm on its own and contributes to further breakdown, similar to what happens when the body’s ability to release heat is experimentally hindered. But the increase in breakdown caused by temperature alone is minor compared to the damage caused by microbial products. At the onset of a fever, metabolism isn't significantly increased; any rise is mostly due to greater activity in the heart and respiratory muscles, along with the muscle contractions that lead to initial shivering. Therefore, the excretion of carbon dioxide—the main indicator of metabolic activity—usually doesn’t increase, and there’s no sign of heightened energy consumption. As the fever progresses, the higher temperature may prompt a faster rate of chemical reactions, but this is relatively small, actually less than the increase seen when someone exercises after resting. The rise in temperature mainly results from reduced heat loss. The reduced expulsion of heat was shown by I. Rosenthal using a calorimeter, while E. Maragliano found that the skin's blood vessels are constricted. Even in later stages, until the body starts to cool down, heat elimination remains insufficient to remove the heat generated.

The toxic action is manifested not only by the increased disintegration of protoplasm, but also by disturbances in the functions of the various organs. The activity of the digestive glands is diminished and appetite is lost. Food is therefore not taken, although when taken it appears to be absorbed in undiminished quantities. As a result of this the patient suffers from inanition, and lives largely on his own fats and proteids, and for this reason rapidly emaciates. The functions of the liver are also diminished in activity. Glycogen is not stored in the cells, and the bile secretion is modified, the essential constituents disappearing almost entirely in some cases. The production of urea is also interfered with, and the proportion of nitrogen in the urine not in the urea increases. This is in part due to the increased disintegration of proteids setting free sulphur and phosphorus, which, oxidized into sulphuric and phosphoric acids, combine with the ammonia which would otherwise have been changed to urea. Thus the proportion of ammonia in the urine is increased. Concurrently with these alterations in the functions of the liver-cells, a condition of granular degeneration and probably a state of fatty degeneration makes its appearance. That the functional activity of the kidneys is modified, is shown by the frequent appearance of proteoses or of albumen and globulin in the urine. Frequently the toxin acts very markedly on the protoplasm of the kidney epithelium, and causes a shedding of the cells and sometimes inflammatory reaction. The muscles are weakened, but so far no satisfactory study has been made of the influence of microbial poisons on muscular contraction. A granular and fatty degeneration supervenes, and the fibres waste. The nervous structures, especially the nerve-cells, are acted upon, and not only is their functional activity modified, but they also undergo structural changes of a chromatolytic nature. The blood shows two important changes—first, a fall in the alkalinity due to the products of disintegration of protoplasm; and, secondly, an increase in the number of leucocytes, and chiefly in the polymorpho-nuclear variety. This is best marked in pneumonia, where the normal number is often increased twofold and sometimes more than tenfold, while it is altogether absent in enteric fever.

The toxic effect shows up not just as increased breakdown of protoplasm but also through disruptions in the functions of various organs. The activity of the digestive glands decreases and appetite is lost. As a result, food isn’t consumed, although when it is, it seems to be absorbed just fine. Consequently, the patient suffers from starvation, living mainly on their own fats and proteins, leading to rapid weight loss. The functions of the liver also decrease. Glycogen isn’t stored in the cells, and the bile secretion changes, with essential components disappearing almost completely in some cases. The production of urea is affected too, and the nitrogen content in the urine that isn’t urea increases. This is partly due to the increased breakdown of proteins releasing sulfur and phosphorus, which, when oxidized into sulfuric and phosphoric acids, combine with ammonia that would have otherwise turned into urea. As a result, the amount of ammonia in the urine goes up. Along with these changes in the liver cells, there’s a condition of granular degeneration and likely fatty degeneration. The functional activity of the kidneys is also affected, as shown by the frequent presence of proteoses or albumin and globulin in the urine. Often, the toxin greatly impacts the protoplasm of the kidney epithelium, leading to cell shedding and sometimes inflammation. The muscles become weaker, but no adequate research has been done on how microbial toxins affect muscle contraction. Granular and fatty degeneration occurs, causing the fibers to waste away. The nervous structures, especially the nerve cells, are also affected; their functional activity changes and they undergo structural changes known as chromatolysis. The blood shows two significant changes—first, a drop in alkalinity due to the byproducts of protoplasm breakdown, and second, an increase in the number of leukocytes, particularly the polymorphonuclear type. This is most pronounced in pneumonia, where the normal count often doubles and can exceed ten times the normal, while it is completely absent in enteric fever.

An interesting general modification in the metabolism is the enormous fall in the excretion of chlorine, a fall far in excess of what could be accounted for by inanition, and out of all proportion to the fall in the sodium and potassium with which the chlorine is usually combined in the urine. The fevered animal in fact stores chlorine in its tissues, though in what manner and for what reason is not at present known.

An interesting general change in metabolism is the significant decrease in the excretion of chlorine, a decrease that far exceeds what could be explained by starvation and is disproportionately larger than the drop in sodium and potassium with which chlorine is usually found in urine. The feverish animal actually accumulates chlorine in its tissues, although the mechanism and purpose of this are currently unclear.

Authorities.—Von Noorden, Lehrbuch der Pathologie des Stoffwechsels (Berlin, 1893); Metabolism and Practical Medicine, vol. ii., article “Fever” by F. Kraus (1907); Dr A. Rabe, Die modernen Fiebertheorien (Berlin, 1894); Dr G.B. Ughetti, Das Fieber, trans. by Dr R. Teuscher (Jena, 1895); Dr M. Lövit, “Die Lehre von Fieber,” Vorlesungen über allgemeine Pathologie, erstes Heft (Jena, 1897); Louis Guinon, “De la fièvre,” in Bouchard’s Traité de pathologie générale, t. iii. 2nd partie (Paris, 1899); Sir J.B. Sanderson, “The Doctrine of Fever,” in Allbutt’s System of Medicine, vol. i. p. 139 (London, 1896).

Authorities.—Von Noorden, Textbook of Metabolic Pathology (Berlin, 1893); Metabolism and Practical Medicine, vol. ii., article “Fever” by F. Kraus (1907); Dr A. Rabe, The Modern Theories of Fever (Berlin, 1894); Dr G.B. Ughetti, Fever, trans. by Dr R. Teuscher (Jena, 1895); Dr M. Lövit, “The Study of Fever,” Lectures on General Pathology, first part (Jena, 1897); Louis Guinon, “On Fever,” in Bouchard’s Treatise on General Pathology, vol. iii. 2nd part (Paris, 1899); Sir J.B. Sanderson, “The Doctrine of Fever,” in Allbutt’s System of Medicine, vol. i. p. 139 (London, 1896).

(D. N. P.)

FEYDEAU, ERNEST-AIMÉ (1821-1873), French author, was born in Paris, on the 16th of March 1821. He began his literary career in 1844, by the publication of a volume of poetry, Les Nationales. Either the partial failure of this literary effort, or his marriage soon afterwards to a daughter of the economist Blanqui, caused him to devote himself to finance and to archaeology. He gained a great success with his novel Fanny (1858), a success due chiefly to the cleverness with which it depicted and excused the corrupt manners of a certain portion of French society. This was followed in rapid succession by a series of fictions, similar in character, but wanting the attraction of novelty; none of them enjoyed the same vogue as Fanny. Besides his novels Feydeau wrote several plays, and he is also the author of Histoire générale des usages funèbres et des sépultures des peuples anciens (3 vols., 1857-1861); Le Secret du bonheur (sketches of Algerian life) (2 vols., 1864); and L’Allemagne en 1871 (1872), a clever caricature of German life and manners. He died in Paris on the 27th of October 1873.

FEYDEAU, ERNEST-AIMÉ (1821-1873), French author, was born in Paris on March 16, 1821. He started his literary career in 1844 with the publication of a poetry collection, Les Nationales. Either the partial failure of this literary attempt or his marriage shortly after to the daughter of the economist Blanqui led him to focus on finance and archaeology. He achieved great success with his novel Fanny (1858), which was largely recognized for its clever portrayal and justification of the corrupt behaviors of a certain segment of French society. This was quickly followed by a series of similar works, though they lacked the novelty that Fanny had; none of them were as popular. In addition to his novels, Feydeau wrote several plays and is also the author of Histoire générale des usages funèbres et des sépultures des peuples anciens (3 vols., 1857-1861); Le Secret du bonheur (sketches of Algerian life) (2 vols., 1864); and L’Allemagne en 1871 (1872), a witty caricature of German life and manners. He died in Paris on October 27, 1873.

See Sainte-Beuve, Causeries du lundi, vol. xiv., and Barbey d’Aurevilly, Les Œuvres et les hommes au XIXe siècle.

See Sainte-Beuve, Causeries du lundi, vol. xiv., and Barbey d’Aurevilly, Les Œuvres et les hommes au XIXe siècle.


FEZ (Fās), the chief city of Morocco, into which empire it was incorporated in 1548. It lies in 34° 6′ 3″ N., 4° 38′ 15″ W., about 230 m. N.E. of Marrākesh, 100 m. E. from the Atlantic and 85 m. S. of the Mediterranean. It is beautifully situated in a deep valley on the Wad Fās, an affluent of the Wad Sebu, which divides the town into two parts—the ancient town, Fās el Bali, on the right bank, and the new, Fās el Jadīd, on the left.

FEZ (Fās), the main city of Morocco, which became part of the empire in 1548. It is located at 34° 6′ 3″ N., 4° 38′ 15″ W., about 230 miles northeast of Marrākesh, 100 miles east of the Atlantic, and 85 miles south of the Mediterranean. It's beautifully positioned in a deep valley along the Wad Fās, a tributary of the Wad Sebu, which separates the city into two sections—the old city, Fās el Bali, on the right bank, and the new city, Fās el Jadīd, on the left.

Like many other Oriental cities, Fez from a distance appears a very attractive place. It stretches out between low hills, crowned by the ruins of ancient fortresses, and though there 307 is nothing imposing, there is something particularly impressive in the sight of that white-roofed conglomeration of habitations, broken only by occasional mosque towers or, on the outskirts, by luxuriant foliage. Except on the south side the city is surrounded by hills, interspersed with groves of orange, pomegranate and other fruit trees, and large olive gardens.

Like many other Eastern cities, Fez looks very appealing from a distance. It stretches out between low hills topped with the ruins of ancient fortresses. While nothing stands out dramatically, there’s something uniquely striking about the view of that collection of white-roofed buildings, interrupted only by the occasional mosque tower or, on the edges, by lush greenery. Except on the south side, the city is bordered by hills, dotted with orange, pomegranate, and other fruit tree groves, as well as extensive olive gardens.

From its peculiar situation Fez has a drainage superior to that of most Moorish towns. When the town becomes very dirty, the water is allowed to run down the streets by opening lids for the purpose in the conduits and closing the ordinary exits, so that it overflows and cleanses the pavements. The Fasis as a rule prefer to drink the muddy river water rather than that of the pure springs which abound in certain quarters of the town. But the assertion that the supply and drainage system are one is a libel, since the drainage system lies below the level of the fresh river water, and was organized by a French renegade, under Mohammed XVI., about the close of the 18th century. The general dampness of the town renders it unhealthy, however, as the pallid faces of the inhabitants betoken, but this is considered a mark of distinction and is jealously guarded.

From its unique location, Fez has a better drainage system than most Moorish towns. When the town gets particularly dirty, water is let flow down the streets by opening specific lids in the drainage system and closing the regular outlets, allowing it to overflow and clean the pavements. The people of Fez generally prefer to drink the muddy river water instead of the pure spring water that is plentiful in certain parts of the town. However, the claim that the water supply and drainage system are the same is false, as the drainage system is positioned below the level of the fresh river water and was established by a French defector under Mohammed XVI around the end of the 18th century. The overall dampness of the town makes it unhealthy, as reflected in the pale faces of the residents, but this is viewed as a sign of distinction and is carefully maintained.

Most of the streets are exceedingly narrow, and as the houses are high and built in many cases over the thoroughfares these are often very dark and gloomy, though, since wooden beams, rough stones and mortar are used in building, there is less of that ruined, half-decayed appearance so common in other Moorish towns where mud concrete is the material employed.

Most of the streets are really narrow, and since the houses are tall and often built over the roads, they can be quite dark and gloomy. However, because wooden beams, rough stones, and mortar are used in construction, there's less of that worn, half-decayed look that's typical in other Moorish towns where mud concrete is the main material.

As a commercial town Fez is a great depot for the trade of Barbary and wares brought from the east and south by caravans. The manufactures still carried on are those of yellow slippers of the famous Morocco leather, fine white woollen and silk haiks, of which it is justly proud, women’s embroidered sashes, various coarse woollen cloths and blankets, cotton and silk handkerchiefs, silk cords and braids, swords and guns, saddlery, brass trays, Moorish musical instruments, rude painted pottery and coloured tiles. Until recent times the city had a monopoly of the manufacture of Fez caps, for it was supposed that the dye which imparts the dull crimson hue of these caps could not be procured elsewhere; they are now, however, made both in France and Turkey. The dye is obtained from the juice of a berry which grows in large quantities near the town, and is also used in the dyeing of leather. Some gold ornaments are made, the gold being brought from the interior by caravans which trade regularly with Timbuktu.

As a trading hub, Fez serves as a major center for goods from Barbary as well as products brought from the east and south by caravans. The local crafts still include famous yellow slippers made from Morocco leather, fine white wool and silk haiks, which the city takes great pride in, women’s embroidered sashes, various coarse wool cloths and blankets, cotton and silk handkerchiefs, silk cords and braids, swords and guns, saddlery, brass trays, Moorish musical instruments, simple painted pottery, and colorful tiles. Until recently, the city held a monopoly on manufacturing Fez caps because it was believed that the special dye for their distinct dull crimson color couldn’t be found anywhere else; however, they are now also produced in France and Turkey. The dye is made from the juice of a berry that grows abundantly near the town and is also used for dyeing leather. Some gold jewelry is crafted as well, with the gold being transported from the interior by caravans that regularly trade with Timbuktu.

As in other capitals each trade has a district or street devoted chiefly to its activities. Old Fez is the business portion of the town, new Fez being occupied principally by government quarters and the Jews’ mellah. The tradesman usually sits cross-legged in a corner of his shop with his goods so arranged that he can reach most of them without moving.

As in other capitals, each trade has its own district or street mostly dedicated to its activities. Old Fez is the main commercial area of the town, while new Fez is mainly home to government buildings and the Jewish quarter, known as the mellah. The shopkeeper typically sits cross-legged in a corner of his store, with his goods laid out so he can grab most of them without having to get up.

In the early days of Mahommedan rule in Morocco, Fez was the seat of learning and the empire’s pride. Its schools of religion, philosophy and astronomy enjoyed a great reputation in Africa and also in southern Europe, and were even attended by Christians. On the expulsion of the Moors from Spain, refugees of all kinds flocked to Fez, and brought with them some knowledge of arts, sciences and manufactures, and thither flocked students to make use of its extensive libraries. But its glories were brief, and though still “the university town” of Morocco, it retains but a shadow of its greatness. Its library, estimated by Gerhard Rohlfs in 1861 to contain 5000 volumes, is open on Fridays, and any Moor of known respectability may borrow volumes on getting an order and signing a receipt for them. There are about 1500 students who read at the Karueein. They pay no rents, but buy the keys of the rooms from the last occupants, selling them again on leaving.

In the early days of Muslim rule in Morocco, Fez was the center of learning and a source of pride for the empire. Its schools of religion, philosophy, and astronomy were highly regarded in Africa and southern Europe, attracting even Christian students. After the Moors were expelled from Spain, many refugees came to Fez, bringing knowledge of various arts, sciences, and trades, and students flocked there to take advantage of its extensive libraries. However, its glory was short-lived, and although it is still known as "the university town" of Morocco, it now exists only as a shadow of its former greatness. Its library, estimated by Gerhard Rohlfs in 1861 to contain 5,000 volumes, is open on Fridays, and any Moor of good standing can borrow books by obtaining an order and signing a receipt. There are about 1,500 students studying at the Kairaouine. They do not pay rent, but instead buy the keys to their rooms from the previous occupants, selling them again when they leave.

The Karueein is celebrated as the largest mosque in Africa, but it is by no means the most magnificent. On account of the vast area covered, the roof, supported by three hundred and sixty-six pillars of stone, appears very low. The side chapel for services for the dead contains twenty-four pillars. All these columns support horse-shoe arches, on which the roof is built, long vistas of arches being seen from each of the eighteen doors of the mosque. The large lamp is stated to weigh 1763 ℔ and to have 509 lights, but it is very seldom lit. The total number of lights in the Karueein is given as seventeen hundred, and they are said to require 3½ cwt. of oil for one filling. The mosque of Mulai Idris, built by the founder of Fez about the year 810, is considered so sacred that the streets which approach its entrance are forbidden to Jews, Christians or four-footed beasts. The sanctity of the shrine in particular is esteemed very great, and this accounts for the crowds which daily flock to it. The Tumiat door leading to it was once very fine, but is now much faded. Opposite to it is a refuge for friendless sharifas—the female descendants of Mahomet—built by Mohammed XVII.

The Karueein is known as the largest mosque in Africa, but it’s definitely not the most impressive. Because of its vast size, the roof, held up by three hundred sixty-six stone pillars, looks quite low. The side chapel for funeral services has twenty-four pillars. All these columns support horse-shoe arches, creating long lines of arches visible from each of the mosque's eighteen doors. The large lamp is said to weigh 1,763 pounds and has 509 lights, but it's rarely lit. The total number of lights in the Karueein is reported to be seventeen hundred, needing 3½ hundredweight of oil per filling. The mosque of Mulai Idris, built by the founder of Fez around the year 810, is considered so sacred that the streets leading to its entrance are off-limits to Jews, Christians, and animals. The sanctity of the shrine is highly regarded, which explains the crowds that gather there daily. The Tumiat door leading to it used to be very beautiful but is now quite faded. Across from it is a sanctuary for lonely sharifas—the female descendants of Mohammed—built by Mohammed XVII.

It is believed that the foundation stone of Fez was laid in 808 by Idris II. Since then its history has been chequered, as it was successfully besieged no fewer than eight times in the first five hundred years of its existence, yet only once knew foreign masters, when in 1554 the Turks took possession of it without a siege and held it for a short time. Fez became the chief residence of the Filali dynasty, who obtained possession of the town in 1649 (see further Morocco: History).

It’s believed that the foundation stone of Fez was laid in 808 by Idris II. Since then, its history has been tumultuous, as it was successfully besieged at least eight times in the first five hundred years of its existence, yet only once had foreign rulers, when in 1554 the Turks took control of it without a siege and held it briefly. Fez became the main residence of the Filali dynasty, who took over the town in 1649 (see further Morocco: History).

The population has been very varyingly estimated; probably the inhabitants number under one hundred thousand, even when the court is in residence.

The population has been estimated quite differently; it's likely that the number of inhabitants is under one hundred thousand, even when the court is present.

See H. Gaillard, Une Ville de l’Islam. Fès (Paris, 1905); C. René-Leclerc, “Le commerce et l’industrie à Fez” in Renseignements col. comité afrique française (1905).

See H. Gaillard, Une Ville de l’Islam. Fès (Paris, 1905); C. René-Leclerc, “Le commerce et l’industrie à Fez” in Renseignements col. comité afrique française (1905).


FEZZAN (the ancient Phazania, or country of the Garamantes), a region of the Sahara, forming a “kaimakamlik” of the Ottoman vilayet of Tripoli (q.v.). Its frontiers, ill-defined, run from Bonjem, within 50 m. of the Mediterranean on the north, south-westward to the Akakus range of hills, which separates Fezzan from Ghat, thence eastward for over 400 m., and then turn north and west to Bonjem again, embracing an area of about 156,000 sq. m.

FEZZAN (the ancient Phazania, or the land of the Garamantes), is a region of the Sahara that serves as a “kaimakamlik” of the Ottoman province of Tripoli (q.v.). Its borders are not well-defined and stretch from Bonjem, located 50 miles from the Mediterranean to the north, southwest to the Akakus mountain range, which separates Fezzan from Ghat, then eastward for over 400 miles, before turning north and west back to Bonjem, covering an area of about 156,000 square miles.

Physical Features.—The general form of the country is determined by the ranges of hills, including the Jebel-es-Suda (highest peak about 4000 ft.), the Haruj-el-Aswad and the Haruj-el-Abiad, which between 14° and 19° E. and 27° and 29° N. form the northern edge of a broad desert plateau, and shut off the northern region draining to the Mediterranean from the depressions in which lie the oases of Fezzan proper in the south. The central depression of Hofra (“ditch”), as it is called, lies in about 26° N. It does not form a continuous fertile tract, but consists of a monotonous sandy expanse somewhat more thickly studded with oases than the surrounding wastes. The Hofra at its lowest part is not more than 600 ft. above the sea-level, and in this hollow is situated the capital Murzuk. It has a general east to west direction. North-west of the Hofra is a long narrow valley, the Wadi-el-Gharbi, which trends north-east and is the most fertile district of Fezzan. It contains several perennial springs and lake-like basins. One of these basins, the saline Bahr-el-Dud (“Sea of Worms”), has an extent of 600 sq. m., and is in places 26 ft. deep. Southwards the Hofra rises to a height of 2000 ft., and in this direction lies the oasis of Gatron, followed by Tejerri on the verge of the desert, which marks the southern limit of the date and the northern of the dum palm. Beyond Tejerri the Saharan plateau rises continuously to the Tibesti highlands. (See further Tripoli.)

Physical Features.—The overall shape of the country is defined by the mountain ranges, including Jebel-es-Suda (the highest peak at about 4,000 ft.), Haruj-el-Aswad, and Haruj-el-Abiad. These ranges, located between 14° and 19° E and 27° and 29° N, form the northern edge of a broad desert plateau, separating the northern region that drains into the Mediterranean from the depressions in which the oases of Fezzan are located to the south. The central depression, known as Hofra ("ditch"), is situated around 26° N. It doesn't create a continuous fertile area but is made up of a monotonous sandy expanse that has more oases than the surrounding barren lands. The lowest point of the Hofra is about 600 ft. above sea level, and in this hollow lies the capital, Murzuk. It generally runs from east to west. Northwest of the Hofra is a long, narrow valley called Wadi-el-Gharbi, which trends northeast and is the most fertile area in Fezzan. It contains several permanent springs and lake-like basins. One of these basins, the saline Bahr-el-Dud ("Sea of Worms"), covers an area of 600 sq. m. and can reach depths of up to 26 ft. To the south, the Hofra rises to 2,000 ft., and in this direction is the oasis of Gatron, followed by Tejerri at the edge of the desert, marking the southern limit of the date palm and the northern limit of the dum palm. Beyond Tejerri, the Saharan plateau rises continuously to the Tibesti highlands. (See further Tripoli.)

Climate.—The average temperature of Murzuk was found by Rohlfs to be 70° F. Frost is not uncommon in the winter months. The climate is a very regular one, and is in general healthy, the dryness of the air in summer making the heat more bearable than on the sea coast. An almost perpetual blue sky overhangs the desert, and the people of Fezzan are so unaccustomed to and so ill-prepared for wet weather that, as in Tuat and Tidikelt, they pray to be spared from rain. Water is found almost everywhere at small depths.

Climate.—Rohlfs found that the average temperature in Murzuk is 70° F. Frost occurs occasionally during the winter months. The climate is quite steady and generally healthy, with the dry summer air making the heat more bearable than on the coast. The desert is almost always under a clear blue sky, and the people of Fezzan are so unused to and unprepared for rainy weather that, similar to those in Tuat and Tidikelt, they pray to be spared from it. Water is readily available at shallow depths almost everywhere.

Flora and Fauna.—The date-palm is the characteristic tree of Fezzan, and constitutes the chief wealth of the land. Many different kinds of date-palms are found in the oases: in that of Murzuk alone more than 30 varieties are counted, the most 308 esteemed being named the Tillis, Tuati and Auregh. In all Fezzan the date is the staple food, not only for men, but for camels, horses and dogs. Even the stones of the fruit are softened and given to the cattle. The huts of the poorer classes are entirely made of date-palm leaves, and the more substantial habitations consist chiefly of the same material. The produce of the tree is small, 100 full-grown trees yielding only about 40 cwt. of dates. Besides the date there are numerous olive, fig and almond trees. Various grains are cultivated. Wheat and barley are sown in winter, and in spring, summer and autumn several kinds of durra, especially ksob and gafoli. Cotton flourishes, is perennial for six or seven years, and gives large pods of moderate length of staple.

Flora and Fauna.—The date-palm is the iconic tree of Fezzan and is the main source of wealth in the area. There are many different types of date-palms found in the oases; in Murzuk alone, more than 30 varieties are recognized, with the most valued being the Tillis, Tuati, and Auregh. Throughout Fezzan, dates serve as a primary food source, not just for people but also for camels, horses, and dogs. Even the fruit's stones are softened and fed to livestock. The homes of the poorer residents are entirely made from date-palm leaves, while more substantial houses are mostly constructed using the same material. The yield from the trees is limited; 100 mature trees produce only about 40 cwt. of dates. In addition to dates, there are many olive, fig, and almond trees. Various grains are grown as well. Wheat and barley are planted in the winter, and in spring, summer, and autumn, several kinds of durra are cultivated, especially ksob and gafoli. Cotton thrives, lasts for six to seven years, and produces large pods with moderate-length fibers.

There are no large carnivora in Fezzan. In the uninhabited oases gazelles and antelopes are occasionally found. The most important animal is the camel, of which there are two varieties, the Tebu or Sudan camel and the Arabian, differing very much in size, form and capabilities. Horses and cattle are not numerous. Among birds are ostriches, falcons, vultures, swallows and ravens; in summer wild pigeons and ducks are numerous, but in winter they seek a warmer climate. There are no remarkable insects or snakes. A species of Artemia or brine shrimp, about a quarter of an inch in length, of a colour resembling the bright hue of the gold fish, is fished for with cotton nets in the “Sea of Worms,” and mixed with dates and kneaded into a paste, which has the taste and smell of salt herring, is considered a luxury by the people of Fezzan.

There are no large carnivores in Fezzan. In the uninhabited oases, gazelles and antelopes can sometimes be found. The most important animal is the camel, which comes in two varieties: the Tebu or Sudan camel and the Arabian, which differ significantly in size, shape, and abilities. Horses and cattle are not very common. Among birds, you'll find ostriches, falcons, vultures, swallows, and ravens; during the summer, wild pigeons and ducks are plentiful, but in winter, they migrate to warmer climates. There are no notable insects or snakes. A type of Artemia or brine shrimp, about a quarter inch long and similar in color to bright goldfish, is caught with cotton nets in the “Sea of Worms.” It's mixed with dates and kneaded into a paste that tastes and smells like salted herring, which is considered a delicacy by the people of Fezzan.

Inhabitants.—The total population is estimated at between 50,000 and 80,000. The inhabitants are a mixed people, derived from the surrounding Teda and Bornu on the south, Tuareg of the plateaus on the west, Berbers and Arabs from the north. The primitive inhabitants, called by their Arab conquerors Berāuna, are believed to have been of Negro origin. They no longer persist as a distinct people. In colour the present inhabitants vary from black to white, but the prevailing hue of skin is a Malay-like yellow, the features and woolly hair being Negro. The chief languages are the Kanuri or Bornu language and Arabic. Many understand Targish, the Teda and the Hausa tongues. If among such a mixed people there can be said to be any national language, it is that of Bornu, which is most widely understood and spoken. The people of Sokna, north of the Jebel-es-Suda, have a peculiar Berber dialect which Rohlfs found to be very closely allied to that of Ghadames. The men wear a haik or barakan like those of Tripoli, and a fez; short hose, and a large loose shirt called mansarīa, with red or yellow slippers, complete their toilet. Yet one often sees the large blue or white tobe of Bornu, and the litham or shawl-muffler of the Tuareg, wound round the mouth to keep out the blown sand of the desert. The women, who so long as they are young have very plump forms, and who are generally small, are more simply dressed, as a rule, in the barakan, wound round their bodies; they seldom wear shoes, but generally have sandals made of palm leaf. Like the Arab women they load arms and legs with heavy metal rings, which are of silver among the more wealthy. The hair, thickly greased with butter, soon catching the dust which forms a crust over it, is done up in numberless little plaits round the head, in the same fashion as in Bornu and the Hausa countries. Children run about naked until they attain the age of puberty, which comes very early, for mothers of ten or twelve years of age are not uncommon. The Fezzani are of a gay disposition, much given to music and dancing.

Inhabitants.—The total population is estimated to be between 50,000 and 80,000. The residents are a diverse group, originating from the nearby Teda and Bornu to the south, the Tuareg of the plateaus to the west, and Berbers and Arabs from the north. The original inhabitants, referred to as Berāuna by their Arab conquerors, are thought to have been of African descent. They no longer exist as a distinct group. In terms of skin color, the current inhabitants range from black to white, but the most common skin tone is a Malay-like yellow, with features and curly hair resembling Afro-descent. The primary languages spoken are Kanuri or Bornu and Arabic. Many people also understand Targish, Teda, and Hausa. If there is a common national language among this mixed population, it would be Bornu, which is the most widely spoken and understood. The people of Sokna, located north of Jebel-es-Suda, have a unique Berber dialect that Rohlfs found to be very similar to that of Ghadames. The men wear a haik or barakan similar to those in Tripoli, along with a fez; they also wear short trousers and a large loose shirt called mansarīa, paired with red or yellow slippers. However, it's common to see the large blue or white tobe of Bornu and the litham or shawl-muffler of the Tuareg, wrapped around their faces to shield against the desert sand. The women, who have very curvy figures while young and are generally short, usually dress more simply in the barakan wrapped around their bodies; they rarely wear shoes but typically have sandals made from palm leaves. Like the Arab women, they adorn their arms and legs with heavy metal rings, which are typically silver for those who are wealthier. Their hair, heavily greased with butter and soon coated in dust that forms a crust, is styled in numerous small braids around the head, similar to styles found in Bornu and Hausa regions. Children run around naked until they reach puberty, which occurs at a young age, as mothers aged ten or twelve are not uncommon. The Fezzani people are known for their cheerful nature and enjoy music and dancing.

Towns and Trade.—Murzuk, the present capital, which is in telegraphic communication with the town of Tripoli, lies in the western corner of the Hofra depression, in 25° 55′ N. and 14° 10′ E. It was founded about 1310, about which time the kasbah or citadel was built. The Turks repaired it, as well as the town-wall, which has, however, again fallen into a ruinous condition. Murzuk, which had in 1906 some 3000 inhabitants, is cut in two by a wide street, the dendal. The citadel and most of the houses are built of salt-saturated dried mud. Sokna, about midway between Tripoli and Murzuk, situated on a great gravel plain north of the Suda range, has a population of about 2500.

Towns and Trade.—Murzuk, the current capital, which is in telegraphic communication with the town of Tripoli, is located in the western corner of the Hofra depression, at 25° 55′ N. and 14° 10′ E. It was founded around 1310, around the time the kasbah or citadel was built. The Turks renovated it, as well as the town wall, which, however, has again fallen into a state of disrepair. Murzuk, which had about 3000 residents in 1906, is divided by a wide street called the dendal. The citadel and most of the houses are made of salt-saturated dried mud. Sokna, located roughly midway between Tripoli and Murzuk, sits on a large gravel plain north of the Suda range and has a population of about 2500.

Garama (Jerma-el-Kedima), the capital under the Garamantes and the Romans, was in the Wadi-el-Gharbi. It was a flourishing town at the time of the Arab conquest but is now deserted. Among the ruins is a well-preserved stone monument marking the southern limit of the Roman dominions in this part of Africa. The modern Jerma is a small place a little north of the site of Garama. Zuila, the capital under the Arabs, lies in a depression called the Sherguia east of Murzuk on the most direct caravan route to Barca and Egypt. Of Traghen, the capital under the Nesur dynasty, which was on the same caravan route and between Zuila and Murzuk, little besides the ruined kasbah remains.

Garama (Jerma-el-Kedima), the capital during the time of the Garamantes and the Romans, was located in Wadi-el-Gharbi. It was a thriving town when the Arabs took over but is now abandoned. Among the ruins, there's a well-preserved stone monument that marks the southern boundary of the Roman territories in this part of Africa. The modern Jerma is a small settlement just north of where Garama used to be. Zuila, the capital during the Arab period, is situated in a depression known as the Sherguia, east of Murzuk, on the main caravan route to Barca and Egypt. Of Traghen, the capital of the Nesur dynasty, which was also along that caravan route and located between Zuila and Murzuk, little more than the ruined kasbah remains.

Placed roughly midway between the countries of the central Sudan and Tripoli, Fezzan serves as a depot for caravans crossing the Sahara; its commerce is unimportant. Its most important export is that of dates. Slave dealing, formerly the most lucrative occupation of the people, is moribund owing to the stoppage of slave raiding by the European governments in their Sudan territories.

Placed roughly midway between the central Sudan and Tripoli, Fezzan acts as a hub for caravans traveling across the Sahara; its trade is not significant. Its main export is dates. The slave trade, once the most profitable business for the locals, has declined because European governments have halted slave raiding in their Sudan territories.

History.—The country formed part of the territory of the Garamantes, described by Herodotus as a very powerful people. Attempts have been made to identify the Garamantes with the Berāuna of the Arabs of the 7th century, and to the period of the Garamantes Duveyrier assigns the remains of remarkable hydraulic works, and certain tombs and rock sculptures—indications, it is held, of a Negro civilization of ancient date which existed in the northern Sahara. The Garamantes, whether of Libyan or Negro origin, had certainly a considerable degree of civilization when in the year 19 B.C. they were conquered by the proconsul L. Cornelius Balbus Minor and their country added to the Roman empire. By the Romans it was called Phazania, whence the present name Fezzan. After the Vandal invasion Phazania appears to have regained independence and to have been ruled by a Berāuna dynasty. At this time the people were Christians, but in 666 the Arabs conquered the country and all traces of Christianity seem speedily to have disappeared. Subject at first to the caliphs, an independent Arab dynasty, that of the Beni Khattab, obtained power early in the 10th century. In the 13th century the country came under the rule of the king of Kanem (Bornu), but soon afterwards the Nesur, said to have been a native or Berāuna dynasty, were in power. More probably the Nesur were hereditary governors originally appointed by the rulers of Kanem. In the 14th century the Nesur were conquered and dethroned by an Arab tribe, that of Khorman, who reduced the people of Fezzan to a state of slavery, a position from which they were rescued about the middle of the 16th century by a sherif of Morocco, Montasir-b.-Mahommed, who founded the dynasty of Beni Mahommed. This dynasty, which came into frequent conflict with the Turks, who had about the same time that Montasir secured Fezzan established themselves in Tripoli, gradually extended its borders as far as Sokna in the north. It was the Beni Mahommed who chose Murzuk as their capital. They became intermittently tributary to the pasha of Tripoli, but within Fezzan the power of the sultans was absolute. They maintained a body-guard of mamelukes, mostly Europeans—Greeks, Genoese, or their immediate descendants. The annual tribute was paid to the pasha either in money or in gold, senna or slaves. The last of the Beni Mahommed sultans was killed in the vicinity of Traghen in 1811 by El-Mukkeni, one of the lieutenants of Yusef Pasha, the last sovereign but one of the independent Karamanli dynasty of Tripoli. El-Mukkeni now made himself sultan of Fezzan, and became notorious by his slaving expeditions into the central Sudan, in which he advanced as far as Bagirmi. In 1831, Abd-el-Jelil, a chief of the Walid-Sliman Arabs, usurped the sovereign authority. After a troublous reign of ten years he was slain in battle by a Turkish force under Bakir Bey, and Fezzan was added to the Turkish empire. Towards the end of the 19th century the Turks, alarmed at the increase of French influence in the neighbouring countries, reinforced their garrison in Fezzan. The kaimakamlik is said to yield an annual revenue of £6000 only to the Tripolitan treasury.

History.—The country was part of the territory of the Garamantes, who Herodotus described as a very powerful people. Some have tried to link the Garamantes with the Berāuna of the Arabs from the 7th century. Duveyrier attributes remarkable hydraulic works, certain tombs, and rock sculptures to the Garamantes, which are believed to indicate an ancient Negro civilization that existed in the northern Sahara. The Garamantes, whether of Libyan or Negro origin, certainly had a notable level of civilization when, in the year 19 BCE, they were conquered by the proconsul L. Cornelius Balbus Minor and their land became part of the Roman Empire. The Romans called it Phazania, which led to the current name Fezzan. After the Vandal invasion, Phazania seems to have regained its independence and was ruled by a Berāuna dynasty. At this time, the people were Christians, but in 666, the Arabs conquered the area, and all signs of Christianity quickly disappeared. Initially subject to the caliphs, an independent Arab dynasty, the Beni Khattab, gained power in the early 10th century. By the 13th century, the area came under the rule of the king of Kanem (Bornu), but shortly after, the Nesur, believed to be a local or Berāuna dynasty, took control. It’s more likely that the Nesur were hereditary governors originally appointed by the rulers of Kanem. In the 14th century, they were conquered and dethroned by an Arab tribe, the Khorman, who enslaved the people of Fezzan, a condition from which they were freed around the mid-16th century by a Moroccan sherif, Montasir-b.-Mahommed, who founded the dynasty of Beni Mahommed. This dynasty often clashed with the Turks, who around the same time Montasir secured Fezzan had established themselves in Tripoli, gradually extending their territory as far as Sokna in the north. The Beni Mahommed chose Murzuk as their capital. They were intermittently tributary to the pasha of Tripoli, but within Fezzan, the sultans held absolute power. They maintained a bodyguard of mamluks, mostly Europeans—Greeks, Genoese, or their direct descendants. The annual tribute was paid to the pasha either in cash or in gold, senna, or slaves. The last sultan of the Beni Mahommed was killed near Traghen in 1811 by El-Mukkeni, a lieutenant of Yusef Pasha, the second to last ruler of the independent Karamanli dynasty of Tripoli. El-Mukkeni then made himself the sultan of Fezzan and became infamous for his slaving raids into central Sudan, reaching as far as Bagirmi. In 1831, Abd-el-Jelil, a chief of the Walid-Sliman Arabs, seized power. After a troubled ten-year reign, he was killed in battle by a Turkish force under Bakir Bey, and Fezzan was incorporated into the Turkish Empire. Toward the end of the 19th century, fearing the growing French influence in neighboring countries, the Turks strengthened their garrison in Fezzan. The kaimakamlik reportedly yields an annual revenue of only £6000 to the Tripolitan treasury.

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Authorities.—The most notable of the European travellers who have visited Fezzan, and to whose works reference should be made for more detailed information regarding it, are, taking them in the order of date, as follows: F. Hornemann, 1798; G.F. Lyon, 1819; D. Denham, H. Clapperton and W. Oudney, 1822; J. Richardson, 1845; H. Barth, 1850-1855; E. Vogel, 1854; H. Duveyrier, 1859-1861; M. von Beurmann, 1862; G. Rohlfs, 1865; G. Nachtigal, 1869; P.L. Monteil, 1892; H. Vischer, 1906. Nachtigal’s Sahara and Sudan, vol. i. (Berlin, 1879), gathers up much of the information in earlier works, and a list of the Beni Mahommed sovereigns is given in A.M.H.J. Stokvis, Manuel d’histoire, vol. i. (Leiden, 1888), p. 471. Miss Tinné (q.v.), who travelled with Nachtigal as far as Murzuk, was shortly afterwards murdered at the Sharaba wells on the road to Ghat.

Authorities.—The most notable European travelers who have visited Fezzan, and whose works should be referred to for more detailed information about the place, are, in chronological order: F. Hornemann, 1798; G.F. Lyon, 1819; D. Denham, H. Clapperton, and W. Oudney, 1822; J. Richardson, 1845; H. Barth, 1850-1855; E. Vogel, 1854; H. Duveyrier, 1859-1861; M. von Beurmann, 1862; G. Rohlfs, 1865; G. Nachtigal, 1869; P.L. Monteil, 1892; H. Vischer, 1906. Nachtigal’s Sahara and Sudan, vol. i. (Berlin, 1879), compiles much of the information from earlier works, and a list of the Beni Mahommed sovereigns is provided in A.M.H.J. Stokvis, Manuel d’histoire, vol. i. (Leiden, 1888), p. 471. Miss Tinné (q.v.), who traveled with Nachtigal as far as Murzuk, was shortly afterward murdered at the Sharaba wells on the way to Ghat.


FIACRE, SAINT (Celt. Fiachra), an anchorite of the 7th century, of noble Irish descent. We have no information concerning his life in his native country. His Acta, which have scarcely any historical value, relate that he left Ireland, and came to France with his companions. He approached St Faro, the bishop of Meaux, to whom he made known his desire to live a life of solitude in the forest. St Faro assigned him a spot called Prodilus (Brodolium), the modern Breuil, in the province of Brie. There St Fiacre built a monastery in honour of the Holy Virgin, and to it added a small house for guests, to which he himself withdrew. Here he received St Chillen (? Killian), who was returning from a pilgrimage to Rome, and here he remained until his death, having acquired a great reputation for miracles. His remains rested for a long time in the place which he had sanctified. In 1568, at the time of the religious troubles, they were transferred to the cathedral of Meaux, where his shrine may still be seen in the sacristy. Various relics of St Fiacre were given to princes and great personages. His festival is celebrated on the 30th of August. He is the patron of Brie, and gardeners invoke him as their protector. French hackney-coaches received the name of fiacre from the Hôtel St Fiacre, in the rue St Martin, Paris, where one Sauvage, who was the first to provide cabs for hire, kept his vehicles.

FIACRE, SAINT (Celt. Fiachra), a 7th-century hermit of noble Irish descent. We have no details about his life in Ireland. His Acta, which hold little historical significance, tell us that he left Ireland and came to France with his companions. He approached St. Faro, the bishop of Meaux, to express his wish to live in solitude in the forest. St. Faro gave him a place called Prodilus (Brodolium), now known as Breuil, in the Brie region. There, St. Fiacre built a monastery in honor of the Holy Virgin and added a small guesthouse, where he himself retreated. Here he welcomed St. Chillen (? Killian), who was returning from a pilgrimage to Rome, and he stayed until his death, gaining a strong reputation for performing miracles. His remains rested for a long time in the place he had made holy. In 1568, during the religious troubles, they were moved to the cathedral of Meaux, where his shrine can still be seen in the sacristy. Various relics of St. Fiacre were given to princes and notable figures. His feast day is celebrated on August 30th. He is the patron saint of Brie, and gardeners call upon him as their protector. French horse-drawn carriages got their name fiacre from the Hôtel St. Fiacre on rue St. Martin in Paris, where a man named Sauvage was the first to offer cabs for hire.

See Acta Sanctorum, Augusti vi. 598-620; J. O’Hanlon, Lives of the Irish Saints, viii. 421-447 (Dublin, 1875-1904); J.C. O’Meagher, “Saint Fiacre de la Brie,” in Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy, 3rd series, ii. 173-176.

See Acta Sanctorum, August 6, 598-620; J. O’Hanlon, Lives of the Irish Saints, vol. 8, 421-447 (Dublin, 1875-1904); J.C. O’Meagher, “Saint Fiacre de la Brie,” in Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy, 3rd series, vol. 2, 173-176.

(H. De.)

FIARS PRICES, in the law of Scotland, the average prices of each of the different sorts of grain grown in each county, as fixed annually by the sheriff, usually after the verdict of a jury; they serve as a rule for ascertaining the value of the grain due to feudal superiors, to the clergy or to lay proprietors of teinds, to landlords as a part or the whole of their rents and in all cases where the price of grain has not been fixed by the parties. It is not known when or how the practice of “striking the fiars,” as it is called, originated. It probably was first used to determine the value of the grain rents and duties payable to the crown. In confirmation of this view it seems that at first the duty of the sheriffs was merely to make a return to the court of exchequer of the prices of grain within their counties, the court itself striking the fiars; and from an old case it appears that the fiars were struck above the true prices, being regarded rather as punishments to force the king’s tenants to pay their rents than as the proper equivalent of the grain they had to pay. Co-existent, however, with these fiars, which were termed sheriffs’ fiars, there was at an early period another class called commissaries’ fiars, by which the values of teinds were regulated. They have been traced back to the Reformation, and were under the management of the commissary or consistorial courts, which then took the place of the bishops and their officials. They have now been long out of use, but they were perhaps of greater antiquity than the sheriffs’ fiars, and the model upon which these were instituted. In 1723 the court of session passed an Act of Sederunt for the purpose of regulating the procedure in fiars courts. Down to that date the practice of striking the fiars was by no means universal over Scotland; and even in those counties into which it had been introduced, there was, as the preamble of the act puts it, “a general complaint that the said fiars are struck and given out by the sheriffs without due care and inquiry into the current and just prices.” The act in consequence provided that all sheriffs should summon annually, between the 4th and the 20th of February, a competent number of persons, living in the shire, of experience in the prices of grain within its bounds, and that from these they should choose a jury of fifteen, of whom at least eight were to be heritors; that witnesses and other evidence as to the price of grain grown in the county, especially since the 1st of November preceding until the day of inquiry, were to be brought before the jury, who might also proceed on “their own proper knowledge”; that the verdict was to be returned and the sentence of the sheriff pronounced by the 1st of March; and further, where custom or expediency recommended it, the sheriff was empowered to fix fiars of different values according to the different qualities of the grain. It cannot be said that this act has remedied all the evils of which it complained. The propriety of some of its provisions has been questioned, and the competency of the court to pass it has been doubted, even by the court itself. Its authority has been entirely disregarded in one county—Haddingtonshire—where the fiars are struck by the sheriff alone, without a jury; and when this practice was called in question the court declined to interfere, observing that the fiars were better struck in Haddingtonshire than anywhere else. The other sheriffs have in the main followed the act, but with much variety of detail, and in many instances on principles the least calculated to reach the true average prices. Thus in some counties the averages are taken on the number of transactions, without regard to the quantities sold. In one case, in 1838, the evidence was so carelessly collected that the second or inferior barley fiars were 2s. 4d. higher than the first. Formerly the price was struck by the boll, commonly the Linlithgowshire boll; now the imperial quarter is always used.

FIARS PRICES, in Scotland's law, refer to the average prices for various types of grain grown in each county, determined yearly by the sheriff, typically after a jury verdict. These prices are used to establish the value of the grain owed to feudal lords, the clergy, or lay owners of tithes, and to landlords as part or all of their rents, especially when the grain price hasn't been agreed upon by the parties involved. It's unclear when or how the practice known as “striking the fiars” began. It likely originated to set the value of grain rents and duties owed to the crown. Evidence suggests that initially, sheriffs were only responsible for reporting grain prices in their counties to the court of exchequer, which would then determine the fiars. An old case indicates that the fiars were often set higher than the actual prices, serving more as penalties to compel the king’s tenants to pay their rents than as fair compensation for the grain owed. Alongside these fiars, which were called sheriffs’ fiars, there was an earlier system known as commissaries’ fiars that regulated the value of tithes. These can be traced back to the Reformation and were managed by the commissary or consistorial courts, replacing the bishops and their officials. While these have long been obsolete, they might have existed before the sheriffs' fiars and may have influenced their establishment. In 1723, the court of session enacted an Act of Sederunt to regulate the procedures in fiars courts. Prior to this date, the practice of determining fiars was not uniformly practiced across Scotland; even in the counties where it was, there were widespread complaints, as noted in the act's preamble, that sheriffs were striking and issuing fiars without proper diligence and consideration of fair prices. Consequently, the act mandated that all sheriffs should summon a reasonable number of knowledgeable individuals from the shire between February 4th and 20th to form a jury of fifteen, with at least eight being heritors. They were to gather evidence regarding the prices of grain grown in the county, particularly from November 1st of the previous year until the inquiry date. The jury could also base their verdict on their own knowledge. The verdict was to be returned and the sheriff's decision issued by March 1st. Additionally, if tradition or practicality warranted, the sheriff could set fiars at different values based on the grain's quality. However, it can't be claimed that this act fixed all the issues it addressed. Some of its provisions have faced criticism, and even the court has questioned its authority to enact it. Its regulations have been completely ignored in one county—Haddingtonshire—where the sheriff alone sets the fiars without jury input; when this was challenged, the court chose not to intervene, stating that the fiars in Haddingtonshire were more accurately set than elsewhere. Other sheriffs mostly adhered to the act, but with considerable variations and often using less effective methods to determine true average prices. In some counties, averages are based on the number of transactions rather than the amounts sold. In one instance in 1838, the data was so poorly collected that the prices for second-rate barley were set at 2s. 4d. higher than for first-rate barley. Previously, prices were set by the boll, typically the Linlithgowshire boll; now, the imperial quarter is consistently used.

The origin of the plural word fiars (feors, feers, fiers) is uncertain. Jamieson, in his Dictionary, says that it comes from the Icelandic fe, wealth; Paterson derives it from an old French word feur, an average; others connect it with the Latin forum (i.e. market). The New English Dictionary accepts the two latter connexions. On the general subject of fiars prices see Paterson’s Historical Account of the Fiars in Scotland (Edin., 1852); Connell, On Tithes; Hunter’s Landlord and Tenant.

The origin of the plural word fiars (feors, feers, fiers) is unclear. Jamieson, in his Dictionary, states that it comes from the Icelandic fe, meaning wealth; Paterson traces it back to an old French word feur, meaning average; others link it to the Latin forum (i.e. market). The New English Dictionary supports the latter two connections. For more on fiars prices, see Paterson’s Historical Account of the Fiars in Scotland (Edin., 1852); Connell, On Tithes; Hunter’s Landlord and Tenant.


FIBRES (or Fibers, in American spelling; from Lat. fibra, apparently connected either with filum, thread, or findere, to split), the general term for certain structural components of animal and vegetable tissue utilized in manufactures, and in respect of such uses, divided for the sake of classification into textile, papermaking, brush and miscellaneous fibres.

FIBERS (or Fibers, in American spelling; from Lat. fibra, seemingly related to either filum, meaning thread, or findere, meaning to split), is the general term for certain structural components of animal and plant tissue used in manufacturing. For the purposes of classification, these are divided into textile, papermaking, brush, and miscellaneous fibers.

I. Textile Fibres are mostly products of the organic world, elaborated in their elongated form to subserve protective functions in animal life (as wool and epidermal hairs, &c.) or as structural components of vegetable tissues (flax, hemp and wood cells). It may be noted that the inorganic world provides an exception to this general statement in the fibrous mineral asbestos (q.v.), which is spun or twisted into coarse textiles. Other silicates are also transformed by artificial processes into fibrous forms, such as “glass,” which is fused and drawn or spun to a continuous fibre, and various “slags” which, in the fused state, are transformed into “slag wool.” Lastly, we note that a number of metals are drawn down to the finest dimensions, in continuous lengths, and these are woven into cloth or gauze, such metallic cloths finding valuable applications in the arts. Certain metals in the form of fine wire are woven into textile fabrics used as dress materials. Such exceptional applications are of insignificant importance, and will not be further considered in this article.

I. Textile Fibres mainly come from the organic world, taking shape in their long form to serve protective roles in animal life (like wool and hair) or as structural elements in plant tissues (such as flax, hemp, and wood cells). It's worth mentioning that the inorganic world presents an exception to this general rule with the fibrous mineral asbestos (q.v.), which is spun or twisted into rough textiles. Other silicates can also be processed artificially into fibrous shapes, like "glass," which is melted and drawn or spun into continuous fibers, and various "slags" that, when melted, turn into "slag wool." Finally, we observe that some metals are drawn into very thin strands, continually, and are woven into cloth or gauze—these metallic fabrics are useful in various applications in the arts. Certain metals in the form of fine wire are woven into textile fabrics used for clothing. However, these exceptional uses are of minimal significance and won't be discussed further in this article.

The common characteristics of the various forms of matter comprised in the widely diversified groups of textile fibres are those of the colloids. Colloidal matter is intrinsically devoid of structure, and in the mass may be regarded as homogeneous; whereas crystalline matter in its proximate forms assumes definite and specific shapes which express a complex of internal stresses. The properties of matter which condition its adaptation to structural functions, first as a constituent of a living individual, and afterwards as a textile fibre, are homogeneous continuity of substance, with a high degree of interior cohesion, and associated with an irreducible minimum of elasticity or extensibility. The colloids show an infinite diversity of variations in these essential properties: certain of them, and notably cellulose (q.v.), maintain 310 these characteristics throughout a cycle of transformations such as permit of their being brought into a soluble plastic form, in which condition they may be drawn into filaments in continuous length. The artificial silks or lustra-celluloses are produced in this way, and have already taken an established position as staple textiles. For a more detailed account of these products see Cellulose.

The common traits of the different types of matter found in the varied groups of textile fibers are those of colloids. Colloidal matter lacks distinct structure and can be considered homogeneous as a whole; in contrast, crystalline matter takes on definite shapes due to complex internal stresses. The properties of matter that allow it to serve structural functions, first as part of a living being and later as a textile fiber, include a consistent uniformity of substance, a high level of internal cohesion, and a minimum of elasticity or extensibility. Colloids demonstrate endless variations in these key properties: some, particularly cellulose (q.v.), retain these characteristics through transformations that allow them to be converted into a soluble plastic form, from which they can be drawn into continuous filaments. Artificial silks or lustras-celluloses are created in this way and have already become established as essential textiles. For a more detailed account of these products see Cellulose.

The animal fibres are composed of nitrogenous colloids of which the typical representatives are the albumens, fibrines and gelatines. They are of highly complex constitution and their characteristics have only been generally investigated. The vegetable fibre substances are celluloses and derivatives of celluloses, also typically colloidal bodies. The broad distinction between the two groups is chiefly evident in their relationship to alkalis. The former group are attacked, resolved and finally dissolved, under conditions of action by no means severe. The celluloses, on the other hand, and therefore the vegetable fibres, are extraordinarily resistant to the action of alkalis.

Animal fibers consist of nitrogenous colloids, with typical examples being albumens, fibrines, and gelatines. They have a very complex structure, and their properties have only been studied in a general way. Plant fiber substances are celluloses and cellulose derivatives, which are also typically colloidal. The major difference between the two groups is mainly seen in how they react to alkalis. The first group can be attacked, broken down, and eventually dissolved under relatively mild conditions. In contrast, celluloses, and therefore plant fibers, are extremely resistant to alkali action.

The animal fibres are relatively few in number but of great industrial importance. They occur as detached units and are of varying dimensions; sheep’s wool having lengths up to 36 in., the fleeces being shorn for textile uses at lengths of 2 to 16 in.; horse hair is used in lengths of 4 to 24 in., whereas the silks may be considered as being produced in continuous length, “reeled silks” having lengths measured in hundreds of yards, but “spun silks” are composed of silk fibres purposely broken up into short lengths.

The animal fibers are relatively few but very important for industry. They come as separate pieces and vary in size; sheep’s wool can be as long as 36 inches, with fleeces sheared for textile use at lengths of 2 to 16 inches. Horsehair is used in lengths from 4 to 24 inches, while silks can be thought of as produced in continuous lengths, with "reeled silks" measuring hundreds of yards, whereas "spun silks" are made from silk fibers intentionally cut into shorter lengths.

The vegetable fibres are extremely numerous and of very diversified characteristics. They are individualized units only in the case of seed hairs, of which cotton is by far the most important; with this exception they are elaborated as more or less complex aggregates. The bast tissues of dicotyledonous annuals furnish such staple materials as flax, hemp, rhea or ramie and jute. The bast occurs in a peripheral zone, external to the wood and beneath the cortex, and is mechanically separated from the stem, usually after steeping, followed by drying.

The vegetable fibers are incredibly varied and have many different characteristics. They are distinct units only when it comes to seed hairs, with cotton being the most significant example; apart from that, they are formed as more or less complex aggregates. The bast tissues of dicotyledonous annuals provide important materials like flax, hemp, rhea (or ramie), and jute. The bast is located in a peripheral zone, outside the wood and beneath the cortex, and is usually separated from the stem through a process of soaking followed by drying.

The commercial forms of these fibres are elongated filaments composed of the elementary bast cells (ultimate fibres) aggregated into bundles. The number of these as any part of the filament may vary from 3 to 20 (see figs.). In the processes of refinement preparatory to the spinning (hackling, scutching) and in the spinning process itself, the fibre-bundles are more or less subdivided, and the divisibility of the bundles is an element in the textile value of the raw material. But the value of the material is rather determined by the length of the ultimate fibres (for, although not the spinning unit, the tensile strength of the yarn is ultimately limited by the cohesion of these fibres), qualified by the important factor of uniformity.

The commercial forms of these fibers are long strands made up of basic bast cells (ultimate fibers) grouped into bundles. The number of these in any part of the strand can range from 3 to 20 (see figs.). During the refining processes before spinning (hackling, scutching) and in the spinning process itself, the fiber bundles are more or less broken down, and how easily the bundles can be divided affects the textile quality of the raw material. However, the material's value is primarily determined by the length of the ultimate fibers (since, even though they are not the spinning unit, the strength of the yarn is ultimately limited by how well these fibers stick together), along with the crucial factor of uniformity.

Thus, the ultimate fibre of flax has a length of 25 to 35 mm.; jute, on the other hand, 2 to 3 mm.; and this disparity is an essential condition of the difference of values of these fibres. Rhea or ramie, to cite another typical instance, has an ultimate fibre of extraordinary length, but of equally conspicuous variability, viz. from 50 to 200 mm. The variability is a serious impediment in the preparation of the material for spinning and this defect, together with low drawing or spinning quality, limits the applications of this fibre to the lower counts or grades of yarn.

Thus, the ultimate fiber of flax is about 25 to 35 mm long; jute, on the other hand, is only 2 to 3 mm. This difference is a key factor in the varying values of these fibers. Rhea or ramie, as another example, has an ultimate fiber that is exceptionally long but also has significant variability, ranging from 50 to 200 mm. This variability poses a serious challenge when preparing the material for spinning, and combined with its low drawing or spinning quality, it limits the use of this fiber to lower counts or grades of yarn.

The monocotyledons yield still more complex fibre aggregates, which are the fibro-vascular bundles of leaves and stems. These complex structures as a class do not yield to the mechanical treatment by which the bast fibres are subdivided, nor is there any true spinning quality such as is conditioned by bringing the ultimate fibres into play under the drawing process, which immediately precedes the twisting into yarn. Such materials are therefore only used for the coarsest textiles, such as string or rope. An exception to be noted in passing is to be found in the pine apple (Ananassa Sativa) the fibres of which are worked into yarns and cloth of the finest quality. The more important fibres of this class are manila, sisal, phormium. A heterogeneous mass of still more complex fibre aggregates, in many cases the entire stem (cereal straws, esparto), in addition to being used in plaited form, e.g. in hats, chairs, mats, constitute the staple raw material for paper manufacturers, requiring a severe chemical treatment for the separation of the ultimate fibres.

The monocotyledons produce even more complex fiber bundles, which are the fibro-vascular bundles found in leaves and stems. These complex structures, as a group, do not break down through the mechanical processes that divide bast fibers, nor do they have any true spinning quality necessary for pulling the ultimate fibers into play right before twisting them into yarn. As a result, these materials are only used for the roughest textiles, like string or rope. However, an exception worth mentioning is the pineapple (Ananassa Sativa), whose fibers are turned into high-quality yarns and fabrics. The more significant fibers in this category include manila, sisal, and phormium. There's also a mixed collection of even more complex fiber aggregates, often including entire stems (like cereal straws and esparto), which are used in braided forms, for example, in hats, chairs, and mats. These fibers serve as the main raw material for paper manufacturers, requiring extensive chemical processing to separate the ultimate fibers.

In this class we must include the woods which furnish wood pulps of various classes and grades. Chemical processes of two types, (a) acid and (b) alkaline, are also employed in resolving the wood, and the resolution not only effects a complete isolation of the wood cells, but, by attacking the hydrolysable constituents of the wood substance (lignocellulose), the cells are obtained in the form of cellulose. These cellulose pulps are known in commerce as “sulphite pulps” and “soda pulps” respectively. In addition to these raw materials or “half stuffs” the paper-maker employs the rejecta of the vegetable and textile industries, scutching, spinning and cloth wastes of all kinds, which are treated by chemical (boiling) and mechanical means (beating) to separate the ultimate fibres and reduce them to the suitable dimensions (0.5-2.0 mm.). These papermaking fibres have also to be reckoned with as textile raw materials, in view of a new and growing industry in “pulp yarns” (Papierstoffgarn), a coarse textile obtained by treating paper as delivered in narrow strips from the paper machine; the strips are reeled, dried to retain 30-40% moisture, and in this condition subjected to the twisting operation, which confers the cylindrical form and adds considerably to the strength of the fibrous strip. The following are the essential characteristics of the economically important fibres.

In this class, we need to include the woods that provide various types and grades of wood pulps. Two types of chemical processes are used to break down the wood: (a) acid and (b) alkaline. This process not only completely separates the wood cells but also targets the hydrolysable components of the wood substance (lignocellulose), resulting in cellulose. These cellulose pulps are commercially known as “sulphite pulps” and “soda pulps” respectively. Besides these raw materials or “half stuffs,” paper makers also use waste products from the vegetable and textile industries, like scutching, spinning, and all kinds of fabric scraps. These wastes are treated using chemical (boiling) and mechanical (beating) methods to separate the ultimate fibers and reduce them to suitable dimensions (0.5-2.0 mm). These papermaking fibers should also be considered as textile raw materials, given the rise of a new industry in “pulp yarns” (Papierstoffgarn), a coarse textile made from processing paper in narrow strips from the paper machine. These strips are rolled, dried to keep 30-40% moisture, and then twisted to form a cylindrical shape, which greatly increases the strength of the fibrous strip. The following are the key characteristics of the economically important fibers.

Animal.—A. Silk. (a) The true silks are produced by the Bombyx Mori, the worm feeding on the leaves of the mulberry. The fibre is extruded as a viscous liquid from the glands of the worm, and solidifies to a cylindrical thread. The cohesion of these threads in pairs gives to raw silk the form of a dual cylinder (Plate I. fig. 2). For textile purposes the thread is reeled from the cocoon, and several units, five and upwards, are brought together and suitably twisted. (b) The “Wild” silks are produced by a large variety of insects, of which the most important are the various species of Antherea, which yield the Tussore silks. These silks differ in form and composition from the true silks. While they consist of a “dual” thread, each unit of these is complex, being made up of a number of fibrillae. This unit thread is quadrangular in section, and of larger diameter than the true silk, the mean breadth being 0.052 mm., as compared with 0.018, the mean diameter of the true silks. The variations in structure as well as in dimensions are, however, very considerable.

Animal.—A. Silk. (a) True silks come from the Bombyx Mori, a worm that feeds on mulberry leaves. The fiber is released as a thick liquid from the worm's glands and hardens into a cylindrical thread. The threads stick together in pairs, giving raw silk the shape of a dual cylinder (Plate I. fig. 2). For textile use, the thread is unwound from the cocoon, and several strands, typically five or more, are combined and twisted appropriately. (b) The “Wild” silks are produced by many different insects, with the most notable being various species of Antherea, which produce Tussore silks. These silks vary in form and makeup compared to true silks. While they consist of a “dual” thread, each strand is complex, made up of several fibrils. This unit thread is quadrangular in shape and has a larger diameter than true silk, with an average width of 0.052 mm compared to 0.018 mm for true silks. There are, however, significant variations in structure and dimensions.

B. Epidermal hairs. Of these (a) wool, the epidermal protective covering of sheep, is the most important. The varying species of the animal produce wools of characteristic qualities, varying considerably in fineness, in length of staple, in composition and in spinning quality. Hence the classing of the fleeces or raw wool followed by the elaborate processes of selection, i.e. “sorting” and preparation, which precede the actual spinning or twisting of the yarn. These consist in entirely freeing the fibres and sorting them mechanically (combing, &c.), thereafter forming them into continuous lengths of parallelized units. This is followed by the spinning process which consists in a simultaneous drawing and twisting, and a continuous production of the yarn with the structural characteristics of worsted yarns. The shorter staple—from 5 to 25% of average fleeces—is prepared by the “carding” process for the spinning operation, in which drawing and twisting are simultaneous, the length spun being then wound up, and the process being consequently intermittent. This section of the industry is known as “woollen spinning” in contrast to the former or “worsted spinning.”

B. Epidermal hairs. Among these, (a) wool, the protective skin covering of sheep, is the most significant. Different species of sheep produce wool with distinct qualities, which can vary greatly in fineness, length, composition, and spinning quality. This leads to the classification of fleeces or raw wool followed by detailed selection processes, i.e. “sorting” and preparation, that take place before the actual spinning or twisting of the yarn. These processes involve completely separating the fibers and sorting them mechanically (combing, etc.), and then forming them into continuous lengths of parallel units. Next is the spinning process, which combines drawing and twisting simultaneously, resulting in the continuous production of yarn with the structural qualities of worsted yarns. The shorter staple—from 5 to 25% of average fleeces—is prepared using the “carding” process for spinning, where drawing and twisting occur at the same time, and the spun length is then wound up, making the process intermittent. This part of the industry is called “woollen spinning,” in contrast to the earlier mentioned “worsted spinning.”

(b) An important group of raw material closely allied to the wools are the epidermal hairs of the Angora goat (mohair), the llama, alpaca. Owing to their form and the nature of the substance of which they are composed, they possess more lustre than the wools. They present structural differences from sheep wools which influence the processes by which they are prepared or spun, and the character of the yarns; but the differences are only of subordinate moment.

(b) A significant type of raw material closely related to wools is the epidermal hair of the Angora goat (mohair), as well as llama and alpaca fibers. Due to their shape and the makeup of the fibers, they have more sheen than wools. They have structural differences from sheep wool, which affect how they are processed and spun, and the characteristics of the yarn; however, these differences are relatively minor.

Plate I.

Plate 1.

Fig. 1.—RAW SILK. Bombyx mori. Filament of bave, viewed in length. × 110. Fig. 2.—RAW SILK. Bombyx mori. Single fibres in transverse section showing each fibre or “bave” as dual cylinder. × 235.
Fig. 3.—ARTIFICIAL “SILK.” Lustra-cellulose viscose process, single fibres in transverse section × 235. Normal type—polygon of 5 sides—with concave sides due to contact of the component units of textile filament. Fig. 4.—WOOL FIBRES. Australian merino viewed in length, × 235. Surface imbrications—the structural cause of true felting properties.
Fig. 5.—FLAX STEM. Linum usitatissimum. Crosswise section of stem, × 235, showing bast fibres occupying central zone. Fig. 6.—RAMIE. Section of bast region, × 235. Showing bast fibres bundles but only slightly occurring as individuals.

Plate II.

Plate 2.

Fig. 7.—JUTE. Bast bundles. Section of bast region, × 235, showing agglomerated bundles of bast fibre, each bundle representing a spinning unit or filament. Fig. 8.—MAIZE STEM. Zea mais. Fibro-vascular bundle in section. × 110, typical of monocotyledonous structure.
Fig. 9.—COTTON. FLAX. RAMIE. JUTE. Ultimate fibres in the length, × 110. Portions selected to show typical structural characteristics. Fig. 10.—COTTON. FLAX. RAMIE. JUTE. Ultimate fibres—transverse section, × 110. Note similarity of ramie to cotton and jute to flax.
Fig. 11.—ESPARTO. Cellulose. Ultimate fibres of paper making pulp. Typical fusiform bast fibres. × 65. Fig. 12.—SECTION OF HAND-MADE PAPER. × 110. Ultimate component fibres disposed in every plane.

(c) Various animal hairs, such as those of the cow, camel 311 and rabbit, are also employed; the latter is largely worked into the class of fabrics known as felts. In these the hairs are compacted together by taking advantage of the peculiarity of structure which causes the imbrications of the surface.

(c) Different animal hairs, like those from cows, camels, and rabbits, are also used; the rabbit hair, in particular, is mainly made into a type of fabric called felt. In felt, the hairs are pressed together by utilizing the unique structure that causes the surface to interlock. 311

(d) Horse hair is employed in its natural form as an individual filament or monofil.1

(d) Horsehair is used in its natural state as a single strand or monofilament.1

Vegetable Fibres.—The subjoined scheme of classification sets out the morphological structural characteristics of the vegetable fibres:—

Vegetable Fibres.—The following classification scheme outlines the structural characteristics of vegetable fibers:—

Produced from
Dicotyledons. Monocotyledons.
A. Seed hairs. D. Fibro-vascular bundles.
B. Bast fibres. E. Entire leaves and stems.
C. Bast aggregates.  

In the list of the more important fibrous raw materials subjoined, the capital letter immediately following the name refers the individual to its position in this classification. In reference to the important question of chemical composition and the actual nature of the fibre substance, it may be premised that the vegetable fibres are composed of cellulose, an important representative of the group of carbohydrates, of which the cotton fibre substance is the chemical prototype, mixed and combined with various derivatives belonging to the subgroups. (a) Carbohydrates. (b) Unsaturated compounds of benzenoid and furfuroid constitutions. (c) “Fat and wax” derivatives, i.e. groups belonging to the fatty series, and of higher molecular dimensions—of such compound celluloses the following are the prototypes:—

In the list of more important fibrous raw materials below, the capital letter right after the name indicates its position in this classification. Regarding the important question of chemical composition and the actual nature of the fiber, it should be noted that vegetable fibers are made up of cellulose, an important member of the carbohydrate group, with cotton fiber being the chemical standard, mixed with various derivatives from the subgroups. (a) Carbohydrates. (b) Unsaturated compounds of benzenoid and furfuroid structures. (c) “Fat and wax” derivatives, i.e. groups from the fatty series, and of higher molecular dimensions—of such compound celluloses, the following are the key examples:—

(a) Cellulose combined and mixed with “pectic” bodies (i.e. pecto-celluloses), flax, rhea.

(a) Cellulose mixed with "pectic" substances (i.e. pecto-celluloses), flax, rhea.

(b) Cellulose combined with unsaturated groups or ligno-celluloses, jute and the woods.

(b) Cellulose mixed with unsaturated groups or ligno-celluloses, jute, and various types of wood.

(c) Cellulose combined and mixed with higher fatty acids, alcohols, ethers, cuto-celluloses, protective epidermal covering of leaves.

(c) Cellulose mixed with higher fatty acids, alcohols, ethers, and cutocelluloses, serves as a protective outer layer for leaves.

The letters a, b, c in the table below and following the capitals, which have reference to the structural basis of classification, indicate the main characteristics of the fibre substances. (See also Cellulose.)

The letters a, b, c in the table below and next to the capital letters, which relate to the structural basis of classification, highlight the main characteristics of the fiber substances. (See also Cellulose.)

Miscellaneous.—Various species of the family Palmaceae yield fibrous products of value, of which mention must be made of the following. Raffia, epidermal strips of the leaves of Raphia ruffia (Madagascar), R. taedigera (Japan), largely employed as binder twine in horticulture, replacing the “bast” (linden) formerly employed. Coir, the fibrous envelope of the fruit of the Cocos nucifera, extensively used for matting and other coarse textiles. Carludovica palmata (Central America) yields the raw material for Panama hats, the Corypha australis (Australia) yields a similar product. The leaves of the date palm, Phoenix dactylifera, are employed locally in making baskets and mats, and the fibro-vascular bundles are isolated for working up into coarse twine and rope; similarly, the leaves of the Elaeis guineensis, the fruit of which yields the “palm oil” of commerce, yield a fibre which finds employment locally (Africa) for special purposes. Chamaerops humilis, the dwarf palm, yields the well-known “Crin d’Afrique.” Locally (Algiers) it is twisted into ropes, but its more general use, in Europe, is in upholstery as a stuffing material. The cereal straws are used in the form of plait in the making of hats and mats. Esparto grass is also used in the making of coarse mats.

Miscellaneous.—Different species from the Palm family produce valuable fibrous products, including the following. Raffia, which comes from the outer strips of the leaves of Raphia ruffia (Madagascar) and R. taedigera (Japan), is mainly used as binder twine in gardening, replacing the previously used "bast" (linden). Coir, the fibrous covering of the fruit of the Cocos nucifera, is widely used for making mats and other rough textiles. Carludovica palmata (Central America) provides the raw material for Panama hats, while Corypha australis (Australia) generates a similar product. The leaves of the date palm, Phoenix dactylifera, are used locally to make baskets and mats, and the vascular bundles are separated for crafting coarse twine and rope; similarly, the leaves of Elaeis guineensis, which produces the commercial “palm oil,” provide a fiber that is utilized locally in Africa for specific purposes. Chamaerops humilis, the dwarf palm, produces the well-known “Crin d’Afrique.” Locally in Algiers, it is twisted into ropes, but in Europe, it is more commonly used in upholstery as a stuffing material. Cereal straws are used in braided form to create hats and mats, while esparto grass is also employed for making coarse mats.

  Botanical Identity.
Genus and Order.
Country of Origin. Dimensions of Ultimate. Textile Uses.
Cotton, A.a Gossypium Tropical and subtropical 12-40 mm. 0.019-0.025. Universal. Also as a raw material
  Malvaceae   countries   Av. 28 mm.   in chemical industries, notably
          explosives, celluloid.
Flax, B.a Linum Temperate (and subtropical) 6.60 mm. 0.011-0.025. General. Special effects in lustre
  Linaceae   countries, chiefly European   Av. 28 mm.   damasks. In India and America
          plants grown for seed (linseed).
Hemp, B.a Cannabis Temperate countries, chiefly 5-55 mm. 0.016-0.050. Coarser textiles, sail-cloth,
  Cannabineae   Europe   Av. 22. mm. Av. 0.022 rope and twine.
Ramie, B.a Boehmeria Tropical countries (some 60-200 mm. 0.03-0.08. Coarse textiles. Cost of preparation
  Urticaceae   temperate)   Av. 120 mm. Av. 0.050   for fine textiles prohibitive.
Jute, B.b Corchorus Tropical countries, chiefly 1.5-5 mm. 0.020-0.025. Coarse textiles, chiefly “Hessians”
  Tiliaceae   India   Av. 2.5 mm. Av. 0.022   and sacking. “Line” spun yarns
          used in cretonne and furniture
          textiles.
   B.b Crotalaria India 4.0-12.0. 0.025-0.050. Twine and rope. Coarse textiles.
  Leguminosae     Av. 7.5. Av. 0.022  
Hibiscus, B.b Hibiscus Tropical, chiefly India 2-6 mm. 0.014-0.033. Coarse textiles. H. Elams has been
        Av. 4 mm. Av. 0.021   extensively used in making mats.
Sida, B.b Sida Tropical and subtropical 1.5-4 mm. 0.013-0.02. Coarse textiles. Appears capable of
  Malvaceae     Av. 2 mm. Av. 0.015   substituting jute.
Lime or Linden, Tilia European countries, chiefly 1.5 mm. 0.014-0.020. Matting and binder twine.
  C.b Tiliaceae   Russia   Av. 2 mm. Av. 0.016  
Mulberry, C Broussonetia Far East 5-31 mm. 0.02-0.04. Paper and paper cloths.
  Moraceae     Av. 15 mm. Av. 0.03  
Monocotyledons—        
  Manila, D Musa Tropical countries, chiefly 3-12 mm. 0.016-0.032. Twine and ropes. Produces papers
  Musaceae Philippine Islands   Av. 6 mm. Av. 0.024   of special quality.
  Sisal, D Agave Tropical countries, chiefly 1.5-4 mm. 0.020-0.032. Twine and ropes.
  Amaryllideae   Central America   Av. 2.5. Av. 0.024  
  Yucca    do. 0.5-6 mm. 0.01-0.02.    do.
  Liliaceae      
  Sansevieria East Indies, Ceylon, East 1.5-6 mm. 0.015-0.026.    do.
  Liliaceae   Africa   Av. 3 mm. Av. 0.020  
  Phormium, D Phormium tenax New Zealand 5.0-15 mm. 0.010-0.020. Twine and ropes. Distinguished by
  Liliaceae     Av. 9 mm. Av. 0.016   high yield of fibre from green
          leaf.
  Pine-apple, D Ananassa Tropical East and West 3.0-9.0 mm. 0.004-0.008. Textiles of remarkable fineness.
  Bromeliaceae   Indies   Av. 5. Av. 0.006   Exceptional fineness of ultimate
          fibre.

The processes by which the fibres are transformed into textile fabrics are in the main determined by their structural features. The following are the distinctive types of treatment.

The ways in which the fibers are turned into textile fabrics are mostly influenced by their structural characteristics. Here are the different types of treatment.

A. The fibre is in virtually continuous lengths. The textile yarn is produced by assembling together the unit threads, which are wound together and suitably twisted (silk; artificial silk).

A. The fiber comes in almost continuous lengths. The textile yarn is made by gathering the individual threads, which are twisted together and appropriately spun (silk; artificial silk).

B. The fibres in the form of units of variable short dimensions are treated by more or less elaborate processes of scutching, hackling, combing, with the aim of producing a mass of free parallelized units of uniform dimensions; these are then laid together and drawn into continuous bands of sliver and roving, which are finally drawn and twisted into yarns. In this group are comprised the larger number of textile products, such as 312 cotton, wool, flax and jute, and it also includes at the other extreme the production of coarse textiles, such as twine and rope.

B. The fibers, in the form of short units of varying lengths, are processed through various techniques like scutching, hackling, and combing to create a mass of free, aligned units of consistent size. These are then gathered and drawn into continuous strands of sliver and roving, which are finally twisted into yarn. This category includes the majority of textile products, such as 312 cotton, wool, flax, and jute, as well as the production of rough textiles like twine and rope.

C. The fibres of still shorter dimensions are treated in various ways for the production of a fabric in continuous length.

C. The fibers that are even shorter are processed in different ways to create fabric that is made in continuous lengths.

The distinction of type of manufacturing processes in which the relatively short fibres are utilized, either as disintegrated units or comminuted long fibres, follows the lines of division into long and short fibres; the long fibres are worked into yarns by various processes, whereas the shorter fibres are agglomerated by both dry and wet processes to felted tissues or felts. It is obvious, however, that these distinctions do not constitute rigid dividing lines. Thus the principles involved in felting are also applied in the manipulation of long fibre fabrics. For instance, woollen goods are closed or shrunk by milling, the web being subjected to a beating or hammering treatment in an apparatus known as “the Stocks,” or is continuously run through squeezing rollers, in weak alkaline liquids. Flax goods are “closed” by the process of beetling, a long-continued process of hammering, under which the ultimate fibres are more or less subdivided, and at the same time welded or incorporated together. As already indicated, paper, which is a web composed of units of short dimensions produced by deposition from suspension in water and agglomerated by the interlacing of the component fibres in all planes within the mass, is a species of textile. Further, whereas the silks are mostly worked up in the extreme lengths of the cocoon, there are various systems of spinning silk wastes of variable short lengths, which are similar to those required for spinning the fibres which occur naturally in the shorter lengths.

The difference in types of manufacturing processes that use relatively short fibers, whether as broken-down units or processed long fibers, aligns with the classification of long and short fibers. Long fibers are turned into yarns through various methods, while shorter fibers are combined using both dry and wet processes to create felted materials or felts. However, it’s clear that these distinctions aren't strict boundaries. The principles of felting are also applied when working with long fiber fabrics. For example, woolen products are finished or shrunk by milling, where the fabric is subjected to beating or hammering in a machine called “the Stocks,” or it’s continuously passed through squeezing rollers in weak alkaline solutions. Flax fabrics are finished through a process called beetling, which involves extended hammering that subdivides the ultimate fibers while also fusing them together. Additionally, paper, which is made of short fibers created by being suspended in water and woven together in every direction within the mass, is a type of textile. Moreover, while silks are primarily produced from the long strands of the cocoon, there are various methods for spinning silk waste of shorter lengths, similar to those methods used for spinning naturally occurring shorter fibers.

The fibres thus enumerated as commercially and industrially important have established themselves as the result of a struggle for survival, and each embodies typical features of utility. There are innumerable vegetable fibres, many of which are utilized in the locality or region of their production, but are not available for the highly specialized applications of modern competitive industry to qualify for which a very complex range of requirements has to be met. These include primarily the factors of production and transport summed up in cost of production, together with the question of regularity of supply; structural characteristics, form and dimensions, including uniformity of ultimate unit and adaptability to standard methods of preparing and spinning, together with tenacity and elasticity, lustre. Lastly, composition, which determines the degree of resistance to chemical disintegrating influences as well as subsidiary questions of colour and relationship to colouring matters. The quest for new fibres, as well as modified methods of production of those already known, require critical investigation from the point of view of established practice. The present perspective outline of the group will be found to contain the elements of a grammar of the subject. But those who wish to pursue the matter will require to amplify this outlined picture by a study of the special treatises which deal with general principles, as well as the separate articles on the various fibres.

The fibers listed as commercially and industrially important have emerged from a struggle for survival, each showcasing typical features of utility. There are countless vegetable fibers, many of which are used locally where they are produced but aren't suitable for the highly specialized needs of modern competitive industry, which require a complex range of criteria to be met. These criteria primarily include production and transportation factors summarized by production costs, along with supply consistency; structural characteristics, forms and dimensions, including consistency in the ultimate unit and adaptability to standard processing and spinning methods, along with strength, elasticity, and luster. Finally, composition plays a role in determining resistance to chemical degradation, as well as additional considerations of color and compatibility with dyes. The search for new fibers, as well as modified production methods for those already known, demands critical examination based on established practices. This current overview of the group will present the foundational elements of the subject. However, those interested in diving deeper will need to expand this outline by studying specialized texts that address general principles and individual articles on various fibers.

Analysis and Identification.—For the analysis of textile fabrics and the identification of component fibre, a special treatise must be consulted. The following general facts are to be noted as of importance.

Analysis and Identification.—To analyze textile fabrics and identify the component fibers, a specific guide should be referenced. Here are some important general facts to keep in mind.

All animal fibres are effectively dissolved by 10% solution of caustic potash or soda. The fabric or material is boiled in this solution for 10 minutes and exhaustively washed. Any residue will be vegetable or cellulose fibre. It must not be forgotten that the chemical properties of the fibre substances are modified more or less by association in combination with colouring matters and mordants. These may, in many cases, be removed by treatments which do not seriously modify the fibre substances.

All animal fibers are effectively dissolved by a 10% solution of caustic potash or soda. The fabric or material is boiled in this solution for 10 minutes and thoroughly washed. Any residue left will be vegetable or cellulose fiber. It's important to remember that the chemical properties of the fiber substances can be altered to some extent by their association with coloring agents and mordants. In many cases, these can be removed with treatments that do not significantly change the fiber substances.

Wool is distinguished from silk by its relative resistance to the action of sulphuric acid. The cold concentrated acid rapidly dissolves silk as well as the vegetable fibres. The attack on wool is slow, and the epidermal scales of wool make their appearance. The true silks are distinguished from the wild silks by the action of concentrated hydrochloric acid in the cold, which reagent dissolves the former, but has only a slight effect on Tussore silk. After preliminary resolution by these group reagents, the fabric is subjected to microscopical analysis for the final identification of its component fibres (see H. Schlichter, Journal Soc. Chem. Ind., 1890, p. 241).

Wool is different from silk because it is more resistant to sulphuric acid. The cold concentrated acid quickly dissolves silk as well as plant fibers. The damage to wool happens slowly, revealing the outer scales of the wool. True silks can be distinguished from wild silks by how they react to cold concentrated hydrochloric acid; the former dissolves, while Tussore silk is only slightly affected. After this initial testing with the group reagents, the fabric is then examined microscopically for the final identification of its fiber components (see H. Schlichter, Journal Soc. Chem. Ind., 1890, p. 241).

A scheme for the commercial analysis or assay of vegetable fibres, originally proposed by the author,2 and now generally adopted, includes the following operations:—

A plan for the commercial analysis or testing of plant fibers, originally suggested by the author, 2 and now widely accepted, includes the following steps:—

1. Determination of moisture.

Moisture measurement.

2. Determination of ash left after complete ignition.

2. Measuring the ash remaining after complete ignition.

3. Hydrolysis:

3. Hydrolysis:

(a) loss of weight after boiling the raw fibre with a 1% caustic soda solution for five minutes;

(a) weight loss after boiling the raw fiber in a 1% caustic soda solution for five minutes;

(b) loss after boiling for one hour.

(b) loss after boiling for one hour.

4. Determination of cellulose: the white residue after

4. Determination of cellulose: the white residue after

(a) boiling for five minutes with 1% caustic soda,

(a) boiling for five minutes with 1% lye,

(b) exposure to chlorine gas for one hour,

(b) exposure to chlorine gas for one hour,

(c) boiling with basic sodium sulphite solution.

(c) boiling with a basic sodium sulfite solution.

5. Mercerizing: the loss of weight after digestion with a 20% solution of sodium hydrate for one hour in the cold.

5. Mercerizing: the weight loss that occurs after digesting with a 20% solution of sodium hydroxide for one hour in cold conditions.

6. Nitration: the weight of the product obtained after digestion with a mixture of equal volumes of sulphuric and nitric acids for one hour in the cold.

6. Nitration: the weight of the product obtained after digestion with a mixture of equal parts of sulfuric and nitric acids for one hour at a low temperature.

7. Acid purification: treatment of the raw fibre with 20% acetic acid for one minute, the product being washed with water and alcohol, and then dried.

7. Acid purification: treating the raw fiber with 20% acetic acid for one minute, then washing the product with water and alcohol, and finally drying it.

8. Determination of the total carbon by combustion.

8. Measuring the total carbon by burning.

II. Papermaking.—The papermaking industry (see Paper) employs as raw materials a large proportion of the vegetable fibre products already enumerated, and, for the reasons incidentally mentioned, they may be, and are, employed in a large variety of forms: in fact any fibrous material containing over 30% “cellulose” and yielding ultimate fibres of a length exceeding 1 mm. can be used in this industry. Most important staples are cotton and flax; these are known to the paper-maker as “rag” fibres, rags, i.e. cuttings of textile fabrics, new and old, being their main source of supply. These are used for writing and drawing papers. In the class of “printings” two of the most important staples are wood pulp, prepared by chemical treatment from both pine and foliage woods, and in England esparto cellulose, the cellulose obtained from esparto grass by alkali treatment; the cereal straws are also used and are resolved into cellulose by alkaline boiling followed by bleaching. In the class of “wrappings” and miscellaneous papers a large number of other materials find use, such as various residues of manufacturing and preparing processes, scutching wastes, ends of rovings and yarns, flax, hemp and manila rope waste, adansonia bast, and jute wastes, raw (cuttings) and manufactured (bagging). Other materials have been experimentally tried, and would no doubt come into use on their papermaking merits, but as a matter of fact the actually suitable raw materials are comprised in the list above enumerated, and are limited in number, through the influence of a number of factors of value or utility.

II. Papermaking.—The papermaking industry (see Paper) uses a large amount of the vegetable fiber products mentioned earlier, and for the reasons discussed, they can be used in a variety of forms. In fact, any fibrous material with more than 30% cellulose and fibers longer than 1 mm can be utilized in this industry. The most important materials are cotton and flax; these are referred to by paper-makers as “rag” fibers, with rags, meaning cuttings of both new and old textile fabrics, being their primary source of supply. These are used for writing and drawing papers. In the “printing” category, two key materials are wood pulp, which is made through chemical processing from both pine and broadleaf trees, and in England, esparto cellulose, derived from esparto grass through alkaline treatment; cereal straws are also used, converted into cellulose through alkaline boiling and bleaching. In the realm of “wrapping” and various papers, numerous other materials are utilized, including different residues from manufacturing and preparation processes, scutching waste, ends of rovings and yarns, as well as waste from flax, hemp, manila rope, adansonia bast, and both raw (cuttings) and processed (bagging) jute. Other materials have been tested and could eventually be adopted for their papermaking potential, but currently, the suitable raw materials are limited to the ones listed above, influenced by various factors affecting their value or usefulness.

III. Brush Fibres, &c.—In addition to the textile industries there are manufactures which utilize fibres of both animal and vegetable character. The most important of these is brush-making. The familiar brushes of everyday use are extremely diversified in form and texture. The supplies of animal fibres are mainly drawn from the badger, hog, bear, sable, squirrel and horse. These fibres and bristles cover a large range of effects. Brushes required for cleansing purposes are composed of fibres of a more or less hard and resilient character, such as horse hairs, and other tail hairs and bristles. For painting work brushes of soft quality are employed, graduating for fine work into the extreme softness of the “camel hair” pencil. Of vegetable fibres the following are used in this industry. The Caryota urens furnishes the Kittul fibre, obtained from the base of the leaf stalks. Piassava is obtained from the Attalea funifera, also from the Leopoldina piassaba (Brazil). Palmyra fibre is obtained from the Borassus flabellifer. These are all members of the natural order of the Palmaceae. Mexican fibre, or Istle, is obtained from the agave. The fibre known as Whisk, largely 313 used for dusting brushes, is obtained from various species of the Gramineae; the “Mexican Whisk” from Epicampeas macroura; and “Italian Whisk” from Andropogon. The coir fibre mentioned above in connexion with coarse textiles is also extensively used in brush-making. Aloe and Agave fibres in their softer forms are also used for plasterers’ brushes. Many of the whitewashes and cleansing solutions used in house decoration are alkaline in character, and for such uses advantage is taken of the specially resistant character of the cellulose group of materials.

III. Brush Fibres, &c.—Along with the textile industries, there are businesses that make products using both animal and plant fibers. The most notable of these is brush-making. The everyday brushes we use come in a wide variety of shapes and textures. Animal fibers mainly come from badger, hog, bear, sable, squirrel, and horse. These fibers and bristles offer a wide range of effects. Brushes designed for cleaning purposes are made from fibers that are fairly hard and resilient, like horse hairs and other tail hairs and bristles. For painting, softer brushes are used, with finer work requiring brushes that are as soft as the “camel hair” pencil. Among plant fibers used in this industry is the Caryota urens, which provides Kittul fiber sourced from the base of the leaf stalks. Piassava is obtained from Attalea funifera and also from Leopoldina piassaba (Brazil). Palmyra fiber comes from the Borassus flabellifer. All of these belong to the Palmaceae family. Mexican fiber, or Istle, comes from the agave plant. The fiber known as Whisk, commonly used for dusting brushes, is sourced from various species of the Gramineae; “Mexican Whisk” is from Epicampeas macroura, and “Italian Whisk” is from Andropogon. The coir fiber previously mentioned regarding coarse textiles is also widely used in brush-making. Softer Aloe and Agave fibers are also utilized for plasterers brushes. Many of the whitewashes and cleaning solutions used in home decoration are alkaline, and for these applications, materials from the cellulose group, known for their resistance, are particularly beneficial.

Stuffing and Upholstery.—Another important use for fibrous materials is for filling or stuffing in connexion with the seats and cushions in upholstery. In the large range of effects required, a corresponding number and variety of products find employment. One of the most important is the floss or seed-hair of the Eriodendron anfractuosum, known as Kapok, the use of which in Europe was created by the Dutch merchants who drew their supplies from Java. The fibre is soft, silky and elastic, and maintains its elasticity in use. Many fibres when used in the mass show, on the other hand, a tendency to become matted and compressed in use, and to restore them to their original state the fibre requires to be removed and subjected to a teasing or carding process. This defect limits the use of other “flosses” or seed hairs in competition with Kapok. Horse hair is extensively used in this industry, as are also wool flocks and other short animal hairs and wastes.

Stuffing and Upholstery.—Another important use for fibrous materials is for filling or stuffing in connection with the seats and cushions in upholstery. Given the wide range of effects needed, a corresponding number and variety of products are used. One of the most significant is the floss or seed hair of the Eriodendron anfractuosum, known as Kapok, which was introduced in Europe by Dutch merchants who sourced it from Java. The fiber is soft, silky, and elastic, and it retains its elasticity during use. Many fibers tend to become matted and compressed over time, requiring them to be removed and processed through teasing or carding to restore their original state. This limitation affects the use of other “flosses” or seed hairs that compete with Kapok. Horsehair is widely used in this industry, as well as wool flock and other short animal hairs and waste.

Hats and Matting.—For these manufactures a large range of the fibrous products above described are employed, chiefly in their natural or raw state.

Hats and Matting.—A wide variety of the fibrous products mentioned above are used for these items, mainly in their natural or raw form.

Bibliography.—The list of works appended comprises only a small fraction of the standard literature of the subject, but they are sufficiently representative to enable the specialist, by referring to them, to cover the subject-matter. F.H. Bowman, The Structure of the Wood Fibre (1885), The Structure of Cotton Fibre (1882); Cross, Bevan and King, Indian Fibres and Fibrous Substances (London, 1887); C.F. Cross, Report on Miscellaneous Fibres, Colonial Indian Exhibition, 1886 (London, 1887); Cross and Bevan, Cellulose, Researches on Cellulose, i. and ii. (London, 1895-1905); C.R. Dodge, A Descriptive Catalogue of Useful Fibre Plants of the World (Report No. 9, U.S. Dept. of Agriculture, Washington, 1897); von Höhmel, Die Mikroskopie der technisch verwendeten Faserstoffe (Leipzig, 1905); J.J. Hummel, The Dyeing of Textile Fabrics (London, 1885); J.M. Matthews, The Textile Fibres, their Physical, Microscopical and Chemical Properties (New York, 1904); H. Müller, Die Pflanzenfaser (Braunschweig, 1877); H. Schlichter, “The Examination of Textile Fibres and Fabrics” (Jour. Soc. Chem. Ind., 1890, 241); M. Vetillart, Études sur les fibres végétales textiles (Paris, 1876); Sir T.H. Wardle, Silk and Wild Silks, original memoirs in connexion with Col. Ind. Ex., 1886, Jubilee Ex. Manchester, 1887; Sir G. Watt, Dictionary of Economic Products of India (London, 1891); Wiesner, Die Rohstoffe des Pflanzenreichs (Leipzig, 1873); O.N. Witt, Chemische Technologie der Gespinnstfasern (Braunschweig, 1888); Kew Bulletin; The Journal of the Imperial Institute; The Journal of the Society of Arts; W.I. Hannam, The Textile Fibres of Commerce (London, 1902); J. Jackson, Commercial Botany; J. Zipser, Die Textilen Rohmaterialien (Wien, 1895); F. Zetzsche, Die wichtigsten Faserstoffe der europäischen Industrie (Leipzig, 1895).

References.—The list of works included here represents just a small portion of the key literature on the topic, but they are significant enough for specialists to reference and gain a comprehensive understanding of the subject. F.H. Bowman, The Structure of the Wood Fibre (1885), The Structure of Cotton Fibre (1882); Cross, Bevan and King, Indian Fibres and Fibrous Substances (London, 1887); C.F. Cross, Report on Miscellaneous Fibres, Colonial Indian Exhibition, 1886 (London, 1887); Cross and Bevan, Cellulose, Researches on Cellulose, i. and ii. (London, 1895-1905); C.R. Dodge, A Descriptive Catalogue of Useful Fibre Plants of the World (Report No. 9, U.S. Dept. of Agriculture, Washington, 1897); von Höhmel, Die Mikroskopie der technisch verwendeten Faserstoffe (Leipzig, 1905); J.J. Hummel, The Dyeing of Textile Fabrics (London, 1885); J.M. Matthews, The Textile Fibres, their Physical, Microscopical and Chemical Properties (New York, 1904); H. Müller, Die Pflanzenfaser (Braunschweig, 1877); H. Schlichter, “The Examination of Textile Fibres and Fabrics” (Jour. Soc. Chem. Ind., 1890, 241); M. Vetillart, Études sur les fibres végétales textiles (Paris, 1876); Sir T.H. Wardle, Silk and Wild Silks, original memoirs in connection with Col. Ind. Ex., 1886, Jubilee Ex. Manchester, 1887; Sir G. Watt, Dictionary of Economic Products of India (London, 1891); Wiesner, Die Rohstoffe des Pflanzenreichs (Leipzig, 1873); O.N. Witt, Chemische Technologie der Gespinnstfasern (Braunschweig, 1888); Kew Bulletin; The Journal of the Imperial Institute; The Journal of the Society of Arts; W.I. Hannam, The Textile Fibres of Commerce (London, 1902); J. Jackson, Commercial Botany; J. Zipser, Die Textilen Rohmaterialien (Wien, 1895); F. Zetzsche, Die wichtigsten Faserstoffe der europäischen Industrie (Leipzig, 1895).

(C. F. C.)

1 See also Alpaca, Felt, Mohair, Shoddy and Wool.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ See also Alpaca, Felt, Mohair, Shoddy and Wool.

2 Col. Ind. Exhibition, 1886, Miscellaneous Reports.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Col. Ind. Exhibition, 1886, Miscellaneous Reports.


FIBRIN, or Fibrine, a protein formed by the action of the so-called fibrin-ferment on fibrinogen, a constituent of the blood-plasma of all vertebrates. This change takes place when blood leaves the arteries, and the fibrin thus formed occasions the clotting which ensues (see Blood). To obtain pure coagulated fibrin it is best to heat blood-plasma (preferably that of the horse) to 56° C. The usual method of beating a blood-clot with twigs and removing the filamentous fibrin which attaches itself to them yields a very impure product containing haemoglobin and much globulin; moreover, it is very difficult to purify. Fibrin is a very voluminous, tough, strongly elastic, jelly-like substance; when denaturalized by heat, alcohol or salts, it behaves as any other coagulated albumin.

FIBRIN, or Fibrin, is a protein created when fibrin-ferment acts on fibrinogen, a component of the blood plasma in all vertebrates. This transformation occurs when blood exits the arteries, and the resulting fibrin causes the clotting that follows (see Blood). To get pure coagulated fibrin, it's best to heat blood plasma (preferably from a horse) to 56° C. The common method of beating a blood clot with twigs and removing the thread-like fibrin that sticks to them produces a very impure product that contains hemoglobin and a lot of globulin; additionally, it’s quite challenging to purify. Fibrin is a bulky, tough, highly elastic, jelly-like substance; when denatured by heat, alcohol, or salts, it behaves like any other coagulated albumin.


FICHTE, IMMANUEL HERMANN (originally Hartmann) VON (1797-1879), German philosopher, son of J.G. Fichte, was born at Jena on the 18th of July 1797. Having held educational posts at Saarbrücken and Düsseldorf, in 1836 he became extraordinary professor of philosophy at Bonn, and in 1840 full professor. In 1842 he received a call to Tübingen, retired in 1867, and died at Stuttgart on the 8th of August 1879. The most important of his comprehensive writings are: System der Ethik (1850-1853), Anthropologie (1856, 3rd ed. 1876), Psychologie (1864-1873), Die theistische Weltansicht (1873). In 1837 he had founded the Zeitschrift für Philosophie as an organ of his views, more especially on the subject of the philosophy of religion, where he was in alliance with C.H. Weisse; but, whereas Weisse thought that the Hegelian structure was sound in the main, and that its imperfections might be mended, Fichte held it to be incurably defective, and spoke of it as a “masterpiece of erroneous consistency or consistent error.” Fichte’s general views on philosophy seem to have changed considerably as he advanced in years, and his influence has been impaired by certain inconsistencies and an appearance of eclecticism, which is strengthened by his predominantly historical treatment of problems, his desire to include divergent systems within his own, and his conciliatory tone. His philosophy is an attempt to reconcile monism (Hegel) and individualism (Herbart) by means of theism (Leibnitz). He attacks Hegelianism for its pantheism, its lowering of human personality, and imperfect recognition of the demands of the moral consciousness. God, he says, is to be regarded not as an absolute but as an Infinite Person, whose nature it is that he should realize himself in finite persons. These persons are objects of God’s love, and he arranges the world for their good. The direct connecting link between God and man is the “genius,” a higher spiritual individuality existing in man by the side of his lower, earthly individuality. Fichte, in short, advocates an ethical theism, and his arguments might easily be turned to account by the apologist of Christianity. In his conception of finite personality he recurs to something like the monadism of Leibnitz. His insistence on moral experience is connected with his insistence on personality. One of the tests by which Fichte discriminates the value of previous systems is the adequateness with which they interpret moral experience. The same reason that made him depreciate Hegel made him praise Krause (panentheism) and Schleiermacher, and speak respectfully of English philosophy. It is characteristic of Fichte’s almost excessive receptiveness that in his latest published work, Der neuere Spiritualismus (1878), he supports his position by arguments of a somewhat occult or theosophical cast, not unlike those adopted by F.W.H. Myers. He also edited the complete works and literary correspondence of his father, including his life.

Fichte, Immanuel Hermann (originally Hartmann) FROM (1797-1879), German philosopher, son of J.G. Fichte, was born in Jena on July 18, 1797. After holding teaching positions in Saarbrücken and Düsseldorf, he became an extraordinary professor of philosophy at Bonn in 1836 and a full professor in 1840. In 1842, he was invited to Tübingen, retired in 1867, and passed away in Stuttgart on August 8, 1879. His major works include: System der Ethik (1850-1853), Anthropologie (1856, 3rd ed. 1876), Psychologie (1864-1873), and Die theistische Weltansicht (1873). In 1837, he founded the Zeitschrift für Philosophie to promote his views, especially on the philosophy of religion, collaborating with C.H. Weisse; however, while Weisse believed the Hegelian framework was fundamentally sound and could be improved, Fichte viewed it as irreparably flawed, referring to it as a “masterpiece of erroneous consistency or consistent error.” Fichte's overall philosophical views appear to have changed significantly over time, and his influence has been weakened by some inconsistencies and a perception of eclecticism, which is reinforced by his primarily historical approach to problems, his inclination to integrate differing systems into his own, and his conciliatory tone. His philosophy attempts to reconcile monism (Hegel) and individualism (Herbart) through theism (Leibnitz). He criticizes Hegelianism for its pantheism, its diminishment of human personality, and its inadequate recognition of moral consciousness demands. He argues that God should be seen not as an absolute being but as an Infinite Person, whose essence is to realize Himself in finite persons. These individuals are seen as objects of God's love, and He organizes the world for their benefit. The direct link between God and humanity is the “genius,” a higher spiritual individuality that coexists with man's lower, earthly individuality. In summary, Fichte advocates for an ethical theism, and his arguments could easily benefit a Christian apologist. In his view of finite personality, he echoes something akin to Leibnitz's monadism. His focus on moral experience is tied to his emphasis on personality. One criterion by which Fichte evaluates the worth of earlier philosophies is how well they interpret moral experience. The same reasoning that led him to criticize Hegel also caused him to praise Krause (panentheism) and Schleiermacher, while he spoke respectfully of English philosophy. It is typical of Fichte’s nearly excessive openness that in his last published work, Der neuere Spiritualismus (1878), he supports his position with arguments that are somewhat occult or theosophical in nature, similar to those used by F.W.H. Myers. He also edited his father’s complete works and literary correspondence, including his biography.

See R. Eucken, “Zur Erinnerung I. H. F.,” in Zeitschrift für Philosophie, ex. (1897); C.C. Scherer, Die Gotteslehre von I. H. F. (1902); article by Karl Hartmann in Allegemeine deutsche Biographie xlviii. (1904). Some of his works were translated by J.D. Morell under the title of Contributions to Mental Philosophy (1860).

See R. Eucken, “In Memory of I. H. F.,” in Journal of Philosophy, ex. (1897); C.C. Scherer, The Doctrine of God by I. H. F. (1902); article by Karl Hartmann in General German Biography xlviii. (1904). Some of his works were translated by J.D. Morell under the title Contributions to Mental Philosophy (1860).


FICHTE, JOHANN GOTTLIEB (1762-1814), German philosopher, was born at Rammenau in Upper Lusatia on the 19th of May 1762. His father, a ribbon-weaver, was a descendant of a Swedish soldier who (in the service of Gustavus Adolphus) was left wounded at Rammenau and settled there. The family was distinguished for piety, uprightness, and solidity of character. With these qualities Fichte himself combined a certain impetuosity and impatience probably derived from his mother, a woman of a somewhat querulous and jealous disposition.

Fichte, Johann Gottlieb (1762-1814), German philosopher, was born in Rammenau, Upper Lusatia, on May 19, 1762. His father, a ribbon weaver, was a descendant of a Swedish soldier who, serving under Gustavus Adolphus, was left wounded in Rammenau and decided to settle there. The family was known for their piety, integrity, and strong character. Fichte also had a certain impulsiveness and impatience, likely inherited from his mother, who had a somewhat complaining and jealous nature.

At a very early age the boy showed remarkable mental vigour and moral independence. A fortunate accident which brought him under the notice of a neighbouring nobleman, Freiherr von Miltitz, was the means of procuring him a more excellent education than his father’s circumstances would have allowed. He was placed under the care of Pastor Krebel at Niederau. After a short stay at Meissen he was entered at the celebrated school at Pforta, near Naumburg. In 1780 he entered the university of Jena as a student of theology. He supported himself mainly by private teaching, and during the years 1784-1787 acted as tutor in various families of Saxony. In 1787, after an unsuccessful application to the consistory for pecuniary assistance, he seems to have been driven to miscellaneous literary work. A tutorship at Zürich was, however, obtained in the spring of 1788, and Fichte spent in Switzerland two of the happiest years of his life. He made several valuable acquaintances, 314 among others Lavater and his brother-in-law Hartmann Rahn, to whose daughter, Johanna Maria, he became engaged.

At a very young age, the boy showed impressive mental energy and moral independence. A fortunate event that caught the attention of a nearby nobleman, Freiherr von Miltitz, helped him receive a better education than what his father's situation would have allowed. He was placed under the guidance of Pastor Krebel in Niederau. After a brief stay in Meissen, he enrolled at the renowned school in Pforta, near Naumburg. In 1780, he started studying theology at the university of Jena. He mostly supported himself by private tutoring, and from 1784 to 1787, he worked as a tutor for various families in Saxony. In 1787, after an unsuccessful request for financial help from the consistory, he seems to have turned to various literary work. However, he secured a tutoring position in Zürich in the spring of 1788, and Fichte spent two of the happiest years of his life in Switzerland. He made several valuable connections, including Lavater and his brother-in-law Hartmann Rahn, to whose daughter, Johanna Maria, he became engaged. 314

Settling at Leipzig, still without any fixed means of livelihood, he was again reduced to literary drudgery. In the midst of this work occurred the most important event of his life, his introduction to the philosophy of Kant. At Schulpforta he had read with delight Lessing’s Anti-Goeze, and during his Jena days had studied the relation between philosophy and religion. The outcome of his speculations, Aphorismen über Religion und Deismus (unpublished, date 1790; Werke, i. 1-8), was a species of Spinozistic determinism, regarded, however, as lying altogether outside the boundary of religion. It is remarkable that even for a time fatalism should have been predominant in his reasoning, for in character he was opposed to such a view, and, as he has said, “according to the man, so is the system of philosophy he adopts.”

Settling in Leipzig, still without a stable way to make a living, he found himself back in the grind of literary work. In the middle of this, the most important event of his life happened: he was introduced to Kant's philosophy. At Schulpforta, he had enjoyed reading Lessing's Anti-Goeze, and during his time in Jena, he studied the relationship between philosophy and religion. The result of his thoughts, Aphorismen über Religion und Deismus (unpublished, date 1790; Werke, i. 1-8), presented a kind of Spinozistic determinism, which he viewed as completely separate from religion. It’s noteworthy that for a while, fatalism was dominant in his reasoning, even though he was personally against that view. As he stated, “according to the person, so is the system of philosophy they adopt.”

Fichte’s Letters of this period attest the influence exercised on him by the study of Kant. It effected a revolution in his mode of thinking; so completely did the Kantian doctrine of the inherent moral worth of man harmonize with his own character, that his life becomes one effort to perfect a true philosophy, and to make its principles practical maxims. At first he seems to have thought that the best method for accomplishing his object would be to expound Kantianism in a popular, intelligible form. He rightly felt that the reception of Kant’s doctrines was impeded by their phraseology. An abridgment of the Kritik der Urtheilskraft was begun, but was left unfinished.

Fichte’s Letters from this time show how much he was influenced by studying Kant. It completely changed the way he thought; the Kantian idea of the inherent moral value of humanity matched his own beliefs so well that his life became about striving to develop a genuine philosophy and turning its principles into practical guidelines. Initially, he seemed to believe that the best way to achieve this goal was to explain Kantianism in a way that was accessible and clear. He correctly recognized that people found Kant’s concepts difficult to grasp because of how they were expressed. He started an abridgment of the Kritik der Urtheilskraft, but it was left unfinished.

Fichte’s circumstances had not improved. It had been arranged that he should return to Zürich and be married to Johanna Rahn, but the plan was overthrown by a commercial disaster which affected the fortunes of the Rahn family. Fichte accepted a post as private tutor in Warsaw, and proceeded on foot to that town. The situation proved unsuitable; the lady, as Kuno Fischer says, “required greater submission and better French” than Fichte could yield, and after a fortnight’s stay Fichte set out for Königsberg to see Kant. His first interview was disappointing; the coldness and formality of the aged philosopher checked the enthusiasm of the young disciple, though it did not diminish his reverence. He resolved to bring himself before Kant’s notice by submitting to him a work in which the principles of the Kantian philosophy should be applied. Such was the origin of the work, written in four weeks, the Versuch einer Kritik aller Offenbarung (Essay towards a Critique of all Revelation). The problem which Fichte dealt with in this essay was one not yet handled by Kant himself, the relations of which to the critical philosophy furnished matter for surmise. Indirectly, indeed, Kant had indicated a very definite opinion on theology: from the Critique of Pure Reason it was clear that for him speculative theology must be purely negative, while the Critique of Practical Reason as clearly indicated the view that the moral law is the absolute content or substance of any religion. A critical investigation of the conditions under which religious belief was possible was still wanting. Fichte sent his essay to Kant, who approved it highly, extended to the author a warm reception, and exerted his influence to procure a publisher. After some delay, consequent on the scruples of the theological censor of Halle, who did not like to see miracles rejected, the book appeared (Easter, 1792). By an oversight Fichte’s name did not appear on the title-page, nor was the preface given, in which the author spoke of himself as a beginner in philosophy. Outsiders, not unnaturally, ascribed the work to Kant. The Allgemeine Literatur-Zeitung went so far as to say that no one who had read a line of Kant’s writings could fail to recognize the eminent author of this new work. Kant himself corrected the mistake, at the same time highly commending the work. Fichte’s reputation was thus secured at a stroke.

Fichte’s situation hadn’t improved. He was supposed to return to Zürich and marry Johanna Rahn, but their plans were disrupted by a financial disaster that impacted the Rahn family. Fichte took a job as a private tutor in Warsaw and walked there. The arrangement didn’t work out; the woman, as Kuno Fischer pointed out, “needed more obedience and better French” than Fichte could provide, so after two weeks, he headed to Königsberg to meet Kant. His first meeting was disappointing; the coldness and formality of the elderly philosopher dampened the enthusiasm of the young student, though it didn’t lessen his respect. He decided to get Kant’s attention by submitting a work that applied the principles of Kantian philosophy. This led to the creation of his essay, written in four weeks, the Versuch einer Kritik aller Offenbarung (Essay towards a Critique of all Revelation). The issue that Fichte tackled in this essay hadn’t been addressed by Kant yet, which raised questions regarding its relationship to critical philosophy. Kant had indirectly shared a clear opinion on theology: from the Critique of Pure Reason, it was evident that for him, speculative theology had to be purely negative, while the Critique of Practical Reason clearly suggested that moral law is the core content or essence of any religion. A critical investigation into the conditions under which religious belief was possible was still needed. Fichte sent his essay to Kant, who praised it highly, welcomed the author warmly, and used his influence to find a publisher. After some delays due to the hesitations of the theological censor in Halle, who was uncomfortable with the rejection of miracles, the book was published (Easter, 1792). Due to an oversight, Fichte’s name didn’t appear on the title page, nor was the preface included, where he referred to himself as a beginner in philosophy. Unsurprisingly, outsiders attributed the work to Kant. The Allgemeine Literatur-Zeitung went as far as to say that anyone who had read even a line of Kant’s writings couldn’t fail to recognize the author of this new work. Kant himself corrected this mistake while praising the essay. Fichte’s reputation was thus established almost overnight.

The Critique of Revelation marks the culminating point of Fichte’s Kantian period. The exposition of the conditions under which revealed religion is possible turns upon the absolute requirements of the moral law in human nature. Religion itself is the belief in this moral law as divine, and such belief is a practical postulate, necessary in order to add force to the law. It follows that no revealed religion, so far as matter or substance is concerned, can contain anything beyond this law; nor can any fact in the world of experience be recognized by us as supernatural. The supernatural element in religion can only be the divine character of the moral law. Now, the revelation of this divine character of morality is possible only to a being in whom the lower impulses have been, or are, successful in overcoming reverence for the law. In such a case it is conceivable that a revelation might be given in order to add strength to the moral law. Religion ultimately then rests upon the practical reason, and expresses some demand or want of the pure ego. In this conclusion we can trace the prominence assigned by Fichte to the practical element, and the tendency to make the requirements of the ego the ground for all judgment on reality. It was not possible that having reached this point he should not press forward and leave the Kantian position.

The Critique of Revelation is the peak of Fichte’s Kantian period. The explanation of the conditions under which revealed religion is possible hinges on the absolute requirements of the moral law in human nature. Religion itself is the belief in this moral law as divine, and this belief is a practical necessity for strengthening the law. Therefore, no revealed religion can contain anything beyond this law regarding matter or substance; nor can we recognize any fact in the world of experience as supernatural. The supernatural aspect of religion can only be the divine nature of the moral law. Now, the revelation of this divine nature in morality can only be possible for a being who has either overcome reverence for the law through lower impulses or has had those impulses successfully overcome. In such a case, it’s conceivable that a revelation might be given to enhance the moral law. Ultimately, religion is based on practical reason and reflects a demand or need of the pure ego. In this conclusion, we can see Fichte's focus on the practical element and his inclination to make the demands of the ego the basis for all judgments about reality. Having reached this point, it was inevitable that he would push beyond and move away from the Kantian stance.

This success was coincident with an improvement in the fortunes of the Rahn family, and the marriage took place at Zürich in October 1793. The remainder of the year he spent at Zürich, slowly perfecting his thoughts on the fundamental problems left for solution in the Kantian philosophy. During this period he published anonymously two remarkable political works, Zurückforderung der Denkfreiheit von den Fürsten Europas and Beiträge zur Berichtigung der Urtheile des Publicums über die französische Revolution. Of these the latter is much the more important. The French Revolution seemed to many earnest thinkers the one great outcry of modern times for the liberty of thought and action which is the eternal heritage of every human being. Unfortunately the political condition of Germany was unfavourable to the formation of an unbiassed opinion on the great movement. The principles involved in it were lost sight of under the mass of spurious maxims on social order which had slowly grown up and stiffened into system. To direct attention to the true nature of revolution, to demonstrate how inextricably the right of liberty is interwoven with the very existence of man as an intelligent agent, to point out the inherent progressiveness of state arrangements, and the consequent necessity of reform or amendment, such are the main objects of the Beiträge; and although, as is often the case with Fichte, the arguments are too formal and the distinctions too wire-drawn, yet the general idea is nobly conceived and carried out. As in the Critique of Revelation so here the rational nature of man and the conditions necessary for its manifestation or realization become the standard for critical judgment.

This success happened at the same time as an improvement in the fortunes of the Rahn family, and the marriage took place in Zürich in October 1793. He spent the rest of the year in Zürich, gradually refining his thoughts on the key problems left unsolved in Kantian philosophy. During this time, he anonymously published two significant political works, Zurückforderung der Denkfreiheit von den Fürsten Europas and Beiträge zur Berichtigung der Urtheile des Publicums über die französische Revolution. Of these, the latter is much more important. The French Revolution appeared to many serious thinkers as the major demand of modern times for the freedom of thought and action, which is the fundamental right of every human being. Unfortunately, the political situation in Germany made it difficult to form an unbiased opinion about this great movement. The principles involved were obscured by a tangled mess of false maxims about social order that had developed and stiffened into a rigid system over time. The main goals of the Beiträge are to draw attention to the true nature of revolution, to show how closely intertwined the right to liberty is with human existence as intelligent beings, and to highlight the inherent progressiveness of state arrangements, which creates a need for reform or change. Although, as is often the case with Fichte, the arguments can be overly formal and the distinctions overly refined, the overall idea is grandly conceived and executed. As in the Critique of Revelation, here too, the rational nature of man and the necessary conditions for its expression or realization serve as the standard for critical judgment.

Towards the close of 1793 Fichte received an invitation to succeed K.L. Reinhold as extraordinary professor of philosophy at Jena. This chair, not in the ordinary faculty, had become, through Reinhold, the most important in the university, and great deliberation was exercised in selecting his successor. It was desired to secure an exponent of Kantianism, and none seemed so highly qualified as the author of the Critique of Revelation. Fichte, while accepting the call, desired to spend a year in preparation; but as this was deemed inexpedient he rapidly drew out for his students an introductory outline of his system, and began his lectures in May 1794. His success was instantaneous and complete. The fame of his predecessor was altogether eclipsed. Much of this success was due to Fichte’s rare power as a lecturer. In oral exposition the vigour of thought and moral intensity of the man were most of all apparent, while his practical earnestness completely captivated his hearers. He lectured not only to his own class, but on general moral subjects to all students of the university. These general addresses, published under the title Bestimmung des Gelehrten (Vocation of the Scholar), were on a subject dear to Fichte’s heart, the supreme importance of the highest intellectual culture and the duties incumbent on those who had received it. Their tone is stimulating and lofty.

Towards the end of 1793, Fichte got an invitation to take over as extraordinary professor of philosophy at Jena, succeeding K.L. Reinhold. This position, which wasn't part of the regular faculty, had become the most significant in the university thanks to Reinhold, and a lot of careful consideration went into choosing his successor. They wanted someone who could represent Kantianism, and Fichte, the author of the Critique of Revelation, seemed like the best fit. When he accepted the position, he wanted to spend a year preparing, but since that was considered impractical, he quickly created an introductory outline of his system for his students and started his lectures in May 1794. His success was immediate and complete, overshadowing that of his predecessor. Much of this achievement was due to Fichte’s exceptional talent as a lecturer. His vigorous thoughts and moral intensity were evident in his oral presentations, and his genuine earnestness captivated his audience. He lectured not just to his own class but on general moral topics to all university students. These general talks, published under the title Bestimmung des Gelehrten (Vocation of the Scholar), focused on a topic close to Fichte’s heart: the immense value of the highest intellectual culture and the responsibilities of those who have attained it. Their tone is inspiring and lofty.

The years spent at Jena were unusually productive; indeed, the completed Fichtean philosophy is contained in the writings of this period. A general introduction to the system is given in the tractate Über den Begriff der Wissenschaftslehre (On the Notion of the Theory of Science), 1794, and the theoretical 315 portion is worked out in the Grundlage der gesammten Wissenschaftslehre (Foundation of the whole Theory of Science, 1794) and Grundriss des Eigenthümlichen d. Wissenschaftslehre (Outline of what is peculiar in the Theory of Science, 1794). To these were added in 1797 a First and a Second Introduction to the Theory of Science, and an Essay towards a new Exposition of the Theory of Science. The Introductions are masterly expositions. The practical philosophy was given in the Grundlage des Naturrechts (1796) and System der Sittenlehre (1798). The last is probably the most important of all Fichte’s works; apart from it, his theoretical philosophy is unintelligible.

The years spent at Jena were incredibly productive; in fact, the complete Fichtean philosophy is found in the writings from this time. A general introduction to the system is provided in the tract Über den Begriff der Wissenschaftslehre (On the Notion of the Theory of Science), 1794, and the theoretical part is detailed in the Grundlage der gesammten Wissenschaftslehre (Foundation of the Whole Theory of Science, 1794) and Grundriss des Eigenthümlichen d. Wissenschaftslehre (Outline of What is Peculiar in the Theory of Science, 1794). In 1797, he added a First and a Second Introduction to the Theory of Science, along with an Essay Towards a New Exposition of the Theory of Science. The Introductions are brilliant explanations. The practical philosophy was outlined in the Grundlage des Naturrechts (1796) and System der Sittenlehre (1798). The latter is probably the most significant of all Fichte’s works; without it, his theoretical philosophy makes no sense.

During this period Fichte’s academic career had been troubled by various storms, the last so violent as to put a close to his professorate at Jena. The first of them, a complaint against the delivery of his general addresses on Sundays, was easily settled. The second, arising from Fichte’s strong desire to suppress the Landsmannschaften (students’ orders), which were productive of much harm, was more serious. Some misunderstanding caused an outburst of ignorant ill-feeling on the part of the students, who proceeded to such lengths that Fichte was compelled to reside out of Jena. The third storm, however, was the most violent. In 1798 Fichte, who, with F.I. Niethammer (1766-1848), had edited the Philosophical Journal since 1795, received from his friend F.K. Forberg (1770-1848) an essay on the “Development of the Idea of Religion.” With much of the essay he entirely agreed, but he thought the exposition in so many ways defective and calculated to create an erroneous impression, that he prefaced it with a short paper On the Grounds of our Belief in a Divine Government of the Universe, in which God is defined as the moral order of the universe, the eternal law of right which is the foundation of all our being. The cry of atheism was raised, and the electoral government of Saxony, followed by all the German states except Prussia, suppressed the Journal and confiscated the copies found in their universities. Pressure was put by the German powers on Charles Augustus, grand-duke of Saxe-Weimar, in whose dominions Jena university was situated, to reprove and dismiss the offenders. Fichte’s defences (Appellation an das Publicum gegen die Anklage des Atheismus, and Gerichtliche Verantwortung der Herausgeber der phil. Zeitschrift, 1799), though masterly, did not make it easier for the liberal-minded grand-duke to pass the matter over, and an unfortunate letter, in which he threatened to resign in case of reprimand, turned the scale against him. The grand-duke accepted his threat as a request to resign, passed censure, and extended to him permission to withdraw from his chair at Jena; nor would he alter his decision, even though Fichte himself endeavoured to explain away the unfortunate letter.

During this time, Fichte's academic career faced several challenges, the last one being so intense that it ended his position as a professor at Jena. The first issue was a complaint about his Sunday lectures, which was resolved easily. The second issue stemmed from Fichte's strong wish to abolish the Landsmannschaften (student organizations), which caused a lot of trouble. Some misunderstandings led to a surge of hostile feelings from the students, forcing Fichte to live outside of Jena. However, the third challenge was the most severe. In 1798, Fichte, who had been co-editing the Philosophical Journal with F.I. Niethammer since 1795, received an essay from his friend F.K. Forberg about the “Development of the Idea of Religion.” He agreed with much of the essay but found it flawed in many ways and potentially misleading, so he prefaced it with a short paper titled On the Grounds of our Belief in a Divine Government of the Universe, defining God as the moral order of the universe, the eternal law of right that is the basis of all our existence. This led to accusations of atheism, and the electoral government of Saxony, along with all German states except Prussia, suppressed the Journal and confiscated copies found in their universities. The German authorities pressured Charles Augustus, the grand-duke of Saxe-Weimar, where Jena University was located, to reprimand and dismiss the offenders. Fichte's defenses (Appellation an das Publicum gegen die Anklage des Atheismus and Gerichtliche Verantwortung der Herausgeber der phil. Zeitschrift, 1799), while impressive, did not make it easier for the liberal-minded grand-duke to dismiss the issue. An unfortunate letter from Fichte threatening to resign if reprimanded tipped the scales against him. The grand-duke interpreted that as a resignation request, issued censure, and allowed him to step down from his position at Jena; he refused to change his decision even when Fichte attempted to clarify the unfortunate letter.

Berlin was the only town in Germany open to him. His residence there from 1799 to 1806 was unbroken save for a course of lectures during the summer of 1805 at Erlangen, where he had been named professor. Surrounded by friends, including Schlegel and Schleiermacher, he continued his literary work, perfecting the Wissenschaftslehre. The most remarkable of the works from this period are—(1) the Bestimmung des Menschen (Vocation of Man, 1800), a book which, for beauty of style, richness of content, and elevation of thought, may be ranked with the Meditations of Descartes; (2) Der geschlossene Handelsstaat, 1800 (The Exclusive or Isolated Commercial State), a very remarkable treatise, intensely socialist in tone, and inculcating organized protection; (3) Sonnenklarer Bericht an das grössere Publicum über die neueste Philosophie, 1801. In 1801 was also written the Darstellung der Wissenschaftslehre, which was not published till after his death. In 1804 a set of lectures on the Wissenschaftslehre was given at Berlin, the notes of which were published in the Nachgelassene Werke, vol. ii. In 1804 were also delivered the noble lectures entitled Grundzüge des gegenwärtigen Zeitalters (Characteristics of the Present Age, 1804), containing a most admirable analysis of the Aufklärung, tracing the position of such a movement of thought in the natural evolution of the general human consciousness, pointing out its inherent defects, and indicating as the ultimate goal of progress the life of reason in its highest aspect as a belief in the divine order of the universe. The philosophy of history sketched in this work has something of value with much that is fantastic. In 1805 and 1806 appeared the Wesen des Gelehrten (Nature of the Scholar) and the Anweisung zum seligen Leben oder Religionslehre (Way to a Blessed Life), the latter the most important work of this Berlin period. In it the union between the finite self-consciousness and the infinite ego or God is handled in an almost mystical manner. The knowledge and love of God is the end of life; by this means only can we attain blessedness (Seligkeit), for in God alone have we a permanent, enduring object of desire. The infinite God is the all; the world of independent objects is the result of reflection or self-consciousness, by which the infinite unity is broken up. God is thus over and above the distinction of subject and object; our knowledge is but a reflex or picture of the infinite essence. Being is not thought.

Berlin was the only city in Germany that welcomed him. He lived there from 1799 to 1806, with the exception of giving lectures during the summer of 1805 at Erlangen, where he was appointed professor. Surrounded by friends like Schlegel and Schleiermacher, he continued to work on his writings, refining the Wissenschaftslehre. The most notable works from this time are—(1) the Bestimmung des Menschen (Vocation of Man, 1800), a book acclaimed for its beautiful writing, rich content, and profound ideas, comparable to Descartes' Meditations; (2) Der geschlossene Handelsstaat, 1800 (The Exclusive or Isolated Commercial State), an important treatise that carries a strong socialist tone and advocates for organized protection; (3) Sonnenklarer Bericht an das grössere Publicum über die neueste Philosophie, 1801. In 1801, he also wrote the Darstellung der Wissenschaftslehre, which wasn’t published until after his death. In 1804, he delivered a set of lectures on the Wissenschaftslehre in Berlin, the notes from which were later published in the Nachgelassene Werke, vol. ii. That same year, he also gave the remarkable lectures titled Grundzüge des gegenwärtigen Zeitalters (Characteristics of the Present Age, 1804), offering a brilliant analysis of the Aufklärung, exploring the role of this intellectual movement in the natural development of human consciousness, pointing out its inherent flaws, and suggesting that the ultimate aim of progress is a life of reason reflected in a belief in the divine order of the universe. The philosophy of history laid out in this work has valuable insights mixed with many fanciful ideas. In 1805 and 1806, the Wesen des Gelehrten (Nature of the Scholar) and Anweisung zum seligen Leben oder Religionslehre (Way to a Blessed Life) were published, the latter being the most significant work of this Berlin period. It addresses the connection between finite self-consciousness and the infinite self or God in a nearly mystical way. The knowledge and love of God is the purpose of life; through this, we can achieve blessedness (Seligkeit), because in God alone do we find a lasting, fulfilling object of desire. The infinite God is everything; the world of independent objects arises from reflection or self-consciousness, which disrupts the infinite unity. Thus, God exists beyond the distinction between subject and object; our knowledge is merely a reflection or image of the infinite essence. Being is not thought.

The disasters of Prussia in 1806 drove Fichte from Berlin. He retired first to Stargard, then to Königsberg (where he lectured for a time), then to Copenhagen, whence he returned to the capital in August 1807. From this time his published writings are practical in character; not till after the appearance of the Nachgelassene Werke was it known in what shape his final speculations had been thrown out. We may here note the order of these posthumous writings as being of importance for tracing the development of Fichte’s thought. From the year 1806 we have the remarkable Bericht über die Wissenschaftslehre (Werke, vol. viii.), with its sharp critique of Schelling; from 1810 we have the Thatsachen des Bewusstseyns, published in 1817, of which another treatment is given in lectures of 1813 (Nachgel. Werke, vol. i.). Of the Wissenschaftslehre we have, in 1812-1813, four separate treatments contained in the Nachgel Werke. As these consist mainly of notes for lectures, couched in uncouth phraseology, they cannot be held to throw much light on Fichte’s views. Perhaps the most interesting are the lectures of 1812 on Transcendental Logic (Nach. Werke, i. 106-400).

The catastrophes in Prussia in 1806 forced Fichte to leave Berlin. He first went to Stargard, then to Königsberg (where he taught for a while), then to Copenhagen, from where he returned to the capital in August 1807. From this point on, his published writings focused on practical topics; it wasn't until after the release of the Nachgelassene Werke that it became clear how his final theories were formed. It's important to note the sequence of these posthumous writings to understand the evolution of Fichte’s ideas. Starting from 1806, we have the notable Bericht über die Wissenschaftslehre (Werke, vol. viii.), which includes a sharp critique of Schelling; from 1810, we have the Thatsachen des Bewusstseyns, published in 1817, with another version discussed in lectures from 1813 (Nachgel. Werke, vol. i.). Regarding the Wissenschaftslehre, we have four separate treatments from 1812-1813 included in the Nachgel Werke. Since these are mostly lecture notes written in awkward language, they don’t provide much clarity on Fichte’s views. The most interesting might be the lectures from 1812 on Transcendental Logic (Nach. Werke, i. 106-400).

From 1812 we have notes of two courses on practical philosophy, Rechtslehre (Nach. Werke, vol. ii.) and Sittenlehre (ib. vol. iii.). A finished work in the same department is the Staatslehre, published in 1820. This gives the Fichtean utopia organized on principles of pure reason; in too many cases the proposals are identical with principles of pure despotism.

From 1812, we have records of two courses on practical philosophy, Rechtslehre (Nach. Werke, vol. ii.) and Sittenlehre (ib. vol. iii.). A complete work in the same field is the Staatslehre, published in 1820. This presents the Fichtean utopia structured on principles of pure reason; however, in many instances, the proposals closely resemble principles of pure despotism.

During these years, however, Fichte was mainly occupied with public affairs. In 1807 he drew up an elaborate and minute plan for the proposed new university of Berlin. In 1507-1808 he delivered at Berlin, amidst danger and discouragement, his noble addresses to the German people (Reden an die deutsche Nation). Even if we think that in these pure reason is sometimes overshadowed by patriotism, we cannot but recognize the immense practical value of what he recommended as the only true foundation for national prosperity.

During these years, however, Fichte was mostly focused on public affairs. In 1807, he created a detailed plan for the proposed new university of Berlin. In 1807-1808, he gave his powerful speeches to the German people in Berlin, despite facing danger and discouragement (Reden an die deutsche Nation). Even if we believe that his emphasis on pure reason is occasionally overshadowed by patriotism, we can't overlook the significant practical value of what he advocated as the true foundation for national prosperity.

In 1810 he was elected rector of the new university founded in the previous year. This post he resigned in 1812, mainly on account of the difficulties he experienced in his endeavour to reform the student life of the university.

In 1810, he was elected rector of the new university that had been established the year before. He resigned from this position in 1812, largely due to the challenges he faced in trying to improve student life at the university.

In 1813 began the great effort of Germany for national independence. Debarred from taking an active part, Fichte made his contribution by way of lectures. The addresses on the idea of a true war (Über den Begriff eines wahrhaften Kriegs, forming part of the Staatslehre) contain a very subtle contrast between the positions of France and Germany in the war.

In 1813, Germany started its major push for national independence. Unable to participate directly, Fichte contributed through his lectures. His talks on the concept of a true war (Über den Begriff eines wahrhaften Kriegs, part of the Staatslehre) provide a nuanced comparison between France and Germany's positions during the war.

In the autumn of 1813 the hospitals of Berlin were filled with sick and wounded from the campaign. Among the most devoted in her exertions was Fichte’s wife, who, in January 1814, was attacked with a virulent hospital fever. On the day after she was pronounced out of danger Fichte was struck down. He lingered for some days in an almost unconscious state, and died on the 27th of January 1814.

In the fall of 1813, the hospitals in Berlin were packed with sick and injured soldiers from the campaign. Among the most dedicated in her efforts was Fichte’s wife, who, in January 1814, contracted a severe hospital fever. The day after she was declared out of danger, Fichte was struck down. He lingered for several days in a nearly unconscious state and died on January 27, 1814.

The philosophy of Fichte, worked out in a series of writings, and falling chronologically into two distinct periods, that of Jena and that of Berlin, seemed in the course of its development to undergo a change so fundamental that many critics have sharply separated and opposed to one another an earlier and a later phase. The ground of the modification, further, has been sought and apparently found in quite external influences, principally that of 316 Schelling’s Naturphilosophie, to some extent that of Schleiermacher. But as a rule most of those who have adopted this view have done so without the full and patient examination which the matter demands; they have been misled by the difference in tone and style between the earlier and later writings, and have concluded that underlying this was a fundamental difference of philosophic conception. One only, Erdmann, in his Entwicklung d. deut. Spek. seit Kant, § 29, seems to give full references to justify his opinion, and even he, in his later work, Grundriss der Gesch. der Philos. (ed. 3), § 311, admits that the difference is much less than he had at the first imagined. He certainly retains his former opinion, but mainly on the ground, in itself intelligible and legitimate, that, so far as Fichte’s philosophical reputation and influence are concerned, attention may be limited to the earlier doctrines of the Wissenschaftslehre. This may be so, but it can be admitted neither that Fichte’s views underwent radical change, nor that the Wissenschaftslehre was ever regarded as in itself complete, nor that Fichte was unconscious of the apparent difference between his earlier and later utterances. It is demonstrable by various passages in the works and letters that he never looked upon the Wissenschaftslehre as containing the whole system; it is clear from the chronology of his writings that the modifications supposed to be due to other thinkers were from the first implicit in his theory; and if one fairly traces the course of thought in the early writings, one can see how he was inevitably led on to the statement of the later and, at first sight, divergent views. On only one point, the position assigned in the Wissenschaftslehre to the absolute ego, is there any obscurity; but the relative passages are far from decisive, and from the early work, Neue Darstellung der Wissenchaftslehre, unquestionably to be included in the Jena period, one can see that from the outset the doctrine of the absolute ego was held in a form differing only in statement from the later theory.

The philosophy of Fichte, developed through a series of writings that can be divided into two distinct periods—Jena and Berlin—seems to have gone through such a fundamental change during its evolution that many critics sharply distinguish between an earlier phase and a later phase. The reason for this change has been sought, and seemingly found, in external influences, mainly Schelling’s Naturphilosophie, and to some extent Schleiermacher's ideas. However, most who subscribe to this view have done so without the thorough and careful examination the topic requires; they have been misled by the differences in tone and style between the earlier and later writings, concluding that this indicates a fundamental difference in philosophical conception. Only Erdmann, in his Entwicklung d. deut. Spek. seit Kant, § 29, seems to provide sufficient references to support his opinion, and even he, in his later work, Grundriss der Gesch. der Philos. (ed. 3), § 311, acknowledges that the differences are much less significant than he initially believed. He certainly maintains his previous opinion, but mainly based on the understandable and legitimate reason that, concerning Fichte’s philosophical reputation and influence, attention may be focused on the earlier doctrines of the Wissenschaftslehre. This may be true, but it cannot be accepted that Fichte's views underwent a radical change, nor that the Wissenschaftslehre was ever considered complete in itself, nor that Fichte was unaware of the apparent differences between his earlier and later statements. It can be shown through various passages in his works and letters that he never viewed the Wissenschaftslehre as the entirety of his system; the chronology of his writings makes it clear that the modifications attributed to other thinkers were implicitly present in his theory from the start. If one carefully traces the development of thought in the early writings, it becomes evident how he was naturally led to the articulation of the later, seemingly divergent views. The only point of confusion is the role attributed to the absolute ego in the Wissenschaftslehre; however, the relevant sections are far from conclusive, and from the early work, Neue Darstellung der Wissenschaftslehre, which is undoubtedly part of the Jena period, it is clear that from the beginning, the doctrine of the absolute ego was understood in a form that only differed in expression from the later theory.

Fichte’s system cannot be compressed with intelligibility. We shall here note only three points:—(a) the origin in Kant; (b) the fundamental principle and method of the Wissenschaftslehre; (c) the connexion with the later writings. The most important works for (a) are the “Review of Aenesidemus,” and the Second Introduction to the Wissenschaftslehre; for (b) the great treatises of the Jena period; for (c) the Thatsachen des Bewusstseyns of 1810.

Fichte’s system can't be easily summarized in a clear way. We'll point out just three aspects: (a) its roots in Kant; (b) the core principle and approach of the Wissenschaftslehre; (c) its connection to his later writings. The key works for (a) are the “Review of Aenesidemus” and the Second Introduction to the Wissenschaftslehre; for (b) the significant writings from the Jena period; for (c) the Thatsachen des Bewusstseyns from 1810.

(a) The Kantian system had for the first time opened up a truly fruitful line of philosophic speculation, the transcendental consideration of knowledge, or the analysis of the conditions under which cognition is possible. To Kant the fundamental condition was given in the synthetical unity of consciousness. The primitive fact under which might be gathered the special conditions of that synthesis which we call cognition was this unity. But by Kant there was no attempt made to show that the said special conditions were necessary from the very nature of consciousness itself. Their necessity was discovered and proved in a manner which might be called empirical. Moreover, while Kant in a quite similar manner pointed out that intuition had special conditions, space and time, he did not show any link of connexion between these and the primitive conditions of pure cognition. Closely connected with this remarkable defect in the Kantian view—lying, indeed, at the foundation of it—was the doctrine that the matter of cognition is altogether given, or thrown into the form of cognition from without. So strongly was this doctrine emphasized by Kant, that he seemed to refer the matter of knowledge to the action upon us of a non-ego or Ding-an-sich, absolutely beyond consciousness. While these hints towards a completely intelligible account of cognition were given by Kant, they were not reduced to system, and from the way in which the elements of cognition were related, could not be so reduced. Only in the sphere of practical reason, where the intelligible nature prescribed to itself its own laws, was there the possibility of systematic deduction from a single principle.

(a) The Kantian system opened up a truly productive avenue for philosophical exploration for the first time, focusing on the transcendental examination of knowledge, or the analysis of the conditions under which understanding is possible. To Kant, the key condition was found in the synthetic unity of consciousness. The basic fact that could gather the specific conditions of that synthesis, which we call cognition, was this unity. However, Kant did not attempt to demonstrate that these specific conditions were necessary based on the very nature of consciousness itself. Their necessity was discovered and demonstrated in a way that could be described as empirical. Furthermore, while Kant similarly noted that intuition had specific conditions, namely space and time, he did not establish any connection between these and the fundamental conditions of pure cognition. Closely tied to this notable flaw in Kant's perspective—indeed, at the core of it—was the belief that the content of cognition is entirely given, or imposed into the form of cognition from outside. Kant emphasized this idea so strongly that he seemed to suggest that the matter of knowledge comes from the influence of a non-ego or Ding-an-sich, completely beyond consciousness. While Kant provided hints toward a fully understandable explanation of cognition, these hints were not organized into a system, and given how the elements of cognition were related, they could not be organized into one. Only in the realm of practical reason, where intelligible nature sets its own laws, was there the potential for systematic deduction from a single principle.

The peculiar position in which Kant had left the theory of cognition was assailed from many different sides and by many writers, specially by Schultze (Aenesidemus) and Maimon. To the criticisms of the latter, in particular, Fichte owed much, but his own activity went far beyond what they supplied to him. To complete Kant’s work, to demonstrate that all the necessary conditions of knowledge can be deduced from a single principle, and consequently to expound the complete system of reason, that is the business of the Wissenschaftslehre. By it the theoretical and practical reason shall be shown to coincide; for while the categories of cognition and the whole system of pure thought can be expounded from one principle, the ground of this principle is scientifically, or to cognition, inexplicable, and is made conceivable only in the practical philosophy. The ultimate basis for the activity of cognition is given by the will. Even in the practical sphere, however, Fichte found that the contradiction, insoluble to cognition, was not completely suppressed, and he was thus driven to the higher view, which is explicitly stated in the later writings though not, it must be confessed, with the precision and scientific clearness of the Wissenschaftslehre.

The unique stance in which Kant left the theory of knowledge came under attack from various angles and by many authors, especially Schultze (Aenesidemus) and Maimon. Fichte drew significantly from Maimon’s critiques, yet his own work extended far beyond what they offered. The goal of the Wissenschaftslehre is to complete Kant’s project, demonstrating that all the essential conditions for knowledge can be derived from a single principle, thereby explaining the entire system of reason. It aims to show how theoretical and practical reason align; while the categories of knowledge and the overall framework of pure thought can be explained from a single principle, the foundation of that principle is scientifically or cognitively inexplicable and can only be understood in the context of practical philosophy. The ultimate source of cognitive activity is the will. However, even in the practical realm, Fichte noticed that the contradiction, which cannot be resolved through cognition, was not entirely eliminated, leading him to a broader perspective that is explicitly outlined in his later works, though not always with the same clarity and precision as in the Wissenschaftslehre.

(b) What, then, is this single principle, and how does it work itself out into system? To answer this one must bear in mind what Fichte intended by designating all philosophy Wissenschaftslehre, or theory of science. Philosophy is to him the rethinking of actual cognition, the theory of knowledge, the complete, systematic exposition of the principles which lie at the basis of all reasoned cognition. It traces the necessary acts by which the cognitive consciousness comes to be what it is, both in form and in content. Not that it is a natural history, or even a phenomenology of consciousness; only in the later writings did Fichte adopt even the genetic method of exposition; it is the complete statement of the pure principles of the understanding in their rational or necessary order. But if complete, this Wissenschaftslehre must be able to deduce the whole organism of cognition from certain fundamental axioms, themselves unproved and incapable of proof; only thus can we have a system of reason. From these primary axioms the whole body of necessary thoughts must be developed, and, as Socrates would say, the argument itself will indicate the path of the development.

(b) So, what exactly is this single principle, and how does it become a system? To answer this, we need to remember what Fichte meant by calling all philosophy Wissenschaftslehre, or the theory of science. For him, philosophy is about rethinking actual knowledge, the theory of understanding, and a complete, systematic explanation of the principles behind all rational thinking. It outlines the necessary actions that lead cognitive awareness to become what it is, in both form and content. It’s not a natural history, nor even a phenomenology of consciousness; Fichte only adopted the genetic method of exposition in his later writings. Instead, it’s a thorough explanation of the pure principles of understanding in their logical or necessary order. However, for this Wissenschaftslehre to be complete, it must be able to derive the entire framework of knowledge from certain basic axioms that themselves are unproved and cannot be proven; only then can we have a system of reason. From these foundational axioms, the entire structure of necessary thoughts must be developed, and as Socrates would say, the argument itself will show the way of development.

Of such primitive principles, the absolutely necessary conditions of possible cognition, only three are thinkable—one perfectly unconditioned both in form and matter; a second, unconditioned in form but not in matter; a third, unconditioned in matter but not in form. Of these, evidently the first must be the fundamental; to some extent it conditions the other two, though these cannot be deduced from it or proved by it. The statement of these principles forms the introduction to Wissenschaftslehre.

Of such basic principles, there are only three that are necessary for possible understanding—one that is completely unconditioned in both form and matter; a second that is unconditioned in form but not in matter; and a third that is unconditioned in matter but not in form. Clearly, the first one has to be the fundamental principle; it partly influences the other two, even though they cannot be derived from or proven by it. The explanation of these principles serves as the introduction to Wissenschaftslehre.

The method which Fichte first adopted for stating these axioms is not calculated to throw full light upon them, and tends to exaggerate the apparent airiness and unsubstantiality of his deduction. They may be explained thus. The primitive condition of all intelligence is that the ego shall posit, affirm or be aware of itself. The ego is the ego; such is the first pure act of conscious intelligence, that by which alone consciousness can come to be what it is. It is what Fichte called a Deed-act (Thathandlung); we cannot be aware of the process,—the ego is not until it has affirmed itself,—but we are aware of the result, and can see the necessity of the act by which it is brought about. The ego then posits itself, as real. What the ego posits is real. But in consciousness there is equally given a primitive act of op-positing, or contra-positing, formally distinct from the act of position, but materially determined, in so far as what is op-posited must be the negative of that which was posited. The non-ego—not, be it noticed, the world as we know it—is op-posed in consciousness to the ego. The ego is not the non-ego. How this act of op-positing is possible and necessary, only becomes clear in the practical philosophy, and even there the inherent difficulty leads to a higher view. But third, we have now an absolute antithesis to our original thesis. Only the ego is real, but the non-ego is posited in the ego. The contradiction is solved in a higher synthesis, which takes up into itself the two opposites. The ego and non-ego limit one another, or determine one another; and, as limitation is negation of part of a divisible quantum, in this third act, the divisible ego is op-posed to a divisible non-ego.

The way Fichte initially presented these axioms doesn’t really illuminate them fully and tends to exaggerate the seeming lightness and lack of substance in his reasoning. They can be explained like this: the basic condition of all understanding is that the ego must assert, affirm, or recognize itself. The ego is the ego; this is the first true act of conscious awareness, the only way consciousness can exist as it does. It’s what Fichte referred to as a Deed-act (Thathandlung); we can’t be aware of the process—the ego is not until it affirms itself—but we are aware of the outcome and can see the necessity of the act that brings it about. The ego then posits itself as real. What the ego posits is real. However, within consciousness, there is also an initial act of op-positing, or contrasting, which is formally different from the act of positioning but materially determined, since what’s op-posed must be the opposite of what was posited. The non-ego—not to be confused with the world as we perceive it—is opposed in consciousness to the ego. The ego is not the non-ego. How this act of op-positing is possible and necessary only becomes clear in practical philosophy, and even there, the inherent difficulty leads to a deeper understanding. But now we have a clear contradiction to our initial thesis. Only the ego is real, but the non-ego is posited within the ego. This contradiction is resolved in a higher synthesis that integrates the two opposites. The ego and non-ego limit and determine each other; and since limitation is the negation of part of a divisible whole, in this third act, the divisible ego is opposed to a divisible non-ego.

From this point onwards the course proceeds by the method already made clear. We progress by making explicit the oppositions contained in the fundamental synthesis, by uniting these opposites, analysing the new synthesis, and so on, until we reach an ultimate pair. Now, in the synthesis of the third act two principles may be distinguished:—(1) the non-ego determines the ego; (2) the ego determines the non-ego. As determined the ego is theoretical, as determining it is practical; ultimately the opposed principles must be united by showing how the ego is both determining and determined.

From this point on, the course continues using the method we've already explained. We move forward by clarifying the oppositions found in the fundamental synthesis, bringing these opposites together, analyzing the new synthesis, and so on, until we arrive at a final pair. In the synthesis of the third act, we can identify two principles: (1) the non-ego determines the ego; (2) the ego determines the non-ego. When the ego is determined, it is theoretical; when it is determining, it is practical. Ultimately, these opposing principles need to be united by demonstrating how the ego is both determining and determined.

It is impossible to enter here on the steps by which the theoretical ego is shown to develop into the complete system of cognitive categories, or to trace the deduction of the processes (productive imagination, intuition, sensation, understanding, judgment, reason) by which the quite indefinite non-ego comes to assume the appearance of definite objects in the forms of time and space. All this evolution is the necessary consequence of the determination of the ego by the non-ego. But it is clear that the non-ego cannot really determine the ego. There is no reality beyond the ego itself. The contradiction can only be suppressed if the ego itself opposes to itself the non-ego, places it as an Anstoss or plane on which its own activity breaks and from which it is reflected. Now, this op-positing of the Anstoss is the necessary condition of the practical ego, of the will. If the ego be a striving power, then of necessity a limit must be set by which its striving is manifest. But how can the infinitely active ego posit a limit to its own activity? Here we come to the crux of Fichte’s system, which is only partly cleared up in the Rechtslehre and Sittenlehre. If the ego be pure activity, free activity, it can only become aware of itself by positing some limit. We cannot possibly have any cognition of how such an act is possible. But as it is a free act, the ego cannot be determined to it by anything beyond itself; it cannot be aware of its own freedom otherwise than as determined by other free egos. Thus in the Rechtslehre and Sittenlehre, the multiplicity of egos is deduced, and with this deduction the first form of the Wissenschaftslehre appeared to end.

It’s impossible to explain here how the theoretical self develops into a complete system of cognitive categories or to outline the processes (like creative imagination, intuition, sensation, understanding, judgment, reason) through which the vague non-self takes on the appearance of clear objects in the contexts of time and space. This entire development is a necessary result of the self being shaped by the non-self. However, it’s clear that the non-self cannot truly determine the self. There is no reality outside of the self itself. The contradiction can only be resolved if the self counters the non-self, positioning it as an Anstoss or a surface where its own actions intersect and from which they are reflected. This opposition to the Anstoss is essential for the practical self, for will. If the self is a striving force, then there must necessarily be a limit that makes that striving apparent. But how can the infinitely active self impose a limit on its own activity? Here we reach the crux of Fichte’s system, which is only partially addressed in the Rechtslehre and Sittenlehre. If the self is pure activity, free activity, it can only become aware of itself by establishing some limit. We can’t possibly understand how such an act is feasible. But since it is a free act, nothing outside of itself can determine the self; it can only recognize its own freedom through the influence of other free selves. Thus, in the Rechtslehre and Sittenlehre, the existence of multiple selves is explained, and with this explanation, the initial form of the Wissenschaftslehre seems to conclude.

(c) But in fact deeper questions remained. We have spoken of the ego as becoming aware of its own freedom, and have shown how the existence of other egos and of a world in which these egos may act are the necessary conditions of consciousness of freedom. But all this is the work of the ego. All that has been expounded follows if the ego comes to consciousness. We have therefore to consider that the absolute ego, from which spring all the individual egos, is not subject to these conditions, but freely determines itself to them. 317 How is this absolute ego to be conceived? As early as 1797 Fichte had begun to see that the ultimate basis of his system was the absolute ego, in which is no difference of subject and object; in 1800 the Bestimmung des Menschen defined this absolute ego as the infinite moral will of the universe, God, in whom are all the individual egos, from whom they have sprung. It lay in the nature of the thing that more precise utterances should be given on this subject, and these we find in the Thatsachen des Bewusstseyns and in all the later lectures. God in them is the absolute Life, the absolute One, who becomes conscious of himself by self-diremption into the individual egos. The individual ego is only possible as opposed to a non-ego, to a world of the senses; thus God, the infinite will, manifests himself in the individual, and the individual has over against him the non-ego or thing. “The individuals do not make part of the being of the one life, but are a pure form of its absolute freedom.” “The individual is not conscious of himself, but the Life is conscious of itself in individual form and as an individual.” In order that the Life may act, though it is not necessary that it should act, individualization is necessary. “Thus,” says Fichte, “we reach a final conclusion. Knowledge is not mere knowledge of itself, but of being, and of the one being that truly is, viz. God.... This one possible object of knowledge is never known in its purity, but ever broken into the various forms of knowledge which are and can be shown to be necessary. The demonstration of the necessity of these forms is philosophy or Wissenschaftslehre” (Thats. des Bewuss. Werke, ii. 685). This ultimate view is expressed throughout the lectures (in the Nachgel. Werke) in uncouth and mystical language.

(c) But in reality, deeper questions remained. We have talked about the ego becoming aware of its own freedom and have shown how the existence of other egos and a world where these egos can act are essential for the consciousness of freedom. But all of this is the work of the ego. Everything discussed follows if the ego becomes conscious. Therefore, we need to consider that the absolute ego, from which all individual egos arise, is not bound by these conditions but freely determines itself in relation to them. 317 How should we understand this absolute ego? As early as 1797, Fichte began to realize that the ultimate foundation of his system was the absolute ego, in which there is no distinction between subject and object; in 1800, the Bestimmung des Menschen defined this absolute ego as the infinite moral will of the universe, God, in whom all individual egos exist and from whom they originate. It was natural that more precise statements should follow on this matter, and we find those in the Thatsachen des Bewusstseyns and in all the later lectures. In these works, God is the absolute Life, the absolute One, who becomes conscious of himself by self-diremption into the individual egos. The individual ego only exists in opposition to a non-ego, to a world of the senses; thus, God, the infinite will, manifests himself in the individual, while the individual stands against the non-ego or things. “The individuals do not constitute part of the being of the one life, but are a pure expression of its absolute freedom.” “The individual is not conscious of itself, but Life is conscious of itself in individual form and as an individual.” For Life to act, even though it isn't necessary that it should act, individualization is required. “Thus,” says Fichte, “we reach a final conclusion. Knowledge is not merely knowledge of itself, but of being, and of the one being that truly exists, namely God.... This one possible object of knowledge is never known in its purity but is always fragmented into the various forms of knowledge that are necessary. The demonstration of the necessity of these forms is philosophy or Wissenschaftslehre” (Thats. des Bewuss. Werke, ii. 685). This ultimate perspective is articulated throughout the lectures (in the Nachgel. Werke) in awkward and mystical language.

It will escape no one (1) how the idea and method of the Wissenschaftslehre prepare the way for the later Hegelian dialectic, and (2) how completely the whole philosophy of Schopenhauer is contained in the later writings of Fichte. It is not to the credit of historians that Schopenhauer’s debt should have been allowed to pass with so little notice.

It won’t escape anyone (1) how the concept and approach of the Wissenschaftslehre set the stage for the later Hegelian dialectic, and (2) how entirely Schopenhauer's philosophy is encompassed in Fichte's later writings. It's not a good look for historians that they’ve overlooked Schopenhauer's debt to Fichte with so little attention.

Bibliography.—Fichte’s complete works were published by his son J.H. Fichte, Sämmtliche Werke (8 vols., Berlin, 1845-1846), with Nachgelassene Werke (3 vols., Bonn, 1834-1835); also Leben und Briefwechsel (2 vols., 1830, ed. 1862). Among translations are those of William Smith, Popular Writings of Fichte, with Memoir (2 vols., London, 1848-1849, 4th ed. 1889); A.E. Kroeger, portions of the Wissenschaftslehre (Science of Knowledge, Philadelphia, 1868; ed. London, 1889), the Naturrecht (Science of Rights, 1870; ed. London, 1889); of the Vorlesungen ü. d. Bestimmung d. Gelehrten (The Vocation of the Scholar, by W. Smith, 1847); Destination of Man, by Mrs P. Sinnett; Discours à la nation allemande, French by Léon Philippe (1895), with preface by F. Picavet, and a biographical memoir.

References.—Fichte’s complete works were published by his son J.H. Fichte, Sämmtliche Werke (8 vols., Berlin, 1845-1846), along with Nachgelassene Werke (3 vols., Bonn, 1834-1835); also Leben und Briefwechsel (2 vols., 1830, ed. 1862). Among the translations are those by William Smith, Popular Writings of Fichte, with Memoir (2 vols., London, 1848-1849, 4th ed. 1889); A.E. Kroeger, parts of the Wissenschaftslehre (Science of Knowledge, Philadelphia, 1868; ed. London, 1889), the Naturrecht (Science of Rights, 1870; ed. London, 1889); of the Vorlesungen ü. d. Bestimmung d. Gelehrten (The Vocation of the Scholar, by W. Smith, 1847); Destination of Man, by Mrs P. Sinnett; Discours à la nation allemande, translated into French by Léon Philippe (1895), with a preface by F. Picavet, and a biographical memoir.

The number of critical works is very large. Besides the histories of post-Kantian philosophy by Erdmann, Fortlage (whose account is remarkably good), Michelet, Biedermann and others, see Wm. Busse, Fichte und seine Beziehung zur Gegenwart des deutschen Volkes (Halle, 1848-1849); J.H. Löwe, Die Philosophic Fichtes (Stuttgart, 1862); Kuno Fischer, Geschichte d. neueren Philosophie (1869, 1884, 1890); Ludwig Noack, Fichte nach seinem Leben, Lehren und Wirken (Leipzig, 1862); R. Adamson, Fichte (1881, in Knight’s “Philosophical Classics”); Oscar Benzow, Zu Fichtes Lekre von Nicht-Ich (Bern, 1898); E.O. Burmann, Die Transcendentalphilosophie Fichtes und Schellings (Upsala, 1890-1892); M. Carrière, Fichtes Geistesentwickelung in die Reden über d. Bestimmung des Gelehrten (1894); C.C. Everett, Fichte’s Science of Knowledge (Chicago, 1884); O. Pfleiderer, J.G. Fichtes Lebensbild eines deutschen Denkers und Patrioten (Stuttgart, 1877); T. Wotschke, Fichte und Erigena (1896); W. Kabitz, Studien zur Entwickelungsgeschichte der Fichtehen Wissenschaftslehre aus der Kantischen Philosophie (1902); E. Lask, Fichtes Idealismus und die Geschichte (1902); X. Léon, La Philos. de Fichte (1902); M. Wiener, J.G. Fichtes Lehre vom Wesen und Inhalt der Geschichte (1906).

The number of critical works is very large. Besides the histories of post-Kantian philosophy by Erdmann, Fortlage (whose account is impressively good), Michelet, Biedermann, and others, see Wm. Busse, Fichte und seine Beziehung zur Gegenwart des deutschen Volkes (Halle, 1848-1849); J.H. Löwe, Die Philosophic Fichtes (Stuttgart, 1862); Kuno Fischer, Geschichte d. neueren Philosophie (1869, 1884, 1890); Ludwig Noack, Fichte nach seinem Leben, Lehren und Wirken (Leipzig, 1862); R. Adamson, Fichte (1881, in Knight’s “Philosophical Classics”); Oscar Benzow, Zu Fichtes Lekre von Nicht-Ich (Bern, 1898); E.O. Burmann, Die Transcendentalphilosophie Fichtes und Schellings (Upsala, 1890-1892); M. Carrière, Fichtes Geistesentwickelung in die Reden über d. Bestimmung des Gelehrten (1894); C.C. Everett, Fichte’s Science of Knowledge (Chicago, 1884); O. Pfleiderer, J.G. Fichtes Lebensbild eines deutschen Denkers und Patrioten (Stuttgart, 1877); T. Wotschke, Fichte und Erigena (1896); W. Kabitz, Studien zur Entwickelungsgeschichte der Fichtehen Wissenschaftslehre aus der Kantischen Philosophie (1902); E. Lask, Fichtes Idealismus und die Geschichte (1902); X. Léon, La Philos. de Fichte (1902); M. Wiener, J.G. Fichtes Lehre vom Wesen und Inhalt der Geschichte (1906).

On Fichte’s social philosophy see, e.g., F. Schmidt-Warneck, Die Sociologie Fichtes (Berlin, 1884); W. Windelband, Fichtes Idee des deutschen Staates (1890); M. Weber, Fichtes Sozialismus und sein Verhältnis zur Marx’schen Doctrin (1900); S.H. Gutman, J.G. Fichtes Sozialpädogogik (1907); H. Lindau, Johann G. Fichte und der neuere Socialismus (1900).

On Fichte’s social philosophy, see, e.g. F. Schmidt-Warneck, Die Sociologie Fichtes (Berlin, 1884); W. Windelband, Fichtes Idee des deutschen Staates (1890); M. Weber, Fichtes Sozialismus und sein Verhältnis zur Marx’schen Doctrin (1900); S.H. Gutman, J.G. Fichtes Sozialpädogogik (1907); H. Lindau, Johann G. Fichte und der neuere Socialismus (1900).

(R. Ad.; X.)

FICHTELGEBIRGE, a mountain group of Bavaria, forming the centre from which various mountain ranges proceed,—the Elstergebirge, linking it to the Erzgebirge, in a N.E., the Frankenwald in a N.W., and the Böhmerwald in a S.E. direction. The streams to which it gives rise flow towards the four cardinal points,—e.g. the Eger eastward and the Saale northward, both to the Elbe; the Weisser Main westward to the Rhine, and the Naab southward to the Danube. The chief points of the mass are the Schneeberg and the Ochsenkopf, the former having a height of 3448, and the latter of 3356 ft. The whole district is pretty thickly populated, and there is great abundance of wood, as well as of iron, vitriol, sulphur, copper, lead and many kinds of marble. The inhabitants are employed chiefly in the iron mines, at forges and blast furnaces, and in charcoal burning and the manufacture of blacking from firewood. Although surrounded by railways and crossed by the lines Nuremberg-Eger and Regensburg-Oberkotzau, the Fichtelgebirge, owing principally to its raw climate and bleakness, is not much visited by strangers, the only important points of interest being Alexandersbad (a delightfully situated watering-place) and the granite labyrinth of Luisenburg.

Fichtel Mountains, is a mountain group in Bavaria, serving as the central point from which various mountain ranges extend: the Elstergebirge to the northeast, the Frankenwald to the northwest, and the Böhmerwald to the southeast. The streams that originate here flow towards the four cardinal directions— for example, the Eger flows east to the Elbe, and the Saale flows north to the Elbe; the Weisser Main flows west to the Rhine, and the Naab flows south to the Danube. The main peaks in the area are the Schneeberg, which stands at 3,448 feet, and the Ochsenkopf, at 3,356 feet. The region has a fairly dense population and is rich in resources, including wood, iron, vitriol, sulfur, copper, lead, and various types of marble. The locals primarily work in the iron mines, at forges and blast furnaces, in charcoal production, and in making blacking from firewood. Despite being surrounded by railways and intersected by the Nuremberg-Eger and Regensburg-Oberkotzau lines, the Fichtelgebirge is not heavily visited by tourists due to its harsh climate and desolate landscape. The main points of interest are Alexandersbad, a beautifully located spa, and the granite maze of Luisenburg.

See A. Schmidt, Führer durch das Fichtelgebirge (1899); Daniel, Deutschland; and Meyer, Conversations-Lexikon (1904).

See A. Schmidt, Guide through the Fichtel Mountains (1899); Daniel, Germany; and Meyer, Encyclopedia of Conversations (1904).


FICINO, MARSILIO (1433-1499), Italian philosopher and writer, was born at Figline, in the upper Arno valley, in the year 1433. His father, a physician of some eminence, settled in Florence, and attached himself to the person of Cosimo de’ Medici. Here the young Marsilio received his elementary education in grammar and Latin literature at the high school or studio pubblico. While still a boy, he showed promise of rare literary gifts, and distinguished himself by his facility in the acquisition of knowledge. Not only literature, but the physical sciences, as then taught, had a charm for him; and he is said to have made considerable progress in medicine under the tuition of his father. He was of a tranquil temperament, sensitive to music and poetry, and debarred by weak health from joining in the more active pleasures of his fellow-students. When he had attained the age of eighteen or nineteen years, Cosimo received him into his household, and determined to make use of his rare disposition for scholarship in the development of a long-cherished project. During the session of the council for the union of the Greek and Latin churches at Florence in 1439, Cosimo had made acquaintance with Gemistos Plethon, the Neo-Platonic sage of Mistra, whose discourses upon Plato and the Alexandrian mystics so fascinated the learned society of Florence that they named him the second Plato. It had been the dream of this man’s whole life to supersede both forms of Christianity by a semi-pagan theosophy deduced from the writings of the later Pythagoreans and Platonists. When, therefore, he perceived the impression he had made upon the first citizen of Florence, Gemistos suggested that the capital of modern culture would be a fit place for the resuscitation of the once so famous Academy of Athens. Cosimo took this hint. The second half of the 15th century was destined to be the age of academies in Italy, and the regnant passion for antiquity satisfied itself with any imitation, however grotesque, of Greek or Roman institutions. In order to found his new academy upon a firm basis Cosimo resolved not only to assemble men of letters for the purpose of Platonic disputation at certain regular intervals, but also to appoint a hierophant and official expositor of Platonic doctrine. He hoped by these means to give a certain stability to his projected institution, and to avoid the superficiality of mere enthusiasm. The plan was good; and with the rare instinct for character which distinguished him, he made choice of the right man for his purpose in the young Marsilio.

FICINO, MARSILIO (1433-1499), an Italian philosopher and writer, was born in Figline, in the upper Arno valley, in 1433. His father, a well-known physician, moved to Florence and became associated with Cosimo de’ Medici. There, the young Marsilio received his basic education in grammar and Latin literature at the high school or studio pubblico. Even as a child, he showed exceptional literary talent and stood out for his ability to learn. He was also drawn to the physical sciences as they were taught at the time, and he reportedly made significant progress in medicine under his father's guidance. Marsilio had a calm personality, was sensitive to music and poetry, and, due to his poor health, couldn't engage in the more active pastimes of his fellow students. By the time he was eighteen or nineteen, Cosimo welcomed him into his household, intending to utilize his exceptional academic abilities for a long-held project. During the council in Florence for uniting the Greek and Latin churches in 1439, Cosimo had met Gemistos Plethon, the Neo-Platonic philosopher from Mistra, whose talks on Plato and the Alexandrian mystics captivated the learned community in Florence, earning him the title of the second Plato. This man's lifelong dream was to replace both forms of Christianity with a semi-pagan theosophy based on the writings of the later Pythagoreans and Platonists. Therefore, when he noticed the impact he had made on Florence's leading citizen, Gemistos suggested that the capital of modern culture would be an ideal location to revive the once-famous Academy of Athens. Cosimo took this suggestion to heart. The second half of the 15th century was destined to be the era of academies in Italy, and the overwhelming passion for antiquity led to imitations of Greek or Roman institutions, no matter how absurd. To establish his new academy on a solid foundation, Cosimo decided to gather scholars for regular Platonic discussions and appoint an official teacher and interpreter of Platonic doctrine. He hoped that these efforts would lend stability to his proposed institution and prevent it from becoming merely enthusiastic. The plan was sound, and with his exceptional insight into character, he chose the ideal person for his aims in the young Marsilio.

Before he had begun to learn Greek, Marsilio entered upon the task of studying and elucidating Plato. It is known that at this early period of his life, while he was yet a novice, he wrote voluminous treatises on the great philosopher, which he afterwards, however, gave to the flames. In the year 1459 John Argyropoulos was lecturing on the Greek language and literature at Florence, and Marsilio became his pupil. He was then about twenty-three years of age. Seven years later he felt himself a sufficiently ripe Greek scholar to begin the translation of Plato, by which his name is famous in the history of scholarship, and which is still the best translation of that author Italy can boast. The MSS. on which he worked were supplied by this patron Cosimo de’ Medici and by Amerigo Benci. While the translation was still in progress Ficino from time to time submitted its pages to the scholars, Angelo Poliziano, Cristoforo Landino, Demetrios Chalchondylas and others; and since these men were all members of the Platonic Academy, there can be no doubt that the discussions raised upon the text and Latin version greatly served to promote the purpose of Cosimo’s 318 foundation. At last the book appeared in 1482, the expenses of the press being defrayed by the noble Florentine, Filippo Valori. About the same time Marsilio completed and published his treatise on the Platonic doctrine of immortality (Theologia Platonica de immortalitate animae), the work by which his claims to take rank as a philosopher must be estimated. This was shortly followed by the translation of Plotinus into Latin, and by a voluminous commentary, the former finished in 1486, the latter in 1491, and both published at the cost of Lorenzo de’ Medici just one month after his death. As a supplement to these labours in the field of Platonic and Alexandrian philosophy, Marsilio next devoted his energies to the translation of Dionysius the Areopagite, whose work on the celestial hierarchy, though recognized as spurious by the Neapolitan humanist, Lorenzo Valla, had supreme attraction for the mystic and uncritical intellect of Ficino.

Before he started learning Greek, Marsilio took on the task of studying and explaining Plato. It's known that during this early part of his life, while he was still a beginner, he wrote extensive treatises on the great philosopher, which he later destroyed. In 1459, John Argyropoulos was teaching Greek language and literature in Florence, and Marsilio became his student. He was about twenty-three years old at that time. Seven years later, he felt skilled enough in Greek to begin translating Plato, which is how he became famous in scholarship history, and it remains the best translation of that author that Italy has to offer. The manuscripts he used were provided by his patron Cosimo de’ Medici and Amerigo Benci. While the translation was still in progress, Ficino occasionally shared its pages with scholars like Angelo Poliziano, Cristoforo Landino, Demetrios Chalchondylas, and others; since all these men were part of the Platonic Academy, there's no doubt that their discussions about the text and Latin version significantly contributed to Cosimo’s foundation efforts. Finally, the book was published in 1482, with the printing costs covered by the noble Florentine, Filippo Valori. Around the same time, Marsilio finished and published his treatise on the Platonic doctrine of immortality (Theologia Platonica de immortalitate animae), the work by which his qualifications as a philosopher are measured. This was soon followed by the Latin translation of Plotinus and an extensive commentary, with the translation completed in 1486, and the commentary in 1491, both published at the expense of Lorenzo de’ Medici just one month after his death. As a follow-up to these efforts in Platonic and Alexandrian philosophy, Marsilio then focused on translating Dionysius the Areopagite, whose work on the celestial hierarchy, although deemed spurious by the Neapolitan humanist Lorenzo Valla, held great appeal for the mystically inclined and uncritical mind of Ficino.

It is not easy to value the services of Marsilio Ficino at their proper worth. As a philosopher, he can advance no claim to originality, his laborious treatise on Platonic theology being little better than a mass of ill-digested erudition. As a scholar, he failed to recognize the distinctions between different periods of antiquity and various schools of thought. As an exponent of Plato he suffered from the fatal error of confounding Plato with the later Platonists. It is true that in this respect he did not differ widely from the mass of his contemporaries. Lorenzo Valla and Angelo Poliziano, almost alone among the scholars of that age, showed a true critical perception. For the rest, it was enough that an author should be ancient to secure their admiration. The whole of antiquity seemed precious in the eyes of its discoverers; and even a thinker so acute as Pico di Mirandola dreamed of the possibility of extracting the essence of philosophical truth by indiscriminate collation of the most divergent doctrines. Ficino was, moreover, a firm believer in planetary influences. He could not separate his philosophical from his astrological studies, and caught eagerly at any fragment of antiquity which seemed to support his cherished delusions. It may here be incidentally mentioned that this superstition brought him into trouble with the Roman Church. In 1489 he was accused of magic before Pope Innocent VIII., and had to secure the good offices of Francesco Soderini, Ermolao Barbaro, and the archbishop Rinaldo Orsini, in order to purge himself of a most perilous imputation. What Ficino achieved of really solid, was his translation. The value of that work cannot be denied; the impulse which it gave to Platonic studies in Italy, and through them to the formation of the new philosophy in Europe, is indisputable. Ficino differed from the majority of his contemporaries in this that, while he felt the influence of antiquity no less strongly than they did, he never lost his faith in Christianity, or contaminated his morals by contact with paganism. For him, as for Petrarch, St Augustine was the model of a Christian student. The cardinal point of his doctrine was the identity of religion and philosophy. He held that philosophy consists in the study of truth and wisdom, and that God alone is truth and wisdom,—so that philosophy is but religion, and true religion is genuine philosophy. Religion, indeed, is common to all men, but its pure form is that revealed through Christ; and the teaching of Christ is sufficient to a man in all circumstances of life. Yet it cannot be expected that every man should accept the faith without reasoning; and here Ficino found a place for Platonism. He maintained that the Platonic doctrine was providentially made to harmonize with Christianity, in order that by its means speculative intellects might be led to Christ. The transition from this point of view to an almost superstitious adoration of Plato was natural; and Ficino, we know, joined in the hymns and celebrations with which the Florentine Academy honoured their great master on the day of his birth and death. Those famous festivals in which Lorenzo de’ Medici delighted had indeed a pagan tone appropriate to the sentiment of the Renaissance; nor were all the worshippers of the Athenian sage so true to Christianity as his devoted student.

It’s not easy to value the contributions of Marsilio Ficino accurately. As a philosopher, he doesn’t claim originality; his extensive treatise on Platonic theology is little more than a jumble of poorly arranged scholarship. As a scholar, he didn’t recognize the differences between various periods of ancient history and different schools of thought. As an interpreter of Plato, he made the critical mistake of confusing Plato with later Platonists. It’s true that in this respect he wasn’t very different from many of his contemporaries. Lorenzo Valla and Angelo Poliziano, almost alone among the scholars of that time, displayed genuine critical insight. For the others, simply being ancient was enough to earn admiration. The entirety of antiquity seemed valuable in the eyes of its rediscoverers; even a thinker as sharp as Pico di Mirandola fantasized about the idea of extracting the essence of philosophical truth by randomly gathering the most diverse teachings. Furthermore, Ficino strongly believed in planetary influences. He couldn’t separate his philosophical studies from his astrological ones and eagerly clung to any ancient fragment that seemed to validate his cherished beliefs. It’s worth mentioning that this superstition got him into trouble with the Roman Church. In 1489, he was accused of magic before Pope Innocent VIII and had to enlist the support of Francesco Soderini, Ermolao Barbaro, and Archbishop Rinaldo Orsini to clear himself of a very serious accusation. What Ficino did achieve that was genuinely substantial was his translation work. The value of that work is undeniable; the boost it gave to Platonic studies in Italy, and subsequently to the emergence of new philosophy in Europe, is indisputable. Ficino differed from most of his contemporaries in that, while he felt the influence of antiquity as strongly as they did, he never lost his faith in Christianity or compromised his morals through contact with paganism. For him, as for Petrarch, St. Augustine was the model of a Christian scholar. The central idea of his doctrine was the unity of religion and philosophy. He believed that philosophy is the study of truth and wisdom, and that only God embodies truth and wisdom—thus, philosophy is essentially religion, and true religion is genuine philosophy. Religion is common to all people, but its truest form is that revealed through Christ; and Christ’s teachings are sufficient for a person in any situation. However, it cannot be expected that everyone will accept faith without reasoning; this is where Ficino found a place for Platonism. He argued that Platonic doctrine was purposefully aligned with Christianity, so that speculative thinkers could be led to Christ through it. The shift from this perspective to a near superstitious reverence for Plato was natural; and Ficino, as we know, participated in the hymns and celebrations that the Florentine Academy held in honor of their great master on the anniversary of his birth and death. Those famous festivals, which Lorenzo de’ Medici enjoyed, indeed had a pagan feel consistent with the sentiment of the Renaissance; nor were all the admirers of the Athenian sage as faithful to Christianity as his devoted student.

Of Ficino’s personal life there is but little to be said. In order that he might have leisure for uninterrupted study, Cosimo de’ Medici gave him a house near S. Maria Nuova in Florence, and a little farm at Montevecchio, not far from the villa of Careggi. Ficino, like nearly all the scholars of that age in Italy, delighted in country life. At Montevecchio he lived contentedly among his books, in the neighbourhood of his two friends, Pico at Querceto, and Poliziano at Fiesole, cheering his solitude by playing on the lute, and corresponding with the most illustrious men of Italy. His letters, extending over the years 1474-1494, have been published, both separately and in his collected works. From these it may be gathered that nearly every living scholar of note was included in the list of his friends, and that the subjects which interested him were by no means confined to his Platonic studies. As instances of his close intimacy with illustrious Florentine families, it may be mentioned that he held the young Francesco Guicciardini at the font, and that he helped to cast the horoscope of the Casa Strozzi in the Via Tornabuoni.

Of Ficino's personal life, there's not much to say. To allow him time for uninterrupted study, Cosimo de’ Medici provided him with a house near S. Maria Nuova in Florence and a small farm at Montevecchio, close to the Careggi villa. Like almost all scholars of that era in Italy, Ficino enjoyed country life. At Montevecchio, he lived happily among his books, near his two friends, Pico in Querceto and Poliziano in Fiesole, easing his solitude by playing the lute and corresponding with the most prominent figures in Italy. His letters, covering the years 1474-1494, have been published both individually and in his collected works. From these, it's clear that nearly every notable living scholar was among his friends and that his interests weren't limited to his Platonic studies. As examples of his close relationships with renowned Florentine families, it's worth noting that he held the young Francesco Guicciardini at the baptismal font and assisted in casting the horoscope for the Casa Strozzi on Via Tornabuoni.

At the age of forty Ficino took orders, and was honoured with a canonry of S. Lorenzo. He was henceforth assiduous in the performance of his duties, preaching in his cure of Novoli, and also in the cathedral and the church of the Angeli at Florence. He used to say that no man was better than a good priest, and none worse than a bad one. His life corresponded in all points to his principles. It was the life of a sincere Christian and a real sage,—of one who found the best fruits of philosophy in the practice of the Christian virtues. A more amiable and a more harmless man never lived; and this was much in that age of discordant passions and lawless licence. In spite of his weak health, he was indefatigably industrious. His tastes were of the simplest; and while scholars like Filelfo were intent on extracting money from their patrons by flattery and threats, he remained so poor that he owed the publication of all his many works to private munificence. For his old patrons of the house of Medici Ficino always cherished sentiments of the liveliest gratitude. Cosimo he called his second father, saying that Ficino had given him life, but Cosimo new birth,—the one had devoted him to Galen, the other to the divine Plato,—the one was physician of the body, the other of the soul. With Lorenzo he lived on terms of familiar, affectionate, almost parental intimacy. He had seen the young prince grow up in the palace of the Via Larga, and had helped in the development of his rare intellect. In later years he did not shrink from uttering a word of warning and advice, when he thought that the master of the Florentine republic was too much inclined to yield to pleasure. A characteristic proof of his attachment to the house of Medici was furnished by a yearly custom which he practised at his farm at Montevecchio. He used to invite the contadini who had served Cosimo to a banquet on the day of Saints Cosimo and Damiano (the patron saints of the Medici), and entertained them with music and singing. This affection was amply returned. Cosimo employed almost the last hours of his life in listening to Ficino’s reading of a treatise on the highest good; while Lorenzo, in a poem on true happiness, described him as the mirror of the world, the nursling of sacred muses, the harmonizer of wisdom and beauty in complete accord. Ficino died at Florence in 1499.

At the age of forty, Ficino became ordained and was honored with a canonry at S. Lorenzo. From then on, he was diligent in his responsibilities, preaching in his parish of Novoli, as well as in the cathedral and the church of the Angeli in Florence. He often said that no one was better than a good priest and none worse than a bad one. His life reflected his principles in every way. He lived as a true Christian and a genuine sage—someone who found the best outcomes of philosophy in practicing Christian virtues. A kinder and more harmless man never existed, which was significant in an era filled with conflicting passions and lawlessness. Despite his poor health, he was tireless in his work. His tastes were very simple, and while scholars like Filelfo focused on getting money from their patrons through flattery and threats, he remained so poor that he had to rely on the generosity of others for the publication of his numerous works. Ficino always held a deep sense of gratitude for his old patrons from the Medici family. He referred to Cosimo as his second father, saying that Ficino had given him life, but Cosimo had given him a new beginning—one had devoted him to Galen, the other to the divine Plato—one was the physician of the body, the other of the soul. He had a familiar, affectionate, almost parental relationship with Lorenzo. He watched the young prince grow up in the palace on Via Larga and contributed to the development of his exceptional intellect. In later years, he wasn’t afraid to give a warning or advice when he felt that the leader of the Florentine republic was getting too caught up in pleasure. A clear demonstration of his loyalty to the Medici family was shown through an annual custom he practiced at his farm in Montevecchio. He would invite the peasants who had served Cosimo to a feast on the day of Saints Cosimo and Damian (the Medici’s patron saints), providing them with music and entertainment. This affection was well reciprocated. Cosimo spent many of his final hours listening to Ficino read a treatise on the highest good, while Lorenzo, in a poem about true happiness, referred to him as the mirror of the world, the child of sacred muses, and the harmonizer of wisdom and beauty in perfect harmony. Ficino died in Florence in 1499.

Besides the works already noticed, Ficino composed a treatise on the Christian religion, which was first given to the world in 1476, a translation into Italian of Dante’s De monarchia, a life of Plato, and numerous essays on ethical and semi-philosophical subjects. Vigour of reasoning and originality of view were not his characteristics as a writer; nor will the student who has raked these dust-heaps of miscellaneous learning and old-fashioned mysticism discover more than a few sentences of genuine enthusiasm and simple-hearted aspiration to repay his trouble and reward his patience. Only in familiar letters, prolegomena, and prefaces do we find the man Ficino, and learn to know his thoughts and sentiments unclouded by a mist of citations; these minor compositions have therefore a certain permanent value, and will continually be studied for the light they throw upon the learned circle gathered round Lorenzo in the golden age of humanism.

Besides the works already mentioned, Ficino wrote a treatise on the Christian religion, which was first published in 1476, a translation into Italian of Dante’s De monarchia, a biography of Plato, and various essays on ethical and semi-philosophical topics. Strong reasoning and originality weren't his trademarks as a writer; nor will the reader who has sifted through these piles of miscellaneous knowledge and outdated mysticism find more than a few lines of true passion and genuine aspiration to justify their effort and reward their patience. Only in personal letters, introductions, and prefaces do we encounter Ficino himself and come to understand his thoughts and feelings without the haze of citations; these minor works thus have lasting value and will continue to be studied for the insights they provide into the learned circle around Lorenzo during the golden age of humanism.

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The student may be referred for further information to the following works:—Marsilii Ficini opera (Basileae, 1576); Marsilii Ficini vita, auctore Corsio (ed. Bandini, Pisa, 1771); Roscoe’s Life of Lorenzo de’ Medici; Pasquale Villari, La Storia di Girolamo Savonarola (Firenze, Le Monnier, 1859); Von Reumont, Lorenzo de’ Medici (Leipzig, 1874).

The student can refer to the following works for more information:—Marsilii Ficini opera (Basil, 1576); Marsilii Ficini vita, by Corsio (ed. Bandini, Pisa, 1771); Roscoe’s Life of Lorenzo de’ Medici; Pasquale Villari, La Storia di Girolamo Savonarola (Florence, Le Monnier, 1859); Von Reumont, Lorenzo de’ Medici (Leipzig, 1874).

(J. A. S.)

FICKSBURG, a town of Orange Free State 110 m. by rail E. by N. of Bloemfontein. Pop. (1904) 1954, of whom 1021 were whites. The town is situated near the north bank of the Caledon river and is the capital of one of the finest agricultural and stock-raising regions of the province. It has direct railway communication with Natal and an extensive trade. In the neighbourhood are petroleum wells and a diamond mine. In the fossilized ooze of the Wonderkop, a table mountain of the adjacent Wittebergen, are quantities of petrified fish.

Ficksburg, is a town in the Orange Free State, located 110 miles by rail northeast of Bloemfontein. The population in 1904 was 1,954, with 1,021 of them being white. The town sits near the north bank of the Caledon River and serves as the capital of one of the best agricultural and livestock-raising regions in the province. It has direct railway connections to Natal and a significant trade. Nearby, there are oil wells and a diamond mine. In the fossilized remains of the Wonderkop, a tabletop mountain in the neighboring Wittebergen, there are many preserved fish.


FICTIONS, or legal fictions, in law, the term used for false averments, the truth of which is not permitted to be called in question. English law as well as Roman law abounds in fictions. Sometimes they are merely the condensed expression of a rule of law,—e.g., the fiction of English law that husband and wife were one person, and the fiction of Roman law that the wife was the daughter of the husband. Sometimes they must be regarded as reasons invented in order to justify a rule of law according to an implied ethical standard. Of this sort seems to be the fiction or presumption that every one knows the law, which reconciles the rule that ignorance is no excuse for crime with the moral commonplace that it is unfair to punish a man for violating a law of whose existence he was unaware. Again, some fictions are deliberate falsehoods, adopted as true for the purpose of establishing a remedy not otherwise attainable. Of this sort are the numerous fictions of English law by which the different courts obtained jurisdiction in private business, removed inconvenient restrictions in the law relating to land, &c.

FICTIONS, or legal fictions, are terms in law used for false statements that cannot be challenged as untrue. Both English and Roman law are full of fictions. Sometimes, these fictions are just a simplified expression of a legal rule, like the English legal fiction that a husband and wife are considered one person, or the Roman legal fiction that a wife is regarded as her husband's daughter. Other times, they are justifications created to support a legal rule based on an implied ethical standard. For example, the fiction or presumption that everyone knows the law helps balance the rule that ignorance is not an excuse for crime with the common belief that it’s unfair to punish someone for breaking a law they didn’t know existed. Additionally, some fictions are intentional falsehoods accepted as true to create remedies that wouldn’t be available otherwise. This category includes various fictions in English law that allowed different courts to gain jurisdiction over private matters and removed inconvenient legal restrictions related to land, etc.

What to the scientific jurist is a stumbling-block is to the older writers on English law a beautiful device for reconciling the strict letter of the law with common sense and justice. Blackstone, in noticing the well-known fiction by which the court of king’s bench established its jurisdiction in common pleas (viz. that the defendant was in custody of the marshal of the court), says, “These fictions of law, though at first they may startle the student, he will find upon further consideration to be highly beneficial and useful; especially as this maxim is ever invariably observed, that no fiction shall extend to work an injury; its proper operation being to prevent a mischief or remedy an inconvenience that might result from the general rule of law. So true it is that in fictione juris semper subsistit aequitas.” Austin, on the other hand, while correctly assigning as the cause of many fictions the desire to combine the necessary reform with some show of respect for the abrogated law, makes the following harsh criticism as to others:—“Why the plain meanings which I have now stated should be obscured by the fictions to which I have just adverted I cannot conjecture. A wish on the part of the authors of the fictions to render the law as uncognoscible as may be is probably the cause which Mr Bentham would assign. I judge not, I confess, so uncharitably; I rather impute such fictions to the sheer imbecility (or, if you will, to the active and sportive fancies) of their grave and venerable authors, than to any deliberate design, good or evil.” Bentham, of course, saw in fictions the instrument by which the great object of his abhorrence, judiciary law, was produced. It was the means by which judges usurped the functions of legislators. “A fiction of law.” he says, “may be defined as a wilful falsehood, having for its object the stealing legislative powers by and for hands which could not or durst not openly claim it, and but for the delusion thus produced could not exercise it.” A partnership, he says, was formed between the kings and the judges against the interests of the people. “Monarchs found force, lawyers fraud; thus was the capital found” (Historical Preface to the second edition of the Fragment on Government).1

What seems like a problem to modern legal scholars is a clever way for older writers on English law to reconcile the strict wording of the law with common sense and justice. Blackstone, when discussing the well-known legal fiction that allowed the king’s bench to establish its jurisdiction in common pleas (specifically that the defendant was in the custody of the court’s marshal), states, “These legal fictions, though they might initially surprise students, will prove to be very beneficial and useful upon further reflection, especially since this principle is always respected: no fiction should cause harm; its true purpose is to prevent problems or fix inconveniences that might arise from the general rules of law. It’s truly the case that in fictione juris semper subsistit aequitas.” In contrast, Austin, while rightly attributing many fictions to the desire to blend necessary reforms with some respect for the repealed law, harshly criticizes others: “I cannot understand why the straightforward meanings I've just explained should be obscured by the fictions I just mentioned. Perhaps Mr. Bentham would say it's because the authors of these fictions wanted to make the law as uncognoscible as possible. I don't, I admit, think so negatively; I attribute such fictions more to the utter foolishness (or, if you prefer, the playful whims) of their serious and respected authors than to any intentional good or bad design.” Bentham, of course, viewed fictions as the tool through which the major issue he despised, judiciary law, was created. It was the way judges took on the roles of legislators. “A fiction of law,” he says, “can be defined as an intentional falsehood, aimed at stealing legislative powers by and for those who could not or would not claim them openly, and without the illusion it produces, could not exercise them.” He also notes that a partnership formed between the kings and judges against the interests of the people. “Monarchs found force, lawyers found fraud; thus was the capital established” (Historical Preface to the second edition of the Fragment on Government).1

Sir H. Maine (Ancient Law) supplies the historical element which is always lacking in the explanations of Austin and Bentham. Fictions form one of the agencies by which, in progressive societies, positive law is brought into harmony with public opinion. The others are equity and statutes. Fictions in this sense include, not merely the obvious falsities of the English and Roman systems, but any assumption which conceals a change of law by retaining the old formula after the change has been made. It thus includes both the case law of the English and the Responsa Prudentum of the Romans. “At a particular stage of social progress they are invaluable expedients for overcoming the rigidity of law; and, indeed, without one of them, the fiction of adoption, which permits the family tie to be artificially created, it is difficult to understand how society would ever have escaped from its swaddling clothes, and taken its first steps towards civilization.”

Sir H. Maine (Ancient Law) provides the historical context that is often missing in the explanations by Austin and Bentham. Fictions are one of the methods through which, in advancing societies, positive law aligns with public opinion. The other methods are equity and statutes. Fictions, in this context, include not just the blatant inaccuracies of the English and Roman systems, but any assumption that hides a legal change by keeping the old formula even after the change has occurred. This also encompasses both the case law of the English and the Responsa Prudentum of the Romans. “At a certain point in social development, they are essential tools for overcoming the rigidity of law; and indeed, without one of them, the fiction of adoption, which allows for the artificial creation of family ties, it's hard to see how society could have ever shed its early constraints and begun its journey towards civilization.”

The bolder remedial fictions of English law have been to a large extent removed by legislation, and one great obstacle to any reconstruction of the legal system has thus been partially removed. Where the real remedy stood in glaring contrast to the nominal rule, it has been openly ratified by statute. In ejectment cases the mysterious sham litigants have disappeared. The bond of entail can be broken without having recourse to the collusive proceedings of fine and recovery. Fictions have been almost entirely banished from the procedure of the courts. The action for damages on account of seduction, which is still nominally an action by the father for loss of his daughter’s services, is perhaps the only fictitious action now remaining.

The more extreme legal fictions of English law have largely been eliminated by legislation, removing a major barrier to reforming the legal system. When the actual remedy sharply contrasted with the formal rule, it has been officially recognized by law. In eviction cases, the mysterious fake litigants have vanished. The bond of entail can be dissolved without resorting to the deceptive processes of fine and recovery. Fictions have mostly been removed from court procedures. The action for damages due to seduction, which is still technically a claim by the father for the loss of his daughter’s services, is perhaps the only fictional action left.

Fictions which appear in the form of principles are not so easily dealt with by legislation. To expel them formally from the system would require the re-enactment of vast portions of law. A change in legal modes of speech and thought would be more effective. The legal mind instinctively seizes upon concrete aids to abstract reasoning. Many hard and revolting fictions must have begun their career as metaphors. In some cases the history of the change may still almost be traced. The conception that a man-of-war is a floating island, or that an ambassador’s house is beyond the territorial limits of the country in which he resides, was originally a figure of speech designed to set a rule of law in a striking light. It is then gravely accepted as true in fact, and other rules of law are deduced from it. Its beginning is to be compared with such phrases as “an Englishman’s house is his castle,” which have had no legal offshoots and still remain mere figures of speech.

Fictions that take the form of principles aren't easily handled by laws. To remove them completely from the system would mean rewriting large sections of legislation. Changing the way we use legal language and think about it would be more effective. Legal minds naturally latch onto tangible aids for abstract reasoning. Many difficult and unpleasant fictions likely started out as metaphors. In some cases, we can still trace the history of the change. The idea that a warship is a floating island, or that an ambassador's residence is outside the country's territorial limits where they live, initially served as a metaphor meant to highlight a legal principle. It then becomes seriously accepted as reality, leading to other legal interpretations based on it. This origin can be compared to phrases like "an Englishman’s house is his castle," which haven't led to any legal implications and still remain just expressions.

Constitutional law is of course honeycombed with fictions. Here there is hardly ever anything like direct legislative change, and yet real change is incessant. The rules defining the sovereign power and fixing the authority of its various members are in most points the same as they were at the last revolution,—in many points they have been the same since the beginning of parliamentary government. But they have long ceased to be true in fact; and it would hardly be too much to say that the entire series of formal propositions called the constitution is merely a series of fictions. The legal attributes of the king, and even of the House of Lords, are fictions. If we could suppose that the effects of the Reform Acts had been brought about, not by legislation, but by the decisions of law courts and the practice of House of Commons committees—by such assumptions as that freeholder includes lease-holder and that ten means twenty—we should have in the legal constitution of the House of Commons the same kind of fictions that we find in the legal statement of the attributes of the crown and the House of Lords. Here, too, fictions have been largely resorted to for the purpose of supporting particular 320 theories,—popular or monarchical,—and such have flourished even more vigorously than purely legal fictions.

Constitutional law is obviously filled with fictions. There’s rarely any direct change made by legislation, yet real change is constant. The rules that define sovereign power and establish the authority of its various members are mostly the same as they were during the last revolution—in many ways, they’ve been unchanged since the start of parliamentary government. However, they no longer reflect reality; it's fair to say that the entire list of formal statements known as the constitution is just a series of fictions. The legal roles of the king and even the House of Lords are fictional. If we could imagine that the outcomes of the Reform Acts were achieved, not through legislation, but through court decisions and the practices of House of Commons committees—based on assumptions like that a freeholder includes a leaseholder and that ten means twenty—we would find in the legal structure of the House of Commons the same kinds of fictions that we see in the legal descriptions of the roles of the crown and the House of Lords. Here too, fictions have been used extensively to support specific theories—whether popular or monarchical—and these have thrived even more robustly than purely legal fictions. 320


1 In the same essay Bentham notices the comparative rarity of fictions in Scots law. As to fiction in particular, compared with the work done by it in English law, the use made of it by the Scottish lawyers is next to nothing. No need have they had of any such clumsy instrument. They have two others “of their own making, by which things of the same sort have been done with much less trouble. Nobile officium gives them the creative power of legislation; this and the word desuetude together the annihilative.” And he notices aptly enough that, while the English lawyers declared that James II. had abdicated the throne (which everybody knew to be false), the Scottish lawyers boldly said he had forfeited it.

1 In the same essay, Bentham points out how rare fictions are in Scots law. Specifically, when it comes to fiction, Scottish lawyers use it hardly at all compared to its role in English law. They haven't needed such a cumbersome tool. Instead, they have developed two others “of their own making, which achieve the same results with much less hassle. Nobile officium gives them the power to create laws; together with the term desuetude, it effectively nullifies.” He also astutely notes that while English lawyers claimed that James II. had abdicated the throne (which everyone knew was untrue), Scottish lawyers confidently asserted that he had forfeited it.


FIDDES, RICHARD (1671-1725), English divine and historian, was born at Hunmanby and educated at Oxford. He took orders, and obtained the living of Halsham in Holderness in 1696. Owing to ill-health he applied for leave to reside at Wickham, and in 1712 he removed to London on the plea of poverty, intending to pursue a literary career. In London he met Swift, who procured him a chaplaincy at Hull. He also became chaplain to the earl of Oxford. After losing the Hull chaplaincy through a change of ministry in 1714, he devoted himself to writing. His best book is a Life of Cardinal Wolsey (London, 1724), containing documents which are still valuable for reference; of his other writings the Prefatory Epistle containing some remarks to be published on Homer’s Iliad (London, 1714), was occasioned by Pope’s proposed translation of the Iliad, and his Theologia speculativa (London, 1718), earned him the degree of D.D. at Oxford. In his own day he had a considerable reputation as an author and man of learning.

FIDDES, RICHARD (1671-1725), English scholar and historian, was born in Hunmanby and studied at Oxford. He was ordained and became the vicar of Halsham in Holderness in 1696. Due to health issues, he requested permission to live in Wickham, and in 1712 he moved to London claiming poverty, with the intention of pursuing a writing career. In London, he met Swift, who helped him secure a chaplaincy in Hull. He also became chaplain to the Earl of Oxford. After losing the Hull chaplaincy due to a change in government in 1714, he focused on writing. His best work is a Life of Cardinal Wolsey (London, 1724), which includes references that are still useful today; of his other works, the Prefatory Epistle containing some remarks to be published on Homer’s Iliad (London, 1714) was prompted by Pope’s planned translation of the Iliad, and his Theologia speculativa (London, 1718), earned him an honorary Doctor of Divinity degree at Oxford. In his time, he was well-regarded as an author and scholar.


FIDDLE (O. Eng. fithele, fidel, &c., Fr. vièle, viole, violon; M. H. Ger. videle, mod. Ger. Fiedel), a popular term for the violin, derived from the names of certain of its ancestors. The word fiddle antedates the appearance of the violin by several centuries, and in England did not always represent an instrument of the same type. The word has first been traced in 1205 in Layamon’s Brut (7002), “of harpe, of salteriun, of fithele and of coriun.” In Chaucer’s time the fiddle was evidently a well-known instrument:

FIDDLE (Old English fithele, fidel, etc., French vièle, viole, violon; Middle High German videle, modern German Fiedel), a common term for the violin, comes from the names of some of its predecessors. The term fiddle existed several centuries before the violin came into play, and in England, it didn’t always refer to the same type of instrument. The earliest record of the word is from 1205 in Layamon’s Brut (7002), “of harp, of psaltery, of fithele and of coriun.” By Chaucer’s time, the fiddle was clearly a well-known instrument:

“For him was lever have at his beddes hed

"For him was better to have at his bedside"

A twenty bokes, clothed in black or red.

A twenty books, covered in black or red.

Of Aristotle and his Philosophie,

Of Aristotle and his Philosophy,

Than robes riche or fidel or sautrie.”

Than robes rich or braided or embroidered.”

(Prologue, v. 298.)

(Prologue, v. 298.)

The origin of the fiddle is of the greatest interest; it will be found inseparable from that of the violin both as regards the instruments and the etymology of the words; the remote common ancestor is the ketharah of the Assyrians, the parent of the Greek cithara. The Romans are responsible for the word fiddle, having bestowed upon a kind of cithara—probably then in its first transition—the name of fidiculae (more rarely fidicula), a diminutive form of fides. In Alain de Lille’s De planctu naturae against the word lira stands as equivalent vioel, with the definition “Lira est quoddam genuē citharae vel fitola alioquin de reot. Hoc instrumentum est multum vulgare.” This is a marginal note in writing of the 13th century.1

The origin of the fiddle is incredibly interesting; it’s closely linked to the violin in terms of both the instruments and the meaning of the words. The distant common ancestor is the ketharah from the Assyrians, which is the precursor to the Greek cithara. The Romans gave us the word fiddle, naming a type of cithara—likely in its early evolution—fidiculae (less commonly fidicula), a diminutive form of fides. In Alain de Lille’s De planctu naturae, the word lira is compared to vioel, defined as “Lira is a type of cithara or fitola, otherwise known as a common thing. This instrument is very popular.” This is a side note from the 13th century.1

Some of the transitions from fidicula to fiddle are made evident in the accompanying table:

Some of the changes from fidicula to fiddle are shown clearly in the table below:

Latin fidiculae
Medieval Latin vitula, fitola.
French vièle, vielle, viole.
Provencal viula.
Spanish viguela, vihuela, vigolo.
Old High German fidula.
Middle High German videle.
German fiedel, violine.
Italian viola, violino.
Dutch vedel.
Danish fiddel.
Anglo-Saxon fithele.
Old English fithele, fythal, fithel, fythylle,
    fidel, fidylle, (south) vithele.

For the descent of the guitar-fiddle, the first bowed ancestor of the violin, through many transitions from the cithara, see Cithara, Guitar and Guitar-Fiddle.

For the evolution of the guitar-fiddle, the first bowed predecessor of the violin, through various changes from the cithara, see Cithara, Guitar and Guitar-Fiddle.

From Julius Rühlmann’s Geschichte der Bogeninstrumente.
Minnesinger Fiddle. Germany, 13th Century, from the Manesse MSS.

In the minnesinger and troubadour fiddles, of which evidences abound during the 12th, 13th and 14th centuries, are to be observed the structural characteristics of the violin and its ancestors in the course of evolution. The principal of these are first of all the shallow sound-chest, composed of belly and back, almost flat, connected by ribs (also present in the cithara), with incurvations more or less pronounced, an arched bridge, a finger-board and strings (varying in number), vibrated by means of a bow. The central rose sound-holes of stringed instruments whose strings are plucked by fingers, or plectrum have given place to smaller lateral sound-holes placed on each side of the strings. It is in Germany,2 where contemporary drawings of fiddles of the 13th and 14th centuries furnish an authoritative clue, and in France, that the development may best be followed. The German minnesinger fiddle with sloping shoulders was the prototype of the viols, whereas the guitar-fiddle produced the violin through the intermediary of the Italian bowed Lyra.

In the fiddles of the minnesingers and troubadours, which were commonly found during the 12th, 13th, and 14th centuries, you can see the design features of the violin and its ancestors as they evolved. The main characteristics include a shallow soundbox made up of a flat top and back, connected by ribs (also found in the cithara), with varying curves, an arched bridge, a fingerboard, and strings (which can vary in number) that are played with a bow. The central rose soundholes of stringed instruments that have their strings plucked with fingers or a plectrum have been replaced by smaller side soundholes located on each side of the strings. It is in Germany, 2 where contemporary drawings of 13th and 14th-century fiddles provide a valuable insight, and in France, that the development can be best traced. The German minnesinger fiddle with its sloping shoulders was the precursor to the viols, while the guitar-fiddle eventually led to the creation of the violin through the Italian bowed Lyra.

The fiddle of the Carolingian epoch,—such, for instance, as that mentioned by Otfrid of Weissenburg3 in his Harmony of the Gospels (c. 868),

The fiddle from the Carolingian period—like the one referenced by Otfrid of Weissenburg3 in his Harmony of the Gospels (c. 868),

“Sih thar ouch al ruarit

Sih thar ouch al ruarit

This organo fuarit

This organic fruit

Lira joh fidula,” &c.,—

Lira joh fidula,” &c.,—

was in all probability still an instrument whose strings were plucked by the fingers, a cithara in transition.

was probably still an instrument whose strings were played by hand, a cithara in transition.

(K. S.)

1 See C.E.H. de Coussemaker, Mémoire sur Hucbald (Paris, 1841).

1 See C.E.H. de Coussemaker, Memoir on Hucbald (Paris, 1841).

2 See the Manesse MSS. reproduced in part by F.H. von der Hagen, Heldenbilder (Leipzig and Berlin, 1855) and Bildersaal. The fiddles are reproduced in J. Rühlmann’s Geschichte der Bogeninstrumente (Brunswick, 1882), plates.

2 Check out the Manesse manuscripts featured partially by F.H. von der Hagen in Heldenbilder (Leipzig and Berlin, 1855) and Bildersaal. The fiddles are shown in J. Rühlmann’s Geschichte der Bogeninstrumente (Brunswick, 1882), plates.

3 See Schiller’s Thesaurus antiq. Teut. vol. i. p. 379.

3 See Schiller’s Thesaurus antiq. Teut. vol. i. p. 379.


FIDENAE, an ancient town of Latium, situated about 5 m. N. of Rome on the Via Salaria, which ran between it and the Tiber. It was for some while the frontier of the Roman territory and was often in the hands of Veii. It appears to have fallen under the Roman sway after the capture of this town, and is spoken of by classical authors as a place almost deserted in their time. It seems, however, to have had some importance as a post station. The site of the arx of the ancient town is probably to be sought on the hill on which lies the Villa Spada, though no traces of early buildings or defences are to be seen: pre-Roman tombs are to be found in the cliffs to the north. The later village lay at the foot of the hill on the eastern edge of the high-road, and its curia, with a dedicatory inscription to M. Aurelius by the Senatus Fidenatium, was excavated in 1889. Remains of other buildings may also be seen.

FIDENAE, is an ancient town in Latium, located about 5 miles north of Rome along the Via Salaria, which connected it to the Tiber. For a period, it served as the border of Roman territory and was frequently controlled by Veii. It seems to have come under Roman control after Veii was captured and is described by classical authors as mostly deserted in their time. However, it appears to have had some significance as a postal station. The site of the ancient town's arx is likely on the hill where the Villa Spada is situated, though no remnants of early structures or defenses are visible: pre-Roman tombs can be found in the cliffs to the north. The later village was located at the base of the hill on the eastern side of the main road, and its curia, which has a dedicatory inscription to M. Aurelius from the Senatus Fidenatium, was uncovered in 1889. Remains of other buildings can also be seen.

See T. Ashby in Papers of the British School at Rome, iii. 17.

See T. Ashby in Papers of the British School at Rome, iii. 17.


FIDUCIARY (Lat. fiduciaries, one in whom trust, fiducia, is reposed), of or belonging to a position of trust, especially of one who stands in a particular relationship of confidence to another. Such relationships are, in law, those of parent and child, guardian and ward, trustee and cestui que trust, legal adviser and client, spiritual adviser, doctor and patient, &c. In many of these the law has attached special obligations in the case of gifts made to the “fiduciary,” on whom is laid the onus of proving that no “undue influence” has been exercised. (See Contract; Children, Law Relating to; Infant; Trust.)

FIDUCIARY (Lat. fiduciaries, someone in whom trust, fiducia, is placed), refers to a position of trust, particularly for someone who has a specific relationship of confidence with another person. These relationships in law include those of parent and child, guardian and ward, trustee and cestui que trust, legal advisor and client, spiritual advisor, doctor and patient, etc. In many of these cases, the law has imposed special obligations for gifts made to the “fiduciary,” who is responsible for proving that no “undue influence” has been exerted. (See Contract; Children, Law Relating to; Infant; Trust.)


FIEF, a feudal estate in land, land held from a superior (see Feudalism). The word is the French form, which is represented in Medieval Latin as feudum or feodum, and in English as “fee” or “feu” (see Fee). The A. Fr. feoffer, to invest with a fief or fee, has given the English law terms “feoffee” and “feoffment” (q.v.).

Fief, a feudal estate in land, land owned from a superior (see Feudalism). The term comes from the French, which is represented in Medieval Latin as feudum or feodum, and in English as “fee” or “feu” (see Fee). The Old French feoffer, to grant a fief or fee, has led to the English legal terms “feoffee” and “feoffment” (q.v.).


FIELD, CYRUS WEST (1819-1892), American capitalist, projector of the first Atlantic cable, was born at Stockbridge, Massachusetts, on the 30th of November 1819. He was a brother of David Dudley Field. At fifteen he became a clerk in the store of A.T. Stewart & Co., of New York, and stayed there three years; then worked for two years with his brother, Matthew Dickinson Field, in a paper-mill at Lee, Massachusetts; and in 1840 went into the paper business for himself at Westfield, Massachusetts, but almost immediately became a partner in E. Root & Co., wholesale paper dealers in New York City, who failed in the following year. Field soon afterwards formed with a 321 brother-in-law the firm of Cyrus W. Field & Co., and in 1853 had accumulated $250,000, paid off the debts of the Root company and retired from active business, leaving his name and $100,000 with the concern. In the same year he travelled with Frederick E. Church, the artist, through South America. In 1854 he became interested, through his brother Matthew, a civil engineer, in the project of Frederick Newton Gisborne (1824-1892) for a telegraph across Newfoundland; and he was attracted by the idea of a trans-Atlantic telegraphic cable, as to which he consulted S.F.B. Morse and Matthew F. Maury, head of the National Observatory at Washington. With Peter Cooper, Moses Taylor (1806-1882), Marshall Owen Roberts (1814-1880) and Chandler White, he formed the New York, Newfoundland & London Telegraph Company, which procured a more favourable charter than Gisborne’s, and had a capital of $1,500,000. Having secured all the practicable landing rights on the American side of the ocean, he and John W. Brett, who was now his principal colleague, approached Sir Charles Bright (q.v.) in London, and in December 1556 the Atlantic Telegraph Company was organized by them in Great Britain, a government grant being secured of £14,000 annually for government messages, to be reduced to £10,000 annually when the cable should pay a 6% yearly dividend; similar grants were made by the United States government. Unsuccessful attempts to lay the cable were made in August 1857 and in June 1858, but the complete cable was laid between the 7th of July and the 5th of August 1858; for a time messages were transmitted, but in October the cable became useless, owing to the failure of its electrical insulation. Field, however, did not abandon the enterprise, and finally in July 1866, after a futile attempt in the previous year, a cable was laid and brought successfully into use. From the Congress of the United States he received a gold medal and a vote of thanks, and he received many other honours both at home and abroad. In 1877 he bought a controlling interest in the New York Elevated Railroad Company, controlling the Third and Ninth Avenue lines, of which he was president in 1877-1880. He worked with Jay Gould for the completion of the Wabash railway, and at the time of his greatest stock activity bought The New York Evening Express and The Mail and combined them as The Mail and Express, which he controlled for six years. In 1879 Field suffered financially by Samuel J. Tilden’s heavy sales (during Field’s absence in Europe) of “Elevated” stock, which forced the price down from 200 to 164; but Field lost much more in the great “Manhattan squeeze” of the 24th of June 1887, when Jay Gould and Russell Sage, who had been supposed to be his backers in an attempt to bring the Elevated stock to 200, forsook him, and the price fell from 156½ to 114 in half an hour. Field died in New York on the 12th of July 1892.

FIELD, CYRUS WEST (1819-1892), American businessman, known for being the architect of the first Atlantic cable, was born in Stockbridge, Massachusetts, on November 30, 1819. He was the brother of David Dudley Field. At fifteen, he started working as a clerk at A.T. Stewart & Co. in New York, where he stayed for three years; he then worked for two years with his brother, Matthew Dickinson Field, at a paper mill in Lee, Massachusetts. In 1840, he began his own paper business in Westfield, Massachusetts, but soon became a partner in E. Root & Co., wholesale paper dealers in New York City, which went bankrupt the following year. Shortly after, Field and his brother-in-law established the firm of Cyrus W. Field & Co. By 1853, he had accumulated $250,000, paid off the debts of the Root company, and stepped back from active business, leaving his name and $100,000 with the company. That same year, he traveled through South America with the artist Frederick E. Church. In 1854, he became involved, through his brother Matthew, a civil engineer, in the telegraph project proposed by Frederick Newton Gisborne (1824-1892) across Newfoundland; he was drawn to the idea of a trans-Atlantic telegraphic cable and sought advice from S.F.B. Morse and Matthew F. Maury, head of the National Observatory in Washington. Along with Peter Cooper, Moses Taylor (1806-1882), Marshall Owen Roberts (1814-1880), and Chandler White, he founded the New York, Newfoundland & London Telegraph Company, which obtained a more favorable charter than Gisborne’s and was capitalized at $1,500,000. After securing all possible landing rights on the American side of the ocean, he and John W. Brett, his main partner, approached Sir Charles Bright (q.v.) in London, and in December 1856, they organized the Atlantic Telegraph Company in Great Britain, securing a government grant of £14,000 annually for government messages, which would reduce to £10,000 annually once the cable paid a 6% yearly dividend; similar grants were made by the U.S. government. Several unsuccessful attempts to lay the cable occurred in August 1857 and June 1858, but the entire cable was successfully laid between July 7 and August 5, 1858; for a while, messages were sent, but by October, the cable became useless due to issues with its electrical insulation. However, Field did not give up on the project, and finally, in July 1866, following an unsuccessful attempt the previous year, a cable was laid and put into operation successfully. He received a gold medal and a vote of thanks from the United States Congress, as well as many other honors both domestically and internationally. In 1877, he acquired a controlling interest in the New York Elevated Railroad Company, overseeing the Third and Ninth Avenue lines, where he served as president from 1877 to 1880. He collaborated with Jay Gould to complete the Wabash railway, and during his active stock market involvement, he purchased The New York Evening Express and The Mail and merged them into The Mail and Express, which he managed for six years. In 1879, Field faced financial losses due to Samuel J. Tilden’s large sell-offs (while Field was in Europe) of “Elevated” stock, which plummeted from 200 to 164; however, he suffered even greater losses during the infamous “Manhattan squeeze” on June 24, 1887, when Jay Gould and Russell Sage, who had been expected to back him in an effort to raise Elevated stock to 200, abandoned him, causing the price to crash from 156½ to 114 in just half an hour. Field passed away in New York on July 12, 1892.

See the biography by his daughter, Isabella (Field) Judson, Cyrus W. Field, His Life and Work (New York, 1896); H.M. Field, History of the Atlantic Telegraph (New York, 1866); and Charles Bright, The Story of the Atlantic Cable (New York, 1903).

See the biography by his daughter, Isabella (Field) Judson, Cyrus W. Field, His Life and Work (New York, 1896); H.M. Field, History of the Atlantic Telegraph (New York, 1866); and Charles Bright, The Story of the Atlantic Cable (New York, 1903).


FIELD, DAVID DUDLEY (1805-1894), American lawyer and law reformer, was born in Haddam, Connecticut, on the 13th of February 1805. He was the oldest of the four sons of the Rev. David Dudley Field (1781-1867), a well-known American clergyman and author. He graduated at Williams College in 1825, and settled in New York City, where he studied law, was admitted to the bar in 1828, and rapidly won a high position in his profession. Becoming convinced that the common law in America, and particularly in New York state, needed radical changes in respect to the unification and simplification of its procedure, he visited Europe in 1836 and thoroughly investigated the courts, procedure and codes of England, France and other countries, and then applied himself to the task of bringing about in the United States a codification of the common law procedure. For more than forty years every moment that he could spare from his extensive practice was devoted to this end. He entered upon his great work by a systematic publication of pamphlets and articles in journals and magazines in behalf of his reform, but for some years he met with a discouraging lack of interest. He appeared personally before successive legislative committees, and in 1846 published a pamphlet, “The Reorganization of the Judiciary,” which had its influence in persuading the New York State Constitutional Convention of that year to report in favour of a codification of the laws. Finally in 1847 he was appointed as the head of a state commission to revise the practice and procedure. The first part of the commission’s work, consisting of a code of civil procedure, was reported and enacted in 1848, and by the 1st of January 1850 the complete code of civil and criminal procedure was completed, and was subsequently enacted by the legislature. The basis of the new system, which was almost entirely Field’s work, was the abolition of the existing distinction in forms of procedure between suits in law and equity requiring separate actions, and their unification and simplification in a single action. Eventually the civil code with some changes was adopted in twenty-four states, and the criminal code in eighteen, and the whole formed a basis of the reform in procedure in England and several of her colonies. In 1857 Field became chairman of a state commission for the reduction into a written and systematic code of the whole body of law of the state, excepting those portions already reported upon by the Commissioners of Practice and Pleadings. In this work he personally prepared almost the whole of the political and civil codes. The codification, which was completed in February 1865, was adopted only in small part by the state, but it has served as a model after which most of the law codes of the United States have been constructed. In 1866 he proposed to the British National Association for the Promotion of Social Science a revision and codification of the laws of all nations. For an international commission of lawyers he prepared Draft Outlines of an International Code (1872), the submission of which resulted in the organization of the international Association for the Reform and Codification of the Laws of Nations, of which he became president. In politics Field was originally an anti-slavery Democrat, and he supported Van Buren in the Free Soil campaign of 1848. He gave his support to the Republican party in 1856 and to the Lincoln administration throughout the Civil War. After 1876, however, he returned to the Democratic party, and from January to March 1877 served out in Congress the unexpired term of Smith Ely, elected mayor of New York City. During his brief Congressional career he delivered six speeches, all of which attracted attention, introduced a bill in regard to the presidential succession, and appeared before the Electoral Commission in Tilden’s interest. He died in New York City on the 13th of April 1894.

FIELD, DAVID DUDLEY (1805-1894), an American lawyer and law reformer, was born in Haddam, Connecticut, on February 13, 1805. He was the eldest of four sons of Rev. David Dudley Field (1781-1867), a well-known American clergyman and author. He graduated from Williams College in 1825 and moved to New York City, where he studied law, was admitted to the bar in 1828, and quickly rose to prominence in his profession. Convicted that the common law in America, especially in New York, required significant changes for unification and simplification of its procedures, he traveled to Europe in 1836 to thoroughly examine the courts, procedures, and codes of England, France, and other countries. He then dedicated himself to advocating for a codification of common law procedures in the United States. For over forty years, he devoted every spare moment from his busy practice to this cause. He began his efforts by systematically publishing pamphlets and articles in journals and magazines promoting his reform, but faced years of disappointing indifference. He personally appeared before multiple legislative committees, and in 1846, published a pamphlet titled “The Reorganization of the Judiciary,” which helped persuade that year's New York State Constitutional Convention to support the codification of laws. In 1847, he was appointed head of a state commission responsible for revising practice and procedure. The commission's first output, consisting of a civil procedure code, was reported and enacted in 1848, and by January 1, 1850, the complete civil and criminal procedure code was finished and later enacted by the legislature. The foundation of this new system, which was largely Field’s work, was the elimination of the existing distinctions in procedural forms between legal and equitable suits that required separate actions, unifying and simplifying them into a single action. Eventually, the civil code—with some modifications—was adopted in twenty-four states, and the criminal code in eighteen, forming a basis for procedural reform in England and several of its colonies. In 1857, Field became chair of a state commission tasked with reducing the entire body of state law into a written and systematic code, except for sections already addressed by the Commissioners of Practice and Pleadings. In this effort, he personally drafted nearly all of the political and civil codes. Although the codification completed in February 1865 was only partially adopted by the state, it served as a model for most law codes constructed in the United States. In 1866, he proposed a revision and codification of laws for all nations to the British National Association for the Promotion of Social Science. For an international commission of lawyers, he prepared Draft Outlines of an International Code (1872), leading to the formation of the International Association for the Reform and Codification of the Laws of Nations, which he presided over. Politically, Field started as an anti-slavery Democrat and supported Van Buren in the 1848 Free Soil campaign. He backed the Republican party in 1856 and supported the Lincoln administration throughout the Civil War. However, after 1876, he returned to the Democratic party and served from January to March 1877 in Congress for the remaining term of Smith Ely, who was elected mayor of New York City. During his brief congressional tenure, he delivered six notable speeches, introduced a bill concerning presidential succession, and represented Tilden before the Electoral Commission. He passed away in New York City on April 13, 1894.

Part of his numerous pamphlets and addresses were collected in his Speeches, Arguments and Miscellaneous Papers (3 vols., 1884-1890). See also the Life of David Dudley Field (New York, 1898), by Rev. Henry Martyn Field.

Part of his many pamphlets and speeches were compiled in his Speeches, Arguments and Miscellaneous Papers (3 vols., 1884-1890). Also see the Life of David Dudley Field (New York, 1898), by Rev. Henry Martyn Field.


FIELD, EUGENE (1850-1895), American poet, was born at St Louis, Missouri, on the 2nd of September 1850. He spent his boyhood in Vermont and Massachusetts; studied for short periods at Williams and Knox Colleges and the University of Missouri, but without taking a degree; and worked as a journalist on various papers, finally becoming connected with the Chicago News. A Little Book of Profitable Tales appeared in Chicago in 1889 and in New York the next year; but Field’s place in later American literature chiefly depends upon his poems of Christmas-time and childhood (of which “Little Boy Blue” and “A Dutch Lullaby” are most widely known), because of their union of obvious sentiment with fluent lyrical form. His principal collections of poems are: A Little Book of Western Verse (1889); A Second Book of Verse (1892); With Trumpet and Drum (1892); and Love Songs of Childhood (1894). Field died at Chicago on the 4th of November 1895.

FIELD, EUGENE (1850-1895), American poet, was born in St. Louis, Missouri, on September 2, 1850. He spent his childhood in Vermont and Massachusetts, studied briefly at Williams and Knox Colleges and the University of Missouri, but never earned a degree. He worked as a journalist for various newspapers and eventually became associated with the Chicago News. A Little Book of Profitable Tales was released in Chicago in 1889 and in New York the following year. However, Field’s significance in modern American literature mainly comes from his Christmas and childhood poems (notably “Little Boy Blue” and “A Dutch Lullaby”) due to their combination of heartfelt sentiment with smooth lyrical style. His major poetry collections include: A Little Book of Western Verse (1889); A Second Book of Verse (1892); With Trumpet and Drum (1892); and Love Songs of Childhood (1894). Field passed away in Chicago on November 4, 1895.

His works were collected in ten volumes (1896), at New York. His prose Love-affairs of a Bibliomaniac (1896) contains a Memoir by his brother Roswell Martin Field (b. 1851). See also Slason Thompson, Eugene Field: a study in heredity and contradictions (2 vols., New York, 1901).

His works were collected in ten volumes (1896) in New York. His prose Love-affairs of a Bibliomaniac (1896) includes a memoir by his brother Roswell Martin Field (b. 1851). Also, see Slason Thompson, Eugene Field: a study in heredity and contradictions (2 vols., New York, 1901).


FIELD, FREDERICK (1801-1885), English divine and biblical scholar, was born in London and educated at Christ’s hospital and Trinity College, Cambridge, where he obtained a fellowship in 1824. He took orders in 1828, and began a close study of patristic theology. Eventually he published an emended and 322 annotated text of Chrysostom’s Homiliae in Matthaeum (Cambridge, 1839), and some years later he contributed to Pusey’s Bibliotheca Patrum (Oxford, 1838-1870), a similarly treated text of Chrysostom’s homilies on Paul’s epistles. The scholarship displayed in both of these critical editions is of a very high order. In 1839 he had accepted the living of Great Saxham, in Suffolk, and in 1842 he was presented by his college to the rectory of Reepham in Norfolk. He resigned in 1863, and settled at Norwich, in order to devote his whole time to study. Twelve years later he completed the Origenis Hexaplorum quae supersunt (Oxford, 1867-1875), now well known as Field’s Hexapla, a text reconstructed from the extant fragments of Origen’s work of that name, together with materials drawn from the Syro-hexaplar version and the Septuagint of Holmes and Parsons (Oxford, 1798-1827). Field was appointed a member of the Old Testament revision company in 1870.

FREDERICK FIELD (1801-1885), an English theologian and biblical scholar, was born in London and educated at Christ’s Hospital and Trinity College, Cambridge, where he earned a fellowship in 1824. He was ordained in 1828 and started a deep study of early Christian theology. He eventually published an edited and annotated version of Chrysostom’s Homiliae in Matthaeum (Cambridge, 1839), and several years later, he contributed to Pusey’s Bibliotheca Patrum (Oxford, 1838-1870), offering a similar edition of Chrysostom’s homilies on Paul’s letters. The scholarship in both of these critical editions is of very high quality. In 1839, he accepted the position of rector at Great Saxham, Suffolk, and in 1842, he was appointed by his college to the rectory of Reepham in Norfolk. He resigned in 1863 and moved to Norwich to focus entirely on his studies. Twelve years later, he completed the Origenis Hexaplorum quae supersunt (Oxford, 1867-1875), now widely recognized as Field’s Hexapla, a text reconstructed from the surviving fragments of Origen’s work of that name, along with materials from the Syro-hexaplar version and the Septuagint of Holmes and Parsons (Oxford, 1798-1827). Field was appointed a member of the Old Testament revision committee in 1870.


FIELD, HENRY MARTYN (1822-1907), American author and clergyman, brother of Cyrus Field, was born at Stockbridge, Massachusetts, on the 3rd of April 1822; he graduated at Williams College in 1838, and was pastor of a Presbyterian church in St Louis, Missouri, from 1842 to 1847, and of a Congregational church in West Springfield, Massachusetts, from 1850 to 1854. The interval between his two pastorates he spent in Europe. From 1854 to 1898 he was editor and for many years he was also sole proprietor of The Evangelist, a New York periodical devoted to the interests of the Presbyterian church. He spent the last years of his life in retirement at Stockbridge, Mass., where he died on the 26th of January 1907. He was the author of a series of books of travel, which achieved unusual popularity. His two volumes descriptive of a trip round the world in 1875-1876, entitled From the Lakes of Killarney to the Golden Horn (1876) and From Egypt to Japan (1877), are almost classic in their way, and have passed through more than twenty editions. Among his other publications are The Irish Confederates and the Rebellion of 1798 (1850), The History of the Atlantic Telegraph (1866), Faith or Agnosticism? the Field-Ingersoll Discussion (1888), Old Spain and New Spain (1888), and Life of David Dudley Field (1898).

FIELD, HENRY MARTYN (1822-1907), American author and clergyman, brother of Cyrus Field, was born in Stockbridge, Massachusetts, on April 3, 1822. He graduated from Williams College in 1838 and served as the pastor of a Presbyterian church in St. Louis, Missouri, from 1842 to 1847, followed by a Congregational church in West Springfield, Massachusetts, from 1850 to 1854. He spent the time between his two pastorates in Europe. From 1854 to 1898, he was the editor and for many years the sole owner of The Evangelist, a New York magazine focused on the interests of the Presbyterian church. He spent the last years of his life in retirement in Stockbridge, Mass., where he passed away on January 26, 1907. He authored a series of travel books that gained notable popularity. His two volumes detailing a trip around the world in 1875-1876, titled From the Lakes of Killarney to the Golden Horn (1876) and From Egypt to Japan (1877), are almost considered classics and have gone through more than twenty editions. Other works include The Irish Confederates and the Rebellion of 1798 (1850), The History of the Atlantic Telegraph (1866), Faith or Agnosticism? the Field-Ingersoll Discussion (1888), Old Spain and New Spain (1888), and Life of David Dudley Field (1898).

He is not to be confused with another Henry Martyn Field, the gynaecologist, who was born in 1837 at Brighton, Mass., and graduated at Harvard in 1859 and at the College of Physicians and Surgeons in New York City in 1862; he was professor of Materia Medica and therapeutics at Dartmouth from 1871 to 1887 and of therapeutics from 1887 to 1893.

He should not be confused with another Henry Martyn Field, the gynecologist, who was born in 1837 in Brighton, Mass., and graduated from Harvard in 1859 and the College of Physicians and Surgeons in New York City in 1862. He was a professor of Materia Medica and therapeutics at Dartmouth from 1871 to 1887, and he taught therapeutics from 1887 to 1893.


FIELD, JOHN (1782-1837), English musical composer and pianist, was born at Dublin in 1782. He came of a musical family, his father being a violinist, and his grandfather the organist in one of the churches of Dublin. From the latter the boy received his first musical education. When a few years later the family settled in London, Field became the favourite pupil of the celebrated Clementi, whom he accompanied to Paris, and later, in 1802, on his great concert tour through France, Germany and Russia. Under the auspices of his master Field appeared in public in most of the great European capitals, especially in St Petersburg, and in that city he remained when Clementi returned to England. During his stay with the great pianist Field had to suffer many privations owing to Clementi’s all but unexampled parsimony; but when the latter left Russia his splendid connexion amongst the highest circles of the capital became Field’s inheritance. His marriage with a French lady of the name of Charpentier was anything but happy, and had soon to be dissolved. Field made frequent concert tours to the chief cities of Russia, and in 1820 settled permanently in Moscow. In 1831 he came to England for a short time, and for the next four years led a migratory life in France, Germany and Italy, exciting the admiration of amateurs wherever he appeared in public. In Naples he fell seriously ill, and lay several months in the hospital, till a Russian family discovered him and brought him back to Moscow. There he lingered for several years till his death on the 11th of January 1837. Field’s training and the cast of his genius were not of a kind to enable him to excel in the larger forms of instrumental music, and his seven concerti for the pianoforte are now forgotten. Neither do his quartets for strings and pianoforte hold their own by the side of those of the great masters. But his “nocturnes,” a form of music highly developed if not actually created by him, remain all but unrivalled for their tenderness and dreaminess of conception, combined with a continuous flow of beautiful melody. They were indeed Chopin’s models. Field’s execution on the pianoforte was nearly allied to the nature of his compositions, beauty and poetical charm of touch being one of the chief characteristics of his style. Moscheles, who heard Field in 1831, speaks of his “enchanting legato, his tenderness and elegance and his beautiful touch.”

FIELD, JOHN (1782-1837), an English composer and pianist, was born in Dublin in 1782. He came from a musical family; his father was a violinist, and his grandfather was the organist at one of Dublin's churches. The latter provided him with his first music education. A few years later, when the family moved to London, Field became the favorite student of the renowned Clementi, whom he accompanied to Paris and later, in 1802, on his major concert tour through France, Germany, and Russia. Thanks to his mentor, Field performed publicly in most major European capitals, especially in St. Petersburg, where he remained when Clementi returned to England. During his time with the esteemed pianist, Field faced many hardships due to Clementi's extreme stinginess; however, when Clementi left Russia, his impressive connections among the elite in the capital became Field's legacy. His marriage to a French woman named Charpentier was anything but happy and was soon dissolved. Field frequently toured major cities in Russia and settled in Moscow permanently in 1820. In 1831, he returned briefly to England and spent the next four years traveling around France, Germany, and Italy, earning admiration wherever he performed. In Naples, he fell seriously ill and spent several months in the hospital until a Russian family found him and brought him back to Moscow. He lingered there for several years until his death on January 11, 1837. Field's training and the nature of his talent didn't lend themselves to excelling in larger forms of instrumental music, and his seven piano concertos are now forgotten. His string quartets and those for piano don’t hold up against those of the great masters either. However, his “nocturnes,” a musical form that he greatly developed if not created, remain unmatched for their tenderness and dreamy conception, combined with a continuous flow of beautiful melody. They indeed served as models for Chopin. Field's performance on the piano closely matched the nature of his compositions, with beauty and poetic charm of touch being key features of his style. Moscheles, who heard Field in 1831, remarked on his “enchanting legato, his tenderness and elegance, and his beautiful touch.”


FIELD, MARSHALL (1835-1906), American merchant, was born at Conway, Massachusetts, on the 18th of August 1835. Reared on a farm, he obtained a common school and academy education, and at the age of seventeen became a clerk in a dry goods store at Pittsfield, Mass. In 1856 he removed to Chicago, where he became a clerk in the large mercantile establishment of Cooley, Wadsworth & Company. In 1860 the firm was reorganized as Cooley, Farwell & Company, and he was admitted to a junior partnership. In 1865, with Potter Palmer (1826-1902) and Levi Z. Leiter (1834-1904), he organized the firm of Field, Palmer & Leiter, which subsequently became Field, Leiter & Company, and in 1881 on the retirement of Leiter became Marshall Field & Company. Under Field’s management the annual business of the firm increased from $12,000,000 in 1871 to more than $40,000,000 in 1895, when it ranked as one of the two or three largest mercantile establishments in the world. He died in New York city on the 16th of January 1906. He had married, for the second time, in the previous year. Field’s public benefactions were numerous; notable among them being his gift of land valued at $300,000 and of $100,000 in cash to the University of Chicago, an endowment fund of $1,000,000 to support the Field Columbian Museum at Chicago, and a bequest of $8,000,000 to this museum.

FIELD, MARSHALL (1835-1906), an American merchant, was born in Conway, Massachusetts, on August 18, 1835. Raised on a farm, he received a basic education and, at seventeen, became a clerk in a dry goods store in Pittsfield, Mass. In 1856, he moved to Chicago, where he worked as a clerk at the large retail company Cooley, Wadsworth & Company. In 1860, the firm was restructured as Cooley, Farwell & Company, and he became a junior partner. In 1865, together with Potter Palmer (1826-1902) and Levi Z. Leiter (1834-1904), he established the firm Field, Palmer & Leiter, which later became Field, Leiter & Company, and in 1881, following Leiter's retirement, it was renamed Marshall Field & Company. Under Field’s leadership, the company's annual revenue grew from $12,000,000 in 1871 to over $40,000,000 by 1895, making it one of the largest retail establishments in the world. He passed away in New York City on January 16, 1906. He had married for the second time the previous year. Field made numerous public donations, including a land gift valued at $300,000 and $100,000 in cash to the University of Chicago, a $1,000,000 endowment fund to support the Field Columbian Museum in Chicago, and a bequest of $8,000,000 to this museum.


FIELD, NATHAN (1587-1633), English dramatist and actor, was baptized on the 17th of October 1587. His father, the rector of Cripplegate, was a Puritan divine, author of a Godly Exhortation directed against play-acting, and his brother Theophilus became bishop of Hereford. Nat. Field early became one of the children of Queen Elizabeth’s chapel, and in that capacity he played leading parts in Ben Jonson’s Cynthia’s Revels (in 1600), in the Poetaster (in 1601), and in Epicoene (in 1608), and the title rôle in Chapman’s Bussy d’Ambois (in 1606). Ben Jonson was his dramatic model, and may have helped his career. The two plays of which he was author were probably both written before 1611. They are boisterous, but well-constructed comedies of contemporary London life; the earlier one, A Woman is a Weathercock (printed 1612), dealing with the inconstancy of woman, while the second, Amends for Ladies (printed 1618), was written with the intention, as the title indicates, of retracting the charge. From Henslowe’s papers it appears that Field collaborated with Robert Daborne and with Philip Massinger, one letter from all three authors being a joint appeal for money to free them from prison. In 1614 Field received £10 for playing before the king in Bartholomew Fair, a play in which Jonson records his reputation as an actor in the words “which is your Burbadge now?... Your best actor, your Field?” He joined the King’s Players some time before 1619, and his name comes seventeenth on the list prefixed to the Shakespeare folio of 1623 of the “principal actors in all these plays.” He retired from the stage before 1625, and died on the 20th of February 1633. Field was part author with Massinger in the Fatal Dowry (printed 1632), and he prefixed commendatory verses to Fletcher’s Faithful Shepherdess.

FIELD, NATHAN (1587-1633), English playwright and actor, was baptized on October 17, 1587. His father, the rector of Cripplegate, was a Puritan minister and wrote a Godly Exhortation against acting, and his brother Theophilus became the bishop of Hereford. Nat. Field began his career early as one of the children in Queen Elizabeth’s chapel, where he played major roles in Ben Jonson’s Cynthia’s Revels (in 1600), Poetaster (in 1601), and Epicoene (in 1608), as well as the title role in Chapman’s Bussy d’Ambois (in 1606). Ben Jonson was his main inspiration and may have helped boost his career. The two plays he wrote were likely finished before 1611. They are lively, yet well-crafted comedies reflecting contemporary London life; the first one, A Woman is a Weathercock (printed 1612), explores the fickleness of women, while the second, Amends for Ladies (printed 1618), was written to take back that accusation, as the title suggests. Henslowe’s records show that Field worked with Robert Daborne and Philip Massinger, as one letter from all three writers was a joint request for funds to secure their release from prison. In 1614, Field earned £10 for performing before the king in Bartholomew Fair, a play where Jonson highlights his reputation as an actor with the line “which is your Burbadge now?... Your best actor, your Field?” He joined the King’s Players sometime before 1619, and his name appears seventeenth on the list of the “principal actors in all these plays” in the Shakespeare folio of 1623. He retired from acting before 1625 and passed away on February 20, 1633. Field co-authored the Fatal Dowry (printed 1632) with Massinger and wrote commendatory verses for Fletcher’s Faithful Shepherdess.

His two plays were reprinted in J.P. Collier’s Five Old Plays (1833), in Hazlitt’s edition of Dodsley’s Old Plays, and in Nero and other Plays (Mermaid series, 1888), with an introduction by Mr A.W. Verity.

His two plays were reprinted in J.P. Collier’s Five Old Plays (1833), in Hazlitt’s edition of Dodsley’s Old Plays, and in Nero and other Plays (Mermaid series, 1888), with an introduction by Mr. A.W. Verity.


FIELD, STEPHEN JOHNSON (1816-1899), American jurist, was born at Haddam, Connecticut, on the 4th of November 1816. He was the brother of David Dudley Field, Cyrus W. 323 Field and Henry M. Field. At the age of thirteen he accompanied his sister Emilia and her husband the Rev. Josiah Brewer (the parents of the distinguished judge of the Supreme Court, David J. Brewer) to Smyrna, Turkey, for the purpose of studying Oriental languages, but after three years he returned to the United States, and in 1837 graduated at Williams College at the head of his class. He then studied law in his elder brother’s office, and in 1841 he was admitted to the New York bar. He was associated in practice there with his brother until 1848, and early in 1849 removed to California, settling soon afterward at Marysville, of which place, in 1850, he became the first alcalde or mayor. In the same year he was chosen a member of the first state legislature of California, in which he drew up and secured the enactment of two bodies of law known as the Civil and Criminal Practices Acts, based on the similar codes prepared by his brother David Dudley for New York. In the former act he embodied a provision regulating and giving authority to the peculiar customs, usages, and regulations voluntarily adopted by the miners in various districts of the state for the adjudication of disputed mining claims. This, as Judge Field truly says, “was the foundation of the jurisprudence respecting mines in the country,” having greatly influenced legislation upon this subject in other states and in the Congress of the United States. He was elected, in 1857, a justice of the California Supreme Court, of which he became chief justice in 1859, on the resignation of Judge David S. Terry to fight the duel with the United States senator David C. Broderick which ended fatally for the latter. Field held this position until 1863, when he was appointed by President Lincoln a justice of the United States Supreme Court. In this capacity he was conspicuous for fearless independence of thought and action in his opinion in the test oath case, and in his dissenting opinions in the legal tender, conscription and “slaughter house” cases, which displayed unusual legal learning, and gave powerful expression to his strict constructionist theory of the implied powers of the Federal constitution. Originally a Democrat, and always a believer in states’ rights, his strong Union sentiments caused him nevertheless to accept Lincoln’s doctrine of coercion, and that, together with his anti-slavery sympathies, led him to act with the Republican party during the period of the Civil War. He was a member of the commission which revised the California code in 1873 and of the Electoral Commission in 1877, voting in favour of Tilden. In 1880 he received sixty-five votes on the first ballot for the presidential nomination at the Democratic National Convention at Cincinnati. In August 1889, as a result of a ruling in the course of the Sharon-Hill litigation, a notorious conspiracy case, he was assaulted in a California railway station by Judge David S. Terry, who in turn was shot and killed by a United States deputy marshall appointed to defend Justice Field against the carrying out of Terry’s often-expressed threats. He retired from the Supreme Court on the 1st of December 1897 after a service of thirty-four years and six months, the longest in the court’s history, and died in Washington on the 9th of April 1899.

FIELD, STEPHEN JOHNSON (1816-1899), American jurist, was born in Haddam, Connecticut, on November 4, 1816. He was the brother of David Dudley Field, Cyrus W. Field, and Henry M. Field. At the age of thirteen, he went with his sister Emilia and her husband, Rev. Josiah Brewer (the parents of the noted Supreme Court judge, David J. Brewer), to Smyrna, Turkey, to study Oriental languages, but after three years he returned to the United States and graduated at the top of his class from Williams College in 1837. He then studied law in his older brother's office, and in 1841, he was admitted to the New York bar. He worked with his brother there until 1848, and in early 1849, he moved to California, soon settling in Marysville, where he became the first alcalde (mayor) in 1850. That same year, he was elected a member of California's first state legislature, where he drafted and secured the enactment of two laws called the Civil and Criminal Practices Acts, based on similar codes created by his brother David Dudley for New York. In the Civil Practices Act, he included a provision regulating and authorizing the unique customs, practices, and regulations adopted by miners in different areas of the state for resolving disputes over mining claims. This, as Judge Field noted, “was the foundation of the jurisprudence regarding mines in the country,” greatly influencing legislation on this issue in other states and in the U.S. Congress. He was elected a justice of the California Supreme Court in 1857 and became the chief justice in 1859, following Judge David S. Terry's resignation to duel U.S. Senator David C. Broderick, which ended fatally for Broderick. Field held this role until 1863, when President Lincoln appointed him as a justice of the United States Supreme Court. In this role, he was known for his fearless independence in his opinion on the test oath case and his dissenting opinions in the legal tender, conscription, and "slaughterhouse" cases, which showcased his significant legal knowledge and powerfully expressed his strict constructionist view of the implied powers of the Federal Constitution. Initially a Democrat, and a firm believer in states’ rights, his strong Union beliefs led him to accept Lincoln’s doctrine of coercion, and together with his anti-slavery views, this aligned him with the Republican party during the Civil War. He was part of the commission that revised the California code in 1873 and the Electoral Commission in 1877, where he voted in favor of Tilden. In 1880, he received sixty-five votes on the first ballot for the presidential nomination at the Democratic National Convention in Cincinnati. In August 1889, due to a ruling during the Sharon-Hill litigation, a well-known conspiracy case, he was attacked in a California railway station by Judge David S. Terry, who was then shot and killed by a U.S. deputy marshal appointed to protect Justice Field from Terry’s frequent threats. He retired from the Supreme Court on December 1, 1897, after serving thirty-four years and six months, the longest in the court's history, and died in Washington on April 9, 1899.

His Personal Reminiscences of Early Days in California, originally privately printed in 1878, was republished in 1893 with George C. Gorham’s Story of the Attempted Assassination of Justice Field.

His Personal Reminiscences of Early Days in California, first printed privately in 1878, was re-released in 1893 alongside George C. Gorham’s Story of the Attempted Assassination of Justice Field.


FIELD, WILLIAM VENTRIS FIELD, Baron (1813-1907), English judge, second son of Thomas Flint Field, of Fielden, Bedfordshire, was born on the 21st of August 1813. He was educated at King’s school, Bruton, Somersetshire, and entered the legal profession as a solicitor. In 1843, however, he ceased to practise as such, and entered at the Inner Temple, being called to the bar in 1850, after having practised for some time as a special pleader. He joined the Western circuit, but soon exchanged it for the Midland. He obtained a large business as a junior, and became a queen’s counsel and bencher of his inn in 1864. As a Q.C. he had a very extensive common law practice, and had for some time been the leader of the Midland circuit, when in February 1875, on the retirement of Mr Justice Keating, he was raised to the bench as a justice of the queen’s bench. Mr Justice Field was an excellent puisne judge of the type that attracts but little public attention. He was a first-rate lawyer, had a good knowledge of commercial matters, great shrewdness and a quick intellect, while he was also painstaking and scrupulously fair. When the rules of the Supreme Court 1883 came into force in the autumn of that year, Mr Justice Field was so well recognized an authority upon all questions of practice that the lord chancellor selected him to sit continuously at Judges’ Chambers, in order that a consistent practice under the new rules might as far as possible be established. This he did for nearly a year, and his name will always, to a large extent, be associated with the settling of the details of the new procedure, which finally did away with the former elaborate system of “special pleading.” In 1890 he retired from the bench and was raised to the peerage as Baron Field of Bakeham, becoming at the same time a member of the privy council. In the House of Lords he at first took part, not infrequently, in the hearing of appeals, and notably delivered a carefully-reasoned judgment in the case of the Bank of England v. Vagliano Brothers (5th of March 1891), in which, with Lord Bramwell, he differed from the majority of his brother peers. Before long, however, deafness and advancing years rendered his attendances less frequent. Lord Field died at Bognor on the 23rd of January 1907, and as he left no issue the peerage became extinct.

FIELD, WILLIAM VENTRIS FIELD, Baron (1813-1907), English judge, second son of Thomas Flint Field, of Fielden, Bedfordshire, was born on August 21, 1813. He was educated at King’s School, Bruton, Somersetshire, and began his career as a solicitor. In 1843, he stopped practicing as a solicitor and joined the Inner Temple, where he was called to the bar in 1850 after working for a time as a special pleader. He initially joined the Western circuit but soon switched to the Midland circuit. He built a significant practice as a junior and became a Queen's Counsel and bencher of his inn in 1864. As a Q.C., he had a very extensive common law practice and had been the leading barrister of the Midland circuit for some time when, in February 1875, following the retirement of Mr. Justice Keating, he was appointed as a justice of the Queen’s Bench. Mr. Justice Field was a highly capable puisne judge, the kind who generally doesn't attract much public attention. He was an outstanding lawyer with a strong grasp of commercial matters, great insight, and a quick intellect, and he was also diligent and meticulously fair. When the Supreme Court rules of 1883 came into effect in the fall of that year, Mr. Justice Field was recognized as an authority on all matters related to practice, which led the Lord Chancellor to appoint him to sit continuously at Judges’ Chambers to help establish consistent practices under the new rules. He held this position for nearly a year, and his name will always be associated with the development of the new procedures that ultimately replaced the old, complex system of “special pleading.” In 1890, he retired from the bench and was elevated to the peerage as Baron Field of Bakeham, while also becoming a member of the Privy Council. Initially, he participated regularly in the House of Lords during appeal hearings, notably delivering a well-reasoned judgment in the case of the Bank of England v. Vagliano Brothers (March 5, 1891), in which he disagreed with the majority of his fellow peers alongside Lord Bramwell. However, as time went on, his deafness and advancing age caused him to attend less frequently. Lord Field passed away in Bognor on January 23, 1907, and as he had no children, his peerage became extinct.


FIELD (a word common to many West German languages, cf. Ger. Feld, Dutch veld, possibly cognate with O.E. folde, the earth, and ultimately with root of the Gr. πλατός, broad), open country as opposed to woodland or to the town, and particularly land for cultivation divided up into separate portions by hedges, banks, stone walls, &c.; also used in combination with words denoting the crop grown on such a portion of land, such as corn-field, turnip-field, &c. The word is similarly applied to a region with particular reference to its products, as oil-field, gold-field, &c. For the “open” or “common field” system of agriculture in village communities see Commons. Generally with a reference to their “wild” as opposed to their “domestic” nature “field” is applied to many animals, such as the “field-mouse.” There are many applications of the word; thus from the use of the term for the place where a battle is fought, and widely of the whole theatre of war, come such phrases as to “take the field” for the opening of a campaign, “in the field” of troops that are engaged in the operations of a campaign. It is frequently used figuratively in this sense, of the subject matter of a controversy, and also appears in military usage, in field-fortification, field-day and the like. A “field-officer” is one who ranks above a captain and below a general (see Officers); a field marshal is the highest rank of general officer in the British and many European armies (see Marshal). “Field” is used in many games, partly with the idea of an enclosed space, partly with the idea of the ground of military operations, for the ground in which such games as cricket, football, baseball and the like are played. Hence it is applied to those players in cricket and baseball who are not “in,” and “to field” is to perform the functions of such a player—to stop or catch the ball played by the “in” side. “The field” is used in hunting, &c., for those taking part in the sport, and in racing for all the horses entered for a race, and, in such expressions as “to back the field,” is confined to all the horses with the exception of the “favourite.” A common application of the word is to a surface, more or less wide, as of the sky or sea, or of such physical phenomena as ice or snow, and particularly of the ground, of a special “tincture,” on which armorial bearings are displayed (see Heraldry); it is thus used also of the “ground” of a flag, thus the white ensign of the British navy has a red St George’s cross on a white “field.” In scientific usage the word is also used of the sphere of observation or of operations, and has come to be almost equivalent to a department of knowledge. In physics, a particular application is that to the area which is influenced by some agent, as in the magnetic or electric field. The field of observation or view is the area within which objects can be seen through any optical instrument at any one position. A “field-glass” is the name given to a binocular glass used in the field (see Binocular Instrument); the older form of field-glass was a small achromatic telescope with joints. This terms is also applied, in an astronomical telescope or compound microscope, to 324 that one of the two lenses of the “eye-piece” which is next to the object-glass; the other is called the “eye-glass.”

FIELD (a term used in many West Germanic languages, such as Ger. Feld, Dutch veld, potentially related to O.E. folde, meaning earth, and ultimately connected to the root of the Gr. wide, meaning broad), refers to open land as opposed to forests or urban areas, specifically land used for farming that is divided into sections by hedges, banks, stone walls, etc. It’s also combined with words indicating the type of crops grown on that land, such as corn-field, turnip-field, etc. The term is similarly applied to regions with a particular emphasis on their resources, like oil-field or gold-field. For information about the “open” or “common field” agricultural system in villages, see Commons. Generally, in reference to their “wild” as opposed to “domestic” nature, “field” is used for many animals, like the “field-mouse.” The word has many uses; for instance, its application in battle contexts brings phrases like “take the field” to mean starting a campaign and “in the field” to refer to troops involved in a campaign. It's often used figuratively to describe the subject matter of a debate and appears in military contexts, like field-fortification and field-day. A “field-officer” is someone who ranks above a captain but below a general (see Officers); a field marshal is the highest rank of general officer in the British and many European armies (see Marshal). “Field” is utilized in various games, partly suggesting an enclosed area and partly referring to the grounds of military operations, like cricket, football, baseball, etc. It's used for players in cricket and baseball who are not “in,” and “to field” means performing the role of such players—stopping or catching balls played by the “in” side. In hunting, “the field” refers to participants in the sport, and in racing, it denotes all the horses entered in a race. Expressions like “to back the field” include all horses except the “favorite.” A common use of the word also applies to surfaces, whether wide or narrow, like the sky or sea, or physical phenomena such as ice or snow, and especially to the ground of a specific “tincture” where armorial bearings are displayed (see Heraldry); the ground of a flag is similarly referred to, as in the white ensign of the British navy that features a red St George’s cross on a white “field.” In science, the term applies to areas of observation or operations, becoming almost synonymous with branches of knowledge. In physics, a specific use refers to areas influenced by certain agents, such as in magnetic or electric fields. The field of observation or view indicates the area within which objects can be seen through any optical instrument from a single position. A “field-glass” refers to binoculars used outdoors (see Binocular Instrument); the older type of field-glass was a compact achromatic telescope with joints. This term also refers, in an astronomical telescope or compound microscope, to 324 the lens in the “eye-piece” closest to the object-glass; the other lens is called the “eye-glass.”


FIELDFARE (O.E. fealo-for = fallow-farer), a large species of thrush, the Turdus pilaris of Linnaeus—well known as a regular and common autumnal visitor throughout the British Islands and a great part of Europe, besides western Asia, and even reaching northern Africa. It is the Veldjakker and Veld-lyster of the Dutch, the Wachholderdrossel and Kramtsvogel of Germans, the Litorne of the French, and the Cesena of Italians. This bird is of all thrushes the most gregarious in. habit, not only migrating in large bands and keeping in flocks during the winter, but even commonly breeding in society—200 nests or more having been seen within a very small space. The birch-forests of Norway, Sweden and Russia are its chief resorts in summer, but it is known also to breed sparingly in some districts of Germany. Though its nest has been many times reported to have been found in Scotland, there is perhaps no record of such an incident that is not open to doubt; and unquestionably the missel-thrush (T. viscivorus) has been often mistaken for the fieldfare by indifferent observers. The head, neck, upper part of the back and the rump are grey; the wings, wing-coverts and middle of the back are rich hazel-brown; the throat is ochraceous; and the breast reddish-brown—both being streaked or spotted with black, while the belly and lower wing-coverts are white, and the legs and toes very dark-brown. The nest and eggs resemble those of the blackbird (T. merula), but the former is usually built high up in a tree. The fieldfare’s call-note is harsh and loud, sounding like t’chatt’chat: its song is low, twittering and poor. It usually arrives in Britain about the middle or end of October, but sometimes earlier, and often remains till the middle of May before departing for its northern breeding-places. In hard weather it throngs to the berry-bearing bushes which then afford it sustenance, but in open winters the flocks spread over the fields in search of animal food—worms, slugs and the larvae of insects. In very severe seasons it will altogether leave the country, and then return for a shorter or longer time as spring approaches. From William of Palerne (translated from the French c. 1350) to the writers of our own day the fieldfare has occasionally been noticed by British poets with varying propriety. Thus Chaucer’s association Of its name with frost is as happy as true, while Scott was more than unlucky in his well-known reference to its “lowly nest” in the Highlands.

FIELDFARE (Old English fealo-for = fallow-farer), a large type of thrush, the Turdus pilaris described by Linnaeus—commonly recognized as a regular and prevalent autumn visitor across the British Isles and much of Europe, as well as western Asia, and even reaching northern Africa. It’s known as the Veldjakker and Veld-lyster in Dutch, the Wachholderdrossel and Kramtsvogel in German, the Litorne in French, and the Cesena in Italian. This bird is the most social among all thrushes, migrating in large groups and staying in flocks during winter, and often nesting socially—over 200 nests have been seen in a very small area. The birch forests of Norway, Sweden, and Russia are its main summer habitats, but it also breeds in limited areas of Germany. Although there have been many claims of its nest being found in Scotland, there is likely no verifiable record; the missel-thrush (T. viscivorus) is often misidentified as the fieldfare by casual observers. The head, neck, upper back, and rump are grey; the wings, wing-coverts, and middle back are rich hazel-brown; the throat is ochre; and the breast is reddish-brown—both streaked or spotted with black—while the belly and lower wing-coverts are white, and the legs and toes are very dark brown. The nest and eggs are similar to those of the blackbird (T. merula), but the former is typically built high in a tree. The fieldfare's call is harsh and loud, resembling t’chatt’chat: its song is low, twittering, and unimpressive. It generally arrives in Britain around mid to late October, but sometimes earlier, and often stays until mid-May before heading back to its northern breeding grounds. In harsh weather, it gathers in berry-laden bushes that provide food, but during mild winters, the flocks spread across fields searching for food like worms, slugs, and insect larvae. In extreme winters, it may fully leave the country, returning for a shorter or longer time as spring nears. From William of Palerne (translated from the French circa 1350) to modern writers, British poets have occasionally mentioned the fieldfare with varying accuracy. Chaucer's linking of its name with frost is both fitting and true, while Scott was quite unfortunate with his well-known mention of its “lowly nest” in the Highlands.

Structurally very like the fieldfare, but differing greatly in many other respects, is the bird known in North America as the “robin”—its ruddy breast and familiar habits reminding the early British settlers in the New World of the household favourite of their former homes. This bird, the Turdus migratorius of Linnaeus, has a wide geographical range, extending from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and from Greenland to Guatemala, and, except at its extreme limits, is almost everywhere a very abundant species. As its scientific name imports, it is essentially a migrant, and gathers in flocks to pass the winter in the south, though a few remain in New England throughout the year. Yet its social instincts point rather in the direction of man than of its own kind, and it is not known to breed in companies, while it affects the homesteads, villages and even the parks and gardens of the large cities, where its fine song, its attractive plumage, and its great services as a destroyer of noxious insects, combine to make it justly popular.

Structurally similar to the fieldfare but different in many other ways is the bird known as the "robin" in North America. Its reddish breast and familiar behaviors remind early British settlers in the New World of the household favorite from their old homes. This bird, the Turdus migratorius as labeled by Linnaeus, has a broad geographical range that extends from the Atlantic to the Pacific and from Greenland to Guatemala. Except at its farthest extremes, it is quite abundant almost everywhere. As its scientific name suggests, it is fundamentally migratory and gathers in flocks to migrate south for the winter, though some stay in New England year-round. Its social instincts lean more towards humans than its own kind, and it doesn't typically breed in groups. Instead, it prefers homesteads, villages, and even parks and gardens in large cities, where its beautiful song, attractive coloring, and significant role in controlling harmful insects help make it very popular.

(A. N.)

FIELDING, ANTHONY VANDYKE COPLEY (1787-1855), commonly called Copley Fielding, English landscape painter (son of a portrait painter), became at an early age a pupil of John Varley. He took to water-colour painting, and to this he confined himself almost exclusively. In 1810 he became an associate exhibitor in the Water-colour Society, in 1813 a full member, and in 1831 president of that body. He also engaged largely in teaching the art, and made ample profits. His death took place at Worthing in March 1855. Copley Fielding was a painter of much elegance, taste and accomplishment, and has always been highly popular with purchasers, without reaching very high in originality of purpose or of style: he painted in vast number all sorts of views (occasionally in oil-colour) including marine subjects in large proportion. Specimens of his work are to be seen in the water-colour gallery of the Victoria and Albert Museum, of dates ranging from 1829 to 1850. Among the engraved specimens of his art is the Annual of British Landscape Scenery, published in 1839.

FIELDING, ANTHONY VANDYKE COPLEY (1787-1855), commonly known as Copley Fielding, was an English landscape painter (son of a portrait artist) who became a student of John Varley at a young age. He focused almost exclusively on watercolour painting. In 1810, he became an associate exhibitor in the Water-colour Society, became a full member in 1813, and was named president of the organization in 1831. He also taught the art extensively, making considerable profits. He passed away in Worthing in March 1855. Copley Fielding was a painter of great elegance, taste, and skill, and he was consistently popular among buyers, though he didn’t reach high levels of originality in purpose or style. He produced a large number of paintings of various views (occasionally in oil), including many marine subjects. Examples of his work can be seen in the water-colour gallery of the Victoria and Albert Museum, dating from 1829 to 1850. Among the published engravings of his art is the Annual of British Landscape Scenery, released in 1839.

(W. M. R.)

FIELDING, HENRY (1707-1754), English novelist and playwright, was born at Sharpham Park, near Glastonbury, Somerset, on the 22nd of April 1707. His father was Lieutenant Edmund Fielding, third son of John Fielding, who was canon of Salisbury and fifth son of the earl of Desmond. The earl of Desmond belonged to the younger branch of the Denbigh family, who, until lately, were supposed to be connected with the Habsburgs. To this claim, now discredited by the researches of Mr J. Horace Round (Studies in Peerage, 1901, pp. 216-249), is to be attributed the famous passage in Gibbon’s Autobiography which predicts for Tom Jones—“that exquisite picture of human manners”—a diuturnity exceeding that of the house of Austria. Henry Fielding’s mother was Sarah Gould, daughter of Sir Henry Gould, a judge of the king’s bench. It is probable that the marriage was not approved by her father, since, though she remained at Sharpham Park for some time after that event, his will provided that her husband should have nothing to do with a legacy of £3000 left her in 1710. About this date the Fieldings moved to East Stour in Dorset. Two girls, Catherine and Ursula, had apparently been born at Sharpham Park; and three more, together with a son, Edmund, followed at East Stour. Sarah, the third of the daughters, born November 1710, and afterwards the author of David Simple and other works, survived her brother.

FIELDING, HENRY (1707-1754), English novelist and playwright, was born at Sharpham Park, near Glastonbury, Somerset, on April 22, 1707. His father was Lieutenant Edmund Fielding, the third son of John Fielding, who was a canon of Salisbury and the fifth son of the Earl of Desmond. The Earl of Desmond was part of the younger branch of the Denbigh family, who, until recently, were thought to be connected to the Habsburgs. This now-discredited claim, investigated by Mr. J. Horace Round (Studies in Peerage, 1901, pp. 216-249), is what led Gibbon to famously predict in his Autobiography that Tom Jones—“that exquisite picture of human manners”—would last longer than the House of Austria. Henry Fielding's mother was Sarah Gould, the daughter of Sir Henry Gould, a judge of the King’s Bench. It’s likely that her father didn’t approve of the marriage, as even though she stayed at Sharpham Park for a while afterward, his will stated that her husband should have nothing to do with a £3000 legacy left to her in 1710. Around this time, the Fieldings moved to East Stour in Dorset. Two daughters, Catherine and Ursula, were apparently born at Sharpham Park, and three more children, including a son named Edmund, were born at East Stour. Sarah, the third daughter, born in November 1710 and later the author of David Simple and other works, outlived her brother.

Fielding’s education up to his mother’s death, which took place in April 1718 at East Stour, seems to have been entrusted to a neighbouring clergyman, Mr Oliver of Motcombe, in whom tradition traces the uncouth lineaments of “Parson Trulliber” in Joseph Andrews. But he must have contrived, nevertheless, to prepare his pupil for Eton, to which place Fielding went about this date, probably as an oppidan. Little is known of his schooldays. There is no record of his name in the college lists; but, if we may believe his first biographer, Arthur Murphy, by no means an unimpeachable authority, he left “uncommonly versed in the Greek authors, and an early master of the Latin classics,”—a statement which should perhaps be qualified by his own words to Sir Robert Walpole in 1730:—

Fielding’s education up until his mother’s death in April 1718 at East Stour seems to have been overseen by a local clergyman, Mr. Oliver of Motcombe, who tradition associates with the awkward features of “Parson Trulliber” in Joseph Andrews. However, he must have managed to prepare his student for Eton, where Fielding likely went around this time, probably as a day student. Little is known about his time at school. There’s no record of his name in the college lists; however, if we can believe his first biographer, Arthur Murphy—who isn’t a completely reliable source—he left “uncommonly well-versed in Greek authors and an early master of Latin classics”—a claim that should perhaps be clarified by his own words to Sir Robert Walpole in 1730:—

“Tuscan and French are in my head;

“Tuscan and French are in my head;

Latin I write, and Greek—I read.”

Latin I write, and Greek—I read.

But he certainly made friends among his class-fellows—some of whom continued friends for life. Winnington and Hanbury-Williams were among these. The chief, however, and the most faithful, was George, afterwards Sir George, and later Baron Lyttelton of Frankley.

But he definitely made friends among his classmates—some of whom remained friends for life. Winnington and Hanbury-Williams were among them. The closest and most loyal of all was George, later known as Sir George, and eventually Baron Lyttelton of Frankley.

When Fielding left Eton is unknown. But in November 1725 we hear of him definitely in what seems like a characteristic escapade. He was staying at Lyme (in company with a trusty retainer, ready to “beat, maim or kill” in his young master’s behalf), and apparently bent on carrying off, if necessary by force, a local heiress, Miss Sarah Andrew, whose fluttered guardians promptly hurried her away, and married her to some one else (Athenaeum, 2nd June 1883). Her baffled admirer consoled himself by translating part of Juvenal’s sixth satire into verse as “all the Revenge taken by an injured Lover.” After this he must have lived the usual life of a young man about town, and probably at this date improved the acquaintance of his second cousin, Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, to whom he inscribed his first comedy, Love in Several Masques, produced at Drury Lane in February 1728. The moment was not particularly favourable, since it succeeded Cibber’s Provok’d Husband, and was contemporary with Gay’s popular Beggar’s Opera. Almost immediately afterwards (March 16th) Fielding entered himself as “Stud. Lit.” at Leiden University. He was still there in February 1729. But he had apparently left before the annual registration of February 1730, when his name is absent from the books (Macmillan’s Magazine, April 1907); and in January 1730 he brought out a second comedy at the newly-opened theatre in Goodman’s Fields. Like its predecessor, the Temple 325 Beau was an essay in the vein of Congreve and Wycherley, though, in a measure, an advance on Love in Several Masques.

When Fielding left Eton isn't known. But in November 1725, we definitely hear about him in what seems to be a typical adventure. He was staying in Lyme (with a loyal servant, ready to “beat, maim or kill” on his young master’s behalf) and apparently aimed to carry off a local heiress, Miss Sarah Andrew, possibly by force. Her flustered guardians quickly took her away and married her off to someone else (Athenaeum, June 2, 1883). The rejected admirer kept himself busy by translating part of Juvenal’s sixth satire into verse as “all the Revenge taken by an injured Lover.” After this, he likely lived the typical life of a young man in the city and probably got to know his second cousin, Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, better. He dedicated his first comedy, Love in Several Masques, which premiered at Drury Lane in February 1728, to her. The timing wasn’t great since it followed Cibber’s Provok’d Husband and was around the same time as Gay’s popular Beggar’s Opera. Almost immediately afterward (March 16), Fielding registered as “Stud. Lit.” at Leiden University. He was still there in February 1729 but had apparently left before the annual registration in February 1730, as his name is missing from the records (Macmillan’s Magazine, April 1907). In January 1730, he released a second comedy at the newly opened theatre in Goodman’s Fields. Like its predecessor, Beau was an attempt in the style of Congreve and Wycherley, although it was somewhat of an improvement on Love in Several Masques.

With the Temple Beau Fielding’s dramatic career definitely begins. His father had married again; and his Leiden career had been interrupted for lack of funds. Nominally, he was entitled to an allowance of £200 a year; but this (he was accustomed to say) “any body might pay that would.” Young, handsome, ardent and fond of pleasure, he began that career as a hand-to-mouth playwright around which so much legend has gathered—and gathers. Having—in his own words—no choice but to be a hackney coachman or a hackney writer, he chose the pen; and his inclinations, as well as his opportunities, led him to the stage. From 1730 to 1736 he rapidly brought out a large number of pieces, most of which had merit enough to secure their being acted, but not sufficient to earn a lasting reputation for their author. His chief successes, from a critical point of view, the Author’s Farce (1730) and Tom Thumb (1730, 1731), were burlesques; and he also was fortunate in two translations from Molière, the Mock Doctor (1732) and the Miser (1733). Of the rest (with one or two exceptions, to be mentioned presently) the names need only be recorded. They are The Coffee-House Politician, a comedy (1730); The Letter Writers, a farce (1731); The Grub-Street Opera, a burlesque (1731); The Lottery, a farce (1732); The Modern Husband, a comedy (1732); The Covent Garden Tragedy, a burlesque (1732); The Old Debauchees, a comedy (1732); Deborah; or, a Wife for you all, an after-piece (1733); The Intriguing Chambermaid (from Regnard), a two-act comedy (1734); and Don Quixote in England, a comedy, which had been partly sketched at Leiden.

With the Temple Beau, Fielding’s dramatic career definitely begins. His father had remarried, and his time at Leiden had been interrupted due to a lack of funds. Technically, he was entitled to an annual allowance of £200, but he often said, “anybody could pay that who wanted to.” Young, attractive, passionate, and fond of enjoyment, he kicked off his career as a struggling playwright, around which so much legend has grown—and continues to grow. Having—by his own account—no choice but to be a hackney coachman or a hackney writer, he chose writing; and both his interests and the opportunities available to him pushed him toward the stage. From 1730 to 1736, he quickly produced a large number of works, most of which had enough quality to be performed but not enough to give their author lasting fame. His main successes, from a critical standpoint, were the Author’s Farce (1730) and Tom Thumb (1730, 1731), both of which were burlesques. He was also fortunate to translate two works by Molière, the Mock Doctor (1732) and the Miser (1733). As for the rest (with a couple of exceptions that will be mentioned shortly), their titles only need to be listed. They are The Coffee-House Politician, a comedy (1730); The Letter Writers, a farce (1731); The Grub-Street Opera, a burlesque (1731); The Lottery, a farce (1732); The Modern Husband, a comedy (1732); The Covent Garden Tragedy, a burlesque (1732); The Old Debauchees, a comedy (1732); Deborah; or, a Wife for you all, an after-piece (1733); The Intriguing Chambermaid (from Regnard), a two-act comedy (1734); and Don Quixote in England, a comedy, which had been partially sketched at Leiden.

Don Quixote was produced in 1734, and the list of plays may be here interrupted by an event of which the date has only recently been ascertained, namely, Fielding’s first marriage. This took place on the 28th of November 1734 at St Mary, Charlcornbe, near Bath (Macmillan’s Magazine, April 1907), the lady being a Salisbury beauty, Miss Charlotte Cradock, of whom he had been an admirer, if not a suitor, as far back as 1730. This is a fact which should be taken into consideration in estimating the exact Bohemianism of his London life, for there is no doubt that he was devotedly attached to her. After a fresh farce entitled An Old Man taught Wisdom, and the comparative failure of a new comedy, The Universal Gallant, both produced early in 1735, he seems for a time to have retired with his bride, who came into £1500, to his old home at East Stour. Around this rural seclusion fiction has freely accreted. He is supposed to have lived for three years on the footing of a typical 18th-century country gentleman; to have kept a pack of hounds; to have put his servants into impossible yellow liveries; and generally, by profuse hospitality and reckless expenditure, to have made rapid duck and drake of Mrs Fielding’s modest legacy. Something of this is demonstrably false; much, grossly exaggerated. In any case, he was in London as late as February 1735 (the date of the “Preface” to The Universal Gallant); and early in March 1736 he was back again managing the Haymarket theatre with a so-called “Great Mogul’s Company of English Comedians.”

Don Quixote was published in 1734, and the list of plays may be interrupted by an event that has only recently been confirmed: Fielding's first marriage. This happened on November 28, 1734, at St Mary, Charlcornbe, near Bath (Macmillan’s Magazine, April 1907). The bride was a beauty from Salisbury, Miss Charlotte Cradock, whom he had admired, if not pursued, since 1730. This fact should be considered when evaluating the true Bohemian aspects of his life in London, as he was undoubtedly devoted to her. After a new farce called An Old Man Taught Wisdom and the less successful comedy The Universal Gallant, both produced in early 1735, he seems to have retreated for a time with his wife, who inherited £1500, to his old home in East Stour. Much fiction has grown around this rural retreat. He is thought to have lived for three years as a typical 18th-century country gentleman, keeping a pack of hounds, dressing his servants in outrageous yellow uniforms, and, through extravagant hospitality and reckless spending, quickly depleting Mrs. Fielding’s modest inheritance. Some of this is clearly false; much is greatly exaggerated. In any case, he was in London as late as February 1735 (the date of the “Preface” to The Universal Gallant); and by early March 1736, he was back managing the Haymarket theatre with a so-called “Great Mogul’s Company of English Comedians.”

Upon this new enterprise fortune, at the outset, seemed to smile. The first piece (produced on the 5th of March) was Pasquin, a Dramatick Satire on the Times (a piece akin in its plan to Buckingham’s Rehearsal), which contained, in addition to much admirable burlesque, a good deal of very direct criticism of the shameless political corruption of the Walpole era. Its success was unmistakable; and when, after bringing out the remarkable Fatal Curiosity of George Lillo, its author followed up Pasquin by the Historical Register for the Year 1736, of which the effrontery was even more daring than that of its predecessor, the ministry began to bethink themselves that matters were going too far. How they actually effected their object is obscure: but grounds were speedily concocted for the Licensing Act of 1737, which restricted the number of theatres, rendered the lord chamberlain’s licence an indispensable preliminary to stage representation, and—in a word—effectually put an end to Fielding’s career as a dramatist.

At the start of this new venture, luck seemed to smile. The first production (released on March 5) was Pasquin, a Dramatick Satire on the Times (similar in concept to Buckingham’s Rehearsal), which, besides featuring some impressive satire, included a lot of straightforward criticism of the rampant political corruption during the Walpole era. Its success was clear; and after presenting the impressive Fatal Curiosity by George Lillo, its author followed Pasquin with the Historical Register for the Year 1736, which was even bolder than its predecessor. The government started to realize that things were getting out of hand. How they actually achieved their objective is unclear: however, reasons were quickly fabricated for the Licensing Act of 1737, which limited the number of theaters, made the lord chamberlain’s license a necessary step for stage performances, and—essentially—brought an end to Fielding’s career as a playwright.

Whether, had that career been prolonged to its maturity, the result would have enriched the theatrical repertoire with a new species of burlesque, or reinforced it with fresh variations on the “wit-traps” of Wycherley and Congreve, is one of those inquiries that are more academic than, profitable. What may be affirmed is, that Fielding’s plays, as we have them, exhibit abundant invention and ingenuity; that they are full of humour and high spirits; that, though they may have been hastily written, they were by no means thoughtlessly constructed; and that, in composing them, their author attentively considered either managerial hints, or the conditions of the market. Against this, one must set the fact that they are often immodest; and that, whatever their intrinsic merit, they have failed to rival in permanent popularity the work of inferior men. Fielding’s own conclusion was, “that he left off writing for the stage, when he ought to have begun”—which can only mean that he himself regarded his plays as the outcome of imitation rather than experience. They probably taught him how to construct Tom Jones; but whether he could ever have written a comedy at the level of that novel, can only be established by a comparison which it is impossible to make, namely, a comparison with Tom Jones of a comedy written at the same age, and in similar circumstances.

Whether that career, had it continued to develop, would have added a new type of burlesque to the theater scene or enhanced it with new takes on the "wit-traps" of Wycherley and Congreve is more of an academic question than a fruitful one. What can be said is that Fielding’s plays, as we have them, show plenty of creativity and cleverness; they are full of humor and high spirits; and although they might have been written quickly, they were definitely not thoughtless in their construction. The author kept in mind either management suggestions or market conditions while writing them. However, it's important to note that they are often inappropriate, and despite their quality, they haven't achieved the lasting popularity of works by lesser writers. Fielding himself concluded, “that he left off writing for the stage, when he ought to have begun”—which suggests he viewed his plays as products of imitation rather than personal experience. They likely helped him learn how to craft Tom Jones; but whether he could have ever written a comedy that matches the level of that novel can only be determined through a comparison that's impossible to make, namely, comparing Tom Jones to a comedy written at the same age and under similar circumstances.

Tumble-Down Dick; or, Phaeton in the Suds, Eurydice and Eurydice hissed are the names of three occasional pieces which belong to the last months of Fielding’s career as a Haymarket manager. By this date he was thirty, with a wife and daughter. As a means of support, he reverted to the profession of his maternal grandfather; and, in November 1737, he entered the Middle Temple, being described in the books of the society as “of East Stour in Dorset.” That he set himself strenuously to master his new profession, is admitted; though it is unlikely that he had entirely discarded the irregular habits which had grown upon him in his irresponsible bachelorhood. He also did a good deal of literary work, the best known of which is contained in the Champion, a “News-Journal” of the Spectator type undertaken with James Ralph, whose poem of “Night” is made notorious in the Dunciad. That the Champion was not without merit is undoubted; but the essay-type was for the moment out-worn, and neither Fielding nor his coadjutor could lend it fresh vitality. Fielding contributed papers from the 15th of November 1739 to the 19th of June 1740. On the 20th of June he was called to the bar, and occupied chambers in Pump Court. It is further related that, in the diligent pursuit of his calling, he travelled the Western Circuit, and attended the Wiltshire sessions.

Tumble-Down Dick; or, Phaeton in the Suds, Eurydice, and Eurydice hissed are the titles of three occasional works from the final months of Fielding's time as a Haymarket manager. By then, he was thirty, with a wife and daughter. To support himself, he returned to the profession of his maternal grandfather, and in November 1737, he joined the Middle Temple, being listed in the society's records as “of East Stour in Dorset.” It's acknowledged that he worked hard to master his new profession, though it's unlikely he fully let go of the irregular habits he had developed during his carefree bachelor days. He also did quite a bit of writing, the most notable of which appeared in the Champion, a "News-Journal" similar to the Spectator, created with James Ralph, whose poem “Night” gained infamy in the Dunciad. While the Champion had its merits, the essay format was somewhat outdated at the time, and neither Fielding nor his partner could revitalize it. Fielding wrote articles from November 15, 1739, to June 19, 1740. On June 20, he was called to the bar and took chambers in Pump Court. Additionally, it’s noted that in his diligent practice, he traveled the Western Circuit and attended the Wiltshire sessions.

Although, with the Champion, he professed, for the time, to have relinquished periodical literature, he still wrote at intervals, a fact which, taken in connexion with his past reputation as an effective satirist, probably led to his being “unjustly censured” for much that he never produced. But he certainly wrote a poem “Of True Greatness” (1741); a first book of a burlesque epic, the Vernoniad, prompted by Vernon’s expedition of 1739; a vision called the Opposition, and, perhaps, a political sermon entitled the Crisis (1741). Another piece, now known to have been attributed to him by his contemporaries (Hist. MSS. Comm., Rept. 12, App. Pt. ix., p. 204), is the pamphlet entitled An Apology for the Life of Mrs Shamela Andrews, a clever but coarse attack upon the prurient side of Richardson’s Pamela, which had been issued in 1740, and was at the height of its popularity. Shamela followed early in 1741. Richardson, who was well acquainted with Fielding’s four sisters, at that date his neighbours at Hammersmith, confidently attributed it to Fielding (Corr. 1804, iv. 286, and unpublished letter at South Kensington); and there are suggestive points of internal evidence (such as the transformation of Pamela’s “MR B.” into “Mr Booby”) which tend to connect it with the future Joseph Andrews. Fielding, however, never acknowledged it, or referred to it; and a great deal has been laid to his charge that he never deserved (“Preface” to Miscellanies, 1743).

Although he claimed, with the Champion, to have given up writing periodical literature for the time being, he still composed pieces occasionally. This, combined with his past reputation as an effective satirist, likely led to his being “wrongly criticized” for much that he never actually produced. However, he definitely wrote a poem titled “Of True Greatness” (1741); the first book of a burlesque epic called the Vernoniad, inspired by Vernon’s expedition of 1739; a vision called the Opposition; and possibly a political sermon named the Crisis (1741). Another work, now known to have been linked to him by his contemporaries (Hist. MSS. Comm., Rept. 12, App. Pt. ix., p. 204), is the pamphlet titled An Apology for the Life of Mrs Shamela Andrews, a witty yet crude attack on the scandalous aspects of Richardson’s Pamela, which was published in 1740 and was very popular at the time. Shamela followed soon in early 1741. Richardson, who was well-acquainted with Fielding’s four sisters, who were his neighbors in Hammersmith at that time, confidently claimed it was Fielding’s work (Corr. 1804, iv. 286, and unpublished letter at South Kensington); and there are suggestive elements within it (like the change of Pamela’s “MR B.” to “Mr Booby”) that hint at a connection to the later Joseph Andrews. Nevertheless, Fielding never acknowledged it or mentioned it; and much has been unfairly attributed to him (“Preface” to Miscellanies, 1743).

But whatever may be decided in regard to the authorship of Shamela, it is quite possible that it prompted the more memorable 326 Joseph Andrews, which made its appearance in February 1742, and concerning which there is no question. Professing, on his title-page, to imitate Cervantes, Fielding set out to cover Pamela with Homeric ridicule by transferring the heroine’s embarrassments to a hero, supposed to be her brother. Allied to this purpose was a collateral attack upon the slipshod Apology of the playwright Colley Cibber, with whom, for obscure reasons, Fielding had long been at war. But the avowed object of the book fell speedily into the background as its author warmed to his theme. His secondary speedily became his primary characters, and Lady Booby and Joseph Andrews do not interest us now as much as Mrs Slipslop and Parson Adams—the latter an invention that ranges in literature with Sterne’s “Uncle Toby” and Goldsmith’s “Vicar.” Yet more than these and others equally admirable in their round veracity, is the writer’s penetrating outlook upon the frailties and failures of human nature. By the time he had reached his second volume, he had convinced himself that he had inaugurated a new fashion of fiction; and in a “Preface” of exceptional ability, he announced his discovery. Postulating that the epic might be “comic” or “tragic,” prose or verse, he claimed to have achieved what he termed the “Comic Epos in Prose,” of which the action was “ludicrous” rather than “sublime,” and the personages selected from society at large, rather than the restricted ranks of conventional high life. His plan, it will be observed, was happily adapted to his gifts of humour, satire, and above all, irony. That it was matured when it began may perhaps be doubted, but it was certainly matured when it ended. Indeed, except for the plot, which, in his picaresque first idea, had not preceded the conception, Joseph Andrews has all the characteristics of Tom Jones, even (in part) to the initial chapters.

But no matter what is decided about the authorship of Shamela, it’s quite possible that it inspired the more memorable Joseph Andrews, which was published in February 1742, and there’s no doubt about that. Claiming on its title page to imitate Cervantes, Fielding aimed to cover Pamela with Homeric mockery by shifting the heroine’s troubles to a hero, who is supposedly her brother. Alongside this goal was a secondary attack on the careless Apology of playwright Colley Cibber, with whom, for unclear reasons, Fielding had long been at odds. However, the stated purpose of the book quickly faded into the background as the author became more engaged with his topic. His secondary characters rapidly became his primary focus, and Lady Booby and Joseph Andrews now interest us less than Mrs. Slipslop and Parson Adams—who ranks alongside Sterne’s “Uncle Toby” and Goldsmith’s “Vicar.” Yet more than these and others equally remarkable in their rounded authenticity, is the writer’s keen insight into the weaknesses and failures of human nature. By the time he reached his second volume, he had convinced himself that he had started a new trend in fiction; and in a “Preface” of exceptional skill, he proclaimed his discovery. He suggested that the epic could be “comic” or “tragic,” prose or verse, and claimed to have created what he called the “Comic Epos in Prose,” where the action is “ludicrous” rather than “sublime,” and the characters come from society at large, rather than just the upper echelons of conventional high life. His plan was, as you can see, well-suited to his talents for humor, satire, and especially, irony. It might be doubted that it was fully developed when it began, but it was certainly mature by the end. In fact, aside from the plot, which, in his initial picaresque idea, didn’t precede the conception, Joseph Andrews shares all the characteristics of Tom Jones, even (in part) in the early chapters.

Joseph Andrews had considerable success, and the exact sum paid for it by Andrew Millar, the publisher, according to the assignment now at South Kensington, was £183:11s., one of the witnesses being the author’s friend, William Young, popularly supposed to be the original of Parson Adams. It was with Young that Fielding undertook what, with exception of “a very small share” in the farce of Miss Lucy in Town (1742), constituted his next work, a translation of the Plutus of Aristophanes, which never seems to have justified any similar experiments. Another of his minor works was a Vindication of the Dowager Duchess of Marlborough (1742), then much before the public by reason of the Account of her Life which she had recently put forth. Later in the same year, Garrick applied to Fielding for a play; and a very early effort, The Wedding Day, was hastily patched together, and produced at Drury Lane in February 1743 with no great success. It was, however, included in Fielding’s next important publication, the three volumes of Miscellanies issued by subscription in the succeeding April. These also comprised some early poems, some essays, a Lucianic fragment entitled a Journey from this World to the Next, and, last but not least, occupying the entire final volume, the remarkable performance entitled the History of the Life of the late Mr Jonathan Wild the Great.

Joseph Andrews was quite successful, and the exact amount paid for it by Andrew Millar, the publisher, according to the assignment currently at South Kensington, was £183:11s., with one of the witnesses being the author’s friend, William Young, who is widely believed to be the inspiration for Parson Adams. It was with Young that Fielding began what, except for “a very small share” in the farce Miss Lucy in Town (1742), became his next work, a translation of Aristophanes’ Plutus, which never seems to have led to similar projects. Another of his lesser works was a Vindication of the Dowager Duchess of Marlborough (1742), which was in the public eye due to the Account of her Life that she had recently published. Later that same year, Garrick reached out to Fielding for a play; and a very early work, The Wedding Day, was quickly pieced together and performed at Drury Lane in February 1743, though it didn’t achieve much success. However, it was included in Fielding’s next significant publication, the three volumes of Miscellanies released by subscription in the following April. These also contained some early poems, essays, a Lucianic fragment titled Journey from this World to the Next, and, last but not least, taking up the entire final volume, the remarkable work titled History of the Life of the late Mr Jonathan Wild the Great.

It is probable that, in its composition, Jonathan Wild preceded Joseph Andrews. At all events it seems unlikely that Fielding would have followed up a success in a new line by an effort so entirely different in character. Taking for his ostensible hero a well-known thief-taker, who had been hanged in 1725, he proceeds to illustrate, by a mock-heroic account of his progress to Tyburn, the general proposition that greatness without goodness is no better than badness. He will not go so far as to say that all “Human Nature is Newgate with the Mask on”; but he evidently regards the description as fairly applicable to a good many so-called great people. Irony (and especially Irony neat) is not a popular form of rhetoric; and the remorseless pertinacity with which Fielding pursues his demonstration is to many readers discomforting and even distasteful. Yet—in spite of Scott—Jonathan Wild has its softer pages; and as a purely intellectual conception it is not surpassed by any of the author’s works.

It’s likely that, in its creation, Jonathan Wild came before Joseph Andrews. In any case, it seems improbable that Fielding would have followed up a success in a new direction with something so completely different. He chooses as his main character a famous thief-taker who was hanged in 1725 and uses a mock-heroic narrative of his journey to Tyburn to illustrate the idea that greatness without goodness is no better than badness. He doesn’t go as far as to claim that all “Human Nature is Newgate with the Mask on”; however, he clearly thinks this description fits quite a few so-called great people. Irony (especially neat irony) isn’t a popular style of rhetoric, and the relentless way Fielding continues to make his point can be uncomfortable and even off-putting for many readers. Still—despite Scott—Jonathan Wild has its gentler moments, and as a purely intellectual idea, it’s unmatched by any of the author’s other works.

His actual biography, both before and after Jonathan Wild, is obscure. There are evidences that he laboured diligently at his profession; there are also evidences of sickness and embarrassment. He had become early a martyr to the malady of his century—gout, and the uncertainties of a precarious livelihood told grievously upon his beautiful wife, who eventually died of fever in his arms, leaving him for the time so stunned and bewildered by grief that his friends feared for his reason. For some years his published productions were unimportant. He wrote “Prefaces” to the David Simple of his sister Sarah in 1744 and 1747; and, in 1745-1746 and 1747-1748, produced two newspapers in the ministerial interest, the True Patriot and the Jacobite’s Journal, both of which are connected with, or derive from, the rebellion of 1745, and were doubtless, when they ceased, the pretext of a pension from the public service money (Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon, “Introduction”). In November 1747 he married his wife’s maid, Mary Daniel, at St Bene’t’s, Paul’s Wharf; and in December 1748, by the interest of his old school-fellow, Lyttelton, he was made a principal justice of peace for Middlesex and Westminster, an office which put him in possession of a house in Bow Street, and £300 per annum “of the dirtiest money upon earth” (ibid.), which might have been more had he condescended to become what was known as a “trading” magistrate.

His actual biography, both before and after Jonathan Wild, is unclear. There’s evidence that he worked hard at his profession; there are also signs of illness and struggle. He became an early victim of the disease of his time—gout—and the uncertainties of making a living took a heavy toll on his beautiful wife, who eventually died of fever in his arms, leaving him so stunned and confused by grief that his friends worried about his mental state. For several years, his published works were insignificant. He wrote “Prefaces” for his sister Sarah's David Simple in 1744 and 1747; and between 1745-1746 and 1747-1748, he produced two newspapers supporting the government, the True Patriot and the Jacobite’s Journal, both of which were linked to or stemmed from the 1745 rebellion, and were probably, when they ended, a reason for him to receive a pension from public funds (Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon, “Introduction”). In November 1747, he married his wife’s maid, Mary Daniel, at St Bene’t’s, Paul’s Wharf; and in December 1748, through the influence of his old schoolmate, Lyttelton, he was appointed a principal justice of the peace for Middlesex and Westminster, a position that gave him a house on Bow Street and £300 a year “of the dirtiest money upon earth” (ibid.), which could have been more if he had agreed to become what was known as a “trading” magistrate.

For some time previously, while at Bath, Salisbury, Twickenham and other temporary resting-places, he had intermittently occupied himself in composing his second great novel, Tom Jones; or, the History of a Foundling. For this, in June 1748, Millar had paid him £600, to which he added £100 more in 1749. In the February of the latter year it was published with a dedication to Lyttelton, to whose pecuniary assistance to the author during the composition it plainly bears witness. In Tom Jones Fielding systematically developed the “new Province of Writing” he had discovered incidentally in Joseph Andrews. He paid closer attention to the construction and evolution of the plot; he elaborated the initial essays to each book which he had partly employed before, and he compressed into his work the flower and fruit of his forty years’ experience of life. He has, indeed, no character quite up to the level of Parson Adams, but his Westerns and Partridges, his Allworthys and Blifils, have the inestimable gift of life. He makes no pretence to produce “models of perfection,” but pictures of ordinary humanity, rather perhaps in the rough than the polished, the natural than the artificial, and his desire is to do this with absolute truthfulness, neither extenuating nor disguising defects and shortcomings. One of the results of this unvarnished naturalism has been to attract more attention to certain of the episodes than their inventor ever intended. But that, in the manners of his time, he had chapter and verse for everything he drew is clear. His sincere purpose was, he declared, “to recommend goodness and innocence,” and his obvious aversions are vanity and hypocrisy. The methods of fiction have grown more sophisticated since his day, and other forms of literary egotism have taken the place of his once famous introductory essays, but the traces of Tom Jones are still discernible in most of our manlier modern fiction.

For some time before, while staying in Bath, Salisbury, Twickenham, and other temporary places, he had been intermittently working on his second major novel, Tom Jones; or, the History of a Foundling. In June 1748, Millar paid him £600 for it, and added another £100 in 1749. In February of that year, it was published with a dedication to Lyttelton, who had financially supported the author during its writing. In Tom Jones, Fielding systematically developed the “new Province of Writing” he had discovered by chance in Joseph Andrews. He focused more on the construction and evolution of the plot; he expanded the initial essays at the beginning of each book that he had used before, and he compressed into his work the best insights from his forty years of life experience. He doesn’t have a character quite as great as Parson Adams, but his Westerns and Partridges, his Allworthys and Blifils, have the priceless quality of life. He makes no claims to create “models of perfection,” but rather sketches images of ordinary humanity, perhaps rougher than polished, more natural than artificial, and his aim is to achieve this with complete honesty, neither downplaying nor hiding flaws and shortcomings. One of the outcomes of this unrefined naturalism has been that certain episodes attracted more attention than he ever intended. However, it’s clear that, in the customs of his time, he had solid sources for everything he depicted. His genuine goal was, as he stated, “to recommend goodness and innocence,” and his clear dislikes are vanity and hypocrisy. The techniques of fiction have become more complex since his time, and other forms of literary self-indulgence have replaced his once-famous introductory essays, but the influences of Tom Jones are still noticeable in much of our more robust modern fiction.

Meanwhile, its author was showing considerable activity in his magisterial duties. In May 1749, he was chosen chairman of quarter sessions for Westminster; and in June he delivered himself of a weighty charge to the grand jury. Besides other pamphlets, he produced a careful and still readable Enquiry into the Causes of the late Increase of Robbers, &c. (1751), which, among its other merits, was not ineffectual in helping on the famous Gin Act of that year, a practical result to which the “Gin Lane” and “Beer Street” of his friend Hogarth also materially contributed. These duties and preoccupations left their mark on his next fiction, Amelia (1752), which is rather more taken up with social problems and popular grievances than its forerunners. But the leading personage, in whom, as in the Sophia Western of Tom Jones, he reproduced the traits of his first wife, is certainly, as even Johnson admitted, “the most pleasing heroine of all the romances.” The minor characters, too, especially Dr Harrison and Colonel Bath, are equal to any in Tom Jones. The book nevertheless shows signs, not of failure but of fatigue, perhaps 327 of haste—a circumstance heightened by the absence of those “prolegomenous” chapters over which the author had lingered so lovingly in Tom Jones. In 1749 he had been dangerously ill, and his health was visibly breaking. The £1000 which Millar is said to have given for Amelia must have been painfully earned.

Meanwhile, the author was quite active in his official duties. In May 1749, he was elected chairman of the quarter sessions for Westminster, and in June he delivered a significant charge to the grand jury. In addition to other pamphlets, he produced a thorough and still-readable Enquiry into the Causes of the late Increase of Robbers, &c. (1751), which, among its other merits, played a role in the passage of the famous Gin Act that year—an outcome that was also significantly influenced by his friend Hogarth’s works “Gin Lane” and “Beer Street.” These responsibilities and concerns left their mark on his next novel, Amelia (1752), which focuses more on social issues and public grievances than its predecessors. However, the main character, who reflects the qualities of his first wife, like Sophia Western in Tom Jones, is undoubtedly, as even Johnson acknowledged, “the most pleasing heroine of all the romances.” The supporting characters, especially Dr. Harrison and Colonel Bath, are as memorable as any in Tom Jones. Nevertheless, the book shows signs, not of failure but of fatigue, possibly of haste—a situation accentuated by the lack of those “prolegomenous” chapters that the author had cherished in Tom Jones. In 1749, he had been seriously ill, and his health was clearly deteriorating. The £1000 that Millar reportedly paid for Amelia must have been hard-earned.

Early in 1752 his still indomitable energy prompted him to start a third newspaper, the Covent Garden Journal, which ran from the 4th of January to the 25th of November. It is an interesting contemporary record, and throws a good deal of light on his Bow Street duties. But it has no great literary value, and it unhappily involved him in harassing and undignified hostilities with Smollett, Dr John Hill, Bonnell Thornton and other of his contemporaries. To the following year belong pamphlets on “Provision for the Poor,” and the case of the strange impostor, Elizabeth Canning (1734-1773).1 By 1754 his own case, as regards health, had grown desperate; and he made matters worse by a gallant and successful attempt to break up a “gang of villains and cut-throats,” who had become the terror of the metropolis. This accomplished, he resigned his office to his half-brother John (afterwards Sir John) Fielding. But it was now too late. After fruitless essay both of Dr Ward’s specifics and the tar-water of Bishop Berkeley, it was felt that his sole chance of prolonging life lay in removal to a warmer climate. On the 26th of June 1754 he accordingly left his little country house at Fordhook, Ealing, for Lisbon, in the “Queen of Portugal,” Richard Veal master. The ship, as often, was tediously wind-bound, and the protracted discomforts of the sick man and his family are narrated at length in the touching posthumous tract entitled the Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon, which, with a fragment of a comment on Bolingbroke’s then recently issued essays, was published in February 1755 “for the Benefit of his [Fielding’s] Wife and Children.” Reaching Lisbon at last in August 1754, he died there two months later (8th October), and was buried in the English cemetery, where a monument was erected to him in 1830. Luget Britannia gremio non dari fovere natum is inscribed upon it.

Early in 1752, his relentless energy drove him to launch a third newspaper, the Covent Garden Journal, which operated from January 4th to November 25th. It serves as an intriguing record of the time and provides significant insight into his duties at Bow Street. However, it lacks substantial literary merit and unfortunately led him into troubling and undignified conflicts with Smollett, Dr. John Hill, Bonnell Thornton, and other contemporaries. The following year saw the release of pamphlets on “Provision for the Poor” and the case of the unusual impostor, Elizabeth Canning (1734-1773).1 By 1754, his health had deteriorated significantly; and he worsened his condition with a brave and successful attempt to dismantle a “gang of villains and cut-throats” that had terrorized the city. After this, he handed his position over to his half-brother John (later Sir John) Fielding. But it was now too late. After unsuccessful attempts with both Dr. Ward’s remedies and Bishop Berkeley’s tar-water, it was determined that his only hope for survival lay in moving to a warmer climate. On June 26, 1754, he accordingly left his small country house at Fordhook, Ealing, for Lisbon, aboard the “Queen of Portugal,” captained by Richard Veal. The ship, as often happens, was stuck waiting for favorable winds, and the drawn-out discomforts of the sick man and his family are described in detail in the poignant posthumous work titled the Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon, which, along with a fragment of commentary on Bolingbroke’s recently released essays, was published in February 1755 “for the Benefit of his [Fielding’s] Wife and Children.” After finally reaching Lisbon in August 1754, he passed away two months later on October 8th and was buried in the English cemetery, where a monument was erected in his honor in 1830. The inscription reads, Luget Britannia gremio non dari fovere natum.

His estate, including the proceeds of a fair library, only covered his just debts (Athenaeum, 25th Nov. 1905); but his family, a daughter by his first, and two boys and a girl by his second wife, were faithfully cared for by his brother John, and by his friend Ralph Allen of Prior Park, Bath, the Squire Allworthy of Tom Jones. His will (undated) was printed in the Athenaeum for the 1st of February 1890. There is but one absolutely authentic portrait of him, a familiar outline by Hogarth, executed from memory for Andrew Millar’s edition of his works in 1762. It is the likeness of a man broken by ill-health, and affords but faint indication of the handsome Harry Fielding who in his salad days “warmed both hands before the fire of life.” Far too much stress, it is now held, has been laid by his first biographers upon the unworshipful side of his early career. That he was always profuse, sanguine and more or less improvident, is as probable as that he was always manly, generous and sympathetic. But it is also plain that, in his later years, he did much, as father, friend and magistrate, to redeem the errors, real and imputed, of a too-youthful youth.

His estate, which included the earnings from a decent library, only managed to settle his legitimate debts (Athenaeum, November 25, 1905); however, his family—a daughter from his first marriage and two boys and a girl from his second wife—were well taken care of by his brother John and his friend Ralph Allen from Prior Park, Bath, who is the model for Squire Allworthy in Tom Jones. His will, which was undated, was published in the Athenaeum on February 1, 1890. There is only one completely authentic portrait of him, a well-known outline by Hogarth, done from memory for Andrew Millar’s edition of his works in 1762. It is the image of a man worn down by poor health and gives only a faint indication of the handsome Harry Fielding who, in his younger days, “warmed both hands before the fire of life.” It is now believed that his early biographers placed too much emphasis on the less admirable aspects of his early life. While it’s likely that he was always extravagant, optimistic, and somewhat reckless, it’s also true that he was consistently manly, generous, and compassionate. Clearly, in his later years, he did a lot, as a father, friend, and magistrate, to atone for the real and perceived mistakes of his youth.

As a playwright and essayist his rank is not elevated. But as a novelist his place is a definite one. If the Spectator is to be credited with foreshadowing the characters of the novel, Defoe with its earliest form, and Richardson with its first experiments in sentimental analysis, it is to Henry Fielding that we owe its first accurate delineation of contemporary manners. Neglecting, or practically neglecting, sentiment as unmanly, and relying chiefly on humour and ridicule, he set out to draw life precisely as he saw it around him, without blanks or dashes. He was, it may be, for a judicial moralist, too indulgent to some of its frailties, but he was merciless to its meaner vices. For reasons which have been already given, his high-water mark is Tom Jones, which has remained, and remains, a model in its way of the kind he inaugurated.

As a playwright and essayist, his status isn't very high. But as a novelist, he definitely has a solid place. If we consider that the Spectator hinted at the characters in the novel, Defoe was responsible for its earliest form, and Richardson made the first attempts at sentimental analysis, it’s Henry Fielding to whom we owe the first accurate depiction of contemporary life. He overlooked, or nearly overlooked, sentiment as unmanly and mostly relied on humor and satire, aiming to portray life just as he saw it around him, without any omissions or censorship. He might have been too lenient, for a moral judge, toward some of its flaws, but he showed no mercy toward its lesser vices. For reasons already stated, his peak work is Tom Jones, which has remained a model of the genre he created.

An essay on Fielding’s life and writings is prefixed to Arthur Murphy’s edition of his works (1762), and short biographies have been written by Walter Scott and William Roscoe. There are also lives by Watson (1807), Lawrence (1855), Austin Dobson (“Men of Letters,” 1883, 1907) and G.M. Godden (1909). An annotated edition of the Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon is included in the “World’s Classics” (1907).

An essay about Fielding’s life and writings is included at the beginning of Arthur Murphy’s edition of his works (1762), and short biographies have been created by Walter Scott and William Roscoe. There are also biographies by Watson (1807), Lawrence (1855), Austin Dobson (“Men of Letters,” 1883, 1907), and G.M. Godden (1909). An annotated edition of the Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon is part of the “World’s Classics” (1907).

(A. D.)

1 For a full account of this celebrated case see Howell, State Trials (1813), vol. xix.

1 For a complete overview of this famous case, refer to Howell, State Trials (1813), vol. xix.


FIELDING, WILLIAM STEVENS (1848-  ), Canadian journalist and statesman, was born in Halifax, Nova Scotia, on the 24th of November 1848. From 1864 to 1884 he was one of the staff of the Morning Chronicle, the chief Liberal paper of the province, and worked at all departments of newspaper life. In 1882 he entered the local legislature as Liberal member for Halifax, and from 1884 to 1896 was premier and provincial secretary of the province, but in the latter year became finance minister in the Dominion administration of Sir Wilfrid Laurier, and was elected to the House of Commons for Shelburne and Queen’s county. He opposed Confederation in 1864-1867, and as late as 1886 won a provincial election on the promise to advocate the repeal of the British North America Act. His administration as finance minister of Canada was important, since in 1897 he introduced a new tariff, granting to the manufactures of Great Britain a preference, subsequently increased; and later he imposed a special surtax on German imports owing to unfriendly tariff legislation by that country. In 1902 he represented Canada at the Colonial Conference in London.

FIELDING, WILLIAM STEVENS (1848-  ), Canadian journalist and politician, was born in Halifax, Nova Scotia, on November 24, 1848. From 1864 to 1884, he was part of the staff at the Morning Chronicle, the main Liberal newspaper in the province, and worked in all areas of newspaper operations. In 1882, he became a Liberal member of the local legislature for Halifax, and from 1884 to 1896, he served as premier and provincial secretary of the province. In 1896, he became the finance minister in Sir Wilfrid Laurier’s Dominion administration and was elected to the House of Commons for Shelburne and Queen’s County. He opposed Confederation from 1864 to 1867, and as late as 1886, he won a provincial election promising to advocate for the repeal of the British North America Act. His time as finance minister of Canada was significant; in 1897, he introduced a new tariff that favored British manufacturers, a preference that was later increased. He also imposed a special surtax on German imports due to unfriendly tariff legislation from that country. In 1902, he represented Canada at the Colonial Conference in London.


FIELD-MOUSE, the popular designation of such mouse-like British rodents as are not true or “house” mice. The term thus includes the long-tailed field mouse, Mus (Micromys) sylvaticus, easily recognized by its white belly, and sometimes called the wood-mouse; and the two species of short-tailed field-mice, Microtus agrestis and Evotomys glareolus, together with their representatives in Skomer island and the Orkneys (see Mouse and Vole).

FIELD-MOUSE, the common name for certain mouse-like British rodents that aren't true or "house" mice. This term includes the long-tailed field mouse, Mus (Micromys) sylvaticus, easily identified by its white belly, and sometimes referred to as the wood mouse; as well as the two species of short-tailed field mice, Microtus agrestis and Evotomys glareolus, along with their populations on Skomer Island and the Orkneys (see Mouse and Vole).


FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD, the French Camp du drap d’or, the name given to the place between Guînes and Ardres where Henry VIII. of England met Francis I. of France in June 1520. The most elaborate arrangements were made for the accommodation of the two monarchs and their large retinues; and on Henry’s part especially no efforts were spared to make a great impression in Europe by this meeting. Before the castle of Guînes a temporary palace, covering an area of nearly 12,000 sq. yds., was erected for the reception of the English king. It was decorated in the most sumptuous fashion, and like the chapel, served by thirty-five priests, was furnished with a profusion of golden ornaments. Some idea of the size of Henry’s following may be gathered from the fact that in one month 2200 sheep and other viands in a similar proportion were consumed. In the fields beyond the castle, tents to the number of 2800 were erected for less distinguished visitors, and the whole scene was one of the greatest animation. Ladies gorgeously clad, and knights, showing by their dress and bearing their anxiety to revive the glories and the follies of the age of chivalry, jostled mountebanks, mendicants and vendors of all kinds.

FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD, the French Camp du drap d’or, the name given to the location between Guînes and Ardres where Henry VIII of England met Francis I of France in June 1520. Extensive arrangements were made for the accommodation of the two kings and their large entourages; especially on Henry’s side, no effort was spared to make a significant impact in Europe through this meeting. In front of the castle of Guînes, a temporary palace, covering nearly 12,000 sq. yds., was built to host the English king. It was decorated lavishly, and like the chapel, served by thirty-five priests, it was adorned with an abundance of golden decorations. The scale of Henry’s entourage is evident from the fact that in one month, 2200 sheep and other supplies in similar quantities were consumed. In the fields beyond the castle, 2800 tents were set up for less distinguished guests, and the entire scene was filled with vibrant activity. Ladies dressed in elaborate attire and knights, eager to revive the splendors and quirks of the chivalric age, mingled with entertainers, beggars, and various vendors.

Journeying from Calais Henry reached his headquarters at Guînes on the 4th of June 1520, and Francis took up his residence at Ardres. After Cardinal Wolsey, with a splendid train had visited the French king, the two monarchs met at the Val Doré, a spot midway between the two places, on the 7th. The following days were taken up with tournaments, in which both kings took part, banquets and other entertainments, and after Wolsey had said mass the two sovereigns separated on the 24th. This meeting made a great impression on contemporaries, but its political results were very small.

Journeying from Calais, Henry arrived at his headquarters in Guînes on June 4, 1520, while Francis settled in Ardres. After Cardinal Wolsey, with a grand entourage, visited the French king, the two monarchs met at the Val Doré, a location halfway between the two sites, on the 7th. The next few days were filled with tournaments, where both kings participated, along with banquets and other festivities, and after Wolsey held mass, the two rulers parted ways on the 24th. This meeting left a significant mark on those who lived at the time, but its political outcomes were minimal.

The Ordonnance for the Field is printed by J.S. Brewer in the Calendar of State Papers, Henry VIII. vol. iii. (1867). See also J.S. Brewer, Reign of Henry VIII. (1884).

The Ordonnance for the Field is published by J.S. Brewer in the Calendar of State Papers, Henry VIII, vol. iii. (1867). Also, check out J.S. Brewer, Reign of Henry VIII. (1884).


FIELDS, JAMES THOMAS (1817-1881), American publisher and author, was born in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, on the 31st of December 1817. At the age of seventeen he went to Boston as clerk in a bookseller’s shop. Afterwards he wrote for the newspapers, and in 1835 he read an anniversary poem entitled “Commerce” before the Boston Mercantile Library 328 Association. In 1839 he became junior partner in the publishing and bookselling firm known after 1846 as Ticknor & Fields, and after 1868 as Fields, Osgood & Company. He was the publisher of the foremost contemporary American writers, with whom he was on terms of close personal friendship, and he was the American publisher of some of the best-known British writers of his time, some of whom, also, he knew intimately. The first collected edition of De Quincey’s works (20 vols., 1850-1855) was published by his firm. As a publisher he was characterized by a somewhat rare combination of keen business acumen and sound, discriminating literary taste, and as a man he was known for his geniality and charm of manner. In 1862-1870, as the successor of James Russell Lowell, he edited the Atlantic Monthly. In 1871 Fields retired from business and from his editorial duties, and devoted himself to lecturing and to writing. Of his books the chief were the collection of sketches and essays entitled Underbrush (1877) and the chapters of reminiscence composing Yesterdays with Authors (1871), in which he recorded his personal friendship with Wordsworth, Thackeray, Dickens, Hawthorne and others. He died in Boston on the 24th of April 1881.

FIELDS, JAMES THOMAS (1817-1881), American publisher and author, was born in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, on December 31, 1817. At seventeen, he moved to Boston to work as a clerk in a bookstore. Later, he wrote for newspapers, and in 1835, he presented an anniversary poem titled “Commerce” at the Boston Mercantile Library Association. In 1839, he became a junior partner in the publishing and bookselling business known from 1846 as Ticknor & Fields, and after 1868 as Fields, Osgood & Company. He was the publisher of leading contemporary American writers, with whom he had close personal friendships, and he also published some of the best-known British writers of his time, many of whom he knew well. The first collected edition of De Quincey’s works (20 vols., 1850-1855) was published by his firm. As a publisher, he was noted for a rare mix of sharp business sense and refined literary taste, and as a person, he was recognized for his friendliness and charm. From 1862 to 1870, he edited the Atlantic Monthly, succeeding James Russell Lowell. In 1871, Fields retired from business and editorial work to focus on lecturing and writing. His key works include the collection of sketches and essays titled Underbrush (1877) and the reminiscences in Yesterdays with Authors (1871), where he recounted his personal friendships with Wordsworth, Thackeray, Dickens, Hawthorne, and others. He passed away in Boston on April 24, 1881.

His second wife, Annie Adams Fields (b. 1834), whom he married in 1854, published Under the Olive (1880), a book of verses; James T. Fields: Biographical Notes and Personal Sketches (1882); Authors and Friends (1896); The Life and Letters of Harriet Beecher Stowe (1897); and Orpheus (1900).

His second wife, Annie Adams Fields (b. 1834), whom he married in 1854, published Under the Olive (1880), a book of poems; James T. Fields: Biographical Notes and Personal Sketches (1882); Authors and Friends (1896); The Life and Letters of Harriet Beecher Stowe (1897); and Orpheus (1900).


FIENNES, NATHANIEL (c. 1608-1669) English politician, second son of William, 1st Viscount Saye and Sele, by Elizabeth, daughter of John Temple, of Stow in Buckinghamshire, was born in 1607 or 1608, and educated at Winchester and at New College, Oxford, where as founder’s kin he was admitted a perpetual fellow in 1624. After about five years’ residence he left without taking a degree, travelled abroad, and in Switzerland imbibed or strengthened those religious principles and that hostility to the Laudian church which were to be the chief motive in his future political career. He returned to Scotland in 1639, and established communications with the Covenanters and the Opposition in England, and as member for Banbury in both the Short and Long Parliaments he took a prominent part in the attacks upon the church. He spoke against the illegal canons on the 14th of December 1640, and again on the 9th of February 1641 on the occasion of the reception of the London petition, when he argued against episcopacy as constituting a political as well as a religious danger and made a great impression on the House, his name being added immediately to the committee appointed to deal with church affairs. He took a leading part in the examination into the army plot; was one of the commissioners appointed to attend the king to Scotland in August 1641; and was nominated one of the committee of safety in July 1642. On the outbreak of hostilities he took arms immediately, commanded a troop of horse in the army of Lord Essex, was present at the relief of Coventry in August, and at the fight at Worcester in September, where he distinguished himself, and subsequently at Edgehill. Of the last two engagements he wrote accounts, viz. True and Exact Relation of both the Battles fought by ... Earl of Essex ... against the Bloudy Cavaliers (1642). (See also A Narrative of the Late Battle before Worcester taken by a Gentleman of the Inns of Court from the mouth of Master Fiennes, 1642). In February 1643 Fiennes was sent down to Bristol, arrested Colonel Essex the governor, executed the two leaders of a plot to deliver up the city, and received a commission himself as governor on the 1st of May 1643. On the arrival, however, of Prince Rupert on the 22nd of July the place was in no condition to resist an attack, and Fiennes capitulated. He addressed to Essex a letter in his defence (Thomason Tracts E. 65, 26), drew up for the parliament a Relation concerning the Surrender ... (1643), answered by Prynne and Clement Walker accusing him of treachery and cowardice, to which he opposed Col. Fiennes his Reply.... He was tried at St Albans by the council of war in December, was pronounced guilty of having surrendered the place improperly, and sentenced to death. He was, however, pardoned, and the facility with which Bristol subsequently capitulated to the parliamentary army induced Cromwell and the generals to exonerate him completely. His military career nevertheless now came to an end. He went abroad, and it was some time before he reappeared on the political scene. In September 1647 he was included in the army committee, and on the 3rd of January 1648 he became a member of the committee of safety. He was, however, in favour of accepting the king’s terms at Newport in December, and in consequence was excluded from the House by Pride’s Purge. An opponent of church government in any form, he was no friend to the rigid and tyrannical Presbyterianism of the day, and inclined to Independency and Cromwell’s party. He was a member of the council of state in 1654, and in June 1655 he received the strange appointment of commissioner for the custody of the great seal, for which he was certainly in no way fitted. In the parliament of 1654 he was returned for Oxford county and in that of 1656 for the university, while in January 1658 he was included in Cromwell’s House of Lords. He was in favour of the Protector’s assumption of the royal title and urged his acceptance of it on several occasions. His public career closes with addresses delivered in his capacity as chief commissioner of the great seal at the beginning of the sessions of January 20, 1658, and January 2, 1659, in which the religious basis of Cromwell’s government is especially insisted upon, the feature to which Fiennes throughout his career had attached most value. On the reassembling of the Long Parliament he was superseded; he took no part in the Restoration, and died at Newton Tony in Wiltshire on the 16th of December 1669. Fiennes married (1), Elizabeth, daughter of the famous parliamentarian Sir John Eliot, by whom he had one son, afterwards 3rd Viscount Saye and Sele; and (2), Frances, daughter of Richard Whitehead of Tuderley, Hants, by whom he had three daughters.

FIENNES, NATHANIEL (c. 1608-1669) English politician, second son of William, 1st Viscount Saye and Sele, and Elizabeth, daughter of John Temple of Stow in Buckinghamshire, was born in 1607 or 1608. He was educated at Winchester and New College, Oxford, where he was admitted as a perpetual fellow in 1624 due to his family's connection with the college. After about five years there, he left without earning a degree, traveled abroad, and in Switzerland strengthened the religious principles and opposition to the Laudian church that would drive his political career. He returned to Scotland in 1639, connected with the Covenanters and the opposition in England, and served as the member for Banbury in both the Short and Long Parliaments, playing a significant role in the attacks on the church. He spoke against the illegal canons on December 14, 1640, and again on February 9, 1641, during the reception of the London petition, arguing that episcopacy posed both political and religious threats, which made a strong impression on the House and led to him being appointed to the committee overseeing church affairs. He took a leading role in the investigation of the army plot, was one of the commissioners sent to accompany the king to Scotland in August 1641, and was appointed to the committee of safety in July 1642. When hostilities broke out, he immediately took up arms, commanded a troop of horse in Lord Essex's army, and participated in the relief of Coventry in August and the battle at Worcester in September, where he distinguished himself, as well as later at Edgehill. He wrote accounts of the last two battles, titled True and Exact Relation of both the Battles fought by ... Earl of Essex ... against the Bloudy Cavaliers (1642). (See also A Narrative of the Late Battle before Worcester taken by a Gentleman of the Inns of Court from the mouth of Master Fiennes, 1642). In February 1643, Fiennes was sent to Bristol, arrested Colonel Essex, the governor, executed the two leaders of a plot to surrender the city, and received his own commission as governor on May 1, 1643. However, when Prince Rupert arrived on July 22, the city was unprepared to resist an attack, and Fiennes surrendered. He sent a letter to Essex in his defense (Thomason Tracts E. 65, 26), drafted a Relation concerning the Surrender ... (1643), which was challenged by Prynne and Clement Walker, who accused him of treachery and cowardice, to which he countered with Col. Fiennes his Reply.... He was tried at St Albans by the council of war in December, found guilty of improperly surrendering the place, and sentenced to death. He was pardoned, though, and the easy way Bristol later capitulated to the parliamentary army led Cromwell and the generals to completely clear him of blame. Nevertheless, his military career came to an end. He went abroad and was away from the political scene for some time. In September 1647, he was included in the army committee, and on January 3, 1648, he became a member of the committee of safety. He was in favor of accepting the king’s terms at Newport in December, which resulted in him being excluded from the House by Pride’s Purge. Opposed to any form of church government, he was not a supporter of the strict and tyrannical Presbyterianism of the time, leaning more towards Independency and Cromwell’s faction. He was part of the council of state in 1654, and in June 1655, he received the unusual appointment as commissioner for the custody of the great seal, a position he was clearly not suited for. In the 1654 parliament, he was elected for Oxford county and in the 1656 parliament for the university, while in January 1658, he was included in Cromwell’s House of Lords. He supported the Protector’s claim to the royal title and urged him to accept it on multiple occasions. His public career concluded with addresses presented in his role as chief commissioner of the great seal at the start of the sessions on January 20, 1658, and January 2, 1659, emphasizing the religious foundation of Cromwell’s government, which Fiennes valued throughout his career. When the Long Parliament reassembled, he was removed from his position; he did not participate in the Restoration, and he died at Newton Tony in Wiltshire on December 16, 1669. Fiennes married (1) Elizabeth, daughter of the notable parliamentarian Sir John Eliot, with whom he had one son, who later became the 3rd Viscount Saye and Sele; and (2) Frances, daughter of Richard Whitehead of Tuderley, Hants, with whom he had three daughters.

Besides the pamphlets already cited, a number of his speeches and other political tracts were published (see Gen. Catalogue, British Museum). Wood also attributed to him Monarchy Asserted (1666) (reprinted in Somers Tracts, vi. 346 [ed. Scott]), but there seems no reason to ascribe to him with Clement Walker the authorship of Sprigge’s Anglia Rediviva.

Besides the pamphlets mentioned earlier, several of his speeches and other political writings were published (see Gen. Catalogue, British Museum). Wood also credited him with Monarchy Asserted (1666) (reprinted in Somers Tracts, vi. 346 [ed. Scott]), but there doesn't seem to be a reason to attribute to him, along with Clement Walker, the authorship of Sprigge’s Anglia Rediviva.


FIERI FACIAS, usually abbreviated fi. fa. (Lat. “that you cause to be made”), in English law, a writ of execution after judgment obtained in action of debt or damages. It is addressed to the sheriff, and commands him to make good the amount out of the goods of the person against whom judgment has been obtained. (See Execution.)

FIERI FACIAS, commonly shortened to fi. fa. (Latin for "that you cause to be made"), is a legal document in English law that serves as an execution order after a judgment has been made in a case involving debt or damages. It is directed to the sheriff and instructs him to collect the owed amount from the property of the person who has lost the case. (See Execution.)


FIESCHI, GIUSEPPE MARCO (1790-1836), the chief conspirator in the attempt on the life of Louis Philippe in July 1835, was a native of Murato in Corsica. He served under Murat, then returned to Corsica, where he was condemned to ten years’ imprisonment and perpetual surveillance by the police for theft and forgery. After a period of vagabondage he eluded the police and obtained a small post in Paris by means of forged papers; but losing it on account of his suspicious manner of living, he resolved to revenge himself on society. He took lodgings on the Boulevard du Temple, and there, with two members of the Société des Droits de l’Homme, Morey and Pépin by name, contrived an “infernal machine,” constructed with twenty gun barrels, to be fired simultaneously. On the 28th of July 1835, as Louis Philippe was passing along the boulevard to the Bastille, accompanied by his three sons and a numerous staff, the machine was exploded. A ball grazed the king’s forehead, and his horse, with those of the duke of Nemours and of the prince de Joinville, was shot; Marshal Mortier was killed, with seventeen other persons, and many were wounded; but the king and the princes escaped as if by miracle. Fieschi himself was severely wounded by the discharge of his machine, and vainly attempted to escape. The attentions of the most skilful physicians were lavished upon him, and his life was saved for the stroke of justice. On his trial he named his accomplices, displayed much bravado, and expected or pretended to expect ultimate pardon. He was condemned to death, and was guillotined on the 19th of February 1836. Morey and Pépin were also executed, another accomplice was sentenced to twenty years’ imprisonment and one was acquitted. No less than seven plots against the life of Louis Philippe had been discovered 329 by the police within the year, and apologists were not wanting in the revolutionary press for the crime of Fieschi.

FIESCHI, GIUSEPPE MARCO (1790-1836), the main conspirator in the attempt on King Louis Philippe's life in July 1835, was from Murato in Corsica. He served under Murat, then returned to Corsica, where he was sentenced to ten years in prison and constant police surveillance for theft and forgery. After wandering for a while, he managed to evade the police and got a small job in Paris using forged documents; however, he lost it because of his suspicious lifestyle and decided to take revenge on society. He rented a place on the Boulevard du Temple and, along with two members of the Société des Droits de l’Homme, named Morey and Pépin, created an "infernal machine" made from twenty gun barrels meant to fire at once. On July 28, 1835, as Louis Philippe was passing down the boulevard to the Bastille with his three sons and a large entourage, the machine exploded. A bullet grazed the king’s forehead, and his horse, along with those of the Duke of Nemours and the Prince de Joinville, was shot; Marshal Mortier was killed along with seventeen others, and many more were injured; but the king and the princes escaped seemingly by miracle. Fieschi himself was seriously hurt by the explosion and tried unsuccessfully to escape. The best doctors worked tirelessly to save him before justice caught up with him. During his trial, he named his accomplices, showed a lot of bravado, and expected or pretended to expect a pardon. He was sentenced to death and was guillotined on February 19, 1836. Morey and Pépin were also executed, another accomplice received a twenty-year prison sentence, and one was acquitted. Within that year, the police had uncovered no less than seven plots against Louis Philippe’s life, and there were defenders of Fieschi's actions in the revolutionary press. 329

See Procès de Fieschi, precédé de sa vie privée, sa condamnation par la Cour des Pairs et celles de ses complices (2 vols., 1836); also P. Thureau-Dangin, Hist, de la monarchie de Juillet (vol. iv. ch. xii., 1884).

See Procès de Fieschi, preceded by his private life, his sentencing by the Court of Peers, and those of his accomplices (2 vols., 1836); also P. Thureau-Dangin, History of the July Monarchy (vol. iv. ch. xii., 1884).


FIESCO (de’ Fieschi), GIOVANNI LUIGI (c. 1523-1547), count of Lavagna, was descended from one of the greatest families of Liguria, first mentioned in the 10th century. Among his ancestors were two popes (Innocent IV. and Adrian V.), many cardinals, a king of Sicily, three saints, and many generals and admirals of Genoa and other states. Sinibaldo Fiesco, his father, had been a close friend of Andrea Doria (q.v.), and had rendered many important services to the Genoese republic. On his death in 1532 Giovanni found himself at the age of nine the head of the family and possessor of immense estates. He grew up to be a handsome, intelligent youth, of attractive manners and very ambitious. He married Eleonora Cibò, marchioness of Massa, in 1540, a woman of great beauty and family influence. There were many reasons which inspired his hatred of the Doria family; the almost absolute power wielded by the aged admiral and the insolence of his nephew and heir Giannettino Doria, the commander of the galleys, were galling to him as to many other Genoese, and it is said that Giannettino was the lover of Fiesco’s wife. Moreover, the Fiesco belonged to the French or popular party, while the Doria were aristocrats and Imperialists. When Fiesco determined to conspire against Doria he found friends in many quarters. Pope Paul III. was the first to encourage him, while both Pier Luigi Farnese, duke of Parma, and Francis I. of France gave him much assistance and promised him many advantages. Among his associates in Genoa were his brothers Girolamo and Ottobuono, Verrina and R. Sacco. A number of armed men from the Fiesco fiefs were secretly brought to Genoa, and it was agreed that on the 2nd of January 1547, during the interregnum before the election of the new doge, the galleys in the port should be seized and the city gates held. The first part of the programme was easily carried out, and Giannettino Doria, aroused by the tumult, rushed down to the port and was killed, but Andrea escaped from the city in time. The conspirators attempted to gain possession of the government, but unfortunately for them Giovanni Luigi, while crossing a plank from the quay to one of the galleys, fell into the water and was drowned. The news spread consternation among the Fiesco faction, and Girolamo Fiesco found few adherents. They came to terms with the senate and were granted a general amnesty. Doria returned to Genoa on the 4th thirsting for revenge, and in spite of the amnesty he confiscated the Fiesco estates; Girolamo had shut himself up, with Verrina and Sacco and other conspirators, in his castle of Montobbia, which the Genoese at Doria’s instigation besieged and captured. Girolamo Fiesco and Verrina were tried, tortured and executed; all their estates were seized, some of which, including Torriglia, Doria obtained for himself. Ottobuono Fiesco, who had escaped, was captured eight years afterwards and put to death by Doria’s orders.

FIESCO (de' Fieschi), GIOVANNI LUIGI (c. 1523-1547), count of Lavagna, came from one of the most prominent families in Liguria, first recorded in the 10th century. His lineage included two popes (Innocent IV and Adrian V), several cardinals, a king of Sicily, three saints, and numerous generals and admirals from Genoa and other regions. Sinibaldo Fiesco, his father, had been a close ally of Andrea Doria (q.v.) and had performed significant services for the Genoese republic. When his father died in 1532, Giovanni, just nine years old, became the head of the family and inherited vast estates. He grew into a handsome and intelligent young man, known for his charm and ambition. In 1540, he married Eleonora Cibò, marchioness of Massa, a woman of great beauty and influential family ties. Numerous factors fueled his resentment towards the Doria family; the nearly absolute power held by the elderly admiral and the arrogance of his nephew and successor, Giannettino Doria, who commanded the galleys, were frustrating to him and many other Genoese, and it was rumored that Giannettino was having an affair with Fiesco’s wife. Furthermore, the Fiesco family belonged to the French or popular faction, while the Doria family were aristocrats and Imperialists. When Fiesco decided to plot against Doria, he found supporters from various quarters. Pope Paul III was the first to back him, while both Pier Luigi Farnese, duke of Parma, and Francis I of France provided him with considerable support and promised him various advantages. Among his collaborators in Genoa were his brothers Girolamo and Ottobuono, Verrina, and R. Sacco. A contingent of armed men from the Fiesco lands was secretly brought to Genoa, and it was agreed that on January 2, 1547, during the time before the election of the new doge, they would seize the galleys in the port and secure the city gates. The first part of the plan was executed smoothly, and Giannettino Doria, alerted by the commotion, rushed to the port and was killed, but Andrea escaped from the city in time. The conspirators tried to take control of the government, but unfortunately for them, Giovanni Luigi, while crossing a plank from the quay to one of the galleys, fell into the water and drowned. This news spread panic among the Fiesco supporters, and Girolamo Fiesco found few allies. They negotiated with the senate and were granted a general amnesty. Doria returned to Genoa on the 4th, eager for revenge, and despite the amnesty, he confiscated the Fiesco lands; Girolamo had barricaded himself, along with Verrina, Sacco, and other conspirators, in his castle of Montobbia, which the Genoese, at Doria’s instigation, besieged and captured. Girolamo Fiesco and Verrina were tried, tortured, and executed; all their properties were seized, some of which, including Torriglia, Doria acquired for himself. Ottobuono Fiesco, who had managed to escape, was captured eight years later and executed by Doria’s orders.

There are many accounts of the conspiracy, of which perhaps the best is contained in E. Petit’s André Doria (Paris, 1887), chs. xi. and xii., where all the chief authorities are quoted; see also Calligari, La Congiura del Fiesco (Venice 1892), and Gavazzo, Nuovi documenti sulla congiura del conte Fiesco (Genoa, 1886); E. Bernabò-Brea, in his Sulla congiura di Giovanni Luigi Fieschi, publishes many important documents, while L. Capelloni’s Congiura del Fiesco, edited by Olivieri, and A. Mascardi’s Congiura del conte Giovanni Luigi de’ Fieschi (Antwerp, 1629) may be commended among the earlier works. The Fiesco conspiracy has been the subject of many poems and dramas, of which the most famous is that by Schiller. See also under Doria, Andrea; Farnese.

There are many accounts of the conspiracy, and perhaps the best one is in E. Petit’s André Doria (Paris, 1887), chapters xi. and xii., where all the major sources are quoted. Also look at Calligari, La Congiura del Fiesco (Venice 1892), and Gavazzo, Nuovi documenti sulla congiura del conte Fiesco (Genoa, 1886). E. Bernabò-Brea publishes many important documents in his Sulla congiura di Giovanni Luigi Fieschi, while L. Capelloni’s Congiura del Fiesco, edited by Olivieri, and A. Mascardi’s Congiura del conte Giovanni Luigi de’ Fieschi (Antwerp, 1629) are noteworthy among the earlier works. The Fiesco conspiracy has inspired many poems and dramas, the most famous being Schiller's. See also under Doria, Andrea; Farnese.

(L. V.*)

FIESOLE (anc. Faesulae, q.v.), a town and episcopal see of Tuscany, Italy, in the province of Florence, from which it is 3 m. N.E. by electric tramway. Pop. (1901) town 4951, commune 16,816. It is situated on a hill 970 ft. above sea-level, and commands a fine view. The cathedral of S. Romolo is an early and simple example of the Tuscan Romanesque style; it is a small basilica, begun in 1028 and restored in 1256. The picturesque battlemented campanile belongs to 1213. The tomb of the bishop Leonardo Salutati (d. 1466). with a beautiful portrait bust by the sculptor, Mino da Fiesole (1431-1484), is fine. The 13th-century Palazzo Pretorio contains a small museum of antiquities. The Franciscan monastery commands a fine view. The church of S. Maria Primerana has some works of art, and S. Alessandro, which is attributed to the 6th century, contains fifteen ancient columns of cipollino. The inhabitants of Fiesole are largely engaged in straw-plaiting.

Fiesole (formerly Faesulae, q.v.), a town and bishopric in Tuscany, Italy, located in the province of Florence, just 3 miles N.E. by electric tramway. Population (1901) of the town was 4,951, and the commune had 16,816 residents. It sits on a hill 970 feet above sea level, offering a great view. The cathedral of S. Romolo is an early and simple example of the Tuscan Romanesque style; it is a small basilica that began construction in 1028 and was restored in 1256. The picturesque battlemented campanile dates back to 1213. The tomb of Bishop Leonardo Salutati (d. 1466) features a beautiful portrait bust by the sculptor Mino da Fiesole (1431-1484). The 13th-century Palazzo Pretorio houses a small museum of antiquities. The Franciscan monastery also offers a great view. The church of S. Maria Primerana hosts some works of art, and S. Alessandro, believed to be from the 6th century, contains fifteen ancient columns made of cipollino. The people of Fiesole are mostly involved in straw-plaiting.

Below Fiesole, between it and Florence, lies San Domenico di Fiesole (485 ft.); in the Dominican monastery the painter, Fra Giovanni Angelico da Fiesole (1387-1455), lived until he went to S. Marco at Florence. Here, too, is the Badia di Fiesole, founded in 1028 and re-erected about 1456-1466 by a follower of Brunelleschi. It is an irregular pile of buildings, in fine and simple early Renaissance style; a small part of the original façade of 1028 in black and white marble is preserved. The interior of the Church is decorated with sculptures by pupils of Desiderio da Settignano. The slopes of the hill on which Fiesole stands are covered with fine villas. To the S.E. of Fiesole lies Monte Ceceri (1453 ft.), with quarries of grey pietra serena, largely used in Florence for building. To the E. of this lies the 14th-century castle of Vincigliata restored and fitted up in the medieval style.

Below Fiesole, between it and Florence, is San Domenico di Fiesole (485 ft.); in the Dominican monastery, the painter Fra Giovanni Angelico da Fiesole (1387-1455) lived until he moved to S. Marco in Florence. Here, you can also find the Badia di Fiesole, founded in 1028 and rebuilt around 1456-1466 by a follower of Brunelleschi. It's an irregular collection of buildings in a beautiful and simple early Renaissance style; a small section of the original façade from 1028 in black and white marble is still preserved. The interior of the church is decorated with sculptures by students of Desiderio da Settignano. The slopes of the hill where Fiesole sits are filled with impressive villas. To the southeast of Fiesole is Monte Ceceri (1453 ft.), with quarries of grey pietra serena, which are widely used in Florence for construction. East of this is the 14th-century castle of Vincigliata, which has been restored and furnished in medieval style.


FIFE, an eastern county of Scotland, bounded N. by the Firth of Tay, E. by the North Sea, S. by the Firth of Forth, and W. by the shires of Perth, Kinross and Clackmannan. The Isle of May, Inchkeith, Inchcolm, Inchgarvie and the islet of Oxcar belong to the shire. It has an area of 322,844, acres or 504 sq. m. Its coast-line measure 108 m. The Lomond Hills to the S. and S.W. of Falkland, of which West Lomond is 1713 ft. high and East Lomond 1471 ft., Saline Hill (1178 ft.) to the N.W. of Dunfermline, and Benarty (1131 ft.) on the confines of Kinross are the chief heights. Of the rivers the Eden is the longest; formed on the borders of Kinross-shire by the confluence of Beattie Burn and Carmore Burn, it pursues a wandering course for 25 m. N.E., partly through the Howe, or Hollow of Fife, and empties into the North Sea. There is good trout fishing in its upper waters, but weirs prevent salmon from ascending it. The Leven drains the loch of that name and enters the Forth at the town of Leven after flowing eastward for 15 m. There are numerous factories at various points on its banks. The Ore, rising not far from Roscobie Hills to the north of Dunfermline, follows a mainly north-easterly course for 15 m. till it joins the Leven at Windygates. The old loch of Ore which was an expansion of its water was long ago reclaimed. Motray Water finds its source in the parish of Kilmany, a few miles W. by N. of Cupar, makes a bold sweep towards the north-east, and then, taking a southerly turn, enters the head-waters of St Andrews Bay, after a course of 12 m. The principal lochs are Loch Fitty, Loch Gelly, Loch Glow and Loch Lindores; they are small but afford some sport for trout, perch and pike. “Freshwater mussels” occur in Loch Fitty. There are no glens, and the only large valley is the fertile Stratheden, which supplies part of the title of the combined baronies of Stratheden (created 1836) and Campbell (created 1841).

FIFE, is an eastern county in Scotland, bordered to the north by the Firth of Tay, to the east by the North Sea, to the south by the Firth of Forth, and to the west by the counties of Perth, Kinross, and Clackmannan. The Isle of May, Inchkeith, Inchcolm, Inchgarvie, and the small island of Oxcar are part of this county. It covers an area of 322,844 acres or 504 square miles, with a coastline measuring 108 miles. The Lomond Hills to the south and southwest of Falkland include West Lomond at 1,713 feet and East Lomond at 1,471 feet, as well as Saline Hill (1,178 feet) to the northwest of Dunfermline, and Benarty (1,131 feet) on the borders of Kinross, which are the main heights. The Eden River is the longest; it begins on the borders of Kinross-shire at the confluence of Beattie Burn and Carmore Burn, winding its way northeast for 25 miles, partly through the Howe, or Hollow of Fife, and flows into the North Sea. There’s great trout fishing in its upper waters, but weirs block salmon from swimming upstream. The Leven River drains Loch Leven and flows into the Forth at the town of Leven after traveling east for 15 miles, with many factories located along its banks. The Ore River rises near Roscobie Hills north of Dunfermline and takes a mainly northeast route for 15 miles until it meets the Leven at Windygates. The old Ore Loch, which used to be an expansion of the river, was drained long ago. Motray Water starts in the parish of Kilmany, a few miles west-northwest of Cupar, makes a noticeable curve towards the northeast, and then turns south to enter the headwaters of St Andrews Bay after a 12-mile journey. The main lochs are Loch Fitty, Loch Gelly, Loch Glow, and Loch Lindores; they are small but provide some fun for trout, perch, and pike fishing. “Freshwater mussels” can be found in Loch Fitty. There are no glens, and the only large valley is the fertile Stratheden, which is part of the namesake baronies of Stratheden (established in 1836) and Campbell (established in 1841).

Geology.—Between Damhead and Tayport on the northern side of the low-lying Howe of Fife the higher ground is formed of Lower Old Red Sandstone volcanic rocks, consisting of red and purple porphyrites and andesites and some coarse agglomerates, which, in the neighbourhood of Auchtermuchty, are rounded and conglomeratic. These rocks have a gentle dip towards the S.S.E. They are overlaid unconformably by the soft red sandstones of the Upper Old Red series which underlie the Howe of Fife from Loch Leven to the coast. The quarries in these rocks in Dura Den are famous for fossil fishes. Following the Old Red rocks conformably are the Carboniferous formations which occupy the remainder of the county, and are well exposed on the coast and in the numerous quarries. The Carboniferous rocks include, at the base, the Calciferous Sandstone series of dark shales with thin limestones, sandstones and coals. They are best developed around Fife Ness, between St Andrews and Elie, and again around Burntisland between Kirkcaldy and Inverkeithing Bay. In the Carboniferous Limestone series, which comes next in upward succession, are the valuable gas-coals and ironstones worked in the coal-fields of Dunfermline, Saline, Oakley, Torryburn, Kirkcaldy and Markinch. The true Coal Measures lie in the district around Dysart and Leven, East Wemyss and Kinglassie, and they 330 are separated from the coal-bearing Carboniferous Limestone series by the sandstones and conglomerates of the Millstone Grit, Fourteen seams of coal are found in the Dysart Coal Measures, associated with sandstones, shales and clay ironstones. Fife is remarkably rich in evidences of former volcanic activity. Besides the Old Red Sandstone volcanic rocks previously mentioned, there are many beds of contemporaneous basaltic lavas and tuffs in the Carboniferous rocks; Saline Hill and Knock Hill were the sites of vents, which at that time threw out ashes; these interbedded rocks are well exposed on the shore between Burntisland and and Seafield Tower. There were also many intrusive sheets of dolerite and basalt forced into the lower Carboniferous rocks, and these now play an important part in the scenery of the county. They form the summits of the Lomond Hills and Benarty, and they may be followed from Cult Hill by the Cleish Hills to Blairadam; and again near Dunfermline, Burntisland, Torryburn, Auchtertool and St Andrews. Later, in Permian times, eastern Fife was the seat of further volcanic action, and great numbers of “necks” or vents pierce the Carboniferous rocks; Largo Law is a striking example. In one of these necks on the shore at Kincraig Point is a fine example of columnar basalt; the “Rock and Spindle” near St Andrews is another. Last of all in Tertiary times, east and west rifts in the Old Red Sandstone were filled by basalt dikes. Glacial deposits, ridges of gravel and sand, boulder clay, &c., brought from the N. W., cover much of the older rocks, and traces of old raised beaches are found round the coast and in the Howe cf Fife. In the 25-ft. beach in the East Neuk of Fife is an island sea-cliff with small caves.

Geology.—Between Damhead and Tayport on the northern side of the low-lying Howe of Fife, the higher ground is made up of Lower Old Red Sandstone volcanic rocks, which consist of red and purple porphyrites and andesites, along with some coarse agglomerates that, near Auchtermuchty, are rounded and conglomerate-like. These rocks gently slope toward the S.S.E. They are unconformably overlain by the soft red sandstones of the Upper Old Red series, which underlie the Howe of Fife from Loch Leven to the coast. The quarries in these rocks in Dura Den are famous for fossil fishes. Following the Old Red rocks are the Carboniferous formations that make up the rest of the county, well exposed along the coast and in various quarries. The Carboniferous rocks include, at the base, the Calciferous Sandstone series, which consists of dark shales with thin limestones, sandstones, and coals. They are best developed around Fife Ness, between St Andrews and Elie, and again around Burntisland between Kirkcaldy and Inverkeithing Bay. In the next upward layer, the Carboniferous Limestone series contains valuable gas-coals and ironstones mined in the coalfields of Dunfermline, Saline, Oakley, Torryburn, Kirkcaldy, and Markinch. The true Coal Measures are located in the area around Dysart and Leven, East Wemyss, and Kinglassie, separated from the coal-bearing Carboniferous Limestone series by the sandstones and conglomerates of the Millstone Grit. Fourteen seams of coal are found in the Dysart Coal Measures, associated with sandstones, shales, and clay ironstones. Fife is notably rich in evidence of past volcanic activity. In addition to the previously mentioned Old Red Sandstone volcanic rocks, there are many beds of contemporary basaltic lavas and tuffs in the Carboniferous rocks; Saline Hill and Knock Hill were once vents that expelled ash at that time. These interbedded rocks are well exposed along the shore between Burntisland and Seafield Tower. There were also many intrusive sheets of dolerite and basalt forced into the lower Carboniferous rocks, which now play a significant role in the scenery of the county. These formations create the summits of the Lomond Hills and Benarty, and can be traced from Cult Hill through the Cleish Hills to Blairadam; they also appear near Dunfermline, Burntisland, Torryburn, Auchtertool, and St Andrews. Later, in Permian times, eastern Fife experienced further volcanic activity, with numerous "necks" or vents piercing the Carboniferous rocks; Largo Law is a striking example. One of these necks on the shore at Kincraig Point showcases a fine example of columnar basalt; the “Rock and Spindle” near St Andrews is another. Finally, in Tertiary times, east and west rifts in the Old Red Sandstone were filled by basalt dikes. Glacial deposits, ridges of gravel and sand, boulder clay, etc., brought in from the NW, cover much of the older rocks, and traces of ancient raised beaches can be found along the coast and in the Howe of Fife. At the 25-ft. beach in the East Neuk of Fife, there is an island sea-cliff with small caves.

Climate and Agriculture.—Since the higher hills all lie in the west, most of the county is exposed to the full force of the east winds from the North Sea, which often, save in the more sheltered areas, check the progress of vegetation. At an elevation of 500 or 600 ft. above the sea harvests are three or four weeks later than in the valleys and low-lying coast-land. The climate, on the whole, is mild, proximity to the sea qualifying the heat in summer and the cold in winter. The average annual rainfall is 31 in., rather less in the East Neuk district and around St Andrews, somewhat more as the hills are approached, late summer and autumn being the wet season. The average temperature for January is 38° F., for July 59.5°, and for the year 47.6°. Four-fifths of the total area is under cultivation, and though the acreage under grain is smaller than it was, the yield of each crop is still extraordinarily good, oats, barley, wheat being the order of acreage. Of the green crops most attention is given to turnips. Potatoes also do well. The acreage under permanent pasture and wood is very considerable. Cattle are mainly kept for feeding purposes, and dairy farming, though attracting more notice, has never been followed more than to supply local markets. Sheep-farming, however, is on the increase, and the raising of horses, especially farm horses, is an important pursuit. They are strong, active and hardy, with a large admixture, or purely, of Clydesdale blood. The ponies, hunters and carriage horses so bred are highly esteemed. The strain of pigs has been improved by the introduction of Berkshires. North of the Eden the soil, though generally thin, is fertile, but the sandy waste of Tents Moor is beyond redemption. From St Andrews southwards all along the coast the land is very productive. That adjacent to the East Neuk consists chiefly of clay and rich loam. From Leven to Inverkeithing it varies from a light sand to a rich clayey loam. Excepting Stratheden and Strathleven, which are mostly rich, fertile loam, the interior is principally cold and stiff clay or thin loam with strong clayey subsoil. Part of the Howe of Fife is light and shingly and covered with heather. Some small peat mosses still exist, and near Lochgelly there is a tract of waste, partly moss and partly heath. The character of the farm management may be judged by its results. The best methods are pursued, and houses, steadings and cottages are all in good order, commodious and comfortable. Rabbits, hares, pheasants and partridges are common in certain districts; roe deer are occasionally seen; wild geese, ducks and teal haunt the lochs; pigeon-houses are fairly numerous; and grouse and blackcock are plentiful on the Lomond moors. The shire is well suited for fox-hunting, and there are packs in both the eastern and the western division of Fife.

Climate and Agriculture.—Since the higher hills are all in the west, most of the county faces the full force of the east winds coming from the North Sea, which often slow down the growth of vegetation, except in the more sheltered areas. At an elevation of 500 or 600 ft. above sea level, harvests are three or four weeks later than in the valleys and low-lying coastal areas. Overall, the climate is mild, with the sea moderating the heat in summer and the cold in winter. The average annual rainfall is 31 inches, a bit less in the East Neuk district and around St Andrews, and slightly more as you get closer to the hills, with late summer and autumn being the wet season. The average temperature in January is 38° F., in July it’s 59.5°, and for the whole year it’s 47.6°. Four-fifths of the total area is farmed, and although there's less land for grain than before, the yield of each crop remains exceptionally high, with oats, barley, and wheat being the most common. The green crops that receive the most attention are turnips, and potatoes also thrive. The area allocated to permanent pasture and woodlands is quite substantial. Cattle are mainly raised for beef, and while dairy farming has gained more attention, it is primarily done to supply local markets. Sheep farming is on the rise, and raising horses, particularly farm horses, is a significant activity. These horses are strong, active, and hardy, often having a notable, or purely, Clydesdale lineage. The ponies, hunters, and carriage horses bred from them are highly valued. The pig population has improved with the introduction of Berkshires. North of the Eden, the soil is generally thin but fertile, while the sandy barren land of Tents Moor is beyond repair. From St Andrews southward along the coast, the land is very productive, especially the areas near the East Neuk, which mainly consists of clay and rich loam. From Leven to Inverkeithing, the soil ranges from light sand to rich clayey loam. Except for Stratheden and Strathleven, which are mostly rich, fertile loam, the interior mostly has cold, stiff clay or thin loam with a strong clay subsoil. Part of the Howe of Fife is light and shingly, covered with heather. Some small peat bogs still exist, and near Lochgelly, there is a stretch of wasteland, part moss and part heath. The quality of farm management can be assessed by its outcomes. The best practices are used, and homes, buildings, and cottages are all well-maintained, spacious, and comfortable. Rabbits, hares, pheasants, and partridges are common in certain areas; roe deer are occasionally spotted; wild geese, ducks, and teal frequent the lochs; pigeon lofts are relatively numerous; and grouse and blackcock are plentiful on the Lomond moors. The shire is well-suited for fox hunting, with packs in both the eastern and western divisions of Fife.

Mining.—Next to Lanarkshire, Fife is the largest coal-producing county in Scotland. The coal-field may roughly be divided into the Dunfermline basin (including Halbeath, Lochgelly and Kelty), where the principal house coals are found, and the Wemyss or Dysart basin (including Methil and the hinterland), where gas-coal of the best quality is obtained. Coal is also extensively worked at Culross, Carnock, Falfield, Donibristle, Ladybank, Kilconquhar and elsewhere. Beds of ironstone, limestone, sandstone and shale lie in many places contiguous to the coal. Blackband ironstone is worked at Lochgelly and Oakley, where there are large smelting furnaces. Oil shale is worked at Burntisland and Airdrie near Crail. Among the principal limestone quarries are those at Charlestown, Burntisland and Cults. Freestone of superior quality is quarried at Strathmiglo, Burntisland and Dunfermline. Whinstone of unusual hardness and durability is obtained in nearly every district. Lead has been worked in the Lomond Hills and copper and zinc have been met with, though not in paying quantities. It is of interest to note that in the trap tufa at Elie there have been found pyropes (a variety of dark-red garnet), which are regarded as the most valuable of Scottish precious stones and are sold under the name of Elie rubies.

Mining.—After Lanarkshire, Fife is the largest coal-producing county in Scotland. The coal field can be roughly divided into the Dunfermline basin (including Halbeath, Lochgelly, and Kelty), where the main house coals are found, and the Wemyss or Dysart basin (including Methil and the surrounding area), where high-quality gas-coal is extracted. Coal is also mined extensively at Culross, Carnock, Falfield, Donibristle, Ladybank, Kilconquhar, and other locations. Beds of ironstone, limestone, sandstone, and shale are often found near the coal. Blackband ironstone is mined at Lochgelly and Oakley, where large smelting furnaces operate. Oil shale is extracted at Burntisland and Airdrie near Crail. The main limestone quarries are located at Charlestown, Burntisland, and Cults. High-quality freestone is quarried at Strathmiglo, Burntisland, and Dunfermline. Whinstone, known for its exceptional hardness and durability, is found in almost every district. Lead has been mined in the Lomond Hills, and there have been findings of copper and zinc, although not in profitable amounts. Interestingly, pyropes (a type of dark-red garnet) have been found in the trap tufa at Elie; these are considered the most valuable Scottish precious stones and are sold under the name Elie rubies.

Other Industries.—The staple manufacture is linen, ranging from the finest damasks to the coarsest ducks and sackings. Its chief seats are at Kirkcaldy and Dunfermline, but it is carried on at many of the inland towns and villages, especially those situated near the Eden and Leven, on the banks of which rivers, as well as at Kirkcaldy, Dunfermline and Ceres, are found the bleaching-greens. Kirkcaldy is famous for its oil-cloth and linoleum. Most of the leading towns possess breweries and tanneries, and the largest distilleries are at Cameron Bridge and Burntisland. Woollen cloth is made to a small extent in several towns, and fishing-net at Kirkcaldy, Largo and West Wemyss. Paper is manufactured at Guardbridge, Markinch and Leslie; earthenware at Kirkcaldy; tobacco at Dunfermline and Kirkcaldy; engineering works and iron foundries are found at Kirkcaldy and Dunfermline; and shipbuilding is carried on at Kinghorn, Dysart, Burntisland, Inverkeithing and Tayport. From Inverkeithing all the way round the coast to Newburgh there are harbours at different points. They are mostly of moderate dimensions, the principal port being Kirkcaldy. The largest salmon fisheries are conducted at Newburgh and the chief seat of the herring fishery is Anstruther, but most of the coast towns take some part in the fishing either off the shore, or at stations farther north, or in the deep sea.

Other Industries.—The main product being made is linen, which varies from the finest damasks to the coarsest ducks and sackings. The key locations for this industry are Kirkcaldy and Dunfermline, but it's also carried out in many inland towns and villages, especially those near the Eden and Leven rivers, where the bleaching greens can be found, as well as in Kirkcaldy, Dunfermline, and Ceres. Kirkcaldy is well-known for its oil-cloth and linoleum. Most of the major towns have breweries and tanneries, with the largest distilleries located at Cameron Bridge and Burntisland. Woolen cloth is produced to a small degree in several towns, and fishing nets are made in Kirkcaldy, Largo, and West Wemyss. Paper is produced in Guardbridge, Markinch, and Leslie; earthenware in Kirkcaldy; tobacco in Dunfermline and Kirkcaldy; engineering works and iron foundries are present in Kirkcaldy and Dunfermline; and shipbuilding occurs in Kinghorn, Dysart, Burntisland, Inverkeithing, and Tayport. Along the coast from Inverkeithing to Newburgh, there are harbors at various points, mostly of moderate size, with Kirkcaldy being the main port. The largest salmon fisheries are found at Newburgh, and the primary herring fishery is based in Anstruther, but most coastal towns participate in fishing, whether off the shore, at locations farther north, or in the deep sea.

Communications.—The North British railway possesses a monopoly in the shire. From the Forth Bridge the main line follows the coast as far as Dysart and then turns northwards to Ladybank, where it diverges to the north-east for Cupar and the Tay Bridge. From Thornton Junction a branch runs to Dunfermline and another to Methil, and here begins also the coast line for Leven, Crail and St Andrews which touches the main line again at Leuchars Junction; at Markinch a branch runs to Leslie; at Ladybank there are branches to Mawcarse Junction, and to Newburgh and Perth; and at Leuchars Junction a loop line runs to Tayport and Newport, joining the main at Wormit. From the Forth Bridge the system also connects, via Dunfermline, with Alloa and Stirling in the W. and with Kinross and Perth in the N. From Dunfermline there is a branch to Charlestown, which on that account is sometimes called the port of Dunfermline.

Communications.—The North British railway has a monopoly in the county. From the Forth Bridge, the main line runs along the coast to Dysart and then heads north to Ladybank, where it branches off to the northeast toward Cupar and the Tay Bridge. From Thornton Junction, a line goes to Dunfermline and another to Methil; this is also where the coastal route to Leven, Crail, and St Andrews starts, reconnecting with the main line at Leuchars Junction. At Markinch, there's a branch to Leslie; at Ladybank, branches lead to Mawcarse Junction, Newburgh, and Perth; and at Leuchars Junction, a loop line extends to Tayport and Newport, joining the main line at Wormit. From the Forth Bridge, the system also connects through Dunfermline to Alloa and Stirling in the west, and to Kinross and Perth in the north. From Dunfermline, there's a branch to Charlestown, which is why it's sometimes referred to as the port of Dunfermline.

Population and Government.—The population was 190,365 in 1891, and 218,840 in 1901, when 844 persons spoke Gaelic and English and 3 Gaelic only. The chief towns are the Anstruthers (pop. in 1901, 4233), Buckhaven (8828), Burntisland (4846), Cowdenbeath (7908), Cupar (4511), Dunfermline (25,250), Dysart (3562), Kelty (3986), Kirkcaldy (34,079), Leslie (3587), Leven (5577), Lochgelly (5472), Lumphinnans (2071), Newport (2869), St Andrews (7621), Tayport (3325) and Wemyss (2522). For parliamentary purposes Fife is divided into an eastern and a western division, each returning one member. It also includes the Kirkcaldy district of parliamentary burghs (comprising Burntisland, Dysart, Kinghorn and Kirkcaldy), and the St Andrews district (the two Anstruthers, Crail, Cupar, Kilrenny, Pittenweem and St Andrews); while Culross, Dunfermline and Inverkeithing are grouped with the Stirling district. As 331 regards education the county is under school-board jurisdiction, and in respect of higher education its equipment is effective. St Andrews contains several excellent schools; at Cupar there is the Bell-Baxter school; at Dunfermline and Kirkcaldy there are high schools and at Anstruther there is the Waid Academy.

Population and Government.—The population was 190,365 in 1891, and 218,840 in 1901, when 844 people spoke both Gaelic and English and 3 spoke only Gaelic. The main towns are the Anstruthers (pop. in 1901, 4,233), Buckhaven (8,828), Burntisland (4,846), Cowdenbeath (7,908), Cupar (4,511), Dunfermline (25,250), Dysart (3,562), Kelty (3,986), Kirkcaldy (34,079), Leslie (3,587), Leven (5,577), Lochgelly (5,472), Lumphinnans (2,071), Newport (2,869), St Andrews (7,621), Tayport (3,325), and Wemyss (2,522). For parliamentary purposes, Fife is split into an eastern and a western division, each electing one member. It also includes the Kirkcaldy district of parliamentary burghs (which includes Burntisland, Dysart, Kinghorn, and Kirkcaldy) and the St Andrews district (the two Anstruthers, Crail, Cupar, Kilrenny, Pittenweem, and St Andrews); while Culross, Dunfermline, and Inverkeithing are grouped with the Stirling district. As 331 for education, the county is governed by a school board, and for higher education, its facilities are effective. St Andrews has several excellent schools; at Cupar, there's the Bell-Baxter school; in Dunfermline and Kirkcaldy, there are high schools, and in Anstruther, there's the Waid Academy.

History.—In remote times the term Fife was applied to the peninsula lying between the estuaries of the Tay and Forth and separated from the rest of the mainland by the Ochil Hills. Its earliest inhabitants were Picts of the northern branch and their country was long known as Pictavia. Doubtless it was owing to the fact that the territory was long subject to the rule of an independent king that Fife itself came to be called distinctively The Kingdom, a name of which the natives are still proud. The Romans effected no settlement in the province, though it is probable that they temporarily occupied points here and there. In any case the Romans left no impression on the civilization of the natives. With the arrival of the missionaries—especially St Serf, St Kenneth, St Rule, St Adrian, St Moran and St Fillan—and conversion of the Picts went on apace. Interesting memorials of these devout missionaries exist in the numerous coast caves between Dysart and St Andrews and in the crosses and sculptured stones, some doubtless of pre-Christian origin, to be seen at various places. The word Fife, according to Skene, seems to be identical with the Jutland Fibh (pronounced Fife) meaning “forest,” and was probably first used by the Frisians to describe the country behind the coasts of the Forth and Tay, where Frisian tribes are supposed to have settled at the close of the 4th century. The next immigration was Danish, which left lasting traces in many place-names (such as the frequent use of law for hill). An ancient division of the Kingdom into Fife and Fothrif survived for a period for ecclesiastical purposes. The line of demarcation ran from Leven to the east of Cults, thence to the west of Collessie and thence to the east of Auchtermuchty. To the east of this line lay Fife proper. In 1426 the first shire of Kinross was formed, consisting of Kinross and Orwell, and was enlarged to its present dimensions by the transference from Fife of the parishes of Portmoak, Cleish and Tulliebole. Although the county has lain outside of the main stream of Scottish history, its records are far from dull or unimportant. During the reigns of the earlier Stuarts, Dunfermline, Falkland and St Andrews were often the scene of solemn pageantry and romantic episodes. Out of the seventy royal burghs in Scotland no fewer than eighteen are situated in the shire. However, notwithstanding the marked preference of the Stuarts, the Kingdom did not hesitate to play the leading part in the momentous dramas of the Reformation and the Covenant, and by the 18th century the people had ceased to regard the old royal line with any but sentimental interest, and the Jacobite risings of 1715 and 1745 evoked only the most lukewarm support.

History.—In ancient times, the term Fife referred to the peninsula between the estuaries of the Tay and Forth, separated from the rest of the mainland by the Ochil Hills. Its earliest inhabitants were the Picts from the northern region, whose land was long known as Pictavia. It’s likely that Fife became known as The Kingdom due to its long-standing rule under an independent king, a title its residents still take pride in. The Romans didn’t establish a settlement in the province, although they probably occupied some spots temporarily. Regardless, the Romans made no lasting impact on the native culture. With the arrival of missionaries—especially St Serf, St Kenneth, St Rule, St Adrian, St Moran, and St Fillan—the conversion of the Picts progressed rapidly. Interesting reminders of these devoted missionaries can be found in the many coastal caves between Dysart and St Andrews, as well as in the crosses and carved stones, some likely of pre-Christian origin, scattered throughout the area. According to Skene, the word Fife seems to be similar to the Jutland Fibh (pronounced Fife), meaning “forest,” and was probably first used by the Frisians to describe the land behind the coasts of the Forth and Tay, where Frisian tribes are believed to have settled at the end of the 4th century. The next wave of immigration was from the Danes, which left lasting influences in many place names (such as the common use of law for hill). An ancient division of the Kingdom into Fife and Fothrif lasted for some time for church purposes. The boundary ran from Leven to the east of Cults, then west of Collessie, and then east of Auchtermuchty. To the east of this line lay Fife proper. In 1426, the first shire of Kinross was created, which included Kinross and Orwell, and it expanded to its current size by incorporating the parishes of Portmoak, Cleish, and Tulliebole from Fife. Although the county has remained outside the main currents of Scottish history, its records are far from dull or unimportant. During the reigns of the early Stuarts, Dunfermline, Falkland, and St Andrews often hosted solemn ceremonies and romantic events. Out of the seventy royal burghs in Scotland, no fewer than eighteen are located in the shire. However, despite the Stuarts' marked preference, the Kingdom did not hesitate to take a leading role in the significant events of the Reformation and the Covenant. By the 18th century, the people had stopped viewing the old royal line with anything more than sentimental interest, and the Jacobite uprisings of 1715 and 1745 received only minimal support.

See Sir Robert Sibbald, History of the Sheriffdoms of Fife and Kinross; Rev. J.W. Taylor, Historical Antiquities of Fife (1875); A.H. Millar, Fife, Pictorial and Historical (Cupar, 1895); Sheriff Aeneas Mackay, sketch of the History of Fife (Edinburgh, 1890); History of Fife and Kinross (Scottish County History series) (Edinburgh, 1896); John Geddie, The Fringe of Fife (Edinburgh, 1894).

See Sir Robert Sibbald, History of the Sheriffdoms of Fife and Kinross; Rev. J.W. Taylor, Historical Antiquities of Fife (1875); A.H. Millar, Fife, Pictorial and Historical (Cupar, 1895); Sheriff Aeneas Mackay, sketch of the History of Fife (Edinburgh, 1890); History of Fife and Kinross (Scottish County History series) (Edinburgh, 1896); John Geddie, The Fringe of Fife (Edinburgh, 1894).


FIFE (Fr. fifre; Med. Ger. Schweizerpfeiff, Feldpfeiff; Ital. ottavino), originally the small primitive cylindrical transverse flute, now the small B♭ military flute, usually conoidal in bore, used in a drum and fife band. The pitch of the fife lies between that of the concert flute and piccolo. The fife, like the flute, is an open pipe, for although the upper end is stopped by means of a cork, an outlet is provided by the embouchure which is never entirely closed by the lips. The six finger-holes of the primitive flute, with the open end of the tube for a key-note, gave the diatonic scale of the fundamental octave; the second octave was produced by overblowing the notes of the fundamental scale an octave higher; part of a third octave was obtained by means of the higher harmonics produced by using certain of the finger-holes as vent-holes. The modern fife has, in addition to the six finger-holes, 4, 5 or 6 keys. Mersenne describes and figures the fife, which had in his day the compass of a fifteenth.1 The fife, which, he states, differed from the German flute only in having a louder and more brilliant tone and a shorter and narrower bore, was the instrument used by the Swiss with the drum. The sackbut, or serpent, was used as its bass, for, as Mersenne explains, the bass instrument could not be made long enough, nor could the hands reach the holes, although some flutes were actually made with keys and had the tube doubled back as in the bassoon.2

FIFE (Fr. fifre; Med. Ger. Schweizerpfeiff, Feldpfeiff; Ital. ottavino), originally the small, primitive cylindrical transverse flute, now refers to the small B♭ military flute, which typically has a conical shape and is used in drum and fife bands. The pitch of the fife is positioned between that of the concert flute and the piccolo. The fife, similar to the flute, is an open pipe, as the upper end is stopped by a cork, but there is an outlet provided by the embouchure, which is never completely sealed by the lips. The primitive flute had six finger-holes and an open end for the key-note, producing the diatonic scale of the fundamental octave; the second octave was created by overblowing notes from the fundamental scale an octave higher; part of a third octave was achieved through higher harmonics by using certain finger-holes as vent-holes. The modern fife, in addition to the six finger-holes, has 4, 5, or 6 keys. Mersenne describes and illustrates the fife, which in his time had a range of a fifteenth.1 According to him, the fife differed from the German flute only by having a louder and more brilliant tone and a shorter and narrower bore, and it was the instrument used by the Swiss alongside the drum. The sackbut or serpent served as its bass, as Mersenne explains that the bass instrument couldn't be made long enough or have holes within reach, although some flutes were designed with keys and had their tubes doubled back like a bassoon.2

The words fife and the Fr. fifre were undoubtedly derived from the Ger. Pfeiff, the fife being called by Praetorius3 Schweizerpfeiff and Feldpfeiff, while Martin Agricola,4 writing a century earlier (1529), mentions the transverse flute by the names of Querchpfeiff or Schweizerpfeiff, which Sebastian Virdung5 writes Zwerchpfeiff. The Old English spelling was phife, phiphe or ffyffe. The fife was in use in England in the middle of the 16th century, for at a muster of the citizens of London in 1540, droumes and ffyffes are mentioned. At the battle of St Quentin (1557) the list of the English army6 employed states that one trumpet was allowed to each cavalry troop of 100 men, and a drum and fife to each hundred of foot. A drumme and phife were also employed at one shilling per diem for the “Trayne of Artillery.”7 This was the nucleus of the modern military band, and may be regarded as the first step in its formation. In England the adoption of the fife as a military instrument was due to the initiative of Henry VIII., who sent to Vienna for ten good drums and as many fifers.8 Ralph Smith9 gives rules for drummers and fifers who, in addition to the duty of giving signals in peace and war to the company, were expected to be brave, secret and ingenious, and masters of several languages, for they were oft sent to parley with the enemy and were entrusted with honourable but dangerous missions. In 1585 the drum and fife formed part of the furniture for war among the companies of the city of London.10 Queen Elizabeth (according to Michaud, Biogr. universelle, tome xiii. p. 60) had a peculiar taste for noisy music, and during meals had a concert of twelve trumpets, two kettledrums, with fifes and drums. The fife became such a favourite military instrument during the 16th and 17th centuries in England that it displaced the bagpipe; it was, however, in turn superseded early in the 18th century by the hautboy (see Oboe), introduced from France. In the middle of the 18th century the fife was reintroduced into the British army band by the duke of Cumberland11 in the Guards in 1745, commemorated by William Hogarth’s picture of the “March of the Guards towards Scotland in 1745,” in which are seen a drummer and fifer; and by Colonel Bedford into the royal regiment of artillery in 1748, at the end of the war, when a Hanoverian fifer, John Ulrich, was brought over from Flanders as instructor.12 In 1747 the 19th regiment, known as Green Howards, also had the advantage of a Hanoverian fifer as teacher, a youth presented by his colonel to Lieutenant-Colonel Williams commanding the regiment at Bois-le-Duc. Drum and fife bands in a short time became common in all infantry regiments, while among the cavalry the trumpet prevailed.

The words fife and the French fifre obviously come from the German Pfeiff. Praetorius referred to the fife as Schweizerpfeiff and Feldpfeiff, while Martin Agricola, writing a century earlier (1529), mentioned the transverse flute by the names Querchpfeiff or Schweizerpfeiff, which Sebastian Virdung wrote as Zwerchpfeiff. The Old English spelling was phife, phiphe or ffyffe. The fife was used in England in the mid-16th century, for at a muster of the citizens of London in 1540, droumes and ffyffes are mentioned. At the battle of St Quentin (1557), the list of the English army states that one trumpet was allowed for each cavalry troop of 100 men, along with a drum and fife for each hundred infantry. A drum and phife were also employed at one shilling per day for the “Trayne of Artillery.” This was the foundation of the modern military band and can be seen as its first step in formation. In England, the adoption of the fife as a military instrument was initiated by Henry VIII, who sent to Vienna for ten good drums and as many fifers. Ralph Smith provided rules for drummers and fifers, who were expected to signal in both peace and war, as well as to be brave, discreet, clever, and fluent in several languages, as they were often sent to negotiate with the enemy and entrusted with honorable but risky missions. In 1585, the drum and fife became standard for war among the companies of the city of London. Queen Elizabeth (according to Michaud, Biogr. universelle, tome xiii. p. 60) had a particular liking for loud music and would have a concert of twelve trumpets, two kettledrums, along with fifes and drums during meals. The fife became such a popular military instrument in England during the 16th and 17th centuries that it replaced the bagpipe; however, it was in turn overtaken in the early 18th century by the hautboy (see Oboe), which was brought in from France. In the mid-18th century, the fife was reintroduced into the British army band by the Duke of Cumberland in the Guards in 1745, famously depicted in William Hogarth’s painting of the “March of the Guards towards Scotland in 1745,” which shows a drummer and fifer. Colonel Bedford also incorporated it into the royal artillery regiment in 1748, at the end of the war, when a Hanoverian fifer, John Ulrich, was brought over from Flanders as an instructor. In 1747, the 19th regiment, known as the Green Howards, also benefited from having a Hanoverian fifer as a teacher—a young man presented by his colonel to Lieutenant-Colonel Williams, who commanded the regiment at Bois-le-Duc. Soon after, drum and fife bands became common in all infantry regiments, while the trumpet continued to dominate among the cavalry.

For the acoustics, construction and origin of the fife see Flute. Illustrations of the fife may be seen in Cowdray’s picture of an encampment at Portsmouth in 1548; in Sandford’s “Coronation Procession of James II.,” and in C.R. Day’s Descriptive Catalogue, pl. i. (F) (description No. 42, p. 27).

For information on the acoustics, construction, and origin of the fife, see Flute. You can find illustrations of the fife in Cowdray’s painting of an encampment at Portsmouth in 1548, in Sandford’s “Coronation Procession of James II.,” and in C.R. Day’s Descriptive Catalogue, pl. i. (F) (description No. 42, p. 27).

(K. S.)

1 Harmonie universelle (Paris, 1636), bk. v. prop. 9, pp. 241-244.

1 Harmonie universelle (Paris, 1636), bk. v. prop. 9, pp. 241-244.

2 For an illustration of one of these bass flutes see article Flute, Fig. 2.

2 For an example of one of these bass flutes, check out article Flute, Fig. 2.

3 Syntagma musicum (Wolfenbüttel, 1618), pp. 40-41 of Reprint.

3 Syntagma musicum (Wolfenbüttel, 1618), pp. 40-41 of Reprint.

4 Musica instrumentalis (Wittenberg, 1529).

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Instrumental Music (Wittenberg, 1529).

5 Musica getutscht und auszgezogen (Basel, 1511).

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Music played and undressed (Basel, 1511).

6 See Sir S.D. Scott, The British Army, vol. ii. p. 396.

6 See Sir S.D. Scott, The British Army, vol. ii. p. 396.

7 See H.G. Farmer, Memoirs of the Royal Artillery Band (London, 1904).

7 See H.G. Farmer, Memoirs of the Royal Artillery Band (London, 1904).

8 Id.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ See above.

9 Id.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Id.

10 Stowe’s Chronicles, p. 702.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Stowe’s Chronicles, p. 702.

11 Grose, Military Antiquities (London, 1801), vol. ii.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Grose, Military Antiquities (London, 1801), vol. 2.

12 See Colonel P. Forbes Macbean, Memoirs of the Royal Regiment of Artillery.

12 Check out Colonel P. Forbes Macbean, Memoirs of the Royal Regiment of Artillery.


FIFTH MONARCHY MEN, the name of a Puritan sect in England which for a time supported the government of Oliver Cromwell in the belief that it was a preparation for the “fifth monarchy,” that is for the monarchy which should succeed the Assyrian, the Persian, the Greek and the Roman, and during which Christ should reign on earth with His saints for a thousand years. These sectaries aimed at bringing about the entire abolition of the existing laws and institutions, and the substitution of a simpler code based upon the law of Moses. Disappointed at the delay in the fulfilment of their hopes, they soon began to agitate against the government and to vilify Cromwell; but the arrest of their leaders and preachers, Christopher Feake, John Rogers and others, cooled their ardour, and they were, perforce, content to cherish their hopes in secret until after the Restoration. Then, on the 6th of January 1661, a band of fifth monarchy men, headed by a cooper named Thomas Venner, 332 who was one of their preachers, made an attempt to obtain possession of London. Most of them were either killed or taken prisoners, and on the 19th and 21st of January Venner and ten others were executed for high treason. From that time the special doctrines of the sect either died out, or became merged in a milder form of millenarianism, similar to that which exists at the present day.

Fifth Monarchists, was the name of a Puritan group in England that, for a while, supported Oliver Cromwell's government, believing it was a step toward the “fifth monarchy.” This refers to the monarchy that would follow the Assyrian, Persian, Greek, and Roman empires, during which Christ would rule on earth with His saints for a thousand years. These members aimed to completely eliminate the current laws and institutions and replace them with a simpler code based on the law of Moses. Frustrated by the delay in realizing their hopes, they began to oppose the government and criticize Cromwell; however, the arrest of their leaders and preachers, Christopher Feake, John Rogers, and others, dampened their enthusiasm. They were forced to keep their hopes alive in secret until after the Restoration. Then, on January 6, 1661, a group of fifth monarchy men, led by a cooper named Thomas Venner, one of their preachers, attempted to seize control of London. Most of them were either killed or captured, and on January 19 and 21, Venner and ten others were executed for high treason. After that, the unique beliefs of the sect either faded away or merged into a softer version of millenarianism, similar to what exists today. 332

For the proceedings of the sect see S.R. Gardiner, History of the Commonwealth and Protectorate, passim (London, 1894-1901); and for an account of the rising of 1661 see Sir John Reresby, Memoirs, 1634-1689, edited by J.J. Cartwright (London, 1875).

For the details on the sect, see S.R. Gardiner, History of the Commonwealth and Protectorate, passim (London, 1894-1901); and for information about the uprising in 1661, refer to Sir John Reresby, Memoirs, 1634-1689, edited by J.J. Cartwright (London, 1875).


FIG, the popular name given to plants of the genus Ficus, an extensive group, included in the natural order Moraceae, and characterized by a remarkable development of the pear-shaped receptacle, the edge of which curves inwards, so as to form a nearly closed cavity, bearing the numerous fertile and sterile flowers mingled on its surface. The figs vary greatly in habit,—some being low trailing shrubs, others gigantic trees, among the most striking forms of those tropical forests to which they are chiefly indigenous. They have alternate leaves, and abound in a milky juice, usually acrid, though in a few instances sufficiently mild to be used for allaying thirst. This juice contains caoutchouc in large quantity.

FIG, is the common name for plants in the genus Ficus, which is a large group belonging to the natural order Moraceae. They are known for their distinctive pear-shaped receptacle that curves inward, creating a nearly closed cavity where numerous fertile and sterile flowers are mixed on its surface. Figs come in various forms, from low, trailing shrubs to massive trees, and they are some of the most impressive species found in the tropical forests where they primarily grow. They have alternate leaves and are filled with a milky sap that is usually quite bitter, although in some cases, it can be mild enough to help quench thirst. This sap contains a significant amount of rubber.

Figure 1.—Fruiting Branch of Fig, Ficus Carica; about 27 nat. size.
1. Unripe fruit cut lengthwise; about ½ nat. size. 2. Female flower taken from 1; enlarged. 3. Ripe fruit cut lengthwise; about ½ nat. size.

Ficus Carica (figure 1), which yields the well-known figs of commerce, is a bush or small tree—rarely more than 18 or 20 ft. high,—with broad, rough, deciduous leaves, very deeply lobed in the cultivated varieties, but in the wild plant sometimes nearly entire. The green, rough branches bear the solitary, nearly sessile receptacles in the axils of the leaves. The male flowers are placed chiefly in the upper part of the cavity, and in most varieties are few in number. As it ripens, the receptacle enlarges greatly, and the numerous single-seeded pericarps or true fruits become imbedded in it. The fruit of the wild fig never acquires the succulence of the cultivated kinds. The fig seems to be indigenous to Asia Minor and Syria, but now occurs in a wild state in most of the countries around the Mediterranean. From the ease with which the nutritious fruit can be preserved, it was probably one of the earliest objects of cultivation, as may be inferred from the frequent allusions to it in the Hebrew Scriptures.1 From a passage in Herodotus the fig would seem to have been unknown to the Persians in the days of the first Cyrus; but it must have spread in remote ages over all the districts around the Aegean and Levant. The Greeks are said to have received it from Caria (hence the specific name); but the fruit so improved under Hellenic culture that Attic figs became celebrated throughout the East, and special laws were made to regulate their exportation. From the contemptuous name given to informers against the violation of those enactments, συκοφάνται (σῦκον, φαίνω), our word sycophant is usually derived. The fig was one of the principal articles of sustenance among the Greeks; the Spartans especially used it largely at their public tables. From Hellas, at some prehistoric period, it was transplanted to Italy and the adjacent islands. Pliny enumerates many varieties, and alludes to those from Ebusus (the modern Iviza) as most esteemed by Roman epicures; while he describes those of home growth as furnishing a large portion of the food of the slaves, particularly those employed in agriculture, by whom great quantities were eaten in the fresh state at the periods of fig-harvest. In Latin myths the plant plays an important part. Held sacred to Bacchus, it was employed in religious ceremonies; and the fig-tree that overshadowed the twin founders of Rome in the wolf’s cave, as an emblem of the future prosperity of the race, testified to the high value set upon the fruit by the nations of antiquity. The tree is now cultivated in all the Mediterranean countries, but the larger portion of our supply of figs comes from Asia Minor, the Spanish Peninsula and the south of France. Those of Asiatic Turkey are considered the best. The varieties are extremely numerous, and the fruit is of various colours, from deep purple to yellow, or nearly white. The trees usually bear two crops,—one in the early summer from the buds of the last year, the other in the autumn from those on the spring growth; the latter forms the chief harvest. Many of the immature receptacles drop off from imperfect fertilization, which circumstance has led, from very ancient times, to the practice of caprification.2 Branches of the wild fig in flower are placed over the cultivated bushes. Certain hymenopterous insects, of the genera Blastophaga and Sycophaga, which frequent the wild fig, enter the minute orifice of the receptacle, apparently to deposit their eggs; conveying thus the pollen more completely to the stigmas, they ensure the fertilization and consequent ripening of the fruit. By some the nature of the process has been questioned, and the better maturation of the fruit attributed merely to the stimulus given by the puncture of the insect, as in the case of the apple; but the arrangement of the unisexual flowers in the fig renders the first theory the more probable. In some districts a straw or small twig is thrust into the receptacle with a similar object. When ripe the figs are picked, and spread out to dry in the sun,—those of better quality being much pulled and extended by hand during the process. Thus prepared, the fruit is packed closely in barrels, rush baskets, or wooden boxes, for commerce. The best kind, known as elemi, are shipped at Smyrna, where the 333 pulling and packing of figs form one of the most important industries of the people.

Ficus Carica (figure 1), which produces the well-known figs sold in stores, is a bush or small tree that rarely grows more than 18 or 20 ft high. It has broad, rough, deciduous leaves that are very deeply lobed in cultivated varieties, but sometimes nearly entire in the wild plant. The green, rough branches bear solitary, almost stalkless receptacles in the axils of the leaves. The male flowers are mainly found in the upper part of the cavity and are few in number in most varieties. As it ripens, the receptacle expands significantly, and the numerous tiny, single-seeded pericarps or true fruits become embedded inside it. The fruit of the wild fig never achieves the tenderness of the cultivated types. The fig is believed to be native to Asia Minor and Syria, but it now grows wild in most countries around the Mediterranean. Due to the ease of preserving the nutritious fruit, it was probably one of the first cultivated plants, as suggested by frequent references in the Hebrew Scriptures.1 A passage from Herodotus suggests that the fig was unknown to the Persians in the time of the first Cyrus. However, it must have spread across all the regions around the Aegean and Levant in ancient times. The Greeks are said to have brought it from Caria (hence the specific name); under Hellenic cultivation, the fruit improved so much that Attic figs became famous throughout the East, leading to special laws regulating their exportation. From the derogatory term given to informers about violations of these laws, συκοφάντες (fig, showing), our word sycophant is generally derived. The fig was a key food source among the Greeks, especially consumed by the Spartans at their public tables. It was transplanted from Greece to Italy and the adjacent islands at some prehistoric point. Pliny lists many varieties and mentions that those from Ebusus (modern Iviza) were highly valued by Roman epicures; he describes homegrown figs as providing a significant part of the food for slaves, particularly those in agriculture, who consumed large quantities fresh during the fig harvest. The fig plays a significant role in Latin myths. Considered sacred to Bacchus, it was used in religious ceremonies, and the fig tree that shaded the twin founders of Rome in the wolf’s cave symbolized the future prosperity of the race, demonstrating the high value placed on the fruit by ancient cultures. The tree is now grown in all Mediterranean countries, but most of our fig supply comes from Asia Minor, the Spanish Peninsula, and southern France. The figs from Asia Minor are regarded as the best. There are numerous varieties, with fruit ranging in color from deep purple to yellow or nearly white. The trees typically produce two crops—one in early summer from last year's buds and another in autumn from the spring growth; the latter is the primary harvest. Many immature receptacles fall off due to incomplete fertilization, which has led to the ancient practice of caprification.2 Branches of the wild fig in bloom are placed over the cultivated bushes. Specific hymenopterous insects from the genera Blastophaga and Sycophaga, which visit the wild fig, enter the small opening of the receptacle, apparently to lay their eggs; by doing so, they more effectively transfer pollen to the stigmas, ensuring the fertilization and subsequent ripening of the fruit. Some question the exact nature of this process, attributing better fruit maturation solely to the stimulus of the insect’s puncture, similar to what occurs with apples; however, the arrangement of unisexual flowers in the fig makes the first explanation more likely. In some areas, a straw or small twig is inserted into the receptacle for a similar purpose. When ripe, the figs are picked and laid out to dry in the sun, with higher-quality figs being stretched and pulled by hand during this process. Once prepared, the fruit is packed tightly into barrels, rush baskets, or wooden boxes for shipment. The best type, known as elemi, is transported from Smyrna, where the 333 pulling and packing of figs is one of the most important industries for the local people.

This fruit still constitutes a large part of the food of the natives of western Asia and southern Europe, both in the fresh and dried state. A sort of cake made by mashing up the inferior kinds serves in parts of the Archipelago as a substitute for bread. Alcohol is obtained from fermented figs in some southern countries; and a kind of wine, still made from the ripe fruit, was known to the ancients, and mentioned by Pliny under the name of sycites. Medicinally the fig is employed as a gentle laxative, when eaten abundantly often proving useful in chronic constipation; it forms a part of the well-known “confection of senna.” The milky juice of the stems and leaves is very acrid, and has been used in some countries for raising blisters. The wood is porous and of little value; though a piece, saturated with oil and spread with emery, is in France a common substitute for a hone.

This fruit is still a major part of the diet for people in western Asia and southern Europe, both fresh and dried. In some island regions, a type of cake made from the lower-quality varieties is used as a bread substitute. In certain southern countries, alcohol is made from fermented figs, and a type of wine made from the ripe fruit was known to the ancients and mentioned by Pliny as sycites. Medically, figs are used as a mild laxative; when eaten in large quantities, they can be helpful for chronic constipation, and they are included in the well-known “confection of senna.” The milky sap from the stems and leaves is very irritating and has been used in some areas to create blisters. The wood is porous and not very valuable, although a piece soaked in oil and coated with emery is a common substitute for a hone in France.

The fig is grown for its fresh fruit (eaten as an article of dessert) in all the milder parts of Europe, and in the United States, with protection in winter, succeeds as far north as Pennsylvania. The fig was introduced into England by Cardinal Pole, from Italy, early in the 16th century. It lives to a great age, and along the southern coast of England bears fruit abundantly as a standard; but in Scotland and in many parts of England a south wall is indispensable for its successful cultivation out of doors.

The fig is cultivated for its fresh fruit (enjoyed as a dessert) in all the warmer regions of Europe and in the United States, where it can thrive as far north as Pennsylvania with winter protection. The fig was brought to England by Cardinal Pole from Italy in the early 16th century. It can live for many years and grows fruitfully along the southern coast of England as a standard tree. However, in Scotland and many areas of England, a south-facing wall is essential for successfully growing it outdoors.

Fig trees are propagated by cuttings, which should be put into pots, and placed in a gentle hotbed. They may be obtained more speedily from layers, which should consist of two or three years old shoots, and these, when rooted, will form plants ready to bear fruit the first or second year after planting. The best soil for a fig border is a friable loam, not too rich, but well drained; a chalky subsoil is congenial to the tree, and, to correct the tendency to over-luxuriance of growth, the roots should be confined within spaces surrounded by a wall enclosing an area of about a square yard. The sandy soil of Argenteuil, near Paris, suits the fig remarkably well; but the best trees are those which grow in old quarries, where their roots are free from stagnant water, and where they are sheltered from cold, while exposed to a very hot sun, which ripens the fruit perfectly. The fig succeeds well planted in a paved court against a building with a south aspect.

Fig trees are grown from cuttings, which should be placed in pots and set in a warm environment. They can also be propagated more quickly using layers from shoots that are two or three years old, and once these are rooted, they will produce fruit in the first or second year after being planted. The ideal soil for planting figs is a loose loam, which isn't too rich but drains well. A chalky subsoil is suitable for the tree, and to prevent excessive growth, the roots should be restricted to an area enclosed by a wall of about a square yard. The sandy soil in Argenteuil, near Paris, is particularly good for figs, but the best trees grow in old quarries, where their roots are free from standing water and protected from cold while receiving plenty of hot sun to ripen the fruit perfectly. Fig trees also thrive when planted against a south-facing wall in a paved courtyard.

The fig tree naturally produces two sets of shoots and two crops of fruit in the season. The first shoots generally show young figs in July and August, but these in the climate of England very seldom ripen, and should therefore be rubbed off. The late or midsummer shoots likewise put forth fruit-buds, which, however, do not develop themselves till the following spring; and these form the only crop of figs on which the British gardener can depend.

The fig tree naturally produces two sets of branches and two harvests of fruit in a season. The first branches usually show young figs in July and August, but in the climate of England, these rarely ripen and should be removed. The late or midsummer branches also produce fruit buds, but these don’t develop until the next spring; and this is the only crop of figs that British gardeners can rely on.

The fig tree grown as a standard should get very little pruning, the effect of cutting being to stimulate the buds to push shoots too vigorous for bearing. When grown against a wall, it has been recommended that a single stem should be trained to the height of a foot. Above this a shoot should be trained to the right, and another to the left; from these principals two other subdivisions should be encouraged, and trained 15 in. apart; and along these branches, at distances of about 8 in., shoots for bearing, as nearly as possible of equal vigour, should be encouraged. The bearing shoots produced along the leading branches should be trained in at full length, and in autumn every alternate one should be cut back to one eye. In the following summer the trained shoots should bear and ripen fruit, and then be cut back in autumn to one eye, while shoots from the bases of those cut back the previous autumn should be trained for succession. In this way every leading branch will be furnished alternately with bearing and successional shoots.

The fig tree grown as a standard needs very little pruning because cutting stimulates the buds to produce shoots that are too strong for fruiting. When it's grown against a wall, it's recommended to train a single stem to about a foot high. Above this, one shoot should be trained to the right and another to the left; from these main branches, two additional limbs should be encouraged and spaced 15 inches apart. Along these branches, shoots for bearing should be encouraged at distances of about 8 inches apart, ideally of similar strength. The bearing shoots along the main branches should be trained in fully, and in the autumn, every other one should be cut back to one eye. The following summer, the trained shoots should bear and ripen fruit, after which they should be cut back in autumn to one eye, while new shoots from the bases of those trimmed the previous autumn should be trained for succession. This way, each main branch will have alternating bearing and succession shoots.

When protection is necessary, as it may be in severe winters, though it is too often provided in excess, spruce branches have been found to answer the purpose exceedingly well, owing to the fact that their leaves drop off gradually when the weather becomes milder in spring, and when the trees require less protection and more light and air. The principal part requiring protection is the main stem, which is more tender than the young wood.

When protection is needed, especially during harsh winters, it's often provided more than necessary. Spruce branches have proven to be very effective for this purpose because their needles fall off gradually as the weather gets warmer in spring, which is when the trees need less protection and more light and air. The main part that needs protection is the main stem, which is more delicate than the young wood.

In forcing, the fig requires more heat than the vine to bring it into leaf. It may be subjected to a temperature of 50° at night, and from 60° to 65 ° C in the day, and this should afterwards be increased to 60° and 65° by night, and 70° to 75° by day, or even higher by sun heat, giving plenty of air at the same time. In this temperature the evaporation from the leaves is very great, and this must be replaced and the wants of the swelling fruit supplied by daily watering, by syringing the foliage, and by moistening the floor, this atmospheric moisture being also necessary to keep down the red spider. When the crop begins to ripen, a moderately dry atmosphere should be maintained, with abundant ventilation when the weather permits.

In forcing, the fig needs more heat than the vine to start growing leaves. It can be kept at a nighttime temperature of 50°F and between 60°F to 65°F during the day, which should then be raised to 60°F and 65°F at night, and 70°F to 75°F during the day, or even higher if there's sun heat, while also ensuring good air circulation. At this temperature, the evaporation from the leaves is quite significant, so it’s important to replace what’s lost and meet the needs of the growing fruit with daily watering, misting the leaves, and dampening the floor. This moisture in the air is also necessary to control the red spider. Once the crop starts to ripen, it’s best to create a moderately dry atmosphere with plenty of ventilation whenever the weather allows.

The fig tree is easily cultivated in pots, and by introducing the plants into heat in succession the fruiting season may be considerably extended. The plants should be potted in turfy loam mixed with charcoal and old mortar rubbish, and in summer top-dressings of rotten manure, with manure water two or three times a week, will be beneficial. While the fruit is swelling, the pots should be plunged in a bed of fermenting leaves.

The fig tree is easy to grow in pots, and by moving the plants into warmth one after another, you can significantly extend the fruiting season. The plants should be potted in a mix of turf-based soil, charcoal, and old mortar debris. In summer, adding layers of decomposed manure and using manure water two or three times a week will help. While the fruit is developing, the pots should be buried in a pile of decomposing leaves.

The following are a few of the best figs; those marked F, are good forcing sorts, and those marked W. suitable for walls:—

The following are some of the best figs; those marked F are good for forcing, and those marked W are suitable for walls:—

Agen: brownish-green, turbinate.

Agen: brownish-green, rounded.

Brown Ischia, F.: chestnut-coloured, roundish-turbinate.

Brown Ischia, F.: chestnut-colored, roundish-turbinate.

Brown Turkey (Lee’s Perpetual), F., W.: purplish-brown, turbinate.

Brown Turkey (Lee’s Perpetual), F., W.: purplish-brown, cone-shaped.

Brunswick, W.: brownish-green, pyriform.

Brunswick, W.: brownish-green, pear-shaped.

Col di Signora Bianca, F.: greenish-yellow, pyriform.

Col di Signora Bianca, F.: greenish-yellow, pear-shaped.

Col di Signora Nero: dark chocolate, pyriform.

Col di Signora Nero: dark chocolate, pear-shaped.

Early Violet, F.: brownish-purple, roundish.

Early Violet, F.: brownish-purple, round.

Grizzly Bourjassotte: chocolate, round.

Grizzly Bourjassotte: chocolate, round.

Grosse Monstreuse de Lipari: pale chestnut, turbinate.

Grosse Monstreuse de Lipari: light brown, round-shaped.

Negro Largo, F.: black, long pyriform.

Negro Largo, F.: black, long pear-shaped.

White Ischia, F.: greenish-yellow, roundish-obovate.

White Ischia, F.: greenish-yellow, roundish-oval.

White Marseilles, F., W.: pale green, roundish-obovate.

White Marseilles, F., W.: light green, roundish-oval.

The sycamore fig, Ficus Sycomorus, is a tree of large size, with heart-shaped leaves, which, from their fancied resemblance to those of the mulberry, gave origin to the name Συκόμορος. From the deep shade cast by its spreading branches, it is a favourite tree in Egypt and Syria, being often planted along roads and near houses. It bears a sweet edible fruit, somewhat like that of the common fig, but produced in racemes on the older boughs. The apex of the fruit is sometimes removed, or an incision made in it, to induce earlier ripening. The ancients, after soaking it in water, preserved it like the common fig. The porous wood is only fit for fuel.

The sycamore fig, Ficus Sycomorus, is a large tree with heart-shaped leaves that resemble those of the mulberry, which is how it got its name Sycamore. Because of the deep shade created by its wide branches, it’s a popular tree in Egypt and Syria, often planted along roads and near homes. It produces a sweet, edible fruit that is somewhat similar to the common fig, but it grows in clusters on the older branches. Sometimes, the tip of the fruit is removed or cut to help it ripen faster. In ancient times, after soaking it in water, people preserved it like the common fig. The wood is porous and only suitable for fuel.

Figure 2.—India-rubber Tree, Ficus elastica, showing spreading woody roots.

The sacred fig, peepul, or bo, Ficus religiosa, a large tree with heart-shaped, long-pointed leaves on slender footstalks, is much grown in southern Asia. The leaves are used for tanning, and afford lac, and a gum resembling caoutchouc is obtained from the juice; but in India it is chiefly planted with a religious object, being regarded as sacred by both Brahmans and Buddhists. The former believe that the last avatar of Vishnu took place beneath its shade. A gigantic bo, described by Sir J. Emerson Tennent as growing near Anarajapoora, in Ceylon, is, if tradition may be trusted, one of the oldest trees in the world. It is said to have been a branch of the tree under which Gautama Buddha became endued with his divine powers, and has always been held in the greatest veneration. The figs, however, hold as important a place in the religious fables of the East as the ash in the myths of Scandinavia.

The sacred fig, peepul, or bo, Ficus religiosa, is a large tree with heart-shaped, long-pointed leaves on slender stalks, commonly found in southern Asia. The leaves are used for tanning, provide lac, and a gum that resembles rubber is extracted from the juice. However, in India, it is primarily planted for religious reasons, as it is considered sacred by both Brahmins and Buddhists. The former believe that the last incarnation of Vishnu occurred beneath its shade. A massive bo tree, noted by Sir J. Emerson Tennent as growing near Anarajapoora in Ceylon, is believed, if tradition holds true, to be one of the oldest trees in the world. It is said to be a branch of the tree under which Gautama Buddha gained his divine powers and has always been held in high reverence. The figs also play a significant role in the religious tales of the East, just as the ash does in the myths of Scandinavia.

Ficus elastica, the India-rubber tree (figure 2), the large, oblong, glossy leaves, and pink buds of which are so familiar in our greenhouses, furnishes most of the caoutchouc obtained from the East Indies. It grows to a large size, and is remarkable 334 for the snake-like roots that extend in contorted masses around the base of the trunk. The small fruit is unfit for food.

Ficus elastica, the India rubber tree (figure 2), with its large, oblong, shiny leaves and pink buds that we often see in our greenhouses, provides most of the rubber sourced from the East Indies. It can grow quite large and is notable for its snake-like roots that twist and turn around the base of the trunk. The small fruit is not edible.

Ficus bengalensis, or the Banyan, wild in parts of northern India, but generally planted throughout the country, has a woody stem, branching to a height of 70 to 100 ft. and of vast extent with heart-shaped entire leaves terminating in acute points. Every branch from the main body throws out its own roots, at first in small tender fibres, several yards from the ground; but these continually grow thicker until they reach the surface, when they strike in, increase to large trunks, and become parent trees, shooting out new branches from the top, which again in time suspend their roots, and these, swelling into trunks, produce other branches, the growth continuing as long as the earth contributes her sustenance. On the bank’s of the Nerbudda stood a celebrated tree of this kind, which is supposed to be that described by Nearchus, the admiral of Alexander the Great. This tree once covered an area so immense, that it was known to shelter no fewer than 7000 men, and though much reduced in size by the destructive power of the floods, the remainder was described by James Forbes (1749-1819), in his Oriental Memoirs (1813-1815) as nearly 2000 ft. in circumference, while the trunks large and small exceeded 3000 in number. The tree usually grows from seeds dropped by birds on other trees. The leaf-axil of a palm forms a frequent receptacle for their growth, the palm becoming ultimately strangled by the growth of the fig, which by this time has developed numerous daughter stems which continue to expand and cover ultimately a large area. The famous tree in the Royal Botanic Gardens, Calcutta, began its growth at the end of the 18th century on a sacred date-palm. In 1907 it had nearly 250 aerial roots, the parent trunk was 42 ft. in girth, and its leafy crown had a circumference of 857 ft.; and it was still growing vigorously. Both this tree and F. religiosa cause destruction to buildings, especially in Bengal, from seeds dropped by birds germinating on the walls. The tree yields an inferior rubber, and a coarse rope is prepared from the bark and from the aerial roots.

Ficus bengalensis, commonly known as the Banyan tree, grows wild in parts of northern India but is usually planted all over the country. It has a woody trunk that can branch out to a height of 70 to 100 feet and covers a vast area with heart-shaped leaves that end in sharp points. Each branch from the main trunk sends down its own roots, initially sprouting as delicate fibers several yards above the ground. These roots grow thicker over time until they reach the surface, where they dig in, grow into large trunks, and become parent trees. New branches shoot out from the tops, which eventually drop their own roots that swell into trunks, producing more branches, and this growth continues as long as the earth provides nutrients. A famous tree of this kind stood on the banks of the Nerbudda River and is believed to be the one described by Nearchus, the admiral of Alexander the Great. This tree once covered such a vast area that it could shelter at least 7,000 people, and although it has shrunk significantly due to flood damage, James Forbes (1749-1819) described the remaining part in his Oriental Memoirs (1813-1815) as nearly 2,000 feet around, with the total number of trunks, large and small, exceeding 3,000. The tree typically grows from seeds dropped by birds onto other trees. The leaf axil of a palm tree often serves as a space for their growth, ultimately leading to the palm being smothered by the fig's roots, which develop numerous offspring stems that expand and cover a large area. The renowned tree in the Royal Botanic Gardens in Calcutta started growing in the late 18th century on a sacred date-palm. By 1907, it had nearly 250 aerial roots, the main trunk measured 42 feet in circumference, and its leafy crown had a circumference of 857 feet; it was still growing vigorously. Both this tree and F. religiosa can cause damage to buildings in Bengal, as seeds dropped by birds germinate on walls. The tree produces a low-quality rubber, and a rough rope can be made from its bark and aerial roots.


1 Of these the case of the Barren Fig-tree (Mark. xi. 12-14, 20-21: compare Matt. xxi. 18-20), which Jesus cursed and which then withered away, has been much discussed among theologians. The difficulty is in Mark xi. 13: “And seeing a fig-tree afar off having leaves, he came, if haply he might find anything thereon; and when he came to it he found nothing but leaves, for the time of figs was not yet.” These last words obviously raise the question whether the expectation of Jesus of finding figs, and his cursing of the tree on finding none, were not unreasonable. Many ingenious solutions have been propounded, by suggested emendations of the text and otherwise, for which consult M’Clintock and Strong’s Cyclopaedia of Biblical Literature (sub “Fig”) and the Encyclopaedia Biblica (“Fig-tree”); the former demurs to the unreasonableness, and contends that the appearance of the leaves at this season (March) indicated a pretentious precocity in this particular fig-tree, so that Jesus was entitled to expect that it would also have fruit, even though the season had not arrived; the Ency. Biblica, on the other hand, supposes that some “early Christian,” confounding parable with history, has misunderstood the parable in Luke xiii. 6-9, and, forgetting that the season was not one for figs, has transformed it here into the narrative of an act of Jesus. The probability seems to be that the words “for the time of figs was not yet” are an unintelligent gloss by an early reader, which has made its way into the text. For authorities see the works mentioned above.

1 Among these, the story of the Barren Fig-tree (Mark 11:12-14, 20-21; compare Matt 21:18-20) is one that has sparked much debate among theologians. The challenge lies in Mark 11:13: “And seeing a fig tree from a distance with leaves, he went to see if he might find anything on it; and when he got there, he found nothing but leaves, for the time for figs had not yet come.” These words clearly raise the question of whether Jesus's expectation to find figs and his cursing of the tree for not having any were unreasonable. Many clever explanations have been suggested, including proposed changes to the text and other interpretations. For more on this, refer to M’Clintock and Strong’s Cyclopaedia of Biblical Literature (sub “Fig”) and the Encyclopaedia Biblica (“Fig-tree”); the former disagrees with the idea that it was unreasonable, arguing that the appearance of the leaves at this time (March) indicated an early growth in this particular fig tree, making it reasonable for Jesus to expect fruit even if the season hadn’t officially arrived. The Ency. Biblica, on the other hand, suggests that some early Christian, mixing up parable with history, misinterpreted the parable in Luke 13:6-9 and, overlooking that it wasn't the season for figs, turned it into a narrative about Jesus's actions. It seems likely that the phrase “for the time for figs had not yet come” is an uninformed commentary by an early reader that found its way into the text. For more details, see the works referenced above.

2 From Lat. caprificus, a wild fig; O. Eng. caprifig.

2 From Latin caprificus, a wild fig; Old English caprifig.


FIGARO, a famous dramatic character first introduced on the stage by Beaumarchais in the Barbier de Séville, the Mariage de Figaro, and the Folle Journée. The name is said to be an old Spanish and Italian word for a wigmaker, connected with the verb cigarrar, to roll in paper. Many of the traits of the character are to be found in earlier comic types of the Roman and Italian stage, but as a whole the conception was marked by great originality; and Figaro soon, seized the popular imagination, and became the recognized representative of daring, clever and nonchalant roguery and intrigue. Almost immediately after its appearance, Mozart chose the Marriage of Figaro as the subject of an opera, and the Barber of Seville was treated first by Paisiello, and afterwards in 1816 by Rossini. In 1826 the name of the witty rogue was taken by a journal which continued till 1833 to be one of the principal Parisian periodicals, numbering among its contributors such men as Jules Janin, Paul Lacroix, Léon Gozlan, Alphonse Karr, Dr Veron, Jules Sandeau and George Sand. Various abortive attempts were made to restore the Figaro during the next twenty years; and in 1854 the efforts of M. de Villemessant were crowned with success (see Newspapers: France).

FIGARO, a well-known dramatic character first introduced on stage by Beaumarchais in the Barber of Seville, the Marriage of Figaro, and the Folle Journée. The name is believed to be an old Spanish and Italian term for a wigmaker, linked to the verb cigarrar, meaning to roll in paper. Many of the character's traits can be found in earlier comedic types from the Roman and Italian stage, but overall, the concept was highly original; Figaro quickly captured the public's imagination and became a symbol of bold, clever, and laid-back scheming and intrigue. Almost immediately after his debut, Mozart selected the Marriage of Figaro as the theme for an opera, while the Barber of Seville was first adapted by Paisiello and later in 1816 by Rossini. In 1826, the witty rogue's name was adopted by a journal that remained one of the main Parisian periodicals until 1833, featuring contributors like Jules Janin, Paul Lacroix, Léon Gozlan, Alphonse Karr, Dr. Veron, Jules Sandeau, and George Sand. Various unsuccessful attempts were made to revive the Figaro over the next twenty years, and in 1854, M. de Villemessant’s efforts finally succeeded (see Newspapers: France).

See Marc Monnier, Les Aieux de Figaro (1868); H. de Villemessant, Mémoires d’un journaliste (1867).

See Marc Monnier, Les Aieux de Figaro (1868); H. de Villemessant, Mémoires d’un journaliste (1867).


FIGEAC, a town of south-western France, capital of an arrondissement in the department of Lot, 47 m. E.N.E. of Cahors on the Orléans railway. Pop. (1906) 4330. It is enclosed by an amphitheatre of wooded and vine-clad hills, on the right bank of the Célé, which is here crossed by an old bridge. It is ill-built and the streets are narrow and dirty; on the outskirts shady boulevards have taken the place of the ramparts by which it was surrounded. The town is very rich in old houses of the 13th and 14th centuries; among them may be mentioned the Hôtel de Balène, of the 14th century, used as a prison. Another house, dating from the 15th century, was the birthplace of the Egyptologist J.F. Champollion, in memory of whom the town has erected an obelisk. The principal church is that of St Sauveur, which once belonged to the abbey of Figeac. It was built at the beginning of the 12th century, but restored later; the façade in particular is modern. Notre-Dame du Puy, in the highest part of the town, belongs to the 12th and 13th centuries. It has no transept and its aisles extend completely round the interior. The altar-screen is a fine example of carved woodwork of the end of the 17th century. Of the four obelisks which used to mark the limits of the authority of the abbots of Figeac, those to the south and the west of the town remain. Figeac is the seat of a subprefect and has a tribunal of first instance, and a communal college. Brewing, tanning, printing, cloth-weaving and the manufacture of agricultural implements are among the industries. Trade is in cattle, leather, wool, plums, walnuts and grain, and there are zinc mines in the neighbourhood.

FIGEAC, is a town in southwestern France, the capital of an arrondissement in the Lot department, located 47 miles E.N.E. of Cahors on the Orléans railway. Population (1906) was 4,330. It’s surrounded by an amphitheater of wooded hills and vineyards, sitting on the right bank of the Célé, which is crossed by an old bridge. The town is poorly constructed, with narrow and dirty streets; on the outskirts, shady boulevards have replaced the old ramparts. Figeac is rich in medieval architecture, featuring many houses from the 13th and 14th centuries, including the Hôtel de Balène from the 14th century, which was used as a prison. Another house from the 15th century was the birthplace of Egyptologist J.F. Champollion, commemorated by an obelisk erected by the town. The main church is St. Sauveur, which previously belonged to the Figeac abbey. It was built in the early 12th century but has been restored since; the façade is notably modern. Notre-Dame du Puy, located in the highest part of the town, dates from the 12th and 13th centuries. It lacks a transept, and its aisles wrap fully around the interior. The altar screen is a beautiful example of late 17th-century wood carving. Of the four obelisks that once marked the boundaries of the abbots' authority, only the ones to the south and west remain. Figeac serves as the seat of a subprefect and has a first-instance tribunal and a communal college. Local industries include brewing, tanning, printing, cloth weaving, and manufacturing agricultural tools. Trade involves cattle, leather, wool, plums, walnuts, and grain, and there are zinc mines nearby.

Figeac grew up round an abbey founded by Pippin the Short in the 8th century, and throughout the middle ages it was the property of the monks. At the end of the 16th century the lordship was acquired by King Henry IV.’s minister, the duke of Sully, who sold it to Louis XIII. in 1622.

Figeac grew up around an abbey founded by Pippin the Short in the 8th century, and throughout the Middle Ages, it was owned by the monks. At the end of the 16th century, the lordship was acquired by King Henry IV's minister, the Duke of Sully, who sold it to Louis XIII in 1622.


FIGUEIRA DA FOZ, or Figueira, a seaport of central Portugal, in the district of Coimbra, formerly included in the province of Beira; on the north bank of the river Mondego, at its mouth, and at the terminus of the Lisbon-Figueira and Guarda-Figueira railways. Pop. (1900) 6221. Figueira da Foz is an important fishing-station, and one of the headquarters of the coasting trade in grain, fruit, wine, olive oil, cork and coal; but owing to the bar at the mouth of the Mondego large ships cannot enter. Glass is manufactured, and the city attracts many visitors by its excellent climate and sea-bathing. A residential suburb, the Bairro Novo, exists chiefly for their accommodation, to the north-west of the old town. Figueira is connected by a tramway running 4 m. N. W. with Buarcos (pop. 5033) and with the coal-mines of Cape Mondego. Lavos (pop. 7939), on the south bank of the Mondego, was the principal landing-place of the British troops which came, in 1808, to take part in the Peninsular War. Figueira da Foz received the title and privileges of city by a decree dated the 20th of September 1882.

FIGUEIRA DA FOZ, or Figueira, is a seaport in central Portugal, located in the Coimbra district, historically part of the Beira province. It's situated on the north bank of the Mondego River at its mouth and is the endpoint of the Lisbon-Figueira and Guarda-Figueira railways. The population in 1900 was 6,221. Figueira da Foz serves as a significant fishing hub and is one of the main centers for coastal trade in grain, fruit, wine, olive oil, cork, and coal. However, large ships cannot enter due to the bar at the mouth of the Mondego. The city has glass manufacturing, and its great climate and sea-bathing attract many visitors. There is a residential suburb, Bairro Novo, mainly to accommodate these visitors, located to the north-west of the old town. Figueira is linked by a tramway that runs 4 miles north-west to Buarcos (population 5,033) and to the coal mines of Cape Mondego. Lavos (population 7,939), on the south bank of the Mondego, was the primary landing spot for British troops in 1808 during the Peninsular War. Figueira da Foz was granted city status and privileges by a decree dated September 20, 1882.


FIGUERAS, a town of north-eastern Spain, in the province of Gerona, 14 m. S. of the French frontier, on the Barcelona-Perpignan railway. Pop. (1900) 10,714. Figueras is built at the foot of the Pyrenees, and on the northern edge of El Ampurdan, a fertile and well-irrigated plain, which produces wine, olives and rice, and derives its name from the seaport of Ampurias, the ancient Emporiae. The castle of San Fernando, 1 m. N.W., is an irregular pentagonal structure, built by order of Ferdinand VI. (1746-1759), on the site of a Capuchin convent. Owing to its situation, and the rocky nature of the ground over which a besieger must advance, it is still serviceable as the key to the frontier. It affords accommodation for 16,000 men and is well provided with bomb-proof cover. In 1794 Figueras was surrendered to the French, but it was regained in 1795. During the Peninsular War it was taken by the French in 1808, recaptured by the Spaniards in 1811, and retaken by the French in the same year. In 1823, after a long defence, it was once more captured by the French. An annual pilgrimage from Figueras to the chapel of Nuestra Señora de Requesens, 15 m. N., commemorates the deliverance of the town from a severe epidemic of fever in 1612.

FIGUERAS, a town in northeastern Spain, in the province of Gerona, 14 miles south of the French border, on the Barcelona-Perpignan railway. Population (1900) 10,714. Figueras is located at the foot of the Pyrenees, on the northern edge of El Ampurdan, a fertile and well-irrigated plain that produces wine, olives, and rice. The name comes from the nearby seaport of Ampurias, the ancient Emporiae. The castle of San Fernando, 1 mile northwest, is an irregular pentagonal structure built by order of Ferdinand VI. (1746-1759) on the site of a Capuchin convent. Due to its location and the rocky terrain that a besieger must navigate, it remains key to the frontier. It can accommodate 16,000 men and is well-equipped with bomb-proof shelters. In 1794, Figueras fell to the French, but it was recovered in 1795. During the Peninsular War, the French captured it in 1808, the Spaniards recaptured it in 1811, and it was retaken by the French the same year. In 1823, after a lengthy defense, it was again captured by the French. An annual pilgrimage from Figueras to the chapel of Nuestra Señora de Requesens, 15 miles north, commemorates the town’s recovery from a severe fever epidemic in 1612.


FIGULUS, PUBLIUS NIGIDIUS (c. 98-45 B.C.), Roman savant, next to Varro the most learned Roman of the age. He was a friend of Cicero, to whom he gave his support at the time of the Catilinarian conspiracy (Plutarch, Cicero, 20; Cicero, Pro Sulla, xiv. 42). In 58 he was praetor, sided with Pompey in the Civil War, and after his defeat was banished by Caesar, and died in exile. According to Cicero (Timaeus, 1), Figulus endeavoured with some success to revive the doctrines of Pythagoreanism. With this was included mathematics, astronomy and astrology, and even the magic arts. According to Suetonius (Augustus, 94) he foretold the greatness of the future emperor on the day of his birth, and Apuleius (Apologia, 42) records that, by the employment of “magic boys” (magici pueri), he 335 helped to find a sum of money that had been lost. Jerome (the authority for the date of his death) calls him Pythagoricus et magus. The abstruse nature of his studies, the mystical character of his writings, and the general indifference of the Romans to such subjects, caused his works to be soon forgotten. Amongst his scientific, theological and grammatical works mention may be made of De diis, containing an examination of various cults and ceremonials; treatises on divination and the interpretation of dreams; on the sphere, the winds and animals. His Commentarii grammatici in at least 29 books was an ill-arranged collection of linguistic, grammatical and antiquarian notes. In these he expressed the opinion that the meaning of words was natural, not fixed by man. He paid especial attention to orthography, and sought to differentiate the meanings of cases of like ending by distinctive marks (the apex to indicate a long vowel is attributed to him). In etymology he endeavoured to find a Roman explanation of words where possible (according to him frater was = fere alter). Quintilian (Instit. orat. xi, 3. 143) speaks of a rhetorical treatise De gestu by him.

FIGULUS, PUBLIUS NIGIDIUS (c. 98-45 BCE), Roman scholar, was one of the most knowledgeable Romans of his time, second only to Varro. He was a friend of Cicero, supporting him during the Catilinarian conspiracy (Plutarch, Cicero, 20; Cicero, Pro Sulla, xiv. 42). In 58, he served as praetor, aligned himself with Pompey during the Civil War, and after Pompey's defeat, he was exiled by Caesar, ultimately dying in exile. Cicero mentions (Timaeus, 1) that Figulus attempted to breathe new life into Pythagorean ideas. This included topics like mathematics, astronomy, astrology, and even magic. Suetonius (Augustus, 94) noted that he predicted the future emperor’s greatness on the day he was born, while Apuleius (Apologia, 42) reported that he assisted in locating a lost sum of money using “magic boys” (magici pueri). Jerome, who provides the date of Figulus's death, referred to him as Pythagoricus et magus. The complex nature of his studies, the mystical tone of his writings, and the general apathy of Romans towards such topics led to the quick fading of his works from memory. Among his scientific, theological, and grammatical writings, De diis is notable for examining various cults and ceremonies, along with works on divination and dream interpretation, as well as treatises about the sphere, winds, and animals. His Commentarii grammatici, comprising at least 29 books, was a disorganized collection of notes on language, grammar, and antiquity. In these notes, he argued that the meaning of words was inherent, not determined by humans. He focused significantly on orthography, trying to distinguish meanings of similarly ending cases with specific marks (the apex for indicating a long vowel is credited to him). In etymology, he sought Roman explanations for words whenever possible (he proposed that frater equaled fere alter). Quintilian (Instit. orat. xi, 3. 143) refers to a rhetorical treatise titled De gestu by him.

See Cicero, Ad Fam. iv. 13; scholiast on Lucan i. 639; several references in Aulus Gellius; Teuffel, Hist. of Roman Literature, 170; M. Hertz, De N.F. studiis atque operibus (1845); Quaestiones Nigidianae (1890), and edition of the fragments (1889) by A. Swoboda.

See Cicero, Ad Fam. iv. 13; scholiast on Lucan i. 639; several references in Aulus Gellius; Teuffel, Hist. of Roman Literature, 170; M. Hertz, De N.F. studiis atque operibus (1845); Quaestiones Nigidianae (1890), and edition of the fragments (1889) by A. Swoboda.


FIGURATE NUMBERS, in mathematics. If we take the sum of n terms of the series 1 + 1 + 1 + ..., i.e. n, as the nth term of a new series, we obtain the series 1 + 2 + 3 + ..., the sum of n terms of which is ½n · n + 1. Taking this sum as the nth term, we obtain the series 1 + 3 + 6 + 10 + ..., which has for the sum of n terms n (n + 1) (n + 2) / 3!1 This sum is taken as the nth term of the next series, and proceeding in this way we obtain series having the following nth terms:—

FIGURATE NUMBERS, in mathematics. If we sum n terms of the series 1 + 1 + 1 + ..., which equals n, as the nth term of a new series, we get the series 1 + 2 + 3 + ..., where the sum of n terms is ½n · (n + 1). Taking this sum as the nth term, we get the series 1 + 3 + 6 + 10 + ..., which has a sum of n terms given by n (n + 1) (n + 2) / 3!1 This sum is then used as the nth term of the next series, and by continuing this process, we derive series with the following nth terms:—

1, n, n(n + 1)/2!, n(n + 1)(n + 2)/3!, ...n(n+1) ...(n + r − 2)/(r − 1)!.

1, n, n(n + 1)/2!, n(n + 1)(n + 2)/3!, ...n(n+1) ...(n + r − 2)/(r − 1)!.

The numbers obtained by giving n any value in these expressions are of the first, second, third, ... or rth order of figurate numbers.

The numbers you get by plugging any value for n into these expressions are the first, second, third, ... or rth order of figurate numbers.

Pascal treated these numbers in his Traité du triangle arithmetique (1665), using them to develop a theory of combinations and to solve problems in probability. His table is here shown in its simplest form. It is to be noticed that each number is the sum of the numbers immediately above and to the left of it; and that the numbers along a line, termed a base, which cuts off an equal number of units along the top row and column are the coefficients in the binomial expansion of (1 + x)r−1, where r represents the number of units cut off.

Pascal discussed these numbers in his Traité du triangle arithmetique (1665), using them to create a theory of combinations and tackle problems in probability. His table is shown here in its simplest form. It’s important to note that each number is the sum of the numbers directly above and to the left of it; and that the numbers along a line, called a base, which cuts off an equal number of units from the top row and column, are the coefficients in the binomial expansion of (1 + x)r−1, where r represents the number of units cut off.


1 The notation n! denotes the product 1 · 2 · 3 · ... n, and is termed “factorial n.”

1 The notation n! represents the product 1 · 2 · 3 · ... n, and is called "factorial n."


FIJI (Viti), a British colony consisting of an archipelago in the Pacific Ocean, the most important in Polynesia, between 15° and 20° S., and on and about the meridian of 180°. The islands number about 250, of which some 80 are inhabited. The total land area is 7435 sq. m. (thus roughly equalling that of Wales), and the population is about 121,000. The principal island is Viti Levu, 98 m. in length (E. to W.) and 67 in extreme breadth, with an area of 4112 sq. m. Forty miles N.E. lies Vanua Levu, measuring 117 m. by 30, with an area of 2432 sq. m. Close off the south-eastern shore of Vanua Levu is Taviuni, 26 m. in length by 10 in breadth; Kandavu or Kadavu, 36 m. long and very narrow, is 41 m. S. of Viti Levu, and the three other main islands, lying east of Viti Levu in the Koro Sea, are Koro, Ngau or Gau, and Ovalau. South-east from Vanua Levu a loop of islets extends nearly to 20° S., enclosing the Koro Sea. North-west of Viti Levu lies another chain, the Yasawa or western group; and, finally, the colony includes the island of Rotumah (q.v.), 300 m. N.W. by N. of Vanua Levu.

FIJI (Viti), a British territory made up of an archipelago in the Pacific Ocean, is the most significant in Polynesia, situated between 15° and 20° S, and around the 180° meridian. There are about 250 islands, with roughly 80 of them being inhabited. The total land area is 7,435 square miles (which is about the same size as Wales), and the population is around 121,000. The main island is Viti Levu, which is 98 miles long (east to west) and 67 miles at its widest point, covering an area of 4,112 square miles. Forty miles northeast lies Vanua Levu, measuring 117 miles by 30 miles, with an area of 2,432 square miles. Close to the southeastern shore of Vanua Levu is Taviuni, which is 26 miles long by 10 miles wide; Kandavu or Kadavu, 36 miles long and very narrow, is located 41 miles south of Viti Levu. The three other major islands to the east of Viti Levu in the Koro Sea are Koro, Ngau or Gau, and Ovalau. Southeast of Vanua Levu, a chain of islets stretches almost to 20° S, enclosing the Koro Sea. Northwest of Viti Levu is another chain known as the Yasawa or western group; finally, the colony includes the island of Rotumah (q.v.), which is 300 miles northwest by north of Vanua Levu.

The formation of the larger islands is volcanic, their surface rugged, their vegetation luxuriant, and their appearance very beautiful; their hills rise often above 3000, and, in the case of a few summits, above 4000 ft., and they contrast strongly with the low coral formation of the smaller members of the group. There is not much level country, except in the coral islets, and certain rich tracts along the coasts of the two large islands, especially near the mouths of the rivers. The large islands have a considerable extent of undulating country, dry and open on their lee sides. Streams and rivers are abundant, the latter very large in proportion to the size of the islands, affording a waterway to the rich districts along their banks. These and the extensive mud flats and deltas at their mouths are often flooded, by which their fertility is increased, though at a heavy cost to the cultivator. The Rewa, debouching through a wide delta at the south-east of Viti Levu, is navigable for small vessels for 40 m. There are also in this island the Navua and Sigatoka (flowing S.), the Nandi (W.), and the Ba (N.W.). The Dreketi, flowing W., is the chief stream of Vanua Levu. It breaches the mountains in a fine valley; for this island consists practically of one long range, whereas the main valleys and ranges separating them in Viti Levu radiate for the most part from a common centre. With few exceptions the islands are surrounded by barriers of coral, broken by openings opposite the mouths of streams. Viti Levu is the most important island not only from its size, but from its fertility, variety of surface, and population, which is over one-third of that of the whole group. The town of Suva lies on an excellent harbour at the south-east of the island, and has been the capital of the colony since 1882, containing the government buildings and other offices. Vanua Levu is less fertile than Viti Levu; it has good anchorages along its entire southern coast. Of the other islands, Taviuni, remarkable for a lake (presumably a crater-lake) at the top of its lofty central ridge, is fertile, but exceptionally devoid of harbours; whereas the well-timbered island of Kandavu has an excellent one. On the eastern shore of Ovalau, an island which contains in a small area a remarkable series of gorge-like valleys between commanding hills, is the town of Levuka, the capital until 1882. It stands partly upon the narrow shore, and partly climbs the rocky slope behind. The chief islands on the west of the chain enclosing the Koro Sea are Koro, Ngau, Moala and Totoya, all productive, affording good anchorage, elevated and picturesque. The eastern islands of the chain are smaller and more numerous, Vanua Batevu (one of the Exploring Group) being a centre of trade. Among others, Mago is remarkable for a subterranean outlet of the waters of the fertile valley in its midst.

The larger islands are formed by volcanic activity, featuring rugged terrain, lush vegetation, and stunning views; their hills often rise above 3,000 feet, and some peaks exceed 4,000 feet. This contrasts sharply with the low coral formations of the smaller islands in the group. There isn't much flat land, except for the coral islets and certain rich areas along the coasts of the two large islands, especially near river mouths. The large islands have quite a bit of rolling country, dry and open on their sheltered sides. There are many streams and rivers, with the latter being very large compared to the size of the islands, providing a useful waterway to the fertile regions along their banks. These areas, along with the extensive mudflats and deltas at their mouths, often get flooded, which enhances their fertility, though it can be costly for farmers. The Rewa River, emptying into a wide delta southeast of Viti Levu, is navigable for small boats for 40 miles. On this island, you'll also find the Navua and Sigatoka rivers (flowing south), the Nandi (west), and the Ba (northwest). The Dreketi River, flowing west, is the main river of Vanua Levu. It cuts through the mountains in a beautiful valley, as this island mainly consists of one long mountain range, while the main valleys and ranges in Viti Levu mostly spread out from a common point. With a few exceptions, the islands are surrounded by coral barriers, which are interrupted by openings across from river mouths. Viti Levu is the most significant island not just because of its size, but due to its fertility, varied landscape, and a population that makes up over one-third of the entire group. The city of Suva sits on an excellent harbor on the southeastern side of the island and has been the capital of the colony since 1882, housing the government buildings and other offices. Vanua Levu is less fertile than Viti Levu but has good anchorages along its entire southern coast. Among the other islands, Taviuni is notable for a lake (likely a crater lake) at the top of its tall central ridge; it is fertile but lacks harbors, while Kandavu, which is well-forested, has a great harbor. On the eastern shore of Ovalau, an island characterized by a remarkable series of gorge-like valleys between steep hills, lies the town of Levuka, which was the capital until 1882. It partially sits on the narrow shore and partially climbs the rocky slope behind it. The main islands on the west side of the chain that encloses the Koro Sea include Koro, Ngau, Moala, and Totoya, all of which are productive and offer good anchorage, being elevated and picturesque. The eastern islands in the chain are smaller and more numerous, with Vanua Batevu (part of the Exploring Group) serving as a trade hub. Among others, Mago stands out for having a subterranean outlet for the waters of the fertile valley in its center.

The land is of recent geological formation, the principal ranges being composed of igneous rock, and showing traces of much volcanic disturbance. There are boiling springs in Vanua 336 Levu and Ngau, and slight shocks of earthquake are occasionally felt. The tops of many of the mountains, from Kandavu in the S.W., through Nairai and Koro, to the Ringgold group in the N.E., have distinct craters, but their activity has long ceased. The various decomposing volcanic rocks—tufas, conglomerates and basalts—mingled with decayed vegetable matter, and abundantly watered, form a very fertile soil. Most of the high peaks on the larger islands are basaltic, and the rocks generally are igneous, with occasional upheaved coral found sometimes over 1000 ft. above the sea; but certain sedimentary rocks observed on Viti Levu seem to imply a nucleus of land of considerable age. Volcanic activity in the neighbourhood is further shown by the quantities of pumice-stone drifted on to the south coasts of Kandavu and Viti Levu; malachite, antimony and graphite, gold in small quantities, and specular iron-sand occur.

The land was formed recently in geological terms, with the main mountain ranges made up of igneous rock and showing signs of significant volcanic activity. There are boiling springs in Vanua Levu and Ngau, and occasional minor earthquakes are felt. Many mountain peaks, from Kandavu in the southwest, through Nairai and Koro, to the Ringgold group in the northeast, have clear craters, but they haven't been active for a long time. The different types of decaying volcanic rocks—tufas, conglomerates, and basalts—combined with decomposed plant material and plenty of water, create very fertile soil. Most of the high peaks on the larger islands are basaltic, and the rocks are generally igneous, with occasional coral uplifted as high as 1000 ft. above sea level; however, some sedimentary rocks found on Viti Levu suggest there is an older land base. The volcanic activity in the area is further indicated by the large amounts of pumice stone washed up on the southern shores of Kandavu and Viti Levu; there are also traces of malachite, antimony, graphite, small amounts of gold, and specular iron-sand.

Climate.—The colony is beyond the limits of the perpetual S.E. trades, while not within the range of the N.W. monsoons. From April to November the winds are steady between S.E. and E.N.E., and the climate is cool and dry, after which the weather becomes uncertain and the winds often northerly, this being the wet warm season. In February and March heavy gales are frequent, and hurricanes sometimes occur, causing scarcity by destroying the crops. The rainfall is much greater on the windward than on the lee sides of the islands (about 110 in. at Suva), but the mean temperature is much the same, viz., about 80° F. In the hills the temperature sometimes falls below 50°. The climate, especially from November to April, is somewhat enervating to the Englishman, but not unhealthy. Fevers are hardly known. Dysentery, which is common, and the most serious disease in the islands, is said to have been unknown before the advent of Europeans.

Climate.—The colony is outside the area of the constant S.E. trade winds and not in the path of the N.W. monsoons. From April to November, the winds are steady between S.E. and E.N.E., and the climate is cool and dry. After that, the weather becomes unpredictable, and the winds often shift to the north, marking the start of the warm, wet season. In February and March, strong winds are common, and hurricanes can occasionally occur, leading to crop failures and shortages. Rainfall is much higher on the windward sides compared to the leeward ones (around 110 in. at Suva), but the average temperature is quite similar, roughly 80° F. In the hills, temperatures can drop below 50°. The climate, particularly from November to April, can be a bit draining for the Englishman, but it isn’t unhealthy. Fevers are rarely seen. Dysentery, which is common and the most serious illness in the islands, is said to have been absent before the arrival of Europeans.

Fauna.—Besides the dog and the pig, which (with the domestic fowl) must have been introduced in early times, the only land mammals are certain species of rats and bats. Insects are numerous, but the species few. Bees have been introduced. The avifauna is not remarkable. Birds of prey are few; the parrot and pigeon tribes are better represented. Fishes, of an Indo-Malay type, are numerous and varied; Mollusca, especially marine, and Crustaceae are also very numerous. These three form an important element in the food supply.

Fauna.—In addition to the dog and the pig, which (along with the domestic fowl) must have been brought in early on, the only land mammals present are certain types of rats and bats. Insects are plentiful, but the species are limited. Bees have been brought in. The bird life isn’t particularly noteworthy. There are few birds of prey; however, parrots and pigeons are more common. Fish, of an Indo-Malay type, are abundant and diverse; mollusks, especially marine ones, and crustaceans are also very plentiful. Together, these three are a significant part of the food supply.

Flora.—The vegetation is mostly of a tropical Indo-Malayan character—thick jungle with great trees covered with creepers and epiphytes. The lee sides of the larger islands, however, have grassy plains suitable for grazing, with scattered trees, chiefly Pandanus, and ferns. The flora has also some Australian and New Zealand affinities (resembling in this respect the New Caledonia and New Hebrides groups), shown especially in these western districts by the Pandanus, by certain acacias and others. At an elevation of about 2000 ft. the vegetation assumes a more mountainous type. Among the many valuable timber trees are the vesi (Afzelia bijuga); the dilo (Calophyllum Inophyllum), the oil from its seeds being much used in the islands, as in India, in the treatment of rheumatism; the dakua (Dammara Vitiensis), allied to the New Zealand kauri, and others. The dakua or Fiji pine, however, has become scarce. Most of the fruit trees are also valuable as timber. The native cloth (masi) is beaten out from the bark of the paper mulberry cultivated for the purpose. Of the palms the cocoanut is by far the most important. The yasi or sandal-wood was formerly a valuable product, but is now rarely found. There are various useful drugs, spices and perfumes; and many plants are cultivated for their beauty, to which the natives are keenly alive. Among the plants used as pot-herbs are several ferns, and two or three Solanums, one of which, S. anthropophagorum, was one of certain plants always cooked with human flesh, which was said to be otherwise difficult of digestion. The use of the kava root, here called yanggona, from which the well-known national beverage is made, is said to have been introduced from Tonga. Of fruit trees, besides the cocoanut, there may be mentioned the many varieties of the bread-fruit, of bananas and plantains, of sugar-cane and of lemon; the wi (Spondias dulcis), the kavika (Eugenia malaccensis), the ivi or Tahitian chestnut (Inocarpus edulis), the pine-apple and others introduced in modern times. Edible roots are especially abundant. The chief staple of life is the yam, the names of several months in the calendar having reference to its cultivation and ripening. The natives use no grain or pulse, but make a kind of bread (mandrai) from this, the taro, and other roots, as well as from the banana (which is the best), the bread-fruit, the ivi, the kavika, the arrowroot, and in times of scarcity the mangrove. This bread is made by burying the materials for months, till the mass is thoroughly fermented and homogeneous, when it is dug up and cooked by baking or steaming. This simple process, applicable to such a variety of substances, is a valuable security against famine.

Flora.—The vegetation mainly consists of tropical Indo-Malayan types—dense jungle with large trees covered in vines and epiphytes. However, the sheltered sides of the larger islands feature grassy plains suitable for grazing, with scattered trees like Pandanus and ferns. The flora also has some connections to Australia and New Zealand (similar in this way to the New Caledonia and New Hebrides groups), especially noticeable in the western areas through plants like Pandanus, certain acacias, and others. At around 2000 ft in elevation, the vegetation changes to a more mountainous type. Among the many valuable timber trees are vesi (Afzelia bijuga); dilo (Calophyllum Inophyllum), whose seed oil is widely used in the islands for treating rheumatism, just like in India; and dakua (Dammara Vitiensis), related to New Zealand kauri, among others. However, the dakua or Fiji pine has become rare. Most fruit trees are also important for their timber. The native cloth (masi) is made from the bark of the paper mulberry, which is cultivated for this purpose. Of all the palms, the coconut is by far the most significant. Yasi or sandalwood was once a valuable product but is now rarely found. There are various useful drugs, spices, and perfumes; many plants are grown for their beauty, which the locals greatly appreciate. Among the plants used as pot-herbs are several ferns and a few Solanums, one of which, S. anthropophagorum, was among certain plants traditionally cooked with human flesh, said to be otherwise hard to digest. The kava root, known locally as yanggona, used to make the famous national drink, is said to have been brought in from Tonga. Besides coconut, notable fruit trees include several varieties of breadfruit, bananas, plantains, sugar cane, and lemons; wi (Spondias dulcis), kavika (Eugenia malaccensis), tahitian chestnut (Inocarpus edulis), pineapple, and other fruits introduced more recently. Edible roots are particularly plentiful. The main staple food is yam, with several months in the calendar named after its cultivation and harvest. The locals do not use grains or pulses but make a type of bread (mandrai) from yam, taro, and other roots, along with banana (the best), breadfruit, ivi, kavika, arrowroot, and in times of shortage, mangrove. This bread is made by burying the ingredients for months until everything is fully fermented and uniform, then it is dug up and cooked by baking or steaming. This straightforward process, applicable to a variety of ingredients, is a valuable safeguard against famine.

People.—The Fijians are a people of Melanesian (Papuan) stock much crossed with Polynesians (Tongans and Samoans). They occupy the extreme east limits of Papuan territory and are usually classified as Melanesians; but they are physically superior to the pure examples of that race, combining their dark colour, harsh hirsute skin, crisp hair, which is bleached with lime and worn in an elaborately trained mop, and muscular limbs, with the handsome features and well proportioned bodies of the Polynesians. They are tall and well built. The features are strongly marked, but not unpleasant, the eyes deep set, the beard thick and bushy. The chiefs are fairer, much better-looking, and of a less negroid type of face than the people. This negroid type is especially marked on the west coasts, and still more in the interior of Viti Levu. The Fijians have other characteristics of both Pacific races, e.g. the quick intellect of the fairer, and the savagery and suspicion of the dark. They wear a minimum of covering, but, unlike the Melanesians, are strictly decent, while they are more moral than the Polynesians. They are cleanly and particular about their personal appearance, though, unlike other Melanesians, they care little for ornament, and only the women are tattooed. A partial circumcision is practised, which is exceptional with the Melanesians, nor have these usually an elaborate political and social system like that of Fiji. The status of the women is also somewhat better, those of the upper class having considerable freedom and influence. If less readily amenable to civilizing influences than their neighbours to the eastward, the Fijians show greater force of character and ingenuity. Possessing the arts of both races they practise them with greater skill than either. They understand the principle of division of labour and production, and thus of commerce. They are skilful cultivators and good boat-builders, the carpenters being an hereditary caste; there are also tribes of fishermen and sailors; their mats, baskets, nets, cordage and other fabrics are substantial and tasteful; their pottery, made, like many of the above articles, by women, is far superior to any other in the South Seas; but many native manufactures have been supplanted by European goods.

People.—The Fijians are a group of people with Melanesian (Papuan) ancestry that has mixed with Polynesians (Tongans and Samoans). They live at the far eastern edge of Papuan territory and are generally classified as Melanesians; however, they are physically more advanced than pure examples of that race. They combine their dark skin, rough hairy skin, and tightly curled hair—which is bleached with lime and styled into an elaborate mop—with the attractive features and well-proportioned bodies of Polynesians. They are tall and strong. Their features are well-defined but not unpleasant, with deep-set eyes and thick, bushy beards. The chiefs are fairer, more attractive, and have a less negroid facial type than the general population. This negroid type is particularly noticeable on the west coasts and even more so in the interior of Viti Levu. The Fijians also have traits from both Pacific races, e.g. the quick intellect of the lighter-skinned individuals and the ferocity and mistrust of the darker-skinned. They wear minimal clothing but, unlike Melanesians, maintain a sense of decency, while they are more moral than Polynesians. They are clean and attentive to their appearance, though, unlike other Melanesians, they are not very fond of ornaments, and only women are tattooed. A form of partial circumcision is practiced, which is unusual among Melanesians, who also typically do not have as complex a political and social structure as that of Fiji. The status of women is somewhat better here, with women from the upper class enjoying considerable freedom and influence. While they are not as easily influenced by civilizing forces as their neighbors to the east, the Fijians display more strength of character and ingenuity. They possess the skills of both races and practice them with greater expertise than either. They understand the principles of division of labor and production, which also relates to commerce. They are skilled farmers and excellent boat builders, with carpenters forming a hereditary caste. There are also tribes of fishermen and sailors; their mats, baskets, nets, ropes, and other textiles are durable and aesthetically pleasing; their pottery, mostly made by women, is far superior to anything else in the South Seas. However, many native products have been replaced by European goods.

The Fijians were formerly notorious for cannibalism, which may have had its origin in religion, but long before the first contact with Europeans had degenerated into gluttony. The Fijian’s chief table luxury was human flesh, euphemistically called by him “long pig,” and to satisfy his appetite he would sacrifice even friends and relatives. The Fijians combined with this greediness a savage and merciless nature. Human sacrifices were of daily occurrence. On a chief’s death wives and slaves were buried alive with him. When building a chief’s house a slave was buried alive in the hole dug for each foundation post. At the launching of a war-canoe living men were tied hand and foot between two plantain stems making a human ladder over which the vessel was pushed down into the water. The people acquiesced in these brutal customs, and willingly met their deaths. Affection and a firm belief in a future state, in which the exact condition of the dying is continued, are the Fijians’ own explanations of the custom, once universal, of killing sick or aged relatives. Yet in spite of this savagery the Fijians have always been remarkable for their hospitality, open-handedness and courtesy. They are a sensitive, proud, if vindictive, and boastful people, with good conversational and reasoning powers, much sense of humour, tact and perception of character. Their code of social etiquette is minute and elaborate, and the graduations of rank well marked. These are (1) chiefs, greater and lesser; (2) priests; (3) Mata ni Vanua (lit., eyes of the land), employés, messengers or counsellors; (4) distinguished warriors of low birth; (5) common people; (6) slaves.

The Fijians were once infamous for cannibalism, which may have started as a religious practice, but well before they had any contact with Europeans, it had turned into simple gluttony. The Fijian’s favorite delicacy was human flesh, which he referred to as “long pig,” and to satisfy his cravings, he would sacrifice even his friends and family. Along with this greed, the Fijians exhibited a brutal and ruthless nature. Human sacrifices happened every day. When a chief died, his wives and slaves were buried alive with him. In building a chief’s house, a slave was buried alive in the hole dug for each foundation post. During the launch of a war canoe, living men were tied up between two plantain stems, creating a human ladder over which the canoe was pushed into the water. The people accepted these horrific customs and willingly met their deaths. They explained the tradition of killing sick or elderly relatives—once common—by citing affection and a strong belief in an afterlife where the conditions of the dying continue. Yet, despite this brutality, the Fijians have always been known for their hospitality, generosity, and courtesy. They are a sensitive, proud, and sometimes vindictive and boastful people, possessing good conversational and reasoning skills, a great sense of humor, and a keen understanding of character. Their social etiquette is detailed and intricate, with clear distinctions of rank. These ranks are (1) chiefs, both major and minor; (2) priests; (3) Mata ni Vanua (literally, eyes of the land), employees, messengers, or advisors; (4) distinguished warriors of lower birth; (5) commoners; (6) slaves.

The family is the unit of political society. The families are grouped in townships or otherwise (qali) under the lesser chiefs, who again owe allegiance to the supreme chief of the matanitu or tribe. The chiefs are a real aristocracy, excelling the people in physique, skill, intellect and acquirements of all sorts; and the reverence felt for them, now gradually diminishing, was very great, and had something of a religious character. All that a man had belonged to his chief. On the other hand, the chief’s property 337 practically belonged to his people, and they were as ready to give as to take. In a time of famine, a chief would declare the contents of the plantations to be common property. A system of feudal service-tenures (lala) is the institution on which their social and political fabric mainly depended. It allowed the chief to call for the labour of any district, and to employ it in planting, house or canoe-building, supplying food on the occasion of another chief’s visit, &c. This power was often used with much discernment; thus an unpopular chief would redeem his character by calling for some customary service and rewarding it liberally, or a district would be called on to supply labour or produce as a punishment. The privilege might, of course, be abused by needy or unscrupulous chiefs, though they generally deferred somewhat to public opinion; it has now, with similar customary exactions of cloth, mats, salt, pottery, &c. been reduced within definite limits. An allied custom, solevu, enabled a district in want of any particular article to call on its neighbours to supply it, giving labour or something else in exchange. Although, then, the chief is lord of the soil, the inferior chiefs and individual families have equally distinct rights in it, subject to payment of certain dues; and the idea of permanent alienation of land by purchase was never perhaps clearly realized. Another curious custom was that of vasu (lit. nephew). The son of a chief by a woman of rank had almost unlimited rights over the property of his mother’s family, or of her people. In time of war the chief claimed absolute control over life and property. Warfare was carried on with many courteous formalities, and considerable skill was shown in the fortifications. There were well-defined degrees of dependence among the different tribes or districts: the first of these, bati, is an alliance between two nearly equal tribes, but implying a sort of inferiority on one side, acknowledged by military service; the second, qali, implies greater subjection, and payment of tribute. Thus A, being bati to B, might hold C in qali, in which case C was also reckoned subject to B, or might be protected by B for political purposes.

The family is the basic unit of political society. Families are organized into townships or similar groups (qali) under lesser chiefs, who in turn owe loyalty to the supreme chief of the matanitu or tribe. The chiefs form a true aristocracy, standing out from the people in terms of physical presence, skills, intelligence, and various achievements; the respect they commanded, although fading now, used to be very strong and had a touch of religious significance. Everything a man possessed belonged to his chief. Conversely, the chief’s property essentially belonged to his people, who were just as willing to give as they were to take. During a famine, a chief would declare all the resources from their plantations as common property. A system of feudal service-tenures (lala) underpins their social and political structure. This system allowed the chief to request labor from any district for tasks like planting, building houses or canoes, or providing food during visits from other chiefs. This authority was often used wisely; for instance, an unpopular chief could restore his reputation by calling for traditional services and generously rewarding them, or a district might be asked to provide labor or goods as a punishment. Of course, this privilege could be misused by needy or unscrupulous chiefs, though they typically adhered to public opinion; it has now been limited alongside similar customary demands for cloth, mats, salt, pottery, etc. An associated custom, solevu, permitted a district in need of a specific item to ask neighboring areas to provide it in exchange for labor or other goods. So, while the chief owns the land, the lesser chiefs and individual families also hold distinct rights to it, provided they pay certain dues; the concept of permanently selling land was likely never fully grasped. Another interesting custom was vasu (lit. nephew). The son of a chief with a woman of high rank had nearly unlimited rights over his mother’s family’s property or that of her people. In times of war, the chief claimed total control over life and property. Warfare was conducted with many formalities, and there was significant skill involved in building fortifications. There were clear levels of dependence among various tribes or districts: the first, bati, represents an alliance between two nearly equal tribes, but suggests a degree of inferiority on one side, acknowledged through military service; the second, qali, indicates greater submission and the payment of tribute. Thus, A, being bati to B, could hold C in qali, making C also considered subordinate to B, or might seek protection from B for political reasons.

The former religion of the Fijians was a sort of ancestor-worship, had much in common with the creeds of Polynesia, and included a belief in a future existence. There were two classes of gods—the first immortal, of whom Ndengei is the greatest, said to exist eternally in the form of a serpent, but troubling himself little with human or other affairs, and the others had usually only a local recognition. The second rank (who, though far above mortals, are subject to their passions, and even to death) comprised the spirits of chiefs, heroes and other ancestors. The gods entered and spoke through their priests, who thus pronounced on the issue of every enterprise, but they were not represented by idols; certain groves and trees were held sacred, and stones which suggest phallic associations. The priesthood usually was hereditary, and their influence great, and they had generally a good understanding with the chief. The institution of Taboo existed in full force. The mburé or temple was also the council chamber and place of assemblage for various purposes.

The old religion of the Fijians centered around ancestor worship, sharing many beliefs with the religions of Polynesia, and included the idea of an afterlife. There were two categories of gods—the first being immortal, with Ndengei as the most important, said to exist forever in the form of a serpent but not really involved in human matters, while the others were typically recognized only locally. The second group (who, despite being far above humans, could still be influenced by emotions and even death) consisted of the spirits of chiefs, heroes, and other ancestors. The gods communicated through their priests, who would then make decisions on various enterprises, but there were no idols representing them; rather, certain groves and trees were considered sacred, along with stones that have phallic connotations. The priesthood was usually passed down through families, wielding considerable influence, and they typically maintained a good relationship with the chief. The institution of Taboo was strongly enforced. The mburé or temple also served as the council chamber and gathering place for various activities.

The weapons of the Fijians are spears, slings, throwing clubs and bows and arrows. Their houses, of which the framework is timber and the rest lattice and thatch, are ingeniously constructed, with great taste in ornamentation, and are well furnished with mats, mosquito-curtains, baskets, fans, nets and cooking and other utensils. Their canoes, sometimes more than 100 ft. long, are well built. Ever excellent agriculturists, their implements were formerly digging sticks and hoes of turtlebone or flat oyster-shells. In irrigation they showed skill, draining their fields with built watercourses and bamboo pipes. Tobacco, maize, sweet potatoes, yams, kava, taro, beans and pumpkins, are the principal crops.

The weapons of the Fijians include spears, slings, throwing clubs, and bows and arrows. Their houses, made of timber frames and covered with lattice and thatch, are cleverly designed, tastefully decorated, and well-furnished with mats, mosquito nets, baskets, fans, fishing nets, and various cooking and other utensils. Their canoes, sometimes over 100 feet long, are well-constructed. As skilled farmers, they used to rely on digging sticks and hoes made from turtle shell or flat oyster shells. They demonstrated expertise in irrigation, draining their fields using built water channels and bamboo pipes. The main crops include tobacco, maize, sweet potatoes, yams, kava, taro, beans, and pumpkins.

Fijians are fond of amusements. They have various games, and dancing, story-telling and songs are especially popular. Their poetry has well-defined metres, and a sort of rhyme. Their music is rude, and is said to be always in the major key. They are clever cooks, and for their feasts preparations are sometimes made months in advance, and enormous waste results from them. Mourning is expressed by fasting, by shaving the head and face, or by cutting off the little finger. This last is sometimes done at the death of a rich man in the hope that his family will reward the compliment; sometimes it is done vicariously, as when one chief cuts off the little finger of his dependent in regret or in atonement for the death of another.

Fijians enjoy various forms of entertainment. They play different games, and dancing, storytelling, and singing are especially popular. Their poetry has distinct rhythms and a type of rhyme. Their music is basic and is said to always be in a major key. They are skilled cooks, and for their feasts, preparations can start months in advance, often leading to significant waste. Mourning is shown through fasting, shaving the head and face, or cutting off the little finger. The last practice is sometimes done when a wealthy person dies, with the hope that their family will reward this gesture; other times, it's done indirectly, such as when one chief cuts off the little finger of a subordinate in sorrow or as an apology for someone else's death.

A steady, if not a very rapid, decrease in the native population set in after 1875. A terrible epidemic of measles in that year swept away 40,000, or about one-third of the Fijians. Subsequent epidemics have not been attended by anything like this mortality, but there has, however, been a steady decrease, principally among young children, owing to whooping-cough, tuberculosis and croup. Every Fijian child seems to contract yaws at some time in its life, a mistaken notion existing on the part of the parents that it strengthens the child’s physique. Elephantiasis, influenza; rheumatism, and a skin disease, thoko, also occur. One per cent of the natives are lepers. A commission appointed in 1891 to inquire into the causes of the native decrease collected much interesting anthropological information regarding native customs, and provincial inspectors and medical officers were specially appointed to compel the natives to carry out the sanitary reforms recommended by the commission. A considerable sum was also spent in laying on good water to the native villages. The Fijians show no disposition to intermarry with the Indian coolies. The European half-castes are not prolific inter se, and they are subject to a scrofulous taint. The most robust cross in the islands is the offspring of the African negro and the Fijian. Miscegenation with the Micronesians, the only race in the Pacific which is rapidly increasing, is regarded as the most hopeful manner of preserving the native Fijian population. There is a large Indian immigrant population.

A steady, though not very rapid, decline in the native population began after 1875. A terrible measles epidemic that year wiped out 40,000 people, or about a third of the Fijians. Subsequent epidemics haven't caused such high mortality rates, but there has been a consistent decrease, mainly among young children, due to whooping cough, tuberculosis, and croup. Every Fijian child seems to get yaws at some point in their life, with parents mistakenly believing that it strengthens the child’s health. Elephantiasis, influenza, rheumatism, and a skin disease called thoko are also present. About one percent of the natives are lepers. A commission was appointed in 1891 to investigate the reasons for the decline in the native population and gathered a lot of interesting anthropological information about native customs. Provincial inspectors and medical officers were specially assigned to ensure the natives implemented the sanitary reforms recommended by the commission. Significant funds were also spent to provide clean water to the native villages. The Fijians show no interest in intermarrying with Indian laborers. The European half-castes are not very prolific among themselves and suffer from a scrofulous condition. The strongest crossbreed in the islands is the offspring of African negroes and Fijians. Intermarriage with Micronesians, the only group in the Pacific that is rapidly growing, is seen as the most promising way to preserve the native Fijian population. There is a substantial Indian immigrant population.

Trade, Administration, &c.—The principal industries are the cultivation of sugar and fruits and the manufacture of sugar and copra, and these three are the chief articles of export trade, which is carried on almost entirely with Australia and New Zealand. The fruits chiefly exported are bananas and pineapples. There are also exported maize, vanilla and a variety of fruits in small quantities; pearl and other shells and bêche-de-mer. There is a manufacture of soap from coconut oil; a fair quantity of tobacco is grown, and among other industries may be included boat-building and saw-milling. Regular steamship communications are maintained with Sydney, Auckland and Vancouver. Good bridle-tracks exist in all the larger islands, and there are some macadamized roads, principally in Viti Levu. There is an overland mail service by native runners. The export trade is valued at nearly £600,000 annually, and the imports at £500,000. The annual revenue of the colony is about £140,000 and the expenditure about £125,000. The currency and weights and measures are British. Besides the customs and stamp duties, some £18,000 of the annual revenue is raised from native taxation. The seventeen provinces of the colony (at the head of which is either a European or a roko tui or native official) are assessed annually by the legislative council for a fixed tax in kind. The tax on each province is distributed among districts under officials called bulis, and further among villages within these districts. Any surplus of produce over the assessment is sold to contractors, and the money received is returned to the natives.

Trade, Administration, &c.—The main industries are sugar and fruit farming, along with sugar and copra production. These are the primary exports, mostly traded with Australia and New Zealand. The main fruits exported are bananas and pineapples. Other exports include maize, vanilla, and various fruits in smaller amounts, as well as pearls and other shells and bêche-de-mer. There is a soap manufacturing industry that uses coconut oil; a decent quantity of tobacco is grown, and other industries include boat-building and sawmilling. Regular steamship services connect with Sydney, Auckland, and Vancouver. There are good bridle trails on all the larger islands, along with some paved roads, mainly in Viti Levu. An overland mail service operates with native runners. The export trade is worth nearly £600,000 each year, while imports total around £500,000. The colony's annual revenue is about £140,000, and expenditures are around £125,000. The currency and measurements are British. In addition to customs and stamp duties, around £18,000 of the annual revenue comes from local taxes. The colony is divided into seventeen provinces (led by either a European or a native official known as a roko tui), which are assessed annually by the legislative council for a fixed tax in kind. The tax for each province is allocated among districts overseen by officials called bulis, and then further divided among villages within these districts. Any surplus produce beyond the assessment is sold to contractors, and the income is returned to the locals.

Under a reconstruction made in 1904 there is an executive council consisting of the governor and four official members. The legislative council consists of the governor, ten official, six elected and two native members. The native chiefs and provincial representatives meet annually under the presidency of the governor, and their recommendations are submitted for sanction to the legislative council. Suva and Levuka have each a municipal government, and there are native district and village councils. There is an armed native constabulary; and a volunteer and cadet corps in Suva and Levuka.

Under a revision made in 1904, there is an executive council that includes the governor and four official members. The legislative council is made up of the governor, ten official members, six elected members, and two native members. The native chiefs and provincial representatives gather once a year, led by the governor, and their recommendations are passed on to the legislative council for approval. Suva and Levuka each have their own municipal government, along with native district and village councils. There is an armed native police force, as well as a volunteer and cadet corps in Suva and Levuka.

The majority of the natives are Wesleyan Methodists. The Roman Catholic missionaries have about 3000 adherents; the Church of England is confined to the Europeans and kanakas in the towns; the Indian coolies are divided between Mahommedans and Hindus. There are public schools for Europeans and half-castes in the towns, but there is no provision for the education of the children of settlers in the out-districts. By an 338 ordinance of 1890 provision was made for the constitution of school boards, and the principle was first applied in Suva and Levuka. The missions have established schools in every native village, and most natives are able to read and write their own language. The government has established a native technical school for the teaching of useful handicrafts. The natives show themselves very slow in adopting European habits in food, clothing and house-building.

Most of the locals are Wesleyan Methodists. The Roman Catholic missionaries have about 3,000 followers; the Church of England mainly serves Europeans and kanakas in the towns; the Indian laborers are split between Muslims and Hindus. There are public schools for Europeans and mixed-race children in the towns, but there's no schooling available for settlers' children in the rural areas. An 338 ordinance from 1890 allowed for the creation of school boards, starting in Suva and Levuka. The missions have set up schools in every native village, and most locals can read and write in their own language. The government has created a technical school for teaching useful trades to the natives. The locals are quite slow to embrace European customs in terms of food, clothing, and building houses.

History.—A few islands in the north-east of the group were first seen by Abel Tasman in 1643. The southernmost of the group, Turtle Island, was discovered by Cook in 1773. Lieutenant Bligh, approaching them in the launch of the “Bounty,” 1789, had a hostile encounter with natives. In 1827 Dumont d’Urville in the “Astrolabe” surveyed them much more accurately, but the first thorough survey was that of the United States exploring expedition in 1840. Up to this time, owing to the evil reputation of the islanders, European intercourse was very limited. The labours of the Wesleyan missionaries, however, must always have a prominent place in any history of Fiji. They came from Tonga in 1835 and naturally settled first in the eastern islands, where the Tongan element, already familiar to them, preponderated. They perhaps identified themselves too closely with their Tongan friends, whose dissolute, lawless, tyrannical conduct led to much mischief; but it should not be forgotten that their position was difficult, and it was mainly through their efforts that many terrible heathen practices were stamped out.

History.—A few islands in the northeast of the group were first spotted by Abel Tasman in 1643. The southernmost island, Turtle Island, was discovered by Cook in 1773. Lieutenant Bligh, while approaching them in the launch of the “Bounty” in 1789, had a hostile encounter with the locals. In 1827, Dumont d’Urville surveyed them more accurately on the “Astrolabe,” but the first comprehensive survey was conducted by the United States exploring expedition in 1840. Until then, due to the negative reputation of the islanders, European interactions were quite limited. However, the work of the Wesleyan missionaries always deserves a significant mention in any history of Fiji. They arrived from Tonga in 1835 and naturally settled first in the eastern islands, where the Tongan presence was already strong. They may have aligned themselves too closely with their Tongan friends, whose irresponsible, unruly, and tyrannical behavior caused a lot of problems; but it’s important to remember that their situation was challenging, and it was largely thanks to their efforts that many terrible heathen practices were eliminated.

About 1804 some escaped convicts from Australia and runaway sailors established themselves around the east part of Viti Levu, and by lending their services to the neighbouring chiefs probably led to their preponderance over the rest of the group. Na Ulivau, chief of the small island of Mbau, established before his death in 1829 a sort of supremacy, which was extended by his brother Tanoa, and by Tanoa’s son Thakombau, a ruler of considerable capacity. In his time, however, difficulties thickened. The Tongans, who had long frequented Fiji (especially for canoe-building, their own islands being deficient in timber), now came in larger numbers, led by an able and ambitious chief, Maafu, who, by adroitly taking part in Fijian quarrels, made himself chief in the Windward group, threatening Thakombau’s supremacy. He was harassed, too, by an arbitrary demand for £9000 from the American government, for alleged injuries to their consul. Several chiefs who disputed his authority were crushed by the aid of King George of Tonga, who (1855) had opportunely arrived on a visit; but he afterwards, taking some offence, demanded £12,000 for his services. At last Thakombau, disappointed in the hope that his acceptance of Christianity (1854) would improve his position, offered the sovereignty to Great Britain (1859) with the fee simple of 100,000 acres, on condition of her paying the American claims. Colonel Smythe, R.A., was sent out to report on the question, and decided against annexation, but advised that the British consul should be invested with full magisterial powers over his countrymen, a step which would have averted much subsequent difficulty.

Around 1804, some escaped convicts from Australia and runaway sailors settled in the eastern part of Viti Levu. By offering their services to local chiefs, they likely helped those chiefs gain power over the other islands. Na Ulivau, the chief of the small island of Mbau, established a sort of dominance before his death in 1829, which was carried on by his brother Tanoa and Tanoa’s son Thakombau, a capable leader. However, during his time, challenges increased. The Tongans, who had long visited Fiji—mainly for canoe-building since their own islands lacked timber—began arriving in larger numbers under the leadership of a skilled and ambitious chief named Maafu. By skillfully involving himself in Fijian disputes, he made himself chief in the Windward group, posing a threat to Thakombau’s authority. He was also pressured by a hefty demand of £9,000 from the American government for supposed damages to their consul. Several chiefs who challenged his power were defeated with assistance from King George of Tonga, who showed up on a visit in 1855; however, he later demanded £12,000 for his help due to feeling slighted. Finally, Thakombau, frustrated that his conversion to Christianity in 1854 didn’t improve his situation, offered sovereignty to Great Britain in 1859, including 100,000 acres of land, on the condition that they would settle the American claims. Colonel Smythe of the Royal Artillery was sent to evaluate the situation and recommended against annexation, suggesting instead that the British consul be given full magistrate powers over his fellow countrymen, a move that could have prevented a lot of difficulties later on.

Meanwhile Dr B. Seemann’s favourable report on the capabilities of the islands, followed by a time of depression in Australia and New Zealand, led to a rapid increase of settlers—from 200 in 1860 to 1800 in 1869. This produced fresh complications, and an increasing desire among the respectable settlers for a competent civil and criminal jurisdiction. Attempts were made at self-government, and the sovereignty was again offered, conditionally, to England, and to the United States. Finally, in 1871, a “constitutional government” was formed by certain Englishmen under King Thakombau; but this, after incurring heavy debt, and promoting the welfare of neither whites nor natives, came after three years to a deadlock, and the British government felt obliged, in the interest of all parties, to accept the unconditional cession now offered (1874). It had besides long been thought desirable to possess a station on the route between Australia and Panama; it was also felt that the Polynesian labour traffic, the abuses in which had caused much indignation, could only be effectually regulated from a point contiguous to the recruiting field, and the locality where that labour was extensively employed. To this end the governor of Fiji was also created “high commissioner for the western Pacific.” Rotumah (q.v.) was annexed in 1881.

Meanwhile, Dr. B. Seemann’s positive report on the potential of the islands, combined with a period of economic downturn in Australia and New Zealand, led to a rapid influx of settlers—from 200 in 1860 to 1,800 in 1869. This created new challenges and an increasing demand among the respectable settlers for a reliable civil and criminal justice system. There were efforts at self-governance, and sovereignty was once again conditionally offered to England and the United States. Ultimately, in 1871, a “constitutional government” was established by certain Englishmen under King Thakombau; however, this government, after accumulating significant debt and failing to benefit either the white settlers or the native population, reached a standstill after three years. The British government felt compelled, in the interest of all involved, to accept the unconditional cession that was now proposed (1874). It had also long been considered desirable to have a presence on the route between Australia and Panama; additionally, it was believed that the issues surrounding the Polynesian labor trade, which had caused considerable outrage, could only be effectively managed from a location close to the recruitment areas and where that labor was widely utilized. To address this, the governor of Fiji was also appointed as “high commissioner for the western Pacific.” Rotumah (q.v.) was annexed in 1881.

At the time of the British annexation the islands were suffering from commercial depression, following a fall in the price of cotton after the American Civil War. Coffee, tea, cinchona and sugar were tried in turn, with limited success. The coffee was attacked by the leaf disease; the tea could not compete with that grown by the cheap labour of the East; the sugar machinery was too antiquated to withstand the fall in prices consequent on the European sugar bounties. In 1878 the first coolies were imported from India and the cultivation of sugar began to pass into the hands of large companies working with modern machinery. With the introduction of coolies the Fijians began to fall behind in the development of their country. Many of the coolies chose to remain in the colony after the termination of their indentures, and began to displace the European country traders. With a regular and plentiful supply of Indian coolies, the recruiting of kanaka labourers practically ceased. The settlement of European land claims, and the measures taken for the protection of native institutions, caused lively dissatisfaction among the colonists, who laid the blame of the commercial depression at the door of the government; but with returning prosperity this feeling began to disappear. In 1900 the government of New Zealand made overtures to absorb Fiji. The Aborigines Society protested to the colonial office, and the imperial government refused to sanction the proposal.

At the time of the British takeover, the islands were dealing with an economic slump due to a drop in cotton prices after the American Civil War. They alternated between trying to cultivate coffee, tea, cinchona, and sugar, but with limited success. Coffee crops were hit by a leaf disease; tea couldn't compete with the cheaper production from the East; and the sugar machinery was too outdated to handle the price drop caused by European sugar subsidies. In 1878, the first laborers from India were brought in, and the sugar production began shifting to large companies using modern machinery. With the arrival of these laborers, the Fijians started to fall behind in their country's development. Many of the laborers chose to stay in the colony after their contracts ended and began taking over roles from European traders. With a consistent influx of Indian laborers, the recruitment of local laborers basically stopped. The resolution of European land claims and efforts to protect native institutions caused significant frustration among the colonists, who blamed the government for the economic downturn; however, this sentiment began to fade as prosperity returned. In 1900, the New Zealand government expressed interest in annexing Fiji. The Aborigines Society appealed to the colonial office, and the imperial government ultimately rejected the idea.

See Smyth, Ten Months in the Fiji Islands (London, 1864); B. Seemann, Flora Vitiensis (London, 1865); and Viti: Account of a Government Mission in the Vitian or Fijian Islands (1860-1861); W.T. Pritchard, Polynesian Reminiscences (London, 1866); H. Forbes, Two Years in Fiji (London, 1875); Commodore Goodenough, Journal (London, 1876); H.N. Moseley, Notes of a Naturalist in the “Challenger” (London, 1879); Sir A.H. Gordon, Story of a Little War (Edinburgh, privately printed, 1879); J.W. Anderson, Fiji and New Caledonia (London, 1880); C.F. Gordon-Cumming, At Home in Fiji (Edinburgh, 1881); John Horne, A Year in Fiji (London, 1881); H.S. Cooper, Our New Colony, Fiji (London, 1882); S.E. Scholes, Fiji and the Friendly Islands (London, 1882); Princes Albert Victor and George of Wales, Cruise of H. M. S. “Bacchante” (London, 1886); A. Agassiz, The Islands and Coral Reefs of Fiji (Cambridge, Mass., U.S., 1899); H.B. Guppy, Observations of a Naturalist in the Pacific (1896-1899), vol. i.; Vanua Levu, Fiji (Phys. Geog. and Geology) (London, 1903); Lorimer Fison, Tales from Old Fiji (folk-lore, &c.) (London, 1904); B. Thomson, The Fijians (London, 1908).

See Smyth, Ten Months in the Fiji Islands (London, 1864); B. Seemann, Flora Vitiensis (London, 1865); and Viti: Account of a Government Mission in the Vitian or Fijian Islands (1860-1861); W.T. Pritchard, Polynesian Reminiscences (London, 1866); H. Forbes, Two Years in Fiji (London, 1875); Commodore Goodenough, Journal (London, 1876); H.N. Moseley, Notes of a Naturalist in the “Challenger” (London, 1879); Sir A.H. Gordon, Story of a Little War (Edinburgh, privately printed, 1879); J.W. Anderson, Fiji and New Caledonia (London, 1880); C.F. Gordon-Cumming, At Home in Fiji (Edinburgh, 1881); John Horne, A Year in Fiji (London, 1881); H.S. Cooper, Our New Colony, Fiji (London, 1882); S.E. Scholes, Fiji and the Friendly Islands (London, 1882); Princes Albert Victor and George of Wales, Cruise of H. M. S. “Bacchante” (London, 1886); A. Agassiz, The Islands and Coral Reefs of Fiji (Cambridge, Mass., U.S., 1899); H.B. Guppy, Observations of a Naturalist in the Pacific (1896-1899), vol. i.; Vanua Levu, Fiji (Phys. Geog. and Geology) (London, 1903); Lorimer Fison, Tales from Old Fiji (folk-lore, &c.) (London, 1904); B. Thomson, The Fijians (London, 1908).


FILANDER, the name by which the Aru Island wallaby (Macropus brunii) was first described. It occurs in a translation of C. de Bruyn’s Travels (ii. 101) published in 1737.

FILANDER, is the name used to identify the Aru Island wallaby (Macropus brunii) when it was first described. This name appears in a translation of C. de Bruyn's Travels (ii. 101) that was published in 1737.


FILANGIERI, CARLO (1784-1867), prince of Satriano, Neapolitan soldier and statesman, was the son of Gaetano Filangieri (1752-1788), a celebrated philosopher and jurist. At the age of fifteen he decided on a military career, and having obtained an introduction to Napoleon Bonaparte, then first consul, was admitted to the Military Academy at Paris. In 1803 he received a commission in an infantry regiment, and took part in the campaign of 1805 under General Davoust, first in the Low Countries, and later at Ulm, Maria Zell and Austerlitz, where he fought with distinction, was wounded several times and promoted. He returned to Naples as captain on Masséna’s staff to fight the Bourbons and the Austrians in 1806, and subsequently went to Spain, where he followed Jerome Bonaparte in his retreat from Madrid. In consequence of a fatal duel he was sent back to Naples; there he served under Joachim Murat with the rank of general, and fought against the Anglo-Sicilian forces in Calabria and at Messina. On the fall of Napoleon he took part in Murat’s campaign against Eugène Beauharnais, and later in that against Austria, and was severely wounded at the battle of the Panaro (1815). On the restoration of the Bourbon king Ferdinand IV. (I.), Filangieri retained his rank and command, but found the army utterly disorganized and impregnated with Carbonarism. In the disturbances of 1820 he adhered to the Constitutionalist party, and fought under General Pepe (q.v.) against the Austrians. On the reestablishment of the autocracy he was dismissed from the 339 service, and retired to Calabria where he had inherited the princely title and estates of Satriano. In 1831 he was recalled by Ferdinand II. and entrusted with various military reforms. On the outbreak of the troubles of 1848 Filangieri advised the king to grant the constitution, which he did in February 1848, but when the Sicilians formally seceded from the Neapolitan kingdom Filangieri was given the command of an armed force with which to reduce the island to obedience. On the 3rd of September he landed near Messina, and after very severe fighting captured the city. He then advanced southwards, besieged and took Catania, where his troops committed many atrocities, and by May 1849 he had conquered the whole of Sicily, though not without much bloodshed. He remained in Sicily as governor until 1855, when he retired into private life, as he could not carry out the reforms he desired owing to the hostility of Giovanni Cassisi, the minister for Sicily. On the death of Ferdinand II. (22nd of May 1859) the new king Francis II. appointed Filangieri premier and minister of war. He promoted good relations with France, then fighting with Piedmont against the Austrians in Lombardy, and strongly urged on the king the necessity of an alliance with Piedmont and a constitution as the only means whereby the dynasty might be saved. These proposals being rejected, Filangieri resigned office. In May 1860, Francis at last promulgated the constitution, but it was too late, for Garibaldi was in Sicily and Naples was seething with rebellion. On the advice of Liborio Romano, the new prefect of police, Filangieri was ordered to leave Naples. He went to Marseilles with his wife and subsequently to Florence, where at the instance of General La Marmora he undertook to write an account of the Italian army. Although he adhered to the new government he refused to accept any dignity at its hands, and died at his villa of San Giorgio a Cremano near Naples on the 9th of October 1867.

FILANGIERI, CARLO (1784-1867), prince of Satriano, was a Neapolitan soldier and statesman, and the son of Gaetano Filangieri (1752-1788), a well-known philosopher and jurist. At fifteen, he chose to pursue a military career, and after being introduced to Napoleon Bonaparte, who was then the first consul, he was admitted to the Military Academy in Paris. In 1803, he received a commission in an infantry regiment and participated in the 1805 campaign under General Davoust, fighting first in the Low Countries and later at Ulm, Maria Zell, and Austerlitz, where he distinguished himself, was wounded several times, and earned promotions. He returned to Naples as a captain on Masséna’s staff to combat the Bourbons and Austrians in 1806 and later went to Spain, trailing Jerome Bonaparte during his retreat from Madrid. Following a fatal duel, he was sent back to Naples; there, he served under Joachim Murat as a general, fighting against the Anglo-Sicilian forces in Calabria and at Messina. After Napoleon's fall, he participated in Murat’s campaign against Eugène Beauharnais and later against Austria, suffering severe wounds at the battle of the Panaro (1815). When Ferdinand IV (I.) was restored as king of the Bourbons, Filangieri kept his rank and command but found the army completely disorganized and rife with Carbonari influence. During the 1820 disturbances, he sided with the Constitutionalist party and fought under General Pepe (q.v.) against the Austrians. After the autocracy was restored, he was dismissed from the 339 service and retired to Calabria, where he inherited the princely title and estates of Satriano. In 1831, he was called back by Ferdinand II and tasked with various military reforms. When the troubles of 1848 broke out, Filangieri advised the king to grant a constitution, which he did in February 1848. However, when the Sicilians formally seceded from the Neapolitan kingdom, Filangieri was given command of an armed force to bring the island back into line. On September 3, he landed near Messina and, after intense fighting, captured the city. He then advanced south, besieging and taking Catania, where his troops committed numerous atrocities, and by May 1849, he had conquered all of Sicily, though with significant bloodshed. He remained as governor of Sicily until 1855 when he retired from public life, unable to implement the reforms he wished due to the opposition from Giovanni Cassisi, the Sicilian minister. Upon the death of Ferdinand II (May 22, 1859), the new king, Francis II, appointed Filangieri as premier and minister of war. He fostered good relations with France, which was at war with Piedmont against the Austrians in Lombardy, and strongly urged the king to ally with Piedmont and establish a constitution as the only way to save the dynasty. When these proposals were rejected, Filangieri resigned. In May 1860, Francis finally issued the constitution, but it was too late, as Garibaldi had already landed in Sicily and Naples was rife with rebellion. Following the advice of Liborio Romano, the new prefect of police, Filangieri was ordered to leave Naples. He went to Marseilles with his wife and later to Florence, where at the request of General La Marmora, he agreed to write about the Italian army. Although he aligned with the new government, he refused to accept any honor from it and died at his villa in San Giorgio a Cremano near Naples on October 9, 1867.

Filangieri was a very distinguished soldier, and a man of great ability; although he changed sides several times he became really attached to the Bourbon dynasty, which he hoped to save by freeing it from its reactionary tendencies and infusing a new spirit into it. His conduct in Sicily was severe and harsh, but he was not without feelings of humanity, and he was an honest man and a good administrator.

Filangieri was a highly respected soldier and a man of significant talent. Although he switched allegiances several times, he genuinely became devoted to the Bourbon dynasty, which he hoped to rescue by eliminating its reactionary tendencies and bringing a fresh perspective. His actions in Sicily were tough and strict, but he wasn't lacking in compassion; he was an honest individual and a capable administrator.

His biography has been written by his daughter Teresa Filangieri Fieschi-Ravaschieri, Il Generale Carlo Filangieri (Milan, 1902), an interesting, although somewhat too laudatory volume based on the general’s own unpublished memoirs; for the Sicilian expedition see V. Finocchiaro, La Rivoluzione siciliana del 1848-49 (Catania, 1906, with bibliography), in which Filangieri is bitterly attacked; see also under Naples; Ferdinand IV.; Francis I.; Ferdinand II.; Francis II.

His biography was written by his daughter Teresa Filangieri Fieschi-Ravaschieri, Il Generale Carlo Filangieri (Milan, 1902), an interesting but somewhat overly flattering book based on the general’s own unpublished memoirs. For details on the Sicilian expedition, see V. Finocchiaro, La Rivoluzione siciliana del 1848-49 (Catania, 1906, with bibliography), which harshly criticizes Filangieri; also refer to Naples; Ferdinand IV.; Francis I.; Ferdinand II.; Francis II..

(L. V.*)

FILANGIERI, GAETANO (1752-1788), Italian publicist, was born at Naples on the 18th of August 1752. His father, Caesar, prince of Arianiello, intended him for a military career, which he commenced at the early age of seven, but soon abandoned for the study of the law. At the bar his knowledge and eloquence early secured his success, while his defence of a royal decree reforming abuses in the administration of justice gained him the favour of the king, Charles, afterwards Charles III. of Spain, and led to several honourable appointments at court. The first two books of his great work, La Scienza della legislazione, appeared in 1780. The first book contained an exposition of the rules on which legislation in general ought to proceed, while the second was devoted to economic questions. These two books showed him an ardent reformer, and vehement in denouncing the abuses of his time. He insisted on unlimited free trade, and the abolition of the medieval institutions which impeded production and national well-being. Its success was great and immediate not only in Italy, but throughout Europe at large. In 1783 he married, resigned his appointments at court, and retiring to Cava, devoted himself steadily to the completion of his work. In the same year appeared the third book, relating entirely to the principles of criminal jurisprudence. The suggestion which he made in it as to the need for reform in the Roman Catholic church brought upon him the censure of the ecclesiastical authorities, and it was condemned by the congregation of the Index in 1784. In 1785 he published three additional volumes, making the fourth book of the projected work, and dealing with education and morals. In 1787 he was appointed a member of the supreme treasury council by Ferdinand IV., but his health, impaired by close study and over-work in his new office, compelled his withdrawal to the country at Vico Equense. He died somewhat suddenly on the 21st of July 1788, having just completed the first part of the fifth book of his Scienza. He left an outline of the remainder of the work, which was to have been completed in six books.

FILANGIERI, GAETANO (1752-1788), Italian publicist, was born in Naples on August 18, 1752. His father, Caesar, prince of Arianiello, planned for him to pursue a military career, which he started at the young age of seven but soon left behind to study law. In his legal career, his knowledge and eloquence brought him early success, while his defense of a royal decree aimed at reforming injustices in the legal system earned him the favor of King Charles, who later became Charles III of Spain, resulting in several prestigious positions at court. The first two books of his major work, La Scienza della legislazione, were published in 1780. The first book outlined the principles that legislation should follow, while the second focused on economic issues. These books revealed him as a passionate reformer, strongly criticizing the injustices of his time. He advocated for unrestricted free trade and the elimination of medieval institutions that hindered production and national prosperity. The success of his work was immediate and widespread, not only in Italy but across Europe. In 1783, he got married, stepped down from his court positions, and retired to Cava to focus on completing his work. The third book was released the same year, fully addressing the principles of criminal law. His suggestion for reform within the Roman Catholic Church drew criticism from church authorities, and it was condemned by the congregation of the Index in 1784. In 1785, he published three more volumes, which made up the fourth book of his planned work, covering education and ethics. In 1787, he was appointed a member of the supreme treasury council by Ferdinand IV, but his health, weakened by intense study and overwork in his new role, forced him to retreat to the countryside at Vico Equense. He died somewhat unexpectedly on July 21, 1788, shortly after completing the first part of the fifth book of his Scienza. He left behind a plan for the rest of the work, which was intended to be finished in six books.

La Scienza della legislazione has gone through many editions, and has been translated into most of the languages of Europe. The best Italian edition is in 5 vols. 8vo. (1807). The Milan edition (1822) contains the Opusculi scelti and a life by Donato Tommasi. A French translation appeared in Paris in 7 vols. 8vo. (1786-1798); it was republished in 1822-1824, with the addition of the Opuscles and notes by Benjamin Constant. The Science of Legislation was translated into English by Sir R. Clayton (London, 1806).

La Scienza della legislazione has gone through many editions and has been translated into most European languages. The best Italian edition is in 5 volumes, 8vo (1807). The Milan edition (1822) includes the Opusculi scelti and a biography by Donato Tommasi. A French translation was published in Paris in 7 volumes, 8vo (1786-1798); it was reissued in 1822-1824, with added Opuscles and notes by Benjamin Constant. The Science of Legislation was translated into English by Sir R. Clayton (London, 1806).


FILARIASIS, the name of a disease due to the nematode Filaria sanguinis hominis. A milky appearance of the urine, due to the presence of a substance like chyle, which forms a clot, had been observed from time to time, especially in tropical and subtropical countries; and it was proved by Dr Wucherer of Bahia, and by Dr Timothy Lewis, that this peculiar condition is uniformly associated with the presence in the blood of minute eel-like worms, visible only under the microscope, being the embryo forms of a Filaria (see Nematoda). Sometimes the discharge of lymph takes place at one or more points of the surface of the body, and there is in other cases a condition of naevoid elephantiasis of the scrotum, or lymph-scrotum. More or less of blood may occur along with the chylous fluid in the urine. Both the chyluria and the presence of filariae in the blood are curiously intermittent; it may happen that not a single filaria is to be seen during the daytime, while they swarm in the blood at night, and it has been ingeniously shown by Dr S. Mackenzie that they may be made to disappear if the patient sits up all night, reappearing while he sleeps through the day.

FILARIASIS, is a disease caused by the nematode Filaria sanguinis hominis. A milky appearance in the urine, due to a substance resembling chyle that forms a clot, has been observed occasionally, especially in tropical and subtropical regions. Dr. Wucherer from Bahia and Dr. Timothy Lewis demonstrated that this unusual condition is consistently linked to the presence of tiny eel-like worms in the blood, which are only visible under a microscope and are the embryonic forms of a Filaria (see Nematoda). At times, lymph discharge occurs at one or more spots on the body’s surface, and in other cases, there is a condition known as naevus elephantiasis of the scrotum, or lymph-scrotum. Blood may be present alongside the chylous fluid in the urine. Both chyluria and the presence of filariae in the blood are oddly intermittent; there may be times when no filariae are visible during the day, but they are abundant in the blood at night. Dr. S. Mackenzie ingeniously showed that the filariae can disappear if the patient stays sitting up all night, only to reappear while they sleep during the day.

Sir P. Manson proved that mosquitoes imbibe the embryo filariae from the blood of man; and that many of these reach full development within the mosquito, acquiring their freedom when the latter resorts to water, where it dies after depositing its eggs. Mosquitoes would thus be the intermediate host of the filariae, and their introduction into the human body would be through the medium of water (see Parasitic Diseases).

Sir P. Manson demonstrated that mosquitoes take in embryo filariae from human blood, and many of these develop fully inside the mosquito. They become free when the mosquito goes to water, where it dies after laying its eggs. Therefore, mosquitoes act as the intermediate host for the filariae, and they enter the human body through the water (see Parasitic Diseases).


FILDES, SIR LUKE (1844-  ), English painter, was born at Liverpool, and trained in the South Kensington and Royal Academy schools. At first a highly successful illustrator, he took rank later among the ablest English painters, with “The Casual Ward” (1874), “The Widower” (1876), “The Village Wedding” (1883), “An Al-fresco Toilette” (1889); and “The Doctor” (1891), now in the National Gallery of British Art. He also painted a number of pictures of Venetian life and many notable portraits, among them the coronation portraits of King Edward VII. and Queen Alexandra. He was elected an associate of the Royal Academy in 1879, and academician in 1887; and was knighted in 1906.

FILDES, SIR LUKE (1844-  ), English painter, was born in Liverpool and trained at the South Kensington and Royal Academy schools. Initially a very successful illustrator, he later became one of the most talented English painters, with works like “The Casual Ward” (1874), “The Widower” (1876), “The Village Wedding” (1883), “An Al-fresco Toilette” (1889), and “The Doctor” (1891), which is now in the National Gallery of British Art. He also painted several pieces depicting Venetian life and many significant portraits, including the coronation portraits of King Edward VII and Queen Alexandra. He was elected an associate of the Royal Academy in 1879, became an academician in 1887, and was knighted in 1906.

See David Croal Thomson, The Life and Work of Luke Fildes, R.A. (1895).

See David Croal Thomson, The Life and Work of Luke Fildes, R.A. (1895).


FILE. 1. A bar of steel having sharp teeth on its surface, and used for abrading or smoothing hard surfaces. (The O. Eng. word is féol, and cognate forms appear in Dutch vijl, Ger. Feile, &c.; the ultimate source is usually taken to be an Indo-European root meaning to mark or scratch, and seen in the Lat. pingere, to paint.) Some uncivilized tribes polish their weapons with such things as rough stones, pieces of shark skin or fishes’ teeth. The operation of filing is recorded in 1 Sam. xiii. 21; and, among other facts, the similarity of the name for the filing instrument among various European peoples points to an early practice of the art. A file differs from a rasp (which is chiefly used for working wood, horn and the like) in having its teeth cut with a chisel whose straight edge extends across its surface, while the teeth of the rasp are formed by solitary indentations of a pointed chisel. According to the form of their teeth, files may be single-cut or double-cut; the former have only one set of parallel ridges 340 (either at right angles or at some other angle with the length); the latter (and more common) have a second set cut at an angle with the first. The double-cut file presents sharp angles to the filed surface, and is better suited for hard metals. Files are classed according to the fineness of their teeth (see Tool), and their shapes present almost endless varieties. Common forms are—the flat file, of parallelogram section, with uniform breadth and thickness, or tapering, or “bellied”; the four-square file, of square section, sometimes with one side “safe,” or left smooth; and the so-called three-square file, having its cross section an equilateral triangle, the half-round file, a segment of a circle, the round or rat-tail file, a circle, which are generally tapered. The float file is like the flat, but single-cut. There are many others. Files vary in length from three-quarters of an inch (watchmakers’) to 2 or 3 ft. and upwards (engineers’). The length is reckoned exclusively of the spike or tang which enters the handle. Most files are tapered; the blunt are nearly parallel, with larger section near the middle; a few are parallel. The rifflers of sculptors and a few other files are curvilinear in their central line.

FILE. 1. A steel bar with sharp teeth on its surface, used for sanding or smoothing hard surfaces. (The Old English word is féol, with similar forms in Dutch vijl, German Feile, etc.; the main source is typically considered to be an Indo-European root meaning to mark or scratch, as seen in the Latin pingere, meaning to paint.) Some primitive tribes polish their weapons with rough stones, pieces of shark skin, or fish teeth. The process of filing is noted in 1 Sam. xiii. 21; and the resemblance of the name for the filing tool among different European peoples suggests an early tradition of the craft. A file differs from a rasp (which is mainly used for shaping wood, horn, and similar materials) in that its teeth are cut with a chisel whose straight edge goes across its surface, while the teeth of the rasp are created by individual indentations of a pointed chisel. Depending on the arrangement of their teeth, files can be single-cut or double-cut; the former has only one set of parallel ridges (either at right angles or at some other angle to the length); the latter (which is more common) has a second set cut at an angle to the first. The double-cut file presents sharp angles to the surface being filed and is better suited for hard metals. Files are categorized based on the fineness of their teeth (see Tool), and their shapes come in nearly endless variations. Common types include—the flat file, which has a parallelogram shape with uniform breadth and thickness, or tapering, or “bellied”; the four-square file, which is square-shaped, sometimes with one side “safe,” or left smooth; and the three-square file, which has a cross-section in the shape of an equilateral triangle, the half-round file, a segment of a circle, and the round or rat-tail file, which is generally tapered. The float file is similar to the flat, but single-cut. There are many others. Files range in length from three-quarters of an inch (watchmakers’) to 2 or 3 feet and more (engineers’). The length is measured without including the spike or tang that goes into the handle. Most files are tapered; the blunt ones are nearly parallel, with a larger section in the middle; while a few are parallel. The rifflers used by sculptors and some other files have a curvy shape in their central line.

In manufacturing files, steel blanks are forged from bars which have been sheared or rolled as nearly as possible to the sections required, and after being carefully annealed are straightened, if necessary, and then rendered clean and accurate by grinding or filing. The process of cutting them used to be largely performed by hand, but machines are now widely employed. The hand-cutter, holding in his left hand a short chisel (the edge of which is wider than the width of the file), places it on the blank with an inclination from the perpendicular of 12° or 14°, and beginning near the farther end (the blank is placed with the tang or handle end towards him) strikes it sharply with a hammer. An indentation is thus made, and the steel, slightly thrown up on the side next the tang, forms a ridge. The chisel is then transferred to the uncut surface and slid away from the operator till it encounters the ridge just made; the position of the next cut being thus determined, the chisel is again struck, and so on. The workman seeks to strike the blows as uniformly as possible, and he will make 60 or 80 cuts a minute. If the file is to be single-cut, it is now ready to be hardened, but if it is to be double-cut he proceeds to make the second series or course of cuts, which are generally somewhat finer than the first. Thus the surface is covered with teeth inclined towards the point of the file. If the file is flat and is to be cut on the other side, it is turned over, and a thin plate of pewter placed below it to protect the teeth. Triangular and other files are supported in grooves in lead. In cutting round and half-round files, a straight chisel is applied as tangent to the curve. The round face of a half-round file requires eight, ten or more courses to complete it. Numerous attempts were made, even so far back as the 18th century, to invent machinery for cutting files, but little success was attained till the latter part of the 19th century. In most of the machines the idea was to arrange a metal arm and hand to hold the chisel with a hammer to strike the blow, and so to imitate the manual process as closely as possible. The general principle on which the successful forms are constructed is that the blanks, laid on a moving table, are slowly traversed forward under a rapidly reciprocating chisel or knife.

In manufacturing files, steel blanks are created from bars that have been sheared or rolled as closely as possible to the required shapes. After being carefully heated to relieve stress, they are straightened if necessary and then cleaned up through grinding or filing. While the cutting process used to be mostly done by hand, machines are now commonly used. The hand-cutter, holding a short chisel (which has an edge wider than the file) in his left hand, positions it on the blank at an angle of 12° to 14° from vertical and starts near the far end of the blank (with the tang or handle end facing him). He strikes it firmly with a hammer, creating an indentation, which causes the steel to bulge up on the side towards the tang, forming a ridge. The chisel is then moved to the uncut area and slid away from the operator until it meets the newly created ridge, thus determining the next cut. The chisel is struck again, and this continues. The worker aims to make the blows as consistent as possible, achieving about 60 to 80 cuts a minute. If the file is to have a single cut, it’s now ready to be hardened; if it’s to be double cut, the worker goes on to make a second series of cuts, which are generally finer than the first. This creates a surface covered with teeth that are angled towards the tip of the file. If the file is flat and needs cutting on the other side, it is flipped over with a thin plate of pewter placed underneath to protect the teeth. Triangular and other types of files are supported in lead grooves. When cutting round and half-round files, a straight chisel is used tangent to the curve. The round face of a half-round file requires eight, ten, or more passes to finish. Many attempts were made as early as the 18th century to invent machines for cutting files, but significant progress was only achieved in the late 19th century. Most machines operated on the idea of using a metal arm and hand to hold the chisel, with a hammer to deliver the blows, closely mimicking the manual process. The successful designs generally work on the principle where the blanks are placed on a moving table and slowly moved forward under a rapidly moving chisel or knife.

The filing of a flat surface perfectly true is the test of a good filer; and this is no easy matter to the beginner. The piece to be operated upon is generally fixed about the level of the elbow, the operator standing, and, except in the case of small files, grasping the file with both hands, the handle with the right, the farther end with the left. The great point is to be able to move the file forward with pressure in horizontal straight lines; from the tendency of the hands to move in arcs of circles, the heel and point of the file are apt to be alternately raised. This is partially compensated by the bellied form given to many files (which also counteracts the frequent warping effect of the hardening process, by which one side of a flat file may be rendered concave and useless). In bringing back the file for the next thrust it is nearly lifted off the work. Further, much delicacy and skill are required in adapting the pressure and velocity, ascertaining if foreign matters or filings remain interposed between the file and the work, &c. Files can be cleaned with a piece of the so-called cotton-card (used in combing cotton wool) nailed to a piece of wood. In draw-filing, which is sometimes resorted to to give a neat finish, the file is drawn sideways to and fro over the work. New files are generally used for a time on brass or cast-iron, and when partially worn they are still available for filing wrought iron and steel.

The ability to file a flat surface perfectly straight is the mark of a good filer, and it’s not easy for beginners. The piece being worked on is usually positioned at elbow height, with the operator standing and holding the file with both hands—the handle in the right hand and the end with the left. The main challenge is moving the file forward with pressure in straight horizontal lines; since hands tend to move in arcs, the heel and tip of the file often get lifted. Many files are shaped with a slight curve to help counteract this and to prevent one side from becoming concave and unusable due to the hardening process. When pulling the file back for the next stroke, it’s almost lifted off the surface. Additionally, it requires a lot of finesse and skill to adjust the pressure and speed, and to check for any debris or filings stuck between the file and the workpiece, etc. Files can be cleaned using a piece of material called cotton-card (which is used for combing cotton wool) nailed to a stick. In draw-filing, which is sometimes used for a cleaner finish, the file is moved back and forth sideways over the work. New files are typically used on brass or cast iron for a while, and even when they’re a bit worn, they can still be effective for filing wrought iron and steel.

2. A string or thread (through the Fr. fil and file, from Lat. filum, a thread); hence used of a device, originally a cord, wire or spike on which letters, receipts, papers, &c., may be strung for convenient reference. The term has been extended to embrace various methods for the preservation of papers in a particular order, such as expanding books, cabinets, and ingenious improvements on the simple wire file which enable any single document to be readily found and withdrawn without removing the whole series. From the devices used for filing the word is transferred to the documents filed, and thus is used of a catalogue, list, or collection of papers, &c. File is also employed to denote a row of persons or objects arranged one behind the other. In military usage a “file” is the opposite of a “rank,” that is, it is composed of a (variable) number of men aligned from front to rear one behind the other, while a rank contains a number of men aligned from right to left abreast. Thus a British infantry company, in line two deep, one hundred strong, has two ranks of fifty men each, and fifty “files” of two men each. Up to about 1600 infantry companies or battalions were often sixteen deep, one front rank man and the fifteen “coverers” forming a file. The number of ranks and, therefore, of men in the file diminished first to ten (1600), then to six (1630), then to three (1700), and finally to two (about 1808 in the British army, 1888 in the German). Denser formations when employed have been formed, not by altering the order of men within the unit, but by placing several units, one closely behind the other (“doubling” and “trebling” the line of battle, as it used to be called). In the 17th century a file formed a small command under the “file leader,” the whole of the front rank consisting therefore of old soldiers or non-commissioned officers. This use of the word to express a unit of command gave rise to the old-fashioned term “file firing,” to imply a species of fire (equivalent to the modern “independent”) in which each man in the file fired in succession after the file leader, and to-day a corporal or sergeant is still ordered to take one or more files under his charge for independent work. In the above it is to be understood that the men are facing to the front or rear. If they are turned to the right or left so that the company now stands two men broad and fifty deep, it is spoken of as being “in file.” From this come such phrases as “single file” or “Indian file” (one man leading and the rest following singly behind him).1 The use of verbs “to file” and “to defile,” implying the passage from fighting to marching formation, is to be derived from this rather than from the resemblance of a marching column to a long flexible thread, for in the days when the word was first used the infantry company whether in battle or on the march was a solid rectangle of men, a file often containing even more men than a rank.

2. A string or thread (from the French fil and file, which comes from Latin filum, meaning a thread); it refers to a device, originally a cord, wire, or spike on which letters, receipts, papers, etc., can be strung for easy reference. The term has expanded to include various methods for keeping papers in a specific order, like expanding books, cabinets, and clever improvements on the simple wire file that let you easily find and take out any single document without removing the entire set. The term is also applied to the documents being filed, thus referring to a catalog, list, or collection of papers, etc. "File" is also used to describe a row of people or objects arranged one behind the other. In military terms, a “file” is the opposite of a “rank,” meaning it consists of a (variable) number of soldiers lined up from front to back, while a rank has a number of soldiers lined up side by side. For example, a British infantry company, lined up two deep with one hundred men, has two ranks of fifty men each and fifty “files” of two men each. Up until about 1600, infantry companies or battalions often had sixteen men deep, with one front rank man and fifteen "coverers" forming a file. The number of ranks, and therefore the number of men in the file, first reduced to ten (1600), then to six (1630), then to three (1700), and finally to two (around 1808 in the British army, 1888 in the German). Denser formations, when used, were formed not by changing the order of men within the unit, but by placing several units closely behind each other (“doubling” and “trebling” the line of battle, as it used to be called). In the 17th century, a file was a small command under the “file leader,” meaning the entire front rank was made up of experienced soldiers or non-commissioned officers. This use of the word to describe a command unit led to the old-fashioned term “file firing,” which referred to a type of firing (similar to the modern “independent”) where each soldier in the file shot in turn after the file leader, and today a corporal or sergeant is still given the task of managing one or more files for independent work. It should be understood that the soldiers are facing the front or rear. If they are turned to the right or left so that the company stands two men wide and fifty deep, it is referred to as being “in file.” This gives rise to phrases like “single file” or “Indian file” (one person leading and the rest following behind him one at a time). The verbs “to file” and “to defile,” which indicate the transition from combat to marching formation, come from this use rather than the comparison of a marching column to a long flexible thread, because back when this word was first used, an infantry company—whether in battle or on the march—was a solid rectangle of soldiers, often having more men in a file than in a rank.


1 This may also be understood as meaning simply “a single file,” but the explanation given above is more probable, as it is essentially a marching and not a fighting formation that is expressed by the phrase.

1 This can also be understood to mean just "a single file,” but the explanation provided above is more likely, as it essentially refers to a marching formation rather than a fighting one.


FILE-FISH, or Trigger-Fish, the names given to fishes of the genus Balistes (and Monacanthus) inhabiting all tropical and subtropical seas. Their body is compressed and not covered with ordinary scales, but with small juxtaposed scutes. Their other principal characteristics consist in the structure of their first dorsal fin (which consists of three spines) and in their peculiar dentition. The first of the three dorsal spines is very strong, roughened in front like a file, and hollowed out behind to receive the second much smaller spine, which, besides, has a projection in front, at its base, fitting into a notch of the first. Thus these two spines can only be raised or depressed simultaneously, in such a manner that the first cannot be forced down unless the second has been previously depressed. The latter has been compared to a trigger, hence the name of Trigger-fish. Also the 341 generic name Balistes and the Italian name of “Pesce balistra” refer to this structure. Both jaws are armed with eight strong incisor-like and sometimes pointed teeth, by which these fishes are enabled, not only to break off pieces of madrepores and other corals on which they feed, but also to chisel a hole into the hard shells of Mollusca, in order to extract the soft parts. In this way they destroy an immense number of molluscs, and become most injurious to the pearl-fisheries. The gradual failure of those fisheries in Ceylon has been ascribed to this cause, although evidently other agencies must have been at work at the same time. The Monacanthi are distinguished from the Balistes in having only one dorsal spine and a velvety covering of the skin. Some 30 different species are known of Balistes and about 50 of Monacanthus. Two species (B. maculatus and capriscus), common in the Atlantic, sometimes wander to the British coasts.

FILE-FISH, or Triggerfish are names for fish in the genus Balistes (and Monacanthus) found in all tropical and subtropical seas. Their bodies are flattened and covered not with regular scales, but with small, overlapping bony plates. Their main characteristics include the structure of their first dorsal fin, which has three spines, as well as their unique teeth. The first of the three dorsal spines is very robust, rough in the front like a file, and hollowed out in the back to hold the second, much smaller spine, which also has a projection at its base fitting into a notch of the first. This design means that both spines can only be moved together, so the first cannot be pressed down unless the second is moved first. The second spine has been likened to a trigger, which is why these fish are called Trigger-fish. The generic name Balistes and the Italian name “Pesce balistra” also reference this structure. Both jaws have eight strong, incisor-like, and sometimes pointed teeth, enabling these fish to break off pieces of madrepores and other corals they feed on, as well as to chisel into the hard shells of mollusks to extract the soft parts. This way, they destroy a huge number of mollusks, becoming very harmful to pearl fisheries. The decline of those fisheries in Ceylon has been attributed to this, although other factors must have also played a role. The Monacanthi differ from the Balistes by having only one dorsal spine and a velvety skin covering. About 30 different species of Balistes and around 50 of Monacanthus are known. Two species (B. maculatus and capriscus), which are common in the Atlantic, occasionally drift to the British coasts.

Balistes vidua.

FILELFO, FRANCESCO (1398-1481), Italian humanist, was born in 1398 at Tolentino, in the March of Ancona. When he appeared upon the scene of human life, Petrarch and the students of Florence had already brought the first act in the recovery of classic culture to conclusion. They had created an eager appetite for the antique, had disinterred many important Roman authors, and had freed Latin scholarship to some extent from the barbarism of the middle ages. Filelfo was destined to carry on their work in the field of Latin literature, and to be an important agent in the still unaccomplished recovery of Greek culture. His earliest studies in grammar, rhetoric and the Latin language were conducted at Padua, where he acquired so great a reputation for learning that in 1417 he was invited to teach eloquence and moral philosophy at Venice. According to the custom of that age in Italy, it now became his duty to explain the language, and to illustrate the beauties of the principal Latin authors, Cicero and Virgil being considered the chief masters of moral science and of elegant diction. Filelfo made his mark at once in Venice. He was admitted to the society of the first scholars and the most eminent nobles of that city; and in 1419 he received an appointment from the state, which enabled him to reside as secretary to the consul-general (baylo) of the Venetians in Constantinople. This appointment was not only honourable to Filelfo as a man of trust and general ability, but it also gave him the opportunity of acquiring the most coveted of all possessions at that moment for a scholar—a knowledge of the Greek language. Immediately after his arrival in Constantinople, Filelfo placed himself under the tuition of John Chrysoloras, whose name was already well known in Italy as relative of Manuel, the first Greek to profess the literature of his ancestors in Florence. At the recommendation of Chrysoloras he was employed in several diplomatic missions by the emperor John Palaeologus. Before very long the friendship between Filelfo and his tutor was cemented by the marriage of the former to Theodora, the daughter of John Chrysoloras. He had now acquired a thorough knowledge of the Greek language, and had formed a large collection of Greek manuscripts. There was no reason why he should not return to his native country. Accordingly, in 1427 he accepted an invitation from the republic of Venice, and set sail for Italy, intending to resume his professorial career. From this time forward until the date of his death, Filelfo’s history consists of a record of the various towns in which he lectured, the masters whom he served, the books he wrote, the authors he illustrated, the friendships he contracted, and the wars he waged with rival scholars. He was a man of vast physical energy, of inexhaustible mental activity, of quick passions and violent appetites; vain, restless, greedy of gold and pleasure and fame; unable to stay quiet in one place, and perpetually engaged in quarrels with his compeers.

FILELFO, FRANCESCO (1398-1481), an Italian humanist, was born in 1398 in Tolentino, in the March of Ancona. By the time he entered the world, Petrarch and the students of Florence had already completed the first phase of recovering classic culture. They had sparked a strong interest in ancient texts, unearthed many important Roman authors, and to some extent liberated Latin scholarship from the barbarism of the Middle Ages. Filelfo was meant to continue their work in Latin literature and play a significant role in the still unfinished revival of Greek culture. He began his studies in grammar, rhetoric, and Latin at Padua, where he gained such a reputation for his knowledge that in 1417 he was invited to teach eloquence and moral philosophy in Venice. Consistent with the norms of that era in Italy, he was now tasked with explaining the language and showcasing the beauty of major Latin authors, particularly Cicero and Virgil, who were seen as the top masters of moral science and elegant expression. Filelfo quickly made an impact in Venice. He was welcomed into the circles of the leading scholars and most distinguished nobles of the city, and in 1419 he secured a position from the state that allowed him to work as secretary to the consul-general (baylo) of the Venetians in Constantinople. This role not only honored Filelfo as a trustworthy individual with broad abilities but also provided him with the chance to acquire the most sought-after asset for a scholar at that time—a mastery of the Greek language. Shortly after arriving in Constantinople, Filelfo studied under John Chrysoloras, a name already well-known in Italy as a relative of Manuel, the first Greek to teach the literature of his ancestors in Florence. At Chrysoloras' suggestion, he undertook several diplomatic missions for the emperor John Palaeologus. Before long, the friendship between Filelfo and his teacher deepened when he married Theodora, the daughter of John Chrysoloras. By this time, he had gained an extensive understanding of Greek and built a large collection of Greek manuscripts. There was no longer any reason for him to stay abroad. So, in 1427, he accepted an invitation from the Republic of Venice and set sail for Italy, planning to resume his teaching career. From then until his death, Filelfo’s life consisted of a record of the various towns where he lectured, the mentors he worked with, the books he wrote, the authors he illustrated, the friendships he formed, and the rivalries he engaged in with other scholars. He was a man of immense physical energy, boundless mental activity, quick emotions, and intense desires; vain, restless, and eager for wealth, pleasure, and recognition; unable to remain settled in one place, and constantly embroiled in conflicts with his peers.

When Filelfo arrived at Venice with his family in 1427, he found that the city had almost been emptied by the plague, and that his scholars would be few. He therefore removed to Bologna; but here also he was met with drawbacks. The city was too much disturbed with political dissensions to attend to him; so Filelfo crossed the Apennines and settled in Florence. At Florence began one of the most brilliant and eventful periods of his life. During the week he lectured to large audiences of young and old on the principal Greek and Latin authors, and on Sundays he explained Dante to the people in the Duomo. In addition to these labours of the chair, he found time to translate portions of Aristotle, Plutarch, Xenophon and Lysias from the Greek. Nor was he dead to the claims of society. At first he seems to have lived with the Florentine scholars on tolerably good terms; but his temper was so arrogant that Cosimo de’ Medici’s friends were not long able to put up with him. Filelfo hereupon broke out into open and violent animosity; and when Cosimo was exiled by the Albizzi party in 1433, he urged the signoria of Florence to pronounce upon him the sentence of death. On the return of Cosimo to Florence, Filelfo’s position in that city was no longer tenable. His life, he asserted, had been already once attempted by a cut-throat in the pay of the Medici; and now he readily accepted an invitation from the state of Siena. In Siena, however, he was not destined to remain more than four years. His fame as a professor had grown great in Italy, and he daily received tempting offers from princes and republics. The most alluring of these, made him by the duke of Milan, Filippo Maria Visconti, he decided on accepting; and in 1440 he was received with honour by his new master in the capital of Lombardy.

When Filelfo arrived in Venice with his family in 1427, he found the city nearly deserted due to the plague, and realized he would have very few students. So, he moved to Bologna; however, he faced issues there as well. The city was too troubled by political strife to focus on him, so Filelfo crossed the Apennines and settled in Florence. Florence marked the start of one of the most brilliant and eventful periods of his life. During the week, he lectured to large crowds of both young and old on the main Greek and Latin authors, and on Sundays he explained Dante to the people in the Duomo. Alongside these teaching efforts, he also found time to translate parts of Aristotle, Plutarch, Xenophon, and Lysias from Greek. He remained engaged with society as well. Initially, he seemed to get along fairly well with the Florentine scholars, but his arrogant demeanor soon led Cosimo de’ Medici’s friends to grow tired of him. This caused Filelfo to express open and violent hostility; when Cosimo was exiled by the Albizzi party in 1433, he urged the ruling council of Florence to sentence him to death. After Cosimo returned to Florence, Filelfo could no longer maintain his position in the city. He claimed that his life had already been threatened once by an assassin hired by the Medici; thus, he readily accepted an invitation from the state of Siena. However, he didn’t stay in Siena for more than four years. His reputation as a professor had grown significant in Italy, and he was constantly receiving enticing offers from various princes and republics. The most tempting of these came from the duke of Milan, Filippo Maria Visconti, which he chose to accept; in 1440, he was welcomed with honor by his new master in the capital of Lombardy.

Filelfo’s life at Milan curiously illustrates the multifarious importance of the scholars of that age in Italy. It was his duty to celebrate his princely patrons in panegyrics and epics, to abuse their enemies in libels and invectives, to salute them with encomiastic odes on their birthdays, and to compose poems on their favourite themes. For their courtiers he wrote epithalamial and funeral orations; ambassadors and visitors from foreign states he greeted with the rhetorical lucubrations then so much in vogue. The students of the university he taught in daily lectures, passing in review the weightiest and lightest authors of antiquity, and pouring forth a flood of miscellaneous erudition. Not satisfied with these outlets for his mental energy, Filelfo went on translating from the Greek, and prosecuted a paper warfare with his enemies in Florence. He wrote, moreover, political pamphlets on the great events of Italian history; and when Constantinople was taken by the Turks, he procured the liberation of his wife’s mother by a message addressed in his own name to the sultan. In addition to a fixed stipend of some 700 golden florins yearly, he was continually in receipt of special payments for the orations and poems he produced; so that, had he been a man of frugal habits or of moderate economy, he might have amassed a considerable fortune. As it was, he spent his money as fast as he received it, living in a style of splendour ill befitting a simple scholar, and indulging his taste for pleasure in more than questionable amusements. In consequence of this prodigality, he was always poor. His letters and his poems abound in impudent demands for money from patrons, some of them couched in language of the lowest adulation, and others savouring of literary brigandage.

Filelfo’s life in Milan strikingly demonstrates the diverse role of scholars during that time in Italy. He was expected to honor his wealthy patrons with praise in poems and epics, attack their foes in slanderous writings, celebrate them with flattering odes on their birthdays, and create poems on their favorite subjects. For their courtiers, he wrote wedding and funeral speeches; ambassadors and foreign visitors were greeted with the trendy rhetorical flourishes of the day. He taught university students through daily lectures, reviewing both the most important and the lighter works of ancient authors, and sharing a flood of various knowledge. Not content with these outlets for his intellectual energy, Filelfo also translated from Greek and engaged in a war of words with his enemies in Florence. He additionally wrote political pamphlets about significant events in Italian history; when Constantinople fell to the Turks, he managed to secure the release of his wife’s mother by sending a message in his own name to the sultan. Along with a steady salary of about 700 golden florins each year, he frequently received extra payments for the speeches and poems he created; thus, had he been more frugal or wise with his finances, he could have built a substantial fortune. Instead, he spent his money as quickly as he earned it, living in a lavish style unbefitting a mere scholar, and indulging in questionable pleasures. As a result of this extravagance, he was always broke. His letters and poems are full of bold requests for money from patrons, with some written in the lowest form of flattery and others resembling literary extortion.

During the second year of his Milanese residence Filelfo lost his first wife, Theodora. He soon married again; and this time he chose for his bride a young lady of good Lombard family, called Orsina Osnaga. When she died he took in wedlock for 342 the third time a woman of Lombard birth, Laura Magiolini. To all his three wives, in spite of numerous infidelities, he seems to have been warmly attached; and this is perhaps the best trait in a character otherwise more remarkable for arrogance and heat than for any amiable qualities.

During his second year living in Milan, Filelfo lost his first wife, Theodora. He quickly remarried, this time choosing a young woman from a respectable Lombard family named Orsina Osnaga. After her death, he married for the third time a woman of Lombard origin, Laura Magiolini. Despite his many infidelities, he appears to have been deeply attached to all three of his wives, and this may be the most admirable aspect of a character that is generally known for arrogance and intensity rather than for any pleasant traits.

On the death of Filippo Maria Visconti, Filelfo, after a short hesitation, transferred his allegiance to Francesco Sforza, the new duke of Milan; and in order to curry favour with this parvenu, he began his ponderous epic, the Sforziad, of which 12,800 lines were written, but which was never published. When Francesco Sforza died, Filelfo turned his thoughts towards Rome. He was now an old man of seventy-seven years, honoured with the friendship of princes, recognized as the most distinguished of Italian humanists, courted by pontiffs, and decorated with the laurel wreath and the order of knighthood by kings. Crossing the Apennines and passing through Florence, he reached Rome in the second week of 1475. The terrible Sixtus IV. now ruled in the Vatican; and from this pope Filelfo had received an invitation to occupy the chair of rhetoric with good emoluments. At first he was vastly pleased with the city and court of Rome; but his satisfaction ere long turned to discontent, and he gave vent to his ill-humour in a venomous satire on the pope’s treasurer, Milliardo Cicala. Sixtus himself soon fell under the ban of his displeasure; and when a year had passed he left Rome never to return. Filelfo reached Milan to find that his wife had died of the plague in his absence, and was already buried. His own death followed speedily. For some time past he had been desirous of displaying his abilities and adding to his fame in Florence. Years had healed the breach between him and the Medicean family; and on the occasion of the Pazzi conspiracy against the life of Lorenzo de’ Medici, he had sent violent letters of abuse to his papal patron Sixtus, denouncing his participation in a plot so dangerous to the security of Italy. Lorenzo now invited him to profess Greek at Florence, and thither Filelfo journeyed in 1481. But two weeks after his arrival he succumbed to dysentery, and was buried at the age of eighty-three in the church of the Annunziata.

On the death of Filippo Maria Visconti, Filelfo, after a brief hesitation, shifted his loyalty to Francesco Sforza, the new duke of Milan. To win favor with this social climber, he began his heavy epic, the Sforziad, writing 12,800 lines, but it was never published. After Francesco Sforza died, Filelfo turned his attention to Rome. He was now an old man, seventy-seven years old, honored with the friendship of princes, recognized as the most distinguished of Italian humanists, sought after by popes, and awarded the laurel wreath and knighthood by kings. Crossing the Apennines and passing through Florence, he arrived in Rome in the second week of 1475. The formidable Sixtus IV. ruled in the Vatican at that time, and Filelfo had received an invitation from this pope to take the chair of rhetoric with good pay. Initially, he was very pleased with the city and the court of Rome; however, his satisfaction soon turned to discontent, leading him to express his frustration in a sharp satire against the pope’s treasurer, Milliardo Cicala. Sixtus himself soon became the target of his displeasure, and after a year, he left Rome never to return. When Filelfo got back to Milan, he found that his wife had died of the plague while he was away and was already buried. His own death followed quickly. For some time, he had wanted to show his talents and enhance his reputation in Florence. Years had mended the rift between him and the Medici family; during the Pazzi conspiracy against Lorenzo de’ Medici’s life, he had sent fierce letters of condemnation to his papal patron Sixtus, denouncing his involvement in a plot so threatening to Italy's security. Lorenzo now invited him to teach Greek in Florence, and Filelfo made the trip in 1481. But just two weeks after he arrived, he succumbed to dysentery and was buried at the age of eighty-three in the church of the Annunziata.

Filelfo deserves commemoration among the greatest humanists of the Italian Renaissance, not for the beauty of his style, not for the elevation of his genius, not for the accuracy of his learning, but for his energy, and for his complete adaptation to the times in which he lived. His erudition was large but ill-digested; his knowledge of the ancient authors, if extensive, was superficial; his style was vulgar; he had no brilliancy of imagination, no pungency of epigram, no grandeur of rhetoric. Therefore he has left nothing to posterity which the world would not very willingly let die. But in his own days he did excellent service to learning by his untiring activity, and by the facility with which he used his stores of knowledge. It was an age of accumulation and preparation, when the world was still amassing and cataloguing the fragments rescued from the wrecks of Greece and Rome. Men had to receive the very rudiments of culture before they could appreciate its niceties. And in this work of collection and instruction Filelfo excelled, passing rapidly from place to place, stirring up the zeal for learning by the passion of his own enthusiastic temperament, and acting as a pioneer for men like Poliziano and Erasmus.

Filelfo deserves recognition as one of the greatest humanists of the Italian Renaissance, not for the beauty of his writing, not for the brilliance of his intellect, and not for the precision of his knowledge, but for his energy and his complete adaptation to the times in which he lived. His scholarship was vast but poorly organized; his familiarity with ancient authors, while broad, was shallow; his writing was ordinary; he lacked imaginative brilliance, sharp wit, and grand rhetoric. As a result, he left nothing to future generations that the world would be eager to preserve. However, in his own time, he made significant contributions to learning through his tireless efforts and the ease with which he shared his knowledge. It was a time of gathering and preparation, when the world was still collecting and sorting through the fragments salvaged from the ruins of Greece and Rome. People needed to learn the basics of culture before they could appreciate its finer points. In this task of collection and education, Filelfo excelled, moving quickly from place to place, igniting enthusiasm for learning with his passionate approach and paving the way for figures like Poliziano and Erasmus.

All that is worth knowing about Filelfo is contained in Carlo de’ Rosmini’s admirable Vita di Filelfo (Milan, 1808); see also W. Roscoe’s Life of Lorenzo de’ Medici, Vespasiano’s Vite di uomini illustri, and J.A. Symonds’s Renaissance in Italy (1877).

All the important information about Filelfo can be found in Carlo de’ Rosmini’s excellent Vita di Filelfo (Milan, 1808); also check out W. Roscoe’s Life of Lorenzo de’ Medici, Vespasiano’s Vite di uomini illustri, and J.A. Symonds’s Renaissance in Italy (1877).

(J. A. S.)

A complete edition of Filelfo’s Greek letters (based on the Codex Trevulzianus) was published for the first time, with French translation, notes and commentaries, by E. Legrand in 1892 at Paris (C. xii. of Publications de l’école des lang. orient.). For further references, especially to monographs, &c., on Filelfo’s life and work, see Ulysse Chevalier, Répertoire des sources hist., bio-bibliographie (Paris, 1905), s.v. Philelphe, François.

A complete edition of Filelfo’s Greek letters (based on the Codex Trevulzianus) was published for the first time, including French translation, notes, and commentaries, by E. Legrand in 1892 in Paris (C. xii. of Publications de l’école des lang. orient.). For more references, especially to monographs, etc., on Filelfo’s life and work, see Ulysse Chevalier, Répertoire des sources hist., bio-bibliographie (Paris, 1905), s.v. Philelphe, François.


FILEY, a seaside resort in the Buckrose parliamentary division of the East Riding of Yorkshire, England, 9-1/2 m. S.E. of Scarborough by a branch of the North Eastern railway. Pop. of urban district (1901) 3003. It stands upon the slope and summit of the cliffs above Filey Bay, which is fringed by a fine sandy beach. The northern horn of the bay is formed by Filey Brigg, a narrow and abrupt promontory, continued seaward by dangerous reefs. The coast-line sweeps hence south-eastward to the finer promontory of Flamborough Head, beyond which is the watering-place of Bridlington. The church of St Oswald at Filey is a fine cruciform building with central tower, Transitional Norman and Early English in date. There are pleasant promenades and good golf links, also a small spa which has fallen into disuse. Filey is in favour with visitors who desire a quiet resort without the accompaniment of entertainment common to the larger watering-places. Roman remains have been discovered on the cliff north of the town; the site was probably important, but nothing is certainly known about it.

FILEY, is a seaside resort in the Buckrose parliamentary division of the East Riding of Yorkshire, England, located 9.5 miles southeast of Scarborough by a branch of the North Eastern railway. The population of the urban district was 3,003 in 1901. It sits on the slope and top of the cliffs overlooking Filey Bay, which has a beautiful sandy beach. The northern tip of the bay is formed by Filey Brigg, a narrow and steep promontory that extends seaward into dangerous reefs. The coastline curves southeast toward the impressive Flamborough Head, beyond which lies the resort town of Bridlington. The church of St Oswald in Filey is a remarkable cruciform structure with a central tower, dating back to the Transitional Norman and Early English periods. There are nice promenades, good golf links, and a small spa that has fallen out of use. Filey is popular with visitors looking for a peaceful resort without the entertainment that is common in larger seaside towns. Roman remains have been found on the cliffs north of the town; the site was likely significant, but nothing is definitively known about it.


FILIBUSTER, a name originally given to the buccaneers (q.v.). The term is derived most probably from the Dutch vry buiter, Ger. Freibeuter, Eng. freebooter, the word changing first into fribustier, and then into Fr. flibustier, Span. filibustero. Flibustier has passed into the French language, and filibustero into the Spanish language, as a general name for a pirate. The term “filibuster” was revived in America to designate those adventurers who, after the termination of the war between Mexico and the United States, organized expeditions within the United States to take part in West Indian and Central American revolutions. From this has sprung the modern use of the word to imply one who engages in private, unauthorized and irregular warfare against any state. In the United States it is colloquially applied to legislators who practise obstruction.

FILIBUSTER, is a term originally used for buccaneers (q.v.). It's likely derived from the Dutch vry buiter, German Freibeuter, and English freebooter, evolving first into fribustier, then into French flibustier and Spanish filibustero. The term flibustier has entered the French language, while filibustero is used in Spanish as a general term for a pirate. In America, “filibuster” was brought back to describe those adventurers who, after the war between Mexico and the United States, organized expeditions within the U.S. to join West Indian and Central American revolutions. This has led to the modern use of the word to refer to someone who engages in private, unauthorized, and irregular warfare against any state. In the United States, it’s commonly used to describe legislators who engage in obstruction.


FILICAJA, VINCENZO DA (1642-1707), Italian poet, sprung from an ancient and noble family of Florence, was born in that city on the 30th of December 1642. From an incidental notice in one of his letters, stating the amount of house rent paid during his childhood, his parents must have been in easy circumstances, and the supposition is confirmed by the fact that he enjoyed all the advantages of a liberal education, first under the Jesuits of Florence, and then in the university of Pisa.

FILICAJA, VINCENZO DA (1642-1707), an Italian poet from an ancient and noble family in Florence, was born in that city on December 30, 1642. A mention in one of his letters about the amount of rent paid for their home during his childhood suggests that his family was relatively well-off. This assumption is backed up by the fact that he received a quality education, first with the Jesuits in Florence and then at the University of Pisa.

At Pisa his mind became stored, not only with the results of patient study in various branches of letters, but with the great historical associations linked with the former glory of the Pisan republic, and with one remarkable institution of which Pisa was the seat. To the tourist who now visits Pisa the banners and emblems of the order of St Stephen are mere matter of curiosity, but they had a serious significance two hundred years ago to the young Tuscan, who knew that these naval crusaders formed the main defence of his country and commerce against the Turkish, Algerine and Tunisian corsairs. After a five years’ residence in Pisa he returned to Florence, where he married Anna, daughter of the senator and marquis Scipione Capponi, and withdrew to a small villa at Figline, not far from the city. Abjuring the thought of writing amatory poetry in consequence of the premature death of a young lady to whom he had been attached, he occupied himself chiefly with literary pursuits, above all the composition of Italian and Latin poetry. His own literary eminence, the opportunities enjoyed by him as a member of the celebrated Academy Della Crusca for making known his critical taste and classical knowledge, and the social relations within the reach of a noble Florentine so closely allied with the great house of Capponi, sufficiently explain the intimate terms on which he stood with such eminent men of letters as Magalotti, Menzini, Gori and Redi. The last-named, the author of Bacchus in Tuscany, was not only one of the most brilliant poets of his time, and a safe literary adviser; he was the court physician, and his court influence was employed with zeal and effect in his friend’s favour. Filicaja’s rural seclusion was owing even more to his straitened means than to his rural tastes. If he ceased at length to pine in obscurity, the change was owing not merely to the fact that his poetical genius, fired by the deliverance of Vienna from the Turks in 1683, poured forth the right strains at the right time, but also to the influence of Redi, who not only laid Filicaja’s verses before his own sovereign, but had them transmitted with the least possible delay to the foreign princes whose noble deeds they sung. The first recompense came, however, not from those princes, but from Christina, the ex-queen of Sweden, who, from her circle of savants and 343 courtiers at Rome, spontaneously and generously announced to Filicaja her wish to bear the expense of educating his two sons, enhancing her kindness by the delicate request that it should remain a secret.

At Pisa, he filled his mind not only with the knowledge gained from years of diligent study in various fields of literature but also with the significant historical connections to the former glory of the Pisan republic and one remarkable institution based there. To modern tourists visiting Pisa, the banners and symbols of the Order of St. Stephen may seem like mere curiosities, but they held real significance for a young Tuscan two hundred years ago. He understood that these naval crusaders were the primary defense of his country and commerce against the Turkish, Algerian, and Tunisian corsairs. After living in Pisa for five years, he returned to Florence, where he married Anna, the daughter of Senator and Marquis Scipione Capponi, and moved to a small villa in Figline, not far from the city. After the early death of a young woman he had cared for, he gave up writing love poetry and focused mainly on literary pursuits, especially writing Italian and Latin poetry. His own literary achievements, the chances he had as a member of the renowned Academy Della Crusca to showcase his critical taste and classical expertise, and the social connections available to a noble Florentine closely tied to the great Capponi family, explain why he had such a close relationship with notable literary figures like Magalotti, Menzini, Gori, and Redi. The last of these, the author of Bacchus in Tuscany, was not only one of the brightest poets of his time and a reliable literary advisor; he was also the court physician, and he advocated for his friend with great enthusiasm and effectiveness. Filicaja’s rural retreat was due even more to his limited finances than to his rural preferences. If he eventually stopped suffering in obscurity, it was not only because his poetic talent, inspired by the liberation of Vienna from the Turks in 1683, produced the right verses at the right time, but also because of Redi's influence. Redi not only brought Filicaja's poems to the attention of his own monarch but also quickly sent them to the foreign princes whose noble actions they celebrated. However, the first reward did not come from those princes; it came from Christina, the former queen of Sweden, who, from her circle of scholars and courtiers in Rome, generously offered to pay for the education of Filicaja’s two sons, enhancing her generosity with the thoughtful request that it remain a secret.

The tide of Filicaja’s fortunes now turned. The grand-duke of Tuscany, Cosmo III., conferred on him an important office, the commissionership of official balloting. He was named governor of Volterra in 1696, where he strenuously exerted himself to raise the tone of public morality. Both there and at Pisa, where he was subsequently governor in 1700, his popularity was so great that on his removal the inhabitants of both cities petitioned for his recall. He passed the close of his life at Florence; the grand-duke raised him to the rank of senator, and he died in that city on the 24th of September 1707. He was buried in the family vault in the church of St Peter, and a monument was erected to his memory by his sole surviving son Scipione Filicaja. In the six celebrated odes inspired by the great victory of Sobieski, Filicaja took a lyrical flight which has placed him at moments on a level with the greatest Italian poets. They are, however, unequal, like all his poetry, reflecting in some passages the native vigour of his genius and purest inspirations of his tastes, whilst in others they are deformed by the affectations of the Seicentisti. When thoroughly natural and spontaneous—as in the two sonnets “Italia, Italia, o tu cui feo la sorte” and “Dov’ è, Italia, il tuo braccio? e a che ti serve;” in the verses “Alla beata Vergine,” “Al divino amore;” in the sonnet “Sulla fede nelle disgrazie”—the truth and beauty of thought and language recall the verse of Petrarch.

The tide of Filicaja’s fortunes changed. The grand-duke of Tuscany, Cosmo III, appointed him to an important position, the commissioner of official balloting. He became the governor of Volterra in 1696, where he worked hard to improve public morality. Both there and in Pisa, where he was later governor in 1700, he was so popular that when he was removed, the residents of both cities petitioned for his return. He spent the last years of his life in Florence; the grand-duke elevated him to the rank of senator, and he died in that city on September 24, 1707. He was buried in the family vault in the church of St. Peter, and a monument was put up in his honor by his only surviving son, Scipione Filicaja. In the six famous odes inspired by the great victory of Sobieski, Filicaja reached a lyrical height that places him at times among the greatest Italian poets. However, they are inconsistent, like all his poetry, reflecting in some parts the natural strength of his genius and the purest inspirations of his tastes, while in others they are affected by the styles of the Seicentisti. When they are genuinely natural and spontaneous—like in the two sonnets “Italia, Italia, o tu cui feo la sorte” and “Dov’ è, Italia, il tuo braccio? e a che ti serve;” in the verses “Alla beata Vergine,” “Al divino amore;” and in the sonnet “Sulla fede nelle disgrazie”—the truth and beauty of thought and language remind us of Petrarch's verse.

Besides the poems published in the complete Venice edition of 1762, several other pieces appeared for the first time in the small Florence edition brought out by Barbera in 1864.

Besides the poems published in the complete Venice edition of 1762, several other pieces were released for the first time in the small Florence edition published by Barbera in 1864.


FILIGREE (formerly written filigrain or filigrane; the Ital. filigrana, Fr. filigrane, Span, filigrana, Ger. Drahtgeflecht), jewel work of a delicate kind made with twisted threads usually of gold and silver. The word, which is usually derived from the Lat. filum, thread, and granum, grain, is not found in Ducange, and is indeed of modern origin. According to Prof. Skeat it is derived from the Span. filigrana, from “filar, to spin, and grano, the grain or principal fibre of the material.” Though filigree has become a special branch of jewel work in modern times it was anciently part of the ordinary work of the jeweller. Signor A. Castellani states, in his Memoir on the Jewellery of the Ancients (1861), that all the jewelry of the Etruscans and Greeks (other than that intended for the grave, and therefore of an unsubstantial character) was made by soldering together and so building up the gold rather than by chiselling or engraving the material.

FILIGREE (formerly written filigrain or filigrane; the Ital. filigrana, Fr. filigrane, Span, filigrana, Ger. Drahtgeflecht), is a delicate form of jewelry made with twisted threads usually of gold and silver. The term, which is typically derived from the Latin filum, meaning thread, and granum, meaning grain, is not found in Ducange and is indeed of modern origin. According to Prof. Skeat, it comes from the Spanish filigrana, from “filar, to spin, and grano, the grain or main fiber of the material.” While filigree has become a distinct branch of jewelry making in modern times, it was once a typical part of a jeweler's work. Signor A. Castellani states in his Memoir on the Jewellery of the Ancients (1861) that all the jewelry of the Etruscans and Greeks (except for that intended for the grave, which was of a less durable type) was made by soldering pieces together to build up the gold rather than by chiseling or engraving the material.

The art may be said to consist in curling, twisting and plaiting fine pliable threads of metal, and uniting them at their points of contact with each other, and with the ground, by means of gold or silver solder and borax, by the help of the blowpipe. Small grains or beads of the same metals are often set in the eyes of volutes, on the junctions, or at intervals at which they will set off the wire-work effectively. The more delicate work is generally protected by framework of stouter wire. Brooches, crosses, earrings and other personal ornaments of modern filigree are generally surrounded and subdivided by bands of square or flat metal, giving consistency to the filling up, which would not otherwise keep its proper shape. Some writers of repute have laid equal stress on the filum and the granum, and have extended the use of the term filigree to include the granulated work of the ancients, even where the twisted wire-work is entirely wanting. Such a wide application of the term is not approved by current usage, according to which the presence of the twisted threads is the predominant fact.

The art can be described as curling, twisting, and braiding fine, flexible metal threads, joining them where they touch each other and the ground with gold or silver solder and borax using a blowpipe. Small grains or beads made from the same metals are often placed in the eyes of scrolls, at junctions, or at intervals where they enhance the wirework effectively. The more delicate pieces are usually supported by a framework of thicker wire. Modern filigree includes brooches, crosses, earrings, and other personal ornaments, typically surrounded and divided by bands of square or flat metal, which gives structure to the filling that wouldn't otherwise maintain its proper shape. Some respected writers emphasize both the filum and the granum and have broadened the term filigree to cover the granulated work of ancient artisans, even where the twisted wirework is completely absent. However, this broad use of the term isn't accepted in current terminology, which holds that the presence of twisted threads is the main characteristic.

The Egyptian jewellers employed wire, both to lay down on a background and to plait or otherwise arrange à jour. But, with the exception of chains, it cannot be said that filigree work was much practised by them. Their strength lay rather in their cloisonné work and their moulded ornaments. Many examples, however, remain of round plaited gold chains of fine wire, such as are still made by the filigree workers of India, and known as Trichinopoly chains. From some of these are hung smaller chains of finer wire with minute fishes and other pendants fastened to them. In ornaments derived from Phoenician sites, such as Cyprus and Sardinia, patterns of gold wire are laid down with great delicacy on a gold ground, but the art was advanced to its highest perfection in the Greek and Etruscan filigree of the 6th to the 3rd centuries B.C. A number of earrings and other personal ornaments found in central Italy are preserved in the Louvre and in the British Museum. Almost all of them are made of filigree work. Some earrings are in the form of flowers of geometric design, bordered by one or more rims each made up of minute volutes of gold wire, and this kind of ornament is varied by slight differences in the way of disposing the number or arrangement of the volutes. But the feathers and petals of modern Italian filigree are not seen in these ancient designs. Instances occur, but only rarely, in which filigree devices in wire are self-supporting and not applied to metal plates. The museum of the Hermitage at St Petersburg contains an amazingly rich collection of jewelry from the tombs of the Crimea. Many bracelets and necklaces in that collection are made of twisted wire, some in as many as seven rows of plaiting, with clasps in the shape of heads of animals of beaten work. Others are strings of large beads of gold, decorated with volutes, knots and other patterns of wire soldered over the surfaces. (See the Antiquités du Bosphore Cimmérien, by Gille, 1854; reissued by S. Reinach, 1892, in which will be found careful engravings of these objects.) In the British Museum a sceptre, probably that of a Greek priestess, is covered with plaited and netted gold wire, finished with a sort of Corinthian capital and a boss of green glass.

The Egyptian jewelers used wire to create intricate backgrounds and to weave or arrange designs in an openwork style. However, aside from chains, they didn't do much filigree work. Their expertise was more in cloisonné techniques and molded ornaments. Still, there are many examples of round braided gold chains made from fine wire, similar to those still produced by India's filigree artisans, known as Trichinopoly chains. Smaller chains made of finer wire with tiny fish and other pendants hang from some of these. In ornaments from Phoenician sites in places like Cyprus and Sardinia, delicate patterns of gold wire are laid on a gold background, but the art reached its peak in Greek and Etruscan filigree from the 6th to the 3rd centuries B.C. Several earrings and other personal ornaments found in central Italy can be seen in the Louvre and the British Museum, with almost all of them made from filigree techniques. Some earrings feature floral designs in a geometric style, bordered by one or more rims made up of tiny spirals of gold wire, with variations in how the spirals are arranged. However, the feather and petal designs you see in modern Italian filigree don't appear in these ancient designs. There are a few rare examples where filigree wire designs are self-supporting rather than applied to metal plates. The Hermitage Museum in St. Petersburg holds an incredibly rich collection of jewelry from Crimea tombs. Many bracelets and necklaces in that collection are made of twisted wire, some featuring as many as seven rows of braiding, with clasps shaped like animal heads made from beaten metal. Others consist of large gold beads decorated with spirals, knots, and other wire patterns soldered onto the surfaces. (See the Antiquités du Bosphore Cimmérien, by Gille, 1854; reissued by S. Reinach, 1892, which includes detailed engravings of these items.) In the British Museum, there is a scepter, likely belonging to a Greek priestess, covered with braided and netted gold wire, topped with a Corinthian capital and a green glass boss.

It is probable that in India and various parts of central Asia filigree has been worked from the most remote period without any change in the designs. Whether the Asiatic jewellers were influenced by the Greeks settled on that continent, or merely trained under traditions held in common with them, it is certain that the Indian filigree workers retain the same patterns as those of the ancient Greeks, and work them in the same way, down to the present day. Wandering workmen are given so much gold, coined or rough, which is weighed, heated in a pan of charcoal, beaten into wire, and then worked in the courtyard or verandah of the employer’s house according to the designs of the artist, who weighs the complete work on restoring it and is paid at a specified rate for his labour. Very fine grains or beads and spines of gold, scarcely thicker than coarse hair, projecting from plates of gold are methods of ornamentation still used.

It’s likely that in India and various parts of Central Asia, filigree has been created since ancient times without any change in the designs. Whether Asian jewelers were influenced by the Greeks who settled in that region or simply trained under similar traditions, it’s clear that Indian filigree artisans still use the same patterns as ancient Greeks and apply them in the same way to this day. Traveling craftsmen are given a certain amount of gold, whether coins or raw, which is weighed, heated in a charcoal pan, beaten into wire, and then worked in the courtyard or porch of the employer’s house according to the artist's designs. The artist weighs the final product when it's done and is paid a set rate for their work. Techniques involving very fine grains or beads and gold spines, which are almost as thin as coarse hair and project from gold plates, are still in use.

Passing to later times we may notice in many collections of medieval jewel work (such as that in the South Kensington Museum) reliquaries, covers for the gospels, &c., made either in Constantinople from the 6th to the 12th centuries, or in monasteries in Europe, in which Byzantine goldsmiths’ work was studied and imitated. These objects, besides being enriched with precious stones, polished, but not cut into facets, and with enamel, are often decorated with filigree. Large surfaces of gold are sometimes covered with scrolls of filigree soldered on; and corner pieces of the borders of book covers, or the panels of reliquaries, are not unfrequently made up of complicated pieces of plaited work alternating with spaces encrusted with enamel. Byzantine filigree work occasionally has small stones set amongst the curves or knots. Examples of such decoration can be seen in the South Kensington and British Museums.

As we move to later times, we can see in many collections of medieval jewelry (like the one at the South Kensington Museum) reliquaries, covers for the Gospels, etc., made either in Constantinople from the 6th to the 12th centuries or in monasteries across Europe, where Byzantine goldsmithing was studied and imitated. These pieces, in addition to being adorned with precious stones that are polished but not faceted, and with enamel, are often embellished with filigree. Large areas of gold are sometimes covered with scrolls of filigree that are soldered on; and the corner pieces of book cover borders or the panels of reliquaries often consist of intricate woven designs alternating with areas decorated with enamel. Byzantine filigree work sometimes features small stones set among the curves or knots. You can find examples of this kind of decoration in the South Kensington and British Museums.

In the north of Europe the Saxons, Britons and Celts were from an early period skilful in several kinds of goldsmiths’ work. Admirable examples of filigree patterns laid down in wire on gold, from Anglo-Saxon tombs, may be seen in the British Museum—notably a brooch from Dover, and a sword-hilt from Cumberland.

In northern Europe, the Saxons, Britons, and Celts were skilled in various forms of goldsmithing from an early time. Impressive examples of intricate wire filigree designs on gold, found in Anglo-Saxon graves, can be seen in the British Museum—especially a brooch from Dover and a sword hilt from Cumberland.

The Irish filigree work is more thoughtful in design and more varied in pattern than that of any period or country that could be named. Its highest perfection must be placed in the 10th and 11th centuries. The Royal Irish Academy in Dublin contains a number of reliquaries and personal jewels, of which filigree is the general and most remarkable ornament. The “Tara” brooch has been copied and imitated, and the shape and 344 decoration of it are well known. Instead of fine curls or volutes of gold thread, the Irish filigree is varied by numerous designs in which one thread can be traced through curious knots and complications, which, disposed over large surfaces, balance one another, but always with special varieties and arrangements difficult to trace with the eye. The long thread appears and disappears without breach of continuity, the two ends generally worked into the head and the tail of a serpent or a monster. The reliquary containing the “Bell of St Patrick” is covered with knotted work in many varieties. A two-handled chalice, called the “Ardagh cup,” found near Limerick in 1868, is ornamented with work of this kind of extraordinary fineness. Twelve plaques on a band round the body of the vase, plaques on each handle and round the foot of the vase have a series of different designs of characteristic patterns, in fine filigree wire work wrought on the front of the repoussé ground. (See a paper by the 3rd earl of Dunraven in Transactions of Royal Irish Academy, xxiv. pt. iii. 1873.)

The Irish filigree work is more thoughtful in design and more varied in pattern than any period or country that could be named. Its highest perfection is found in the 10th and 11th centuries. The Royal Irish Academy in Dublin holds several reliquaries and personal jewels, where filigree is the main and most remarkable decoration. The “Tara” brooch has been replicated and mimicked, and its shape and decoration are well known. Instead of just fine curls or swirls of gold thread, Irish filigree is distinguished by numerous designs where one thread weaves through intricate knots and complexities. Spread across large surfaces, these designs balance each other out, but always with unique varieties and arrangements that can be hard to follow with the eye. The long thread comes in and out without breaking continuity, with the two ends usually formed into the head and tail of a serpent or a monster. The reliquary holding the “Bell of St Patrick” is covered with knotted work in various styles. A two-handled chalice known as the “Ardagh cup”, discovered near Limerick in 1868, is decorated with this type of extraordinarily fine work. Twelve plaques form a band around the body of the vase, with plaques on each handle and around the base featuring a range of different designs in characteristic patterns, crafted from fine filigree wire on the front of the repoussé background. (See a paper by the 3rd Earl of Dunraven in Transactions of Royal Irish Academy, xxiv. pt. iii. 1873.)

Much of the medieval jewel work all over Europe down to the 15th century, on reliquaries, crosses, croziers and other ecclesiastical goldsmiths’ work, is set off with bosses and borders of filigree. Filigree work in silver was practised by the Moors of Spain during the middle ages with great skill, and was introduced by them and established all over the Peninsula, whence it was carried to the Spanish colonies in America. The Spanish filigree work of the 17th and 18th centuries is of extraordinary complexity (examples in the Victoria and Albert Museum), and silver filigree jewelry of delicate and artistic design is still made in considerable quantities throughout the country. The manufacture spread over the Balearic Islands, and among the populations that border the Mediterranean. It is still made all over Italy, and in Malta, Albania, the Ionian Islands and many other parts of Greece. That of the Greeks is sometimes on a large scale, with several thicknesses of wires alternating with larger and smaller bosses and beads, sometimes set with turquoises, &c., and mounted on convex plates, making rich ornamental headpieces, belts and breast ornaments. Filigree silver buttons of wire-work and small bosses are worn by the peasants in most of the countries that produce this kind of jewelry. Silver filigree brooches and buttons are also made in Denmark, Norway and Sweden. Little chains and pendants are added to much of this northern work.

Much of the medieval jewelry across Europe up to the 15th century, including reliquaries, crosses, croziers, and other ecclesiastical goldsmiths' work, features bosses and borders of filigree. The Moors in Spain practiced silver filigree work with great skill during the Middle Ages, introducing it across the Peninsula, from where it spread to the Spanish colonies in America. The Spanish filigree of the 17th and 18th centuries is impressively intricate (with examples in the Victoria and Albert Museum), and delicate, artistic silver filigree jewelry continues to be produced in large quantities throughout the country. The craft expanded to the Balearic Islands and among populations along the Mediterranean. It is still made all over Italy, as well as in Malta, Albania, the Ionian Islands, and many other parts of Greece. In Greece, it's often large-scale, with several layers of wire alternating with various sized bosses and beads, sometimes set with turquoise, etc., and mounted on convex plates, creating elaborate headpieces, belts, and breast ornaments. Silver filigree buttons made of wire and small bosses are worn by peasants in most countries that create this type of jewelry. Silver filigree brooches and buttons are also crafted in Denmark, Norway, and Sweden, with little chains and pendants often added to much of this northern work.

Some very curious filigree work was brought from Abyssinia after the capture of Magdala—arm-guards, slippers, cups, &c., some of which are now in the South Kensington Museum. They are made of thin plates of silver, over which the wire-work is soldered. The filigree is subdivided by narrow borders of simple pattern, and the intervening spaces are made up of many patterns, some with grains set at intervals.

Some really interesting filigree work was brought from Abyssinia after the capture of Magdala—arm guards, slippers, cups, etc., some of which are now in the South Kensington Museum. They’re made of thin silver plates, over which the wire work is soldered. The filigree is divided by narrow borders with simple patterns, and the spaces in between are filled with many patterns, some featuring grains set at intervals.

A few words must be added as to the granulated work which, as stated above, some writers have classed under the term of filigree, although the twisted wires may be altogether wanting. Such decoration consists of minute globules of gold, soldered to form patterns on a metal surface. Its use is rare in Egypt. (See J. de Morgan, Fouilles à Dahchour, 1894-1895, pl. xii.) It occurs in Cyprus at an early period, as for instance on a gold pendant in the British Museum from Enkomi in Cyprus (10th century B.C.). The pendant is in the form of a pomegranate, and has upon it a pattern of triangles, formed by more than 3000 minute globules separately soldered on. It also occurs on ornaments of the 7th century B.C. from Camirus in Rhodes. But these globules are large, compared with those which are found on Etruscan jewelry. Signor Castellani, who had made the antique jewelry of the Etruscans and Greeks his special study, with the intention of reproducing the ancient models, found it for a long time impossible to revive this particular process of delicate soldering. He overcame the difficulty at last, by the discovery of a traditional school of craftsmen at St Angelo in Vado, by whose help his well-known reproductions were executed.

A few words should be added about the granulated work which, as mentioned before, some writers have referred to as filigree, even though there might not be any twisted wires involved. This type of decoration consists of tiny gold beads that are soldered together to create patterns on a metal surface. Its use is uncommon in Egypt. (See J. de Morgan, Fouilles à Dahchour, 1894-1895, pl. xii.) It appears in Cyprus at an early period, such as on a gold pendant in the British Museum from Enkomi, Cyprus (10th century BCE). The pendant is shaped like a pomegranate and features a pattern of triangles made from over 3000 tiny beads, each separately soldered on. It also appears on 7th-century BCE ornaments from Camirus in Rhodes. However, these beads are larger compared to those found in Etruscan jewelry. Signor Castellani, who focused on the antique jewelry of the Etruscans and Greeks in order to recreate ancient designs, initially found it difficult to revive this particular delicate soldering technique. Eventually, he solved this issue by discovering a traditional school of craftsmen in St Angelo in Vado, who assisted him in creating his famous reproductions.

For examples of antique work the student should examine the gold ornament rooms of the British Museum, the Louvre and the collection in the Victoria and Albert Museum. The last contains a large and very varied assortment of modern Italian, Spanish, Greek and other jewelry made for the peasants of various countries. It also possesses interesting examples of the modern work in granulated gold by Castellani and Giuliano. The Celtic work is well represented in the Royal Irish Academy in Dublin.

For examples of antique work, students should check out the gold ornament rooms at the British Museum, the Louvre, and the collection at the Victoria and Albert Museum. The last one has a large and diverse selection of modern Italian, Spanish, Greek, and other jewelry made for the peasants of various countries. It also features intriguing examples of contemporary work in granulated gold by Castellani and Giuliano. The Celtic work is well represented at the Royal Irish Academy in Dublin.


FILLAN, SAINT, or Faelan, the name of the two Scottish saints, of Irish origin, whose lives are of a purely legendary character. The St Fillan whose feast is kept on the 20th of June had churches dedicated to his honour at Ballyheyland, Queen’s county, Ireland, and at Loch Earn, Perthshire. The other, who is commemorated on the 9th of January, was specially venerated at Cluain Mavscua, Co. Westmeath, Ireland, and so early as the 8th or 9th century at Strathfillan, Perthshire, Scotland, where there was an ancient monastery dedicated to him, which, like most of the religious houses of early times, was afterwards secularized. The lay-abbot, who was its superior in the reign of William the Lion, held high rank in the Scottish kingdom. This monastery was restored in the reign of Robert Bruce, and became a cell of the abbey of canons regular at Inchaffray. The new foundation received a grant from King Robert, in gratitude for the aid which he was supposed to have obtained from a relic of the saint on the eve of the great victory of Bannockburn. Another relic was the saint’s staff or crozier, which became known as the coygerach or quigrich, and was long in the possession of a family of the name of Jore or Dewar, who were its hereditary guardians. They certainly had it in their custody in the year 1428, and their right was formally recognized by King James III. in 1487. The head of the crozier, which is of silver-gilt with a smaller crozier of bronze inclosed within it, is now deposited in the National Museum of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland.

FILLAN, SAINT, or Faelan, the name of two Scottish saints with Irish roots, whose stories are purely legendary. St Fillan, whose feast is celebrated on June 20th, had churches dedicated to him in Ballyheyland, Queen’s County, Ireland, and at Loch Earn, Perthshire. The other saint, honored on January 9th, was especially revered at Cluain Mavscua, Co. Westmeath, Ireland, and as early as the 8th or 9th century at Strathfillan, Perthshire, Scotland, where an old monastery was established in his name. This monastery, like many religious houses from those early days, was later secularized. The lay-abbot, who was in charge during the reign of William the Lion, held a prominent position in the Scottish kingdom. The monastery was revived during the reign of Robert Bruce and became a cell of the abbey of canons regular at Inchaffray. The new foundation received a grant from King Robert, in thanks for the assistance he supposedly received from a relic of the saint on the eve of his significant victory at Bannockburn. Another relic was the saint’s staff or crozier, known as the coygerach or quigrich, which remained with a family named Jore or Dewar, who were its hereditary keepers. They definitely had it in their possession in 1428, and their claim was officially recognized by King James III in 1487. The head of the crozier, made of silver-gilt with a smaller bronze crozier inside it, is now housed in the National Museum of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland.

The legend of the second of these saints is given in the Bollandist Acta SS. (1643), 9th of January, i. 594-595; A.P. Forbes, Kalendars of Scottish Saints (Edinburgh, 1872), pp. 341-346; D. O’Hanlon’s Lives of Irish Saints (Dublin), n.d. pp. 134-144. See also Historical Notices of St Fillan’s Crozier, by Dr John Stuart (Aberdeen, 1877).

The story of the second of these saints can be found in the Bollandist Acta SS. (1643), January 9th, i. 594-595; A.P. Forbes, Kalendars of Scottish Saints (Edinburgh, 1872), pp. 341-346; D. O’Hanlon’s Lives of Irish Saints (Dublin), n.d. pp. 134-144. Also, check out Historical Notices of St Fillan’s Crozier, by Dr. John Stuart (Aberdeen, 1877).


FILLET (through Fr. filet, from the med. Lat. filettum, diminutive of filum, a thread), a band or ribbon used for tying the hair, the Lat. vitta, which was used as a sacrificial emblem, and also worn by vestal virgins, brides and poets. The word is thus applied to anything in the shape of a band or strip, as, in coining, to the metal ribbon from which the blanks are punched. In architecture, a “fillet” is a narrow flat band, sometimes called a “listel,” which is used to separate mouldings one from the other, or to terminate a suite of mouldings as at the top of a cornice. In the fluted column of the Ionic and Corinthian Orders the fillet is employed between the flutes. It is a very important feature in Gothic work, being frequently worked on large mouldings; when placed on the front and sides of the moulding of a rib it has been termed the “keel and wings” of the rib.

FILLET (from Fr. filet, derived from medieval Latin filettum, a diminutive of filum, meaning a thread), is a band or ribbon used for tying hair. The Latin term vitta was used as a sacrificial symbol and was worn by vestal virgins, brides, and poets. The term is also used for anything that resembles a band or strip, such as the metal ribbon used in coin minting from which blanks are punched. In architecture, a “fillet” is a narrow flat band, sometimes referred to as a “listel,” which separates one molding from another or serves to finish a series of moldings at the top of a cornice. In the fluted columns of the Ionic and Corinthian Orders, the fillet is found between the flutes. It plays a significant role in Gothic architecture, often featured on large moldings; when positioned on the front and sides of a rib molding, it has been called the “keel and wings” of the rib.

In cooking, “fillet” is used of the “undercut” of a sirloin of beef, or of a thick slice of fish or meat; more particularly of a boned and rolled piece of veal or other meat, tied by a “fillet” or string.

In cooking, “fillet” refers to the “undercut” of a sirloin of beef, or a thick slice of fish or meat; more specifically, it denotes a boned and rolled piece of veal or other meat, tied with a “fillet” or string.


FILLMORE, MILLARD (1800-1874), thirteenth president of the United States of America, came of a family of English stock, which had early settled in New England. His father, Nathaniel, in 1795, made a clearing within the limits of what is now the town of Summerhill, Cayuga county, New York, and there Millard Fillmore was born, on the 7th of January 1800. Until he was fifteen he could have acquired only the simplest rudiments of education, and those chiefly from his parents. At that age he was apprenticed to a fuller and clothier, to card wool, and to dye and dress the cloth. Two years before the close of his term, with a promissory note for thirty dollars, he bought the remainder of his time from his master, and at the age of nineteen began to study law. In 1820 he made his way to Buffalo, then only a village, and supported himself by teaching school and aiding the postmaster while continuing his studies.

FILLMORE, MILLARD (1800-1874), the thirteenth president of the United States, came from a family of English descent that had settled in New England early on. His father, Nathaniel, cleared land in what is now Summerhill, Cayuga County, New York, in 1795, where Millard Fillmore was born on January 7, 1800. Until he turned fifteen, he only received the most basic education, primarily from his parents. At that age, he became an apprentice to a fuller and clothier, where he learned to card wool, dye, and dress cloth. Two years before his apprenticeship ended, he purchased the remaining time from his master with a thirty-dollar promissory note, and at nineteen, he started studying law. In 1820, he moved to Buffalo, which was then just a village, and supported himself by teaching school and assisting the postmaster while continuing his studies.

In 1823 he was admitted to the bar, and began practice at Aurora, New York, to which place his father had removed. Hard study, temperance and integrity gave him a good reputation and moderate success, and in 1827 he was made an attorney 345 and, in 1829, counsellor of the supreme court of the state. Returning to Buffalo in 1830 he formed, in 1832, a partnership with Nathan K. Hall (1810-1874), later a member of Congress and postmaster-general in his cabinet. Solomon G. Haven (1810-1861), member of Congress from 1851 to 1857, joined them in 1836. The firm met with great success. From 1829 to 1832 Fillmore served in the state assembly, and, in the single term of 1833-1835, the national House of Representatives, coming in as anti-Jackson, or in opposition to the administration. From 1837 to 1843, when he declined further service, he again represented his district in the House, this time as a member of the Whig party. In Congress he opposed the annexation of Texas as slave territory, was an advocate of internal improvements and a protective tariff, supported J.Q. Adams in maintaining the right of offering anti-slavery petitions, advocated the prohibition by Congress of the slave trade between the states, and favoured the exclusion of slavery from the District of Columbia. His speech and tone, however, were moderate on these exciting subjects, and he claimed the right to stand free of pledges, and to adjust his opinions and his course by the development of circumstances. The Whigs having the ascendancy in the Twenty-Seventh Congress, he was made chairman of the House Committee of Ways and Means. Against a strong opposition he carried an appropriation of $30,000 to Morse’s telegraph, and reported from his committee the Tariff Bill of 1842. In 1844 he was the Whig candidate for the governorship of New York, but was defeated. In November 1847 he was elected comptroller of the state of New York, and in 1848 he was elected vice-president of the United States on the ticket with Zachary Taylor as president. Fillmore presided over the senate during the exciting debates on the “Compromise Measures of 1850.”

In 1823, he was admitted to the bar and started practicing in Aurora, New York, where his father had relocated. Hard work, self-discipline, and integrity earned him a solid reputation and moderate success. By 1827, he became an attorney and, in 1829, a counselor of the state supreme court. After returning to Buffalo in 1830, he formed a partnership in 1832 with Nathan K. Hall (1810-1874), who later became a member of Congress and postmaster general in his cabinet. Solomon G. Haven (1810-1861), who served in Congress from 1851 to 1857, joined them in 1836. Their firm enjoyed significant success. From 1829 to 1832, Fillmore served in the state assembly and, during the single term of 1833-1835, in the national House of Representatives, entering as an anti-Jackson representative, opposing the administration. From 1837 to 1843, when he chose not to serve further, he represented his district in the House again, this time as a member of the Whig party. In Congress, he opposed the annexation of Texas as a slave territory, advocated for internal improvements and a protective tariff, supported J.Q. Adams in upholding the right to present anti-slavery petitions, pushed for Congress to prohibit the slave trade between the states, and favored excluding slavery from the District of Columbia. However, his speech and tone were moderate on these contentious issues, and he asserted his right to remain free from pledges, adjusting his views and actions based on evolving circumstances. With the Whigs in control of the Twenty-Seventh Congress, he was appointed chairman of the House Committee on Ways and Means. Despite strong opposition, he successfully secured a $30,000 appropriation for Morse’s telegraph and reported the Tariff Bill of 1842 from his committee. In 1844, he was the Whig candidate for governor of New York but lost the election. In November 1847, he was elected comptroller of the state of New York, and in 1848, he was elected vice president of the United States on the ticket with Zachary Taylor as president. Fillmore presided over the Senate during the intense debates on the "Compromise Measures of 1850."

President Taylor died on the 9th of July 1850, and on the next day Fillmore took the oath of office as his successor. The cabinet which he called around him contained Daniel Webster, Thomas Corwin and John J. Crittenden. On the death of Webster in 1852, Edward Everett became secretary of state. Unlike Taylor, Fillmore favoured the “Compromise Measures,” and his signing one of them, the Fugitive Slave Law, in spite of the vigorous protests of anti-slavery men, lost him much of his popularity in the North. Few of his opponents, however, questioned his own full persuasion that the Compromise Measures were vitally necessary to pacify the nation. In 1851 he interposed promptly but ineffectively in thwarting the projects of the “filibusters,” under Narciso Lopez for the invasion of Cuba. Commodore Matthew Calbraith Perry’s expedition, which opened up diplomatic relations with Japan, and the exploration of the valley of the Amazon by Lieutenants William L. Herndon (1813-1857) and Lardner Gibbon also occurred during his term. In the autumn of 1852 he was an unsuccessful candidate for nomination for the presidency by the Whig National Convention, and he went out of office on the 4th of March 1853. In February 1856, while he was travelling abroad, he was nominated for the presidency by the American or Know Nothing party, and later this nomination was also accepted by the Whigs; but in the ensuing presidential election, the last in which the Know Nothings and the Whigs as such took any part, he received the electoral votes of only one state, Maryland. Thereafter he took no public share in political affairs. Fillmore was twice married: in 1826 to Abigail Powers (who died in 1853, leaving him with a son and daughter), and in 1858 to Mrs. Caroline C. Mclntosh. He died at Buffalo on the 8th of March 1874.

President Taylor died on July 9, 1850, and the next day Fillmore took the oath of office as his successor. His cabinet included Daniel Webster, Thomas Corwin, and John J. Crittenden. After Webster's death in 1852, Edward Everett became Secretary of State. Unlike Taylor, Fillmore supported the “Compromise Measures,” and his signing of the Fugitive Slave Law, despite strong protests from anti-slavery advocates, cost him a lot of support in the North. However, few of his opponents doubted his belief that the Compromise Measures were essential to maintain peace in the nation. In 1851, he acted quickly but ineffectively to stop the “filibusters” led by Narciso Lopez from invading Cuba. Commodore Matthew Calbraith Perry’s expedition, which established diplomatic relations with Japan, and the exploration of the Amazon River by Lieutenants William L. Herndon (1813-1857) and Lardner Gibbon also took place during his presidency. In the fall of 1852, he unsuccessfully sought the presidential nomination from the Whig National Convention and left office on March 4, 1853. In February 1856, while traveling abroad, he was nominated for president by the American or Know Nothing party, a nomination that was later also accepted by the Whigs; however, in the upcoming presidential election—the last one in which the Know Nothings and the Whigs participated—he received electoral votes from only one state, Maryland. After that, he withdrew from public political life. Fillmore was married twice: first in 1826 to Abigail Powers (who passed away in 1853, leaving him with a son and daughter), and then in 1858 to Mrs. Caroline C. McIntosh. He died in Buffalo on March 8, 1874.

In 1907 the Buffalo Historical Society, of which Fillmore was one of the founders and the first president, published the Millard Fillmore Papers (2 vols., vol. x. and xi. of the Society’s publications; edited by F.H. Severance), containing miscellaneous writings and speeches, and official and private correspondence. Most of his correspondence, however, was destroyed in pursuance of a direction in his son’s will.

In 1907, the Buffalo Historical Society, where Fillmore was a founding member and the first president, published the Millard Fillmore Papers (2 vols., vol. x and xi of the Society’s publications; edited by F.H. Severance). This collection included various writings, speeches, and both official and personal correspondence. However, most of his correspondence was destroyed following a directive in his son’s will.


FILMER, SIR RORERT (d. 1653), English political writer, was the son of Sir Edward Filmer of East Sutton in Kent. He studied at Trinity College, Cambridge, where he matriculated in 1604. Knighted by Charles I. at the beginning of his reign, he was an ardent supporter of the king’s cause, and his house is said to have been plundered by the parliamentarians ten times. He died on the 26th of May 1653.

FILMER, SIR ROBERT (d. 1653), English political writer, was the son of Sir Edward Filmer from East Sutton in Kent. He studied at Trinity College, Cambridge, where he enrolled in 1604. Knighted by Charles I at the start of his reign, he was a passionate supporter of the king’s cause, and his home is reported to have been looted by parliamentarians ten times. He died on May 26, 1653.

Filmer was already a middle-aged man when the great controversy between the king and the Commons roused him into literary activity. His writings afford an exceedingly curious example of the doctrines held by the most extreme section of the Divine Right party. Filmer’s theory is founded upon the statement that the government of a family by the father is the true original and model of all government. In the beginning of the world God gave authority to Adam, who had complete control over his descendants, even as to life and death. From Adam this authority was inherited by Noah; and Filmer quotes as not unlikely the tradition that Noah sailed up the Mediterranean and allotted the three continents of the Old World to the rule of his three sons. From Shem, Ham and Japheth the patriarchs inherited the absolute power which they exercised over their families and servants; and from the patriarchs all kings and governors (whether a single monarch or a governing assembly) derive their authority, which is therefore absolute, and founded upon divine right. The difficulty that a man “by the secret will of God may unjustly” attain to power which he has not inherited appeared to Filmer in no way to alter the nature of the power so obtained, for “there is, and always shall be continued to the end of the world, a natural right of a supreme father over every multitude.” The king is perfectly free from all human control. He cannot be bound by the acts of his predecessors, for which he is not responsible; nor by his own, for “impossible it is in nature that a man should give a law unto himself”—a law must be imposed by another than the person bound by it. With regard to the English constitution, he asserted, in his Freeholder’s Grand Inquest touching our Sovereign Lord the King and his Parliament (1648), that the Lords only give counsel to the king, the Commons only “perform and consent to the ordinances of parliament,” and the king alone is the maker of laws, which proceed purely from his will. It is monstrous that the people should judge or depose their king, for they would then be judges in their own cause.

Filmer was already in his middle years when the major conflict between the king and the Commons inspired him to write. His works provide a fascinating glimpse into the beliefs of the most extreme faction of the Divine Right party. Filmer’s theory is based on the idea that a father's governance over a family is the true original model of all forms of government. In the beginning, God granted authority to Adam, who held complete control over his descendants, including matters of life and death. This authority was passed down to Noah; Filmer even mentions the tradition that Noah sailed across the Mediterranean and assigned the three continents of the Old World to his three sons. From Shem, Ham, and Japheth, the patriarchs inherited absolute power over their families and servants; all kings and rulers—whether a single monarch or a governing body—derive their authority from these patriarchs, which is therefore absolute and rooted in divine right. The fact that a man might attain power he hasn’t inherited "by the secret will of God" didn’t change how Filmer viewed that power; he believed "there is, and will always be, a natural right of a supreme father over every multitude." The king is entirely free from human control. He isn’t bound by the actions of his predecessors, for which he isn’t accountable; nor by his own, since "it is impossible by nature for a man to give a law to himself"—a law must be imposed by someone other than the person it binds. Regarding the English constitution, he argued in his Freeholder’s Grand Inquest touching our Sovereign Lord the King and his Parliament (1648) that the Lords merely advise the king, the Commons only "carry out and agree to the ordinances of parliament," and the king alone creates laws that stem purely from his will. It is outrageous for the people to judge or remove their king, as that would make them judges in their own case.

The most complete expression of Filmer’s opinions is given in the Patriarcha, which was published in 1680, many years after his death. His position, however, was sufficiently indicated by the works which he published during his lifetime: the Anarchy of a Limited and Mixed Monarchy (1648), an attack upon a treatise on monarchy by Philip Hunton (1604?-1682), who maintained that the king’s prerogative is not superior to the authority of the houses of parliament; the pamphlet entitled The Power of Kings, and in particular of the King of England (1648), first published in 1680; and his Observations upon Mr Hobbes’s Leviathan, Mr Milton against Salmasius, and H. Grotius De jure belli et pacis, concerning the Originall of Government (1652). Filmer’s theory, owing to the circumstances of the time, obtained a recognition which it is now difficult to understand. Nine years after the publication of the Patriarcha, at the time of the Revolution which banished the Stuarts from the throne, Locke singled out Filmer as the most remarkable of the advocates of Divine Right, and thought it worth while to attack him expressly in the first part of the Treatise on Government, going into all his arguments seriatim, and especially pointing out that even if the first steps of his argument be granted, the rights of the eldest born have been so often set aside that modern kings can claim no such inheritance of authority as he asserted.

The clearest expression of Filmer’s views is found in the Patriarcha, published in 1680, long after his death. However, his stance was well reflected in the works he published while he was alive: the Anarchy of a Limited and Mixed Monarchy (1648), a criticism of a treatise on monarchy by Philip Hunton (1604?-1682), who argued that the king’s powers do not outweigh the authority of Parliament; the pamphlet The Power of Kings, and in particular of the King of England (1648), first published in 1680; and his Observations upon Mr Hobbes’s Leviathan, Mr Milton against Salmasius, and H. Grotius De jure belli et pacis, concerning the Originall of Government (1652). Due to the circumstances of the time, Filmer's theory gained a recognition that is hard to comprehend today. Nine years after the release of the Patriarcha, during the Revolution that ousted the Stuarts from the throne, Locke identified Filmer as the most notable supporter of Divine Right and thought it important to challenge him directly in the first part of the Treatise on Government, addressing all his arguments seriatim and specifically noting that even if the initial premises of his argument were accepted, the rights of the eldest born have been so frequently disregarded that modern kings cannot claim any such inherited authority as he claimed.


FILMY FERNS, a general name for a group of ferns with delicate much-divided leaves and often moss-like growth, belonging to the genera Hymenophyllum, Todea and Trichomanes. They require to be kept in close cases in a cool fernery, and the stones and moss amongst which they are grown must be kept continually moist so that the evaporated water condenses on the very numerous divisions of the leaves.

FILMY FERNS, is a general term for a group of ferns with delicate, finely divided leaves that often resemble moss. They belong to the genera Hymenophyllum, Todea, and Trichomanes. These ferns need to be kept in enclosed spaces in a cool fernery, and the stones and moss around them must always be kept moist so that the evaporated water condenses on the many divisions of their leaves.


FILON, PIERRE MARIE AUGUSTIN (1841-  ), French man of letters, son of the historian Charles Auguste Désiré Filon (1800-1875), was born in Paris in 1841. His father became professor of history at Douai, and eventually “inspecteur d’académie” in Paris; his principal works were 346 Histoire comparée de France et de l’Angleterre (1832), Histoire de l’Europe au XVIe siècle (1838), La Diplomatie française sous Louis XV (1843), Histoire de l’Italie méridionale (1849), Histoire du sénat romain (1850), Histoire de la démocratie athénienne (1854). Educated at the École normale, Augustin Filon was appointed tutor to the prince imperial and accompanied him to England, where he remained for some years. He is the author of Guy Patin, sa vie, sa correspondance (1862); Nos grands-pères (1887); Prosper Mérimée (1894); Sous la tyrannie (1900). On English subjects he has written chiefly under the pseudonym of Pierre Sandrié, Les Mariages de Londres (1875); Histoire de la littérature anglaise (1883); Le Théâtre anglais (1896), and La Caricature en Angleterre (1902).

FILON, PIERRE MARIE AUGUSTIN (1841-  ), French writer, son of the historian Charles Auguste Désiré Filon (1800-1875), was born in Paris in 1841. His father became a history professor in Douai and later an “inspecteur d’académie” in Paris; his main works include 346 Histoire comparée de France et de l’Angleterre (1832), Histoire de l’Europe au XVIe siècle (1838), La Diplomatie française sous Louis XV (1843), Histoire de l’Italie méridionale (1849), Histoire du sénat romain (1850), and Histoire de la démocratie athénienne (1854). Educated at the École normale, Augustin Filon was appointed tutor to the prince imperial and went with him to England, where he stayed for several years. He is the author of Guy Patin, sa vie, sa correspondance (1862); Nos grands-pères (1887); Prosper Mérimée (1894); Sous la tyrannie (1900). He has written mainly on English topics under the pseudonym Pierre Sandrié, including Les Mariages de Londres (1875); Histoire de la littérature anglaise (1883); Le Théâtre anglais (1896), and La Caricature en Angleterre (1902).


FILOSA (A. Lang), one of the two divisions of Rhizopoda, characterized by protoplasm granular at the surface, and fine pseudopodia branching and usually acutely pointed at the tips.

FILOSA (A. Lang), one of the two branches of Rhizopoda, is defined by its surface that has granular protoplasm and fine pseudopodia that branch out and typically have sharply pointed tips.


FILTER (a word common in various forms to most European languages, adapted from the medieval Lat. filtrum, felt, a material used as a filtering agent), an arrangement for separating solid matter from liquids. In some cases the operation of filtration is performed for the sake of removing impurities from the filtrate or liquid filtered, as in the purification of water for drinking purposes; in others the aim is to recover and collect the solid matter, as when the chemist filters off a precipitate from the liquid in which it is suspended.

FILTER (a term found in various forms across most European languages, derived from the medieval Latin filtrum, meaning felt, a material used for filtering), refers to a setup designed to separate solid particles from liquids. Sometimes, the process of filtration is done to eliminate impurities from the liquid being filtered, like when purifying water for drinking; other times, it's done to retrieve and collect the solid material, such as when a chemist filters out a precipitate from the liquid it's in.

In regard to the purification of water, filtration was long looked upon as merely a mechanical process of straining out the solid particles, whereby a turbid water could be rendered clear. In the course of time it was noticed that certain materials, such as charcoal, had the power to some extent also of softening hard water and of removing organic matter, and at the beginning of the 19th century charcoal, both animal and vegetable, came into use for filtering purposes. Porous carbon blocks, made by strongly heating a mixture of powdered charcoal with oil, resin, &c., were introduced about a generation later, and subsequently various preparations of iron (spongy iron, magnetic oxide) found favour. Innumerable forms of filters made with these and other materials were put on the market, and were extolled as removing impurities of every kind from water, and as affording complete protection against the communication of disease. But whatever merits they had as clarifiers of turbid water, the advent of bacteriology, and the recognition of the fact that the bacteria of certain diseases may be water-borne, introduced a new criterion of effectiveness, and it was perceived that the removal of solid particles, or even of organic impurities (which were realized to be important not so much because they are dangerous to health per se as because their presence affords grounds for suspecting that the water in which they occur has been exposed to circumstances permitting contamination with infective disease), was not sufficient; the filter must also prevent the passage of pathogenic organisms, and so render the water sterile bacteriologically. Examined from this point of view the majority of domestic filters were found to be gravely defective, and even to be worse than useless, since unless they were frequently and thoroughly cleansed, they were liable to become favourable breeding-places for microbes. The first filter which was more or less completely impermeable to bacteria was the Pasteur-Chamberland, which was devised in Pasteur’s laboratory, and is made of dense biscuit porcelain. The filtering medium in this, as in other filters of the same kind, takes the form of a hollow cylinder or “candle,” through the walls of which the water has to pass from the outside to the inside, the candles often being arranged so that they may be directly attached to a tap, whereby the rate of flow, which is apt to be slow, is accelerated by the pressure of the main. But even filters of this type, if they are to be fully relied upon, must be frequently cleaned and sterilized, and great care must be taken that the joints and connexions are watertight, and that the candles are without cracks or flaws. In cases where the water supply is known to be infected, or even where it is merely doubtful, it is wise to have recourse to sterilization by boiling, rather than trust to any filter. Various machines have been constructed to perform this operation, some of them specially designed for the use of troops in the field; those in which economy of fuel is studied have an exchange-heater, by means of which the incoming cold water receives heat from the outgoing hot water, which thus arrives at the point of outflow at a temperature nearly as low as that of the supply. Chemical methods of sterilization have also been suggested, depending on the use of iodine, chlorine, bromine, ozone, potassium permanganate, copper sulphate or chloride and other substances. For the sand-filtration of water on a large scale, in which the presence of a surface film containing zooglaea of bacteria is an essential feature, see Water Supply.

In terms of purifying water, filtration was long seen as just a mechanical way to remove solid particles, making cloudy water clear. Over time, it was discovered that certain materials, like charcoal, could also soften hard water and eliminate organic matter. By the early 19th century, both animal and vegetable charcoal were used for filtering. About a generation later, porous carbon blocks—created by heating a mix of powdered charcoal with oil, resin, etc.—were introduced, and eventually, various iron preparations (like spongy iron or magnetic oxide) became popular. Countless filter designs made from these and other materials hit the market, claiming to remove all kinds of impurities and provide total protection against disease transmission. However, despite their ability to clarify turbid water, the emergence of bacteriology and the understanding that some disease-causing bacteria could be spread through water introduced a new standard for effectiveness. It became clear that simply removing solid particles or even organic impurities—realized to be concerning not just because they are harmful but because they suggest the water might be contaminated with infectious agents—was not enough; the filter also needed to stop pathogenic organisms from passing through, ensuring the water was bacteriologically sterile. Viewed this way, most home filters were found to have serious flaws and could even be detrimental, as if they weren't cleaned regularly and thoroughly, they could become breeding grounds for microbes. The first filter that was largely impermeable to bacteria was the Pasteur-Chamberland, created in Pasteur's lab from dense biscuit porcelain. The filtering medium in this and similar filters is shaped like a hollow cylinder or "candle," through which the water flows from the outside to the inside. These candles are often connected directly to a tap, which speeds up the typically slow flow rate due to pressure from the main supply. However, even these types of filters need to be cleaned and sterilized frequently, and great care must be taken to ensure all joints and connections are watertight and that the candles are free from cracks or defects. If the water supply is known to be contaminated, or even suspected, it's better to sterilize it by boiling instead of relying on any filter. Various machines have been designed for this purpose, including some specifically for military use; those that focus on fuel efficiency have a heat exchanger that warms incoming cold water using heat from outgoing hot water, bringing it close to the temperature of the supply. Chemical sterilization methods have also been proposed, utilizing substances like iodine, chlorine, bromine, ozone, potassium permanganate, or copper sulfate/chloride. For large-scale sand filtration of water, which relies on a surface film containing zooglaea of bacteria, see Water Supply.

Filtration in the chemical laboratory is commonly effected by the aid of a special kind of unsized paper, which in the more expensive varieties is practically pure cellulose, impurities like ferric oxide, alumina, lime, magnesia and silica having been removed by treatment with hydrochloric and hydrofluoric acids. A circular piece of this paper is folded twice upon itself so as to form a quadrant, one of the folds is pulled out, and the cone thus obtained is supported in a glass or porcelain funnel having an apical angle of 60°. The liquid to be filtered is poured into the cone, preferably down a glass rod upon the sides of the funnel to prevent splashing and to preserve the apex of the filter-paper, and passes through the paper, upon which the solid matter is retained. In the case of liquids containing strong acids or alkalis, which the paper cannot withstand, a plug of carefully purified asbestos or glass-wool (spun glass) is often employed, contained in a bulb blown as an enlargement on a narrow “filter-tube.” To accelerate the rate of filtration various devices are resorted to, such as lengthening the tube below the filtering material, increasing the pressure on the liquid being filtered, or decreasing it in the receiver of the filtrate. R.W. Bunsen may be regarded as the originator of the second method, and it was he who devised the small cone of platinum foil, sometimes replaced by a cone of parchment perforated with pinholes, arranged at the apex of the funnel to serve as a support for the paper, which is apt to burst under the pressure differences. In the so-called “Buchner funnel,” the filtering vessel is cylindrical, and the paper receives support by being laid upon its flat perforated bottom. In filtering into a vacuum the flask receiving the filtrate should be connected to the exhaust through a second flask. The suction may be derived from any form of air-pump; a form often employed where water at fair pressure is available is the jet-pump, which in consequence is known as a filter-pump. Another method of filtering into a vacuum is to immerse a porous jar (“Pukall cell”) in the liquid to be filtered, and attach a suction-pipe to its interior. A filtering arrangement devised by F.C. Gooch, which has come into common use in quantitative analysis where the solid matter has to be submitted to heating or ignition, consists of a crucible having a perforated bottom. By means of a piece of stretched rubber tubing, this crucible is supported in the mouth of an ordinary funnel which is connected with an exhausting apparatus; and water holding in suspension fine scrapings of asbestos, purified by boiling with strong hydrochloric acid and washing with water, is run through it, so that the perforated bottom is covered with a layer of felted asbestos. The crucible is then removed from the rubber support, weighed and replaced; the liquid is filtered through in the ordinary way; and the crucible with its contents is again removed, dried, ignited and weighed. A perforated cone, similarly coated with asbestos and fitted into a conical funnel, is sometimes employed.

Filtration in a chemistry lab is typically done using a special kind of unbleached filter paper, which in the more expensive types is nearly pure cellulose. Impurities like ferric oxide, alumina, lime, magnesia, and silica are removed by treating the paper with hydrochloric and hydrofluoric acids. A circular piece of this paper is folded in half twice to create a cone, one of the folds is opened up, and the resulting cone is placed in a glass or porcelain funnel with a 60° angle at the tip. The liquid that needs to be filtered is poured into the cone, ideally along a glass rod against the funnel's sides to prevent splashes and protect the tip of the filter paper; the liquid passes through the paper, leaving the solid particles behind. For liquids that contain strong acids or bases, which the paper can’t handle, a plug made of carefully purified asbestos or glass wool (spun glass) is often used, situated in a bulb that's a larger section of a narrow “filter tube.” To speed up the filtration process, various devices are used, such as extending the tube below the filtering medium, increasing the pressure on the liquid being filtered, or reducing it in the container for the filtered liquid. R.W. Bunsen is credited with the second method, having designed a small cone made of platinum foil, which can sometimes be replaced with a parchment cone with pinholes, positioned at the top of the funnel to support the paper that might burst under pressure differences. In the so-called “Buchner funnel,” the filtering container is cylindrical, and the paper is supported by sitting on its flat perforated bottom. When filtering into a vacuum, the flask that collects the filtered liquid should be connected to the exhaust via a second flask. The suction can come from any type of air pump; a commonly used type when pressurized water is available is the jet pump, which is thus referred to as a filter-pump. Another vacuum filtration method involves submerging a porous jar (“Pukall cell”) in the liquid to be filtered and attaching a suction pipe to its interior. A filtering setup created by F.C. Gooch, which is widely used in quantitative analysis where the solid needs to be heated or ignited, features a crucible with a perforated bottom. This crucible is held in place at the neck of a standard funnel connected to a vacuum system using a piece of stretchy rubber tubing. Water containing finely ground asbestos, purified by boiling with strong hydrochloric acid and rinsing with water, is then passed through, coating the perforated bottom with a layer of felted asbestos. The crucible is then taken off the rubber support, weighed, and put back; the liquid is filtered through in the usual manner, and the crucible with its contents is removed, dried, ignited, and weighed again. Sometimes a perforated cone similarly coated with asbestos is fitted into a conical funnel instead.

In many processes of chemical technology filtration plays an important part. A crude method consists of straining the liquid through cotton or other cloth, either stretched on wooden frames or formed into long narrow bags (“bag-filters”). Occasionally filtration into a vacuum is practised, but more often, as in filter-presses, the liquid is forced under pressure, either hydrostatic or obtained from a force-pump or compressed air, into a series of chambers partitioned off by cloth, which arrests the solids, but permits the passage of the liquid portions. For separating liquids from solids of a fibrous or crystalline character “hydro-extractors” or “centrifugals” are frequently employed. The 347 material is placed in a perforated cage or “basket,” which is enclosed in an outer casing, and when the cage is rapidly rotated by suitable gearing, the liquid portions are forced out into the external casing.

In many chemical technology processes, filtration plays a crucial role. A basic method involves straining the liquid through cotton or other fabric, either stretched on wooden frames or made into long, narrow bags ("bag-filters"). Sometimes, filtration under vacuum is used, but more commonly, as in filter presses, the liquid is pushed under pressure—either hydrostatic or from a force pump or compressed air—into a series of chambers separated by cloth, which captures the solids but allows the liquid portions to pass through. For separating liquids from fibrous or crystalline solids, "hydro-extractors" or "centrifuges" are often used. The material is placed in a perforated cage or "basket," which is enclosed in an outer casing, and when the cage is spun rapidly using appropriate gearing, the liquid portions are forced out into the external casing. 347


FIMBRIA, GAIUS FLAVIUS (d. 84 B.C.), Roman soldier and a violent partisan of Marius. He was sent to Asia in 86 B.C. as legate to L. Valerius Flaccus, but quarrelled with him and was dismissed. Taking advantage of the absence of Flaccus at Chalcedon and the discontent aroused by his avarice and severity, Fimbria stirred up a revolt and slew Flaccus at Nicomedia. He then assumed the command of the army and obtained several successes against Mithradates, whom he shut up in Pitane on the coast of Aeolis, and would undoubtedly have captured him had Lucullus co-operated with the fleet. Fimbria treated most cruelly all the people of Asia who had revolted from Rome or sided with Sulla. Having gained admission to Ilium by declaring that, as a Roman, he was friendly, he massacred the inhabitants and burnt the place to the ground. But in 84 Sulla crossed over from Greece to Asia, made peace with Mithradates, and turned his arms against Fimbria, who, seeing that there was no chance of escape, committed suicide. His troops were made to serve in Asia till the end of the third Mithradatic War.

FIMBRIA, GAIUS FLAVIUS (d. 84 BCE), was a Roman soldier and a fierce supporter of Marius. He was assigned to Asia in 86 BCE as a representative to L. Valerius Flaccus but had a falling out with him and was let go. Taking advantage of Flaccus's absence at Chalcedon and the discontent caused by his greed and harshness, Fimbria incited a revolt and killed Flaccus at Nicomedia. He then took command of the army and achieved several victories against Mithradates, whom he trapped in Pitane on the coast of Aeolis, and would likely have captured him if Lucullus had worked with the fleet. Fimbria treated most of the people in Asia who had rebelled against Rome or supported Sulla very harshly. Gaining entry to Ilium by claiming he was friendly as a Roman, he massacred the residents and destroyed the city. However, in 84, Sulla crossed from Greece to Asia, made peace with Mithradates, and turned his forces against Fimbria, who, realizing there was no way out, committed suicide. His troops were forced to serve in Asia until the end of the third Mithradatic War.

See Rome: History; and arts, on Sulla and Marius.

See Rome: History; and arts, on Sulla and Marius.


FIMBRIATE (from Lat. fimbriae, fringe), a zoological and botanical term, meaning fringed. In heraldry, “fimbriate” or “fimbriated” refers to a narrow edge or border running round a bearing.

Fimbriate (from Lat. fimbriae, fringe), a term used in zoology and botany, meaning fringed. In heraldry, “fimbriate” or “fimbriated” refers to a narrow edge or border that goes around a design.


FINALE (Ital. for “end”), a term in music for the concluding movement in an instrumental composition, whether symphony, concerto or sonata, and, in dramatic music, the concerted piece which ends each act. Of instrumental finales, the great choral finale to Beethoven’s 9th symphony, and of operatic finales, that of Mozart’s Nozze di Figaro, to the second act, and to the last act of Verdi’s Falstaff may be mentioned. In the Wagnerian opera the finale has no place.

FINALE (Italian for “end”), a term in music for the final movement in an instrumental piece, whether it's a symphony, concerto, or sonata, and in dramatic music, the group piece that wraps up each act. Among instrumental finales, the powerful choral finale of Beethoven’s 9th symphony is notable, and in operatic finales, there’s Mozart’s Nozze di Figaro, at the end of the second act, and the last act of Verdi’s Falstaff. In Wagner's operas, the finale doesn't have a role.


FINANCE. The term “finance,” which comes into English through French, in its original meaning denoted a payment (finatio). In the later middle ages, especially in Germany, it acquired the sense of usurious or oppressive dealing with money and capital. The specialized use of the word as equivalent to the management of the public expenditure and receipts first became prominent in France during the 16th century and quickly spread to other countries. The plural form (Les Finances) was particularly reserved for this application, while the singular came to denote business activity in respect to monetary dealings (as in the expression la haute finance). For the Germans the phrase “science of finance” (Finanzwissenschaft) refers exclusively to the economy of the state. English and American writers are less definite in their employment of the term, which varies with the convenience of the author.

FINANCE. The term “finance,” which entered English through French, originally referred to a payment (finatio). In the later Middle Ages, especially in Germany, it came to mean usurious or exploitative dealings with money and capital. The specialized use of the word to mean the management of public spending and revenue first became prominent in France during the 16th century and quickly spread to other countries. The plural form (Les Finances) was specifically used for this context, while the singular referred to business activities related to monetary dealings (as in the phrase la haute finance). For Germans, the term “science of finance” (Finanzwissenschaft) refers specifically to state economics. English and American writers are less precise in their use of the term, which varies depending on the author's preference.

A work on “finance” may deal with the Money Market or the Stock Exchange; it may treat of banking and credit organization, or it may be devoted to state revenue and expenditure, which is on the whole the prevailing sense. The expressions “science of finance” and “public finance” have been suggested as suitable to delimit the last mentioned application. At all events, the broad sense is quite intelligible. “Financial” means what is concerned with business, and the idea of a balance between effort and return is also prominent. In the present article attention will be directed to “public finance”; for the other aspects of the subject reference may be made (inter alia) to the following:—Banks and Banking; Company; Exchange; Market; Stock Exchange. See also English Finance, and the sections on finance under headings of countries.

A work on “finance” might cover the Money Market or the Stock Exchange; it could discuss banking and credit systems, or it might focus on government revenue and spending, which is generally the main focus. The terms “science of finance” and “public finance” have been proposed to clearly define the last mentioned application. In any case, the broad meaning is quite clear. “Financial” refers to anything connected with business, and the concept of a balance between effort and return is also important. In this article, the focus will be on “public finance”; for other aspects of the topic, refer to the following:—Banks and Banking; Company; Exchange; Market; Stock Exchange. See also English Finance, and the sections on finance under various country headings.

Finance, regarded as state house-keeping, or “political economy” (see Economics) in the older sense of the term, deals with (1) the expenditure of the state; (2) state revenues; (3) the balance between expenditure and receipts; (4) the organization which collects and applies the public funds. Each of these large divisions presents a series of problems of which the practical treatment is illustrated in the financial history of the great nations of the world. Thus the amount and character of public expenditure necessarily depends on the functions that the state undertakes to perform—national defence, the maintenance of internal order, and the efficient equipment of the state organization; such are the tasks that all governments have to discharge, and for their cost due provision has to be made. The widening sphere of state activity, so marked a characteristic of modern civilization, involves outlay for what may be best described as “developmental” services. Education, relief of distress, regulation of labour and trade, are duties now in great part performed by public agencies, and their increasing prominence involves augmented expense. The first problem on this side of expenditure is the due balancing of outlay by income. The financier has to “cover” his outlay. There is, further, the duty of establishing a proper proportion between the several forms of expenditure. Not only has there to be a strict control over the total national expense; supervision has to be carried into each department of the state. No one branch of public activity is entitled to make unlimited calls on the state’s revenue. The claims of the “expert” require to be carefully scrutinized. The great financiers have made their reputation quite as much by rigorous control over extravagance in expenditure as by dexterity in devising new forms of revenue. Unfortunately they have not been able to reduce their methods to rule. As yet no more definite principle has been discovered than the somewhat obvious one of measuring the proposed items of outlay (1) against each other, (2) against the sacrifice that additional taxation involves. Of almost equal importance is the rule that the utmost return is to be obtained for the given outlay. The canon of economy is as fundamental in regard to public expenditure as it will appear, later, to be in respect to revenue. Just application of the outlay of the state, so that no class receives undue advantage, and the use of public funds for “reproductive,” in preference to “unproductive” objects, are evident general principles whose difficulty lies in their application to the circumstances of each particular case.

Finance, understood as managing state resources, or “political economy” (see Economics) in the traditional sense, involves (1) the government's spending; (2) government revenue; (3) the balance between spending and income; (4) the organization responsible for collecting and using public funds. Each of these major areas presents a series of challenges, which are practically illustrated in the financial history of the world’s great nations. The level and nature of public spending naturally depend on the roles that the government commits to—national defense, maintaining internal order, and ensuring the effective functioning of the state apparatus; these are the responsibilities that all governments must fulfill, and adequate provision must be made for their costs. The expanding role of government, a notable feature of modern civilization, entails spending for what can be described as “developmental” services. Education, disaster relief, and the regulation of labor and trade are duties largely carried out by public agencies, and their rising significance leads to increased expenses. The first challenge in this area of spending is to properly balance expenses with income. The financier must “cover” their expenditures. Additionally, there is a need to establish an appropriate proportion among various types of spending. Not only is there a necessity for strict oversight of total national expenses, but supervision must extend to every department of the state. No single area of public activity should be allowed to make unlimited demands on state revenue. The requirements of “experts” need to be thoroughly evaluated. The best financiers have built their reputations not only through stringent control over wasteful spending but also by skillfully creating new revenue sources. Unfortunately, they have yet to establish any definitive principles. At present, the only clear guideline seems to be the somewhat obvious one of assessing proposed expenditures (1) against each other and (2) against the burden that additional taxation would impose. Of nearly equal importance is the principle that the maximum return should be obtained from the amount spent. The principle of economy is as crucial regarding public expenditure as it will be later for revenue. Proper allocation of state spending, ensuring that no group receives unfair advantages, and prioritizing the use of public funds for “productive” rather than “unproductive” purposes are clear general principles, although their application to specific situations can be challenging.

Far greater progress has been made in the formulation of general canons as to the nature, growth and treatment of the public revenues. Historically, there is, first, the tendency towards increase in state income to balance the advance in outlay. A second general feature is the relative decline of the receipts from state property and industries in contrast to the expansion of taxation. Regarded as an organized system, the body of receipts has to be made conformable to certain general conditions. Thus there should be revenue sufficient to meet the public requirements. Otherwise the financial organization has failed in one of its essential purposes. In order continuously to attain this end, the revenue must be flexible, or, as is often said, elastic enough to vary in response to pressure. Frequently recurring deficits are, in themselves, a condemnation of the methods under which they are found. Again, the rule of “economy” in raising revenue, or, in other words, taking as little as possible from the contributors over and above what the state receives, holds good for the whole and for each part of public revenue. In like manner the principle of formal justice has the same claim in respect to revenue as to expenditure. No class of person should bear more than his or its proper share. In fact the special maxims usually placed under the head of taxation have really a wider scope as governing the whole financial system. The recognition of even the most elementary rules has been a very slow process, as the course of financial history abundantly proves. Until the 18th century no scientific treatment of financial problems was attained, though there had been great advances on the administrative side.

Much more progress has been made in developing general principles about the nature, growth, and management of public revenues. Historically, there's first been a tendency for state income to increase in order to balance rising spending. A second common trend is the relative decline of income from state property and industries compared to the growth of taxation. When viewed as an organized system, the body of receipts must align with certain general conditions. There should be enough revenue to meet public needs; otherwise, the financial system has failed in one of its key purposes. To continuously achieve this goal, the revenue must be flexible, or, as people often say, elastic enough to adjust to demand. Recurring deficits are, by themselves, a criticism of the methods that lead to them. Additionally, the principle of “economy” in raising revenue—meaning taking as little as necessary from contributors beyond what the state requires—applies to the whole public revenue system and each part of it. Similarly, the principle of fairness in revenue holds the same importance as it does in spending. No group should pay more than their fair share. In fact, the specific principles related to taxation have a broader application in governing the entire financial system. Acknowledging even the most basic rules has been a slow process, as financial history clearly shows. Until the 18th century, no scientific approach to financial issues was developed, even though there had been significant progress in administration.

A brief description of the historical evolution of the earlier financial forms will be the most effective illustration of this statement. The theory of well-organized public finance is also discussed under Taxation and National Debt.

A short overview of the historical development of earlier financial systems will best illustrate this point. The theory of well-structured public finance is also covered under Taxation and National Debt.

The earliest forms of public revenue are those obtained from the property of the chief or ruler. Land, cattle and slaves are the principal kinds of wealth, and they are all constituents of the king’s revenue; enforced work contributed by members of the community, and the furnishing commodities on requisition, 348 further aid in the maintenance of the primitive state. Financial organization makes its earliest appearance in the great Eastern monarchies, in which tribute was regularly collected and the oldest and most general form of taxation—that levied on the produce of land—was established. In its normal shape this impost consisted in a given proportion of the yield, or of certain portions of the yield, of the soil; one-fourth as in India, one-fifth as in Egypt, or two separate levies of a tenth as in Palestine, are examples of what may from the last instance be called the “tithe” system. Dues of various kinds were gradually added to the land revenue, until, as in the later Egyptian monarchy, the forms of revenue reached a bewildering complexity. But no Eastern state advanced beyond the condition generally characterized as the “patrimonial,” i.e. an organization on the model of the household. The part played by money economy was small, and it is noticeable that the revenues were collected by the monarch’s servants, the farming out of taxes being completely unknown. Tribute, however, was paid by subject communities as a whole, and was collected by them for transmission to the conquerors.

The earliest types of public revenue come from the property of the chief or ruler. Land, livestock, and slaves are the main forms of wealth, and they all contribute to the king’s income. Forced labor from community members and providing goods when requested further support the basic state. Financial organization first appeared in the great Eastern monarchies, where tribute was regularly collected, and the oldest and most common form of taxation—tax on the produce of land—was established. Normally, this tax consisted of a specific portion of the yield or certain parts of the yield from the land; for example, one-fourth in India, one-fifth in Egypt, or two separate levies of a tenth in Palestine, which can be referred to as the “tithe” system. Various types of fees were gradually added to land revenue, resulting in a complex system, particularly in the later Egyptian monarchy. However, no Eastern state progressed beyond the “patrimonial” system, meaning one organized like a household. The role of monetary economy was minor, and it's important to note that the revenues were collected by the monarch’s servants, with no practice of farming out taxes. Tribute was paid collectively by subjected communities and collected by them to be sent to their conquerors.

A much higher stage was reached in the financial methods of the Greek states, or more correctly speaking of Athens, the best-known specimen of the class. Instead of the comparatively simple expedients of the barbarian Ancient Greek. monarchies, as indicated above, the Athenian city state by degrees developed a rather complex revenue system. Some of the older forms are retained. The city owned public land which was let on lease and the rents were farmed out by auction. A specially valuable property of Athens was the possession of the silver mines at Laurium, which were worked on lease by slave labour. The produce, at first distributed amongst the citizens, was later a part of the state income, and forms the subject of some of the suggestions respecting the revenue in the treatise formerly ascribed to Xenophon. The reverence that attached to the precious metals caused undue exaltation of the services rendered by this property.

A much higher level was achieved in the financial methods of the Greek states, or more specifically, Athens, which is the most well-known example. Instead of the relatively simple strategies used by barbarian monarchies, as mentioned earlier, the Athenian city-state gradually developed a fairly complex revenue system. Some of the older methods were kept. The city owned public land that was leased out, with the rents collected through auctions. One of Athens' most valuable assets was the silver mines at Laurium, which were operated by slave labor under lease. Initially, the profits were distributed among the citizens, but later they became part of the state income and are discussed in some of the proposals about revenue in the treatise previously attributed to Xenophon. The high regard for precious metals led to an inflated perception of the benefits provided by this property.

One of the characteristics of the ancient state was its extensive control over the persons and property of its citizens. In respect to finance this authority was strikingly manifested in the burdens imposed on wealthy citizens by the requirements of the “liturgies” (λειτουργίαι), which consisted in the provision of a chorus for theatrical performances, or defraying the expenses of the public games, or, finally, the equipment of a ship, “the trierarchy,” which was economically and politically the most important. Athenian statesmanship in the time of Demosthenes was gravely exercised to make this form of contribution more effective. The grouping into classes and the privilege of exchanging property, granted to the contributor against any one whom he believed entitled to take his place, are marks of the defective economic and financial organization of the age.

One of the features of ancient states was their extensive control over the lives and property of their citizens. This control was particularly evident in financial matters, where wealthy citizens faced significant burdens through the requirements of the “liturgies” (functions), which involved providing a chorus for theatrical performances, covering the costs of public games, or, most importantly, funding a ship, known as “the trierarchy.” During Demosthenes' time, Athenian leaders worked hard to make this type of contribution more effective. The classification into different social classes and the ability for contributors to exchange property with anyone they believed was entitled to take their place highlight the shortcomings of the economic and financial systems of that era.

Amongst taxes strictly so called were the market dues or tolls, which in some cases approximated to excise duties, though in their actual mode of levy they were closely similar to the octrois of modern times. Of greater importance were the customs duties on imports and exports. These at the great period of Athenian history were only 2%. The prohibition of export of corn was an economic rather than a financial provision. In the treatment of her subject allies Athens was more rigorous, general import and export duties of 5% being imposed on their trade. The high cost of carriage, and the need of encouraging commerce in a community relying on external sources for its food supply, help to explain the comparatively low rates adopted. Neither as financial nor as protective expedients were the custom duties of classical societies of much importance.

Among the taxes that were specifically recognized were the market fees or tolls, which in some cases were similar to excise duties, although in how they were collected, they were quite like the current local taxes. More important were the customs duties on imports and exports. During the peak of Athenian history, these were only 2%. The ban on exporting grain was more about economic strategy than financial gain. In their dealings with subject allies, Athens was stricter, imposing general import and export duties of 5% on their trade. The high cost of transport and the need to promote commerce in a community that depended on outside sources for food help explain the relatively low rates adopted. The customs duties in classical societies were not especially significant for financial or protective reasons.

Direct taxation received much greater expansion. A special levy on the class of resident aliens (μετοίκιον), probably paralleled by a duty on slaves, was in force. A far more important source of revenue was the general tax on property (εἰσφορά), which according to one view existed as early as the time of Solon, who made it a part of his constitutional system. Modern inquiry, however, tends towards the conclusion that it was under the stress of the Peloponnesian War that this impost was introduced (428 B.C.). At first it was only levied at irregular intervals; afterwards, in 378 B.C., it became a permanent tax based on elaborate valuation under which the richer members paid on a larger quota of their capital; in the case of the wealthiest class the taxable quota was taken as one-fifth, smaller fractions being adopted for those belonging to the other divisions. The assessment (τίμημα) included all the property of the contributor, whose accuracy in making full returns was safeguarded by the right given to other citizens to proceed against him for fraudulent under-valuation. A further support was provided in the reform of 378 B.C. by the establishment of the symmories, or groups of tax-paying citizens; the wealthier members of each group being responsible for the tax payments of all the members.

Direct taxation expanded significantly. A special tax on resident aliens (μετοίκιον), likely alongside a duty on slaves, was enacted. A much more important source of revenue was the general property tax (contribution), which some believe existed as early as Solon’s time when he integrated it into his constitutional system. However, modern research suggests that this tax was introduced under the pressures of the Peloponnesian War in 428 BCE. Initially, it was levied at irregular intervals; later, in 378 BCE, it became a permanent tax based on detailed evaluations, with wealthier individuals paying a larger percentage of their capital. For the richest class, one-fifth of their capital was taxable, while smaller percentages were used for other groups. The assessment (price) included all the contributor's property, and to ensure accuracy in reporting, citizens had the right to challenge anyone for under-reporting. Additionally, the reform of 378 BCE established symmories, or groups of tax-paying citizens, where wealthier members were responsible for covering the tax obligations of all members in their group.

The scanty and obscure references to finance, and to economic matters generally, in classical literature do not elucidate all the details of the system; but the analogies of other countries, e.g. the mode of levying the taille in 18th century France and the “tenth and fifteenth” in medieval England, make it tolerably plain that in the 4th century B.C. the Athenian state had developed a mode of taxation on property which raised those questions of just distribution and effective valuation that present themselves in the latest tax systems of the modern world. Taken together with the liturgies, the “eisphora” placed a very heavy burden on the wealthier citizens, and this financial pressure accounts in great part for the hostility of the rich towards the democratic constitution that facilitated the imposition of graduated taxation and super-taxes—to use modern terms—on the larger incomes. The normal yield of the property tax is reported as 60 talents (£14,400); but on special occasions it reached 200 talents (£48,000), or about one-sixth of the total receipts.

The scarce and unclear references to finance and economic issues in classical literature don’t clarify all the specifics of the system; however, similarities in other countries, like how the taille was collected in 18th century France and the “tenth and fifteenth” in medieval England, make it fairly clear that in the 4th century BCE, the Athenian state had established a property tax system that raised questions about fair distribution and effective valuation, similar to those seen in modern tax systems. Along with the liturgies, the "eisphora" imposed a significant burden on wealthier citizens, and this financial pressure largely explains the wealthy's opposition to the democratic constitution that allowed for graduated taxation and super-taxes—using modern terms—on higher incomes. The typical revenue from the property tax is noted as 60 talents (£14,400); however, during special occasions, it reached 200 talents (£48,000), which was about one-sixth of total revenue.

On the administrative side also remarkable advances were made by the entrusting of military expenditure to the “generals,” and in the 4th century B.C. by the appointment of an administrator whose duty it was to distribute the revenue of the state under the directions of the assembly. The absence of settled public law and the influence of direct democracy made a complete ministry of finance impossible.

On the administrative side, significant progress was made by giving military spending responsibility to the "generals," and in the 4th century BCE, an administrator was appointed to manage the distribution of state revenue under the guidance of the assembly. The lack of established public law and the impact of direct democracy made a fully functional finance ministry unattainable.

The Athenian “hegemony” in its earlier and later phases had an important financial side. The confederacy of Delos made provision for the collection of a revenue (φόρος) from the members of the league, which was employed at first for defence against Persian aggression, but afterwards was at the disposal of Athens as the ruling state. The annual collection of 460 talents (£110,400) shows sufficiently the magnitude of the league.

The Athenian "hegemony" during its earlier and later stages had a significant financial aspect. The Delian League established a system to collect revenue (tax) from its members, initially used for defense against Persian threats, but later it became available for Athens as the leading state. The annual collection of 460 talents (£110,400) clearly indicates the scale of the league.

Too little is known of the financial methods of the other Greek states and of the Macedonian kingdoms to allow of any definite account of their position. In the latter, particularly in Egypt, the methods of the earlier rulers probably survived. Their finance, like their social life generally, exhibited a blending of Hellenic and barbarian elements. The older land-taxes were probably accompanied by import dues and taxes on property.

Too little is known about the financial methods of other Greek states and the Macedonian kingdoms to provide a clear understanding of their situation. In the latter, especially in Egypt, the practices of the earlier rulers likely continued. Their finances, much like their overall social life, showed a mix of Greek and non-Greek elements. The older land taxes were likely supplemented by import duties and taxes on property.

In the infancy of the Roman republic its revenues were of the kind usual in such communities. The public land yielded receipts which may indifferently be regarded as rents or taxes; the citizens contributed their services or Roman. commodities, and dues were raised on certain articles coming to market. With the progress of the Roman dominion the financial organization grew in extent. In order to meet the cost of the early wars a special contribution from property (tributum ex censu) was levied at times of emergency, though it was in some cases regarded as an advance to be repaid when the occasion of expense was over. Owing to the great military successes, and the consequent increase of the other sources of revenue, it became feasible to suspend the tributum in 167 B.C., and it was not again levied till after the death of Julius Caesar. From this date the expenses of the Roman state “were undisguisedly supported by the taxation of the provinces.” Neither the state monopolies nor the public land in Italy afforded any appreciable revenue. The other charges that affected Italy were the 5% duty on manumissions, and customs dues on seaborne imports. But with the acquisition of the important provinces of Sicily, Spain and Africa, the formation of a tax 349 system based on the tributes of the dependencies became possible. To a great extent the pre-existing forms of revenue were retained, but were gradually systematized. In legal theory the land of conquered communities passed into the ownership of the Roman state; in practice a revenue was obtained through land taxes in the form of either tithes (decumae) or money payments (stipendia). To the latter were adjoined capitation and trade taxes (the tributum capitis). For pasture land a special rent was paid. In some provinces (e.g. Sicily) payment in produce was preferred, as affording the supply needed for the free distribution of corn at Rome.

In the early days of the Roman Republic, its income was similar to what you would expect in such communities. Public land generated revenue that could be seen as either rent or tax; citizens offered their services or goods, and fees were collected on certain items sold in the market. As Roman control expanded, the financial system became more complex. To cover the costs of initial wars, a special property tax (tributum ex censu) was temporarily imposed during emergencies, although sometimes it was seen as a loan to be repaid when expenses declined. Due to significant military victories and the rise in other revenue sources, the tributum was suspended in 167 B.C.E. and wasn't reinstated until after Julius Caesar's death. After this point, the expenses of the Roman state were clearly funded by taxing the provinces. Neither state monopolies nor public land in Italy generated significant income. The other expenses affecting Italy included a 5% fee on manumissions and customs duties on goods brought in by sea. However, with the acquisition of vital provinces like Sicily, Spain, and Africa, it became possible to create a tax system based on the tributes from these territories. Many existing revenue forms were kept but were gradually organized. Legally, the land of conquered territories transferred to Roman state ownership; in practice, revenue came from land taxes in the form of either tithes (decumae) or cash payments (stipendia). Additionally, there were head taxes and trade taxes (the tributum capitis). For pasture land, a specific rent was paid. In some provinces (e.g. Sicily), payments in goods were preferred for supplying free corn distribution in Rome.

The great form of indirect taxation consisted in the customs dues (portoria), which were collected at the provincial boundaries and varied in amount, though the maximum did not exceed 5%. Under the same head were included the town dues (or octrois). Further, the local administration was charged on the district concerned, and requisitions for the public service were frequently made on the provincial communities. Supplies of grain, ships and timber for military use were often demanded.

The main type of indirect tax was the customs duties (portoria), which were collected at provincial borders and varied in amount, though they never exceeded 5%. Also included were local taxes (or octrois). Additionally, the local administration was responsible for the district in question, and requests for public service were often made on the provincial communities. Supplies of grain, ships, and timber for military purposes were frequently required.

The methods of levy may be regarded as an additional tax. “Vexation,” as Adam Smith remarks, “though not strictly speaking expense, is certainly equivalent to the expense at which every man would be willing to redeem himself from it”; and the Roman system was extraordinarily vexatious. From an early date the collection of the taxes had been farmed out to companies of contractors (societates vectigales), who became a by-word for rapacity. Being bound to pay a stated sum to the public authorities these publicani naturally aimed at extracting the largest possible amount from the unfortunate provincials, and, as they belonged to the Roman capitalist class, they were able to influence the provincial governors. Undue claims on the part of the tax collectors were aggravated by the extortion of the public officials. The defects of the financial organization were a serious influence in the complex of causes that brought about the fall of the Republic.

The methods of tax collection can be seen as an extra burden. “Vexation,” as Adam Smith points out, “even though it’s not strictly an expense, is definitely comparable to the cost that everyone would be willing to pay to free themselves from it”; and the Roman system was incredibly irritating. From an early time, tax collection had been handed over to groups of contractors (societates vectigales), who became synonymous with greed. Since they were required to pay a fixed amount to the government, these publicani obviously tried to squeeze the most money possible from the unfortunate provinces, and because they were part of the Roman wealthy class, they could sway the provincial governors. The excessive demands by the tax collectors were made worse by the corruption of public officials. The flaws in the financial system played a significant role in the many factors that led to the fall of the Republic.

One of the reasons that induced the subject populations to accept with pleasure the establishment of the Empire was the improvement in financial treatment that it secured. The corrupt and uneconomical method of farming out the collection of the revenue was, to a great extent, replaced by collection through the officials of the imperial household. The earlier Roman treasury (aerarium) was formally retained for the receipt of revenue from the senatorial provinces, but the officials were appointed by the Princeps and became gradually mere municipal officers. The real centre of finance was the fiscus or imperial treasury, which was under the exclusive control of the ruler (“res fiscales,” says Ulpian, “quasi propriae et privatae principis sunt”), and was administered by officials of his household. Under the Republic the Senate had been the financial authority, with the Censors as finance ministers and the Quaestors as secretaries of the treasury. Never very precise, this system in the 1st century B.C. fell into extreme decay. By means of his freedmen the emperor introduced the more rigorous economy of the Roman household into public finance. The census as a method of valuation was revived; the important and productive land taxes were placed on a more definite footing; while, above all, the substitution of direct collection by state officials for the letting out by auction of the tax-collection to the companies of publicani was made general. Thus some of the most valuable lessons as to the normal evolution of a system of finance are to be learned in this connexion. Of equal, or even greater moment is the failure of the administrative reforms of the Empire to secure lasting improvement, a result due to the absence of constitutional guarantees. The close relation between finance and general policy is most impressively illustrated in this failure of benevolent autocracy.

One of the reasons that encouraged the subject populations to happily accept the establishment of the Empire was the better financial management it provided. The corrupt and wasteful practice of outsourcing tax collection was largely replaced by direct collection through officials from the imperial household. The earlier Roman treasury (aerarium) remained in place for receiving revenue from the senatorial provinces, but the officials were appointed by the Princeps and gradually became mere local officers. The true center of finance was the fiscus or imperial treasury, which was exclusively controlled by the ruler (“res fiscales,” says Ulpian, “are essentially the private property of the prince”), and was managed by officials from his household. Under the Republic, the Senate had been the financial authority, with the Censors acting as finance ministers and the Quaestors as treasury secretaries. This system, already vague, deteriorated significantly in the 1st century BCE The emperor, through his freedmen, introduced stricter financial discipline from the Roman household into public finance. The census as a method of appraisal was revived; the important and productive land taxes were organized more clearly; and, most notably, the direct collection by state officials replaced the auctioning of tax collection to groups of publicani. Thus, valuable insights into the natural evolution of a financial system can be gained from this context. Of equal, or even greater importance, is the failure of the administrative reforms of the Empire to achieve lasting improvement, which occurred due to a lack of constitutional protections. The close link between finance and overall policy is most clearly demonstrated in this failure of benevolent autocracy.

Viewed broadly, the financial resources of the earlier Empire were obtained from (1) the public land alike of the state and the Princeps; (2) the monopolies, principally of minerals; (3) the land tax; (4) the customs; (5) the taxes on inheritances, on sales and on the purchase of slaves (vectigalia). One result of the establishment of the Principate was the consolidation of the public domain. The old “public land” in Italy had nearly disappeared; but the royal possessions in the conquered provinces and the private properties of the emperor became ultimately a part of the property of the Fiscus. Such land was let either on five-year leases or in perpetuity to coloni. Mines were also taken over for public use and worked by slaves or, in later times, by convict labour. The tendency towards state monopoly became more marked in the closing days of the Empire, the 4th and 5th centuries A.D. Perhaps the most comprehensive of the fiscal reforms of the Empire was the reconstruction of the land tax, based on a census or (to use the French term) cadastre, in which the area, the modes of cultivation and the estimated productiveness of each holding were stated, the average of ten preceding years being taken as the standard. After the reconstruction under Diocletian at the end of the 3rd century A.D., fifteen years (the indictio)—though probably used as early as the time of Hadrian—was recognized as the period for revaluation. With the growing needs of the state this taxation became more rigorous and was one of the great grievances of the population, especially of the sections that were declining in status and passing into the condition of villenage. The portoria, or customs, received a better organization, though the varying rates for different provinces continued. By degrees the older maximum of 5% was exceeded, until in the 4th century 12½% was in some cases levied. Even at this higher rate the facilities for trade were greater than in medieval or (until the revolution in transport) modern times. In spite of certain prejudices against the import of luxuries and the export of gold, there is little indication of the influence of mercantilist or protectionist ideas. The nearest approach to excise was the duty of 1% on all sales, a tax that in Gibbon’s words “has ever been the occasion of clamour and discontent.” The higher charge of 4% on the purchase of slaves, and the still heavier 5% on successions after death, were likewise established at the beginning of the Empire and specially applied to the full citizens. Escheats and lapsed legacies (caduca) were further miscellaneous sources of gain to the state.

Viewed broadly, the financial resources of the earlier Empire were obtained from (1) public land owned by both the state and the Princeps; (2) monopolies, mainly of minerals; (3) land tax; (4) customs; and (5) taxes on inheritances, sales, and the purchase of slaves (vectigalia). One outcome of establishing the Principate was the consolidation of public land. The old “public land” in Italy had nearly vanished; however, the royal lands in conquered provinces and the emperor's private properties eventually became part of the Fiscus's assets. Such land was leased either on five-year terms or permanently to coloni. Mines were also appropriated for public use and worked by slaves or, later on, by convict labor. The trend towards state monopoly became more pronounced in the later days of the Empire, during the 4th and 5th centuries CE Perhaps the most extensive of the Empire's fiscal reforms was the restructuring of the land tax, based on a census or, using the French term, cadastre, which stated the area, cultivation methods, and estimated productivity of each holding, with an average of the previous ten years taken as the standard. After the restructuring under Diocletian at the end of the 3rd century CE, a period of fifteen years (the indictio)—though likely used as early as Hadrian's time—was recognized for re-evaluation. With the growing needs of the state, this taxation became stricter and was a significant grievance for the populace, especially for those in declining status who were slipping into villenage. The portoria, or customs, were better organized, though the varying rates for different provinces remained. Gradually, the older maximum rate of 5% was surpassed, and by the 4th century, rates as high as 12½% were imposed in some cases. Even at this higher rate, trading conditions were better than in medieval or, until the transportation revolution, modern times. Despite some biases against luxury imports and gold exports, there’s little indication of mercantilist or protectionist influences. The closest thing to an excise tax was the 1% duty on all sales, a tax that in Gibbon’s words “has ever been the occasion of clamour and discontent.” The higher charge of 4% on the purchase of slaves, and the even heavier 5% on inheritances, were also established at the beginning of the Empire and specifically targeted full citizens. Escheats and lapsed legacies (caduca) were additional miscellaneous sources of revenue for the state.

Taken as a whole, the financial system of Imperial Rome shows a very high elaboration in form. The patrimonium, the tributa and the vectigalia are divisions parallel to the domaine, the contributions directes and the contributions indirectes of modern French administration; or the English “non-tax” revenue, inland revenue and “customs and excise.” The careful regulations given in the Codes and the Digest show the observance of technical conditions as to assessment and accounting. In substance and spirit, however, Roman finance was essentially backward. Without altogether accepting Merivale’s judgment that “their principles of finance were to the last rude and unphilosophical,” it may be granted that Roman statesmen never seriously faced the questions of just distribution and maximum productiveness in the tax system. Still less did they perceive the connexion between these two aspects of finance. Mechanical uniformity and minute regulation are inadequate substitutes for observance of the canons of equality, certainty and economy in the operation of the tax system. Whether (as has been suggested) an Adam Smith in power could have saved the Empire is doubtful; but he would certainly have remodelled its finance. The most glaring fault was plainly the undue and increasing pressure on the productive classes. Each century saw heavier burdens imposed on the actual workers and on their employers, while expenditure was chiefly devoted to unproductive purposes. The distribution was also unfair as between the different territorial divisions. The capital and certain provincial towns were favoured at the expense of the provinces and the country districts. Again, the cost of collection, though less than under the farming-out system, was far too great. Some alleviation was indeed obtained by the apportionment of contributions amongst the districts liable, leaving to the community to decide as it thought best between its members. The allotment of the land-tax to units (juga) of equal value whatever might be the area, was a contrivance similar in character.

Taken as a whole, the financial system of Imperial Rome shows a very high level of sophistication in form. The patrimonium, the tributa, and the vectigalia are divisions similar to the domaine, the contributions directes, and the contributions indirectes of modern French administration; or the English “non-tax” revenue, inland revenue, and “customs and excise.” The careful regulations laid out in the Codes and the Digest demonstrate adherence to technical standards for assessment and accounting. In essence and spirit, however, Roman finance was essentially outdated. Without completely agreeing with Merivale’s statement that “their principles of finance were to the last rude and unphilosophical,” it can be acknowledged that Roman leaders never seriously confronted the issues of fair distribution and maximum productivity in the tax system. Even less did they recognize the connection between these two aspects of finance. Rigid uniformity and detailed regulation are inadequate substitutes for upholding the principles of equality, certainty, and efficiency in the tax system. Whether (as has been suggested) a powerful Adam Smith could have saved the Empire is uncertain; but he would definitely have restructured its finances. The most obvious flaw was the excessive and growing burden on the productive classes. Each century saw heavier loads placed on the actual workers and their employers, while spending was mostly directed toward unproductive purposes. The distribution was also unfair among different regions. The capital and certain provincial towns benefited at the expense of the provinces and rural areas. Additionally, the cost of collection, although lower than under the farming-out system, was still too high. Some relief was indeed achieved by distributing contributions among the liable districts, allowing the community to determine what was best for its members. The allocation of the land tax to units (juga) of equal value regardless of the area was a similar approach.

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The gradual way in which the several provinces were brought under the general tax system, and the equally gradual extension of Roman citizenship, account further for the irregularity and increased weight of the taxes; as the absence of publicity and the growth of autocracy explain the sense of oppression and the hopelessness of resistance so vividly indicated in the literature of the later Empire. Exemptions at first granted to the citizens were removed, while the cost of local government which continually increased was placed on the middle-class of the towns as represented by the decuriones, or members of the municipalities.

The gradual process by which various provinces were incorporated into the overall tax system, along with the slow expansion of Roman citizenship, helps explain the inconsistency and increased burden of taxes. The lack of transparency and the rise of autocracy clarify the feeling of oppression and the despair of resistance that is so vividly portrayed in the literature of the later Empire. The exemptions that were initially granted to citizens were eventually revoked, while the ever-increasing costs of local government were shifted onto the middle class of the towns, represented by the decuriones, or members of the municipalities.

The fact that no ingenuity of modern research has been able to construct a real budget of expenditure and receipt for any part of the long centuries of the Empire is significant as to the secrecy that surrounded the finances, especially in the later period. For at the beginning of the principate Augustus seems to have aimed at a complete estimate of the financial situation, though this may be regarded as due to the influence of the freer republican traditions which the reverence that soon attached to the emperor’s dignity completely extinguished.

The fact that no modern research has been able to create a real budget of spending and income for any part of the long history of the Empire is significant regarding the secrecy that surrounded finances, especially in the later period. At the beginning of Augustus's rule, he seemed to aim for a complete assessment of the financial situation, though this may have been influenced by the more open republican traditions that were completely overshadowed by the respect that soon surrounded the emperor's role.

In addition to its value as illustrating the difficulties and defects that beset the development of a complex financial organization from the simpler forms of the city and the province, Roman finance is of special importance in consequence of its place as supplying a model or rather a guide for the administration of the states that arose on its ruins. The barbarian invaders, though they were accustomed to contributions to their chiefs and to the payment of commodities as tributes or as penalties, had no acquaintance with the working of a regular system of taxation. The more astute rulers utilized the machinery that they inherited from the Roman government. Under the Franks the land tax and the provincial customs continued as forms of revenue, while beside them the gifts and court fees of Teutonic origin took their place. Similar conditions appear in Theodoric’s administration of Italy. The maintenance of Roman forms and terms is prominent in fiscal administration. But institutions that have lost their life and animating spirit can hardly be preserved for any length of time. All over western Europe the elaborate devices of the census and the stations for the collection of customs crumbled away; taxation as such disappeared, through the hostility of the clergy and the exemptions accorded to powerful subjects. This process of disintegration spread out over centuries. The efforts made from time to time by vigorous rulers to enforce the charges that remained legally due, proved quite ineffectual to restore the older fiscal system. The final result was a complete transformation of the ingredients of revenue. The character of the change may be best indicated as a substitution of private claims for public rights. Thus, the land-tax disappears in the 7th century and only comes into notice in the 9th century in the shape of private customary dues. The customs duties become the tolls and transit charges levied by local potentates on the diminishing trade of the earlier middle ages. This revolution is in accordance with—indeed it is one side of—the movement towards feudalism which was the great feature of this period. Finance is essentially a part of public law and administration. It could, therefore, hold no prominent place in a condition of society which hardly recognized the state, as distinct from the members of the community, united by feudal ties. The same conception may be expressed in another way, viz. by the statement that the kingdoms which succeeded the Roman Empire were organized on the patrimonial basis (i.e. the revenues passed into the hands of the king or, rather, his domestic officials), and thus in fact returned to the condition of pre-classical times. Notwithstanding the differing features in the several countries, retrogression is the common characteristic of European history from the 5th to the 10th century, and it was from the ruder state that this decline created that the rebuilding of social and political organization had to be accomplished. On the financial side the work, as already suggested, was aided by the ideas and institutions inherited from the Roman Empire. This influence was common to all the continental states and indirectly was felt even in England. Each of the great realms has, however, worked out its financial system on lines suitable to its own particular conditions, which are best considered in connexion with the separate national histories.

In addition to showing the challenges and flaws that come with developing a complex financial organization from simpler city and provincial forms, Roman finance is especially important because it provides a model—or rather, a guide—for the administration of the states that emerged from its ruins. The barbarian invaders, while used to giving tributes and paying goods as taxes or penalties, were unfamiliar with a regular taxation system. More savvy rulers took advantage of the structures they inherited from the Roman government. Under the Franks, land tax and provincial customs continued as sources of revenue, alongside gifts and court fees of Teutonic origin. Similar conditions can be seen in Theodoric’s administration of Italy. The preservation of Roman forms and terms is evident in fiscal management. However, institutions that have lost their vitality and driving spirit can't be maintained for long. Across western Europe, the complex systems of the census and customs collection stations fell apart; taxation, in the traditional sense, faded away due to clergy opposition and exemptions granted to powerful subjects. This breakdown occurred over centuries. Attempts by strong rulers to enforce the existing charges that were still legally owed proved ineffective in restoring the old fiscal system. Ultimately, this led to a complete transformation of revenue sources. The best way to describe the change is as a replacement of public rights with private claims. As a result, the land tax disappeared in the 7th century and only reappeared in the 9th century as private customary dues. Customs duties transformed into tolls and transit fees imposed by local leaders on the dwindling trade of the early middle ages. This change aligns with—indeed, it is a part of—the shift towards feudalism, which was a defining feature of this period. Finance is fundamentally a part of public law and administration, so it couldn't hold a significant role in a society that barely recognized the state as separate from the community members bound by feudal connections. This notion can also be stated differently: the kingdoms that succeeded the Roman Empire were organized on a patrimonial basis (i.e. the revenues shifted into the hands of the king or, more accurately, his local officials), effectively reverting to a pre-classical state. Despite the different characteristics across various countries, regression is a common theme in European history from the 5th to the 10th century, and it was from this more primitive state created by that decline that social and political organization had to be rebuilt. On the financial front, as already suggested, progress was supported by the ideas and institutions inherited from the Roman Empire. This influence was shared among all continental states and was even felt indirectly in England. Each of the major realms, however, developed its financial system based on its specific circumstances, which are best understood in relation to their distinct national histories.

Running through the different national systems there are some common elements the result not of inheritance merely but still more of necessity, or at the lowest of similarity in environment. Over and above the details of financial development there is a thread of connexion which requires treatment under Finance taken as a whole. As the great aim of this side of public activity is to secure funds for the maintenance of the state’s life and working, the administration which operates for this end is the true nucleus of all national finance. The first sign of revival from the catastrophe of the invasions is the reorganization of the Imperial household under Charlemagne with the intention of establishing a more exact collection of revenue. The later German empire of Otto and the Frederics; the French Capetian monarchy and, in a somewhat different sphere, the medieval Italian and German cities show the same movement. The treasury is the centre towards which the special receipts of the ruler or rulers should be brought, and from it the public wants should be supplied. Feudalism, as the antithesis of this orderly treatment, had to be overthrown before national finance could become established. The development can be traced in the financial history of England, France and the German states; but the advance in the French financial organization of the 15th and 16th centuries affords the best illustration. The gradual unification operates on all the branches of finance,—expenditure, revenue, debt and methods of control. In respect to the first head there is a well-marked “integration” of the modes for meeting the cost of the public services. What were semi-private duties become public tasks, which, with the growing importance of “money-economy,” have to be defrayed by state payments. Thus, the creation of the standing army in France by Charles VII. marks a financial change of the first order. The English navy, though more gradually developed, is an equally good illustration of the movement. All outlay by the state is brought into due co-ordination, and it becomes possible for constitutional government to supervise and direct it. This improvement, due to English initiative, has been adopted amongst the essential forms of financial administration on the continent. The immense importance of this view of public expenditure as representing the consumption of the state in its unified condition is obvious; it has affected, for the most part unconsciously, the conception of all modern peoples as to the functions of the state and the right of the people to direct them.

Running through the different national systems are some common elements that come not just from inheritance but also from necessity, or at least from similar environments. Beyond the specifics of financial development, there’s a connection that needs to be addressed by looking at Finance as a whole. Since the main goal of this aspect of public activity is to secure funding for the state’s operations and maintenance, the administration designed for this purpose is the core of all national finance. The first sign of recovery from the invasions' devastation is the reorganization of the Imperial household under Charlemagne, aimed at establishing a more precise revenue collection. The later German empire of Otto and the Frederics, the French Capetian monarchy, and in a bit of a different context, the medieval Italian and German cities, all show the same trend. The treasury serves as the central point where the ruler's or rulers' specific income should be funneled, from which public needs are addressed. Feudalism, which stood in contrast to this organized approach, had to be dismantled before national finance could become established. This development can be seen in the financial history of England, France, and the German states, but the progress in French financial organization during the 15th and 16th centuries provides the clearest example. The gradual unification touches all aspects of finance—expenditure, revenue, debt, and control methods. Regarding the first aspect, there’s a clear “integration” of the ways to cover the costs of public services. Tasks that were semi-private have become public responsibilities, which, due to the increasing significance of “money-economy,” must be funded through state payments. Therefore, the establishment of a standing army in France by Charles VII signifies a major financial change. The English navy, although developed more gradually, is another strong example of this trend. All government spending is coordinated appropriately, allowing constitutional governance to manage and guide it. This improvement, stemming from English initiative, has been adopted as a fundamental aspect of financial administration on the continent. The immense significance of recognizing public expenditure as reflecting the unified consumption of the state is clear; it has largely, albeit unconsciously, influenced modern societies' views on the state's functions and the people's rights to oversee them.

On the side of receipts a similar unifying process has been accomplished. The almost universal separation between “ordinary” and “extraordinary” receipts, taxation being put under the latter head, has completely ceased. It was, however, the fundamental division for the early French writers on finance, and it survives for England as late as Blackstone’s Commentaries. The idea that the ruler possessed a normal income in certain rents and dues of a quasi-private character, which on emergency he might supplement by calls on the revenues of his subjects, was a bequest of feudalism which gave way before the increasing power of the state. In order to meet the unified public wants, an equally unified public fund was requisite. The great economic changes which depreciated the value of the king’s domain contributed towards the result. Only by well-adjusted taxation was it possible to meet the public necessities. In respect to taxation also there has been a like course of readjustment. Separate charges, assigned for distinct purposes, have been taken into the national exchequer and come to form a part of the general revenue. There has been—taking long periods—a steady absorption of special taxes into more general categories. The replacement of the four direct taxes by the income tax in France, as proposed in 1909, is a very recent example. Equally important is the growth of “direct” taxation. As tax contributions have taken the places of the revenue from land and fees, so, it would seem, are the taxes on commodities likely to be replaced or at least exceeded by the imposts levied on income as such, in the shape either of income taxes 351 proper or of charges on accumulated wealth. The recent history of the several financial systems of the world is decisive on this point. A clearer perception of the conditions under which the effective attainment of revenue is possible is another outcome of financial development. Security, and in particular the absence of arbitrary impositions, combined with convenient modes of collection, have come to be recognized as indispensable auxiliaries in financial administration which further aims at the selection of really productive forms of charge. Unproductiveness is, according to modern standard, the cardinal fault of any particular tax. How great has been the progress in these aspects is best illustrated in the case of English finance, but both French and German fiscal history can supply many instructive examples.

On the topic of receipts, a similar unifying process has taken place. The almost universal separation between “ordinary” and “extraordinary” receipts, with taxation falling under the latter, has completely disappeared. This was a key distinction for early French writers on finance and survived in England up until Blackstone’s Commentaries. The idea that the ruler had a normal income from certain rents and dues of a quasi-private nature, which could be supplemented by calling on the revenues of his subjects in times of emergency, was a legacy of feudalism but has faded in light of the growing power of the state. To address the collective public needs, a unified public fund became necessary. Major economic changes that reduced the value of the king's land played a role in this shift. Only through well-structured taxation could public necessities be met. In terms of taxation, a similar adjustment has occurred. Separate charges, designated for specific purposes, have been incorporated into the national treasury and now constitute a part of the overall revenue. Over the long term, there has been a consistent merging of special taxes into broader categories. The proposed replacement of the four direct taxes with the income tax in France in 1909 is a recent example. Equally significant is the rise of “direct” taxation. As tax contributions have replaced revenue from land and fees, it appears that taxes on goods may also be replaced or at least overshadowed by taxes on income, either as income taxes or as levies on accumulated wealth. Recent history across various financial systems worldwide underscores this point. Financial development has led to a better understanding of the conditions necessary for effectively generating revenue. Security, especially the absence of arbitrary taxes, along with convenient collection methods, are now seen as essential supports in financial management that also aim to choose truly productive forms of charge. According to modern standards, unproductiveness is a major flaw of any specific tax. The progress made in these areas is best illustrated by English finance, although both French and German fiscal histories offer many valuable examples.

In a third direction the co-ordination of finance has been just as remarkable. Financial adjustment implies the conception of a balance, and this should be found in the relation of outlay and income. Under the pressure of war and other emergencies it has been found impossible to maintain this desirable equilibrium. But the use of the system of credit, and the general establishment of constitutional government, have enabled the difficulty to be surmounted by the creation on a vast scale of national debts. Apart from the special problems that this system of borrowing raises, there is the general one of its aid in making national finance continuous and orderly. Deficits can be transferred to the capital account, and the country’s resources employed most usefully by repaying liabilities contracted in times of extreme need. The growth of this department, parallel with the general progress of finance, is significant of its function.

In a third area, the coordination of finance has been just as impressive. Financial adjustment means creating a balance, which should be found in the relationship between spending and income. However, due to the pressures of war and other emergencies, maintaining this balance has proven impossible. But the use of credit systems and the widespread establishment of constitutional governments have allowed us to overcome this challenge by creating large national debts. Aside from the specific issues that come with this borrowing system, there’s the overall advantage of helping to keep national finance steady and organized. Deficits can be moved to the capital account, allowing the country's resources to be used effectively by repaying debts incurred during times of urgent need. The growth of this sector, alongside the overall development of finance, highlights its importance.

Finally, in all countries though with diversities due to national peculiarities, the modes of account and control have been brought into a more effective condition. Previous legislative sanction for both expenditure and receipts in all their particular forms is absolutely necessary; so is thorough scrutiny of the actual application of the funds provided. Either by administrative survey or by judicial examination care is taken to see that there has been no improper diversion from the designed purposes. It is only when the varied systems of financial organization are studied in their general bearing, and with regard to what may be called their frame-work, that their essential resemblance is thoroughly realized. Such a real underlying unity is the reason and justification for regarding “public finance” as a distinct subject of study and as an independent division of political science.

Finally, in all countries, despite differences due to unique national characteristics, the methods of accounting and control have been made more effective. Prior legislative approval for both spending and revenue in all their various forms is absolutely necessary; so is thorough examination of how the funds are actually used. Whether through administrative reviews or judicial scrutiny, care is taken to ensure that there’s been no improper use of the funds from their intended purposes. It’s only when the different systems of financial organization are looked at in their overall context and structural framework that their fundamental similarities become clear. This shared underlying unity is the reason and justification for treating “public finance” as a distinct field of study and as a separate branch of political science.

Local Finance.—One of the most remarkable features of modern financial development has been the growth of the complementary system of local finance, which in extent and complication bids to rival that of the central authority. Under the constraining power of the Roman Empire the older city states were reduced to the position of municipalities, and their financial administration became dependent on the control of the Emperor—as is abundantly illustrated in the correspondence of Pliny and Trajan. After the fall of the Western Empire, a partial revival of city life, particularly in Italy and Germany, gave some scope for a return to the type of finance presented by the Athenian state. Florence affords an instructive specimen; but the passage from feudalism to the national state under the authority of monarchy made the cities and country districts parts of a larger whole. It is in this condition of subordination that the finance of localities has been framed and effectively organized. Though each great state has adopted its own methods, influenced by historical circumstances and by ideas of policy, there are general resemblances that furnish material for scientific treatment and allow of important generalizations being made.

Local Finance.—One of the most notable aspects of modern financial development has been the growth of the complementary local finance system, which in size and complexity rivals that of the central authority. Under the dominant power of the Roman Empire, the older city-states were reduced to municipalities, and their financial management became dependent on the Emperor's control— as evidenced by the correspondence between Pliny and Trajan. After the fall of the Western Empire, there was a partial revival of city life, especially in Italy and Germany, which allowed for some return to the type of finance seen in the Athenian state. Florence serves as an illustrative example; however, the transition from feudalism to the national state under monarchical authority integrated cities and rural areas into a larger whole. It is in this state of subordination that local finance has been developed and effectively organized. Although each major state has adopted its own methods, influenced by historical contexts and policy ideas, there are commonalities that provide a basis for scientific analysis and enable significant generalizations to be made.

Amongst these the first to be noticed is the essential subordination of local finance. Alike in expenditure, in forms of receipt, and in methods of administration the central government has the right of directing and supervising the work of municipal and provincial agencies. The modes employed are various, but they all rest on the sovereignty of the state, whether exercised by the central officials or by the courts. A second characteristic is the predominance of the economic element in the several tasks that local administrations have to perform, and the consequent tendency to treat the charges of local finance as payments for services rendered, or, in the usual phrase, to apply the “benefits” principle, in contrast to that of “ability,” which rightly prevails in national finance. Over a great part of municipal administration—particularly that engaged in supplying the needs of the individual citizens—the finance may be assimilated to that of the joint-stock company, with of course the necessary differences, viz. that the association is compulsory; and that dividends are paid, not in money, but in social advantage. The great expansion in recent years of what is known as Municipal Trading has brought this aspect of local finance into prominence. Water supply, transport and lighting have become public services, requiring careful financial management, and still retaining traces of their earlier private character.

Among these, the first thing to notice is the crucial subordination of local finance. In terms of spending, revenue sources, and administrative methods, the central government has the authority to direct and oversee the activities of municipal and provincial agencies. The approaches used vary, but they all rely on state sovereignty, whether exercised by central officials or by the courts. A second key feature is the dominance of the economic aspect in the various tasks that local administrations are responsible for, leading to a tendency to view local finance charges as payments for services provided, or, as it’s commonly said, to apply the "benefits" principle, as opposed to the "ability" principle, which rightly prevails in national finance. Much of municipal administration—especially that focused on meeting the needs of individual citizens—can be likened to that of a joint-stock company, with the necessary differences, namely that membership is mandatory and that dividends are paid not in cash but in social benefits. The significant growth in recent years of what is known as Municipal Trading has highlighted this aspect of local finance. Services like water supply, transportation, and lighting have become public services that require careful financial management, while still showing remnants of their earlier private nature.

Corresponding to the mainly economic nature of local expenditure there is the further limitation imposed on the side of revenue. Unlike the state in this, localities are limited in respect to the amount and form of their taxation. Several distinct influences combine to produce this result. The needs of the central government lead to its retention of the more profitable modes of procuring revenue. No modern country can surrender the chief direct and indirect taxes to the local administrations. Another limiting condition is found in the practical impossibility of levying by local agencies such imposts as the customs and the income-tax in their modern forms. The elaborate machinery that is requisite for covering the national area and securing the revenue against loss can only be provided by an authority that can deal with the whole territory. Hence the very general limitation of local revenues to certain typical forms. Though in some cases municipal taxation is imposed on commodities in the form of octrois or entry duties—as is notably the case in France—yet the prevailing tendency is towards the levy of direct charges on immovable property, which cannot escape by removal outside the tax jurisdiction. In addition to these “land” and “house” taxes, the employment of licence duties on trades, particularly those that are in special need of supervision, is a favourite method. Closely akin are the payments demanded for privileges to industrial undertakings given as “franchises,” very often in connexion with monopolies, e.g. gas-works and tramways. Over and above the peculiar revenues of local bodies there is the further resource—which emphasizes the subordinate position of local finance—of obtaining supplemental revenue from the central treasury, either by taxes additional to the charges of the state, and collected at the same time; or by donations from its funds, in the shape of grants for special services, or assignments of certain parts of the state’s receipts. Great Britain, France and Prussia furnish good examples of these different modes of preserving local administration from financial collapse.

Corresponding to the primarily economic nature of local spending, there are additional restrictions on revenue. Unlike the state, local governments are limited in how much and what types of taxes they can impose. Several different factors contribute to this situation. The needs of the central government cause it to keep the more profitable ways of generating revenue. No modern country can hand over the main direct and indirect taxes to local administrations. Another limiting factor is the practical difficulty of local agencies collecting taxes like customs duties and income tax in their current forms. The complex systems needed to cover the national territory and ensure revenue collection against loss can only be provided by an authority that handles the entire area. Therefore, local revenues are generally restricted to certain standard types. Although in some cases, municipal taxation is applied to goods through entry duties or tolls—especially in France—the general trend is toward imposing direct taxes on real estate, which can't easily avoid taxation by moving outside the local jurisdiction. Besides these “land” and “house” taxes, local governments often charge licensing fees for businesses, particularly those that require close supervision. Similar are the payments required for privileges granted to industrial ventures as “franchises,” often linked to monopolies, like gasworks and tram lines. In addition to the unique revenues collected by local authorities, there is also the option—highlighting the subordinate role of local finance—of receiving additional funds from the central treasury, either through extra taxes collected alongside state charges or through grants for specific services or by receiving a portion of the state’s receipts. Great Britain, France, and Prussia provide good examples of these different methods of preventing local administrations from facing financial difficulties.

The broad resemblance between the two parts of the entire system of public finance is seen in another direction. To national debts there has been added a great mass of municipal and local indebtedness, which seems likely to equal, or even exceed in magnitude the liabilities of the central governments. But here also the essential limitations of the newer form are easily perceptible. The sovereignty of the state enables it to deal as it thinks best with the public creditor. In its methods of borrowing, in its plans for repayment, or, in extremity, in its power of repudiation it is independent of external control. Local debt on the other hand can only be contracted under the sanction of the appropriate administrative organ of the state. The creditor has the right of claiming the aid of the law against the defaulting municipality; and the amounts, the terms, and the time of duration of local debt are supervised in order to prevent injustice to particular persons or improvidence with regard to the revenue and property of the local units. The chief reason for contracting local debt being the establishment of works that are, directly or indirectly, reproductive, the governing conditions are evidently to be found in the character and probable yield of those businesses. The principles of company investments are fully applicable: the creation of sinking-funds, the fixing the term of each loan to the time at which the return from its employment ceases, and the avoidance of the formation of fictitious capital, become guiding 352 rules from this part of finance, and indicate the connexion with what the commercial world calls “financial operations.”

The strong similarity between the two parts of the entire public finance system can be seen in another way. Alongside national debts, there has been a significant amount of municipal and local debt, which seems likely to match or even surpass the liabilities of central governments. However, the fundamental limitations of this newer form are also clear. The state's sovereignty allows it to manage its obligations to creditors as it sees fit. Whether in borrowing strategies, repayment plans, or, in extreme cases, its ability to default, it operates independently of external oversight. In contrast, local debt can only be incurred with approval from the relevant government authority. Creditors have the right to seek legal recourse against a defaulting municipality, and the amounts, terms, and duration of local debt are monitored to prevent unfairness to individuals or mismanagement of local revenue and assets. The primary reason for taking on local debt is to fund projects that are likely to generate returns, so the governing conditions are clearly linked to the nature and anticipated profitability of those ventures. The principles of corporate investing apply fully here: establishing sinking funds, timing each loan's term to align with when its returns stop, and avoiding the creation of fictitious assets become essential guidelines in this area of finance, indicating a connection to what the business world refers to as “financial operations.” 352

Finally, there is the same set of problems in respect to accounting and control in local as in central finance. Though the materials are simpler, the need for a well-prepared budget is existent in the case of the city, county or department, if there is to be clear and accurate financial management. Perhaps the greatest weakness of local finance lies in this direction. The public opinion that affects the national budget is unfortunately too often lacking in the most important towns, not excluding those in which political life is highly developed.

Finally, the same issues regarding accounting and control apply to both local and central finance. Even though the materials are simpler, there is still a need for a solid budget in cities, counties, or departments for effective financial management. Perhaps the biggest weakness in local finance lies in this area. Public opinion that influences the national budget is unfortunately often missing in the key towns, including those with a vibrant political scene.

Bibliography.—The English literature on finance is rather unsatisfactory; for public finance the available text-books are: Adams, Science of Finance (New York, 1898); Bastable, Public Finance (London, 1892; 3rd ed., 1903); Daniels, Public Finance (New York, 1899), and Plehn, Public Finance (3rd ed., New York, 1909). In French, Leroy-Beaulieu, Traité de la science des finances (1877; 3rd ed., 1908), is the standard work. The German literature is abundant. Roscher, 5th ed. (edited by Gerlach), 1901; Wagner (4 vols.), incomplete; Cohn (1889) and Eheberg (9th ed., 1908) have published works entitled Finanzwissenschaft, dealing with all the aspects of state finance. For Greek financial history Boekh, Staalshaushaltung der Athenen (ed. Fränkel, 1887), is still a standard work. For Rome, Marquardt, Römische Staatsverwaltung, vol. ii., and Humbert, Les Finances et la comptabilité publique chez les Romains, are valuable. Clamageran, Histoire de l’impôt en France (1876), gives the earlier development of French finance. R.H. Patterson, Science of Finance (London, 1868), C.S. Meade, Trust Finance (1903), and E. Carroll, Principles and Practice of Finance, deal with finance in the wider sense of business transactions.

References.—The English literature on finance is quite lacking; for public finance, the available textbooks are: Adams, Science of Finance (New York, 1898); Bastable, Public Finance (London, 1892; 3rd ed., 1903); Daniels, Public Finance (New York, 1899), and Plehn, Public Finance (3rd ed., New York, 1909). In French, Leroy-Beaulieu, Traité de la science des finances (1877; 3rd ed., 1908), is the standard work. The German literature is plentiful. Roscher, 5th ed. (edited by Gerlach), 1901; Wagner (4 vols.), incomplete; Cohn (1889) and Eheberg (9th ed., 1908) have published works titled Finanzwissenschaft, covering all aspects of state finance. For Greek financial history, Boekh, Staalshaushaltung der Athenen (ed. Fränkel, 1887), remains a standard work. For Rome, Marquardt, Römische Staatsverwaltung, vol. ii., and Humbert, Les Finances et la comptabilité publique chez les Romains, are particularly valuable. Clamageran, Histoire de l’impôt en France (1876), traces the earlier development of French finance. R.H. Patterson, Science of Finance (London, 1868), C.S. Meade, Trust Finance (1903), and E. Carroll, Principles and Practice of Finance, discuss finance in the broader context of business transactions.

(C. F. B.)

FINCH, FINCH-HATTON. This old English family has had many notable members, and has contributed in no small degree to the peerage. Sir Thomas Finch (d. 1563), who was knighted for his share in suppressing Sir T. Wyatt’s insurrection against Queen Mary, was a soldier of note, and was the son and heir of Sir William Finch, who was knighted in 1513. He was the father of Sir Moyle Finch (d. 1614), who was created a baronet in 1611, and whose widow Elizabeth (daughter of Sir Thomas Heneage) was created a peeress as countess of Maidstone in 1623 and countess of Winchilsea in 1628; and also of Sir Henry Finch (1558-1625), whose son John, Baron Finch of Fordwich (1584-1660), is separately noticed. Thomas, eldest son of Sir Moyle, succeeded his mother as first earl of Winchilsea; and Sir Heneage, the fourth son (d. 1631), was the speaker of the House of Commons, whose son Heneage (1621-1682), lord chancellor, was created earl of Nottingham in 1675. The latter’s second son Heneage (1649-1719) was created earl of Aylesford in 1714. The earldoms of Winchilsea and Nottingham became united in 1729, when the fifth earl of Winchilsea died, leaving no son, and the title passed to his cousin the second earl of Nottingham, the earldom of Nottingham having since then been held by the earl of Winchilsea. In 1826, on the death of the ninth earl of Winchilsea and fifth of Nottingham, his cousin George William Finch-Hatton succeeded to the titles, the additional surname of Hatton (since held in this line) having been assumed in 1764 by his father under the will of an aunt, a daughter of Christopher, Viscount Hatton (1632-1706), whose father was related to the famous Sir Christopher Hatton.

FINCH, FINCH-HATTON. This old English family has had many notable members and has contributed significantly to the peerage. Sir Thomas Finch (d. 1563), who was knighted for his role in quelling Sir T. Wyatt’s rebellion against Queen Mary, was a distinguished soldier and the son and heir of Sir William Finch, who was knighted in 1513. He was the father of Sir Moyle Finch (d. 1614), who was made a baronet in 1611, and whose widow Elizabeth (daughter of Sir Thomas Heneage) became a peeress as countess of Maidstone in 1623 and countess of Winchilsea in 1628; he also had a son, Sir Henry Finch (1558-1625), whose son John, Baron Finch of Fordwich (1584-1660), is mentioned separately. Thomas, the eldest son of Sir Moyle, succeeded his mother as the first earl of Winchilsea; and Sir Heneage, the fourth son (d. 1631), served as the speaker of the House of Commons, and his son Heneage (1621-1682), who became lord chancellor, was made earl of Nottingham in 1675. The latter's second son Heneage (1649-1719) was created earl of Aylesford in 1714. The earldoms of Winchilsea and Nottingham were united in 1729 when the fifth earl of Winchilsea passed away without a son, and the title went to his cousin, the second earl of Nottingham, with the earldom of Nottingham since being held by the earl of Winchilsea. In 1826, following the death of the ninth earl of Winchilsea and fifth of Nottingham, his cousin George William Finch-Hatton inherited the titles, having taken the additional surname of Hatton (which has been used in this line since) in 1764 under the will of an aunt, a daughter of Christopher, Viscount Hatton (1632-1706), whose father was related to the famous Sir Christopher Hatton.


FINCH OF FORDWICH, JOHN FINCH, Baron (1584-1660), generally known as Sir John Finch, English judge, a member of the old family of Finch, was born on the 17th of September 1584, and was called to the bar in 1611. He was returned to parliament for Canterbury in 1614, and became recorder of the same place in 1617. Having attracted the notice of Charles I., who visited Canterbury in 1625, and was received with an address by Finch in his capacity as recorder, he was the following year appointed king’s counsel and attorney-general to the queen and was knighted. In 1628 he was elected speaker of the House of Commons, a post which he retained till its dissolution in 1629. He was the speaker who was held down in his chair by Holles and others on the occasion of Sir John Eliot’s resolution on tonnage and poundage. In 1634 he was appointed chief justice of the court of common pleas, and distinguished himself by the active zeal with which he upheld the king’s prerogative. Notable also was the brutality which characterized his conduct as chief justice, particularly in the cases of William Prynne and John Langton. He presided over the trial of John Hampden, who resisted the payment of ship-money, and he was chiefly responsible for the decision of the judges that ship-money was constitutional. As a reward for his services he was, in 1640, appointed lord keeper, and was also created Baron Finch of Fordwich. He had, however, become so unpopular that one of the first acts of the Long Parliament, which met in the same year was his impeachment. He took refuge in Holland, but had to suffer the sequestration of his estates. When he was allowed to return to England is uncertain, but in 1660 he was one of the commissioners for the trial of the regicides, though he does not appear to have taken much part in the proceedings. He died on the 27th of November 1660 and was buried in St Martin’s church near Canterbury, his peerage becoming extinct.

FINCH OF FORDWICH, JOHN FINCH, Baron (1584-1660), generally known as Sir John Finch, was an English judge from the old Finch family. He was born on September 17, 1584, and called to the bar in 1611. He was elected to parliament for Canterbury in 1614 and became the recorder of the same city in 1617. He caught the attention of Charles I., who visited Canterbury in 1625, where Finch welcomed him with an address as recorder. The following year, he was appointed king’s counsel and attorney-general to the queen and was knighted. In 1628, he was elected speaker of the House of Commons, a position he held until its dissolution in 1629. He was the speaker who was physically held in his chair by Holles and others during Sir John Eliot’s resolution on tonnage and poundage. In 1634, he was appointed chief justice of the court of common pleas, where he showed a strong commitment to upholding the king’s power. His actions as chief justice were also marked by brutality, particularly in the cases of William Prynne and John Langton. He presided over the trial of John Hampden, who refused to pay ship-money, and was largely responsible for the judges' ruling that ship-money was constitutional. As a reward for his service, he was appointed lord keeper in 1640 and also became Baron Finch of Fordwich. However, he had become so unpopular that one of the first acts of the Long Parliament, which convened that same year, was to impeach him. He fled to Holland but faced the sequestration of his estates. It's unclear when he was allowed to return to England, but by 1660, he was one of the commissioners for the trial of the regicides, although he didn't seem to play a significant role in the proceedings. He died on November 27, 1660, and was buried in St Martin’s Church near Canterbury, with his peerage becoming extinct.

See Foss, Lives of the Judges; Campbell, Lives of the Chief Justices.

See Foss, Lives of the Judges; Campbell, Lives of the Chief Justices.


FINCH (Ger. Fink, Lat. Fringilla), a name applied (but almost always in composition—as bullfinch, chaffinch, goldfinch, hawfinch, &c.) to a great many small birds of the order Passeres, and now pretty generally accepted as that of a group or family—the Fringillidae of most ornithologists. Yet it is one the extent of which must be regarded as being uncertain. Many writers have included in it the buntings (Emberizidae), though these seem to be quite distinct, as well as the larks (Alaudidae), the tanagers (Tanagridae), and the weaver-birds (Ploceidae). Others have separated from it the crossbills, under the title of Loxiidae, but without due cause. The difficulty which at this time presents itself in regard to the limits of the Fringillidae arises from our ignorance of the anatomical features, especially those of the head, possessed by many exotic forms.

FINCH (Ger. Fink, Lat. Fringilla), a term used (mostly in combination—like bullfinch, chaffinch, goldfinch, hawfinch, etc.) for a wide range of small birds in the order Passeres, is now generally recognized as the name for a group or family—the Fringillidae by most ornithologists. However, its scope is still considered uncertain. Many authors have included buntings (Emberizidae) in this group, although they seem to be quite distinct, as well as larks (Alaudidae), tanagers (Tanagridae), and weaver-birds (Ploceidae). Others have separated crossbills into their own category called Loxiidae, but without sufficient reason. The current challenge regarding the boundaries of the Fringillidae stems from our lack of knowledge about the anatomical characteristics, especially those of the head, in many exotic species.

Taken as a whole, the finches, concerning which no reasonable doubt can exist, are not only little birds with a hard bill, adapted in most cases for shelling and eating the various seeds that form the chief portion of their diet when adult, but they appear to be mainly forms which predominate in and are highly characteristic of the Palaearctic Region; moreover, though some are found elsewhere on the globe, the existence of but very few in the Notogaean hemisphere can as yet be regarded as certain.

Taken together, the finches, about which there’s no reasonable doubt, are not just small birds with strong beaks, suited primarily for cracking open and eating the various seeds that make up most of their diet as adults, but they also seem to mainly be types that dominate and are very characteristic of the Palaearctic Region; additionally, while some can be found in other parts of the world, the presence of very few in the Notogaean hemisphere can still be considered uncertain.

But even with this limitation, the separation of the undoubted Fringillidae1 into groups is a difficult task. Were we merely to consider the superficial character of the form of the bill, the genus Loxia (in its modern sense) would be easily divided not only from the other finches, but from all other birds. The birds of this genus—the crossbills—when their other characters are taken into account, prove to be intimately allied on the one hand to the grosbeaks (Pinicola) and on the other through the redpolls (Aegiothus) to the linnets (Linota)—if indeed these two can be properly separated. The linnets, through the genus Leucosticte, lead to the mountain-finches (Montifringilla), and the redpolls through the siskins (Chrysomitris) to the goldfinches (Carduelis); and these last again to the hawfinches, one group of which (Coccothraustes) is apparently not far distant from the chaffinches (Fringilla proper), and the other (Hesperiphona) seems to be allied to the greenfinches (Ligurinus). Then there is the group of serins (Serinus), to which the canary belongs, that one is in doubt whether to refer to the vicinity of the greenfinches or that of the redpolls. The mountain-finches may be regarded as pointing first to the rock-sparrows (Petronia) and then to the true sparrows (Passer); while the grosbeaks pass into many varied forms and throw out a very well marked form—the bullfinches (Pyrrhula). Some of the modifications of the family are very gradual, and therefore conclusions founded on them are likely to be correct; others are further apart, and the links which connect them, if not altogether missing, can but be surmised. To avoid as much as possible prejudicing the case, we shall therefore take the different groups of Fringillidae which it is convenient to consider in this article in an alphabetical arrangement.

But even with this limitation, categorizing the undeniable Fringillidae1 into groups is a challenging task. If we only look at the basic shape of the bill, the genus Loxia (in its current understanding) could easily be separated not just from other finches, but from all other birds. The birds in this genus—the crossbills—when considering their other traits, show a close relationship on one side to the grosbeaks (Pinicola) and on the other, through the redpolls (Aegiothus), to the linnets (Linota)—if, in fact, these two can be clearly differentiated. The linnets, through the genus Leucosticte, connect to the mountain-finches (Montifringilla), and the redpolls link through the siskins (Chrysomitris) to the goldfinches (Carduelis); and these last species also relate to the hawfinches, one group of which (Coccothraustes) seems to be closely linked to the chaffinches (Fringilla proper), while the other (Hesperiphona) appears to be connected to the greenfinches (Ligurinus). Then there is the group of serins (Serinus), which includes the canary, and it's uncertain whether to associate it more with the greenfinches or the redpolls. The mountain-finches could be seen as indicating a pathway first to the rock-sparrows (Petronia) and then to the true sparrows (Passer); while the grosbeaks transition into various forms and produce a clearly defined form—the bullfinches (Pyrrhula). Some changes within the family are very gradual, making any conclusions based on them likely to be accurate; others are more distinct, and the connections between them, if not entirely absent, can only be inferred. To minimize any bias, we will organize the different groups of Fringillidae that we find convenient to discuss in this article alphabetically.

Of the Bullfinches the best known is the familiar bird (Pyrrhula 353 europaea). The varied plumage of the cock—his bright red breast and his grey back, set off by his coal-black head and quills—is naturally attractive; while the facility with which he is tamed, with his engaging disposition in confinement, makes him a popular cage-bird,—to say nothing of the fact (which in the opinion of so many adds to his charms) of his readily learning to “pipe” a tune, or some bars of one. By gardeners the bullfinch has long been regarded as a deadly enemy, from its undoubted destruction of the buds of fruit-trees in spring-time, though whether the destruction is really so much of a detriment is by no means so undoubted. Northern and eastern Europe is inhabited by a larger form (P. major), which differs in nothing but size and more vivid tints from that which is common in the British Isles and western Europe. A very distinct species (P. murina), remarkable for its dull coloration, is peculiar to the Azores, and several others are found in Asia from the Himalayas to Japan. A bullfinch (P. cassini) has been discovered in Alaska, being the first recognition of this genus in the New World.

Of the bullfinches, the most well-known is the familiar bird (Pyrrhula europaea). The cock's varied plumage—his bright red breast and grey back, highlighted by his coal-black head and feathers—is naturally attractive. Additionally, his ability to be tamed easily and his friendly nature in captivity make him a popular cage bird. Many also find it charming that he can quickly learn to “pipe” a tune or a few notes. Gardeners have long seen the bullfinch as a serious threat due to its considerable destruction of fruit tree buds in the spring. However, it’s not entirely clear if this destruction is as harmful as people think. Northern and eastern Europe is home to a larger version (P. major), which only differs in size and more vivid colors from the one commonly found in the British Isles and western Europe. A distinct species (P. murina), noted for its dull coloration, is unique to the Azores, and several other species are found in Asia from the Himalayas to Japan. A bullfinch (P. cassini) has been spotted in Alaska, marking the first identification of this genus in the New World.

The Canary (Serinus canarius) is indigenous to the islands whence it takes its name, as well, apparently, as to the neighbouring groups of the Madeiras and Azores, in all of which it abounds. It seems to have been imported into Europe at least as early as the first half of the 16th century,2 and has since become the commonest of cage-birds. The wild stock is of an olive-green, mottled with dark brown above, and greenish-yellow beneath. All the bright-hued examples we now see in captivity have been induced by carefully breeding from any chance varieties that have shown themselves; and not only the colour, but the build and stature of the bird have in this manner been greatly modified. The ingenuity of “the fancy,” which might seem to have exhausted itself in the production of topknots, feathered feet, and so forth, has brought about a still further change from the original type. It has been found that by a particular treatment, in which the mixing of large quantities of vegetable colouring agents with the food plays an important part, the ordinary “canary yellow” may be intensified so as to verge upon a more or less brilliant flame colour.3

The Canary (Serinus canarius) comes from the islands it’s named after and also from the nearby Madeira and Azores islands, where it’s abundant. It appears to have been brought to Europe as early as the first half of the 16th century, 2 and has since become the most common cage bird. The wild canaries are olive-green, speckled with dark brown on their backs, and greenish-yellow underneath. All the brightly colored canaries we see in cages today are the result of careful breeding from various random colors that have appeared; through this process, not just their color, but also their shape and size have changed significantly. The creativity of breeders, who might seem to have run out of ideas after creating unique features like topknots and feathered feet, has led to even more changes from the original bird type. It has been discovered that by using a specific method, which involves mixing large amounts of plant-based color additives into their food, the typical “canary yellow” can be intensified to a vibrant flame color. 3

Very nearly resembling the canary, but smaller in size, is the Serin (Serinus hortulanus), a species which not long since was very local in Europe, and chiefly known to inhabit the countries bordering on the Mediterranean. It has pushed its way towards the north, and has even been several times taken in England (Yarrell’s Brit. Birds, ed. 4, ii. pp. 111-116). A closely allied species (S. canonicus) is peculiar to Palestine.

The Serin (Serinus hortulanus) looks a lot like a canary but is smaller. Not too long ago, it was found only in certain parts of Europe, mainly in countries around the Mediterranean. It has gradually moved north and has even been spotted several times in England (Yarrell’s Brit. Birds, ed. 4, ii. pp. 111-116). Another closely related species, (S. canonicus), is unique to Palestine.

The Chaffinches are regarded as the type-form of Fringillidae. The handsome and sprightly Fringilla coelebs4 is common throughout the whole of Europe. Conspicuous by his variegated plumage, his peculiar call note5 and his glad song, the cock is almost everywhere a favourite. In Algeria the British chaffinch is replaced by a closely-allied species (F. spodogenia), while in the Atlantic Islands it is represented by two others (F. tintillon and F. teydea)—all of which, while possessing the general appearance of the European bird, are clothed in soberer tints.6 Another species of true Fringilla is the brambling (F. montifringilla), which has its home in the birch forests of northern Europe and Asia, whence it yearly proceeds, often in flocks of thousands, to pass the winter in more southern countries. This bird is still more beautifully coloured than the chaffinch—especially in summer, when, the brown edges of the feathers being shed, it presents a rich combination of black, white and orange. Even in winter, however, its diversified plumage is sufficiently striking.

The Chaffinches are considered the typical example of Fringillidae. The attractive and lively Fringilla coelebs4 is found throughout Europe. Easy to spot due to his colorful feathers, unique call5 and joyful song, the male is a favorite almost everywhere. In Algeria, the British chaffinch is replaced by a closely related species (F. spodogenia), while in the Atlantic Islands, two others (F. tintillon and F. teydea) represent it—all of which, while sharing the general look of the European bird, have more muted colors.6 Another true Fringilla species is the brambling (F. montifringilla), which lives in the birch forests of northern Europe and Asia. Each year, it migrates, often in flocks of thousands, to spend the winter in warmer regions. This bird is even more beautifully colored than the chaffinch—especially in summer, when the brown edges of its feathers are molted, resulting in a rich mix of black, white, and orange. Even in winter, though, its varied plumage is quite striking.

With the exception of the single species of bullfinch already noticed as occurring in Alaska, all the above forms of finches are peculiar to the Palaearctic Region.

Aside from the single species of bullfinch mentioned before that can be found in Alaska, all the finch types listed above are unique to the Palaearctic Region.

(A. N.)

1 About 200 species of these have been described, and perhaps 150 may really exist.

1 About 200 species of these have been described, and perhaps 150 may actually exist.

2 The earliest published description seems to be that of Gesner in 1555 (Orn. p. 234), but he had not seen the bird, an account of which was communicated to him by Raphael Seiler of Augsburg, under the name of Suckeruögele.

2 The earliest published description appears to be by Gesner in 1555 (Orn. p. 234), but he hadn't actually seen the bird. The information was shared with him by Raphael Seiler from Augsburg, who referred to it as Suckeruögele.

3 See also The Canary Book, by Robert L. Wallace; Canaries and Cage Birds, by W.A. Blackston; and Darwin’s Animals and Plants under Domestication, vol. i. p. 295. An excellent monograph on the wild bird is that by Dr Carl Bolle (Journ. für Orn., 1858, pp. 125-151).

3 See also The Canary Book by Robert L. Wallace; Canaries and Cage Birds by W.A. Blackston; and Darwin’s Animals and Plants under Domestication, vol. i. p. 295. A great monograph on the wild bird is by Dr. Carl Bolle (Journ. für Orn., 1858, pp. 125-151).

4 This fanciful trivial name was given by Linnaeus on the supposition (which later observations do not entirely confirm) that in Sweden the hens of the species migrated southward in autumn, leaving the cocks to lead a celibate life till spring. It is certain, however, that in some localities the sexes live apart during the winter.

4 This whimsical name was given by Linnaeus based on the assumption (which later observations don’t fully support) that in Sweden, the female chickens of this species migrate south in the fall, leaving the males to live alone until spring. However, it is certain that in some areas, the males and females stay separated during the winter.

5 This call-note, which to many ears sounds like “pink” or “spink,” not only gives the bird a name in many parts of Britain, but is also obviously the origin of the German Fink and the English Finch. The similar Celtic form Pinc is said to have given rise to the Low Latin Pincio, and thence come the Italian Pincione, the Spanish Pinzon, and the French Pinson.

5 This call note, which many people hear as “pink” or “spink,” not only names the bird in various regions of Britain, but also clearly inspired the German Fink and the English Finch. The similar Celtic version Pinc is believed to have led to the Low Latin Pincio, which in turn gave rise to the Italian Pincione, the Spanish Pinzon, and the French Pinson.

6 This is especially the ease with F. teydea of the Canary Islands, which from its dark colouring and large size forms a kind of parallel to the Azorean Pyrrhula murina.

6 This is especially true for F. teydea from the Canary Islands, which, because of its dark color and large size, is similar to the Azorean Pyrrhula murina.


FINCHLEY, an urban district in the Hornsey parliamentary division of Middlesex, England, 7 m. N.W. of St Paul’s cathedral, London, on a branch of the Great Northern railway. Pop. (1891) 16,647; (1901) 22,126. A part, adjoining Highgate on the north, lies at an elevation between 300 and 400 ft., while a portion in the Church End district lies lower, in the valley of the Dollis Brook. The pleasant, healthy situation has caused Finchley to become a populous residential district. Finchley Common was formerly one of the most notorious resorts of highwaymen near London; the Great North Road crossed it, and it was a haunt of Dick Turpin and Jack Sheppard, and was still dangerous to cross at night at the close of the 18th century. Sheppard was captured in this neighbourhood in 1724. The Common has not been preserved from the builder. In 1660 George Monk, marching on London immediately before the Restoration, made his camp on the Common, and in 1745 a regular and volunteer force encamped here, prepared to resist the Pretender, who was at Derby. The gathering of this force inspired Hogarth’s famous picture, the “March of the Guards to Finchley.”

FINCHLEY, is an urban area in the Hornsey parliamentary district of Middlesex, England, located 7 miles northwest of St Paul’s Cathedral in London, on a branch of the Great Northern railway. Population: (1891) 16,647; (1901) 22,126. A part of Finchley, next to Highgate to the north, is at an elevation of between 300 and 400 feet, while a section in the Church End area is lower, in the valley of the Dollis Brook. Its pleasant and healthy environment has made Finchley a popular residential area. Finchley Common was once one of the most infamous hangouts for highwaymen near London; the Great North Road ran through it, and it was frequented by Dick Turpin and Jack Sheppard, remaining dangerous to cross at night until the end of the 18th century. Sheppard was captured in this area in 1724. The Common has not been spared from development. In 1660, George Monk camped on the Common while marching towards London just before the Restoration, and in 1745, both regular and volunteer troops set up camp here, ready to confront the Pretender, who was in Derby. The gathering of this force inspired Hogarth’s famous painting, “The March of the Guards to Finchley.”


FINCK, FRIEDRICH AUGUST VON (1718-1766), Prussian soldier, was born at Strelitz in 1718. He first saw active service in 1734 on the Rhine, as a member of the suite of Duke Anton Ulrich of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel. Soon after this he transferred to the Austrian service, and thence went to Russia, where he served until the fall of his patron Marshal Münnich put an end to his prospects of advancement. In 1742 he went to Berlin, and Frederick the Great made him his aide-de-camp, with the rank of major. Good service brought him rapid promotion in the Seven Years’ War. After the battle of Kolin (June 18th, 1757) he was made colonel, and at the end of 1757 major-general. At the beginning of 1759 Finck became lieutenant-general, and in this rank commanded a corps at the disastrous battle of Kunersdorf, where he did good service both on the field of battle and (Frederick having in despair handed over to him the command) in the rallying of the beaten Prussians. Later in the year he fought in concert with General Wunsch a widespread combat, called the action of Korbitz (Sept. 21st) in which the Austrians and the contingents of the minor states of the Empire were sharply defeated. For this action Frederick gave Finck the Black Eagle (Seyfarth, Beilagen, ii. 621-630). But the subsequent catastrophe of Maxen (see Seven Years’ War) abruptly put an end to Finck’s active career. Dangerously exposed, and with inadequate forces, Finck received the king’s positive order to march upon Maxen (a village in the Pirna region of Saxony). Unfortunately for himself the general dared not disobey his master, and, cut off by greatly superior numbers, was forced to surrender with some 11,000 men (21st Nov. 1759). After the peace, Frederick sent him before a court-martial, which sentenced him to be cashiered and to suffer a term of imprisonment in a fortress. At the expiry of this term Finck entered the Danish service as general of infantry. He died at Copenhagen in 1766.

FINCK, FRIEDRICH AUGUST VON (1718-1766), Prussian soldier, was born in Strelitz in 1718. He first saw active duty in 1734 on the Rhine, serving as part of Duke Anton Ulrich of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel's entourage. Shortly after, he switched to the Austrian army and then moved to Russia, where he served until the fall of his mentor, Marshal Münnich, ended his chances for advancement. In 1742, he went to Berlin, where Frederick the Great appointed him as his aide-de-camp with the rank of major. His outstanding service led to quick promotions during the Seven Years’ War. After the battle of Kolin (June 18, 1757), he was promoted to colonel, and by the end of 1757, he had reached the rank of major-general. Early in 1759, Finck became a lieutenant-general, commanding a corps during the disastrous battle of Kunersdorf, where he performed admirably both on the battlefield and (as Frederick, in despair, handed command over to him) in regrouping the defeated Prussians. Later that year, he collaborated with General Wunsch in a widespread combat known as the action of Korbitz (Sept. 21), where the Austrians and the forces from the smaller states of the Empire faced a severe defeat. For this action, Frederick awarded Finck the Black Eagle (Seyfarth, Beilagen, ii. 621-630). However, the later disaster at Maxen (see Seven Years’ War) abruptly ended Finck’s active career. Facing significant danger and with insufficient forces, Finck received a direct order from the king to march on Maxen (a village in the Pirna region of Saxony). Unfortunately for him, he could not disobey his master and, outnumbered, was forced to surrender with about 11,000 men on November 21, 1759. After the peace, Frederick brought him before a court-martial, which found him guilty, leading to his dismissal and imprisonment in a fortress. After serving his sentence, Finck joined the Danish army as a general of infantry. He died in Copenhagen in 1766.

He left a work called Gedanken über militärische Gegenstände (Berlin, 1788). See Denkwürdigkeiten der militärischen Gesellschaft, vol. ii. (Berlin, 1802-1805), and the report of the Finck court-martial in Zeitschrift für Kunst, Wissenschaft und Geschichte des Krieges, pt. 81 (Berlin, 1851). There is a life of Finck in MS. in the library of the Great General Staff.

He wrote a work called Thoughts on Military Matters (Berlin, 1788). See Memories of the Military Society, vol. ii. (Berlin, 1802-1805), and the report of the Finck court-martial in Journal for Art, Science, and the History of War, pt. 81 (Berlin, 1851). There is a biography of Finck in manuscript form in the library of the Great General Staff.


FINCK, HEINRICH (d. c. 1519), German musical composer, was probably born at Bamberg, but nothing is certainly known either of the place or date of his birth. Between 1492 and 1506 he was a musician in, and later possibly conductor of the court 354 orchestra of successive kings of Poland at Warsaw. He held the post of conductor at Stuttgart from 1510 till about 1519, in which year he probably died. His works, mostly part songs and other vocal compositions, show great musical knowledge, and amongst the early masters of the German school he holds a high position. They are found scattered amongst ancient and modern collections of songs and other musical pieces (see R. Eitner, Bibl. der Musiksammelwerke des 16. und 17. Jahrh., Berlin, 1877). The library of Zwickau possesses a work containing a collection of fifty-five songs by Finck, printed about the middle of the 16th century.

FINCK, HEINRICH (d. c. 1519), was a German musical composer, likely born in Bamberg, but there’s no solid information on his exact birthplace or birth date. Between 1492 and 1506, he was a musician and later possibly the conductor of the court orchestra for various kings of Poland in Warsaw. From 1510 until around 1519, he served as the conductor in Stuttgart, the year he probably passed away. His works, mainly part songs and other vocal compositions, demonstrate significant musical knowledge, and he holds a prominent position among the early masters of the German school. His pieces can be found scattered throughout both ancient and modern song collections (see R. Eitner, Bibl. der Musiksammelwerke des 16. und 17. Jahrh., Berlin, 1877). The library in Zwickau has a collection of fifty-five songs by Finck, printed around the mid-16th century.


FINCK, HERMANN (1527-1558), German composer, the great-nephew of Heinrich Finck, was born on the 21st of March 1527 in Pirna, and died at Wittenberg on the 28th of December 1558. After 1553 he lived at Wittenberg, where he was organist, and there, in 1555, was published his collection of “wedding songs.” Few details of his life have been preserved. His theoretical writing was good, particularly his observations on the art of singing and of making ornamentations in song. His most celebrated work is entitled Practica musica, exempla variorum signorum, proportionum, et canonum, judicium de tonis ac quaedam de arte suaviter et artificiose cantandi continens (Wittenberg, 1556). It is of great historic value, but very rare.

FINCK, HERMANN (1527-1558), a German composer and the great-nephew of Heinrich Finck, was born on March 21, 1527, in Pirna, and died in Wittenberg on December 28, 1558. After 1553, he lived in Wittenberg, where he served as the organist, and in 1555, he published his collection of “wedding songs.” Not much is known about his life. His theoretical writing was solid, particularly his insights on singing and creating embellishments in music. His most famous work is titled Practica musica, exempla variorum signorum, proportionum, et canonum, judicium de tonis ac quaedam de arte suaviter et artificiose cantandi continens (Wittenberg, 1556). It is historically significant but very rare.


FINDEN, WILLIAM (1787-1852), English line engraver, was born in 1787. He served his apprenticeship to one James Mitan, but appears to have owed far more to the influence of James Heath, whose works he privately and earnestly studied. His first employment on his own account was engraving illustrations for books, and among the most noteworthy of these early plates were Smirke’s illustrations to Don Quixote. His neat style and smooth finish made his pictures very attractive and popular, and although he executed several large plates, his chief work throughout his life was book illustration. His younger brother, Edward Finden, worked in conjunction with him, and so much demand arose for their productions that ultimately a company of assistants was engaged, and plates were produced in increasing numbers, their quality as works of art declining as their quantity rose. The largest plate executed by William Finden was the portrait of King George IV. seated on a sofa, after the painting by Sir Thomas Lawrence. For this work he received two thousand guineas, a sum larger than had ever before been paid for an engraved portrait. Finden’s next and happiest works on a large scale were the “Highlander’s Return” and the “Village Festival,” after Wilkie. Later in life he undertook, in co-operation with his brother, aided by their numerous staff, the publication as well as the production of various galleries of engravings. The first of these, a series of landscape and portrait illustrations to the life and works of Byron, appeared in 1833 and following years, and was very successful. But by his Gallery of British Art (in fifteen parts, 1838-1840), the most costly and best of these ventures, he lost the fruits of all his former success. Finden’s last undertaking was an engraving on a large scale of Hilton’s “Crucifixion.” The plate was bought by the Art Union for £1470. He died in London on the 20th of September 1852.

FINDEN, WILLIAM (1787-1852), an English line engraver, was born in 1787. He apprenticed under James Mitan but seemed to benefit much more from the influence of James Heath, whose works he studied privately and with great focus. His first independent job was engraving illustrations for books, and some of the most notable early works included Smirke’s illustrations for Don Quixote. His clean style and polished finish made his images very appealing and popular. Although he created several large plates, his main work throughout his life was book illustration. His younger brother, Edward Finden, collaborated with him, and the demand for their work grew so much that they eventually hired a team of assistants, leading to an increase in production numbers, though the artistic quality declined as the quantity rose. The largest plate William Finden created was a portrait of King George IV sitting on a sofa, based on a painting by Sir Thomas Lawrence. He received two thousand guineas for this work, a record amount for an engraved portrait at that time. His next major works, which he enjoyed, were “Highlander’s Return” and “Village Festival,” inspired by Wilkie. Later in life, he partnered with his brother and their large staff to both publish and produce various collections of engravings. The first of these was a series of landscape and portrait illustrations depicting the life and works of Byron, released in 1833 and subsequent years, which was quite successful. However, with his Gallery of British Art (in fifteen parts, 1838-1840), the most expensive and well-crafted of these projects, he lost all the benefits of his previous achievements. Finden’s final project was a large-scale engraving of Hilton’s “Crucifixion.” The plate was purchased by the Art Union for £1470. He passed away in London on September 20, 1852.


FINDLATER, ANDREW (1810-1885), Scottish editor, was born in 1810 near Aberdour, Aberdeenshire, the son of a small farmer. By hard study in the evening, after his day’s work on the farm was finished, he qualified himself for entrance at Aberdeen University, and after graduating as M.A. he attended the Divinity classes with the idea of entering the ministry. In 1853 he began that connexion with the firm of W. & R. Chambers which gave direction to his subsequent activity. His first engagement was the editing of a revised edition of their Information for the People (1857). In this capacity he gave evidence of qualities and acquirements that marked him as a suitable editor for Chambers’s Encyclopaedia, then projected, and his was the directing mind that gave it its character. Many of the more important articles were written by him. This work occupied him till 1868, and he afterwards edited a revised edition (1874). He also had charge of other publications for the same firm, and wrote regularly for the Scotsman. In 1864 he was made LL.D. of Aberdeen University. In 1877 he gave up active work for Chambers, but his services were retained as consulting editor. He died in Edinburgh on the 1st of January 1885.

FINDLATER, ANDREW (1810-1885), Scottish editor, was born in 1810 near Aberdour, Aberdeenshire, the son of a small farmer. Through diligent evening study after his day’s work on the farm, he earned his place at Aberdeen University, and after graduating with an M.A., he attended Divinity classes with the intention of entering the ministry. In 1853, he began his connection with the firm of W. & R. Chambers, which shaped his future career. His first role was editing a revised edition of their Information for the People (1857). In this position, he demonstrated the skills and knowledge that made him an ideal editor for the then-upcoming Chambers’s Encyclopaedia. He was the driving force behind its character, contributing many of the more significant articles himself. This work kept him occupied until 1868, after which he edited a revised edition (1874). He also oversaw other publications for the same firm and wrote regularly for the Scotsman. In 1864, he was awarded an LL.D. by Aberdeen University. In 1877, he stepped back from active work with Chambers, but continued as a consulting editor. He passed away in Edinburgh on January 1, 1885.


FINDLAY, SIR GEORGE (1829-1893), English railway manager, was of pure Scottish descent, and was born at Rainhill, in Lancashire, on the 18th of May 1829. For some time he attended Halifax grammar school, but left at the age of fourteen, and began to learn practical masonry on the Halifax railway, upon which his father was then employed. Two years later he obtained a situation on the Trent Valley railway works, and when that line was finished in 1847 went up to London. There he was for a short time among the men employed in building locomotive sheds for the London & North-Western railway at Camden Town, and years afterwards, when he had become general manager of that railway, he was able to point out stones which he had dressed with his own hands. For the next two or three years he was engaged in a higher capacity as supervisor of the mining and brickwork of the Harecastle tunnel on the North Staffordshire line, and of the Walton tunnel on the Birkenhead, Lancashire & Cheshire Junction railway. In 1850 the charge of the construction of a section of the Shrewsbury & Hereford line was entrusted to him, and when the line was opened for traffic T. Brassey, the contractor, having determined to work it himself, installed him as manager. In the course of his duties he was brought for the first time into official relations with the London & North-Western railway, which had undertaken to work the Newport, Abergavenny & Hereford line, and he ultimately passed into the service of that company, when in 1862, jointly with the Great Western, it leased the railway of which he was manager. In 1864 he was moved to Euston as general goods manager, in 1872 he became chief traffic manager, and in 1880 he was appointed full general manager; this last post he retained until his death, which occurred on the 26th of March 1893 at Edgware, Middlesex. He was knighted in 1892. Sir George Findlay was the author of a book on the Working and Management of an English Railway (London, 1889), which contains a great deal of information, some of it not easily accessible to the general public, as to English railway practice about the year 1890.

FINDLAY, SIR GEORGE (1829-1893), an English railway manager, was of pure Scottish descent and was born in Rainhill, Lancashire, on May 18, 1829. He attended Halifax grammar school for a while but left at fourteen to learn practical masonry on the Halifax railway, where his father was employed. Two years later, he got a job at the Trent Valley railway works, and when that line was completed in 1847, he moved to London. There, he briefly worked with the team building locomotive sheds for the London & North-Western railway at Camden Town. Years later, after becoming the general manager of that railway, he was able to point out the stones he had shaped with his own hands. For the next two to three years, he worked in a higher capacity as a supervisor of the mining and brickwork of the Harecastle tunnel on the North Staffordshire line and the Walton tunnel on the Birkenhead, Lancashire & Cheshire Junction railway. In 1850, he was put in charge of constructing a section of the Shrewsbury & Hereford line, and when the line opened for traffic, T. Brassey, the contractor, decided to manage it himself and appointed him as manager. During his duties, he first established official relations with the London & North-Western railway, which had been tasked with operating the Newport, Abergavenny & Hereford line. He ultimately joined that company when, in 1862, it leased the railway he managed, alongside the Great Western. In 1864, he was transferred to Euston as general goods manager, and in 1872 he became chief traffic manager. By 1880, he was appointed full general manager, a position he held until his death on March 26, 1893, in Edgware, Middlesex. He was knighted in 1892. Sir George Findlay authored a book titled Working and Management of an English Railway (London, 1889), which includes a wealth of information, some of which was not readily available to the general public, regarding English railway practices around 1890.


FINDLAY, JOHN RITCHIE (1824-1898), Scottish newspaper owner and philanthropist, was born at Arbroath on the 21st of October 1824, and was educated at Edinburgh University. He entered first the publishing office and then the editorial department of the Scotsman, became a partner in the paper in 1868, and in 1870 inherited the greater part of the property from his great uncle, John Ritchie, the founder. The large increase in the influence and circulation of the paper was in a great measure due to his activity and direction, and it brought him a fortune, which he spent during his lifetime in public benefaction. He presented to the nation the Scottish National Portrait Gallery, opened in Edinburgh in 1889, and costing over £70,000; and he contributed largely to the collections of the Scottish National Gallery. He held numerous offices in antiquarian, educational and charitable societies, showing his keen interest in these matters, but he avoided political office and refused the offer of a baronetcy. The freedom of Edinburgh was given him in 1896. He died at Aberlour, Banffshire, on the 16th of October 1898.

FINDLAY, JOHN RITCHIE (1824-1898), Scottish newspaper owner and philanthropist, was born in Arbroath on October 21, 1824, and received his education at Edinburgh University. He first joined the publishing office and then moved to the editorial department of the Scotsman, becoming a partner in the paper in 1868. In 1870, he inherited most of the property from his great-uncle, John Ritchie, the founder. The significant growth in the paper's influence and circulation was largely due to his efforts and leadership, which earned him a fortune that he spent on public good throughout his lifetime. He donated the Scottish National Portrait Gallery to the nation, which opened in Edinburgh in 1889, costing over £70,000, and he made substantial contributions to the Scottish National Gallery's collections. He held several positions in antiquarian, educational, and charitable organizations, reflecting his strong interest in these areas, but he steered clear of political roles and declined the offer of a baronetcy. He was granted the freedom of Edinburgh in 1896. He passed away in Aberlour, Banffshire, on October 16, 1898.


FINDLAY, a city and the county-seat of Hancock county, Ohio, U.S.A., on Blanchard’s Fork of the Auglaize river, about 42 m. S. by W. of Toledo. Pop. (1890) 18,553; (1900) 17,613, (1051 foreign-born); (1910) 14,858. It is served by the Cleveland, Cincinnati, Chicago & St Louis, the Cincinnati, Hamilton & Dayton, the Lake Erie & Western, and the Ohio Central railways, and by three interurban electric railways. Findlay lies about 780 ft. above sea-level on gently rolling ground. The city is the seat of Findlay College (co-educational), an institution of the Church of God, chartered in 1882 and opened in 1886; it has collegiate, preparatory, normal, commercial and theological departments, a school of expression, and a conservatory of music, and in 1907 had 588 students, the majority of whom were in the conservatory of music. Findlay is the centre of the Ohio natural gas and oil region, and lime and building stone 355 abound in the vicinity. Among manufactures are refined petroleum, flour and grist-mill products, glass, boilers, bricks, tile, pottery, bridges, ditching machines, carriages and furniture. The total value of the factory product in 1905 was $2,925,309, an increase of 73.6% since 1900. The municipality owns and operates the water-works. Findlay was laid out as a town in 1821, was incorporated as a village in 1838, and was chartered as a city in 1890. The city was named in honour of Colonel James Findlay (c. 1775-1835), who built a fort here during the war of 1812; he served in this war under General William Hull, and from 1825 to 1833 was a Democratic representative in Congress.

FINDLAY, is a city and the county seat of Hancock County, Ohio, U.S.A., located on Blanchard’s Fork of the Auglaize River, about 42 miles south-west of Toledo. Population: (1890) 18,553; (1900) 17,613 (1,051 foreign-born); (1910) 14,858. It is served by the Cleveland, Cincinnati, Chicago & St. Louis, the Cincinnati, Hamilton & Dayton, the Lake Erie & Western, and the Ohio Central railways, as well as three interurban electric railways. Findlay is situated about 780 feet above sea level on gently rolling terrain. The city is home to Findlay College (co-educational), an institution affiliated with the Church of God, which was chartered in 1882 and opened in 1886; it offers collegiate, preparatory, normal, commercial, and theological programs, a school of expression, and a conservatory of music, boasting 588 students in 1907, most of whom were in the conservatory of music. Findlay is the center of Ohio's natural gas and oil region, and lime and building stone are plentiful in the area. Key manufactured products include refined petroleum, flour and grist-mill products, glass, boilers, bricks, tile, pottery, bridges, ditching machines, carriages, and furniture. The total value of factory products in 1905 was $2,925,309, marking a 73.6% increase since 1900. The municipality owns and operates the waterworks. Findlay was established as a town in 1821, incorporated as a village in 1838, and chartered as a city in 1890. The city was named after Colonel James Findlay (c. 1775-1835), who built a fort here during the War of 1812; he served in that war under General William Hull and was a Democratic representative in Congress from 1825 to 1833.


FINE, a word which in all its senses goes back to the Lat. finire, to bring to an end (finis). Thus in the common adjectival meanings of elegant, thin, subtle, excellent, reduced in size, &c., it is in origin equivalent to “finished.” In the various substantival meanings in law, with which this article deals, the common idea underlying them is an end or final settlement of a matter.

FINE, a word that in all its meanings traces back to the Latin finire, meaning to bring to an end (finis). So, in its common uses as an adjective like elegant, thin, subtle, excellent, reduced in size, etc., it basically means “finished.” In the different legal meanings that this article addresses, the central idea is an end or final resolution of a matter.

A fine, in the ordinary sense, is a pecuniary penalty inflicted for the less serious offences. Fines are necessarily discretionary as to amount; but a maximum is generally fixed when the penalty is imposed by statute. And it is an old constitutional maxim that fines must not be unreasonable. In Magna Carta, c. 111, it is ordained “Liber homo non amercietur pro parvo delicto nisi secundum modum ipsius delicti, et pro magno delicto secundum magnitudinem delicti.

A fine, in the usual sense, is a monetary penalty given for less serious offenses. Fines are typically decided based on discretion, but a maximum amount is usually set when the penalty is defined by law. It's an old constitutional principle that fines should not be excessive. In the Magna Carta, c. 111, it states “A free man shall not be amerced for a minor offense except according to the severity of the offense, and for a serious offense according to its magnitude.

The term is also applied to payments made to the lord of a manor on the alienation of land held according to the custom of the manor, to payments made by a lessee on a renewal of a lease, and to other similar payments.

The term is also used for payments made to the lord of a manor when land is sold according to the manor's customs, payments made by a tenant when renewing a lease, and other similar payments.

Fine also denotes a fictitious suit at law, which played the part of a conveyance of landed property. “A fine,” says Blackstone, “may be described to be an amicable composition or agreement of a suit, either actual or fictitious, by leave of the king or his justices, whereby the lands in question become or are acknowledged to be the right of one of the parties. In its original it was founded on an actual suit commenced at law for the recovery of the possession of land or other hereditaments; and the possession thus gained by such composition was found to be so sure and effectual that fictitious actions were and continue to be every day commenced for the sake of obtaining the same security.” Freehold estates could thus be transferred from one person to another without the formal delivery of possession which was generally necessary to a feoffment. This is one of the oldest devices of the law. A statute of 18 Edward I. describes it as the most solemn and satisfactory of securities, and gives a reason for its name—“Qui quidem finis sic vocatur, eo quod finis et consummatio omnium placitorum esse debet, et hac de causa providebatur.” The action was supposed to be founded on a breach of covenant: the defendant, owning himself in the wrong,1 makes overtures of compromise, which are authorized by the licentia concordandi; then followed the concord, or the compromise itself. These, then were the essential parts of the performance, which became efficient as soon as they were complete; the formal parts were the notes, or abstract of the proceedings, and the foot of the fine, which recited the final agreement. Fines were said to be of four kinds, according to the purpose they had in view, as, for instance, to convey lands in pursuance of a covenant, to grant revisionary interest only, &c. In addition to the formal record of the proceedings, various statutes required other solemnities to be observed, the great object of which was to give publicity to the transaction. Thus by statutes of Richard III. and Henry VII. the fine had to be openly read and proclaimed in court no less than sixteen times. A statute of Elizabeth required a list of fines to be exposed in the court of common pleas and at assizes. The reason for these formalities was the high and important nature of the conveyance, which, according to the act of Edward I. above mentioned, “precludes not only those which are parties and privies to the fine and their heirs, but all other persons in the world who are of full age, out of prison, of sound memory, and within the four seas, the day of the fine levied, unless they put in their claim on the foot of the fine within a year and a day.” This barring by non-claim was abolished in the reign of Edward III., but restored with an extension of the time to five years in the reign of Henry VII. The effect of this statute, intentional according to Blackstone, unintended and brought about by judicial construction according to others, was that a tenant-in-tail could bar his issue by a fine. A statute of Henry VIII. expressly declares this to be the law. Fines, along with the kindred fiction of recoveries, were abolished by the Fines and Recoveries Act 1833, which substituted a deed enrolled in the court of chancery.

Fine also refers to a fake lawsuit that served as a way to transfer ownership of land. "A fine," Blackstone says, "can be described as a friendly settlement or agreement of a lawsuit, real or fake, approved by the king or his judges, where the lands in question become or are recognized as belonging to one of the parties. It originally stemmed from a real lawsuit started to regain possession of land or other properties; the possession obtained through such a settlement was deemed so secure and effective that fake lawsuits were and still are commonly raised to achieve the same level of security." Freehold estates could thus be transferred from one person to another without the formal transfer of possession that was usually required in a feoffment. This is one of the oldest legal mechanisms. A statute from the reign of Edward I describes it as the most formal and reliable type of security, explaining its name—"Qui quidem finis sic vocatur, eo quod finis et consummatio omnium placitorum esse debet, et hac de causa providebatur." The action was assumed to be based on a breach of agreement: the defendant, admitting fault, makes proposals for settlement, which are sanctioned by the licentia concordandi; then the concord, or the settlement itself, follows. These were the fundamental elements of the execution, which became effective as soon as they were completed; the formal elements were the notes, or summary of the proceedings, and the foot of the fine, summarizing the final agreement. Fines were classified into four types based on their purpose, such as to transfer land according to an agreement, to grant only a future interest, etc. In addition to the official record of the proceedings, various statutes mandated that other formalities be observed, primarily to publicize the transaction. For instance, statutes from Richard III and Henry VII required the fine to be publicly read and announced in court at least sixteen times. A statute from Elizabeth mandated that a list of fines be displayed in the court of common pleas and at assizes. These formalities were necessary due to the significant nature of the conveyance, which, according to the act from Edward I, “precludes not only those who are parties and connected to the fine and their heirs, but all other individuals in the world who are of legal age, not imprisoned, of sound mind, and within the four seas, on the day the fine was imposed, unless they enter their claim on the foot of the fine within a year and a day.” This barring by non-claim was abolished during the reign of Edward III but was reinstated with an extended time of five years during Henry VII's reign. According to Blackstone, the effect of this statute was intentional, while others consider it an unintended consequence of judicial interpretation, which allowed a tenant-in-tail to block his heirs by using a fine. A statute from Henry VIII explicitly states that this is the law. Fines, together with the related fiction of recoveries, were eliminated by the Fines and Recoveries Act of 1833, which replaced them with a deed recorded in the court of chancery.

Fines are so generally associated in legal phraseology with recoveries that it may not be inconvenient to describe the latter in the present place. A recovery was employed as a means for evading the strict law of entail. The purchaser or alienee brought an action against the tenant-in-tail, alleging that he had no legal title to the land. The tenant-in-tail brought a third person into court, declaring that he had warranted his title, and praying that he might be ordered to defend the action. This person was called the vouchee, and he, after having appeared to defend the action, takes himself out of the way. Judgment for the lands is given in favour of the plaintiff; and judgment to recover lands of equal value from the vouchee was given to the defendant, the tenant-in-tail. In real action, such lands when recovered would have fallen under the settlement of entail; but in the fictitious recovery the vouchee was a man of straw, and nothing was really recovered from him, while the lands of the tenant-in-tail were effectually conveyed to the successful plaintiff. A recovery differed from a fine, as to form, in being an action carried through to the end, while a fine was settled by compromise, and as to effect, by barring all reversions and remainders in estates tail, while a fine barred the issue only of the tenant. (See also Ejectment; Proclamation.)

Fines are commonly linked in legal terms to recoveries, so it makes sense to explain recoveries here. A recovery was used as a way to get around the strict laws of entail. The buyer or recipient would file a lawsuit against the tenant-in-tail, claiming they had no legal title to the land. The tenant-in-tail would then bring a third party into the court, stating that he had guaranteed his title and asking to be allowed to defend against the lawsuit. This third party was known as the vouchee, and after appearing to defend the case, he would step aside. The court would then rule in favor of the plaintiff concerning the land; meanwhile, a judgment for the recovery of land of equal value from the vouchee was also given to the tenant-in-tail, the defendant. In a real action, any lands recovered would have been bound by the settlement of entail; however, in this fictitious recovery, the vouchee was not a real party, and nothing was actually reclaimed from him, while the tenant-in-tail's lands were effectively transferred to the winning plaintiff. A recovery differed from a fine in form, as it was a legal action that proceeded to completion, while a fine was settled through compromise, and in terms of effect, a recovery barred all reversions and remainders in estates tail, while a fine only barred the tenant's heirs. (See also Ejectment; Proclamation.)


1 Hence called cognizor; the other party, the purchaser, is the cognizee.

1 So the one is called cognizor; the other party, the buyer, is the cognizee.


FINE ARTS, the name given to a whole group of human activities, which have for their result what is collectively known as Fine Art. The arts which constitute the group are the five greater arts of architecture, sculpture, painting, music and poetry, with a number of minor or subsidiary arts, of which dancing and the drama are among the most ancient and universal. In antiquity the fine arts were not explicitly named, nor even distinctly recognized, as a separate class. In other modern languages besides English they are called by the equivalent name of the beautiful arts (belle arti, beaux arts, schöne Künste). The fine or beautiful arts then, it is usually said, are those among the arts of man which minister, not primarily to his material necessities or conveniences, but to his love of beauty; and if any art fulfils both these purposes at once, still as fulfilling the latter only is it called a fine art. Thus architecture, in so far as it provides shelter and accommodation, is one of the useful or mechanical arts, and one of the fine arts only in so far as its structures impress or give pleasure by the aspect of strength, fitness, harmony and proportion of parts, by disposition and contrast of light and shade, by colour and enrichment, by variety and relation of contours, surfaces and intervals. But this, the commonly accepted account of the matter, does not really cover the ground. The idea conveyed by the words “love of beauty,” even stretched to its widest, can hardly be made to include the love of caricature and the grotesque; and these are admittedly modes of fine art. Even the terrible, the painful, the squalid, the degraded, in a word every variety of the significant, can be so handled and interpreted as to be brought within the province of fine art. A juster and more inclusive, although clumsier, account of the matter might put it that the fine arts are those among the arts of man which spring from his impulse to do or make certain things in certain ways for the sake, first, of a special kind of pleasure, independent of direct utility, which it gives him so to do or make them, and next for the sake of the kindred pleasure which he derives from witnessing or contemplating them when they are so done or made by others.

FINE ARTS, is the term used for a whole range of human activities that result in what we collectively call Fine Art. The arts included in this group are the five major arts: architecture, sculpture, painting, music, and poetry, along with several minor or subsidiary arts, with dance and drama being some of the oldest and most universal. In ancient times, fine arts weren't clearly named or recognized as a separate category. In other modern languages besides English, they’re referred to as the equivalent of the beautiful arts (belle arti, beaux arts, schöne Künste). Therefore, fine or beautiful arts are generally considered those human arts that cater not primarily to material needs or conveniences but to the appreciation of beauty. If any art serves both purposes at once, it’s still regarded as a fine art only when it fulfills the latter. For example, architecture is seen as a useful or mechanical art when it provides shelter and accommodation, but it becomes a fine art only when its structures evoke pleasure through their strength, form, harmony, and proportion, as well as through the use of light and shadow, color, embellishment, and the interplay of contours, surfaces, and spaces. However, this commonly accepted definition doesn’t fully capture everything. The phrase “love of beauty,” even at its broadest, can't really encompass the appreciation for caricature or the grotesque; and these are certainly forms of fine art. Even themes that are terrible, painful, squalid, or degraded—essentially any significant variation—can be expressed in ways that incorporate them into fine art. A more accurate but less elegant description might be that the fine arts are those human arts that arise from the urge to create certain things in specific ways for the sake of a unique type of pleasure that’s independent of direct usefulness, and also for the related pleasure that comes from watching or contemplating these creations when made by others.

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The nature of this impulse, and the several grounds of these pleasures, are subjects which have given rise to a formidable body of speculation and discussion, the chief phases of which will be found summarized under the heading Aesthetics. In the present article we have only to attend to the concrete processes and results of the artistic activities of man; in other words, we shall submit (1) a definition of fine art in general, (2) a definition and classification of the principal fine arts severally, (3) some observations on their historical development.

The nature of this impulse and the various reasons for these pleasures are topics that have sparked a significant amount of discussion and speculation, the main aspects of which can be found summarized under the heading Aesthetics. In this article, we will focus on the concrete processes and outcomes of human artistic activities; in other words, we will provide (1) a definition of fine art in general, (2) a definition and classification of the main fine arts individually, and (3) some observations on their historical development.

I. Of Fine Art in General.

I. On Fine Art in General.

According to the popular and established distinction between art and nature, the idea of Art (q.v.) only includes phenomena of which man is deliberately the cause; while the idea of Nature includes all phenomena, both in man Premeditation essential to art. and in the world outside him, which take place without forethought or studied initiative of his own. Art, accordingly, means every regulated operation or dexterity whereby we pursue ends which we know beforehand; and it means nothing but such operations and dexterities. What is true of art generally is of course also true of the special group of the fine arts. One of the essential qualities of all art is premeditation; and when Shelley talks of the skylark’s profuse strains of “unpremeditated art,” he in effect lays emphasis on the fact that it is only by a metaphor that he uses the word art in this case at all; he calls attention to that which (if the songs of birds are as instinctive as we suppose) precisely makes the difference between the skylark’s outpourings and his own. We are slow to allow the title of fine art to natural eloquence, to charm or dignity of manner, to delicacy and tact in social intercourse, and other such graces of life and conduct, since, although in any given case they may have been deliberately cultivated in early life, or even through ancestral generations, they do not produce their full effect until they are so ingrained as to have become unreflecting and spontaneous. When the exigencies of a philosophic scheme lead some writers on aesthetics to include such acts or traits of beautiful and expressive behaviour among the deliberate artistic activities of mankind, we feel that an essential distinction is being sacrificed to the exigencies of a system. That distinction common parlance very justly observes, with its opposition of “art” to “nature” and its phrase of “second nature” for those graces which have become so habitual as to seem instinctive, whether originally the result of discipline or not. When we see a person in all whose ordinary movements there are freedom and beauty, we put down the charm of these with good reason to inherited and inbred aptitudes of which the person has never thought or long since ceased to think, and could not still be thinking without spoiling the charm by self-consciousness; and we call the result a gift of nature. But when we go on to notice that the same person is beautifully and appropriately dressed, since we know that it is impossible to dress without thinking of it, we put down the charm of this to judicious forethought and calculation and call the result a work of art.

According to the well-known distinction between art and nature, the concept of Art (q.v.) only includes things that people intentionally create, while the concept of Nature includes everything—both in humans and in the world around them—that happens without any thought or conscious effort. Art, therefore, refers to every organized action or skill through which we aim for specific outcomes that we know in advance; it solely encompasses these kinds of actions and skills. What applies to art in general also applies to the specific category of fine arts. A key feature of all art is that it involves intention; when Shelley speaks of the skylark's abundant strains of "unpremeditated art," he's basically highlighting that he’s using the word art metaphorically here. He points out that, if we believe birds sing instinctively, it’s this instinctive nature that differentiates the skylark's songs from human creations. We are reluctant to classify natural eloquence, grace in manner, or finesse in social interactions as fine art, because, although they may have been intentionally developed over time, they only have their full impact once they are so ingrained that they become instinctively natural. When some aesthetic philosophers include these acts or traits of beautiful behavior among the intentional artistic efforts of humans, it feels like a crucial distinction is being compromised for the sake of a philosophical framework. This distinction is rightly observed in everyday language, which contrasts “art” with “nature” and uses the term “second nature” for those qualities that have become so habitual that they seem instinctive, regardless of whether they were originally developed through learning or not. When we see someone whose ordinary movements exhibit freedom and beauty, we attribute that charm to inherent traits that the person hasn’t thought about, or hasn’t thought about for a long time, and they could not still be contemplating without losing the charm through self-consciousness; we label this a gift of nature. However, when we notice that the same individual is dressed elegantly and appropriately, we recognize that dressing requires thought. Thus, we credit the appeal of this to careful planning and call it a work of art.

The processes then of fine art, like those of all arts properly so called, are premeditated, and the property of every fine art is to give to the person exercising it a special kind of active pleasure, and a special kind of passive or The active and the passive pleasures of fine art. receptive pleasure to the person witnessing the results of such exercise. This latter statement seems to imply that there exist in human societies a separate class producing works of fine art and another class enjoying them. Such an implication, in regard to advanced societies, is near enough the truth to be theoretically admitted (like the analogous assumption in political economy that there exist separate classes of producers and consumers). In developed communities the gifts and calling of the artist constitute in fact a separate profession of the creators or purveyors of fine art, while the rest of the community are its enjoyers or recipients. In the most primitive societies, apparently, this cannot have been so, and we can go back to an original or rudimentary stage of almost every fine art at which the separation between a class of producers or performers and a class of recipients hardly exists. Such an original or rudimentary stage of the dramatic art is presented by children, who will occupy themselves for ever with mimicry and make-believe for their own satisfaction, with small regard or none to the presence or absence of witnesses. The original or rudimentary type of the profession of imitative sculptors or painters is the cave-dweller of prehistoric ages, who, when he rested from his day’s hunting, first took up the bone handle of his weapon, and with a flint either carved it into the shape, or on its surface scratched the outlines, of the animals of the chase. The original or rudimentary type of the architect, considered not as a mere builder but as an artist, is the savage who, when his tribe had taken to live in tents or huts instead of caves, first arranged the skins and timbers of his tent or hut in one way because it pleased his eye, rather than in some other way which was as good for shelter. The original type of the artificer or adorner of implements, considered in the same light, was the other savage who first took it into his head to fashion his club or spear in one way rather than another for the pleasure of the eye only and not for any practical reason, and to ornament it with tufts or markings. In none of these cases, it would seem, can the primitive artist have had much reason for pleasing anybody but himself. Again, the original or rudimentary type of lyric song and dancing arose when the first reveller clapped hands and stamped or shouted in time, in honour of his god, in commemoration of a victory, or in mere obedience to the blind stirring of a rhythmic impulse within him. To some very remote and solitary ancestral savage the presence or absence of witnesses at such a display may in like manner have been indifferent; but very early in the history of the race the primitive dancer and singer joined hands and voices with others of his tribe, while others again sat apart and looked on at the performance, and the rite thus became both choral and social. A primitive type of the instrumental musician is the shepherd who first notched a reed and drew sounds from it while his sheep were cropping. The father of all artists in dress and personal adornment was the first wild man who tattooed himself or bedecked himself with shells and plumes. In both of these latter instances, it may be taken as certain, the primitive artist had the motive of pleasing not himself only, but his mate, or the female whom he desired to be his mate, and in the last instance of all the further motive of impressing his fellow-tribesmen and striking awe or envy into his enemies. The tendency of recent speculation and research concerning the origins of art has been to ascribe the primitive artistic activities of man less and less to individual and solitary impulse, and more and more to social impulse and the desire of sharing and communicating pleasure. (The writer who has gone furthest in developing this view, and on grounds of the most careful study of evidence, has been Dr Yrjö Hirn of Helsingfors.) Whatever relative parts the individual and the social impulses may have in fact played at the outset, it is clear that what any one can enjoy or admire by himself, whether in the way of mimicry, of rhythmical movements or utterances, of imitative or ornamental carving and drawing, of the disposition and adornment of dwelling-places and utensils—the same things, it is clear, others are able also to enjoy or admire with him. And so, with the growth of societies, it came about that one class of persons separated themselves and became the ministers or producers of this kind of pleasures, while the rest became the persons ministered to, the participators in or recipients of the pleasures. Artists are those members of a society who are so constituted as to feel more acutely than the rest certain classes of pleasures which all can feel in their degree. By this fact of their constitution they are impelled to devote their active powers to the production of such pleasures, to the making or doing of some of those things which they enjoy so keenly when they are made and done by others. At the same time the artist does not, by assuming these ministering or creative functions, surrender his enjoying or receptive functions. He continues to participate in the pleasures of which he is himself the cause, and remains a conscious member of his own public. The architect, sculptor, painter, are able respectively 357 to stand off from and appreciate the results of their own labours; the singer enjoys the sound of his own voice, and the musician of his own instrument; the poet, according to his temperament, furnishes the most enthusiastic or the most fastidious reader for his own stanzas. Neither, on the other hand, does the person who is a habitual recipient from others of the pleasures of fine art forfeit the privilege of producing them according to his capabilities, and of becoming, if he has the power, an amateur or occasional artist.

The processes of fine art, like all true arts, are intentional, and the essence of every fine art is to provide those who practice it a unique type of active pleasure, as well as a distinct type of passive or receptive pleasure to those witnessing the results of that practice. This implies that in human societies, there exists a separate group producing fine art and another group enjoying it. This notion, especially in advanced societies, is close enough to reality to be considered true (similar to the idea in political economy that there are separate classes of producers and consumers). In developed communities, the talents and roles of artists form a distinct profession for those who create or provide fine art, while the rest of the community are its enjoyers or recipients. In more primitive societies, this separation likely did not exist, and we can trace most fine arts back to a basic or early stage where the line between producers or performers and recipients was blurred. A primary or basic form of dramatic art can be seen in children, who will engage in imitation and make-believe purely for their enjoyment, paying little attention to whether anyone is watching. The original form of imitative sculptors or painters is represented by prehistoric cave dwellers, who, after a day of hunting, would carve or scratch images of animals onto their tool handles. The earliest architect, viewed not just as a builder but as an artist, is the primitive person who arranged their tent's skins and timbers in a way that was visually pleasing rather than purely practical. The primary type of artisan who embellished tools is the other primitive person who first decorated their club or spear purely for aesthetic reasons, adding tufts or markings. In these cases, it seems the primitive artist had little motivation to please anyone but themselves. Additionally, the basic forms of song and dance emerged when the first celebrant clapped their hands and moved in rhythm to honor their deity, celebrate a victory, or simply give in to an inner rhythmic impulse. For some distant ancestral savage, the presence or absence of observers at these displays may have been irrelevant; however, early on in human history, the primitive dancer and singer began to collaborate with others from their tribe, while some sat apart, watching the performance, thus making the activity both communal and social. A primitive type of instrumental musician can be seen in a shepherd who first notched a reed and created music while tending to their sheep. The first artist in clothing and personal decoration was likely the first wild person to tattoo themselves or adorn themselves with shells and feathers. In both instances, it's likely that the primitive artist aimed to please not only themselves but also their partner or the mate they desired, adding the goal of impressing fellow tribesmen and inspiring awe or envy in their enemies. More recent inquiries and theories about the origins of art suggest that primitive artistic activities stem less from individual impulses and more from social impulses, driven by a desire to share and communicate pleasure. (Dr. Yrjö Hirn of Helsingfors has developed this idea the furthest, based on extensive evidence.) Regardless of the roles individual and social impulses may have played at the very beginning, it's clear that whatever someone can enjoy or admire alone—be it in imitation, rhythmic movements, drawing, or decorating spaces and utensils—others can also enjoy or admire alongside them. Thus, as societies evolved, one group of people distanced themselves to become the providers of these pleasures, while the others became the recipients. Artists are those in society who experience certain types of pleasure more intensely than most, prompting them to dedicate their talents to creating these pleasures, making the things they enjoy so much when created by others. However, by engaging in these creative roles, artists do not relinquish their ability to enjoy and appreciate; they continue to be part of the pleasures they help create, remaining aware members of their audience. Architects, sculptors, and painters can reflect on and appreciate the results of their work; singers enjoy their own voices, and musicians cherish their instruments; poets, depending on their nature, provide either passionate or discerning readers for their stanzas. Conversely, those who frequently enjoy the fine art provided by others do not lose the opportunity to create art themselves, depending on their abilities, and can become, if they choose, amateur or occasional artists.

Most of the common properties which have been recognized by consent as peculiar to the group of fine arts will be found on examination to be implied in, or deducible from, the one fundamental character generally claimed for Pleasures of fine art disinterested. them, namely, that they exist independently of direct practical necessity or utility. Let us take, first, a point relating to the frame of mind of the recipient, as distinguished from the producer, of the pleasures of fine art. It is an observation as old as Aristotle that such pleasures differ from most other pleasures of experience in that they are disinterested, in the sense that they are not such as nourish a man’s body nor add to his riches; they are not such as can gratify him, when he receives them, by the sense of advantage or superiority over his fellow-creatures; they are not such as one human being can in any sense receive exclusively from the object which bestows them. Thus it is evidently characteristic of a beautiful building that its beauty cannot be monopolized, but can be seen and admired by the inhabitants of a whole city and by all visitors for all generations. The same thing is true of a picture or a statue, except in so far as an individual possessor may choose to keep such a possession to himself, in which case his pride in exclusive ownership is a sentiment wholly independent of his pleasure in artistic contemplation. Similarly, music is composed to be sung or played for the enjoyment of many at a time, and for such enjoyment a hundred years hence as much as to-day. Poetry is written to be read by all readers for ever who care for the ideas and feelings of the poet, and can apprehend the meaning and melody of his language. Hence, though we can speak of a class of the producers of fine art, we cannot speak of a class of its consumers, only of its recipients or enjoyers. If we consider other pleasures which might seem to be analogous to those of fine art, but to which common consent yet declines to allow that character, we shall see that one reason is that such pleasures are not in their nature thus disinterested. Thus the sense of smell and taste have pleasures of their own like the senses of sight and hearing, and pleasures neither less poignant nor very much less capable of fine graduation and discrimination than those. Why, then, is the title of fine art not claimed for any skill in arranging and combining them? Why are there no recognized arts of savours and scents corresponding in rank to the arts of forms, colours and sounds—or at least none among Western nations, for in Japan, it seems, there is a recognized and finely regulated social art of the combination and succession of perfumes? An answer commonly given is that sight and hearing are intellectual and therefore higher senses, that through them we have our avenues to all knowledge and all ideas of things outside us; while taste and smell are unintellectual and therefore lower senses, through which few such impressions find their way to us as help to build up our knowledge and our ideas. Perhaps a more satisfactory reason why there are no fine arts of taste and smell—or let us in deference to Japanese modes leave out smell, and say of taste only—is this, that savours yield only private pleasures, which it is not possible to build up into separate and durable schemes such that every one may have the benefit of them, and such as cannot be monopolized or used up. If against this it is contended that what the programme of a performance is in the musical art, the same is a menu in the culinary, and that practically it is no less possible to serve up a thousand times and to a thousand different companies the same dinner than the same symphony, we must fall back upon that still more fundamental form of the distinction between the aesthetic and non-aesthetic bodily senses, upon which the physiological psychologists of the English school lay stress. We must say that the pleasures of taste cannot be pleasures of fine art, because their enjoyment is too closely associated with the most indispensable and the most strictly personal of utilities, eating and drinking. To pass from these lower pleasures to the highest; consider the nature of the delight derived from the contemplation, by the person who is their object, of the signs and manifestations of love. That at least is a beautiful experience; why is the pleasure which it affords not an artistic pleasure either? Why, in order to receive an artistic pleasure from human signs and manifestations of this kind, are we compelled to go to the theatre and see them exhibited in favour of a third person who is not really their object any more than ourselves? This is so, for one reason, evidently, because of the difference between art and nature. Not to art, but to nature and life, belongs love where it is really felt, with its attendant train of vivid hopes, fears, passions and contingencies. To art belongs love displayed where it is not really felt; and in this sphere, along with reality and spontaneousness of the display, and along with its momentous bearings, there disappear all those elements of pleasure in its contemplation which are not disinterested—the elements of personal exultation and self-congratulation, the pride of exclusive possession or acceptance, all these emotions, in short, which are summed up in the lover’s triumphant monosyllable, “Mine.” Thus, from the lowest point of the scale to the highest, we may observe that the element of personal advantage or monopoly in human gratifications seems to exclude, them from the kingdom of fine art. The pleasures of fine art, so far as concerns their passive or receptive part, seem to define themselves as pleasures of gratified contemplation, but of such contemplation only when it is disinterested—which is simply another way of saying, when it is unconcerned with ideas of utility.

Most of the common characteristics that have been widely recognized as specific to fine arts can be found upon closer inspection to be implied in, or derived from, the one fundamental trait generally attributed to them, which is that they exist independently of immediate practical necessity or usefulness. Let’s first look at how the person experiencing the pleasures of fine art differs from the creator. It’s been noted since Aristotle that these pleasures are different from most others we experience in that they are disinterested; they don’t nourish a person’s body or increase their wealth. They don’t provide a sense of advantage or superiority over others when someone enjoys them. No one can solely benefit from the object that gives them pleasure. Take a beautiful building, for example; its beauty isn’t exclusive to one person but can be appreciated by the entire city and all visitors through generations. The same applies to a painting or a sculpture, except in cases where an individual chooses to keep it to themselves; in that situation, their pride in ownership is separate from any pleasure they get from appreciating the art. Similarly, music is made to be performed or played for the enjoyment of many, both now and a hundred years from now. Poetry is written for all readers who are interested in the poet's ideas and feelings and can grasp the meaning and rhythm of the language. Therefore, while we can talk about a group of fine art producers, we can only refer to its users as recipients or enjoyers. If we consider other pleasures that might seem similar to those of fine art, but that people generally don’t define as such, we’ll see that one reason is that those pleasures aren’t inherently disinterested. Smell and taste have their own pleasures, similar to sight and hearing, which can be just as intense and finely nuanced. So why isn’t the title of fine art applied to skills in arranging and combining these? Why aren’t there recognized arts of scents and flavors equivalent to those of forms, colors, and sounds—at least in Western cultures? In Japan, however, there appears to be a recognized and sophisticated social art related to the combination and sequence of fragrances. A common explanation for this is that sight and hearing are intellectual and therefore regarded as higher senses, providing us with pathways to knowledge and ideas about the world. On the other hand, taste and smell are considered less intellectual and thus lower senses, through which fewer impressions contribute to our understanding and concepts. Perhaps a better reason why there are no fine arts related to taste—or let’s set aside smell in respect to Japanese customs and just focus on taste—is that flavors provide only private pleasures that can’t be structured into shared and lasting experiences that everyone can enjoy and that can’t be monopolized or consumed. If someone argues that what a program is to musical art, a menu is to culinary art, and that it's just as feasible to serve the same dinner to countless different groups as it is to perform the same symphony, we still need to rely on a more fundamental distinction between aesthetic and non-aesthetic bodily senses that English physiological psychologists emphasize. We have to say that pleasures of taste can’t qualify as fine art because they’re too closely tied to the most essential and personalized utilities of eating and drinking. Moving from these lower pleasures to the highest; consider the joy experienced when the person who is the object perceives declarations and displays of love. That is certainly a beautiful experience; so why isn’t the pleasure it brings considered artistic? Why must we go to the theater to experience artistic pleasure from human displays of love, which aren’t truly directed toward a third party any more than they are toward ourselves? This is the case, primarily, due to the difference between art and nature. Love, as it is genuinely felt—with all its vivid hopes, fears, passions, and uncertainties—belongs to nature and life, not to art. In contrast, art portrays love where it isn’t actually felt; and within this realm, along with the authenticity and spontaneity of that portrayal, the emotional aspects of pleasure in its contemplation that aren’t disinterested—like personal pride and the joy of exclusive possession—disappear. All those emotions summed up in the lover’s triumphant word, “Mine.” Thus, from the lowest to the highest levels of pleasure, it appears that elements of personal advantage or exclusivity in human experiences seem to exclude them from the realm of fine art. The pleasures of fine art, regarding their passive or receptive aspect, seem to define themselves as pleasures derived from disinterested contemplation—essentially meaning when they’re not concerned with utility.

Modern speculation has tended in some degree to modify and obscure this old and established view of the pleasures of fine art by urging that the hearer or spectator is not after all so free from self-interest as he seems; that in the An objection and its answer. act of artistic contemplation he experiences an enhancement or expansion of his being which is in truth a gain of the egoistic kind; that in witnessing a play, for instance, a large part of his enjoyment consists in sympathetically identifying himself with the successful lover or the virtuous hero. All this may be true, but does not really affect the argument, since at the same time he is well aware that every other spectator or auditor present may be similarly engaged with himself. At most the objection only requires us to define a little more closely, and to say that the satisfactions of the ego excluded from among the pleasures of fine art are not these ideal, sympathetic, indirect satisfactions, which every one can share together, but only those which arise from direct, private and incommunicable advantage to the individual.

Modern speculation has somewhat modified and blurred this long-standing view of the pleasures of fine art by suggesting that the listener or viewer isn’t as free from self-interest as they seem. In the act of experiencing art, they feel an enhancement or expansion of their being, which is actually a gain of a self-centered kind. For example, when watching a play, a large part of their enjoyment comes from empathizing with the successful lover or the virtuous hero. While this may be true, it doesn't really change the argument since they know that every other spectator or listener present might be engaging in the same way. At most, this concern requires us to clarify that the ego-based satisfactions excluded from the pleasures of fine art aren't those ideal, sympathetic, shared satisfactions everyone can enjoy together, but only those arising from direct, private, and unshareable benefits to the individual.

Next, let us consider another generally accepted observation concerning the nature of the fine arts, and one, this time, relating to the disposition and state of mind of the practising artist himself. While for success in other arts it is only Fine arts cannot be practised by rule and precept. necessary to learn their rules and to apply them until practice gives facility, in the fine arts, it is commonly and justly said, rules and their application will carry but a little way towards success. All that can depend on rules, on knowledge, and on the application of knowledge by practice, the artist must indeed acquire, and the acquisition is often very complicated and laborious. But outside of and beyond such acquisitions he must trust to what is called genius or imagination, that is, to the spontaneous working together of an incalculably complex group of faculties, reminiscences, preferences, emotions, instincts in his constitution. This characteristic of the activities of the artist is a direct consequence or corollary of the fundamental fact that the art he practices is independent of utility. A utilitarian end is necessarily a determinate and prescribed end, and to every end which is determinate and prescribed there must be one road which is the best. Skill in any useful art means knowing practically, by rules and the application of rules, the best road to the particular 358 ends of that art. Thus the farmer, the engineer, the carpenter, the builder so far as he is not concerned with the look of his buildings, the weaver so far as he is not concerned with the designing of the patterns which he weaves, possesses each his peculiar skill, but a skill to which fixed problems are set, and which, if it indulges in new inventions and combinations at all, can indulge them only for the sake of an improved solution of those particular problems. The solution once found, the invention once made, its rules can be written down, or at any rate its practice can be imparted to others who will apply it in their turn. Whereas no man can write down, in a way that others can act upon, how Beethoven conquered unknown kingdoms in the world of harmony, or how Rembrandt turned the aspects of gloom, squalor and affliction into pictures as worthy of contemplation as those into which the Italians before him had turned the aspects of spiritual exaltation and shadowless day. The reason why the operations of the artist thus differ from the operations of the ordinary craftsman or artificer is that his ends, being ends other than useful, are not determinate nor fixed as theirs are. He has large liberty to choose his own problems, and may solve each of them in a thousand different ways according to the prompting of his own ordering or creating instincts. The musical composer has the largest liberty of all. Having learned what is learnable in his art, having mastered the complicated and laborious rules of musical form, having next determined the particular class of the work which he is about to compose, he has then before him the whole inexhaustible world of appropriate successions and combinations of emotional sound. He is merely directed and not fettered, in the case of song, cantata, oratorio or opera, by the sense of the words which he has to set. The value of the result depends absolutely on his possessing or failing to possess powers which can neither be trained in nor communicated to any man. And this double freedom, alike from practical service and from the representation of definite objects, is what makes music in a certain sense the typical fine art, or art of arts. Architecture shares one-half of this freedom. It has not to copy or represent natural objects; for this service it calls in sculpture to its aid; but architecture is without the other half of freedom altogether. The architect has a sphere of liberty in the disposition of his masses, lines, colours, alternations of light and shadow, of plain and ornamented surface, and the rest; but upon this sphere he can only enter on condition that he at the same time fulfils the strict practical task of supplying the required accommodation, and obeys the strict mechanical necessities imposed by the laws of weight, thrust, support, resistance and other properties of solid matter. The sculptor again, the painter, the poet, has each in like manner his sphere of necessary facts, rules and conditions corresponding to the nature of his task. The sculptor must be intimately versed both in the surface aspects and the inner mechanism of the human frame alike in rest and motion, and in the rules and conditions for its representation in solid form; the painter in a much more extended range of natural facts and appearances, and the rules and conditions for representing them on a plane surface; the poet’s art of words has its own not inconsiderable basis of positive and disciplined acquisition. So far as rules, precepts, formulas and other communicable laws or secrets can carry the artist, so far also the spectator can account for, analyse, and, so to speak, tabulate the effects of his art. But the essential character of the artist’s operation, its very bloom and virtue, lies in those parts of it which fall outside this range of regulation on the one hand and analysis on the other. His merit varies according to the felicity with which he is able, in that region, to exercise his free choice and frame his individual ideal, and according to the tenacity with which he strives to grasp and realize his choice, or to attain perfection according to that ideal.

Next, let’s look at another widely recognized idea about the nature of the fine arts, specifically regarding the mindset and attitude of the practicing artist. While success in other arts mainly involves learning their rules and applying them until skill is developed, in the fine arts, it’s often said that understanding and applying rules will only get you so far. The artist must indeed acquire the knowledge and skills that can be defined by rules, which can often be complex and demanding. However, beyond these acquisitions, the artist must rely on what is called genius or imagination, which involves the spontaneous interaction of a vast and intricate set of faculties, memories, preferences, emotions, and instincts within themselves. This aspect of the artist's work directly results from the fundamental fact that their art is independent of practical utility. A utilitarian goal is necessarily specific and predetermined, and for every such goal, there must be one best path to follow. Proficiency in any practical art means knowing, through rules and their implementation, the best way to achieve the specific outcomes of that art. So, the farmer, engineer, carpenter, or builder—assuming they are not focused on aesthetics—along with the weaver, as long as they are not concerned with the design of the patterns they create, each possess their unique skills, but those skills are directed toward solving defined problems, and any innovations they explore are ultimately for better solutions to those problems. Once a solution is found or an invention is made, its rules can be recorded, or at least its practice can be passed on to others who will apply it as well. In contrast, no one can write down, in a way that others could follow, how Beethoven explored unknown territories in harmony, or how Rembrandt transformed themes of darkness, poverty, and suffering into works just as worthy of admiration as those that earlier Italians turned into representations of spiritual elevation and bright days. The reason the artist's methods differ from those of ordinary craftsmen is that their goals, being different from practical ones, are not fixed or specific like theirs. Artists have the freedom to choose their problems and can address each in countless ways according to their own creative impulses. The composer of music has the greatest freedom of all. After mastering what can be learned in their field and understanding the intricate, demanding rules of musical form, and after choosing the specific kind of work they’re going to create, they find themselves in the boundless realm of possible emotional sound sequences and combinations. They are guided, but not restricted, by the meaning of the lyrics they set for songs, cantatas, or operas. The value of the finished piece entirely depends on whether the composer has the innate abilities that cannot be taught or shared with others. This dual freedom—from practical functions and from the need to depict concrete objects—makes music in many ways the quintessential fine art, or the art of arts. Architecture has half of this freedom. It does not have to replicate or represent natural forms; for that, it incorporates sculpture, but architecture is entirely bound by the other half of freedom. Architects have some creative latitude in arranging masses, lines, colors, contrasts of light and dark, and textures; however, they must also meet the practical requirement of providing necessary spaces while adhering to the mechanical laws of weight, pressure, support, and the properties of solid materials. Similarly, sculptors, painters, and poets each possess their set of essential facts, rules, and conditions dictated by their craft. Sculptors must have a thorough understanding of the surface and internal structure of the human body in various states, and the rules for accurately representing it in solid form; painters must grasp a much broader range of natural phenomena and the techniques for depicting them on a flat canvas; and the poet’s use of language is built upon a significant foundation of structured learning. As far as rules, guidelines, formulas, and other teachable principles can assist the artist, so too can the audience analyze and break down the impacts of their art. Yet, the true essence of the artist's work—their unique quality and value—lies in those aspects beyond regulation on one side and analysis on the other. Their merit depends on how effectively they navigate that space to make free choices and create their individual vision, along with their commitment to understand and bring that vision to life, striving for perfection based on that ideal.

In this connexion the question naturally arises, In what way do the progress and expansion of mechanical art affect the power and province of fine art? The great practical movement of the world in our age is a movement for the development of Fine arts and machinery: “art manufactures.” mechanical inventions and multiplication of mechanical products. So far as these inventions are applied to purposes purely useful, and so far as their products to not profess to offer anything delightful to contemplation, this movement in no way concerns our argument. But there is a vast multitude of products which do profess qualities of pleasantness, and upon which the ornaments intended to make them pleasurable are bestowed by machinery; and in speaking of these we are accustomed to the phrases art-industry, industrial art, art manufactures and the like. In these cases the industry or ingenuity which directs the machine is not fine art at all, since the object of the machine is simply to multiply as easily and as perfectly as possible a definite and prescribed impress or pattern. This is equally true whether the machine is a simple one, like the engraver’s press, for producing and multiplying impressions from an engraved plate, or a highly complex one, like the loom, in which elaborate patterns of carpet or curtain are set for weaving. In both cases there exists behind the mechanical industry an industry which is one of fine art in its degree. In the case of the engraver’s press, there exists behind the industry of the printer the art of the engraver, which, if the engraver is also the free inventor of the design, is then a fine art, or, if he is but the interpreter of the invention of another, is then in its turn a semi-mechanical skill applied in aid of the fine art of the first inventor. In the case of the weaver’s loom there is, behind the mechanical industry which directs the loom at its given task, the fine art, or what ought to be the fine art, of the designer who has contrived the pattern. In the case of the engraving, the mechanical industry of printing only exists for the sake of bringing out and disseminating abroad the fine art employed upon the design. In the case of the carpet or curtain, the fine art is often only called in to make the product of the useful or mechanical industry of the loom acceptable, since the eye of man is so constituted as to receive pleasure or the reverse of pleasure from whatever it rests upon, and it is to the interest of the manufacturer to have his product so made as to give pleasure if it can. Whether the machine is thus a humble servant to the artist, or the artist a kind of humble purveyor to the machine, the fine art in the result is due to the former alone; and in any case it reaches the recipient at second-hand, having been put in circulation by a medium not artistic but mechanical.

In this context, the question naturally comes up: How do the advancements and growth of mechanical art impact the influence and scope of fine art? The major practical movement in our time is focused on the development of Fine arts and machinery: “art manufacturing.” mechanical inventions and the increase of mechanical products. As long as these inventions are used for purely practical purposes, and their products don’t claim to offer anything enjoyable to look at, this movement isn’t relevant to our discussion. However, there are countless products that do claim to have pleasing qualities, and they receive embellishments meant to make them enjoyable, produced by machines; we usually refer to these in terms like art-industry, industrial art, art manufactures, and so on. In these instances, the industry or creativity that operates the machine isn’t fine art at all, because the machine's purpose is simply to reproduce a specific and set design as easily and perfectly as possible. This holds true whether the machine is something simple, like the engraver’s press, which creates impressions from an engraved plate, or something much more complex, like the loom, which is set up to weave intricate patterns for carpets or curtains. In both situations, there is fine art underpinning the mechanical industry, to some degree. With the engraver’s press, the printer’s industry is supported by the engraver’s art, which, if the engraver is also the original creator of the design, is fine art. If he’s just interpreting someone else’s design, it becomes a semi-mechanical skill that assists the fine art of the original creator. In the case of the weaver’s loom, behind the mechanical industry that directs the loom in its task lies the fine art—or at least should be the fine art—of the designer who created the pattern. The mechanical printing industry exists to showcase and spread the fine art reflected in the design. In the case of carpets or curtains, fine art often serves to enhance the products of the loom's practical or mechanical industry, since the human eye seeks pleasure or displeasure from whatever it sees, and manufacturers aim to produce items that can please. Whether the machine acts as a humble assistant to the artist, or the artist serves the machine, the fine art in the outcome stems solely from the former; in any case, it reaches the audience indirectly, having been circulated through a medium that is mechanical, not artistic.

Again, with reference not to the application of mechanical contrivances but to their invention; is not, it may be inquired, the title of artist due to the inventor of some of the astonishingly complex and astonishingly efficient Perfected machines: are they works of fine art? machines of modern-times? Does he not spend as much thought, labour, genius as any sculptor or musician in perfecting his construction according to his ideal, and is not the construction when it is done—so finished, so responsive in all its parts, so almost human—is not that worthy to be called a work of fine art? The answer is that the inventor has a definite and practical end before him; his ideal is not free; he deserves all credit as the perfector of a particular instrument for a prescribed function, but an artist, a free follower of the fine arts, he is not; although we may perhaps have to concede him a narrow sphere for the play of something like an artistic sense when he contrives the proportion, arrangement, form or finish of the several parts of his machine in one way rather than another, not because they work better so but simply because their look pleases him better.

Again, focusing not on the use of mechanical devices but on their creation; isn't it fair to ask if the title of artist also belongs to the inventor of some of the incredibly complex and efficient Perfected machines: are they considered fine art? machines we see today? Doesn't he invest as much thought, effort, and creativity as any sculptor or musician in perfecting his design according to his vision? And isn’t the final product—so complete, so responsive in all its components, so almost human—worthy of being called a work of fine art? The response is that the inventor has a specific and practical goal in mind; his vision is not free; he fully deserves credit as the creator of a particular tool for a defined purpose, but he is not an artist, a free practitioner of the fine arts. However, we might need to acknowledge that he has a limited space to express something resembling an artistic sense when he decides on the proportions, arrangement, form, or finish of the different parts of his machine in one way over another—not because they function better that way, but simply because he finds their appearance more appealing.

Returning from this digression, let us consider one common observation more on the nature of the fine arts. They are activities, it is said, which were put forth not because they need but because they like. They have the Fine arts called a kind of play. activity to spare, and to put it forth in this way pleases them. Fine art is to mankind what play is to the individual, a free and arbitrary vent for energy which is not needed to be spent upon tasks concerned with the conservation, perpetuation or protection of life. To insist on the superfluous or optional character of the fine arts, to call them the play or pastime of the human race as distinguished from its inevitable and sterner tasks, is obviously only to reiterate our fundamental 359 distinction between the fine arts and the useful or necessary. But the distinction, as expressed in this particular form, has been interpreted in a great variety of ways and followed out to an infinity of conclusions, conclusions regarding both the nature of the activities themselves and the character and value of their results.

Returning from this detour, let’s look at one more common observation about the fine arts. They are activities that are engaged in not because they are necessary, but because they are enjoyable. They have the Fine arts are referred to as a form of play. energy to spare, and expressing it this way brings them joy. Fine art is to humanity what play is to an individual: a free and spontaneous outlet for energy that doesn’t need to be directed toward tasks related to survival or the maintenance of life. To emphasize the optional or non-essential nature of the fine arts, to refer to them as the play or leisure of the human race as opposed to its unavoidable and more serious tasks, is simply to reinforce our basic 359 distinction between the fine arts and the useful or necessary. However, this distinction, when presented in this specific way, has been interpreted in numerous ways and extended to countless conclusions about both the nature of these activities and the character and value of their outcomes.

For instance, starting from this saying that the aesthetic activities are a kind of play, the English psychology of association goes back to the spontaneous cries and movements of children, in which their superfluous energies find a The play idea as worked out by the English associationists. vent. It then enumerates pleasures of which the human constitution is capable apart from direct advantage or utility. Such are the primitive or organic pleasures of sight and hearing, and the secondary or derivative pleasures of association or unconscious reminiscence and inference that soon become mixed up with these. Such are also the pleasures derived from following any kind of mimicry, or representation of things real or like reality. The association psychology describes the grouping within the mind of predilections based upon these pleasures; it shows how the growing organism learns to govern its play, or direct its superfluous energies, in obedience to such predilections, till in mature individuals, and still more in mature societies, a highly regulated and accomplished group of leisure activities are habitually employed in supplying to a not less highly cultivated group of disinterested sensibilities their appropriate artistic pleasures. It is by Herbert Spencer that this view has been most fully and systematically worked out.

For example, starting with the idea that aesthetic activities are a type of play, English psychological theories of association trace back to the natural expressions and movements of children, where their excess energy finds an outlet. It lists various pleasures that humans can experience beyond immediate benefits or usefulness. These include basic or inherent pleasures of sight and sound, as well as secondary pleasures arising from association or subconscious memories and inferences that quickly blend with these. Additionally, there are pleasures gained from engaging in any form of mimicry or representation of real things or things resembling reality. Associational psychology outlines how preferences based on these pleasures are grouped in the mind; it explains how a developing organism learns to manage its play or channel its excess energy according to these preferences. By the time individuals and societies reach maturity, a well-organized and refined set of leisure activities is typically used to provide a similarly cultivated group of uninterested sensibilities with their fitting artistic pleasures. Herbert Spencer is the one who has elaborated on this perspective in the most detailed and systematic way.

Again, in the views of an ancient philosopher, Plato, and a modern poet, Schiller, the consideration that the artistic activities are in the nature of play, and the manifestations in which they result independent of realities and utilities, By Plato. has led to judgments so differing as the following. Plato held that the daily realities of things in experience are not realities, indeed, but only far-off shows or reflections of the true realities, that is, of certain ideal or essential forms which can be apprehended as existing by the mind. Holding this, Plato saw in the works of fine art but the reflections of reflections, the shows of shows, and depreciated them according to their degree of remoteness from the ideal, typical or sense-transcending existences. He sets the arts of medicine, agriculture, shoemaking and the rest above the fine arts, inasmuch as they produce something serious or useful (σπουδαῖόντι). Fine art, he says, produces nothing useful, and makes only semblances (εἰδωλοποιϊκή), whereas what mechanical art produces are utilities, and even in the ordinary sense realities (αὐτοποιητική).

Once again, according to the ancient philosopher Plato and the modern poet Schiller, the idea that artistic activities are essentially playful and that their outcomes exist separately from practical realities has led to very different views. Plato argued that everyday experiences aren’t true realities; instead, they are just distant shadows or reflections of true realities, which are certain ideal or essential forms that can only be grasped by the mind. Because of this belief, Plato considered works of fine art to be mere reflections of reflections, shows of shows, and he judged them based on how far they were from the ideal, typical, or transcendent forms. He ranked practical arts like medicine, agriculture, and shoemaking higher than fine arts because they create something serious or useful (σπουδαῖόντι). According to him, fine art doesn’t produce anything useful and only makes likenesses (εἰδωλοποιϊκή), whereas practical arts create useful outcomes and, in a typical sense, realities (αὐτοποιητική).

In another age, and thinking according to another system, Schiller, so far from holding thus cheap the kingdom of play and show, regarded his sovereignty over that kingdom as the noblest prerogative of man. Schiller wrote his By Schiller. famous Letters on the Aesthetic Education of Man in order to throw into popular currency, and at the same time to modify and follow up in a particular direction, certain metaphysical doctrines which had lately been launched upon the schools by Kant. The spirit of man, said Schiller after Kant, is placed between two worlds, the physical world or world of sense, and the moral world or world of will. Both of these are worlds of constraint or necessity. In the sensible world, the spirit of man submits to constraint from without; in the moral world, it imposes constraint from within. So far as man yields to the importunities of sense, in so far he is bound and passive, the subject of outward shocks and victim of irrational forces. So far as he asserts himself by the exercise of will, imposing upon sense and outward things the dominion of the moral law within him, in so far he is free and active, the rational lord of nature and not her slave. Corresponding to these two worlds, he has within him two conflicting impulses or impulsions of his nature, the one driving him towards one way of living, the other towards another. The one, or sense-impulsion (Stofftrieb), Schiller thinks of as that which enslaves the spirit of man as the victim of matter, the other or moral impulsion (Formtrieb) as that which enthrones it as the dictator of form. Between the two the conflict at first seems inveterate. The kingdom of brute nature and sense, the sphere of man’s subjection and passivity, wages war against the kingdom of will and moral law, the sphere of his activity and control, and every conquest of the one is an encroachment upon the other. Is there, then, no hope of truce between the two kingdoms, no ground where the two contending impulses can be reconciled? Nay, the answer comes, there is such a hope; such a neutral territory there exists. Between the passive kingdom of matter and sense, where man is compelled blindly to feel and be, and the active kingdom of law and reason, where he is compelled sternly to will and act, there is a kingdom where both sense and will may have their way, and where man may give the rein to all his powers. But this middle kingdom does not lie in the sphere of practical life and conduct. It lies in the sphere of those activities which neither subserve any necessity of nature nor fulfil any moral duty. Towards activities of this kind we are driven by a third impulsion of our nature not less essential to it than the other two, the impulsion, as Schiller calls it, of Play (Spieltrieb). Relatively to real life and conduct, play is a kind of harmless show; it is that which we are free to do or leave undone as we please, and which lies alike outside the sphere of needs and duties. In play we may do as we like, and no mischief will come of it. In this sphere man may put forth all his powers without risk of conflict, and may invent activities which will give a complete ideal satisfaction to the contending faculties of sense and will at once, to the impulses which bid him feel and enjoy the shocks of physical and outward things, and the impulse which bids him master such things, control and regulate them. In play you may impose upon Matter what Form you choose, and the two will not interfere with one another or clash. The kingdom of Matter and the kingdom of Form thus harmonized, thus reconciled by the activities of play and show, will in other words be the kingdom of the Beautiful. Follow the impulsion of play, and to the beautiful you will find your road; the activities you will find yourself putting forth will be the activities of aesthetic creation—you will have discovered or invented the fine arts. “Midway”—these are Schiller’s own words—“midway between the formidable kingdom of natural forces and the hallowed kingdom of moral laws, the impulse of aesthetic creation builds up a third kingdom unperceived, the gladsome kingdom of play and show, wherein it emancipates man from all compulsion alike of physical and of moral forces.” Schiller, the poet and enthusiast, thus making his own application of the Kantian metaphysics, goes on to set forth how the fine arts, or activities of play and show, are for him the typical, the ideal activities of the race, since in them alone is it possible for man to put forth his whole, that is his ideal self. “Only when he plays is man really and truly man.” “Man ought only to play with the beautiful, and he ought to play with the beautiful only.” “Education in taste and beauty has for its object to train up in the utmost attainable harmony the whole sum of the powers both of sense and spirit.” And the rest of Schiller’s argument is addressed to show how the activities of artistic creation, once invented, react upon other departments of human life, how the exercise of the play impulse prepares men for an existence in which the inevitable collision of the two other impulses shall be softened or averted more and more. That harmony of the powers which clash so violently in man’s primitive nature, having first been found possible in the sphere of the fine arts, reflects itself, in his judgment, upon the whole composition of man, and attunes him, as an aesthetic being, into new capabilities for the conduct of his social existence.

In a different time and thinking in a different way, Schiller didn't view the realm of play and show as insignificant; instead, he saw his control over that realm as the highest privilege of humanity. Schiller wrote his famous Letters on the Aesthetic Education of Man to popularize and simultaneously reshape certain metaphysical ideas that Kant had recently introduced to the schools. According to Schiller, after Kant, the spirit of man exists between two worlds: the physical world, or the world of senses, and the moral world, or the world of will. Both of these worlds are ones of constraint or necessity. In the physical world, the spirit of man is constrained from the outside; in the moral world, it imposes constraints from within. To the extent that man gives in to sensory demands, he is bound and passive, subject to external shocks and irrational forces. However, when he asserts himself through will, dominating physical sensations and external factors with the moral law within him, he is free and active, the rational ruler of nature, not its slave. Corresponding to these two worlds, he has two opposing impulses within himself: one driving him toward a particular way of living, and the other toward a different one. The first, the sense-impulse (Stofftrieb), enslaves the spirit of man to matter, while the second, the moral impulse (Formtrieb), elevates it to the role of form's dictator. Initially, the conflict between these two seems unyielding. The realm of raw nature and senses, the area of man's subjugation and passivity, battles against the domain of will and moral law, the space of his activity and control, and every victory for one encroaches on the other. Is there no hope of reconciliation between these two realms, no common ground where the clashing impulses can find peace? The answer is yes; there is such hope, and such neutral ground does exist. Between the passive realm of matter and senses, where man is compelled to experience and exist blindly, and the active realm of law and reason, where he must will and act decisively, lies a kingdom where both senses and will can flourish, allowing man to harness all his abilities. But this middle ground doesn't exist in practical life and behavior. It exists in the realm of activities that serve no natural necessity or fulfill any moral obligation. Activities of this kind are driven by a third impulse in our nature, equally essential as the others, which Schiller refers to as the impulse of Play (Spieltrieb). In relation to real life and behavior, play is essentially a harmless showcase; it comprises activities we freely choose to engage in or skip, lying outside the realms of needs and duties. In play, we can do as we please, and there are no negative consequences. In this realm, man can express all his abilities without the risk of conflict, creating activities that provide complete ideal satisfaction to both his sensory and willful impulses, to the desires that urge him to feel and enjoy physical experiences, and to the drive that compels him to master, control, and regulate those experiences. In play, you can impose any form on matter, and they won't interfere with each other or clash. The kingdom of Matter and the kingdom of Form, once harmonized and reconciled through play and display, become the kingdom of the Beautiful. Follow the impulse of play, and you'll find your path to beauty; the activities you engage in will be those of aesthetic creation—you will have discovered or invented the fine arts. “Midway”—these are Schiller's own words—“between the formidable kingdom of natural forces and the revered kingdom of moral laws, the impulse of aesthetic creation builds an imperceptible third kingdom, the joyful realm of play and display, where it frees man from all compulsion of both physical and moral forces.” Schiller, the poet and enthusiast, applying Kantian metaphysics, elaborates on how fine arts or activities of play and display, are the ideal expressions of the human experience, as they enable man to express his complete, that is, his ideal self. “Only when he plays is man truly and authentically man.” “Man should only play with the beautiful, and he should only play with the beautiful.” “Education in taste and beauty aims to train up the whole ensemble of the powers of both senses and spirit in the utmost possible harmony.” The remainder of Schiller's argument addresses how the activities of artistic creation, once introduced, impact other areas of human life, preparing people for a existence where the inevitable clash of the two other impulses can be increasingly softened or prevented. That harmony of the conflicting powers present in man's primitive nature, having been first discovered in the realm of fine arts, reflects upon the entire composition of man and tunes him, as an aesthetic being, into new capabilities for navigating his social life.

Our reasons for dwelling on this wide and enthusiastic formula of Schiller’s are both its importance in the history of reflection—it remained, indeed, for nearly a century a formula almost classical—and the measure of positive value The strong points of Schiller’s theory. which it still retains. The notion of a sphere of voluntary activity for the human spirit, in which, under no compulsion of necessity or conscience, we order matters as we like them apart from any practical end, seems coextensive with the widest conception of fine art and the fine arts as they exist in civilized and developed communities. 360 It insists on and brings into the light the free or optional character of these activities, as distinguished from others to which we are compelled by necessity or duty, as well as the fact that these activities, superfluous as they may be from the points of view of necessity and of duty, spring nevertheless from an imperious and a saving instinct of our nature. It does justice to the part which is, or at any rate may be, filled in the world by pleasures which are apart from profit, and by delights for the enjoyment of which men cannot quarrel. It claims the dignity they deserve for those shows and pastimes in which we have found a way to make permanent all the transitory delights of life and nature, to turn even our griefs and yearnings, by their artistic utterance, into sources of appeasing joy, to make amends to ourselves for the confusion and imperfection of reality by conceiving and imaging forth the semblances of things clearer and more complete, since in contriving them we incorporate with the experiences we have had the better experiences we have dreamed of and longed for.

Our reasons for focusing on Schiller’s broad and enthusiastic idea are its significance in the history of thought—it remained a nearly classic idea for almost a century—and the amount of positive value it still holds. The idea of a realm of voluntary activity for the human spirit, where we organize things as we prefer without the pressure of necessity or conscience, seems to align perfectly with the broadest understanding of fine art and the fine arts as they exist in advanced societies. It emphasizes and highlights the free or optional nature of these activities, contrasting them with those we feel compelled to engage in due to necessity or duty. Furthermore, while these activities may seem unnecessary from the perspectives of obligation and practicality, they still arise from a vital and essential instinct within our nature. It acknowledges the role that pleasures, which offer no profit, play in the world, and the joys that can’t be contested. It asserts the dignity deserved by those performances and amusements that allow us to preserve all the fleeting joys of life and nature, transforming even our sorrows and desires into sources of soothing happiness through artistic expression. It helps us reconcile the chaos and imperfections of reality by imagining and representing clearer and more complete versions of things, as we integrate our past experiences with the better ones we have dreamed of and yearned for.

One manifestly weak point of Schiller’s theory is that though it asserts that man ought only to play with the beautiful, and that he is his best or ideal self only when he does so, yet it does not sufficiently indicate what kinds of Its weak points. play are beautiful nor why we are moved to adopt them. It does not show how the delights of the eye and spirit in contemplating forms, colours and movements, of the ear and spirit in apprehending musical and verbal sounds, or of the whole mind at once in following the comprehensive current of images called up by poetry—it does not clearly show how delights like these differ from those yielded by other kinds of play or pastime, which are by common consent excluded from the sphere of fine art.

One obvious weak point in Schiller’s theory is that while it claims that people should only engage with the beautiful and that they are their best or ideal selves when they do, it doesn't clearly explain what types of play are considered beautiful or why we feel drawn to them. It fails to clarify how the pleasures of sight and spirit in appreciating forms, colors, and movements, the pleasures of the ear and spirit in enjoying musical and verbal sounds, or the total mind's engagement in following the rich flow of images evoked by poetry—does not clearly show how these delights differ from those provided by other types of play or leisure activities which are widely seen as outside the realm of fine art.

The chase, for instance, is a play or pastime which gives scope for any amount of premeditated skill; it has pleasures, for those who take part in it, which are in some degree analogous to the pleasures of the artist; we all know Kinds of play which are not fine art. the claims made on behalf of the noble art of venerie (following true medieval precedent) by the knights and woodmen of Sir Walter Scott’s romances. It is an obvious reply to say that though the chase is play to us, who in civilized communities follow it on no plea of necessity, yet to a not remote ancestry it was earnest; in primitive societies hunting does not belong to the class of optional activities at all, but is among the most pressing of utilitarian needs. But this reply loses much of its force since we have learnt how many of the fine arts, however emancipated from direct utility now, have as a matter of history been evolved out of activities primarily utilitarian. It would be more to the point to remark that the pleasures of the sportsman are the only pleasures arising from the chase; his exertions afford pain to the victim, and no satisfaction to any class of recipients but himself; or at least the sympathetic pleasures of the lookers-on at a hunt or at a battle are hardly to be counted as pleasures of artistic contemplation. The issue which they witness is a real issue; the skilled endeavours with which they sympathize are put forth for a definite practical result, and a result disastrous to one of the parties concerned.

The chase, for example, is a game or activity that allows for plenty of planned skill; it offers pleasures to those involved that are somewhat similar to the pleasures of an artist. We all know Types of play that are not fine art. the claims made for the noble art of hunting (following true medieval tradition) by the knights and woodsmen in Sir Walter Scott’s stories. It's an obvious point to say that while the chase is leisure for us, who in civilized societies engage in it without necessity, it was serious for our not-so-distant ancestors; in primitive societies, hunting isn’t just an optional activity but one of the most urgent practical needs. However, this point loses much of its weight since we’ve learned that many fine arts, though now free from direct utility, have historically developed from activities that were primarily practical. It’s more relevant to note that the pleasures of the sportsman are the only pleasures that come from the chase; his efforts cause pain to the target and bring no satisfaction to anyone but himself; or at least the sympathetic enjoyment of spectators at a hunt or battle hardly counts as artistic contemplation. The situation they observe is a real one; the skilled actions they sympathize with are aimed at achieving a specific practical outcome, which is often disastrous for one of the parties involved.

What then, it may be asked, about athletic games and sports, which hurt nobody, have no connexion with the chase, and give pleasure to thousands of spectators? Here the difference is, that the event which excites the spectator’s interest and pleasure at a race or match or athletic contest is not a wholly unreal or simulated event; it is less real than life, but it is more real than art. The contest has no momentous practical consequences, but it is a contest, an ἄθλος, all the same, in which competitors put forth real strength, and one really wins and others are defeated. Such a struggle, in which the exertions are real and the issue uncertain, we follow with an excitement and a suspense different in kind from the feelings with which we contemplate a fictitious representation. For example, let the reader recall the feelings with which he may have watched a real fencing bout, and compare them with those with which he watches the simulated fencing bout in Shakespeare’s Hamlet. The instance is a crucial one, because in the fictitious case the excitement is heightened by the introduction of the poisoned foil, and by the tremendous consequences which we are aware will turn, in the representation, on the issue. Yet because the fencing scene in Hamlet is a representation, and not real, we find ourselves watching it in a mood quite different from that in which we watch the most ordinary real fencing-match with vizors and blunt foils; a mood more exalted, if the representation is good, but amid the aesthetic emotions of which the fluctuations of strained, if trivial, suspense and the eagerness of sympathetic participation find no place. “The delight of tragedy,” says Johnson, “proceeds from our consciousness of fiction; if we thought murders and treasons real, they would please no more.” So does the peculiar quality of our pleasure in watching the fencing-match in Hamlet, or the wrestling-match in As You Like It, depend on our consciousness of fiction: if we thought the matches real they might please us still, but please us in a different way. Again, of athletics in general, they are pursuits to a considerable degree definitely utilitarian, having for their specific end the training and strengthening of individual human bodies. Nevertheless, in some systems the title of fine arts has been consistently claimed, if not for athletics technically so called, and involving the idea of competition and defeat, at any rate for gymnastics, regarded simply as a display of the physical frame of man cultivated by exercise—as, for instance, it was cultivated by the ancient Greeks—to an ideal perfection of beauty and strength.

What about athletic games and sports, which hurt no one, are not related to hunting, and bring joy to thousands of fans? The key difference is that the events that captivate the spectator's interest and enjoyment in a race or match or athletic contest aren't entirely fake or staged; they are less real than life itself, but they are more real than art. The contest may not have significant practical consequences, but it's still a challenge, an feat, where competitors exert real strength, resulting in one person winning and others losing. We follow such a struggle, where the efforts are genuine and the outcome uncertain, with a thrill and anticipation that's different from how we feel about a fictional representation. For instance, think about how you felt watching an actual fencing match and compare that to your feelings while watching the staged fencing in Shakespeare’s Hamlet. This example is crucial because, in the fictional case, the excitement builds with the introduction of the poisoned foil and the huge consequences we know will depend on the outcome. However, since the fencing scene in Hamlet is just a representation and not reality, we find ourselves watching it in a mood that’s completely different from how we would watch an ordinary real fencing match with masks and blunt swords; the mood might be more elevated if the performance is good, but the aesthetic emotions lack the nuanced suspense and eager participation we would normally feel. “The joy of tragedy,” says Johnson, “comes from our awareness of fiction; if we thought murders and treasons were real, they wouldn’t please us at all.” Likewise, our unique pleasure in watching the fencing match in Hamlet or the wrestling match in As You Like It relies on our understanding of them as fiction: if we believed the matches were real, they might still entertain us, but in a different way. As for athletics in general, they are endeavours that are largely practical, aimed at training and strengthening individual human bodies. Still, in some traditions, athletics—especially those involving competition and defeat—have been consistently recognized as fine arts, and gymnastics, viewed simply as a display of the human physique honed by exercise—as exemplified by the ancient Greeks—has been sought after for an ideal level of beauty and strength.

But apart from criticisms like these on the theory of Schiller, the Kantian doctrine of a metaphysical opposition between the senses and the reason has for most minds of to-day lost its validity, and with it falls away Schiller’s The play theory in the light of anthropological research. derivative theory of a Stofftrieb and a Formtrieb contending like enemies for dominion over the human spirit, with a neutral or reconciling Spieltrieb standing between them. Even taking the existence of the Spieltrieb, or play-impulse, by itself as a plain and indubitable fact in human nature, the theory that this impulse is the general or universal source of the artistic activities of the race, which seemed adequate to thinkers so far apart as Schiller and Herbert Spencer, is found no longer to hold water. The tendency of recent thought and study on these subjects has been to abandon the abstract or dialectical method in favour of the methods of historical and anthropological inquiry. In the light of these methods it is claimed that the artistic activities of the race spring in point of fact from no single source but from a number of different sources. It is admitted that the play-impulse is one of these, and the allied and overlapping, but not identical, impulse of mimicry or imitation another. But it is urged at the same time that these twin impulses, rooted as they both are among the primordial faculties both of men and animals, are far from existing merely to provide a vent whereby the superfluous energies of sentient beings may discharge themselves at pleasure, but are indispensable utilitarian instincts, by which the young are led to practise and rehearse in sport those activities the exercise of which in earnest will be necessary to their preservation in the adult state. (The researches of Professor Karl Groos in this field seem to be conclusive.) A third impulse innate in man, though scarcely so primordial as the other two, and one which the animals cannot share with him, is the impulse of record or commemoration. Man instinctively desires, alike for safety, use and pleasure, to perpetuate and hand on the memory of his deeds and experiences whether by words or by works of his hands contrived for permanence. This impulse of record is the most stimulating ally of the impulse of mimicry or imitation, and perhaps a large part of the arts usually put down as springing from the love of imitation ought rather to be put down as springing from the commemorative or recording impulse, using imitation as its necessary means. Granting the existence in primitive man of these three allied impulses of play, of mimicry, and of record, it is urged that they are so many distinct though contiguous sources from which whole groups of the fine arts have sprung, and that all three in their origin 361 served ends primarily or in great part utilitarian. Examining any of the rudimentary artistic activities of primitive man already mentioned: the decoration of the person with tattooings or strings of shells or teeth or feathers had primarily the object of attracting or impressing the opposite sex, or terrifying an enemy, or indicating the tribal relations of the person so adorned; some of the same purposes were served by the scratches and tufts and markings on weapons or utensils; the graffiti or outline drawings of animals incised by cave-dwellers on bones are surmised to have sprung in like manner from the desire of conveying information, combined, probably, sometimes with that of obtaining magic power over the things represented; the erection of memorial shrines and images of all kinds, from the rudest upwards, had among other purposes the highly practical one of propitiating the spirits of the departed; and so on through the whole range of kindred activities. It is contended, next, that such activities only take on the character of rudimentary fine arts at a certain stage of their evolution. Before they can assume that character, they must come under the influence and control of yet another rooted and imperious impulse in mankind. That is the impulse of emotional self-expression, the instinct which compels us to seek relief under the stimulus of pent-up feeling; an instinct, it is added, second only in power to those which drive us to seek food, shelter, protection from enemies, and satisfaction for-sexual desires. According to a law of our constitution, the argument goes on, this need for emotional self-expression finds itself fully satisfied only by certain modes of activity; those, namely, which either have in themselves, or impress on their products, the property of rhythm, that is, of regular interval and recurrence, flow, order and proportion. Leaping, shouting, and clapping hands is the human animal’s most primitive way of seeking relief under the pressure of emotion; so soon as one such animal found out that he both expressed and relieved his emotions best, and communicated them best to his fellows, when he moved in regular rhythm and shouted in regular time and with regular changes of pitch, he ceased to be a mere excited savage and became a primitive dancer, singer, musician—in a word, artist. So soon as another found himself taking pleasure in certain qualities of regular interval, pattern and arrangement of lines, shapes, and colours, apart from all questions of purpose or utility, in his tattooings and self-adornments, his decoration of tools or weapons or structures for shelter or commemoration, he in like manner became a primitive artist in ornamental and imitative design.

But aside from criticisms like these regarding Schiller's theory, most people today find the Kantian viewpoint of a metaphysical conflict between the senses and reason to be invalid. With that, Schiller's The theory of play based on anthropological research. derived theory of a Stofftrieb and a Formtrieb battling like rivals for control over the human spirit also falls apart, with a neutral or reconciling Spieltrieb in between. Even considering the Spieltrieb, or play impulse, as a clear and undeniable aspect of human nature, the idea that this impulse is the general or universal source of artistic activities, which seemed valid to thinkers as different as Schiller and Herbert Spencer, no longer holds true. Recent thought and study on these topics have leaned towards abandoning abstract or dialectical methods in favor of historical and anthropological inquiry. According to these methods, it is argued that artistic activities come not from a single source but from multiple sources. While it is acknowledged that the play impulse is one of these sources, and the related but distinct impulse of mimicry or imitation is another, it is also asserted that both impulses, rooted in the foundational faculties of both humans and animals, exist for more than just allowing sentient beings to release surplus energy at will; they are essential practical instincts that guide the young in practicing through play the activities they will need for survival as adults. (The research of Professor Karl Groos in this area seems conclusive.) A third impulse, innate to humans but not shared by animals, is the impulse of record or commemoration. Humans instinctively want, for safety, utility, and pleasure, to preserve and pass on the memory of their actions and experiences, whether through words or works designed for permanence. This recording impulse is a significant companion to the mimicry or imitation impulse, and much of the art usually attributed to a love of imitation might better be attributed to the commemorative or recording impulse that uses imitation as a necessary tool. Recognizing that primitive humans possess these three related impulses of play, mimicry, and record suggests they are distinct yet closely related sources from which various forms of fine art have emerged, and that all three originally served, at least in significant part, practical purposes. When examining some of the basic artistic activities of primitive humans mentioned earlier—the decoration of the body with tattoos, strings of shells, teeth, or feathers primarily aimed at attracting or impressing the opposite sex, or scaring an enemy, or signaling tribal identity; similar intents were behind markings and designs on tools and weapons; the graffiti or outline drawings of animals made by cave dwellers on bones are thought to have arisen from the desire to communicate information, possibly combined with a wish to wield magical influence over represented objects; the construction of memorial shrines and various images, even the most rudimentary, served the practical goal of appeasing the spirits of the deceased; and so on through all related activities. It is argued next that such activities only become recognized as basic fine arts at a certain point in their development. To achieve this status, they must come under the sway of yet another deep-seated and compelling impulse in humanity: the impulse of emotional self-expression, the instinct that drives us to relieve pent-up feelings; an instinct, it is noted, second only in strength to those that push us to seek food, shelter, protection from enemies, and sexual satisfaction. The argument continues that, according to our nature, the need for emotional self-expression is only fully met through specific modes of activity; those that either possess, or impart to their results, qualities of rhythm—regular intervals, recurrence, flow, order, and proportion. Leaping, shouting, and clapping are the most primitive ways humans express relief under emotional strain; once an early human realized they expressed and alleviated emotions best by moving in regular rhythm and coordinating their shouting and pitch changes, they transformed from a mere excited savage into a primitive dancer, singer, musician—in short, an artist. Similarly, when another began to appreciate certain qualities of regular intervals, patterns, and arrangements in lines, shapes, and colors in their tattoos and self-adornments, as well as in the decoration of tools, weapons, or structures for shelter or commemoration, they also became a primitive artist in ornamental and imitative design.

The special qualities of pleasure felt and communicated by doing things in one way rather than another, independently of direct utility, which we indicated at the outset as characteristic of the whole range of the fine arts, appear on this showing to be dependent primarily on the response of our organic sensibilities of nerve and muscle, eye, ear and brain to the stimulus of rhythm, (using the word in its widest sense) imparted either to our own actions and utterances or to the works of our hands. Such pleasures would seem to have been first experienced by man directly, in the endeavour to find relief with limbs and voice from states of emotional tension, and then incidentally, as a kind of by-product arising and affording similar relief in the development of a wide range of utilitarian activities. Into the nature of those organic sensibilities, and the grounds of the relief they afford us when gratified, it is the province of physiological and psychological aesthetics to inquire: our business here is only with the activities directed towards their satisfaction and the results of those activities in the works of fine art. On the whole the account of the matter yielded by the method of anthropological research, and here very briefly summarized, may be accepted as answering more closely to the complex nature of the facts than any of the accounts hitherto current; and so we may expand our first tentative suggestion of a definition into one more complete, which from the nature of the case cannot be very brief or simple and must run somehow thus: Fine art is everything which man does or makes in one way rather than another, freely and with premeditation, in order to express and arouse emotion, in obedience to laws of rhythmic movement or utterance or regulated design, and with results independent of direct utility and capable of affording to many permanent and disinterested delight.

The unique qualities of pleasure derived from doing things in one way rather than another, regardless of their direct usefulness, which we highlighted at the beginning as typical of all fine arts, seem to depend mainly on how our bodies—our nerves, muscles, eyes, ears, and brains—respond to the stimulus of rhythm (using the term broadly) that we get from our own actions and expressions as well as from the creations we make. It appears that humans first experienced these pleasures directly while trying to relieve emotional tension through physical movement and vocal expression, and later, incidentally, as a side effect of a variety of practical tasks. Understanding the nature of those organic sensitivities and the relief they provide when satisfied is the focus of physiological and psychological aesthetics; our goal here is merely to examine the activities aimed at fulfilling those needs and the outcomes of those activities in fine art. Overall, the insights gained from anthropological research, of which we give a very brief overview here, may be considered to align more closely with the complex nature of the facts than any previous accounts; thus, we can expand our initial tentative definition into a more comprehensive one, which, by its nature, cannot be very brief or simple and should read something like this: Fine art is everything that humans create or do in a specific way, freely and intentionally, to express and evoke emotion, according to principles of rhythmic movement or expression or structured design, and producing results that are independent of direct usefulness and capable of providing lasting and unselfish enjoyment to many.

II. Of the Fine Arts severally.

II. About the Fine Arts individually.

Architecture, sculpture, painting, music and poetry are by common consent, as has been said at the outset, the five principal or greater fine arts practised among developed communities of men. It is possible in thought to group Modes in which the five greater arts have been classified. these five arts in as many different orders as there are among them different kinds of relation or affinity. One thinker fixes his attention upon one kind of relations as the most important, and arranges his group accordingly; another upon another; and each, when he has done so, is very prone to claim for his arrangement the virtue of being the sole essentially and fundamentally true. For example, we may ascertain one kind of relations between the arts by inquiring which is the simplest or most limited in its effects, which next simplest, which another degree less simple, which least simple or most complex of them all. This, the relation of progressive complexity or comprehensiveness between the fine arts, is the relation upon which Auguste Comte fixed his attention, and it yields in his judgment the following order:—Architecture lowest in complexity, because both of the kinds of effects which it produces and of the material conditions and limitations under which it works; sculpture next; painting third; then music; and poetry highest, as the most complex or comprehensive art of all, both in its own special effects and in its resources for ideally calling up the effects of all the other arts as well as all the phenomena of nature and experiences of life. A somewhat similar grouping was adopted, though from the consideration of a wholly different set of relations, by Hegel. Hegel fixed his attention on the varying relations borne by the idea, or spiritual element, to the embodiment of the idea, or material element, in each art. Leaving aside that part of his doctrine which concerns, not the phenomena of the arts themselves, but their place in the dialectical world-plan or scheme of the universe, Hegel said in effect something like this. In certain ages and among certain races, as in Egypt and Assyria, and again in the Gothic age of Europe, mankind has only dim ideas for art to express, ideas insufficiently disengaged and realized, of which the expression cannot be complete or lucid, but only adumbrated and imperfect; the characteristic art of those ages is a symbolic art, with its material element predominating over and keeping down its spiritual; and such a symbolic art is architecture. In other ages, as in the Greek age, the ideas of men have come to be definite, disengaged, and clear; the characteristic art of such an age will be one in which the spiritual and material elements are in equilibrium, and neither predominates over nor keeps down the other, but a thoroughly realized idea is expressed in a thoroughly adequate and lucid form; this is the mode of expression called classic, and the classic art is sculpture. In other ages, again, and such are the modern ages of Europe, the idea grows in power and becomes importunate; the spiritual and material elements are no longer in equilibrium, but the spiritual element predominates; the characteristic arts of such an age will be those in which thought, passion, sentiment, aspiration, emotion, emerge in freedom, dealing with material form as masters or declining its shackles altogether; this is the romantic mode of expression, and the romantic arts are painting, music and poetry. A later systematizer, Lotze, fixed his attention on the relative degrees of freedom or independence which the several arts enjoy—their freedom, that is, from the necessity of either imitating given facts of nature or ministering, as part of their task, to given practical uses. In his grouping, instead of the order architecture, sculpture, painting, music, poetry, music comes first, because it has neither to imitate any natural facts nor to serve any practical end; architecture next, because, though it is tied to useful ends and material conditions, yet it is free from the task of imitation, and pleases the eye in its degree, by pure form, light and shade, and the rest, as music 362 pleases the ear by pure sound; then, as arts all tied to the task of imitation, sculpture, painting and poetry, taken in progressive order according to the progressing comprehensiveness of their several resources.

Architecture, sculpture, painting, music, and poetry are widely recognized as the five main fine arts practiced in developed societies. It's possible to categorize these five arts in various ways based on their different relationships or connections. One theorist may focus on one type of relationship as the most significant and arrange the arts accordingly, while another may emphasize a different aspect. Each of them tends to argue that their arrangement is the only genuinely true one. For instance, we can identify a relationship between the arts by considering which is the simplest or has the most limited effects, followed by the next simplest, and so on, up to the most complex. This idea of increasing complexity among the fine arts is what Auguste Comte emphasized, leading him to conclude the following order: architecture is the least complex, due to the nature of its effects and the material conditions in which it operates; next is sculpture; then painting; followed by music; and finally, poetry is the most complex art, as it can evoke the effects of all other arts and encompass the experiences of nature and life as a whole. A somewhat similar classification was made by Hegel, although he approached it from a different perspective. Hegel focused on the relationship between the idea, or spiritual aspect, and its material embodiment in each art. Setting aside his thoughts on the arts' place in the broader dialectical system of the universe, Hegel essentially argued that in certain periods and cultures—like those of Ancient Egypt and Assyria, as well as during the Gothic era—humanity's concepts were vague and not fully realized, leading to an art form that could only express these ideas imperfectly, which he termed symbolic art, with architecture being a prime example. In the Greek era, however, ideas became clearer and more defined, leading to an art form where the spiritual and material aspects balanced each other, allowing a fully realized idea to be expressed clearly. This equilibrium represents classic art, primarily seen in sculpture. In contrast, in modern European times, ideas grow stronger and demand expression, with the spiritual aspect dominating; the characteristic arts of this age focus on freedom of thought, emotion, and sentiment, engaging with material form either as masters or not relying on it significantly; this is known as romantic expression, represented by painting, music, and poetry. Another theorist, Lotze, explored the varying degrees of independence enjoyed by the different arts—specifically, how they relate to imitating nature or fulfilling practical purposes. In his grouping, music comes first since it neither imitates natural phenomena nor serves practical functions. Next is architecture, which, while practical, is not required to mimic nature and captivates through pure form, light, and shadow, similar to how music satisfies the ear with sound. Finally, sculpture, painting, and poetry follow in progressive order, tied to the task of imitation and organized according to the increasing complexity of their respective resources.

The thinker on these subjects has, moreover, to consider the enumeration and classification of the lesser or subordinate fine arts. Whole clusters or families of these occur to the mind at once; such as dancing, an art subordinate Place of the minor or subordinate fine arts. to music, but quite different in kind; acting, an art auxiliary to poetry, from which in kind it differs no less; eloquence in all kinds, so far as it is studied and not merely spontaneous; and among the arts which fashion or dispose material objects, embroidery and the weaving of patterns, pottery, glassmaking, goldsmith’s work and jewelry, joiner’s work, gardening (according to the claim of some), and a score of other dexterities and industries which are more than mere dexterities and industries because they add elements of beauty and pleasure to elements of serviceableness and use. To decide whether any given one of these has a right to the title of fine art, and, if so, to which of the greater fine arts it should be thought of as appended and subordinate, or between which two of them intermediate, is often no easy task.

The thinker on these subjects also needs to think about the listing and categorization of the lesser or subordinate fine arts. Many clusters or families of these come to mind right away; for instance, dancing, an art that is secondary to music but distinctly different; acting, an art that complements poetry, which it also significantly differs from; eloquence in all its forms, as long as it is studied and not just spontaneous; and among the arts that shape or arrange material objects, embroidery and pattern weaving, pottery, glassmaking, goldsmithing and jewelry, woodworking, gardening (according to some claims), and many other skills and crafts that are more than just skills and crafts because they add beauty and enjoyment to practicality and usefulness. Determining whether any of these deserves the title of fine art, and if so, to which of the greater fine arts it should be considered attached and subordinate, or between which two it serves as an intermediary, is often quite a challenging task.

The weak point of all classifications of the kind of which we have above given examples is that each is intended to be final, and to serve instead of any other. The truth is, that the relations between the several fine arts are No one classification final or sufficient. much too complex for any single classification to bear this character. Every classification of the fine arts must necessarily be provisional, according to the particular class of relations which it keeps in view. And for practical purposes it is requisite to bear in mind not one classification but several. Fixing our attention, not upon complicated or problematical relations between the various arts, but only upon their simple and undisputed relations, and giving the first place in our consideration to the five greater arts of architecture, sculpture, painting, music and poetry, we shall find at least three principal modes in which every fine art either resembles or differs from the rest.

The main issue with all the types of classifications we've mentioned above is that each one is meant to be definitive and serve as a replacement for any others. The reality is that the relationships between the different fine arts are No single classification is final or sufficient. far too intricate for any single classification to hold this role. Every classification of the fine arts has to be temporary, based on the specific type of relationships it focuses on. For practical reasons, we need to consider not just one classification but several. By concentrating on the straightforward and accepted relationships between the various arts, rather than their complicated or debatable connections, and prioritizing the five major arts of architecture, sculpture, painting, music, and poetry, we can identify at least three main ways in which each fine art either resembles or differs from the others.

1. The Shaping and the Speaking Arts (or Arts of Form and Arts of Utterance, or Arts of Space and Arts of Time).—Each of the greater arts either makes something or not which can be seen and handled. The arts which make something which can be First classification: the shaping and the speaking arts. seen and handled are architecture, sculpture and painting. In the products or results of all these arts external matter is in some way or another manually put together, fashioned or disposed. But music and poetry do not produce any results of this kind. What music produces is something that can be heard, and what poetry produces is something that can be either heard or read—which last is a kind of ideal hearing, having for its avenue the eye instead of the ear, and for its material, written signs for words instead of the spoken words themselves. Now what the eye sees from any one point of view, it sees all at once; in other words, the parts of anything we see fill or occupy not time but space, and reach us from various points in space at a single simultaneous perception. If we are at the proper distance we see at one glance a house from the ground to the chimneys, a statue from head to foot, and in a picture at once the foreground and background, and everything that is within the four corners of the frame. There is, indeed, this distinction to be drawn, that in walking round or through a temple, church, house or any other building, new parts and proportions of the building unfold themselves to view; and the same thing happens in walking round a statue or turning it on a turntable: so that the spectator, by his own motions and the time it takes to effect them, can impart to architecture and sculpture something of the character of time arts. But their products, as contemplated from any one point of view, are in themselves solid, stationary and permanent in space. Whereas the parts of anything we hear, or, reading, can imagine that we hear, fill or occupy not space at all but time, and can only reach us from various points in time through a continuous series of perceptions, or, in the case of reading, of images raised by words in the mind. We have to wait, in music, while one note follows another in a theme, and one theme another in a movement; and in poetry, while one line with its images follows another in a stanza, and one stanza another in a canto, and so on. It is a convenient form of expressing both aspects of this difference between the two groups of arts, to say that architecture, sculpture and painting are arts which give shape to things in space, or, more briefly, shaping arts; and music and poetry arts which give utterance to things in time, or, more briefly, speaking arts. These simple terms of the shaping and the speaking arts (the equivalent of the Ger. bildende und redende Künste) are not usual in English; but they seem appropriate and clear; the simplest alternatives for their use is to speak of the manual and the vocal arts, or the arts of space and the arts of time. This is practically, if not logically, the most substantial and vital distinction upon which a classification of the fine arts can be based. The arts which surround us in space with stationary effects for the eye, as the house we live in, the pictures on the walls, the marble figure in the vestibule, are stationary, hold a different kind of place in our experience—not a greater or a higher place, but essentially a different place—from the arts which provide us with transitory effects in time, effects capable of being awakened for the ear or mind at any moment, as a symphony is awakened by playing and an ode by reading, but lying in abeyance until we bid that moment come, and passing away when the performance or the reading is over. Such, indeed, is the practical force of the distinction that in modern usage the expression fine art, or even art, is often used by itself in a sense which tacitly excludes music and poetry, and signifies the group of manual or shaping arts alone.

1. The Shaping and the Speaking Arts (or Arts of Form and Arts of Utterance, or Arts of Space and Arts of Time).—Each of the major arts either creates something that can be seen and touched or it does not. The arts that create something visible and tangible are architecture, sculpture, and painting. In the products of all these arts, physical materials are crafted, shaped, or arranged in some way. But music and poetry don’t create physical objects. Music produces something that can be heard, while poetry produces something that can be heard or read—which is like a kind of ideal hearing, accessed through the eye instead of the ear, using written symbols for words instead of spoken words. The eye captures everything from a single viewpoint all at once; in other words, the elements of what we see take up space, not time, and come to us from different points in space in a single, simultaneous observation. At the right distance, we can see a house from the ground to the chimneys, a statue from head to toe, and both the foreground and background of a painting all at once, within the frame’s four corners. There is a distinction to be made: when we walk around or through a temple, church, house, or any other building, new features and proportions are revealed; the same happens when we circle a statue or rotate it on a turntable, allowing the viewer to experience architecture and sculpture with some of the qualities of time-based arts through their movements and the time it takes. However, the products of these arts, when viewed from one perspective, are solid, fixed, and permanent in space. On the other hand, the components of what we hear or imagine hearing when reading exist not in space but in time, arriving from various moments through a continuous flow of perceptions, or in the case of reading, through mental images formed by words. In music, we have to wait for one note to follow another in a theme, and for one theme to follow another in a movement; in poetry, one line with its imagery follows another in a stanza, and one stanza follows another in a canto, and so on. To clearly express this distinction between the two categories of arts, we can refer to architecture, sculpture, and painting as arts that shape things in space, or more briefly, as shaping arts; while music and poetry can be called arts that express things in time, or, more briefly, speaking arts. The straightforward terms shaping and speaking arts (similar to the German bildende und redende Künste) aren’t commonly used in English, but they seem fitting and clear; simpler alternatives would be manual and vocal arts, or the arts of space and the arts of time. This distinction is practically, if not logically, the most substantial and significant basis for classifying fine arts. The arts that surround us with permanent visual effects—as in the house we live in, the pictures on the walls, and the marble statue in the entrance—are stationary and occupy a different kind of space in our experience—not a greater or higher place, but essentially a different one—compared to the arts that provide us with fleeting effects in time, which can be activated for the ear or mind at any moment, like a symphony played or an ode read, but are dormant until we choose to experience them, and fade away once the performance or reading is finished. This distinction is so impactful that nowadays, the term fine art, or even just art, is often used to refer solely to manual or shaping arts, implicitly excluding music and poetry.

As between three of the five greater arts and the other two, the distinction on which we are now dwelling is complete. Buildings, statues, pictures, belong strictly to sight and space; to time and to hearing, real through the ear, or ideal through Intermediate class of arts of motion. the mind in reading, belong music and poetry. Among the lesser or subordinate arts, however, there are several in which this distinction finds no place, and which produce, in space and time at once, effects midway between the stationary or stable, and the transitory or fleeting. Such is the dramatic art, in which the actor makes with his actions and gestures, or several actors make with the combination of their different actions and gestures, a kind of shifting picture, which appeals to the eyes of the witnesses while the sung or spoken words of the drama appeal to their ears; thus making of them spectators and auditors at once, and associating with the pure time art of words the mixed time-and-space art of bodily movements. As all movement whatsoever is necessarily movement through space, and takes time to happen, so every other fine art which is wholly or in part an act of movement partakes in like manner of this double character. Along with acting thus comes dancing. Dancing, when it is of the mimic character, may itself be a kind of acting; historically, indeed, the dancer’s art was the parent of the actor’s; whether apart from or in conjunction with the mimic element, dancing is an art in which bodily movements obey, accompany, and, as it were, express or accentuate in space the time effects of music. Eloquence or oratory in like manner, so far as its power depends on studied and premeditated gesture, is also an art which to some extent enforces its primary appeal through the ear in time by a secondary appeal through the eye in space. So much for the first distinction, that between the shaping or space arts and the speaking or time arts, with the intermediate and subordinate class of arts which, like acting, dancing, oratory, add to the pure time element a mixed time-and-space element. These last can hardly be called shaping arts, because it is his own person, and not anything outside himself, which the actor, the dancer, the orator disposes or adjusts; they may perhaps best be called arts of motion, or moving arts.

As for the distinction between three of the five major arts and the other two, this difference is clear. Buildings, statues, and paintings relate solely to sight and space; music and poetry connect to time and hearing, either directly through the ear or indirectly through the mind while reading. However, among the lesser or supporting arts, there are many that blur this distinction and create effects that occur in both space and time simultaneously, falling between stable and fleeting. This is seen in the dramatic art, where actors create a dynamic presentation with their actions and gestures, or where different actors combine their movements to form a shifting scene that engages the audience's eyes while the spoken or sung words of the play engage their ears. This makes them both spectators and listeners, combining the pure time art of words with the mixed time-and-space art of physical movement. Since all movement occurs through space and takes time, every fine art that involves movement shares this dual nature. Along with acting comes dancing. Dance, especially when it's mimetic, can itself be a form of acting; historically speaking, dance was the origin of acting. Whether it stands alone or includes a mimetic element, dance features bodily movements that follow, accompany, and express the time effects of music through space. Similarly, eloquence or oratory, which relies on studied gestures, also presents a primary appeal through the ear over time while offering a secondary appeal through the eye in space. This leads us to the first distinction between the shaping or space arts and the speaking or time arts, with the intermediate and supporting arts—like acting, dancing, and oratory—that combine the pure time element with a mixed time-and-space element. These last arts can't quite be termed shaping arts because they involve the actor’s, dancer’s, or orator’s own body rather than something external; they’re perhaps best referred to as arts of motion or moving arts.

2. The Imitative and the Non-Imitative Arts.—Each art either does or does not represent or imitate something which exists already in Second classification: the imitative and non-imitative arts. nature. Of the five greater fine arts, those which thus represent objects existing in nature are sculpture, painting and poetry. Those which do not represent anything so existing are music and architecture. On this principle we get a new grouping. Two shaping or space arts and one speaking or time art now form the imitative group of sculpture, painting and poetry; while one space art and one time art form the non-imitative group of music and architecture. The mixed space-and-time arts of the actor, and of the dancer, so far as he or she is also a mimic, belong, of course, by their very name and nature, to the imitative class.

2. The Imitative and the Non-Imitative Arts.—Every art either represents or imitates something that already exists in nature or it does not. Of the five main fine arts, the ones that represent objects found in nature are sculpture, painting, and poetry. The ones that do not represent anything existing are music and architecture. Based on this principle, we can create a new classification. Two visual arts and one verbal art make up the imitative group of sculpture, painting, and poetry; while one visual art and one verbal art form the non-imitative group of music and architecture. The mixed arts of performance, like acting and dancing, especially when the performer also imitates, naturally belong to the imitative category by their very nature.

It was the imitative character of the fine arts which chiefly occupied the attention of Aristotle. But in order to understand the art theories of Aristotle it is necessary to bear in mind the very different meanings which the idea of imitation The imitative functions of art according to Aristotle. bore to his mind and bears to ours. For Aristotle the idea of imitation or representation (mimēsis) was extended so as to denote the expressing, evoking or making manifest of anything whatever, whether material objects or ideas or feelings. Music and dancing, by which utterance or expression is given to emotions that may be quite detached from all definite ideas or images, are thus for him varieties of imitation. He says, indeed, most music and dancing, as if he was aware that there were exceptions, but he does not indicate what the exceptions are; and under the head of imitative music, he distinctly reckons some kinds of instrumental music without words. But in our own more restricted usage, to imitate means to copy, mimic or represent some existing phenomenon, some definite reality of experience; and we can only call those imitative arts which bring before us such things, either directly by showing us their actual likeness, as sculpture does in solid form, and as painting does by means of lines and colours on a plane surface, or else indirectly, by calling up ideas or images of them in the mind, as poetry and literature do by means of words. It is by a stretch of ordinary usage 363 that we apply the word imitation even to this last way of representing things; since words are no true likeness of, but only customary signs for, the thing they represent. And those arts we cannot call imitative at all, which by combinations of abstract sound or form express and arouse emotions unattended by the recognizable likeness, idea or image of any definite thing.

Aristotle primarily focused on the imitative nature of the fine arts. However, to grasp his art theories, it’s important to recognize the different meanings that the concept of imitation had for him compared to today. For Aristotle, the idea of imitation or representation (mimēsis) was broader—it included expressing, evoking, or bringing to light anything, whether it be physical objects, ideas, or emotions. Music and dance, which express feelings that may not be tied to specific ideas or images, are considered forms of imitation by him. He mentions that most music and dance fall into this category, suggesting he was aware of exceptions, but he doesn’t specify what those exceptions are. He also categorizes certain types of instrumental music without lyrics as imitative. In our more limited interpretation, to imitate means to copy, mimic, or represent an existing phenomenon—something concrete from our experience. We refer to the imitative arts as those that present such phenomena, either directly by depicting their actual likeness, as sculpture does in three-dimensional form, and as painting does with lines and colors on a flat surface, or indirectly by conjuring ideas or images in the mind, as poetry and literature achieve with words. It is somewhat of a stretch to call this last method imitation, since words are not true representations but only conventional signs for what they signify. We cannot categorize as imitative those arts that create complex sounds or forms that evoke emotions without a recognizable likeness, idea, or image of something specific.

Now the emotions of music when music goes along with words, whether in the shape of actual song or even of the instrumental accompaniment of song, are no doubt in a certain sense attended with definite ideas; those, namely, which are Non-imitative character of music. expressed by the words themselves. But the same ideas would be conveyed to the mind equally well by the same words if they were simply spoken. What the music contributes is a special element of its own, an element of pure emotion, aroused through the sense of hearing, which heightens the effect of the words upon the feelings without helping to elucidate them for the understanding. Nay, it is well known that a song well sung produces its intended effect upon the feelings almost as fully though we fail to catch the words or are ignorant of the language to which they belong. Thus the view of Aristotle cannot be defended on the ground that he was familiar with music only in an elementary form, and principally as the direct accompaniment of words, and that in his day the modern development of the art, as an art for building up constructions of independent sound, vast and intricate fabrics of melody and harmony detached from words, was a thing not yet imagined. That is perfectly true; the immense technical and intellectual development of music, both in its resources and its capacities, is an achievement of the modern world; but the essential character of musical sound is the same in its most elementary as in its most complicated stage. Its privilege is to give delight, not by communicating definite ideas, or calling up particular images, but by appealing to certain organic sensibilities in our nerves of hearing, and through such appeal expressing on the one part and arousing on the other a unique kind of emotion. The emotion caused by music may be altogether independent of any ideas conveyable by words. Or it may serve to intensify and enforce other emotions arising at the same time in connexion with the ideas conveyed by words; and it was one of the contentions of Richard Wagner that in the former phase the art is now exhausted, and that only in the latter are new conquests in store for it. But in either case the music is the music, and is like nothing else; it is no representation or similitude of anything whatsoever.

Now, the emotions evoked by music when it accompanies words, whether in the form of an actual song or instrumental support, certainly come with specific ideas; specifically, those expressed by the words themselves. However, those same ideas could be effectively communicated just as well if the words were spoken aloud. What music adds is a unique element of its own—a pure emotional experience heightened through our sense of hearing—which amplifies the impact of the words on our feelings without clarifying their meaning. Indeed, it's well-known that a song performed beautifully can evoke its intended emotional response even if we don’t understand the words or the language they are in. Therefore, Aristotle's perspective can't be defended by claiming he only understood music at a basic level, primarily as an accompaniment to words, especially since the complex, independent art form of music we know today hadn’t been imagined in his time. While it's true that the technical and intellectual evolution of music, in terms of its resources and capabilities, is a modern achievement, the fundamental nature of musical sound remains the same from its simplest to its most complex forms. Its special quality is to bring joy not by conveying specific ideas or evoking particular images but by reaching into our auditory senses and, through that connection, expressing and provoking a unique emotion. The feelings stirred by music can be entirely separate from any ideas that words might express. Alternatively, it can enhance and amplify other emotions that arise simultaneously with the ideas conveyed by the words. Richard Wagner argued that music has exhausted its potential in the former capacity, and that new achievements lie only in the latter. Regardless, in either case, the music stands alone; it is like nothing else; it is not a representation or likeness of anything at all.

But does not instrumental music, it will be said, sometimes really imitate the sounds of nature, as the piping of birds, the whispering of woods, the moaning of storms or explosion of thunder; or does it not, at any rate, suggest these things by resemblances An objection and its answer. so close that they almost amount in the strict sense to imitation? Occasionally, it is true, music does allow itself these playful excursions into a region of quasi-imitation or mimicry. It modifies the character of its abstract sounds into something, so to speak, more concrete, and, instead of sensations which are like nothing else, affords us sensations which recognizably resemble those we receive from some of the sounds of nature. But such excursions are hazardous, and to make them often is the surest proof of vulgarity in a musician. Neither are the successful effects of the great composers in evoking ideas of particular natural phenomena generally in the nature of real imitations or representations; although passages such as the notes of the dove and nightingale in Haydn’s Creation, and of the cuckoo in Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony, the bleating of the sheep in the Don Quixote symphony of Richard Strauss, must be acknowledged to be exceptions. Again, it is a recognized fact concerning the effect of instrumental music on those of its hearers who try to translate such effect into words, that they will all find themselves in tolerable agreement as to the meaning of any passage so long as they only attempt to describe it in terms of vague emotion, and to say such and such a passage expresses, as the case may be, dejection or triumph, effort or the relaxation of effort, eagerness or languor, suspense or fruition, anguish or glee. But their agreement comes to an end the moment they begin to associate, in their interpretation, definite ideas with these vague emotions; then we find that what suggests in idea to one hearer the vicissitudes of war will suggest to another, or to the same at another time, the vicissitudes of love, to another those of spiritual yearning and aspiration, to another, it may be, those of changeful travel by forest, field and ocean, to another those of life’s practical struggle and ambition. The infinite variety of ideas which may thus be called up in different minds by the same strain of music is proof enough that the music is not like any particular thing. The torrent of varied and entrancing emotion which it pours along the heart, emotion latent and undivined until the spell of sound begins, that is music’s achievement and its secret. It is this effect, whether coupled or not with a trained intellectual recognition of the highly abstract and elaborate nature of the laws of the relation, succession and combinations of sounds on which the effect depends, that has caused some thinkers, with Schopenhauer at their head, to find in music the nearest approach we have to a voice from behind the veil, a universal voice expressing the central purpose and deepest essence of things, unconfused by fleeting actualities or by the distracting duty of calling up images of particular and perishable phenomena. “Music,” in Schopenhauer’s own words, “reveals the innermost essential being of the world, and expresses the highest wisdom in a language the reason does not understand.”

But isn’t it true that instrumental music sometimes really imitates the sounds of nature, like birds chirping, trees rustling, storms raging, or thunder booming? Or at least, doesn’t it suggest these things through similarities so close that they nearly count as imitation? It's true that music occasionally takes playful detours into a kind of imitation or mimicry. It transforms its abstract sounds into something more concrete, giving us sensations that clearly resemble those we get from natural sounds. However, these detours can be risky, and making them too often is a sure sign of a lack of sophistication in a musician. Also, the great composers' ability to evoke specific natural phenomena is usually not about real imitations or representations. Although there are exceptions, like the dove and nightingale in Haydn’s Creation, the cuckoo in Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony, and the bleating of sheep in Richard Strauss’s Don Quixote symphony, these are not the norm. Furthermore, it’s widely acknowledged that when listeners try to put the effects of instrumental music into words, they can generally agree on the emotional meaning of a passage as long as they describe it in vague terms. They might say that a certain passage expresses feelings like sadness or triumph, effort or relaxation, eagerness or fatigue, suspense or fulfillment, anguish or joy. But their agreement fades once they start linking these vague emotions to specific ideas; one listener might interpret a piece as reflecting the ups and downs of war, while another might see it as expressing the complexities of love, or perhaps spiritual longing and aspiration, the adventures of travel through forests, fields, and oceans, or the struggles and ambitions of life. The vast range of ideas that can be inspired in different minds by the same piece of music shows that the music isn’t like anything particular. The flood of varied and captivating emotions it stirs within us, emotions dormant and unrecognized until the music begins, is music’s true achievement and mystery. This effect, whether or not it comes with an understanding of the complex and abstract principles governing the relationships, sequences, and combinations of sounds on which it relies, has led some thinkers, notably Schopenhauer, to view music as the closest thing we have to a voice from beyond the veil—a universal expression of the core purpose and essence of existence, uncluttered by temporary realities or the distracting task of evoking specific, fleeting phenomena. “Music,” in Schopenhauer’s own words, “reveals the innermost essential being of the world and expresses the highest wisdom in a language that reason cannot comprehend.”

Aristotle endeavoured to frame a classification of the arts, in their several applications and developments, on two grounds—the nature of the objects imitated by each, and the means or instruments employed in the imitation. But in the case of Definition of music. music, as it exists in the modern world, the first part of this endeavour falls to the ground, because the object imitated has, in the sense in which we now use the word imitation, no existence. The means employed by music are successions and combinations of vocal or instrumental sounds regulated according to the three conditions of time and pitch (which together make up melody) and harmony, or the relations of different strains of time and tone cooperant but not parallel. With these means, music either creates her independent constructions, or else accompanies, adorns, enforces the imitative art of speech—but herself imitates not; and may be best defined simply as a speaking or time art, of which the business is to express and arouse emotion by successions and combinations of regulated sound.

Aristotle tried to create a classification of the arts based on two factors: the nature of the objects each art imitates and the methods or tools used for that imitation. However, when it comes to music as we understand it today, the first part of this effort doesn’t hold up because the object of imitation doesn’t actually exist in the way we currently think of imitation. The tools of music are sequences and combinations of vocal or instrumental sounds, organized according to the three aspects of time and pitch (which together create melody) and harmony, meaning the relationships between different rhythms and tones that work together but not in a parallel way. With these tools, music can either create its own unique pieces or complement, enhance, or emphasize the art of spoken language; however, it doesn’t imitate anything itself and is best defined simply as a speaking or time art, of which the business is to express and arouse emotion by successions and combinations of regulated sound.

That which music is thus among the speaking or time-arts, architecture is among the shaping or space-arts. As music appeals to our faculties for taking pleasure in non-imitative combinations of transitory sound, so architecture appeals Non-imitative character of architecture. to our faculties for taking pleasure in non-imitative combinations of stationary mass. Corresponding to the system of ear-effects or combinations of time, tone and harmony with which music works, architecture works with a system of eye-effects or combinations of mass, contour, light and shade; colour, proportion, interval, alternation of plain and decorated parts, regularity and variety in regularity, apparent stability, vastness, appropriateness and the rest. Only the materials of architecture are not volatile and intangible like sound, but solid timber, brick, stone, metal and mortar, and the laws of weight and force according to which these materials have to be combined are much more severe and cramping than the laws of melody and harmony which regulate the combinations of music. The architect is further subject, unlike the musician, to the dictates and precise prescriptions of utility. Even in structures raised for purposes not of everyday use and necessity, but of commemoration or worship, the rules for such commemoration and such worship have prescribed a more or less fixed arrangement and proportion of the parts or members, whether in the Egyptian temple or temple-tomb, the Greek temple or herōon, or in the churches of the middle ages and Renaissance in the West.

Music, in its role among the verbal or time-based arts, is akin to how architecture functions among the visual or space-based arts. Just as music engages our enjoyment of unique combinations of fleeting sounds, architecture engages our appreciation for unique combinations of solid forms. Relating to how music operates through a system of auditory effects—time, tone, and harmony—architecture works with a system of visual effects involving mass, shape, light and shadow; color, proportion, spacing, variation between simple and ornate elements, consistency, diversity within that consistency, apparent stability, vastness, relevance, and more. However, the materials used in architecture are not fleeting and intangible like sound; they are solid—wood, brick, stone, metal, and mortar. Additionally, the physical laws of weight and force that govern how these materials must be put together are much more stringent and limiting than the melodic and harmonic principles that dictate music. Unlike musicians, architects must also adhere to the requirements and specific needs of practicality. Even in buildings designed for purposes beyond daily use—such as commemoration or worship—the guidelines for such purposes have dictated a more or less fixed arrangement and proportions of the various elements, whether in Egyptian temples or temple-tombs, Greek temples or herōons, or in the churches of the Middle Ages and Renaissance in the West.

Hence the effects of architecture are necessarily less full of various, rapturous and unforeseen enchantment than the effects of music. Yet for those who possess sensibility to the pleasures of the eye and the perfections of shaping art, the architecture Analogies of architecture and music. of the great ages has yielded combinations which, so far as comparison is permissible between things unlike in their materials, fall little short of the achievements of music in those kinds of excellence which are common to them both. In the virtues of lucidity, of just proportion and organic interdependence of the several parts or members, in the mathematic subtlety of their mutual relations, and of the transitions from one part or member to another, in purity and finish of individual forms, in the character of one thing growing naturally out of another and everything serving to complete the whole—in these qualities, no musical combination can well surpass a typical Doric temple such as the Parthenon at Athens. None, again, can well surpass some of the great cathedrals of the middle ages in the qualities of sublimity, of complexity, in the power both of expressing and suggesting spiritual aspiration, in the invention of intricate developments and ramifications about a central plan, in the union of majesty in the main conception with fertility of adornment in detail. In fancifulness, in the unexpected, in capricious and far-sought opulence, in filling the mind with mingled enchantments of east and west and south and north, music can hardly do more than a building like St Mark’s at Venice does with its blending of Byzantine elements, Italian elements, Gothic elements, each carried to the utmost pitch of elaboration and each enriched with a hundred caprices of ornament, but all working together, all in obedience to a law, and “all beginning and ending with the Cross.”

Therefore, the impact of architecture is naturally less filled with various, thrilling, and unexpected magic than the impact of music. However, for those who are sensitive to the visual delights and the perfection of artistic design, the architecture from great eras has produced combinations that, as far as comparisons are allowed between dissimilar materials, come close to the achievements of music in those qualities they share. In terms of clarity, appropriate proportion, and the organic relationship of different parts, as well as the mathematical intricacies of their interactions, the transitions between parts, the purity and refinement of individual forms, and the natural growth of one element from another while contributing to the whole—no musical arrangement can easily surpass a classic Doric temple like the Parthenon in Athens. Similarly, none can quite match some of the grand cathedrals of the Middle Ages in qualities like grandeur, complexity, the ability to express and evoke spiritual longing, the creation of intricate designs stemming from a central plan, and the combination of majesty in the main idea with detailed richness. In terms of imagination, the unexpected, whimsical and lavish designs, and in creating a mix of enchanting elements from the east, west, south, and north, music can hardly achieve more than a building like St. Mark’s in Venice does with its fusion of Byzantine, Italian, and Gothic styles, each pushed to the highest level of detail and embellished with countless decorative whims, yet all working in harmony, all adhering to a guiding principle, and “all beginning and ending with the Cross.”

In the case of architecture, however, as in the case of music, the non-imitative character must not be stated quite without exception or reserve. There have been styles of architecture in which forms suggesting or imitating natural or other Exceptional and limited admission of imitative forms in architecture. phenomena have held a place among the abstract forms proper to the art. Often the mode of such suggestions is rather symbolical to the mind than really imitative to the eye; as when the number and relations of the heavenly planets were imaged by that race of astronomers, the Babylonians, in the seven concentric walls of their great temple, and in many other architectural constructions; or as when the shape of the cross was adopted, with innumerable slight varieties and modifications, for the ground plan of the churches of Christendom. Passing to examples of imitation more properly so called, it may be true, and was, at any rate, long believed, that the aisles of Gothic churches, when once the use of the pointed arch had been evolved as a principle of construction, were partly designed to evoke the idea of the natural aisles of the forest, and that the upsoaring 364 forest trunks and meeting branches were more or less consciously imaged in their piers and vaultings. In the temple-palaces of Egypt, one of the regular architectural members, the sustaining pier, is often systematically wrought in the actual likeness of a conventionalized cluster of lotus stems, with lotus flowers for the capital. When we come to the fashion, not rare in Greek architecture, of carving this same sustaining member, the column, in complete human likeness, and employing caryatids, canephori, atlases or the like, to support the entablature of a building, it then becomes difficult to say whether we have to do with a work of architecture or of sculpture. The case, at any rate, is different from that in which the sculptor is called in to supply surface decoration to the various members of a building, or to fill with the products of his own art spaces in the building specially contrived and left vacant for that purpose. When the imitative feature is in itself an indispensable member of the architectural construction, to architecture rather than sculpture we shall probably do best to assign it.

In architecture, just like in music, the non-imitative nature shouldn't be mentioned without some exceptions. Throughout history, there have been architectural styles where forms that suggest or imitate natural or other phenomena were part of the abstract forms that define the art. Often, these suggestions are more symbolic in thought than truly imitative in appearance. For instance, the Babylonians represented the number and arrangement of celestial bodies with the seven concentric walls of their grand temple and in other architectural designs. Similarly, the shape of the cross was adopted, with countless slight variations, for the floor plans of churches across Christendom. Looking at more direct forms of imitation, it was once widely believed that the aisles of Gothic churches, once the pointed arch became a construction principle, were partly designed to evoke the idea of natural forest aisles. The soaring trunks and intertwining branches of trees were more or less consciously represented in their pillars and vaults. In the temple-palaces of Egypt, a common architectural feature, the supporting pier, is often crafted to resemble a stylized cluster of lotus stems, complete with lotus flowers at the top. When we consider the practice, which was not uncommon in Greek architecture, of carving the supporting column to look like a human figure and using caryatids, canephori, atlases, or similar figures to support a building's entablature, it becomes challenging to determine whether it’s a work of architecture or sculpture. This situation is distinct from when a sculptor is brought in to add surface decoration to various parts of a building or to fill designated empty spaces with their art. When the imitative aspect is an essential part of the architectural structure itself, it’s probably best to attribute it to architecture rather than to sculpture.

Defining architecture, then (apart from its utility, which for the present we leave out of consideration), as a shaping art, of which the Definition of architecture. function is to express and arouse emotion by combinations of ordered and decorated mass, we pass from the characteristics of the non-imitative to those of the imitative group of arts, namely sculpture, painting and poetry.

Defining architecture, then (aside from its usefulness, which we'll put aside for now), as a shaping art, whose function is to express and evoke emotion through combinations of structured and embellished forms, we move from the traits of the non-representational to those of the representational art group, specifically sculpture, painting, and poetry.

If we keep in mind the source and origin of these arts, we must remember what has already been observed, that they spring by no means from man’s love of imitation alone, but from his desire to record and commemorate experience, using the The imitative arts are arts of record using imitation as their means. faculty of imitation as his means. Mnemosyne (Memory) was in Greek tradition the mother of the Muses; imitation, in the sense above defined, is but their instrument. Hence we might think “arts of record” a better name for this group than arts of imitation. The answer is—but a large part of pure architecture is also commemorative; from the pyramids and obelisks of Egypt down there are many monuments in which the impulse of men to perpetuate their own or others’ memories has worked without any aid of imitation. Hence as the definition of a class of arts contrasted with architecture and music the name “arts of record” would fail; and we have to fall back on the current and established name of the “imitative arts.” In considering them we cannot do better than follow that Aristotelian division which describes each art according, first, to the objects which it imitates, and, secondly, to the means it employs.

If we consider the source and origin of these arts, we should remember what has already been pointed out: they don't come solely from man's love of imitation, but from his desire to document and preserve experiences, using theThe imitative arts are forms of art that use imitation as their method of creation. ability to imitate as his tool. In Greek tradition, Mnemosyne (Memory) was the mother of the Muses; imitation, as defined above, is simply their instrument. So, we might think "arts of record" is a better name for this category than "arts of imitation." However, a significant part of pure architecture is also commemorative; from the pyramids and obelisks of Egypt onward, there are many monuments where the impulse to preserve one’s own or others’ memories has occurred without any use of imitation. Therefore, as a definition for a category of arts compared to architecture and music, "arts of record" would not suffice; we have to revert to the established term "imitative arts." When examining them, the best approach is to follow the Aristotelian division that categorizes each art according to, first, the objects it imitates, and, second, the means it employs.

Taking sculpture first, as imitating a smaller range of objects than the other two, and imitating them more completely: sculpture may have for the objects of its imitation the shapes of whatever things possess length, breadth and magnitude. For its Sculpture as an imitative art. means or instruments it has solid form, which the sculptor either carves out of a hard substance, as in the case of wood and stone, or models in a yielding substance, as in the case of clay and wax, or casts in a dissolved or molten substance, as in the case of plaster and of metal in certain uses, or beats, draws or chases in a malleable and ductile substance, as in the case of metal in other uses, or stamps from dies or moulds, a method sometimes used in all soft or fusible materials. Thus a statue or statuette may either be carved straight out of a block of stone or wood, or first modelled in clay or wax, then moulded in plaster or some equivalent material, and then carved in stone or cast in bronze. A gem is wrought in stone by cutting and grinding. Figures in jeweller’s work are wrought by beating and chasing; a medallion by beating and chasing or else by stamping from a die; a coin by stamping from a die; and so forth. The process of modelling (Gr. πλάττειν) in a soft substance being regarded as the typical process of the sculptor, the name plastic art has been given to his operations in general.

Taking sculpture first, since it imitates a smaller range of objects than the other two forms and does so more completely: sculpture can imitate the shapes of any objects that have length, width, and volume. For its Sculpture as representational art. tools or materials, it has solid form, which the sculptor either carves from a hard substance, like wood or stone, or shapes in a soft substance, like clay or wax, or casts in a liquid or melted substance, such as plaster or certain metals, or works in a malleable and flexible substance, like other types of metal, or stamps from molds, which is a technique sometimes used with all soft or fusible materials. Therefore, a statue or statuette can either be carved directly from a block of stone or wood, or initially shaped in clay or wax, then molded in plaster or a similar material, and finally carved from stone or cast in bronze. A gem is created by cutting and grinding stone. Figures in jewelry are made by beating and chasing; a medallion is made by either beating and chasing or by stamping from a die; a coin is also made by stamping from a die, and so on. The process of modeling (Gr. πλάττειν) in a soft substance is considered the typical technique of the sculptor, and thus the term plastic art has been applied to his work in general.

In general terms, the task of sculpture is to imitate solid form with solid form. But sculptured form may be either completely or incompletely solid. Sculpture in completely solid form exactly reproduces, whether on the original or on a different Sculpture in the round and in relief. scale, the relations or proportions of the object imitated in the three dimensions of length, breadth and depth or thickness. Sculpture in incompletely solid form reproduces the proportions of the objects with exactness only so far as concerns two of its dimensions, namely, those of length and breadth; while the third dimension, that of depth or thickness, it reproduces in a diminished proportion, leaving it to the eye to infer, from the partial degree of projection given to the work, the full projection of the object imitated. The former, or completely solid kind of sculpture, is called sculpture in the round; its works stand free, and can be walked round and seen from all points. The latter, or incompletely solid kind of sculpture, is called sculpture in relief; its works do not stand free, but are engaged in or attached to a background, and can only be seen from in front. According, in the latter kind of sculpture, to its degree of projection from the background, a work is said to be in high or in low relief. Sculpture in the round and sculpture in relief are alike in this, that the properties of objects which they imitate are their external forms as defined by their outlines—that is, by the boundaries and circumscriptions of their masses—and their light and shade—the lights and shadows, that is, which diversify the curved surfaces of the masses in consequence of their alternations and gradations of projection and recession. But the two kinds of sculpture differ in this. A work of sculpture in the round imitates the whole of the outlines by which the object imitated is circumscribed in the three dimensions of space, and presents to the eye, as the object itself would do, a new outline succeeding the last every moment as you walk round it. Whereas a work of sculpture in relief imitates only one outline of any object; it takes, so to speak, a section of the object as seen from a particular point, and traces on the background the boundary-line of that particular section, merely suggesting, by modelling the surface within such boundary according to a regular, but a diminished, ratio of projection, the other outlines which the object would present if seen from all sides successively.

In simple terms, the job of sculpture is to replicate solid form with solid form. However, a sculptured form can be either fully solid or partially solid. Fully solid sculpture accurately reproduces, whether at the original size or a different scale, the proportions of the object it imitates in three dimensions: length, width, and depth. Partially solid sculpture reproduces the proportions of the objects accurately in two dimensions—length and width—while the third dimension, depth or thickness, is scaled down. It relies on the viewer to infer the full depth of the object based on how much it projects from the background. The fully solid type of sculpture is called sculpture in the round; its pieces stand freely, allowing people to walk around them and view them from all angles. The partially solid type is known as sculpture in relief; these pieces are attached to a background and can only be seen from the front. In this type of sculpture, based on how much it projects from the background, a piece can be classified as high or low relief. Both sculpture in the round and relief capture the external forms of objects as defined by their outlines and their light and shadow—the interplay of light and darkness that highlights the curves of the forms due to their varying projections. However, they differ in a significant way. Sculpture in the round captures all the outlines that define the object in three-dimensional space, presenting new outlines to the viewer as they move around it. In contrast, sculpture in relief captures only one outline of an object; it takes a “slice” of the object from a specific viewpoint and traces that outline on the background, suggesting, through modeling the surface within that outline using a reduced ratio of projection, the other outlines that the object would show if viewed from all sides.

As sculpture in the round reproduces the real relations of a solid object in space, it follows that the only kind of object which it can reproduce with pleasurable effect according to the laws of regulated or rhythmical design must be one not too Subjects proper for sculpture in the round. vast or complicated, one that can afford to be detached and isolated from its surroundings, and of which all the parts can easily be perceived and apprehended in their organic relations. Further, it will need to be an object interesting enough to mankind in general to make them take delight in seeing it reproduced with all its parts in complete imitation. And again, it must be such that some considerable part of the interest lies in those particular properties of outline, play of surface, and light and shade which it is the special function of sculpture to reproduce. Thus a sculptured representation in the round, say, of a mountain with cities on it, would hardly be a sculpture at all; it could only be a model, and as a model might have value; but value as a work of fine art it could not have, because the object imitated would lack organic definiteness and completeness; it would lack universality of interest, and of the interest which it did possess, a very inconsiderable part would depend upon its properties of outline, surface, and light and shade. Obviously there is no kind of object in the world that so well unites the required conditions for pleasurable imitation in sculpture as the human body. It is at once the most complete of organisms, and the shape of all others the most subtle as well as the most intelligible in its outlines; the most habitually detached in active or stationary freedom; the most interesting to mankind, because its own; the richest in those particular effects, contours and modulations, contrasts, harmonies and transitions of modelled surface and circumscribing line, which it is the prerogative of sculpture to imitate. Accordingly the object of imitation for this art is pre-eminently the body of man or woman. That it has not been for the sake of representing men and women as such, but for the sake of representing gods in the likeness of men and women, that the human form has been most enthusiastically studied, does not affect this fact in the theory of the art, though it is a consideration of great importance in its history. Besides the human form, sculpture may imitate the forms of those of the lower animals whose physical endowments have something of a kindred perfection, with other natural or artificial objects as may be needed merely by way of accessory or symbol. The body must for the purposes of this art be divested of covering, or covered only with such tissues as reveal, translate or play about without concealing it. Chiefly in lands and ages where climate and social use have given the sculptor the opportunity of studying human forms so draped or undraped has this art attained perfection, and become exemplary and enviable to that of other races.

As three-dimensional sculpture captures the real relationships of a solid object in space, it follows that the only type of object it can effectively reproduce according to the principles of regulated or rhythmic design must not be too large or complex. It should be able to stand out and be isolated from its surroundings, with all its parts easily perceived and understood in their organic connections. Additionally, it needs to be interesting enough to attract people's attention so they take pleasure in seeing it represented with all its parts accurately mimicked. It also must have qualities where a significant part of the interest lies in its specific characteristics of outline, surface texture, and light and shadow, which are key to what sculpture does best. For instance, a sculpted representation of a mountain with cities on it wouldn't really count as sculpture; it might be a model, which could hold some value, but as a fine art piece, it wouldn't work because the object being imitated would lack clear definiteness and wholeness. It would also lack universal appeal, and of the appeal it did have, very little would rely on its outline, surface, and light and shade properties. Clearly, there's no other kind of object that meets the criteria for pleasing imitation in sculpture quite like the human body. It's the most complete organism, with contours that are both subtle and easily understood; it's often separate in active or passive freedom; it intrigues humanity the most since it's our own; and it's rich in the effects, contours, variations, contrasts, harmonies, and transitions of modeled surfaces and surrounding lines that sculpture excels at replicating. As a result, the subject of this art is primarily the body of a man or woman. Although the motivation for studying the human form has often been to represent gods in human likeness rather than depicting men and women themselves, this doesn't change the theory of the art, though it's a significant factor in its historical context. Besides the human form, sculpture might also represent the shapes of lower animals that share some perfection in their physical traits, along with other natural or artificial objects as needed as accessories or symbols. For the purposes of this art, the body should be free of clothing or draped only in such materials that reveal or accentuate it without hiding it. This art has mostly reached perfection in times and places where climate and social customs have allowed sculptors to study human bodies, draped or undraped, making it exemplary and admirable to other cultures.

Relief sculpture is more closely connected with architecture than the other kind, and indeed is commonly used in subordination to it. But if its task is thus somewhat different from that of sculpture in the round, its principal objects of imitation Subjects proper for sculpture in relief. are the same. The human body remains the principal theme of the sculptor in relief; but the nature of his art allows, and sometimes compels, him to include other objects in the range of his imitation. As he has not to represent the real depth or projection of things, but only to suggest them according to a ratio which he may fix himself, so he can introduce into the third or depth dimension, thus arbitrarily reduced, a multitude of objects for which the sculptor in the round, having to observe the real ratio of the three dimensions, has no room. He cam place one figure in slightly raised outline emerging from behind the more fully raised outline of another, and by the same system can add to his representation rocks, trees, nay mountains and cities and birds on the wing. But the more he uses this liberty the less will he be truly a sculptor. Solid modelling, and real light and shade, are the special means or instrument of effect which the sculptor alone among imitative artists enjoys. Single outlines and contours, the choice of one particular section and the tracing of its circumscription, are means which the sculptor enjoys in common with the painter or draughtsman. And indeed, when we consider works executed wholly or in part in very low relief, whether Assyrian battle-pieces and hunting-pieces in alabaster or bronze, or the backgrounds carved in bronze, marble or wood by the Italian sculptors who followed the example set by Ghiberti at the Renaissance, we shall see that the principle of such work is not the principle of sculpture at all. Its effect depends little on qualities of surface-light and shadow, and mainly on qualities of contour, as traced by a slight line of shadow on the side away from the light, and a slight line of light on the side next to it. And we may fairly hesitate whether we shall rank the artist who works on this principle, which 365 is properly a graphic rather than a plastic principle, among sculptors or among draughtsmen. The above are cases in which the relief sculptor exercises his liberty in the introduction of other objects besides human figures into his sculptured compositions. But there is another kind of relief sculpture in which the artist has less choice. That is, the kind in which the sculptor is called in to decorate with carved work parts of an architectural construction which are not adapted for the introduction of figure subjects, or for their introduction only as features in a scheme of ornament that comprises many other elements. To this head belongs most of the carving of capitals, mouldings, friezes (except the friezes of Greek temples), bands, cornices, and, in the Gothic style, of doorway arches, niches, canopies, pinnacles, brackets, spandrels and the thousand members and parts of members which that style so exquisitely adorned with true or conventionalized imitations of natural forms. This is no doubt a subordinate function of the art; and it is impossible, as we have seen already, to find a precise line of demarcation between carving, in this decorative use, which is properly sculpture, and that which belongs properly to architecture.

Relief sculpture is more closely linked to architecture than other types, and it's often used to complement it. While its role is somewhat different from that of sculpture in the round, its main subjects of imitation are the same. The human body remains the main focus for relief sculptors, but the nature of this art form allows, and sometimes requires, them to include various other objects in their work. Since they don’t have to depict realistic depth or projection, but rather suggest them based on a scale they can determine, they can incorporate many objects into the reduced third dimension that a sculptor in the round cannot fit in due to needing to adhere to the actual proportions. They can place one figure with a slightly raised outline emerging from behind another figure that is more prominently raised, and this technique can lead to the addition of rocks, trees, and even mountains, cities, and birds in flight. However, the more they use this freedom, the less they embody the true essence of a sculptor. Solid modeling and genuine light and shadow are special tools of effect that only sculptors among imitators truly possess. Single outlines and contours, focusing on one specific slice and marking its edges, are techniques that sculptors share with painters and draftsmen. In fact, when we examine works done entirely or partially in very low relief, like Assyrian battle scenes and hunting scenes in alabaster or bronze, or backgrounds carved out of bronze, marble, or wood by Italian sculptors following Ghiberti’s example during the Renaissance, we’ll see that the principle behind such works isn’t sculptural at all. Their effect relies less on qualities of surface light and shadow and more on contours, marked by a slight shadow line on the side away from the light, and a slight light line on the side facing it. We might fairly question whether to classify the artist who operates on this principle, which is more graphic than plastic, among sculptors or draftsmen. These are instances where the relief sculptor has the freedom to add other objects beyond human figures into their compositions. However, there’s another type of relief sculpture where the artist has less flexibility. This type involves the sculptor being called upon to decorate architectural elements that aren’t suited for human figures or only allow them as part of a broader ornamental scheme. This category includes most of the carving seen on capitals, moldings, friezes (except those of Greek temples), bands, cornices, and in the Gothic style, doorway arches, niches, canopies, pinnacles, brackets, spandrels, and the countless components that style beautifully adorned with true or stylized imitations of natural forms. This is certainly a secondary function of the art; as we’ve already noted, it is challenging to draw a clear line between this decorative carving, which is properly sculpture, and that which is primarily in the realm of architecture.

Leaving such discussions, we may content ourselves with the definition of sculpture as Definition of sculpture. a shaping art, of which the business is to express and arouse emotion by the imitation of natural objects, and principally the human body, in solid form, reproducing either their true proportions in three dimensions, or their proportions in the two dimensions of length and breadth only, with a diminished proportion in the third dimension of depth or thickness.

Leaving such discussions, we can be satisfied with the definition of sculpture as Definition of sculpture. a form of art that shapes to express and evoke emotions through the imitation of natural objects, primarily the human body, in solid form, either capturing their true proportions in three dimensions, or their proportions in just length and width, with a reduced proportion in the third dimension of depth or thickness.

In considering bas-relief as a form of sculpture, we have found ourselves approaching the confines of the second of the shaping imitative arts, the graphic art or art of painting. Painting, as to its means or instruments of imitation, dispenses Painting as an imitative art. with the third dimension altogether. It imitates natural objects by representing them as they are represented on the retina of the eye itself, simply as an assemblage of variously shaped and variously shaded patches of colour on a flat surface. Painting does not reproduce the third dimension of reality by any third dimension of its own whatever; but leaves the eye to infer the solidity of objects, their recession and projection, their nearness and remoteness, by the same perspective signs by which it also infers those facts in nature, namely, by the direction of their several boundary lines, the incidence and distribution of their lights and shadows, the strength or faintness of their tones of colour.

When we think about bas-relief as a type of sculpture, we find ourselves nearing the limits of the second imitative art, which is graphic art or painting. Painting, in terms of its methods or tools of imitation, completely forgoes the third dimension. It imitates natural objects by showing them as they appear on our retinas, as just a collection of differently shaped and shaded patches of color on a flat surface. Painting doesn’t recreate the third dimension of reality through any dimension of its own; instead, it relies on the eye to deduce the solidity of objects, their depth and projection, as well as their closeness and distance, using the same perspective cues that help us understand these aspects in nature—specifically, the angles of their edges, the way light and shadow are distributed, and the intensity or subtlety of their color tones.

Hence this art has an infinitely greater range and freedom than any form of sculpture. Near and far is all the same to it, and whatever comes into the field of vision can come also into the field of a picture; trees as well as persons, and Range of objects imitable by painting. clouds as well as trees, and stars as well as clouds; the remotest mountain snows, as well as the violet of the foreground, and far-off multitudes of people as well as one or two near the eye. Whatever any man has seen, or can imagine himself as seeing, that he can also fix by painting, subject only to one great limitation,—that of the range of brightness which he is able to attain in imitating natural colour illuminated by light. In this particular his art can but correspond according to a greatly diminished ratio with the effects of nature. But excepting this it can do for the eye almost all that nature herself does; or at least all that nature would do if man had only one eye since the three dimensions of space produce upon our binocular machinery of vision a particular stereoscopic effect of which a picture, with its two dimensions only, is incapable. The range of the art being thus almost unbounded, its selections have naturally been dictated by the varying interest felt in this or that subject of representation by the societies among whom the art has at various times been practised. As in sculpture, so in painting, the human form has always held the first place. For the painter, the intervention of costume between man and his environment is not a misfortune in the same degree as it is for the sculptor. For him, clothes of whatever fashion or amplitude have their own charm; they serve to diversify the aspect of the world, and to express the characters and stations, if not the physical frames, of his personages; and he is as happy or happier among the brocades of Venice as among the bare limbs of the Spartan palaestra. Along with man, there come into painting all animals and vegetation, all man’s furniture and belongings, his dwelling-places, fields and landscape; and in modern times also landscape and nature for their own sakes, skies, seas, mountains and wildernesses apart from man.

Hence, this art has a much greater range and freedom than any type of sculpture. Near and far are the same to it, and anything that appears in the field of vision can also be included in a picture; trees as well as people, clouds as well as trees, and stars as well as clouds; the furthest mountain snows, as well as the violet in the foreground, and distant crowds just as easily as one or two figures close up. Anything a person has seen or can imagine seeing can also be captured through painting, with just one major limitation— the range of brightness that can be achieved in mimicking natural colors illuminated by light. In this aspect, the art can only match nature's effects to a greatly reduced degree. But aside from this, it can do almost everything for the eye that nature does herself; or at least all that nature would do if a person had only one eye since the three dimensions of space create a specific stereoscopic effect on our binocular vision that a two-dimensional picture can't replicate. With such a vast range, the choices in art have naturally been influenced by the varying interests in different subjects by the societies that have practiced it at various times. Just like in sculpture, the human figure has always been the primary focus in painting. For the painter, the presence of clothing between a person and their environment isn't as much of a drawback as it is for the sculptor. For the painter, garments of any style or shape have their own appeal; they add diversity to the world and express the characters and social statuses, if not the physical forms, of their subjects. He is just as happy, or even happier, among the brocades of Venice as he is among the bare limbs of Spartan athletes. In painting, alongside humans come all animals and plants, all of man's furniture and possessions, his homes, fields, and landscapes; and in modern times, landscapes and nature for their own sake—skies, seas, mountains, and wilderness separate from humanity.

Besides the two questions about any art, what objects does it imitate, and by the use of what means or instruments, Aristotle proposes (in the case of poetry) the further question, which of several possible forms does the imitation in any The chief forms or modes of painting: line, light-and-shade and colour. given case assume? We may transfer very nearly the same inquiry to painting, and may ask, concerning any painter, according to which of three possible systems he works. The three possible systems are (1) that which attends principally to the configuration and relations of natural objects as indicated by the direction of their boundaries, for defining which there is a convention in universal use, the convention, that is, of line; this may be called for short the system of line; (2) that which attends chiefly to their configuration and relations as indicated by the incidence and distribution of their lights and shadows—this is the system of light-and-shade or chiaroscuro; and (3) that which attends chiefly, not to their configuration at all, but to the distribution, qualities and relations of local colours upon their surface—this is the system of colour. It is not possible for a painter to imitate natural objects to the eye at all without either defining their boundaries by outlines, or suggesting the shape of their masses by juxtapositions of light and dark or of local colours. In the complete art of painting, of course, all three methods are employed at once. But in what is known as outline drawing and outline engraving, one of the three methods only is employed, line; in monochrome pictures, and in shaded drawings and engravings, two only, line with light-and-shade; and in the various shadeless forms of decorative painting and colour-printing, two only, line with colour. Even in the most accomplished examples of the complete art of painting, as was pointed out by Ruskin, we find that there almost always prevails a predilection for some one of these three parts of painting over the other two. Thus among the mature Italians of the Renaissance, Titian is above all things a painter in colour, Michelangelo in line, Leonardo in light-and-shade. Many academic painters in their day tried to combine the three methods in equal balance; to the impetuous spirit of the great Venetian, Tintoretto, it was alone given to make the attempt with a great measure of success. A great part of the effort of modern painting has been to get rid of the linear convention altogether, to banish line and develop the resources of the oil medium in imitating on canvas, more strictly than the early masters attempted, the actual appearance of things on the retina as an assemblage of coloured streaks and patches modified and toned in the play of light-and-shade and atmosphere.

Besides the two questions about any art, what objects does it imitate, and what means or tools does it use, Aristotle suggests (in the case of poetry) an additional question: which of the several possible forms does the imitation take in each specific instance? We can apply a similar inquiry to painting and ask, regarding any painter, which of three possible systems they follow. The three systems are (1) the one that focuses primarily on the shape and relationships of natural objects as represented by the direction of their edges, defined by a commonly understood method called line; this is the system of line; (2) the one that focuses mainly on the shape and relationships of objects as shown by the interplay and placement of light and shadows—this is the system of light-and-shade or chiaroscuro; and (3) the one that concentrates not on their shape at all, but on the distribution, qualities, and relationships of local colors on their surface—this is the system of colour. A painter cannot imitate natural objects visually without either outlining their edges or suggesting the form of their mass through contrasts of light and dark or local colors. In the complete art of painting, all three methods are used simultaneously. However, in what is known as outline drawing and engraving, only one method is used, line; in monochrome pictures and shaded drawings and engravings, two methods are employed, line with light-and-shade; and in various flat forms of decorative painting and color printing, two methods are also used, line with color. Even in the most skillful examples of complete painting, as pointed out by Ruskin, there is often a preference for one of these three aspects over the others. For instance, among the mature Italian painters of the Renaissance, Titian is primarily a colorist, Michelangelo focuses on line, and Leonardo excels in light-and-shade. Many academic painters attempted to balance all three methods equally; however, it was the dynamic spirit of the great Venetian, Tintoretto, who successfully made that attempt. A significant part of modern painting has aimed to completely eliminate linear conventions, to banish line and develop the capabilities of oil paint to replicate on canvas, more accurately than early masters, the actual appearance of objects on the retina as a collection of color streaks and patches shaped and toned by light, shadow, and atmosphere.

It remains to consider, for the purpose of our classification, what are the technical varieties of the painter’s craft. Since we gave the generic name of painting to all imitation of natural objects by the assemblage of lines, colours and lights and darks Technical varieties of the painter’s craft. on a single plane, we must logically include as varieties of painting not only the ordinary crafts of spreading or laying pictures on an opaque surface in fresco, oil, distemper or water-colour, but also the craft of arranging a picture to be seen by the transmission of light through a transparent substance, in glass painting; the craft of fitting together a multitude of solid cubes or cylinders so that their united surface forms a picture to the eye, as in mosaic; the craft of spreading vitreous colours in a state of fusion so that they form a picture when hardened, as in enamel; and even, it would seem, the crafts of weaving, tapestry, and embroidery, since these also yield to the eye a plane surface figured in imitation of nature. As drawing we must also count incised or engraved work of all kinds representing merely the outlines of objects and not their modellings, as for instance the graffiti on Greek and Etruscan mirror-backs and dressing-cases; while raised work in low relief, in which outlines are plainly marked and modellings neglected, furnishes, as we have seen, a doubtful class between sculpture and painting. In all figures that are first modelled in the solid and then variously coloured, sculpture and painting bear a common share; and by far the greater part both of ancient and medieval statuary was in fact tinted so as to imitate or at least suggest the colours of life. But as the special characteristic of sculpture, solidity in the third dimension, is in these cases present, it is to that art and not to painting that we shall still ascribe the resulting work.

It’s important to consider, for the sake of our classification, what the technical types of painting are. Since we refer to painting as any imitation of natural objects through the arrangement of lines, colors, and lights and darks on a single plane, we must logically include as forms of painting not just the common methods of applying images to a solid surface in fresco, oil, tempera, or watercolor, but also the method of creating a picture visible through light passing through a transparent medium, like glass painting; the technique of assembling various solid shapes, like cubes or cylinders, to form an image to the eye, as seen in mosaic; the process of spreading glass colors in a molten state that create an image when hardened, like in enamel; and even possibly the crafts of weaving, tapestry, and embroidery, since these also produce a flat surface that mimics nature. We should also include in drawing any incised or engraved work that represents only the outlines of objects and not their shapes, such as the graffiti on Greek and Etruscan mirror backs and dressing cases; while low relief work, where outlines are clear but shapes are neglected, presents a blurry category between sculpture and painting. In figures that are first sculpted in solid form and then colored in various ways, both sculpture and painting play a role; and a significant portion of both ancient and medieval statues was indeed painted to imitate or at least suggest lifelike colors. However, since the defining feature of sculpture—solidity in three dimensions—is present in these situations, we will attribute the resulting work to sculpture and not painting.

With these indications we may leave the art of painting defined in general terms as a Definition of painting. shaping or space art, of which the business is to express and arouse emotion by the imitation of all kinds of natural objects, reproducing on a plane surface the relations of their boundary lines, lights and shadows, or colours, or all three of these appearances together.

With these points in mind, we can generally define the art of painting as a Definition of painting. form of spatial art that aims to express and evoke emotions by imitating various natural objects, recreating on a flat surface the relationships of their outlines, light and shadow, colors, or all three of these aspects combined.

The next and last of the imitative arts is the speaking art of poetry. The transition from sculpture and painting to poetry is, from the point of view not of our present but of our first division among the fine arts, abrupt and absolute. It is a transition Poetry as an imitative art. from space into time, from the sphere of material forms to the sphere of immaterial images. Following Aristotle’s method, we may define the objects of poetry’s imitation or evocation, as everything of which the idea or image can be called up by words, that is, every force and phenomenon of nature, every operation and result of art, every fact of life and history, or every imagination of such a fact, every thought and feeling of the human spirit, for which mankind in the course of its long evolution has been able to create in speech an explicit and appropriate sign. The means or instruments of poetry’s imitation are these verbal signs or words, arranged in lines, strophes or stanzas, so that their sounds have some of the regulated qualities and direct emotional effect of music.

The next and final imitative art is the spoken art of poetry. The shift from sculpture and painting to poetry is, viewed from our current perspective rather than our original categorization of the fine arts, shocking and complete. It’s a shift from space to time, from the realm of physical forms to the realm of abstract images. Following Aristotle’s approach, we can define the subjects of poetry's imitation or evocation as everything that can be represented by words, including every force and phenomenon in nature, every action and outcome of art, every fact of life and history, or any imagined aspect of such facts, along with every thought and feeling of the human spirit for which humanity has been able to create a clear and fitting expression in words. The tools or instruments of poetry's imitation are these verbal signs or words, arranged in lines, strophes, or stanzas, so that their sounds possess some of the structured qualities and direct emotional impact of music.

The three chief modes or forms of the imitation may still be defined as they were defined by Aristotle himself. First comes the epic or narrative form, in which the poet speaks alternately for himself and his characters, now describing their The chief forms or modes of poetry. situations and feelings in his own words, and anon making each of them speak in the first person for himself. Second comes the lyric form, in which the poet speaks in his own name exclusively, and gives expression to sentiments which are purely personal. Third comes the dramatic form, in which the poet does not speak for himself at all, but only puts into the mouths of each of his personages successively such discourse as he thinks 366 appropriate to the part. The last of these three forms of poetry, the dramatic, calls, if it is merely read, on the imagination of the reader to fill up those circumstances of situation, action and the rest, which in the first or epic form are supplied by the narrative between the speeches, and for which in the lyric or personal form there is no occasion. To avoid making this call upon the imagination, to bring home its effects with full vividness, dramatic poetry has to call in the aid of several subordinate arts, the shaping or space art of the scene-painter, the mixed time and space arts of the actor and the dancer. Occasionally also, or in the case of opera throughout, dramatic poetry heightens the emotional effect of its words with music. A play or drama is thus, as performed upon the theatre, not a poem merely, but a poem accompanied, interpreted, completed and brought several degrees nearer to reality by a combination of auxiliary effects of the other arts. Besides the narrative, the lyric and dramatic forms of poetry, the didactic, that is the teaching or expository form, has usually been recognized as a fourth. Aristotle refused so to recognize it, regarding a didactic poem in the light not so much of a poem as of a useful treatise. But from the Works and Days down to the Loves of the Plants there has been too much literature produced in this form for us to follow Aristotle here. We shall do better to regard didactic poetry as a variety corresponding, among the speaking arts, to architecture and the other manual arts of which the first purpose is use, but which are capable of accompanying and adorning use by a pleasurable appeal to the emotions.

The three main types or forms of imitation can still be defined just like Aristotle described them. First, there's the epic or narrative form, where the poet alternates between speaking for himself and for his characters, sometimes describing their situations and feelings in his own words, and other times letting each character speak for themselves in the first person. Second is the lyric form, where the poet only expresses his own thoughts and emotions. Third is the dramatic form, where the poet doesn’t speak for himself at all, but instead creates dialogue for each character according to what fits their role. The dramatic form, when just read, relies on the reader's imagination to fill in the details of the situation and action, which the first or epic form provides clearly through narration, while the lyric form doesn't require such context. To enhance the impact of dramatic poetry and make it more vivid, it incorporates various supporting arts—like the visual arts of the set designer, along with the combined time and space skills of actors and dancers. Sometimes, as in the case of opera, dramatic poetry also amplifies its emotional effect with music. Therefore, a play or drama performed on stage isn't just a poem; it's a poem that is accompanied, interpreted, completed, and brought closer to reality through a mix of other artistic effects. In addition to the narrative, lyric, and dramatic forms of poetry, there's also the didactic form, which is focused on teaching or explaining. Aristotle didn’t recognize this as a true form of poetry, viewing didactic poems more as useful writings. However, starting from Works and Days to Loves of the Plants, there’s been too much literature created in this form for us to agree with Aristotle. It makes more sense to see didactic poetry as a type parallel to architecture and other practical arts, whose primary goal is utility but can also enhance that utility by appealing to emotions in a pleasurable way.

We shall hardly make our definition of poetry, considered as an imitative art, too extended if we say that it is Definition of poetry. a speaking or time art, of which the business is to express and arouse emotion by imitating or evoking all or any of the phenomena of life and nature by means of words arranged with musical regularity.

We likely won’t stretch our definition of poetry, viewed as an imitative art, too far if we say that it is Definition of poetry. a spoken or timed art that aims to express and evoke emotions by imitating or bringing to mind all or any aspects of life and nature through words arranged with musical rhythm.

Neither the varieties of poetical form, however, nor the modes in which the several forms have been mixed up and interchanged—as such mixture and interchange are implied, for instance, by the very title of a group of Robert Browning’s poems, Relation of poetry as an Imitative art to painting and sculpture. the Dramatic Lyrics,—the observation of neither of these things concerns us here so much as the observation of the relations of poetry in general, as an art of representation or imitation, to the other arts of imitation, painting and sculpture. Verbal signs have been invented for innumerable things which cannot be imitated or represented at all either in solid form or upon a coloured surface. You cannot carve or paint a sigh, or the feeling which finds utterance in a sigh; you can only suggest the idea of the feeling, and that in a somewhat imperfect and uncertain way, by representing the physical aspect of a person in the act of breathing the sigh. Similarly you cannot carve or paint any movement, but only figures or groups in which the movement is represented as arrested in some particular point of time; nor any abstract idea, but only figures or groups in which the abstract idea, as for example release, captivity, mercy, is symbolized in the concrete shape of allegorical or illustrative figures. The whole field of thought, of propositions, arguments, injunctions and exhortations is open to poetry but closed to sculpture and painting. Poetry, by its command over the regions of the understanding, of abstraction, of the movement and succession of things in time, by its power of instantaneously associating one image with another from the remotest regions of the mind, by its names for every shade of feeling and experience, exercises a sovereignty a hundred times more extended than that of either of the two arts of manual imitation. But, on the other hand, words do not as a rule bear any sensible resemblance to the things of which they are the signs. There are few things that words do not stand for or cannot call up; but they stand for things symbolically and at second hand, and call them up only in idea, and not in actual presentment to the senses. In strictness, the business of poetry should not be called imitation at all, but rather evocation. The strength of painting and sculpture lies in this, that though there are countless phenomena which they cannot represent at all, and countless more which they can only represent by symbolism and suggestion more or less ambiguous, yet there are a few which each can represent more fully and directly than poetry can represent any thing at all. These are, for sculpture, the forms or configurations of things, which that art represents directly to the senses both of sight and touch; and for painting the forms and colours of things and their relations to each other in space, air and light, which the art represents to the sense of sight, directly so far as regards surface appearance, and indirectly so far as regards solidity. For many delicate qualities and differences in these visible relations of things there are no words at all—the vocabulary of colours, for instance, is in all languages surprisingly scanty and primitive. And those visible qualities, for which words exist, the words still call up indistinctly and at second hand. Poetry is almost as powerless to bring before the mind’s eye with precision a particular shade of red or blue, a particular linear arrangement or harmony of colour-tones, as sculpture is to relate a continuous experience, or painting to enforce an exhortation or embellish an abstract proposition. The wise poet, as has been justly remarked, when he wants to produce a vivid impression of a visible thing, does not attempt to catalogue or describe its stationary beauties. Shakespeare, when he wants to make us realize the perfections of Perdita, puts into the mouth of Florizel, not, as a bad poet would have done, a description of her lilies and carnations, and the other charms which a painter could make us realize better, but the praises of her ways and movements; and with the final touch,

Neither the various forms of poetry nor the ways those forms have been blended or exchanged— as suggested, for example, by the very title of a collection of Robert Browning’s poems, The connection between poetry as an imitative art and visual arts like painting and sculpture. the Dramatic Lyrics—are our primary concern here. Instead, we’ll focus on the relationship between poetry, as an art of representation or imitation, and other imitative arts like painting and sculpture. Language has created symbols for countless things that can’t be represented or imitated at all in solid form or on a colored surface. You can’t carve or paint a sigh, or the emotion that comes with it; you can only hint at that feeling by showing a person in the act of sighing. Likewise, you can’t carve or paint any movement; you can only depict figures or groups frozen at a specific moment in time. You can’t represent abstract concepts directly; you can only symbolize ideas like freedom, captivity, or mercy through concrete allegorical figures. While poetry has access to the entire realm of thought—arguments, commands, and encouragements—sculpture and painting are limited. Poetry holds dominion over understanding, abstraction, and the progression of events over time. It can instantaneously connect disparate images from the far reaches of the mind and has a word for every nuance of feeling and experience, exerting influence much broader than that of either of the two visual arts. However, words usually don’t physically resemble what they represent. There are few things words can’t evoke, but they symbolize concepts indirectly and only conjure them in thought, not as direct sensory experiences. Strictly speaking, poetry should be considered an act of evocation rather than imitation. The strength of painting and sculpture is that, even though there are countless phenomena they can't represent at all, and many more that they can only symbolize or suggest ambiguously, there are a few things each can portray more fully and directly than poetry can depict anything. For sculpture, it's the forms or configurations of objects, presented directly to the senses of touch and sight; for painting, it’s the shapes and colors of things and their relationships in space, air, and light, depicted directly in terms of their surface appearance and indirectly regarding their solidity. Numerous delicate qualities and differences in these visual relationships have no corresponding words—the vocabulary for colors, for instance, is surprisingly limited and basic across languages. Even when words do exist for those visual qualities, they still evoke them vaguely and indirectly. Poetry is nearly as ineffective at representing a specific shade of red or blue, or a specific arrangement or harmony of colors in detail, as sculpture is at conveying an ongoing experience or painting is at enhancing an exhortation or illustrating an abstract idea. The wise poet, as has rightly been noted, doesn’t try to list or describe the static beauty of something when aiming for a vivid impression of a visible object. Shakespeare, for example, when he wants us to appreciate Perdita's beauty, has Florizel praise her actions and movements instead of describing her lilies, carnations, or other charms, which a painter could depict more effectively; and with the final touch,

“When you do dance, I wish you

“When you do dance, I wish you

A wave o’ the sea, that you might ever do

A wave of the sea, that you might always do

Nothing but that,”

"Nothing else but that,"

he evokes a twofold image of beauty in motion, of which one half might be the despair of those painters who designed the dancing maidens of the walls of Herculaneum, and the other half the despair of all artists who in modern times have tried to fix upon their canvas the buoyancy and grace of dancing waves. In representing the perfections of form in a bride’s slender foot, the speaking art, poetry, would find itself distanced by either of the shaping arts, painting or sculpture. Suckling calls up the charm of such a foot by describing it not at rest but in motion, and in the feet which

he brings to mind two contrasting images of beauty in motion. One side might reflect the frustration of painters who created the dancing maidens on the walls of Herculaneum, while the other captures the struggles of modern artists trying to depict the lightness and elegance of dancing waves on their canvases. When it comes to showcasing the perfect form of a bride’s delicate foot, poetry finds itself overshadowed by the visual arts, whether painting or sculpture. Suckling highlights the allure of such a foot by portraying it not at rest but in motion, and in the feet which

“Beneath the petticoat,

“Under the skirt,”

Like little mice, went in and out,”

Like little mice, they came and went.

leaves us an image which baffles the power of the other arts. Keats, when he tells of Madeline unclasping her jewels on St Agnes’s Eve, does not attempt to conjure up their lustre to the eye, as a painter would have done, and a less poetical poet might have tried to do, but in the words “her warmed jewels” evoked instead a quality, breathing of the very life of the wearer, which painting could not even have remotely suggested.

leaves us with an image that outshines the abilities of other art forms. When Keats describes Madeline taking off her jewels on St. Agnes's Eve, he doesn’t try to create a visual sparkle like a painter would, or like a less imaginative poet might have done. Instead, with the phrase “her warmed jewels,” he evokes a quality that embodies the very essence of the wearer, something that painting couldn’t even begin to convey.

The differences between the means and capacities of representation proper to the shaping arts of sculpture and painting and those proper to the speaking art of poetry were for a long while overlooked or misunderstood. The maxim of Simonides, General law of the relative means and capacities of the several imitative arts: sculpture. that poetry is a kind of articulate painting, and painting a kind of mute poetry, was vaguely accepted until the days of Lessing, and first overthrown by the famous treatise of that writer on the Laocoön. Following in the main the lines laid down by Lessing, other writers have worked out the conditions of representation or imitation proper not only to sculpture and painting as distinguished from poetry, but to sculpture as distinguished from painting. The chief points established may really all be condensed under one simple law, that the more direct and complete the imitation effected by any art, the less is the range and number of phenomena which that art can imitate. Thus sculpture in the round imitates its objects much more completely and directly than any other single art, reproducing one whole set of their relations which no other art attempts to reproduce at all, namely, their solid relations in space. Precisely for this reason, such sculpture is limited to a narrow class of objects. As we have seen, it must represent human or animal figures; nothing else has enough either of universal interest or of organic beauty and perfection. Sculpture in the round must represent such figures standing free in full clearness and detachment, in combinations and with accessories comparatively simple, on pain of teasing the eye with a complexity and entanglement of masses and lights and shadows; and in attitudes comparatively quiet, on pain of violating, or appearing to violate, the conditions of mechanical stability. Being a stationary or space-art, it can only represent a single action, which it fixes and perpetuates for ever; and it must therefore choose for that action one as significant and full of interest as is consistent with due observation of the above laws of simplicity and stability. Such actions, and the facial expressions accompanying them, should not be those of sharp crisis or transition, because sudden movement or flitting expression, thus arrested and perpetuated in full and solid imitation by bronze or marble, would be displeasing and not pleasing to the spectator. They must be actions and expressions in some degree settled, collected and capable of continuance, and in their collectedness must at the same time suggest to the spectator as much as possible of the circumstances which have led up to them and those which will next ensue. These conditions evidently bring within a very narrow range the phenomena with which this art can deal, and explain why, as a matter of fact, the greater number of statues represent simply a single figure in repose, with the addition of one or two symbolic or customary attributes. Paint a statue (as the greater part both of Greek and Gothic statuary was in fact painted), and you bring it to a still further point of imitative completeness to the eye; but you do not thereby lighten the restrictions laid upon the art by its material, so long as it undertakes to reproduce in full the third or solid dimension of bodies. You only begin to lighten its restrictions when you begin to relieve it of that duty. We have traced how sculpture in relief, which is satisfied with only a partial reproduction of the third dimension, is free to introduce a larger range of objects, bringing forward secondary figures and accessories, indicating distant planes, indulging even in considerable violence and complexity of motion, since limbs attached to a background do not alarm the spectator by any idea of danger of fragility. But sculpture in the round has not this licence. It is true that the art has at various periods made efforts to escape from its natural limitations. Several of the later schools of antiquity, especially that of Pergamus in the 3rd and 2nd centuries B.C., strove hard both for violence of expression and complexity of design, not only in relief-sculptures, like the great altar-friezes now at Berlin, but in detached groups, such as (pace Lessing) the Laocoön itself. Many modern virtuosi of sculpture since Bernini have misspent their 367 skill in trying to fix in marble both the restlessness of momentary actions and the flimsiness of fluttering tissues. In latter days Auguste Rodin, an innovating master with a real genius for his art, has attacked many problems of complicated grouping, more or less in the nature of the Greek symplegmata, but keeps these interlocked or contorted actions circumscribed within strict limiting lines, so that they do not by jutting or straggling suggest a kind of acrobatic challenge to the laws of gravity. The same artist and others inspired by him have further sought to emancipate sculpture from the necessity of rendering form in clear and complete definition, and to enrich it with a new power of mysterious suggestion, by leaving his figures wrought in part to the highest finish and vitality of surface, while other parts (according to a precedent set in some unfinished works of Michelangelo) remain scarcely emergent from the rough-hewn or unhewn block. But it may be doubted whether such experiments and expedients can permanently do much to enlarge the scope of the art.

The differences between the methods and abilities of sculpture and painting, compared to the art of poetry, were long ignored or misunderstood. The saying from Simonides, General law regarding the relative methods and abilities of various imitative arts: sculpture. that poetry is a form of articulated painting and painting is a type of silent poetry, was somewhat accepted until Lessing's time, when it was first challenged by his famous treatise on the Laocoön. Following Lessing's ideas, other writers have discussed the conditions of representation or imitation unique to sculpture and painting, separate from poetry, as well as the differences between sculpture and painting. The main points can be summarized by one simple rule: the more direct and complete the imitation achieved by any art, the narrower the range and number of phenomena that art can imitate. For instance, sculpture in the round imitates its subjects much more fully and directly than any other single art, capturing one entire set of relationships—specifically, their physical relationships in space—that no other art tries to replicate at all. Because of this, such sculpture is limited to a small class of objects. As we have noted, it must depict human or animal figures; nothing else has enough universal interest or organic beauty and perfection. Sculpture in the round must show these figures standing freely with clear visibility and separation, in relatively simple combinations with accessories, to avoid overwhelming the viewer with a complex mix of masses, light, and shadows. Additionally, it must depict them in relatively calm poses, to uphold the idea of mechanical stability. Being a stationary or spatial art, it can only represent one action, fixing and preserving it forever; therefore, it must choose an action that is as significant and engaging as possible while adhering to the aforementioned rules of simplicity and stability. These actions and their facial expressions shouldn't be those of a sudden crisis or transition, as abrupt movement or fleeting expressions, when captured in solid imitation by bronze or marble, would be jarring rather than pleasing to the viewer. They must represent actions and expressions that feel settled, composed, and able to endure, while also hinting at the circumstances that led to them and what will follow next. These conditions clearly narrow the phenomena that this art can address, which explains why most statues depict merely a single figure at rest, often with one or two symbolic or traditional attributes. Painting a statue (just as most Greek and Gothic statues were actually painted) brings it to an even greater level of visual completeness, but it doesn't reduce the restrictions imposed by the medium, as long as it aims to reproduce fully the third or solid dimension of bodies. The restrictions only begin to lessen when it stops trying to fulfill that responsibility. We've seen that relief sculpture, which settles for only a partial reproduction of the third dimension, is free to include a wider variety of objects, featuring secondary figures and accessories, indicating distant planes, and even indulging in significant movement and complexity since limbs attached to a background don't give the viewer a sense of fragility. However, sculpture in the round doesn't have that freedom. It's true that at different times, the art has attempted to break free from its natural constraints. Several later schools from antiquity, especially in Pergamus during the 3rd and 2nd centuries BCE, struggled for expressive violence and complex design, not only in relief sculptures, like the grand altar friezes now in Berlin, but also in standalone groups, such as the Laocoön itself (despite Lessing’s perspective). Many modern virtuosi of sculpture since Bernini have squandered their 367 talents trying to capture in marble both the restlessness of fleeting actions and the delicacy of fluttering fabrics. Recently, Auguste Rodin, an innovative master with true artistic genius, has faced numerous challenges of intricate grouping, somewhat akin to the Greek symplegmata, but he keeps these interlocked or twisted actions within strict boundaries so they don’t appear to challenge gravity. This artist and others inspired by him have also tried to free sculpture from having to render form with clear and complete definition, enriching it with a new power of mysterious suggestion by leaving some parts brilliantly finished and alive in surface detail while other areas (following a precedent from some of Michelangelo's unfinished works) remain only slightly detailed or rough-hewn. However, it's questionable whether such experiments and strategies can significantly expand the art's scope.

Next we arrive at painting, in which the third dimension is dismissed altogether, and nothing is actually reproduced, in full or partially, except the effect made by the appearance of natural objects upon the retina of the eye. The consequence Means and capacities of painting. is that this art can range over distance and multitude, can represent complicated relations between its various figures and groups of figures, extensive backgrounds, and all those infinite subtleties of appearance in natural things which depend upon local colours and their modification in the play of light and shade and enveloping atmosphere. These last phenomena of natural things are in our experience subject to change in a sense in which the substantial or solid properties of things are not so subject. Colours, shadows and atmospheric effects are naturally associated with ideas of transition, mystery and evanescence. Hence painting is able to extend its range to another kind of facts over which sculpture has no power. It can suggest and perpetuate in its imitation, without breach of its true laws, many classes of facts which are themselves fugitive and transitory, as a smile, the glance of an eye, a gesture of horror or of passion, the waving of hair in the wind, the rush of horses, the strife of mobs, the whole drama of the clouds, the toss and gathering of ocean waves, even the flashing of lightning across the sky. Still, any long or continuous series of changes, actions or movements is quite beyond the means of this art to represent. Painting remains, in spite of its comparative width of range, tied down to the inevitable conditions of a space-art: that is to say, it has to delight the mind by a harmonious variety in its effects, but by a variety apprehended not through various points of time successively, but from various points in space at the same moment. The old convention which allowed painters to indicate sequence in time by means of distribution in space, dispersing the successive episodes of a story about the different parts of a single picture, has been abandoned since the early Renaissance; and Wordsworth sums up our modern view of the matter when he says that it is the business of painting

Next, we move on to painting, where the third dimension is completely ignored, and nothing is actually reproduced in full or in part, except for the effect that natural objects have on the eye. The result is that this art can cover vast distances and many subjects, representing complex relationships between different figures and groups, extensive backgrounds, and all the endless subtleties of natural appearances that depend on local colors and how they change in the play of light and shadow and the surrounding atmosphere. These last aspects of nature are subject to change in a way that the solid properties of things are not. Colors, shadows, and atmospheric effects naturally evoke ideas of transition, mystery, and fleetingness. Thus, painting can extend its reach to another type of facts that sculpture cannot address. It can suggest and capture in its representation, without breaking its true laws, many types of fleeting and transitory realities, like a smile, the glance of an eye, a gesture of horror or passion, hair blowing in the wind, galloping horses, crowds in conflict, the drama of clouds, the rise and fall of ocean waves, and even the flash of lightning across the sky. However, any long or continuous sequence of changes, actions, or movements is beyond the capability of this art to portray. Painting, despite its relative breadth of scope, is still bound by the essential conditions of a spatial art: it has to delight the mind with a harmonious variety in its effects, experienced not through various moments in time, but from many points in space simultaneously. The old convention that allowed painters to represent time through spatial distribution, spreading out different episodes of a story across a single canvas, has been left behind since the early Renaissance; and Wordsworth captures our modern perspective when he states that it is painting's duty.

“to give

“to give”

To one blest moment snatched from fleeting time

To one blessed moment taken from passing time

The appropriate calm of blest eternity.”

The right peace of blessed eternity.

Lastly, a really unfettered range is only attained by the art which does not give a full and complete reproduction of any natural fact at all, but evokes or brings natural facts before the mind merely by the images which words convey. The whole Means and capacities of poetry. world of movement, of continuity, of cause and effect, of the successions, alternations and interaction of events, characters and passions of everything that takes time to happen and time to declare, is open to poetry as it is open to no other art. As an imitative or, more properly speaking, an evocative art, then, poetry is subject to no limitations except those which spring from the poverty of human language, and from the fact that its means of imitation are indirect. Poetry’s account of the visible properties of things is from these causes much less full, accurate and efficient than the reproduction or delineation of the same properties by sculpture and painting. And this is the sum of the conditions concerning the respective functions of the three arts of imitation which had been overlooked, in theory at least, until the time of Lessing.

Lastly, a truly unrestricted range is only achieved by the art that doesn't give a complete and thorough reproduction of any natural fact, but instead evokes or presents natural facts through the images that words create. The entire world of movement, continuity, cause and effect, and the sequences, changes, and interactions of events, characters, and emotions—everything that takes time to unfold and time to express—is accessible to poetry in a way that it is not to any other art. As an imitative, or more accurately, an evocative art, poetry faces no limitations except those arising from the limitations of human language and the fact that its means of imitation are indirect. Poetry’s representation of the visible qualities of things is, due to these reasons, much less complete, accurate, and effective than the reproduction or depiction of the same qualities by sculpture and painting. And this summarizes the conditions regarding the respective functions of the three imitative arts, which had been overlooked, at least in theory, until the time of Lessing.

To the above law, in the form in which we have expressed it, it may perhaps be objected that the acted drama is at once the most full and complete reproduction of nature which we owe to the fine arts, and that at the same time the number of The acted drama no real exception to the general law. facts over which its imitation ranges is the greatest. The answer is that our law applies to the several arts only in that which we may call their pure or unmixed state. Dramatic poetry is in that state only when it is read or spoken like any other kind of verse. When it is witnessed on the stage, it is in a mixed or impure state; the art of the actor has been called in to give actual reproduction to the gestures and utterances of the personages, that of the costumier to their appearances and attire, that of the stage-decorator to their furniture and surroundings, that of the scene-painter to imitate to the eye the dwelling-places and landscapes among which they move; and only by the combination of all these subordinate arts does the drama gain its character of imitative completeness or reality.

To the law mentioned above, it might be argued that the acted drama is the most complete reproduction of nature provided by the fine arts, and that it covers the widest range of facts in its imitation. The response is that our law applies to the various arts only in what we could call their pure or unmixed form. Dramatic poetry is in that pure state only when it is read or spoken like any other type of verse. When it is performed on stage, it is in a mixed or impure state; the actor's art is used to recreate the gestures and speech of the characters, the costume designer's work is needed for their looks and outfits, the stage designer contributes to their furniture and settings, and the scene painter helps visually recreate the homes and landscapes they inhabit. Only by combining all these supporting arts does the drama achieve its quality of imitative completeness or reality.

Throughout the above account of the imitative and non-imitative groups of fine arts, we have so far followed Aristotle as to allow the name of imitation to all recognizable representation or evocation of realities,—using the word “realities” in no Things unknown shadowed forth by imitation of things known. metaphysical sense, but to signify the myriad phenomena of life and experience, whether as they actually and literally exist to-day, or as they may have existed in the past, or may be conceived to exist in some other world not too unlike our own for us to conceive and realize in thought. When we find among the ruins of a Greek temple the statue of a beautiful young man at rest, or above the altar of a Christian church the painting of one transfixed with arrows, we know that the statue is intended to bring to our minds no mortal youth, but the god Hermes or Apollo, the transfixed victim no simple captive, but Sebastian the holy saint. At the same time we none the less know that the figures in either case have been studied by the artist from living models before his eyes. In like manner, in all the representations alike of sculpture, painting and poetry the things and persons represented may bear symbolic meanings and imaginary names and characters; they may be set in a land of dreams, and grouped in relations and circumstances upon which the sun of this world never shone; in point of fact, through many ages of history they have been chiefly used to embody human ideas of supernatural powers; but it is from real things and persons that their lineaments and characters have been taken in the first instance, in order to be attributed by the imagination to another and more exalted order of existences.

Throughout the overview of imitative and non-imitative groups of fine arts above, we've followed Aristotle by allowing the term "imitation" to cover all recognizable representations or evocations of realities—using "realities" in no metaphysical sense, but to refer to the countless phenomena of life and experience, whether they currently exist, existed in the past, or may be imagined to exist in a different world that’s not too far removed from our own for us to understand and visualize in thought. When we find a statue of a beautiful young man resting among the ruins of a Greek temple, or see a painting of someone pierced with arrows above the altar of a Christian church, we recognize that the statue isn't meant to depict any mortal youth but the god Hermes or Apollo, and the pierced figure isn't just any captive but Saint Sebastian. At the same time, we also understand that the artist studied real living models when creating both figures. Similarly, in all representations of sculpture, painting, and poetry, the things and people depicted may carry symbolic meanings and imagined names and identities; they might take place in a dreamland and be arranged in relationships and situations that have never been illuminated by the sun of this world. In fact, over many ages of history, they have mainly been used to express human ideas of supernatural powers; yet, their features and characteristics are initially drawn from real things and people, which are then reimagined by the imagination into a higher order of existence.

The law which we have last laid down is a law defining the relations of sculpture, painting and poetry, considered simply as arts having their foundations at any rate in reality, and drawing from the imitation of reality their indispensable elements and Imitation by art necessarily an idealized imitation. materials. It is a law defining the range and character of those elements or materials in nature which each art is best fitted, by its special means and resources, to imitate. But we must remember that, even in this fundamental part of its operations, none of these arts proceeds by imitation or evocation pure and simple. None of them contents itself with seeking to represent realities, however literally taken, exactly as those realities are. A portrait in sculpture or painting, a landscape in painting, a passage of local description in poetry, may be representations of known things taken literally or for their own sakes, and not for the sake of carrying out thoughts to the unknown; but none of them ought to be, or indeed can possibly be, a representation of all the observed parts and details of such a reality on equal terms and without omissions. Such a representation, were it possible, would be a mechanical inventory and not a work of fine art.

The law we just established defines the relationships among sculpture, painting, and poetry, viewed simply as arts grounded in reality and drawing their essential elements and materials from imitating reality. It specifies the scope and nature of those elements or materials in nature that each art is best equipped, through its unique means and resources, to imitate. However, we must remember that, even in this fundamental aspect of their functions, none of these arts operates through pure imitation or replication. None of them simply aims to represent realities, however literally interpreted, just as they are. A sculpture or painting of a portrait, a painted landscape, or a local description in poetry may depict known subjects literally or for their own sake, rather than to express thoughts about the unknown; but none should be, or can be, a complete representation of all observed parts and details of such a reality equally and without omissions. Such a representation, if it were possible, would be a mechanical inventory and not a work of fine art.

Hence the value of a pictorial imitation is by no means necessarily in proportion to the number of facts which it records. Many accomplished pictures, in which all the resources of line, colour and light-and-shade have been used to the utmost of Completeness not the test of value in a pictorial imitation. the artist’s power for the imitation of all that he could see in nature, are dead and worthless in comparison with a few faintly touched outlines or lightly laid shadows or tints of another artist who could see nature more vitally and better. Unless the painter knows how to choose and combine the elements of his finished work so that it shall contain in every part suggestions and delights over and above the mere imitation, it will fall short, in that which is the essential charm of fine art, not only of any scrap of a great master’s handiwork, such as an outline sketch of a child by Raphael or a colour sketch of a boat or a mackerel by Turner, but even of any scrap of the merest journeyman’s handiwork produced by an artistic race, such as the first Japanese drawing in which a water-flag and kingfisher, or a spray of peach or almond blossom across the sky, is dashed in with a mere hint of colour, but a hint that tells a whole tale to the imagination. That only, we know, is fine art which affords keen and permanent delight to contemplation. Such delight the artist can never communicate by the display of a callous and pedantic impartiality in presence of the facts of life and nature. His representation of realities will only strike or impress others in so far as it concentrates their attention on things by which he has been struck and impressed himself. To arouse emotion, he must have felt emotion; and emotion is impossible without partiality. The artist is one who instinctively tends to modify and work upon every reality before him in conformity with some poignant and sensitive principle of preference or selection in his mind. He instinctively adds something to nature in one direction and takes away something in another, overlooking this kind of fact and insisting on that, suppressing many particulars which he holds irrelevant in order to insist on and bring into prominence others by which he is attracted and arrested.

The value of a painting isn't necessarily tied to the number of details it includes. Many skilled artworks—where the artist uses all the tools of line, color, and light to mimic everything they see in nature—can seem lifeless and worthless compared to a few gentle outlines or soft shadows by another artist who perceives nature more deeply and clearly. Unless the painter knows how to select and combine the elements of their work so that every part evokes suggestions and pleasures beyond mere imitation, it will lack the essential charm of fine art. This shortfall is not only evident in any small piece by a great master, like a simple sketch of a child by Raphael or a color sketch of a boat or mackerel by Turner, but even in the least work of a skilled craftsman from an artistic culture, such as an early Japanese drawing where a water-flag and kingfisher, or a sprig of peach or almond blossoms across the sky, are hinted at with just a touch of color—but that hint tells a complete story to the imagination. Only fine art brings ongoing joy to contemplation. An artist can’t achieve this by showing cold and pedantic indifference to the facts of life and nature. Their representation of reality will resonate with others only to the extent that it focuses on what has struck and inspired them. To evoke emotion, they must have experienced it themselves; and emotion can't exist without personal bias. An artist instinctively modifies and works with every reality they encounter, guided by a sensitive principle of preference in their mind. They automatically add something to nature in one area while removing something in another, overlooking certain facts and emphasizing others that capture their interest and attention.

The instinct by which an artist thus prefers, selects and brings into light one order of facts or aspects in the thing before him rather than the rest, is part of what is called the idealizing or ideal faculty. Interminable discussion has been spent on the Nature of the idealizing process. questions,—What is the ideal, and how do we idealize? The answer has been given in one form by those thinkers (e.g. Vischer and Lotze) who have pointed out that the process of aesthetic idealization carried on by the artist is only the 368 higher development of a process carried on in an elementary fashion by all men, from the very nature of their constitution. The physical organs of sense themselves do not retain or put on record all the impressions made upon them. When the nerves of the eye receive a multitude of different stimulations at once from different points in space, the sense of eyesight, instead of being aware of all these stimulations singly, only abstracts and retains a total impression of them together. In like manner we are not made aware by the sense of hearing of all the several waves of sound that strike in a momentary succession upon the nerves of the ear; that sense only abstracts and retains a total impression from the combined effect of a number of such waves. And the office which each sense thus performs singly for its own impressions, the mind performs in a higher degree for the impressions of all the senses equally, and for all the other parts of our experience. We are always dismissing or neglecting a great part of our impressions, and abstracting and combining among those which we retain. The ordinary human consciousness works like an artist up to this point; and when we speak of the ordinary or inartistic man as being impartial in the retention or registry of his daily impressions, we mean, of course, in the retention or registry of his impressions as already thus far abstracted and assorted in consciousness. The artistic man, whose impressions affect him much more strongly, has the faculty of carrying much farther these same processes of abstraction, combination and selection among his impressions.

The instinct that drives an artist to prefer, select, and highlight certain facts or aspects of what they see rather than others is part of what’s known as the idealizing or ideal faculty. There’s been endless debate about the nature of the idealizing process, with questions like—What is the ideal, and how do we idealize? Thinkers like Vischer and Lotze have provided one perspective, suggesting that the artistic process of aesthetic idealization is simply a more advanced version of a process that everyone engages in, due to the nature of human perception. Our physical senses don't capture or record every impression they receive. For example, when our eyes are bombarded with many different stimuli at once, instead of perceiving each one individually, our vision only abstracts and retains an overall impression. Similarly, our sense of hearing doesn’t register every single sound wave that hits our ears all at once; it merely abstracts and keeps a combined effect from several waves. Each sense does this for its own impressions, while our mind performs this task on a broader level, managing the impressions from all our senses and every part of our experience. We constantly dismiss or overlook a lot of our impressions, abstracting and combining those we do remember. Ordinary human consciousness operates like an artist to this extent, and when we say that an ordinary or non-artistic person is unbiased in how they remember their daily impressions, we’re referring to the fact that their memories have already been abstracted and sorted in their minds. The artist, however, is affected more intensely by their impressions and has the ability to take these processes of abstraction, combination, and selection to a much deeper level.

The possession of this faculty is the artist’s most essential gift. To attempt to carry farther the psychological analysis of the gift is outside our present object; but it is worth while to consider somewhat closely its modes of practical operation. Subjective and objective ideals. One mode is this: the artist grows up with certain innate or acquired predilections which become a part of his constitution whether he will or no,—predilections, say, if he is a dramatic poet, for certain types of plot, character and situation; if he is a sculptor, for certain proportions and a certain habitual carriage and disposition of the limbs; if he is a figure painter, for certain schemes of composition and moulds of figure and airs and expressions of countenance; if a landscape painter, for a certain class of local character, sentiment and pictorial effect in natural scenery. To such predilections he cannot choose but make his representations of reality in large measure conform. This is one part of the transmuting process which the data of life and experience have to undergo at the hands of artists, and may be called the subjective or purely personal mode of idealization. But there is another part of that work which springs from an impulse in the artistic constitution not less imperious than the last named, and in a certain sense contrary to it. As an imitator or evoker of the facts of life and nature, the artist must recognize and accept the character of those facts with which he has in any given case to deal. All facts cannot be of the cast he prefers, and in so far as he undertakes to deal with those of an opposite cast he must submit to them; he must study them as they actually are, must apprehend, enforce and bring into prominence their own dominant tendencies. If he cannot find in them what is most pleasing to himself, he will still be led by the abstracting and discriminating powers of his observation to discern what is most expressive and significant in them, he will emphasize and put on record this, idealizing the facts before him not in his direction but in their own. This is the second or objective half of the artist’s task of idealization. It is this half upon which Taine dwelt almost exclusively, and on the whole with a just insight into the principles of the operation, in his well-known treatise On the Ideal in Art. Both these modes of idealization are legitimate; that which springs from inborn and overmastering personal preference in the artist for particular aspects of life and nature, and that which springs from his insight into the dominant and significant character of the phenomena actually before him, and his desire to emphasize and disengage them. But there is a third mode of idealizing which is less vital and genuine than either of these, and therefore less legitimate, though unfortunately far more common. This mode consists in making things conform to a borrowed and conventional standard of beauty and taste, which corresponds neither to any strong inward predilection of the artist nor to any vital characteristic in the objects of his representation. Since the rediscovery of Greek and Roman sculpture in the Renaissance, a great part of the efforts of artists have been spent in falsifying their natural instincts and misrepresenting the facts of nature in pursuit of a conventional ideal of abstract and generalized beauty framed on a false conception and a shallow knowledge of the antique. School after school from the 16th century downwards has been confirmed in this practice by academic criticism and theory, with resulting insipidities and insincerities of performance which have commonly been acclaimed in their day, but from which later generations have sooner or later turned away with a wholesome reaction of distaste.

The artist's ability is their most essential gift. While delving deeper into the psychological analysis of this gift isn't our main focus, it's helpful to closely examine how it practically operates. Subjective and objective standards. One way this operates is that the artist grows up with certain innate or learned preferences that become part of their identity, whether they like it or not—preferences, for instance, if they're a dramatic poet, for certain types of plots, characters, and situations; if they're a sculptor, for specific proportions and ways of positioning limbs; if they're a figure painter, for particular composition styles and representations of figures and facial expressions; if they're a landscape painter, for certain local characteristics, sentiments, and visual effects in natural scenes. These preferences heavily influence how they represent reality. This is one aspect of the transformation process that the information from life and experience goes through at the hands of artists, which can be called the subjective or purely personal method of idealization. However, there’s another part of this work driven by an impulse within the artist that’s just as compelling, and in a certain way, the opposite of the previous one. As a imitator or interpreter of the facts of life and nature, the artist must recognize and accept the nature of the facts they need to work with in any given situation. Not all facts can be what they prefer, and in dealing with those that are different, they must adapt; they need to study them as they truly are, understand, emphasize, and highlight their dominant traits. Even if they can’t find what’s most appealing to themselves, they’ll still be led by their analytical and discerning observational skills to see what’s most expressive and significant in them. They will emphasize and capture this, idealizing the facts before them not according to their own preferences but in line with the inherent qualities of the facts. This is the second or objective part of the artist’s task of idealization. Taine focused mostly on this aspect and showed a pretty accurate understanding of how it works in his well-known work On the Ideal in Art. Both of these idealization methods are valid; one comes from the artist's innate and strong personal preferences for specific aspects of life and nature, and the other comes from their insight into the essential and significant nature of the phenomena they encounter. However, there is a third way of idealizing that is less vital and authentic than the other two, making it less legitimate, though unfortunately much more common. This method involves adapting things to a borrowed and conventional standard of beauty and taste that doesn't resonate with the artist's true preferences or with any vital characteristics of the things they represent. Since the rediscovery of Greek and Roman sculpture during the Renaissance, many artists have spent a lot of time suppressing their natural instincts and misrepresenting nature in pursuit of a conventional ideal of abstract and generalized beauty based on a misguided understanding and shallow knowledge of the ancient. Each artistic school from the 16th century onward has been reinforced in this practice by academic criticism and theory, leading to bland and insincere performances that were often praised in their time but later generations have consistently reacted against with a healthy sense of aversion.

The two genuine modes of idealization, the subjective and the objective, are not always easy to be reconciled. The greatest artist is no doubt he who can combine the strongest personal instincts of preference with the keenest power of observing characteristics as Examples of the two modes and of their reconciliation. they are, yet in fact we find few in whom both these elements of the ideal faculty have been equally developed. To take an example among Florentine painters, Sandro Botticelli is usually thought of as one who could never escape from the dictation of his own personal ideals, in obedience to which he is supposed to have invested all the creations of his art with nearly the same conformation of brows, lips, cheeks and chin, nearly the same looks of wistful yearning and dejection. There is some truth in this impression, though it is largely based on the works not of the master himself, but of pupils who exaggerated his mannerisms. Leonardo da Vinci was strong in both directions; haunted in much of his work by a particular human ideal of intellectual sweetness and alluring mystery, he has yet left us a vast number of exercises which show him as an indefatigable student of objective characteristics and psychological expressions of an order the most opposed to this. And in this case again followers have over-emphasized the master’s predilections, Luini, Sodoma and the rest borrowing and repeating the mysterious smile of Leonardo till it becomes in their work an affectation cloying however lovely. Among latter-day painters, Burne-Jones will occur to every reader as the type of an artist always haunted and dominated by ideals of an intensely personal cast partly engendered in his imagination by sympathy with the early Florentines. If we seek for examples of the opposite principle, of that idealism which idealizes above all things objectively, and seeks to disengage the very inmost and individual characters of the thing or person before it, we think naturally of certain great masters of the northern schools, as Dürer, Holbein and Rembrandt. Dürer’s endeavour to express such characters by the most searching intensity of linear definition was, however, hampered and conditioned by his inherited national and Gothic predilection for the strained in gesture and the knotted and the gnarled in structure, against which his deliberate scholarly ambition to establish a canon of ideal proportion contended for the most part in vain. And Rembrandt’s profound spiritual insight into human character and personality did not prevent him from plunging his subjects, ever deeper and deeper as his life advanced, into a mysterious shadow-world of his own imagination, where all local colours were broken up and crumbled, and where amid the struggle of gloom and gleam he could make his intensely individualized men and women breathe more livingly than in plain human daylight.

The two genuine ways of idealization, subjective and objective, don’t always mesh well. The greatest artist is undoubtedly one who can blend their strongest personal preferences with a sharp ability to observe characteristics as they truly are. However, we find that few have equally developed both aspects of the ideal faculty. For example, among Florentine painters, Sandro Botticelli is often seen as someone who couldn’t break free from his own personal ideals, investing all his creations with nearly the same shapes for brows, lips, cheeks, and chin, and nearly the same expressions of longing and sadness. There’s some truth to this view, though it mostly comes from the works of his pupils who exaggerated his stylistic quirks. Leonardo da Vinci excelled in both areas; while many of his works are influenced by a particular human ideal of intellectual charm and captivating mystery, he also left behind an extensive number of studies showcasing his relentless pursuit of objective characteristics and psychological expressions that starkly contrast with his personal ideals. Once again, followers have exaggerated the master’s preferences, with artists like Luini and Sodoma borrowing the enigmatic smile of Leonardo to the point where it becomes an overly affected quality, lovely as it may be. Among contemporary painters, Burne-Jones stands out as an artist deeply influenced by intensely personal ideals, partly inspired by early Florentine artists. If we look for examples of the opposite principle—idealism that emphasizes objective characteristics—we naturally think of great masters from the northern schools like Dürer, Holbein, and Rembrandt. Dürer’s effort to express such characteristics through intense linear definition was, however, hindered by his national and Gothic tendency for exaggerated gestures and gnarled structures, a struggle against his scholarly ambition to establish a standard of ideal proportions that mostly ended in failure. Meanwhile, Rembrandt’s deep spiritual insight into human character didn’t stop him from immersing his subjects deeper into a mysterious shadow world of his own creation as his life continued, where local colors were fragmented and where, amid the play of light and darkness, he made his intensely individualized men and women come to life more vividly than in straightforward daylight.

It is by the second mode of operation chiefly, that is by imaginatively discerning, disengaging and forcing into prominence their inherent significance, that the idealizing faculty brings into the sphere of fine art deformities and degeneracies Caricature and the grotesque as modes of the ideal. to which the name beautiful or sublime can by no stretch of usage be applied. Hence arise creations like the Stryge of Notre-Dame and a thousand other grotesques of Gothic architectural carving. Hence, although on a lower plane and interpreted with a less transmuting intensity of insight and emphasis, the snarling or jovial grossness of the peasants of Adrian Brauwer and the best of his Dutch compeers. Hence Shakespeare’s Caliban and figures like those of Quilp and Quasimodo in the romances of Dickens and Hugo; hence the cynic grimness of Goya’s Caprices and the profound and bitter impressiveness of Daumier’s caricatures of Parisian bourgeois life; or again, in an angrier and more insulting and therefore less understanding temper, the brutal energy of the political drawings of Gilray.

It is mainly through the second mode of operation—by imaginatively recognizing, separating, and highlighting their inherent significance—that the idealizing faculty brings into the realm of fine art deformities and degeneracies Caricature and the grotesque as expressions of the ideal. which cannot possibly be called beautiful or sublime. This leads to creations like the Stryge of Notre-Dame and countless other grotesques found in Gothic architectural carvings. Similarly, although on a lower level and seen with less transformative insight and emphasis, there's the snarling or jovial roughness of the peasants in Adrian Brauwer's works and those of his best Dutch contemporaries. This includes Shakespeare’s Caliban and characters like Quilp and Quasimodo in the novels of Dickens and Hugo; it also encompasses the cynical grimness of Goya’s Caprices and the profound, bitter impact of Daumier’s caricatures of Parisian bourgeois life. In a more aggressive, insulting, and therefore less understanding mood, there's the harsh energy of Gilray's political cartoons.

Sculpture, painting and poetry, then, are among the greater fine arts those which express and arouse emotion by imitating or evoking real and known things, either for their own sakes literally, or for the sake of shadowing forth things not known but Unidealized imitation not fine art. imagined. In either case they represent their originals, not indiscriminately as they are, but sifted, simplified, enforced and enhanced to our apprehensions partly by the artist’s power of making things conform to his own instincts and preferences, partly by his other power of interpreting and emphasizing the significant characters of the facts before him. Any imitation that does not do one or other or both of these things in full measure fails in the quality of emotional expression and emotional appeal, and in so failing falls short, taken merely as imitation, of the standard of fine art.

Sculpture, painting, and poetry are among the major fine arts that express and evoke emotions by imitating or bringing to mind real, familiar things, either literally for their own sake or to suggest things that are unknown but imagined. In either case, they represent their originals, not just as they are, but filtered, simplified, heightened, and enhanced to our understanding, partly through the artist’s ability to make things align with their own instincts and preferences, and partly through their skill in interpreting and emphasizing the important aspects of the real world. Any imitation that fails to do one or both of these things sufficiently lacks emotional expression and emotional appeal, and in doing so, falls short, when viewed simply as imitation, of the standard of fine art.

But we must remember that idealized imitation, as such, is not the whole task of these arts nor their only means of appeal. There is another part of their task, logically though not practically independent of the relations borne by their imitations The appeal of the imitative arts depends partly on non-imitative elements. to the original phenomena of nature, and dependent on the appeal made through the eye and ear to our primal organic sensibilities by the properties of rhythm, pattern and regulated design in the arrangement of sounds, lines, masses, colours and light-and-shade. That appeal we noted as lying at the root of the art impulse in its most elementary stage. In its most developed stage every fine art is bound still to play upon the same sensibilities. In a work of sculpture the contours and interchanges of light and shadow are bound to be such as would please the eye, whether the statue or relief represented the figure of anything real in the world or not. The flow and balance of line, and the distribution of colours and light-and-shade, in a picture are bound to be such as would make an agreeable pattern although they bore no resemblance to natural fact (as, indeed, many subordinate applications of this art, in decorative painting and geometrical and other ornaments, do, we know, give pleasure though they represent nothing). The 369 sound of a line or verse in poetry is bound to be such as would thrill the physical ear in hearing, or the mental ear in reading, with a delightful excitement even though the meaning went for nothing. If the imitative arts are to touch and elevate the emotions, if they are to afford permanent delight of the due pitch and volume, it is not a more essential law that their imitation, merely as such, should be of the order which we have defined as ideal, than that they should at the same time exhibit these independent effects which they share with the non-imitative group.

But we must remember that idealized imitation, as such, isn’t the entire goal of these arts or their only way to connect with people. There’s another aspect of their task that, while logically distinct from how their imitations relate to the original aspects of nature, still depends on the way they appeal to our basic human sensibilities through the eye and ear, showcasing the properties of rhythm, pattern, and organized design in the arrangement of sounds, lines, shapes, colors, and light-and-shadow. This appeal is fundamental to the artistic impulse from its most basic form. In its most advanced form, every fine art still engages these same sensibilities. In a sculpture, the shapes and interactions of light and shadow are crafted to be visually pleasing, regardless of whether the statue or relief depicts something real or not. The flow and balance of lines, as well as the arrangement of colors and light-and-shadow in a painting, are designed to create a pleasing pattern even if they do not resemble actual reality (as we know many decorative applications of this art, like painting and geometric ornaments, can provide pleasure without depicting anything). The sound of a line or verse in poetry is intended to resonate with both the physical ear in listening and the mental ear in reading, creating a delightful excitement even if the meaning is irrelevant. If the imitative arts are to touch and uplift emotions and provide lasting joy at the right intensity and volume, it’s just as important that their imitation be of the ideal kind we’ve defined, as it is that they also show these independent effects that they share with the non-imitative group.

So far we have assumed, without asserting, the necessity that the artist in whatever kind should possess a power of execution, or technique as it is called in modern phrase, adequate to the task of embodying and giving shape to his ideals. Necessity of due balance between conception and technique: the non-imitative arts and their technique. In thought it is possible to separate the conception of a work of art from its execution; in practice it is not possible, and half the errors in criticism and speculation about the fine arts spring from failing to realize that an artistic conception can only be brought home to us through and by its appropriate embodiment. Whatever the artist’s cast of imagination or degree of sensibility may be in presence of the materials of life, it is essential that he should be able to express himself appropriately in the material of his particular art. To quote the writer (R.A.M. Stevenson) who has enforced this point most clearly and vividly, perhaps with some pardonable measure of over-statement: “It is a sensitiveness to the special qualities of some visible or audible medium of art which distinguishes the species artist from the genus man.” And again: “There are as many separate faculties of imagination as there are separate mediums in which to conceive an image—clay, words, paint, notes of music.” ... “Technique differs as the material of each art differs—differs as marble, pigments, musical notes and words differ.” The artist who does not enjoy and has not with delighted labour mastered the effects of his own chosen medium will never be a master; the hearer, reader or spectator who cannot appreciate the qualities of skill, vitality and charm in the handling of the given material, or who fails to feel their absence when they are lacking, or who looks in one material primarily for the qualities appropriate to another, will never make a critic. The technique of the space-arts differs radically from that of the time-arts. So again do those of the imitative and the non-imitative arts differ among themselves. The non-imitative arts of music and architecture are in a certain degree alike in this, that the artist is in neither case his own executant (this at least is true of music so far as concerns its modern concerted and orchestral developments); the musical composer and the architect each imagines and composes a design in the medium of his own art which it is left for others to carry out under his direction. The technique in each case consists not in mastery of an instrument (though the musical composer may be, and often is, a master of some one of the instruments whose effects he in his mind’s ear co-ordinates and combines); it lies in the power of knowing and conjuring up all the emotional resources and effects of the various materials at his command, and of conceiving and designing to their last detail vast and ordered structures, to be raised by subordinate executants from those materials, which shall adequately express his temperament and embody his ideals.

So far, we’ve assumed, without claiming, that artists in any field need to have the skill or technique—what we’d call "execution" today—to shape and represent their ideas. The significance of balancing creativity and skill: the original arts and their methods. In theory, we can separate an artwork’s concept from its execution, but in reality, we can’t. Many mistakes in understanding art stem from the failure to realize that an artistic idea can only be effectively communicated through its proper form. No matter how imaginative or sensitive an artist may be regarding life’s materials, it’s crucial that they can express themselves effectively through their chosen medium. To quote the writer R.A.M. Stevenson, who expressed this point clearly—perhaps with a bit of exaggeration: “A sensitivity to the unique qualities of a visible or audible art medium sets the artist apart from other humans.” He also said: “There are as many distinct imaginative faculties as there are media for creating an image—clay, words, paint, music notes.” ... “Technique varies as the materials of each art form do—just as marble, pigments, musical notes, and words differ.” An artist who doesn’t love and hasn’t thoroughly mastered the effects of their medium will never truly excel; likewise, an audience member who can’t appreciate the skills, vibrancy, and appeal in how the material is handled—or who doesn’t notice when these qualities are missing, or who looks for one medium’s qualities in another—will never be a critic. The techniques used in arts related to space differ fundamentally from those in arts tied to time. The techniques for imitative arts and non-imitative arts also vary among themselves. The non-imitative arts of music and architecture are somewhat similar in that the artist in either case is not the one who executes the work (at least, this applies to music regarding its modern organized and orchestral forms); the composer and the architect each envision and design a concept in the medium of their art, which others are left to realize under their guidance. The technique in each case doesn’t just involve mastering an instrument (although a musical composer may be and often is a master of one of the instruments they coordinate and combine in their mind); it lies in being able to draw on and evoke all the emotional resources and effects of the various materials at their disposal and in conceiving and designing elaborate structures down to the last detail, to be built by other executants from those materials, which will express their temperament and embody their ideals.

In the imitative arts, on the other hand, the sculptor, unless he is a fraud, must be wholly his own executant in the original task of modelling his design in the soft material of clay or wax, though he must accept the aid of assistants whether The imitative arts and their technique: painting and sculpture. in the casting of his work in bronze or in first roughing it out from the block in marble. Too many sculptors have been inclined further to trust to trained mechanical help in finishing their work with the chisel; with the result that the surface loses the touch which is the expression of personal temperament and personal feeling for the relations of his material to nature. The artist in love with the vital qualities of form, or those of his own handiwork in expressing such qualities in modelling-clay, will never stop until he learns how to translate them for himself in marble. Proceeding to that imitative art which leaves out the third dimension of nature, and by so doing enormously increases the range of objects and effects which come within its power—proceeding to the art of painting, the painter is in theory exclusively his own executant, and in practice mainly so, though in certain schools and periods the great artists have been accustomed to surround themselves with pupils to whom they have imparted their methods and who have helped them in the subordinate and preparatory parts of their work. But the painter fit to teach and lead can by no means escape the necessity of being himself a master of his material, and his handling of it must needs bear the immediate impress of his temperament. His emotional preferences among the visible facts of nature, his feeling for the relative importance and charm of line, colour, light and shade, used whether for the interpretation and heightening of natural fact or for producing a pattern in itself harmonious and suggestive to the eye, his sense of the special modes of handling most effective for communicating the impression he desires, all these together inevitably appear in, and constitute, his style and technique. If he is careless or inexpert or conventional, or cold or without delight, in technique, though he may be animated by the noblest purposes and the loftiest ideas, he is a failure as a painter. At certain periods in the history of painting, as in the 13th and 14th centuries in Italy, the technique seems indeed to modern eyes wholly immature; but that was because there were many aspects of visible things which the art had not yet attempted or desired to portray, not because it did not put forth with delight its best traditional or newly acquired skill in portraying the special aspects with which it had so far attempted to grapple. At certain other periods, as in the later 16th and 17th centuries in the same country, the elements of inherited technical facility and academic pride of skill outweigh the sincerity and freshness of interest taken in the aspects of things to be portrayed, and the true balance is lost. At other times, as in much of the work of the 19th century, especially in England, painters have been diverted from their true task, and lost hold of intelligent and living technique altogether, in trying to please a public blind to the special qualities of their art, and prone to seek in it the effects, frivolous or serious, which are appropriate not to paint and canvas but to literature.

In the imitative arts, on the other hand, a sculptor, unless they're a fraud, has to be fully hands-on when modeling their design in clay or wax. They might need help from assistants when it comes to casting their work in bronze or roughly carving it out from a marble block. Too many sculptors tend to rely too much on skilled mechanical help when finishing their work with a chisel, which leads to a surface that lacks the personal touch that reflects their temperament and feelings about the relationship between their material and nature. An artist passionate about the vital qualities of form, or their own effort in expressing such qualities in modeling clay, won't stop until they can transform those qualities into marble themselves. Moving to the imitative art that excludes the third dimension of nature and thereby greatly expands the range of objects and effects available—when it comes to painting, the painter is theoretically entirely their own executor, and mostly so in practice. However, in certain schools and eras, great artists often have students around them to help with the subordinate and preparatory parts of their work, teaching them their methods. But a painter who is fit to teach and lead cannot avoid the need to be a master of their materials, and their handling of those materials must reflect their temperament. Their emotional preferences regarding the visible facts of nature, their appreciation for the relative importance and appeal of line, color, light, and shadow—whether used to interpret and enhance natural facts or to create a pattern that is pleasing to the eye—along with their understanding of the specific techniques most effective for conveying the impression they want, all these elements come together to form their style and technique. If they are careless, unskilled, conventional, cold, or lacking in joy with their technique, even if driven by the highest ideals, they will fail as a painter. At certain times in the history of painting, like during the 13th and 14th centuries in Italy, the technique seems immature to modern eyes, but that's because there were many aspects of visible things that the art hadn't yet attempted or wanted to depict, not because it didn't joyfully showcase its best traditional or newly acquired skills in portraying the aspects it had tackled. In other periods, like the late 16th and 17th centuries in the same country, inherited technical skill and academic pride overshadow the genuine interest and freshness in depicting various aspects, leading to a loss of the true balance. At other times, like much of the 19th century, particularly in England, painters have been sidetracked from their true purpose, losing touch with intelligent and vibrant technique in their efforts to please a public that is indifferent to the unique qualities of their art and seeks effects—whether trivial or serious—that are suited not to paint and canvas, but to literature.

Lastly, the poet and literary artist must obviously be the exclusive master of his own technique. No one can help him: all depends on the keenness of his double sensibility to the thrill of life and to that of words, and to his power of maintaining a Technique in poetry: the magic of words. just balance between the two. If he is truly and organically sensitive to words alone, and has learnt life only through their medium and not through the energies of his own imagination, nor through personal sensibility to the impact of things and thoughts and passions and experience, then his work may be a miracle of accomplished verbal music, and may entrance the ear for the moment, but will never live to illuminate and sustain and console. If, on the other hand, he has imagination and sensibility in full measure, and lacks the inborn love of and gift for words and their magic, he will be but a dumb or stammering poet all his days. There is no better witness on this point than Wordsworth. His own prolonged lapses from verbal felicity, and continual habit of solemn meditation on themes not always inspiring, might make us hesitate to choose him as an example of that particular love and gift. But Wordsworth could never have risen to his best and greatest self had he not truly possessed the sensibilities which he attributes to himself in the Prelude:

Lastly, the poet and literary artist must clearly be the sole master of his own technique. No one can assist him: everything hinges on his keen sensitivity to both the thrill of life and the magic of words, as well as his ability to keep a proper balance between the two. If he is genuinely sensitive only to words and has learned about life solely through them—not through the power of his imagination or his personal feelings about the impact of things, thoughts, passions, and experiences—then his work may be an impressive display of verbal music that can charm the ear for a moment, but it won't endure to enlighten, support, or comfort. Conversely, if he has a wealth of imagination and sensitivity but lacks the innate passion for and talent with words and their enchantment, he will remain a mute or hesitant poet throughout his life. There’s no better example of this than Wordsworth. His frequent lapses into awkward phrasing and his tendency to meditate on themes that aren't always inspiring might make us hesitant to see him as a prime example of that particular passion and talent. However, Wordsworth could never have achieved his finest and greatest self without genuinely having the sensibilities he claims in the Prelude:

“Twice five years

"Ten years"

Or less I might have seen, when first my mind

Or at least I might have seen, when my mind first

With conscious pleasure opened to the charm

With aware enjoyment opened to the charm

Of words in tuneful order, found them sweet

Of words arranged in a pleasing way, found them lovely.

For their own sakes, a passion, and a power;

For their own benefit, a passion, and a strength;

And phrases pleased me chosen for delight,

And phrases I liked were chosen for joy,

For pomp, or love.”

"For show, or love."

And again, expressing better than any one else the relation which words in true poetry hold to things, he writes:

And once more, better than anyone else, he captures the connection that words in true poetry have with reality, he writes:

“Visionary power

"Visionary power"

Attends the motions of the viewless winds,

Attends to the movements of the invisible winds,

Embodied in the mystery of words;

Embodied in the mystery of words;

There darkness makes abode, and all the host

There darkness resides, and all the beings

Of shadowy things work endless changes,—there,

Of shadowy things work endless changes,—there,

As in a mansion like their proper home,

As in a house like their real home,

Even forms and substances are circumfused

Even forms and substances are surrounded.

By that transparent veil with light divine,

By that clear veil with divine light,

And, through the turnings intricate of verse,

And through the complex twists of poetry,

Present themselves as objects recognized,

Present themselves as recognized objects,

In flashes, and with glory not their own.”

In flashes, and with glory that isn't theirs.

3. The Serviceable and the Non-Serviceable Arts.—It has been established from the outset that, though the essential distinction of fine art as such is to minister not to material necessity or practical use, but to delight, yet there are some among the Third classification: the serviceable and the non-serviceable arts. arts of men which do both these things at once and are arts of direct use and of beauty or emotional appeal together. Under this classification a survey of the field of art at different periods of history would yield different results. In ruder times, we have seen, the utilitarian aim was still the predominant aim of art, and most of what we now call fine arts served in the beginning to fulfil the practical needs of individual and social life; and this not only among primitive or savage races. In ancient Egypt and Assyria the primary purpose of the relief-sculptures on palace and temple walls was the practical one of historical record and commemoration. Even as late as the middle ages and early Renaissance the primary business of the painter was to give instruction to the unlearned in Bible history and in the lives of the saints, and to rouse him to moods of religious and ethical exaltation. The pleasures of fine art proper among the manual-imitative group—the pleasures, namely, of producing and contemplating certain arrangements rather than others of design, proportion, pattern, colour and light and shade, and of putting forth and appreciating certain qualities of skill, truth and significance in idealized imitation,—these were, historically speaking, by-products that arose gradually in the course of practice and development. As time went on, the conscious aim of ministering to such pleasures displaced and threw into the background the utilitarian ends for which the arts had originally been practised, and the pleasures became ends in themselves.

3. The Serviceable and the Non-Serviceable Arts.—It has been established from the beginning that, although the main distinction of fine art is to provide enjoyment rather than meet practical needs, there are some forms of art that serve both purposes simultaneously, combining utility with beauty or emotional impact. Looking at art across different periods in history would yield varied results under this classification. In earlier times, as we have seen, practical utility was still the primary focus of art, and much of what we now categorize as fine arts initially addressed the practical needs of individuals and communities; this was true not just among primitive or savage societies. In ancient Egypt and Assyria, the main purpose of relief sculptures on palace and temple walls was the practical one of preserving history and commemorating events. Even as recently as the Middle Ages and early Renaissance, the primary role of painters was to educate the unlearned about Bible stories and the lives of saints and to inspire them with feelings of religious and ethical uplift. The enjoyment derived from fine art in the manual-imitative category—specifically, the pleasure of creating and appreciating certain arrangements of design, proportion, pattern, color, and light and shade, as well as recognizing and valuing skills, truth, and significance in idealized representations—emerged as historical by-products that developed over time. Eventually, the intention to cater to these pleasures took precedence and overshadowed the original practical purposes for which these arts were practiced, turning these pleasures into goals in themselves.

But even in advanced societies the double qualities of use and 370 beauty still remain inseparable, among the five greater arts, in architecture. We build in the first instance for the sake of Among the greater arts, architecture alone exist primarily for service. necessary shelter and accommodation, or for the commemoration, propitiation or worship of spiritual powers on whom we believe our welfare to depend. By and by we find out that the aspect of our constructions is pleasurable or the reverse. Architecture is the art of building at once as we need and as we like, and a practical treatise on architecture must treat the beauty and the utility of buildings as bound up together. But for our present purpose it has been proper to take into account one half only of the vocation of architecture, the half by which it impresses, gives delight and belongs to that which is the subject of our study, to fine art; and to neglect the other half of its vocation, by which it belongs to what is not the subject of our study, to useful or mechanical art. It is plain, however, that the presence or absence of this foreign element, the element of practical utility, constitutes a fair ground for a new and separate classification of the fine arts. If we took the five greater arts as they exist in modern times by themselves, architecture would on this ground stand alone in one division, as the directly useful or serviceable fine art; with sculpture, painting, music and poetry together in the other division, as fine arts unassociated with such use or service. Not that the divisions would, even thus, be quite sharply and absolutely separated. Didactic poetry, we have already acknowledged, is a branch of the poetic art which aims at practice and utility. Again, the hortatory and patriotic kinds of lyric poetry, from the strains of Tyrtaeus to those of Arndt or Rouget de Lisle or Wordsworth’s sonnets written in war-time, may fairly be said to belong to a phase of fine art which aims directly at one of the highest utilities, the stimulation of patriotic feeling and self-devotion. So may the strains of music which accompany such poetry. The same practical character, as stimulating and attuning the mind to definite ends and actions, might indeed have been claimed for the greater part of the whole art of music as that art was practised in antiquity, when each of several prescribed and highly elaborated moods, or modes, of melody was supposed to have a known effect upon the courage and moral temper of the hearer. Compare Milton, when he tells of the Dorian mood of flutes and soft recorders which assuaged the sufferings and renewed the courage of Satan and his legions as they marched through hell. In modern music, of which the elements, much more complex in themselves than those of ancient music, have the effect of stirring our fibres to moods of rapturous contemplation rather than of action, military strains in march time are in truth the only purely instrumental variety of the art which may still be said to retain this character.

But even in advanced societies, the dual qualities of utility and beauty are still inseparable in architecture among the five major arts. We primarily build to provide necessary shelter and accommodation, or to commemorate, honor, or worship spiritual powers that we believe influence our well-being. Eventually, we realize that our constructions can either please us or not. Architecture is the art of building both for necessity and for enjoyment, and a practical guide to architecture must consider beauty and functionality as interconnected. However, for our current discussion, it is fitting to focus on one aspect of architecture’s purpose: the half that impresses us, delights us, and relates to fine art; while neglecting the other half that relates to useful or mechanical art. It is clear, though, that the presence or absence of this practical element provides a basis for a new and separate classification of the fine arts. If we examine the five major arts as they exist today, architecture would fit into a category of its own as the directly useful or serviceable fine art, while sculpture, painting, music, and poetry would form another category as fine arts that are not directly associated with use or service. This doesn’t mean that the divisions are completely distinct. Didactic poetry, as we have noted, is a branch of poetic art that aims for practicality and utility. Furthermore, the encouraging and patriotic types of lyric poetry, from the works of Tyrtaeus to those of Arndt, Rouget de Lisle, or Wordsworth’s wartime sonnets, can be said to belong to a phase of fine art that seeks to achieve one of the highest utilities: the stimulation of patriotic feeling and self-devotion. The same can be said for the music that accompanies such poetry. Similarly, a practical aspect—stimulating and focusing the mind towards specific goals and actions—could have been claimed for much of ancient music, where certain prescribed and elaborate melodic modes were thought to affect the courage and moral state of listeners. For instance, Milton describes the Dorian mood of flutes and soft recorders that eased the torments and restored Satan’s courage as he and his legions marched through hell. In contrast, modern music, with its more complex elements, tends to evoke moods of ecstatic contemplation rather than action. In truth, military march music is the only purely instrumental form of art that still retains this character.

To reinforce, however, the serviceable or useful division of fine arts in our present classification, it is not among the greater arts that we must look. We must look among the lesser or auxiliary arts of the manual or shaping group. The Other and minor arts of service subordinate to architecture. weaver, the joiner, the potter, the smith, the goldsmith, the glass-maker, these and a hundred artificers who produce wares primarily for use, produce them in a form or with embellishments that have the secondary virtue of giving pleasure both to the producer and the user. Much ingenuity has been spent to little purpose in attempting to group and classify these lesser shaping arts under one or other of the greater shaping arts, according to the nature of the means employed in each. Thus the potter’s art has been classed under sculpture, because he moulds in solid form the shapes of his cups, plates and ewers; the art of the joiner under that of the architect, because his tables, seats and cupboards are fitted and framed together, like the houses they furnish, out of solid materials previously prepared and cut; and the weaver and embroiderer, from the point of view of the effects produced by their art, among painters. But the truth is, that each one of these auxiliary handicrafts has its own materials and technical procedure, which cannot, without forcing and confusion, be described by the name proper to the materials and technical procedure of any of the greater arts. The only satisfactory classification of these handicrafts is that now before us, according to which we think of them all together in the same group with architecture, not because any one or more of them may be technically allied to that art, but because, like it, they all yield products capable of being practically useful and beautiful at the same time. Architecture is the art which fits and frames together, of stone, brick, mortar, timber or iron, the abiding and assembling places of man, all his houses, palaces, temples, monuments, museums, workshops, roofed places of meeting and exchange, theatres for spectacle, fortresses of defence, bridges, aqueducts, and ships for seafaring. The wise architect having fashioned any one of these great constructions at once for service and beauty in the highest degree, the lesser or auxiliary manual arts (commonly called “industrial” or “applied” arts) come in to fill, furnish and adorn it with things of service and beauty in a lower degree, each according to its own technical laws and capabilities; some, like pottery, delighting the user at once by beauty of form, delicacy of substance, and pleasantness of imitative or non-imitative ornament; some, like embroidery, by richness of tissue, and by the same twofold pleasantness of ornament; some, like goldsmith’s work, by exquisiteness of fancy and workmanship proportionate to the exquisiteness of the material. To this vast group of workmen, whose work is at the same time useful and fine in its degree, the ancient Greek gave the place which is most just and convenient for thought, when he classed them all together under the name of τέκτονες, or artificers, and called the builder by the name of ἀρχιτέκτων, arch-artificer or artificer-in-chief. Modern usage has adopted the phrase “arts and crafts” as a convenient general name for their pursuits.

To reinforce the practical classification of fine arts today, we don’t need to look among the major arts. Instead, we should focus on the lesser or supporting arts within the manual or shaping category. The weaver, the joiner, the potter, the smith, the goldsmith, the glass-maker, and countless craftsmen who create goods primarily for practical use also design them in a way that adds beauty for both the creator and the user. A lot of effort has gone into trying to categorize these lesser shaping arts within the bigger arts based on the methods used. For instance, pottery has been categorized under sculpture because the potter shapes their cups, plates, and ewers into solid forms; joinery has been linked with architecture because joiners create tables, chairs, and cabinets that are constructed similarly to buildings. Weavers and embroiderers, based on the effects they produce, have even been associated with painters. However, the reality is that each of these supporting crafts relies on its own materials and techniques, which cannot be accurately described by the terminology of the major arts without causing confusion. The most fitting classification for these crafts is the one we have now, where we consider them in the same group as architecture, not because any of them are technically related to architecture, but because, like it, they produce items that are both useful and beautiful. Architecture is the art of bringing together stone, brick, mortar, timber, or iron to create places where people can live and gather—houses, palaces, temples, monuments, museums, workshops, meeting places, theaters, defense structures, bridges, aqueducts, and ships. A skilled architect designs any of these structures to serve a purpose while also being beautiful. The lesser manual arts, often referred to as “industrial” or “applied” arts, complement this architectural work by providing useful and aesthetically pleasing items, each according to its own unique methods and skills. Some, like pottery, please users with their beautiful shapes, delicate materials, and decorative features; others, like embroidery, impress with rich fabrics and dual beauty in design; and some, like goldsmithing, showcase exceptional creativity and craftsmanship suited to the quality of the materials. In ancient Greece, these skilled workers, whose creations were both functional and fine, were aptly grouped under the title builders, meaning artificers, and builders were called architect, or chief artificer. Today, we commonly refer to these pursuits as “arts and crafts.”

III. Of the History of the Fine Arts.

III. The History of the Fine Arts.

Students of human culture have concentrated a great deal of attentive thought upon the history of fine art, and have put forth various comprehensive generalizations intended at once to sum up and to account for the phases and Current generalizations on the history of fine art: Hegel. vicissitudes of that history. The most famous formulae are those of Hegel, who regarded particular arts as being characteristic of and appropriate to particular forms of civilization and particular ages of history. For him, architecture was the symbolic art appropriate to ages of obscure and struggling ideas, and characteristic of the Egyptian and the Asiatic races of old and of the medieval age in Europe. Sculpture was the classical art appropriate to ages of lucid and self-possessed ideas, and characteristic of the Greek and Roman period. Painting, music and poetry were the romantic arts, appropriate to the ages of complicated and overmastering ideas, and characteristic of modern humanity in general. In the working out of these generalizations Hegel brought together a mass of judicious and striking observations; and that they contain on the whole a preponderance of truth may be admitted. It has been objected against them, from the philosophical point of view, that they too much mix up the definition of what the several arts theoretically are with considerations of what in various historical circumstances they have practically been. From the historical point of view there can be taken what seems a more valid objection, that these formulae of Hegel tend too much to fix the attention of the student upon the one dominant art chosen as characteristic of any period, and to give him false ideas of the proportions and relations of the several arts at the same period—of the proportions and relations which poetry, say, really bore to sculpture among the Greeks and Romans, or sculpture to architecture among the Christian nations of the middle age. The truth is, that the historic survey gained over any field of human activity from the height of generalizations so vast in scope as these are must needs, in the complexity of earthly affairs, be a survey too distant to give much guidance until its omissions are filled up by a great deal of nearer study; and such nearer study is apt to compel the student in the long run to qualify the theories with which he has started until they are in danger of disappearing altogether.

Students of human culture have focused a lot of careful thought on the history of fine art, presenting various broad generalizations aimed at summarizing and explaining the different phases and changes in that history. The most well-known theories come from Hegel, who viewed specific arts as being typical of and suited for particular forms of civilization and certain historical periods. For him, architecture was the symbolic art suited to times of vague and struggling ideas and was typical of ancient Egyptian and Asian cultures as well as the medieval era in Europe. Sculpture was the classical art suited to times of clear and self-assured ideas and was characteristic of the Greek and Roman periods. Painting, music, and poetry were considered the romantic arts, appropriate for times of complex and overwhelming ideas, and representative of modern humanity as a whole. In developing these generalizations, Hegel combined many insightful and striking observations, and it can be acknowledged that they generally contain a strong element of truth. Critics have argued from a philosophical standpoint that these theories overly conflate the definition of what the various arts theoretically are with considerations of what they have practically been in different historical contexts. From a historical perspective, a more valid criticism is that Hegel's definitions tend to focus too much on one dominant art chosen as representative of any given period, leading to misconceptions about the proportions and relationships of the various arts at the same time—like the actual relationship between poetry and sculpture among the Greeks and Romans, or between sculpture and architecture among the Christian nations in the Middle Ages. The reality is that a historical overview of any area of human activity, when drawn from sweeping generalizations like these, tends to be too broad to offer much useful guidance until its gaps are addressed through more detailed study; and this closer study often drives students to rethink the theories they started with until they risk disappearing entirely.

Another systematic exponent of the universe, whose system is very different from that of Hegel, Herbert Spencer, brought the doctrine of evolution to bear, not without interesting results, upon the history of the fine arts and their Herbert Spencer and the evolution theory. development. Herbert Spencer set forth how the manual group of fine arts, architecture, sculpture and painting, were in their first rudiments bound up together, and how each of them in the course of history has liberated itself from the rest by a gradual process of separation. These arts did not at first exist in the distinct and developed forms in which we have above described them. There were no statues in the round, and no painted panels or canvases hung upon the wall. Only the rudiments of sculpture and painting existed, and that only as ornaments applied to architecture, in the shape of tiers of tinted reliefs, representing in a kind of picture-writing the exploits of kings upon the walls of their temple-palaces. Gradually sculpture took greater salience and roundness, and tended to disengage itself from the wall, while painting found out how to represent solidity by means of its own, and dispensed with the raised surface upon which it was first applied. But the old mixture and union of the three arts, with an undeveloped art of painting and an undeveloped art of sculpture still engaged in or applied to the works of architecture, continued on the whole to prevail through the long cycles of Egyptian and Assyrian history. In the Egyptian 371 palace-temple we find a monument at once political and religious, upon the production of which were concentrated all the energies and faculties of all the artificers of the race. With its incised and pictured walls, its half-detached colossi, its open and its colonnaded chambers, the forms of the columns and their capitals recalling the stems and blossoms of the lotus and papyrus, with its architecture everywhere taking on the characters and covering itself with the adornments of immature sculpture and painting—this structure exhibits within its single fabric the origins of the whole subsequent group of shaping arts. From hence it is a long way to the innumerable artistic surroundings of later Greek and Roman life, the many temples with their detached and their engaged statues, the theatres, the porticoes, the baths, the training-schools, the stadiums, with free and separate statues both of gods and men adorning every building and public place, the frescoes upon the walls, the panel pictures hung in temples and public and private galleries. In the terms of the Spencerian theory of evolution, the advance from the early Egyptian to the later Greek stage is an advance from the one to the manifold, from the simple to the complex, from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous, and affords a striking instance of that vast and ceaseless process of differentiation and integration which it is the law of all things to undergo. In the Christian monuments of the early middle age, again, the arts, owing to the political and social cataclysm in which Roman civilization went down, have gone back to the rudimentary stage, and are once more attached to and combined with each other. The single monument, the one great birth of art, in that age, is the Gothic church. In this we find the art of applied sculpture exercised in fashions infinitely rich and various, but entirely in the service and for the adornment of the architecture; we find painting exercised in fashions more rudimentary still, principally in the forms of translucent imagery in the chancel windows and tinted decorations on the walls and vaultings. From this stage again the process of the differentiation of the arts is repeated. It is by a new evolution or unfolding, and by one carried to much further and more complicated stages than the last had reached, that the arts since the middle age have come to the point where we find them to-day; when architecture is applied to a hundred secular and civil uses with not less magnificence, or at least not less desire of magnificence, than that with which it fulfilled its two only uses in the middle age, the uses of worship and of defence; when detached sculptures adorn, or are intended to adorn, all our streets and commemorate all our likenesses; when the subjects of painting have been extended from religion to all life and nature, until this one art has been divided into the dozen branches of history, landscape, still life, genre, anecdote and the rest. Such being in brief the successive stages, and such the reiterated processes, of evolution among the shaping or space arts, the action of the same law can be traced, it is urged, in the growth of the speaking or time arts also. Originally poetry and music, the two great speaking arts, were not separated from each other and from the art of bodily motion, dancing. The father of song, music and dancing, all three, was that primitive man of whom so much has already been said, he who first clapped hands and leapt and shouted in time at some festival of his tribe. From the clapping, or rudimentary rhythmical noise, has been evolved the whole art of instrumental music, down to the entrancing complexity of the modern symphony. From the shout, or rudimentary emotional utterance, has proceeded by a kindred evolution the whole art of vocal music down to the modern opera or oratorio. From the leap, or rudimentary expression of emotion by rhythmical movements of the body, has descended every variety of dancing, from the stately figures of the tragic chorus of the Greeks to the kordax of their comedy or the complexities of the modern ballet.

Another systematic exponent of the universe, whose approach is very different from Hegel's, Herbert Spencer, applied the theory of evolution to the history of the fine arts and their development with some interesting results. Herbert Spencer explained how the manual group of fine arts—architecture, sculpture, and painting—were initially intertwined, and how each gradually separated from the others over time. These arts didn't first appear in the distinct and developed forms we recognize today. There were no free-standing statues, and no painted panels or canvases on walls. Only the basics of sculpture and painting existed, serving purely as decorations applied to architecture, in the form of colored reliefs depicting the exploits of kings on the walls of their temple-palaces. Over time, sculpture became more prominent and three-dimensional, disconnecting from the wall, while painting learned how to represent three-dimensionality on its own and moved away from the raised surfaces it was first applied to. However, the old blending of the three arts, with a still underdeveloped painting and sculpture, continued to dominate throughout the long cycles of Egyptian and Assyrian history. In the Egyptian palace-temple, we find a monument that is both political and religious, created through the combined efforts of all the artisans of the era. With its engraved and illustrated walls, half-detached statues, and its open, columned rooms—with column designs echoing the stems and flowers of the lotus and papyrus—along with an architecture that showcases immature sculpture and painting, this structure encapsulates the origins of all subsequent shaping arts. From there, it’s a long journey to the countless artistic environments of later Greek and Roman life, showcasing the many temples with detached and engaged statues, theatres, porticoes, baths, training schools, and stadiums, all adorned with separate statues of gods and humans in public spaces, alongside frescoes on walls and panel paintings displayed in temples and both public and private galleries. According to Spencer's theory of evolution, the shift from early Egyptian to later Greek art represents a move from the singular to the manifold, from simple to complex, from uniform to diverse, illustrating the tremendous and ongoing processes of differentiation and integration that govern all things. In the early Christian monuments of the middle ages, again, the arts, due to the political and social upheaval that led to the fall of Roman civilization, reverted to a basic stage, becoming once more associated and combined. The major artistic creation of that time was the Gothic church. Here, applied sculpture was expressed in infinitely rich and varied ways, but entirely for the enhancement of architecture; painting was more rudimentary, mostly seen in translucent imagery in stained glass windows and colored wall decorations. From this stage, the process of differentiating the arts occurred once again. Through a new evolution, more advanced and intricate than the previous period, the arts have reached where they are now; architecture serves a multitude of secular and civic purposes with equal grandeur, or at the very least an equal desire for grandeur, as it did in the middle ages, where it served worship and defense; detached sculptures enhance or are meant to enhance all our streets and commemorate our likenesses; the scope of painting has expanded from religion to encompass all life and nature, evolving into various branches such as history, landscape, still life, genre, anecdote, and more. In summary, these successive stages and repeated processes of evolution among shaping or spatial arts also apply to the growth of speaking or temporal arts. Initially, poetry and music, the two main temporal arts, were not separated from each other or from dance. The origins of song, music, and dance trace back to primitive humans who first clapped their hands, leapt, and shouted in rhythm at tribal festivals. From clapping, or the basic rhythm of noise, evolved the entire art of instrumental music, leading to the intricate complexities of modern symphonies. From shouting, or basic emotional expression, arose the entire art of vocal music, resulting in modern opera and oratorio. From leaping, or basic rhythmic expression through body movements, developed all varieties of dance, from the formal figures of the tragic Greek chorus to the comic *kordax* and the complexities of contemporary ballet.

That the theory of evolution serves usefully to group and to interpret many facts in the history of art we shall not deny, though it would be easy to show that Herbert Spencer’s instances and applications are not sufficient to sustain all the conclusions Weak and strong points of Spencer’s generalization. that he seems to draw from them. Thus, it is perfectly true that the Egyptian or Assyrian palace wall is an instance of rudimentary painting and rudimentary sculpture in subservience to architecture. But it is not less true that races who had no architecture at all, but lived in caverns of the earth, exhibit, as we have already had occasion to notice, excellent rudiments of the other two shaping arts in a different form, in the carved or incised handles of their weapons. And it is almost certain that, among the nations of oriental antiquity themselves, the art of decorating solid walls so as to please the eye with patterns and presentations of natural objects was borrowed from the precedent of an older art which works in easier materials, namely, the art of the weaver. It would be in the perished textile fabrics of the earliest dwellers in the valleys of the Euphrates and the Nile that we should find, if anywhere, the origins of the systems of surface design, whether conventional or imitative, which those races afterwards applied to the decoration of their solid constructions. Not, therefore, in any one exclusive type of primitive artistic activity, but in a score of such types equally, varying according to race, region and circumstances, shall we find so many germs or nuclei from which whole families of fine arts have in the course of the world’s history differentiated and unfolded themselves. And more than once during that history, a cataclysm of political and social forces has not only checked the process of the evolution of the fine arts, but from an advanced stage of development has thrown them back again to a primitive stage. Recent research has shown how the Minoan and Mycenaean civilizations in the Mediterranean basin, with their developed fine arts, must have perished and been effaced before the second growth of art from new rudiments took place in Greece. The great instance of the downfall of the Roman civilization need not be requoted. By Spencer’s application of the theory of evolution, not less than by Hegel’s theory of the historic periods, attention is called to the fact that Christian Europe, during several centuries of the middle age, presents to our study a civilization analogous to the civilization of the old oriental empires in this respect, that its ruling and characteristic manual art is architecture, to which sculpture and painting are, as in the oriental empires, once more subjugated and attached. It does not of course follow that such periods of fusion or mutual dependence among the arts are periods of bad art. On the contrary, each stage of the evolution of any art has its own characteristic excellence. The arts can be employed in combination, and yet be all severally excellent. When music, dancing, acting and singing were combined in the performance of the Greek chorus, the combination no doubt presented a relative perfection of each of the four elements analogous to the combined perfection, in the contemporary Doric temple, of pure architectural form, sculptured enrichment of spaces specially contrived for sculpture in the pediments and frieze, and coloured decoration over all. The extreme differentiation of any art from every other art, and of the several branches of one art among themselves, does not by any means tend to the perfection of that art. The process of evolution among the fine arts may go, and indeed in the course of history has gone, much too far for the health of the arts severally. Thus an artist of our own day is usually either a painter only or a sculptor only; but yet it is acknowledged that the painter who can model a statue, or the sculptor who can paint a picture, is likely to be the more efficient master of both arts; and in the best days of Florentine art the greatest men were generally painters, sculptors, architects and goldsmiths all at once. In like manner a landscape painter who paints landscape only is apt not to paint it so well as one who paints the figure too; and in recent times the craft of engraving had almost ceased to be an art from the habit of allotting one part of the work, as skies, to one hand, another part, as figures, to a second, and another part, as landscape, to a third. This kind of continually progressing subdivision of labour, which seems to be the necessary law of industrial processes, is fatal to any skill which demands, as skill in the fine arts, we have seen, demands, the free exercise and direction of a highly complex cluster both of faculties and sensibilities.

While we can't deny that the theory of evolution is useful for categorizing and interpreting many facts in art history, it's easy to demonstrate that Herbert Spencer's examples and applications don't fully support all the conclusions Strengths and weaknesses of Spencer’s generalization. he seems to derive from them. It's true that the walls of Egyptian or Assyrian palaces show rudimentary painting and sculpture that serve architecture. However, it's also true that cultures without any architecture, who lived in caves, have displayed impressive early forms of the other two art forms in different ways, like the carved or etched handles of their tools. It's likely that the art of decorating solid walls in a way that pleases the eye with patterns and representations of nature was influenced by an older craft, the art of weaving. If we’re looking for the origins of the design systems, whether decorative or realistic, that those cultures later applied to their structures, we should look at the lost textile art of the earliest people in the Euphrates and Nile valleys. Thus, rather than finding the roots of fine arts in just one specific type of primitive artistic activity, we should recognize a variety of types, which differ by culture, region, and context, that have given rise to numerous branches of fine arts throughout history. Time and again, during history, a surge of political and social forces has not only halted the evolution of fine arts but has pushed them back to more primitive stages after they had reached advanced levels. Recent studies have revealed that the Minoan and Mycenaean civilizations in the Mediterranean, with their sophisticated fine arts, must have fallen and disappeared before a new wave of artistic development emerged in Greece. We don’t need to rehash the significant collapse of Roman civilization. According to Spencer’s application of evolutionary theory, as well as Hegel’s theory of historical periods, it is noted that Christian Europe, during several centuries of the Middle Ages, presents a civilization similar to that of ancient Eastern empires in that its main and defining manual art is architecture, to which sculpture and painting are, as in those Eastern empires, once again subordinate. This doesn’t mean that times of fusion or mutual dependence among the arts are times of poor art. On the contrary, each phase of any art’s evolution has its own distinctive excellence. Arts can be combined and still be exceptional individually. When music, dance, acting, and singing came together in the Greek chorus, the combination likely achieved a relative perfection in each of the four elements, similar to the combined excellence in a contemporary Doric temple, which features pure architectural form, sculptural enhancements in designated spaces like pediments and friezes, and overall colored decoration. The extreme separation of any art from other arts, and the distinct branches within a single art, doesn’t necessarily promote perfection in that art. The process of evolution among the fine arts can, and has historically, often gone too far for the health of each art individually. Today, an artist tends to focus on either painting or sculpture, but it is recognized that a painter who can sculpt, or a sculptor who can paint, is often a more skilled master of both arts; during the height of Florentine art, the greatest artists were usually painters, sculptors, architects, and goldsmiths all at once. Similarly, a landscape painter who only paints landscapes may not do so well as one who also paints figures; and in recent times, engraving has nearly lost its artistic status due to assigning different parts of the work—like skies to one person, figures to another, and landscapes to yet another. This ongoing trend of dividing labor, which seems to be an unavoidable rule in industrial processes, is detrimental to any skill that, as we have noted, requires the free exercise and guidance of a highly complex set of abilities and sensitivities.

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In the second half of the 19th century a reaction set in against such over-differentiation of the several manual arts and crafts. This reaction is chiefly identified in England with the name of William Morris, who insisted by precept and Reaction against over-evolution amongst the fine arts. example that one form of artistic activity was as worthy as another, and himself both practised and trained others in the practice of glass-painting, weaving, embroidery, furniture and wall-paper designing, and book decoration alike. His example has been to some extent followed in most European countries, and efforts have been made to reunite the functions of artist and craftsman, and to set a limit to the process of differentiation among the various manual arts. In the vocal or time arts also, a reformer of high genius and force of character, Richard Wagner, rose to contend that in music the process of evolution and differentiation had gone much too far. Music, he urged, as separated from words and actions, independent orchestral and instrumental music, had reached its utmost development, and its further advance could only be an advance into the inane; while operatic music had broken itself up into a number of set and separate forms, as aria, scena, recitative, which corresponded to no real varieties of instinctive emotional utterance, and in the aimless production of which the art was in danger of paralysing and stultifying itself. This process, he declared, must be checked; music and words must be brought back again into close connexion and mutual dependence; the artificial opera forms must be abolished, and a new and homogeneous music-drama be created, of which the author must combine in himself the functions of poet, composer, inventor, and director of scenery and stage appliances, so that the entire creation should bear the impress of a single mind; to the creation of such a music-drama he accordingly devoted all the energies of his being.

In the second half of the 19th century, a backlash emerged against the excessive specialization of various manual arts and crafts. This reaction is mainly associated with William Morris in England, who argued, both in theory and through his own work, that all forms of artistic activity are equally valuable. He practiced and taught glass painting, weaving, embroidery, furniture and wallpaper design, as well as book decoration. His example has been somewhat followed across most European countries, where efforts have been made to reconnect the roles of artist and craftsman and to limit the differentiation among the various manual arts. In the realm of vocal or performance arts, a reformer of great talent and strong personality, Richard Wagner, emerged to argue that music had evolved and differentiated too much. He claimed that music, when separated from words and actions, including independent orchestral and instrumental works, had reached its peak, and any further development would only lead to emptiness. At the same time, operatic music had fragmented into numerous rigid forms such as aria, scena, and recitative, which didn't correspond to any genuine types of emotional expression, putting the art at risk of becoming stagnant and ineffective. He declared that this trend must be reversed; music and lyrics needed to be brought back into close connection and interdependence. The artificial forms of opera had to be eliminated, and a new, cohesive music-drama created, where the creator would take on the roles of poet, composer, inventor, and stage director, ensuring that the whole work reflected a single vision. He dedicated all his energy to the creation of such a music-drama.

It is thus evident that the evolution theory, though it furnishes us with some instructive points of view for the history of the fine arts as for other things, is far from being the whole key to that history. Another key, employed with Taine’s philosophy or natural history of the fine arts. results perhaps less really luminous than they are certainly showy and attractive, is that supplied by Taine. Taine’s philosophy, which might perhaps be better called a natural history, of fine art consists in regarding the fine arts as the necessary result of the general conditions under which they are at any time produced—conditions of race and climate, of religion, civilization and manners. Acquaint yourself with these conditions as they existed in any given people at any given period, and you will be able to account for the characters assumed by the arts of that people at that period, and to reason from one to the other, as a botanist can account for the flora of any given locality, and can reason from its soil, exposure and temperature, to the orders of vegetation which it will produce. This method of treating the history of the fine arts, again, is one which can be pursued with profit in so far as it makes the student realize the connexion of fine arts with human culture in general, and teaches him how the arts of any age and country are not an independent or arbitrary phenomenon, but are essentially an outcome, or efflorescence, to use a phrase of Ruskin’s, of deep-seated elements in the civilization which produces them. But it is a method which, rashly used, is very apt to lead to a hasty and one-sided handling both of history and of art. It is easy to fasten on certain obvious relations of fine art to general civilization when you know a few of the facts of both, and to say, the cloudy skies and mongrel industrial population of Protestant Amsterdam at such and such a date had their inevitable reflection in the art of Rembrandt; the wealth and pomp of the full-fleshed burghers and burgesses of Catholic Antwerp had theirs in the art of Rubens. But to do this in the precise and conclusive manner of Taine’s treatises on the philosophy of art always means to ignore a large range of conditions or causes for which no corresponding effect is on the surface apparent, and generally also a large number of effects for which appropriate causes cannot easily be discovered at all.

It’s clear that while the evolution theory provides us with some useful perspectives on the history of fine arts, as well as other subjects, it doesn’t fully explain that history. Another perspective, one that’s certainly flashy and appealing but perhaps not as insightful, is the approach suggested by Taine. His philosophy, which might be better described as a natural history of fine art, considers fine arts as the direct result of the specific conditions in which they are created—conditions related to race, climate, religion, civilization, and social customs. If you understand these conditions for a particular group at a certain time, you can explain the characteristics of that group's arts during that era, much like a botanist understands the plants that grow in a specific location by examining its soil, exposure, and temperature. This method of exploring the history of fine arts can be beneficial because it helps students recognize the connection between fine arts and broader human culture, showing that the arts of any era and region aren't random or arbitrary but are essentially a natural outcome, or "efflorescence," as Ruskin said, of deep-rooted elements within the civilization that produces them. However, if used carelessly, this method can lead to a superficial and one-sided understanding of both history and art. It’s tempting to link obvious relationships between fine art and general civilization when you have some basic facts about both. For instance, one might say that the dreary weather and mixed industrial population of Protestant Amsterdam during a certain time naturally reflected in Rembrandt's art, while the wealth and grandeur of the robust citizens of Catholic Antwerp were mirrored in Rubens' work. However, to explain this in the precise and definitive way that Taine does in his philosophy of art often overlooks a wide range of conditions or causes that don’t have an obvious connection, and tends to ignore many effects for which suitable causes are hard to identify.

These considerations have resulted in a reaction against Taine’s theories which goes probably too far. It is no complete confutation of his philosophy of art-history to contend, as has been done somewhat contemptuously by Criticisms and counter-criticisms on Taine’s methods. Professor Ernst Grosse and others, that the great artist, so far from representing the general tendencies of his time and environment, is commonly a solitary innovator and revolutionist, and has to educate and create his own public, often through years of obloquy or neglect. This is sometimes true when the traditions and ideals of art are undergoing revolution or swift experimental change, but hardly ever true in times of stable tradition and accepted ideals; and when true it only shows that the tendencies the innovating genius represents are tendencies which have till his time been working underground, and which he is born to bring into light and evidence. A new and revolutionary impulse in art, as in thought or politics, is like a yeast or ferment working at first secretly, affecting for a while only a few spirits, as a new epidemic may for a while only affect a few constitutions, and then gradually ripening and strengthening till it communicates itself to thousands. In its inception such a ferment is not, indeed, one of the obvious phenomena of the society in which it takes root, but it is none the less one of the most vital and significant phenomena. The truth is, that this particular efflorescence of human culture depends for its character at any given time upon combinations of causes which are by no means simple, but generally highly complex, obscure and nicely balanced. For instance, the student who should try to reason back from the holy and beatified character which prevails in much of the devotional painting of the Italian schools down to the Renaissance would be much mistaken were he to conclude, “like art, like life, thoughts and manners.” He would not understand the relation of the art to the general civilization of those days unless he were to remember that one of the chief functions of the imagination is to make up for the shortcomings of reality, and to supply to contemplation images of that which is most lacking in actual life; so that the visions at once peaceful and ardent embodied by the religious schools of art in the Italian cities are to be explained, not by the peace, but rather in great part by the dispeace, of contemporary existence, and by the longing of the human spirit to escape into happier and more calm conditions.

These considerations have led to a reaction against Taine’s theories that probably goes too far. It's not a complete dismissal of his philosophy of art history to argue, as some, including Professor Ernst Grosse, have done somewhat dismissively, that the great artist, rather than simply reflecting the general trends of their time and environment, is often a lone innovator and revolutionary who has to educate and cultivate their own audience, frequently facing years of criticism or neglect. This is sometimes true when the traditions and ideals of art are experiencing upheaval or rapid experimentation, but it’s rarely the case during stable periods of tradition and accepted ideals; and when it is true, it merely demonstrates that the trends the innovating genius signifies have been simmering beneath the surface until they are ready to be revealed. A new and revolutionary movement in art, much like in thought or politics, is initially like yeast or a ferment, working in secrecy and impacting only a few individuals at first—similar to how a new epidemic may initially affect only a handful of people—and then gradually growing and becoming stronger until it reaches thousands. At its start, such a ferment may not be one of the obvious features of the society in which it develops, yet it remains one of the most crucial and significant phenomena. The reality is that this particular burst of human culture depends on a combination of causes that are far from simple but are generally very complex, obscure, and finely balanced. For instance, a student who attempts to deduce from the sacred and elevated character prevalent in much of the devotional painting of the Italian schools during the Renaissance would be greatly mistaken if they were to conclude, “like art, like life, thoughts and manners.” They would not grasp the connection between the art and the broader civilization of that time unless they remember that one of the main roles of the imagination is to compensate for the shortcomings of reality, providing images of what is most absent in real life; thus, the visions—both peaceful and passionate—depicted by the religious art schools in the Italian cities can be explained not by the peace, but largely by the unrest of contemporary existence, and by the human spirit's desire to escape into happier and calmer conditions.

Any one of the three modes of generalization to which we have referred might no doubt yield, however, supposing in the student the due gifts of patience and of caution, a working clue to guide him through that immense region of Difficulty of combining the study of the manual with that of the vocal group of fine arts. research, the history of the fine arts. But it is hardly possible to pursue to any purpose the history of the two great groups, the shaping group and the speaking group, together. At some stages of the world’s history the manual and the monumental arts have flourished, as in Egypt and Assyria, when there was no fine art of words at all, and the only literature was that of records cut in hieroglyph or cuneiform on palace walls and temples, and on tablets, seals and cylinders. At other times and in other communities there has existed a great tradition and inheritance of poetry and song when the manual arts were only beginning to emerge again from the wreck of an old civilization, as in the Homeric age of Greece, or where they had never flourished at all except by imitation and importation, as in Palestine. In historic Greece all three divisions of the art of poetry, the epic, lyric and the dramatic, had been perfected, and two of them had again declined, before sculpture had reached maturity or painting had passed beyond the stage of its early severity. The European poetry of the middle ages, abundant and rich as it was alike in France and Provence, in Germany and Scandinavia, can yet not take rank, among the creations of human genius, beside the great masterpieces of Romanesque and Gothic architecture; it was in Italy only that Dante, before the end of that age, carried poetry to a place of equality if not of primacy among the arts. Taking the England of the Elizabethan age, we find the great outburst of our national genius in poetry contemporary with nothing more 373 interesting in the manual arts than the gradual and only half-intelligent transformation of late Gothic architecture by the adoption of Italian Renaissance forms imported principally by way of Flanders or France, together with a fine native skill shown in the art of miniature portrait-painting, and none at all worth mentioning in other branches of painting or in sculpture. If the course of poetry and that of the manual arts have thus run independently throughout almost the whole field of history, those of music and the manual arts have been more widely separated still. In ancient Greece music and poetry were, we know, most intimately connected, but of the true nature of Greek music we know but little, of that of the earlier middle ages less still, and throughout the later middle ages and the earlier Renaissance the art remained undeveloped, whether in the service of the church or in secular and popular use, and in both cases in strict subservience to words. The growth of independent music is entirely the work of the modern world, and will probably rank in the esteem of posterity as its highest spiritual achievement and claim to gratitude, when the mechanical inventions and applications of applied science, which now occupy so disproportionate a part of the attention of humanity, have become a normal and unregarded part of its existence.

Any one of the three ways of generalizing that we've mentioned could potentially provide, if the student has the right qualities of patience and caution, a working clue to navigate the vast area of research, the history of the fine arts. However, it's almost impossible to effectively study the history of the two major groups, the manual group and the vocal group, at the same time. At certain points in history, manual and monumental arts thrived, like in Egypt and Assyria, when there was no fine art of words at all, and the only literature consisted of records carved in hieroglyphs or cuneiform on palace walls and temples, as well as on tablets, seals, and cylinders. At other times and in other cultures, there was a strong tradition of poetry and song while the manual arts were just beginning to recover from the ruins of an old civilization, like in the Homeric age of Greece, or where manual arts had only survived through imitation and importing, like in Palestine. In historic Greece, all three divisions of poetry—epic, lyric, and dramatic—were perfected, and two of them had already declined before sculpture had matured or painting had moved past its early strictness. The European poetry of the middle ages, rich and abundant in France and Provence, Germany, and Scandinavia, still doesn’t match up to the great masterpieces of Romanesque and Gothic architecture in terms of human genius; only in Italy did Dante, by the end of that age, elevate poetry to a level of equality, if not superiority, among the arts. Looking at England during the Elizabethan era, we see the remarkable explosion of our national poetry coinciding with nothing more interesting in the manual arts than the gradual and half-hearted transformation of late Gothic architecture through the adoption of Italian Renaissance styles mainly imported via Flanders or France, along with a fine native skill in miniature portrait painting, and hardly anything noteworthy in other visual arts or sculpture. If poetry and manual arts have mostly followed their own paths through history, music and manual arts have been even more disconnected. In ancient Greece, music and poetry were closely linked, but we know very little about the true nature of Greek music, even less about that of the early middle ages, and throughout the later middle ages and early Renaissance, the art remained undeveloped in both church and popular contexts, strictly serving the needs of words. The development of independent music is completely a product of the modern world and will likely be seen by future generations as its greatest spiritual achievement and a significant reason for gratitude when the mechanical inventions and applications of applied science, which currently dominate human attention, become a normal, unremarkable part of daily life.

Moments in history there have no doubt been when literature and the manual arts, and even music, have been swept simultaneously along a single stream of ideas and feelings. Such a moment was experienced in France in 1830 and the following years, when (to choose only a few of the greatest names) Hugo in poetry, Delacroix in painting, and Berlioz in music were roused to a high pitch of consentaneous inspiration by the new ideas and feelings of romanticism. But such moments are rare and exceptional. On the other hand, it is very possible to take the whole of the shaping or manual group of fine arts together and to pursue their history connectedly throughout the course of civilization. By the history of art what is usually meant is indeed the history of these three arts with that of some of their subordinate and connected crafts. Leaving aside the arts of the races of the farther East, which, profoundly interesting as they are, have but gradually and late become known to us, and the relations of which with the arts of the nearer East and the Mediterranean are still quite obscure—leaving these aside, the history of the manual arts of architecture, painting and sculpture falls naturally into several great periods or divisions to some extent overlapping each other but in the main consecutive.

There have definitely been moments in history when literature, the visual arts, and even music were all influenced by the same ideas and emotions. One such moment occurred in France in 1830 and the following years, when (to highlight just a few of the most significant figures) Hugo in poetry, Delacroix in painting, and Berlioz in music were all inspired by the new ideas and feelings of romanticism. However, such moments are rare and exceptional. On the other hand, it is very possible to look at the entire group of fine arts together and trace their history throughout civilization. When we talk about the history of art, we usually refer to the history of these three main arts along with some of their related crafts. If we set aside the art of the distant Eastern races, which are deeply fascinating but have only gradually become known to us, and whose connections with the art of the nearer East and the Mediterranean are still quite unclear—if we ignore these, the history of the visual arts of architecture, painting, and sculpture can be divided into several major periods or categories that partially overlap but mostly follow a sequential order.

These periods are roughly as follows:—

These time frames are approximately as follows:—

1. The period of the great civilizations of Mesopotamia and the Nile, beginning approximately about 5000 B.C. Main divisions of the history of art. and ending, roughly speaking (but some of them much earlier), with the spread of Greek power and Greek ideas under Alexander. On the main characteristics of the art of these empires we have already had occasion to touch.

1. The era of the great civilizations of Mesopotamia and the Nile started around 5000 BCE Main periods in the history of art. and ended, generally speaking (though some ended much earlier), with the rise of Greek influence and ideas during Alexander's time. We've already had a chance to discuss the main features of the art from these empires.

2. The Minoan and Mycenaean period, partly contemporary with the above and dating probably from about 2500 to about 1000 B.C.; our knowledge of this is due entirely to quite recent researches, confined at present to certain points in Greece and Asia Minor, in Crete and other islands in the Mediterranean basin; enough has already been revealed to prove the existence of an original and highly developed palace-architecture and of forms of relief-painting and of all the minor and decorative arts more free and animated than anything known to Egypt or Assyria. (See Crete and Aegean Civilization.)

2. The Minoan and Mycenaean period, which overlaps with the earlier mentioned timeframe, likely spans from around 2500 to about 1000 BCE; our understanding of this era relies entirely on recent research focused on specific regions in Greece, Asia Minor, Crete, and other Mediterranean islands; enough has been uncovered to demonstrate the existence of a unique and highly advanced palace architecture, along with styles of relief painting and various decorative arts that are more dynamic and expressive than what is known from Egypt or Assyria. (See Crete and Aegean Civilization.)

3. The Greek and Roman period, from about 700 B.C. to the final triumph of Christianity, say A.D. 400. During the first two or three centuries of this period the Hellenic race, beginning again after the cataclysm which had swallowed up the earlier Mediterranean civilizations, carried to perfection its most characteristic art, that of sculpture, in the endeavour to embody worthily its ideas of the supernatural powers governing the world. Putting aside the monstrous gods of Egypt and the East, it found its ideals in varieties of the human form as presented by the most harmoniously developed specimens of the race under conditions of the greatest health, activity and grace. In the figures of Greek sculpture, both decorative and independent, and no doubt in Greek painting also (but of that we can only judge from such specimens of the minor handicrafts, chiefly vase-paintings, as have come down to us)—in these were set for the whole Western world the types and standards of human beauty, and in their grouping and arrangement the types and standards of rhythmical composition and design. Gradually human portraiture and themes of everyday life took their place beside representations of the gods and heroes. New schools struck out new tendencies within certain limits. But in the general standards of form and design there was in the imitative arts relatively little change, though towards the end there was much failure of skill, throughout the whole period. The one great change was in architecture. Greece had been content with the constructive system of columns and horizontal entablature, and under that system had invented and perfected her three successive modes or orders of architecture—the Doric, Ionic and Corinthian. The genius of Rome invented the round arch, and by help of that system erected throughout her subject world a thousand vast constructions—temple, palace, bath, amphitheatre, forum, aqueduct, triumphal gate and the rest—on a scale of monumental grandeur such as Greece had never known.

3. The Greek and Roman period, from around 700 BCE to the final victory of Christianity, around CE 400. During the first couple of centuries in this period, the Hellenic people, starting fresh after the disaster that destroyed earlier Mediterranean civilizations, perfected their most characteristic art, which was sculpture, in an effort to effectively represent their ideas of the supernatural forces governing the world. Setting aside the monstrous deities of Egypt and the East, they found inspiration in diverse representations of the human form, focusing on the most harmoniously developed examples of their race under conditions of peak health, activity, and grace. In Greek sculpture—both decorative and standalone—and likely in Greek painting as well (although we can only assess that from the surviving examples of minor crafts, mainly vase-paintings)—these works provided the Western world with the types and standards of human beauty, along with the types and standards of rhythmic composition and design. Over time, human portraiture and everyday life themes emerged alongside depictions of gods and heroes. New schools began to explore new styles within certain boundaries. Yet, when it came to the general standards of form and design in the imitative arts, there was relatively little change, although by the end, there was a noticeable decline in skill throughout the entire period. The one significant shift occurred in architecture. Greece was satisfied with its system of columns and horizontal entablature and had invented and perfected three successive architectural styles—the Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian. The genius of Rome, however, introduced the round arch, which enabled the construction of monumental structures—temples, palaces, baths, amphitheaters, forums, aqueducts, triumphal gates, and more—on a scale of grandeur that Greece had never experienced.

4. The Christian period, from about 400 to about 1400. The decay or petrifaction of the imitative arts which had set in during the latter days of Rome continued during all the earlier centuries of the Christian period, while the Western world was in process of remaking. Free painting and free sculpture practically ceased to exist. Roman architecture underwent modifications under the influence of the church and of the new conditions of life; the Byzantine form, touched at certain times and places with oriental influences, developed itself wherever the Eastern Empire still stood erect in decay; the Romanesque form, as it is called, in the barbarian-conquered regions of the west and north. Sculpture existed for centuries only in rudimentary and subordinate forms as applied to architecture; painting only in forms of rigid though sometimes impressive hieratic imagery, whether as mosaic in the apses and vaults of churches, as rude illumination in MSS. and service-books, or as still ruder altar-painting carried on according to a frozen mechanical tradition. As time went on and medieval institutions developed themselves, a gradual vitality dawned in all these arts. In architecture the introduction of the pointed or Gothic arch at the beginning of the 13th century led to almost as great a revolution as that brought about by the use of the round or vaulted arch among the Romans. The same vital impulse that informed the new Gothic architecture breathed into the still quite subordinate arts of sculpture and painting (the latter now including the craft of glass-painting for church windows) a new spirit whether of devotional intensity or sweetness, or of human pathos or rugged humour, with a new technical skill for its embodiment. We have not set down, as is usually done, a specifically Gothic period in art, for this reason. The characteristic of the whole Christian period is that its dominant art is architecture, chiefly employed in the service of the church, with painting and sculpture only subordinately introduced for its enrichment. It makes no essential difference that from the 5th to the 12th century the forms of this art were derived with various modifications from the round-arched architecture of the Empire, and that by the 13th century new forms both of construction and decoration, in which the round arch was replaced by the pointed, had been invented in France, and from thence spread abroad to Germany and Scandinavia, Great Britain, Spain, and last and most superficially to Italy. The essential difference only begins when the imitative arts, sculpture and painting, begin to emancipate and detach themselves, to exist and strive after perfection on their own account. This happened first and very partially in Italy with the artificers of the 13th and 14th centuries—with the sculptors Nicola, Giovanni, and Andrea Pisano; the Sienese group of painters, Duccio, Simone Martini, and the Lorenzetti; and the Florentine group, Cimabue (if Cimabue is not a myth), Giotto and the Giotteschi. The 374 development of the rapid and flowing craft of fresco in place of the laborious and piecemeal craft of mosaic (henceforth for several centuries almost lost) was a great aid to this movement. After a period of something like stagnation, the movement received a vigorous fresh impulse soon after 1400, at about which date in Italy (not till near a century later in northern Europe) the beginning of the Renaissance is usually fixed.

4. The Christian period, from about 400 to about 1400. The decline or stagnation of the imitative arts that began in the later days of Rome continued throughout the early centuries of the Christian era, while the Western world was being reshaped. Free painting and free sculpture almost disappeared. Roman architecture was modified under the influence of the church and new life conditions; the Byzantine style, occasionally influenced by Eastern styles, developed wherever the Eastern Empire was still in a state of decay; the Romanesque style emerged in the barbarian-conquered regions of the west and north. For centuries, sculpture existed only in basic and supporting forms related to architecture; painting existed only in rigid, though sometimes striking, hieratic imagery, whether as mosaics in church apses and vaults, as crude illumination in manuscripts and service books, or as even cruder altar paintings following a rigid mechanical tradition. Over time, as medieval institutions evolved, a gradual resurgence occurred in all these arts. In architecture, the introduction of the pointed or Gothic arch at the beginning of the 13th century caused a revolution almost as significant as the use of the round or vaulted arch by the Romans. The same invigorating spirit that inspired the new Gothic architecture infused the still-subordinate arts of sculpture and painting (now including the craft of glass-painting for church windows) with a new sense of devotion, sweetness, human emotion, or rugged humor, along with enhanced technical skill. We haven't specified a distinct Gothic period in art for this reason. The defining characteristic of the entire Christian period is that its dominant art form is architecture, primarily serving the church, with painting and sculpture only introduced secondary to enrich it. It doesn't make a difference that from the 5th to the 12th century, the forms of these arts derived various modifications from the round-arched architecture of the Empire, and that by the 13th century, new construction and decoration forms, replacing the round arch with the pointed arch, were invented in France and spread to Germany, Scandinavia, Great Britain, Spain, and finally, more superficially, to Italy. The fundamental difference begins only when the imitative arts, sculpture and painting, start to gain independence and strive for perfection on their own. This began first and only partially in Italy with the artisans of the 13th and 14th centuries—sculptors Nicola, Giovanni, and Andrea Pisano; the Sienese painters Duccio, Simone Martini, and the Lorenzetti brothers; and the Florentine group including Cimabue (if Cimabue isn’t a myth), Giotto, and the Giotteschi. The development of the fast and fluid craft of fresco, replacing the slow and piecemeal craft of mosaic (which would nearly vanish for several centuries), significantly aided this movement. After a period of stagnation, the movement received a strong new impulse soon after 1400, around which time in Italy (not until nearly a century later in Northern Europe), the start of the Renaissance is usually marked.

5. The Renaissance period, from about 1400 to about 1600. The passion for classic literature, stimulated by the influence of Greek scholars into Italy after the fall of Constantinople; the enthusiastic revival of classic forms of architecture by architects like Brunelleschi and Alberti; the achievements in sculpture and painting of masters like Donatello and Masaccio, based on a new and impassioned study of nature and the antique together; these are the outstanding and universally known symptoms of the Italian Renaissance in the second and third quarters of the 15th century. Promptly and contemptuously in Italy, much more gradually and incompletely in the north, Gothic principles of construction and decoration were cast aside for classical principles, as reformulated by eager spirits from a combined study of Roman remains and of the text of Vitruvius. To the ideal types of devout and prayer-worn, ascetic and spiritualized humanity (tempered in certain subjects with elements of the homely and the grotesque), which the spirit of the middle ages had dictated to the sculptor and the painter, succeeded ideals of physical power, beauty and grace rivalling the Hellenic. The personages of the Christian faith and story were brought into visible kindred with those of ancient paganism. In the hands of certain artists a fortunate blending of the two ideals yielded results of a poignant and unique charm, which for us, who are the heirs both of antiquity and the middle ages, is far from being yet exhausted. At the same time, the love alike of republics, great princes, churchmen, nobles and merchants for works of art gave employment to sculptors and painters on themes other than ecclesiastical. The taste for civic or personal commemoration, for portraiture, for illustrations of allegory, romance and classic fable, covered with pictures the walls of council halls, of public and private palaces, and of villas. The invention of the oil medium by the painters of Flanders, and its gradual adoption by the Venetians and other schools of Italy for all purposes except the external decorations of buildings, added enormously to the resources of the art in rivalry with nature, and to the splendour of its results as objects of pride and luxury. The glories of matured Italian art reacted, not always favourably, on the north. The great days of Flemish painting had been from about 1430 to 1500, before any appreciable influence of the Renaissance had touched the schools of Brussels, of Bruges or of Antwerp. By about 1520 the artists of those schools had begun, except in portraiture, to lose their native vigour and originality by contact with the alien south. Among the great artists of Germany in the first half of the 16th century the work of one or two, like Burgkmair and Holbein, shows Italian influence reconciled not unsuccessfully with native instinct; but Dürer, the greatest of them, remained in all essentials Gothic and German to the end. During the last half of the century, the Netherlands and Germany alike yielded little but work of mongrel Teutonized Italian or Italianized Teutonic type, until towards its close Rubens accomplished, in the fire of his prodigious temperament, a true fusion of Flemish and Venetian qualities, at the same time closing gloriously the Renaissance period properly so called, and handing on an example which irresistibly affected a great part of modern painting.

5. The Renaissance period, from around 1400 to about 1600. The excitement for classic literature, sparked by Greek scholars coming to Italy after the fall of Constantinople; the enthusiastic revival of classic architectural styles by architects like Brunelleschi and Alberti; the accomplishments in sculpture and painting by masters like Donatello and Masaccio, fueled by a fresh and passionate study of nature and antiques together; these are the standout and widely recognized signs of the Italian Renaissance in the mid-15th century. Quickly and dismissively in Italy, and more slowly and incompletely in the north, Gothic construction and decoration principles were replaced with classical ones, as reinterpreted by eager minds learning from Roman ruins and Vitruvius’s writings. The ideal representations of devout, prayerful, ascetic, and spiritual humanity (sometimes mixed with elements of the ordinary and the absurd), that the medieval spirit had encouraged for sculptors and painters, were replaced by ideals of physical strength, beauty, and grace rivaling those of the ancient Greeks. Figures from the Christian faith and narratives were depicted alongside those of ancient paganism. In the hands of certain artists, a successful blending of these two ideals produced works of striking and unique charm, which for us, who are heirs to both antiquity and the Middle Ages, is still far from being depleted. At the same time, the love for artworks among republics, powerful princes, church leaders, nobles, and merchants provided work for sculptors and painters on themes beyond religious ones. The desire for civic or personal memorials, portraiture, and illustrations of allegory, romance, and classic fables filled the walls of council chambers, public and private palaces, and villas with art. The invention of the oil medium by Flemish painters, and its gradual adoption by Venetian and other Italian schools for all purposes except building decorations, greatly enhanced the resources of art in competing with nature and elevated its results as objects of pride and luxury. The achievements of mature Italian art had mixed effects on the north. The peak of Flemish painting was from around 1430 to 1500, before the Renaissance had made a significant impact on the schools of Brussels, Bruges, or Antwerp. By about 1520, artists in those schools began to lose their native strength and originality, except in portraiture, due to their interaction with the foreign south. Among the prominent artists in Germany during the first half of the 16th century, the work of a few, like Burgkmair and Holbein, demonstrates a successful merging of Italian influence with local styles; however, Dürer, the greatest among them, remained fundamentally Gothic and German until the end. In the last half of the century, both the Netherlands and Germany produced little but a mixed type of Teutonized Italian or Italianized Teutonic work, until near its end, Rubens achieved, with his remarkable temperament, a true fusion of Flemish and Venetian qualities, marking a glorious conclusion to the Renaissance period itself, and setting an example that powerfully influenced much of modern painting.

6. Modern period, from about 1600 to the present time. During this period architecture remained in all European countries, until the 19th century, more or less completely under the influence of the Italian Renaissance. The principles of the classical revival had during a century or more of transition been gradually absorbed, first by France, then by Germany, the Low Countries, and Spain, and last by England, each country modifying the style according to its degree of knowledge or ignorance, its needs, instincts and traditions. Sculpture, which in the hands of the great masters of the earlier and later Renaissance in Italy had almost equalled its ancient glories, nay, in those of Michelangelo had actually surpassed them in the qualities at least of superhuman energy and intellectual expression—sculpture lost the sense of its true limitations, and entered, with the work of Bernini and even earlier, into an extravagant or “baroque” period of relaxed and bulging line, of exaggerated and ostentatious virtuosity. In this it followed the lead given by Italian architecture, by Jesuit church architecture especially, at and after the height of the Catholic reaction. From the monumental and memorial purposes which sculpture principally serves, it remained still, except in purely iconic uses, attached to or dependent on architecture. Not so painting, which asserted its independence more and more. In Protestant countries the old ecclesiastical patronage of the art had quite died out; in those that remained Catholic it continued, and even received a new stimulus from the anti-Protestant reaction. The demand for religious art was supplied with abundance of traditional facility, of technical accomplishment and devotional display, but with a loss of the old sincerity and inspiration. Almost all painting, even for the most extensive and monumental phases of decoration in church or palace or civic hall, was on canvas stretched over or fitted into its allotted space in the architecture, and the art of fresco, even in Venice, its last stronghold, was for a time neglected or forgotten. Portable paintings for princely or private galleries and cabinets became the chief and most characteristic products of the art. The subjects of painting multiplied themselves. All manner of new aspects of life and nature were brought within the technical compass of the painter. Besides devotional and classical subjects and portraiture, daily life in all its phases, down to the homeliest and grossest, the life of the parlour and the tavern, of field and shore and sea, with landscape in all its varieties, took their place as material for the painter. The truths of indoor and outdoor atmosphere were translated on canvas for the first time. The Dutchmen from about 1620 to 1670 were the most active innovators and path-breakers of modern art along all these lines. The greatest of them, Rembrandt, dealt, as has been said, like a master and a magician with the problems of human individuality as revealed in a mysterious colour and shadow world of his own invention. At the same time a painter of no less power in Spain, Velazquez, viewing the world in the natural light of every day, showed for the first time how vitally and subtly paint could render the relief and mutual values of figures and objects in space, the essential truth of their visible relations and reactions in the enveloping atmosphere. The achievement of these two victorious innovators has only come to be fully understood in our own day. The simultaneous conquest of Claude le Lorrain, on the other hand, over the atmospheric glow of summer and sunset on the Roman Campagna and the adjacent hills and coasts, found acceptance instantly, less perhaps for its own sake than because of the classical associations of the scenery which he depicted. The vast widening of the field of the painter’s art and multiplication of its subjects, which thus took place at the dawn of the modern period, were gains attended by one drawback, the loss, namely, of the sense of high seriousness and universal appeal which belonged to the art while its themes had been those of religion and classic story almost exclusively.

6. Modern period, from about 1600 to the present time. During this period, architecture in all European countries remained largely influenced by the Italian Renaissance until the 19th century. The principles of the classical revival were gradually absorbed over a century or more, first by France, then by Germany, the Low Countries, and Spain, and finally by England, with each country adapting the style based on its own knowledge, needs, instincts, and traditions. Sculpture, which had reached near-ancient levels of glory in the hands of the great masters of the earlier and later Renaissance in Italy—and had even surpassed them in the superhuman energy and intellectual expression found in Michelangelo's work—lost its understanding of true limitations. It entered an extravagant or "baroque" period characterized by relaxed and exaggerated forms, following the influence of Italian architecture, especially Jesuit church architecture at the height of the Catholic reaction. Sculpture still primarily served monumental and memorial purposes and remained attached to or dependent on architecture, except for purely iconic uses. In contrast, painting increasingly asserted its independence. In Protestant countries, traditional ecclesiastical support for the art faded away, while in Catholic countries it persisted and even gained new energy from the anti-Protestant response. The demand for religious art was met with abundant traditional skill and devotional expression, though often at the cost of the old sincerity and inspiration. Most painting, including extensive decorations in churches, palaces, or civic buildings, was done on canvas stretched over or fitted into designated architectural spaces, while fresco, even in Venice, its final stronghold, was temporarily neglected or forgotten. Portable paintings for royal or private collections became the main focus of the art. The variety of painting subjects expanded significantly. New aspects of life and nature were included in the painter's technical skills. Alongside devotional and classical subjects, and portraits, daily life in all its forms—even the most mundane and crude—like the life in parlors, taverns, fields, shores, and seas, along with diverse landscapes, became material for painters. For the first time, the truths of indoor and outdoor atmospheres were expressed on canvas. From about 1620 to 1670, the Dutch were the most active innovators and pioneers in these areas of modern art. The greatest among them, Rembrandt, skillfully tackled the challenges of human individuality using his unique approach to color and shadow. Simultaneously, in Spain, Velazquez captured the world in natural light, demonstrating how paint could delicately represent the relief and interconnectedness of figures and objects in space, portraying their visible relationships and interactions within the surrounding atmosphere. The accomplishments of these two groundbreaking artists have only been fully appreciated in our own time. Meanwhile, Claude le Lorrain's mastery of the atmospheric effects of summer and sunset over the Roman Campagna and nearby hills and coasts was quickly recognized, not just for its own merits but also due to the classical associations of the landscapes he painted. The broadening of the painter's art and the increase in subjects at the start of the modern period were significant advancements, yet this also brought a drawback: the loss of the high seriousness and universal appeal that had defined the art when its themes were predominantly religious and classical stories.

During the three hundred or so years of the modern period, academical schools attempting, more or less unsuccessfully, to carry on the great Italian and classical traditions of the Renaissance have not ceased to exist side by Classical and romantic revivals. side with those which have striven to express new ways of seeing and feeling. Sometimes, as in France first under Louis XIV., and again for forty years from the beginning of the Revolution to the dawn of romanticism, such schools have succeeded in crushing out and discrediting all efforts in other directions. Between these two epochs, say from 1710 to 1780, French 18th-century ideals of social elegance and brilliant frivolity expressed themselves in forms of great accomplishment and vivacity both in poetry and sculpture, from the days of Watteau to those of Fragonard and Clodion. 375 At the same time England produced one of the finest and at the same time most national and downright masters of the brush in Hogarth; two of the greatest aristocratic portrait-painters of the world in Reynolds and Gainsborough, each of whom modified according to his own instincts the tradition imported in the previous century by Van Dyck, the greatest pupil of Rubens (Reynolds fusing with this influence those of Rembrandt and the Venetians in almost equal shares). Pastoral landscape in the hands of Gainsborough, classical, following Claude, in those of Wilson—these together with the humble but wholesome discipline of topographical illustration led on to the ambitious, wide-ranging and often inspired experiments of Turner, and to the narrower but more secure achievements of Constable in the same field, and made this country the acknowledged pioneer of modern landscape art. In the meantime the wave of classical enthusiasm which passed over Europe in the later years of the 18th century had produced in architecture generally a return to severer principles and purer lines, in reaction from the baroque and the rococo Renaissance styles of the preceding century and a half. In Italian sculpture, the same movement inspired during the Napoleonic period the over-honeyed accomplishment of Canova and his school; in northern sculpture, the more truly antique but almost wholly imitative work of Thorwaldsen, and the pure and rhythmic grace of the English Flaxman, a true master of design though scarcely of sculpture strictly so called. The same movement again was partly responsible in English painting and illustration from about 1770 to 1820 for much pastoral and idyllic work of agreeable but shallow elegance. In French painting the classic movement struck deeper. Along with much would-be Roman attitudinizing there was much real, if rigid, power in the work of David, much accomplished purity and sweetness in that of Prud’hon. The last and truest classic of France, and at the same time in portraiture the greatest realist, Ingres, held high the standard of his cause even through and past the great romantic revival which began with Géricault and culminated in Delacroix and the school of landscape painters who had received their inspiration from Constable. The main instincts embodied in the Romantic movement were the awakening of the human spirit to an eager retrospective love of the past, and especially of the medieval past, and simultaneously to a new passion for the beauties of nature, and especially of wild nature. Germany and England preceded France in this double awakening; in both countries the movement inspired a fine literature, but in neither did it express itself so fully and self-consciously through literature and the other arts together as it did in France when the hour struck. The revival of medieval sentiment in Germany had inspired comparatively early in the century the learned but somewhat aridly ascetic and essentially unpainterlike work of the group of artists who styled themselves Nazarener. In England the same revival expressed itself during a great part of the Victorian age in an enthusiastic return to the early Gothic ecclesiastical styles of architecture, a return unsuccessful upon the whole, because in pursuit of archaeological and grammatical detail the root qualities of right proportion and organic design were too often neglected.

During the roughly three hundred years of the modern era, academic schools have continued to exist, often with mixed success, trying to uphold the great Italian and classical traditions of the Renaissance alongside those that have aimed to express new ways of seeing and feeling. Sometimes, as in France under Louis XIV and again for a span of forty years from the beginning of the Revolution to the rise of Romanticism, these schools managed to suppress and discredit other artistic efforts. Between these two periods, say from 1710 to 1780, the 18th-century French ideals of social elegance and vibrant frivolity found expression in highly accomplished and lively forms in both poetry and sculpture, from Watteau to Fragonard and Clodion. At the same time, England was home to one of the best and most distinctly national masters of painting in Hogarth, and two of the world’s greatest portrait painters in Reynolds and Gainsborough, each of whom adapted the tradition brought over a century earlier by Van Dyck, the leading pupil of Rubens. Reynolds blended this influence with inspirations from Rembrandt and the Venetians. Gainsborough presented pastoral landscapes, while Wilson catered to classical themes, following Claude. These practices, combined with the humble yet impactful discipline of topographical illustration, paved the way for the ambitious and often groundbreaking experiments of Turner, alongside the more restrained but secure achievements of Constable in the same domain, establishing England as a recognized pioneer of modern landscape art. Meanwhile, the wave of classical enthusiasm that swept across Europe in the late 18th century led to a return to stricter principles and cleaner lines in architecture, counteracting the baroque and rococo Renaissance styles of the prior century and a half. In Italian sculpture, this movement inspired the excessively sweet execution of Canova and his school during the Napoleonic period, while northern sculpture saw more genuinely antiquated but largely imitative work from Thorwaldsen, as well as the pure and rhythmic elegance of the English Flaxman, a true master of design, though not strictly a sculptor. This same movement contributed to English painting and illustration from around 1770 to 1820, resulting in much pastoral and idyllic work characterized by agreeable but superficial elegance. In French painting, the classic movement had a deeper impact. Along with many attempts at Roman posturing, there was significant, albeit rigid, power in David's work and much refined purity and sweetness in Prud’hon's pieces. The last and truest classic of France, and simultaneously the most realist in portraiture, Ingres, maintained the standard for his cause even during and after the significant romantic revival that began with Géricault and peaked with Delacroix and the landscape painters inspired by Constable. The main impulses driving the Romantic movement were the awakening of the human spirit to a fervent love for the past—particularly the medieval past—and a new passion for the beauty of nature, especially the wild kind. Germany and England experienced this dual awakening before France; in both nations, the movement inspired remarkable literature, though neither expressed it as fully and consciously through literature and other arts together as France did when the moment arrived. The revival of medieval sentiment in Germany prompted relatively early in the century the learned but somewhat dryly ascetic and fundamentally un-painterly work of the group of artists calling themselves the Nazarener. In England, the same revival manifested during much of the Victorian era in an enthusiastic return to early Gothic ecclesiastical architectural styles, a movement that was largely unsuccessful because, in the quest for archaeological and grammatical detail, the fundamental qualities of proportion and coherent design were frequently overlooked.

Allied with this Gothic revival, and stimulated like it by the persuasive conviction and brilliant resource of Ruskin in criticism was the pre-Raphaelite movement in painting. Among the artists identified with this movement there was The pre-Raphaelites. little really in common except in impatience of the prevailing modes of empty academic convention or anecdotic frivolity. The name covered for a while the essentially divergent aims of a vigorous unintellectual craftsman like Millais, fired for a few years in youth by contact with more imaginative temperaments, of a strenuous imitator of unharmonized local colours and unsubordinated natural facts like Holman Hunt, and of born poets and impassioned medievalists like Rossetti and after him Burne-Jones. Meantime in France, putting aside the work of the great Delacroix, the impulse of 1830 expressed itself best and most lastingly in the monumental work of Daumier both in caricature and romance, the impressive and significant treatment of peasant life and labour by J.F. Millet, the vitally truthful pastoral and landscape work of Troyon, Corot, Daubigny and the rest.

Allied with this Gothic revival, and inspired by the persuasive conviction and brilliant resource of Ruskin in criticism, was the Pre-Raphaelite movement in painting. Among the artists associated with this movement, there was The Pre-Raphaelites. little in common except for a shared impatience with the dominant trends of empty academic convention or trivial anecdotes. The name temporarily encompassed the essentially different goals of a passionate craftsman like Millais, energized in his youth by contact with more imaginative individuals, a dedicated imitator of unblended local colors and unfiltered natural facts like Holman Hunt, and true poets and passionate medievalists like Rossetti and later Burne-Jones. Meanwhile, in France, aside from the work of the great Delacroix, the impulse of 1830 found its best and most enduring expression in the monumental works of Daumier in both caricature and narrative, the impactful and meaningful portrayal of peasant life and work by J.F. Millet, and the vibrantly truthful pastoral and landscape pieces by Troyon, Corot, Daubigny, and others.

Since the exhaustion of the Romantic movement, the other movements that have been taking place in European art have been too numerous and too rapid to be touched on here to any purpose. Both in sculpture and painting Contemporary tendencies. France has taken and held the lead. Mention has already been made of the special tendency in recent sculpture identified with the name and influence of Rodin. In painting there has been the fertilizing and transforming influence of Japan on the decorative ideals of the West; there have been successively the Realist movement, the movements of the Impressionists, the Luminists, the Neo-impressionists, the Independents, movements initiated almost always in Paris, and in other countries eagerly adopted and absorbed, or angrily controverted and denounced, or simply neglected and ignored according to the predilection of this or that group of artists and critics; there has been a vast amount of heterogeneous, hurried, confident and clamant innovating activity in this direction and in that, much of it perhaps doomed to futility in the eyes of posterity, but at any rate there has not been stagnation.

Since the Romantic movement wrapped up, so many new trends have emerged in European art that we can't cover them all here. France has consistently led the way in both sculpture and painting. We’ve already touched on the unique direction in recent sculpture linked to Rodin’s name and impact. In painting, Japan’s influence has rejuvenated and transformed Western decorative ideals; we've seen the rise of the Realist movement, followed by the Impressionists, Luminists, Neo-impressionists, and Independents—most of these movements started in Paris and were eagerly embraced, fiercely opposed, or simply overlooked by different groups of artists and critics. There's been a whirlwind of diverse, rapid, assertive, and noisy innovation, much of which may seem pointless to future generations, but the art scene has definitely not stagnated.

Bibliography.—To attempt in this place anything like a full bibliography covering so vast a field would be idle. Many of the books necessary to a first-hand study of the subject are cited in the article Aesthetics. The following are some of the most important writings actually referred to in the text, English translations being mentioned where they exist: Aristotle, Poetics, edited with critical notes and a translation by S.H. Butcher (1898); S.H. Butcher, Aristotle’s Theory of Poetry and Fine Art, with a critical text and a translation of the Poetics (1902); Plato, Republic, bk. x. 596 ff., 600 ff. (Grote, iii. 117 ff.; Jowett, iii. 489 ff.); B. Bosanquet, Introduction to Hegel’s Philosophy of Fine Art (Ästhetik), translation with notes and prefatory essay (1896); The Philosophy of Art, an Introduction to the Science of Aesthetics, by Hegel and C.L. Michelet, trans. Hastie (1886); Schiller, Briefe über die ästhetische Erziehung des Menschen (trans, by G.J. Weiss, with preface by J. Chapman, 1845; also in Bohn’s Standard Library, 1846); Herbert Spencer, First Principles, ch. xxii.; Gottfried Semper, Der Stil (1860-1863); Hippolyte Taine, De l’idéal dans l’art (1867), Philosophie de l’art en Grèce (1869), Philosophie de l’art en Italie, Philosophic de l’art dans les Pays-Bas (translations in 5 vols. by J. Durand, New York, 1889); Karl Groos, Die Spiele der Menschen (1899; trans, by E.L. Baldwin, 1901), and Die Spiele der Tiere (2nd ed., 1907; trans, by E.L. Baldwin, 1898); Ernst Grosse, Die Anfänge der Kunst (1894; trans, in the Anthropological Series, 1894); Yrjö Hirn, The Origins of Art (1900); G. Baldwin Brown, The Fine Arts (2nd ed., 1902); Felix Clay, The Origins of the Sense of Beauty (1908). For a general history of the manual or shaping group of arts, C.J.F. Schnasse, Geschichte der bildenden Künste (2nd ed., 1866-1879), though in parts obsolete, is still unsuperseded. A very summary general view is given in Salomon Reinach, The Story of Art through the Ages (trans. by Florence Simmonds, 1904); a general history of the same group was undertaken by Giulio Carotti (English translation by Alice Todd, 1909).

References.—Trying to create a complete bibliography for such a vast topic would be pointless. Many of the essential books for a detailed study of the subject are cited in the article Aesthetics. The following are some of the key writings actually referred to in the text, with English translations noted where they are available: Aristotle, Poetics, edited with critical notes and a translation by S.H. Butcher (1898); S.H. Butcher, Aristotle’s Theory of Poetry and Fine Art, with a critical text and a translation of the Poetics (1902); Plato, Republic, bk. x. 596 ff., 600 ff. (Grote, iii. 117 ff.; Jowett, iii. 489 ff.); B. Bosanquet, Introduction to Hegel’s Philosophy of Fine Art (Ästhetik), translation with notes and introductory essay (1896); The Philosophy of Art, an Introduction to the Science of Aesthetics, by Hegel and C.L. Michelet, trans. Hastie (1886); Schiller, Briefe über die ästhetische Erziehung des Menschen (trans. by G.J. Weiss, with preface by J. Chapman, 1845; also in Bohn’s Standard Library, 1846); Herbert Spencer, First Principles, ch. xxii.; Gottfried Semper, Der Stil (1860-1863); Hippolyte Taine, De l’idéal dans l’art (1867), Philosophie de l’art en Grèce (1869), Philosophie de l’art en Italie, Philosophic de l’art dans les Pays-Bas (translations in 5 vols. by J. Durand, New York, 1889); Karl Groos, Die Spiele der Menschen (1899; trans. by E.L. Baldwin, 1901), and Die Spiele der Tiere (2nd ed., 1907; trans. by E.L. Baldwin, 1898); Ernst Grosse, Die Anfänge der Kunst (1894; trans. in the Anthropological Series, 1894); Yrjö Hirn, The Origins of Art (1900); G. Baldwin Brown, The Fine Arts (2nd ed., 1902); Felix Clay, The Origins of the Sense of Beauty (1908). For a general history of the manual or shaping group of arts, C.J.F. Schnasse, Geschichte der bildenden Künste (2nd ed., 1866-1879), though parts of it are outdated, remains unmatched. A brief overall view is provided in Salomon Reinach, The Story of Art through the Ages (trans. by Florence Simmonds, 1904); a general history of the same area was pursued by Giulio Carotti (English translation by Alice Todd, 1909).

(S. C.)

FINGER, one of the five members with which the hand is terminated, a digit; sometimes the word is restricted to the four digits other than the thumb. The word is common to Teutonic languages, cf. Dutch vinger and Ger. Finger; probably the ultimate origin is to be found in the root of the words appearing in Greek πέντε, Lat. quinque, five. (See Skeleton: Appendicular.)

FINGER, one of the five parts that make up the hand, a digit; sometimes the term refers specifically to the four fingers excluding the thumb. This word is common in Germanic languages, like Dutch vinger and German Finger; its ultimate origin likely traces back to the root of words related to the number five in Greek five and Latin quinque. (See Skeleton: Appendicular.)


FINGER-AND-TOE, Club Root or Anbury, a destructive plant-disease known botanically as Plasmodiophora Brassicae, which attacks cabbages, turnips, radishes and other cultivated and wild members of the order Cruciferae. It is one of the so-called Slime-fungi or Myxogastres. The presence of the disease is indicated by nodules or warty outgrowths on the root, which sometimes becomes much swollen and ultimately rots, emitting an unpleasant smell. The disease is contracted from spores present in the soil, which enter the root. The parasite develops within the living cells of the plant, forming a glairy mass of protoplasm known as the plasmodium, the form of which alters from time to time. The cells which have been attacked increase enormously in size and the disease spreads from cell to cell. Ultimately the plasmodium becomes resolved into numerous minute round spores which, on the decay of the root, are set free in the soil. A preventive is quicklime, the 376 application of which destroys the spores in the soil. It is important that diseased plants should be burned, also that cruciferous weeds, such as shepherd’s purse, charlock, &c., should not be allowed to grow in places where plants of the same order are in cultivation.

Fingers and toes, Club Root or Anbury is a harmful plant disease scientifically known as Plasmodiophora Brassicae. It targets cabbages, turnips, radishes, and other cultivated and wild plants in the Cruciferae family. This disease is classified as one of the Slime-fungi or Myxogastres. You can spot the disease by the presence of nodules or wart-like growths on the roots, which can swell significantly and eventually rot, producing a foul odor. The disease is transmitted through spores in the soil that invade the roots. The parasite grows inside the living plant cells, creating a slimy mass of protoplasm called plasmodium, which changes form over time. The affected cells greatly enlarge, allowing the disease to spread from one cell to another. Eventually, the plasmodium breaks down into many tiny round spores that are released into the soil when the root decays. To prevent this, quicklime can be used; applying it eliminates the spores in the soil. It’s crucial to burn any diseased plants and to keep cruciferous weeds, like shepherd’s purse and charlock, from growing in areas where related plants are cultivated.

Finger-and-Toe (Plasmodiophora Brassicae).

1, Turnip attacked by the disease, reduced.

1, Turnip affected by the disease, decreased.

2, A cell of the tissue containing the plasmodium; the smaller cells at the sides are unaffected.

2, A cell from the tissue that has the plasmodium; the smaller cells on the sides are not affected.

3, Infected cell, showing spore formation. 2, 3, highly magnified.

3, Infected cell, showing spore formation. 2, 3, highly magnified.


FINGER-PRINTS. The use of finger-prints as a system of identification (q.v.) is of very ancient origin, and was known from the earliest days in the East when the impression of his thumb was the monarch’s sign-manual. A relic of this practice is still preserved in the formal confirmation of a legal document by “delivering” it as one’s “act and deed.” The permanent character of the finger-print was first put forward scientifically in 1823 by J.E. Purkinje, an eminent professor of physiology, who read a paper before the university of Breslau, adducing nine standard types of impressions and advocating a system of classification which attracted no great attention. Bewick, the English draughtsman, struck with the delicate qualities of the lineation, made engravings of the impression of two of his finger-tips and used them as signatures for his work. Sir Francis Galton, who laboured to introduce finger-prints, points out that they were proposed for the identification of Chinese immigrants when registering their arrival in the United States. In India, Sir William Herschel desired to use finger-prints in the courts of the Hugli district to prevent false personation and fix the identity upon the executants of documents. The Bengal police under the wise administration of Sir E.R. Henry, afterwards chief commissioner of the London metropolitan police, usefully adopted finger-prints for the detection of crime, an example followed in many public departments in India. A transfer of property is attested by the thumb-mark, so are documents when registered, and advances made to opium-growers or to labourers on account of wages, or to contracts signed under the emigration law, or medical certificates to vouch for the persons examined, all tending to check the frauds and impostures constantly attempted.

FINGERPRINTS. The use of fingerprints as a method of identification (q.v.) dates back to ancient times and was known since the early days in the East when the impression of a monarch's thumb served as their signature. A remnant of this practice is still seen in the formal confirmation of legal documents by “delivering” them as one’s “act and deed.” The permanent nature of fingerprints was first scientifically proposed in 1823 by J.E. Purkinje, a notable physiology professor, who presented a paper at the University of Breslau, outlining nine standard types of impressions and promoting a classification system that didn’t attract much interest. Bewick, the English illustrator, fascinated by the fine details of the lines, made engravings of two of his fingertips and used them as signatures for his artwork. Sir Francis Galton, who worked to promote the use of fingerprints, points out that they were suggested for identifying Chinese immigrants when registering their arrival in the United States. In India, Sir William Herschel aimed to use fingerprints in the courts of the Hugli district to prevent impersonation and establish the identity of those executing documents. The Bengal police, under the wise leadership of Sir E.R. Henry, later chief commissioner of the London Metropolitan Police, effectively adopted fingerprints for crime detection, a practice that many public departments in India followed. A transfer of property is confirmed by a thumbprint, as are registered documents, advances to opium growers or laborers for wages, contracts signed under the immigration law, or medical certificates verifying the identities of those examined, all efforts aimed at reducing the frauds and deceits that are continually attempted.

The prints depend upon a peculiarity seen in the human hand and to some extent in the human foot. The skin is traversed in all directions by creases and ridges, which are ineradicable and show no change from childhood to extreme old age. The persistence of the markings of the finger-tips has been proved beyond all question, and this universally accepted quality has been the basis of the present system of identification. The impressions, when examined, show that the ridges appear in certain fixed patterns, from which an alphabet of signs or a system of notation has been arrived at for convenience of record. As the result of much experiment a fourfold scheme of classification has been evolved, and the various types employed are styled “arches,” “loops,” “whorls” and “composites.” There are seven subclasses, and all are perfectly distinguishable by an expert, who can describe each by its particular symbol in the code arranged, so that the whole “print” can be read as a distinct and separate expression. Very few, and the simplest, appliances are required for taking the print—a sheet of white paper, a tin slab, and some printer’s ink. Scars or malformations do not interfere with the result.

The prints rely on a unique feature found in the human hand and, to some extent, in the human foot. The skin has creases and ridges that run in all directions, which are permanent and do not change from childhood to old age. The lasting nature of the fingertip markings has been confirmed beyond doubt, and this widely accepted characteristic forms the foundation of the current identification system. When analyzed, the impressions reveal that the ridges follow specific patterns, leading to the creation of an alphabet of signs or a record-keeping system for convenience. Through extensive experimentation, a four-part classification scheme has been developed, with the types categorized as "arches," "loops," "whorls," and "composites." There are seven subclasses, all of which can be clearly identified by an expert who can describe each using its specific symbol in the established code, allowing the entire "print" to be interpreted as a unique and distinct representation. Only a few, simple tools are needed to take the print—a sheet of white paper, a tin slab, and some printer's ink. Scars or deformities don’t affect the result.

The unchanging character of the finger-prints has repeatedly helped in the detection of crime. We may quote the case of the thief who broke into a residence and among other things helped himself to a glass of wine, leaving two finger-prints upon the tumbler which were subsequently found to be identical with those of a notorious criminal who was arrested, pleaded guilty and was convicted. Another burglar effected entrance by removing a pane of glass from a basement window, but, unhappily for him, left his imprints, which were referred to the registry and found to agree exactly with those of a convict at large; his address was known, and when visited some of the stolen property was found in his possession. In India a murderer was identified by the brown mark of a blood-stained thumb he had left when rummaging amongst the papers of the deceased. This man was convicted of theft but not of the murder.

The unchanging nature of fingerprints has repeatedly helped solve crimes. For example, there was a thief who broke into a house and, among other things, helped himself to a glass of wine, leaving two fingerprints on the tumbler that were later found to match those of a notorious criminal who was arrested, confessed, and convicted. In another case, a burglar got in by removing a pane of glass from a basement window but, unfortunately for him, left his prints behind, which were checked against the registry and matched exactly with those of a known convict; his address was known, and when the police visited, some of the stolen property was found in his possession. In India, a murderer was identified by the brown mark of a blood-stained thumb he left when going through the papers of the deceased. This man was convicted of theft but not of the murder.

The keystone to the whole system is the central office where the register or index of all criminals is kept for ready reference. The operators need no special gifts or lengthy training; method and accuracy suffice, and abundant checks exist to obviate incorrect classification and reduce the liability to error.

The key to the whole system is the central office where the register or index of all criminals is kept for quick reference. The operators don’t need any special skills or extensive training; just method and accuracy are enough, and there are plenty of checks in place to prevent incorrect classification and minimize errors.

Authorities.—F. Galton, Finger Prints (1892), Fingerprint Directories (1895); E.R. Henry, Classification and Uses of Finger Prints; A. Yvert, L’Identification par les empreintes digitales palmaires (1905); K. Windt, R.S. Kodicek, Daktyloskopie. Verwertung von Fingerabdrücken zu Identifizierungszwecken (Vienna, 1904); E. Loeard, La Dactyloscopie. Identification des récidivistes par les empreintes digitales (1904); H. Faulds, Guide to Finger-Print Identification (1905); H. Gross, Criminal Investigation (trans. J. and J.C. Adam, 1907).

Authorities.—F. Galton, Fingerprints (1892), Fingerprint Directories (1895); E.R. Henry, Classification and Uses of Fingerprints; A. Yvert, Identification by Palm Fingerprints (1905); K. Windt, R.S. Kodicek, Dactyloscopy: Using Fingerprints for Identification (Vienna, 1904); E. Loeard, Dactyloscopy: Identification of Repeat Offenders by Fingerprints (1904); H. Faulds, Guide to Fingerprint Identification (1905); H. Gross, Criminal Investigation (trans. J. and J.C. Adam, 1907).

(A. G.)

FINGO, or Fengu (Ama-Fengu, “wanderers”), a Bantu-Negro people, allied to the Zulu family, who have given their name to the district of Fingoland, the S.W. portion of the Transkei division of the Cape province. The Fingo tribes were formed from the nations broken up by Chaka and his Zulu; after some years of oppression by the Xosa they appealed to the Cape government in 1835, and were permitted by Sir Benjamin D’Urban to settle on the banks of the Great Fish river. They have been always loyal to the British, and have steadily advanced in social respects. They have largely adapted themselves to western culture, wearing European clothes, supporting their schools by voluntary contributions, editing newspapers, translating English poetry, and setting their national songs to correct music. The majority call themselves Christians and many of them have intermarried with Europeans. (See Kaffirs.)

FINGO, or Fengu (Ama-Fengu, “wanderers”), is a Bantu-Negro group related to the Zulu family, who gave their name to the Fingoland region, located in the southwestern part of the Transkei division of the Cape province. The Fingo tribes were created from nations disrupted by Chaka and his Zulu; after enduring several years of oppression from the Xhosa, they sought help from the Cape government in 1835, and Sir Benjamin D’Urban allowed them to settle along the banks of the Great Fish River. They have consistently shown loyalty to the British and have made steady social progress. They have largely embraced Western culture, wearing European-style clothing, funding their schools through voluntary donations, editing newspapers, translating English poetry, and composing music for their national songs. Most identify as Christians, and many have married Europeans. (See Kaffirs.)


FINIAL (a variant of “final”; Lat. finis, end), an architectural term for the termination of a pinnacle, gable end, buttress, or canopy, consisting of a bunch of foliage, which bears a close affinity to the crockets (q.v.) running up the gables, turrets or spires, and in some cases may be formed by uniting four or more crockets together. Sometimes the term is incorrectly applied to a small pinnacle of which it is only the termination (see Epi).

FINIAL (a variant of “final”; Lat. finis, end), is an architectural term for the top part of a pinnacle, gable end, buttress, or canopy. It usually consists of a cluster of foliage, closely related to the crockets (q.v.) that run up the gables, turrets, or spires, and in some cases, it can be made by combining four or more crockets together. Sometimes, the term is incorrectly used to refer to a small pinnacle that is just the finishing point (see Epi).


FINIGUERRA, MASO [i.e. Tommaso] (1426-1464), Florentine goldsmith, draughtsman, and engraver, whose name is distinguished in the history of art and craftsmanship for reasons which are partly mythical. Vasari represents him as having been the first inventor of the art of engraving (using that word in its popular sense of taking impressions on paper from designs engraved on metal plates), and Vasari’s account was universally accepted and repeated until recent research proved it erroneous. What we actually know from contemporary documents of Finiguerra, his origin, his life, and his work, is as follows. He 377 was the son of Antonio, and grandson of Tommaso Finiguerra or Finiguerri, both goldsmiths of Florence, and was born in Sta Lucia d’Ognissanti in 1426. He was brought up to the hereditary profession of goldsmith and was early distinguished for his work in niello. In his twenty-third year (1449) we find note of a sulphur cast from a niello of his workmanship being handed over by the painter Alessio Baldovinetti to a customer in payment or exchange for a dagger received. In 1452 Maso delivered and was paid for a niellated silver pax commissioned for the baptistery of St John by the consuls of the gild of merchants or Calimara. By this time he seems to have left his father’s workshop: and we know that he was in partnership with Piero di Bartolommeo di Sali and the great Antonio Pollaiuolo in 1457, when the firm had an order for a pair of fine silver candlesticks for the church of San Jacopo at Pistoia. In 1459 we find Finiguerra noted in the house-book of Giovanni Rucellai as one of several distinguished artists with whose works the Casa Rucellai was adorned. In 1462 he is recorded as having supplied another wealthy Florentine, Cino di Filippo Rinuccini, with waist-buckles, and in the years next following with forks and spoons for christening presents. In 1463 he drew cartoons, the heads of which were coloured by Alessio Baldovinetti, for five or more figures for the sacristy of the duomo, which was being decorated in wood inlay by a group of artists with Giuliano da Maiano at their head. On the 14th of December 1464 Maso Finiguerra made his will, and died shortly afterwards.

FINIGUERRA, MASO [i.e. Tommy] (1426-1464), Florentine goldsmith, draughtsman, and engraver, is noted in the history of art and craftsmanship for partly mythical reasons. Vasari portrays him as the first inventor of engraving (understood as making prints on paper from designs etched on metal plates), and this account was widely accepted until recent research found it to be inaccurate. What we actually know from contemporary documents about Finiguerra, his background, life, and work, is as follows. He 377 was the son of Antonio and grandson of Tommaso Finiguerra or Finiguerri, both goldsmiths in Florence, and was born in Sta Lucia d’Ognissanti in 1426. He was raised in the family trade of goldsmithing and quickly became known for his work in niello. By the age of twenty-three (1449), a sulphur cast from one of his niello pieces was handed over by painter Alessio Baldovinetti to a customer as payment for a dagger. In 1452, Maso delivered and was paid for a niellated silver pax commissioned for the baptistery of St John by the merchants' guild or Calimara. By then, he seems to have left his father's workshop; records show he partnered with Piero di Bartolommeo di Sali and the renowned Antonio Pollaiuolo in 1457, when their firm received an order for a pair of fine silver candlesticks for the church of San Jacopo in Pistoia. In 1459, Finiguerra was listed in the house-book of Giovanni Rucellai as one of several prominent artists whose work adorned the Casa Rucellai. In 1462, he is noted for providing another wealthy Florentine, Cino di Filippo Rinuccini, with waist-buckles and in the following years with forks and spoons as christening gifts. In 1463, he created cartoons, with heads rendered in color by Alessio Baldovinetti, for five or more figures for the sacristy of the duomo, which was being decorated with wood inlay by a group of artists led by Giuliano da Maiano. On December 14, 1464, Maso Finiguerra made his will and died shortly thereafter.

These documentary facts are supplemented by several writers of the next generation with statements more or less authoritative. Thus Baccio Bandinelli says that Maso was among the young artists who worked under Ghiberti on the famous gates of the baptistery; Benvenuto Cellini that he was the finest master of his day in the art of niello engraving, and that his masterpiece was a pax of the Crucifixion in the baptistery of St John; that being no great draughtsman, he in most cases, including that of the above-mentioned pax, worked from drawings by Antonio Pollaiuolo. Vasari, on the other hand, allowing that Maso was a much inferior draughtsman to Pollaiuolo, mentions nevertheless a number of original drawings by him as existing in his own collection, “with figures both draped and nude, and histories drawn in water-colour.” Vasari’s account was confirmed and amplified in the next century by Baldinucci, who says that he has seen many drawings by Finiguerra much in the manner of Masaccio; adding that Maso was beaten by Pollaiuolo in competition for the reliefs of the great silver altar-table commission by the merchants’ gild for the baptistery of St John (this famous work is now preserved in the Opera del Duomo). But the paragraph of Vasari which has chiefly held the attention of posterity is that in which he gives this craftsman the credit of having been the first to print off impressions from niello plates on sulphur casts and afterwards on sheets of paper, and of having followed up this invention by engraving copper-plates for the express purpose of printing impressions from them, and thus became the inventor and father of the art of engraving in general. Finiguerra, adds Vasari, was succeeded in the practice of engraving at Florence by a goldsmith called Baccio Baldini, who, not having much invention of his own, borrowed his designs from other artists and especially from Botticelli. In the last years of the 18th century Vasari’s account of Finiguerra’s invention was held to have received a decisive and startling confirmation under the following circumstances. There was in the baptistery at Florence (now in the Bargello) a beautiful 15th-century niello pax of the Coronation of the Virgin. The Abate Gori, a savant and connoisseur of the mid-century, had claimed this conjecturally for the work of Finiguerra; a later and still more enthusiastic virtuoso, the Abate Zani, discovered first, in the collection of Count Seratti at Leghorn, a sulphur cast from the very same niello (this cast is now in the British Museum), and then, in the National library at Paris, a paper impression corresponding to both. Here, then, he proclaimed, was the actual material first-fruit of Finiguerra’s invention and proof positive of Vasari’s accuracy.

These documentary facts are backed up by several writers from the next generation with claims that are more or less authoritative. For instance, Baccio Bandinelli mentions that Maso was one of the young artists who worked under Ghiberti on the famous gates of the baptistery. Benvenuto Cellini states that he was the best master of his time in the art of niello engraving and that his masterpiece was a pax of the Crucifixion in the baptistery of St. John; despite not being a great draughtsman, he usually worked from drawings by Antonio Pollaiuolo, including that of the previously mentioned pax. Vasari, on the other hand, acknowledges that Maso was a much weaker draughtsman compared to Pollaiuolo but notes that there are several original drawings by him in his own collection, featuring both draped and nude figures, along with water-color histories. Vasari's account was confirmed and expanded upon in the following century by Baldinucci, who mentioned that he had seen many drawings by Finiguerra that were quite similar to Masaccio's style, adding that Maso was defeated by Pollaiuolo in a competition for the reliefs of the grand silver altar-table commission from the merchants’ guild for the baptistery of St. John (this renowned work is now housed in the Opera del Duomo). However, the paragraph by Vasari that has captured the attention of later generations is the one in which he credits this craftsman with being the first to make impressions from niello plates on sulfur casts and later on sheets of paper, and that he furthered this invention by engraving copper plates specifically for printing impressions from them, thereby becoming the inventor and father of engraving as a whole. Vasari adds that Finiguerra was followed in engraving practice in Florence by a goldsmith named Baccio Baldini, who, lacking much originality of his own, took his designs from other artists, especially Botticelli. In the late 18th century, Vasari's account of Finiguerra’s invention was considered to have received a definitive and surprising confirmation under certain circumstances. In the baptistery at Florence (now in the Bargello), there was a beautiful 15th-century niello pax of the Coronation of the Virgin. Abate Gori, a scholar and connoisseur of the mid-century, tentatively attributed this to Finiguerra; a later and even more enthusiastic expert, Abate Zani, first discovered, in Count Seratti’s collection at Leghorn, a sulfur cast from the very same niello (this cast is now in the British Museum), and then, at the National Library in Paris, a paper impression that corresponded to both. Here, he declared, was the actual material evidence of Finiguerra’s invention and undeniable proof of Vasari’s accuracy.

Zani’s famous discovery, though still accepted in popular art histories and museum guides, is now discredited among serious students. For one thing, it has been proved that the art of printing from engraved copper-plates had been known in Germany, and probably in Italy also, for years before the date of Finiguerra’s alleged invention. For another, Maso’s pax for the baptistery, if Cellini is to be trusted, represented not a Coronation of the Virgin but a Crucifixion. In the next place, its recorded weight does not at all agree with that of the pax claimed by Gori and Zani to be his. Again, and perhaps this is the strongest argument of any, all authentic records agree in representing Finiguerra as a close associate in art and business of Antonio Pollaiuolo. Now nothing is more marked than the special style of Pollaiuolo and his group; and nothing is more unlike it than the style of the Coronation pax, the designer of which must obviously have been trained in quite a different school, namely that of Filippo Lippi. So this seductive identification has to be abandoned, and we have to look elsewhere for traces of the real work of Finiguerra. The only fully authenticated specimens which exist are the above-mentioned tarsia figures, over half life-size, executed from his cartoons for the sacristy of the duomo. But his hand has lately been conjecturally recognized in a number of other things: first in a set of drawings of the school of Pollaiuolo at the Uffizi, some of which are actually inscribed “Maso Finiguerra” in a 17th-century writing, probably that of Baldinucci himself; and secondly in a very curious and important book of nearly a hundred drawings by the same hand, acquired in 1888 for the British Museum. The Florence series depicts for the most part figures of the studio and the street, to all appearance members of the artist’s own family and workshop, drawn direct from life. The museum volume, on the other hand, is a picture-chronicle, drawn from imagination, and representing parallel figures of sacred and profane history, in a chronological series from the Creation to Julius Caesar, dressed and accoutred with inordinate richness according to the quaint pictures which Tuscan popular fancy in the mid-15th century conjured up to itself of the ancient world. Except for the differences naturally resulting from the difference of subject, and that the one series are done from life and the other from imagination, the technical style and handling of the two are identical and betray unmistakably a common origin. Both can be dated with certainty, from their style, costumes, &c., within a few years of 1460. Both agree strictly with the accounts of Finiguerra’s drawings left us by Vasari and Baldinucci, and disagree in no respect with the character of the inlaid figures of the sacristy. That the draughtsman was a goldsmith is proved on every page of the picture-chronicle by his skill and extravagant delight in the ornamental parts of design—chased and jewelled cups, helmets, shields, breastplates, scabbards and the like,—as well as by the symmetrical metallic forms into which he instinctively conventionalizes plants and flowers. That he was probably also an engraver in niello appears from the fact that figures from the Uffizi series of drawings are repeated among the rare anonymous Florentine niello prints of the time (the chief collection of which, formerly belonging to the marquis of Salamanca, is now in the cabinet of M. Edmond de Rothschild in Paris). That he was furthermore an engraver on copper seems certain from the fact that the general style and many particular figures and features of the British Museum chronicle drawings are exactly repeated in some of those primitive 15th-century Florentine prints which used to be catalogued loosely under the names of Baldini or Botticelli, but have of late years been classed more cautiously as anonymous prints in the “fine manner” (in contradistinction to another contemporary group of prints in the “broad manner”). The fine-manner group of primitive Florentine engravings itself falls into two divisions, one more archaic, more vigorous and original than the other, and consisting for the most part of larger and more important prints. It is this division which the drawings of the Chronicle series most closely resemble; so closely as almost to compel the conclusion that drawings and engravings are by the same hand. The later division of fine-manner prints represent a certain degree of technical advance from the earlier, and are 378 softer in style, with elements of more classic grace and playfulness; their motives moreover are seldom original, but are borrowed from various sources, some from German engravings, some from Botticelli or a designer closely akin to him, some from the pages of the British Museum Chronicle-book itself, with a certain softening and attenuating of their rugged spirit; as though the book, after the death of the original draughtsman-engraver, had remained in his workshop and continued to be used by his successors. We thus find ourselves in presence of a draughtsman of the school of Pollaiuolo, some of whose drawings bear an ancient attribution to Finiguerra, while all agree with what is otherwise known of him, and one or two are exactly repeated in extant works of niello, the craft which was peculiarly his own; others being intimately related to the earliest or all but the earliest works of Florentine engraving, the kindred craft which tradition avers him to have practised, and which Vasari erroneously believed him to have invented. Surely, it has been confidently argued, this draughtsman must be no other than the true Finiguerra himself. The argument has not yet been universally accepted, but neither has any competent criticism appeared to shake it; so that it may be regarded for the present as holding the field.

Zani’s famous discovery, while still accepted in popular art histories and museum guides, is now discredited among serious scholars. For one, it has been proven that the art of printing from engraved copper plates had been known in Germany and probably Italy for years before Finiguerra’s supposedly invented it. Additionally, Maso’s pax for the baptistery, if we trust Cellini, represented not a Coronation of the Virgin but a Crucifixion. Furthermore, its recorded weight does not match that of the pax that Gori and Zani claim to be his. Again, and perhaps this is the strongest argument of all, all authentic records agree in depicting Finiguerra as a close associate in art and business of Antonio Pollaiuolo. Nothing is more distinct than the unique style of Pollaiuolo and his group; nothing is more different than the style of the Coronation pax, which clearly must have been designed by someone trained in a completely different school, namely that of Filippo Lippi. So this tempting identification must be discarded, and we have to search elsewhere for traces of Finiguerra’s real work. The only fully authenticated pieces that exist are the aforementioned tarsia figures, over half life-size, created from his sketches for the sacristy of the duomo. However, his hand has recently been tentatively recognized in a number of other works: first, in a set of drawings from the Pollaiuolo school at the Uffizi, some of which are actually inscribed “Maso Finiguerra” in a 17th-century script, probably that of Baldinucci himself; and second, in a very interesting and significant book of nearly a hundred drawings by the same hand, acquired in 1888 for the British Museum. The Florence series mostly depicts figures from the studio and the streets, appearing to be members of the artist’s own family and workshop, drawn directly from life. The museum volume, on the other hand, is a pictorial chronicle, imagined and showing parallel figures of sacred and secular history, in a chronological series from Creation to Julius Caesar, dressed and adorned with extravagant richness according to the fanciful images that Tuscan popular imagination conjured up in the mid-15th century of the ancient world. Aside from the differences arising from the subject matter—where one series is drawn from life and the other from imagination—the technical style and technique of both are identical and unmistakably point to a common origin. Both can be confidently dated, based on their style, costumes, etc., within a few years of 1460. They align perfectly with the accounts of Finiguerra’s drawings preserved by Vasari and Baldinucci, and they match the character of the inlaid figures in the sacristy in every respect. The fact that the draughtsman was a goldsmith is evident on every page of the picture-chronicle, showcasing his skill and extravagant pleasure in ornamental design—decorated and jeweled cups, helmets, shields, breastplates, scabbards, and the like—as well as the symmetrical metallic forms into which he instinctively stylizes plants and flowers. It's likely that he was also an engraver in niello, as figures from the Uffizi series are repeated in the rare anonymous Florentine niello prints of the time (the main collection of which, previously owned by the Marquis of Salamanca, is now in the cabinet of M. Edmond de Rothschild in Paris). That he was additionally an engraver on copper seems certain as the general style and many specific figures and features of the British Museum chronicle drawings are precisely matched in some of the early 15th-century Florentine prints that were once cataloged under the names of Baldini or Botticelli, but have more recently been carefully classified as anonymous prints in the “fine manner” (as opposed to another contemporary group in the “broad manner”). The fine-manner group of early Florentine engravings itself is divided into two categories, one more archaic, vigorous, and original than the other, consisting mostly of larger and more significant prints. This category closely resembles the drawings of the Chronicle series, almost compelling the conclusion that both the drawings and engravings are by the same artist. The later division of fine-manner prints shows a certain technical advancement over the earlier ones, having a style that is softer with elements of more classic grace and playfulness; their designs are often not original but borrowed from various sources, some from German engravings, some from Botticelli or a designer closely related to him, and some directly from the pages of the British Museum Chronicle book itself, with a softening and lightening of their rugged spirit; as though the book had remained in the workshop after the original draughtsman-engraver's death and continued to be used by his successors. We thus encounter a draughtsman from the Pollaiuolo school, whose drawings carry an ancient attribution to Finiguerra, while all align with what is known about him, and one or two are directly repeated in existing niello works, his unique craft; others are closely related to the earliest or nearly the earliest works of Florentine engraving, the similar craft that tradition claims he practiced, and which Vasari mistakenly believed he invented. It has been compellingly argued that this draughtsman must be none other than the true Finiguerra himself. This argument has not yet gained universal acceptance, but no competent criticism has emerged to undermine it; therefore, it may be regarded for now as prevailing.

Bibliography.—See Bandinelli in Bottari, Raccolta di lettere (1754), i. p. 75; Vasari (ed. Milanesi), i. p. 209, iii. p. 206; Benvenuto Cellini, I Trattati dell’ orificeria, &c. (ed. Lemonnier), pp. 7, 12, 13, 14; Baldinucci, Notizie dei professori di disegno (1845), i. pp. 518, 519, 533; Zani, Materiali per servire, &c. (1802); Duchesne, Essai sur les nielles (1824); Dutuit, Manuel de l’amateur d’estampes, vol. i. pref. and vol. ii.; and for a full discussion of the whole question, with quotations from earlier authorities and reproductions of the works discussed, Sidney Colvin, A Florentine Picture Chronicle (1898).

References.—See Bandinelli in Bottari, Raccolta di lettere (1754), i. p. 75; Vasari (ed. Milanesi), i. p. 209, iii. p. 206; Benvenuto Cellini, I Trattati dell’ orificeria, &c. (ed. Lemonnier), pp. 7, 12, 13, 14; Baldinucci, Notizie dei professori di disegno (1845), i. pp. 518, 519, 533; Zani, Materiali per servire, &c. (1802); Duchesne, Essai sur les nielles (1824); Dutuit, Manuel de l’amateur d’estampes, vol. i. pref. and vol. ii.; and for a full discussion of the entire topic, with quotes from earlier sources and reproductions of the works discussed, Sidney Colvin, A Florentine Picture Chronicle (1898).

(S. C.)

FINISHING. The term finishing, as specially applied in the textile industries, embraces the process or processes to which bleached, dyed or printed fabrics of any description are subjected, with the object of imparting a characteristic appearance to the surface of the fabric, or of influencing its handle or feel. Strictly speaking, certain operations might be classed under this heading which are conducted previous to bleaching, dyeing, &c; e.g. mercerizing (q.v.), stretching and crabbing, singeing (see Bleaching); but as these are not undertaken by the finisher, only those will be dealt with here which are not mentioned under other headings. By the various treatments to which the fabric is subjected in finishing, it is often so altered in appearance that it is impossible to recognize in it the same material that came from the loom or from the bleacher or dyer. On the other hand, one and the same fabric, subjected to different processes of finishing, may be made to represent totally different classes of material. In other cases, however, the appearance of the finished article differs but slightly from that of the piece on leaving the loom.

FINISHING. The term finishing, particularly in the textile industry, refers to the processes that bleached, dyed, or printed fabrics go through to give them a distinct look or to change their texture. Strictly speaking, some steps could be included here that happen before bleaching or dyeing, such as mercerizing (q.v.), stretching and crabbing, and singeing (see Bleaching). However, since these are not done by the finisher, we'll focus only on the treatments that aren't covered under other sections. Through the various finishing treatments, the fabric is often altered so much that it’s hard to recognize it as the same material that came from the loom or from the bleacher or dyer. Conversely, the same fabric can undergo different finishing processes and look completely different. In some cases, though, the finished product looks only slightly different from the piece as it came off the loom.

All processes of finishing are purely mechanical in character, and the most important of them depend upon the fact that in their ordinary condition (i.e. containing their normal amount of moisture), or better still in a damp state, the textile fibres are plastic, and consequently yield to pressure or tension, ultimately assuming the shape imparted to them. The old-fashioned box press, formerly largely used for household linen, owed its efficacy to this principle. At elevated temperatures the damp fibres become very much more plastic than at the ordinary temperature, the simplest form of finishing appliance based on this fact being the ordinary flat iron. Indeed it may safely be stated that most of the modern finishing processes have been evolved from the household operations of washing (milling), brushing, starching, mangling, ironing and pressing.

All finishing processes are purely mechanical, and the most important ones are based on the fact that in their normal condition (i.e. containing their usual amount of moisture), or even better in a damp state, textile fibers are flexible and can therefore bend under pressure or tension, ultimately taking on the shape given to them. The old box press, which was commonly used for household linens, was effective because of this principle. At higher temperatures, damp fibers become much more flexible than at regular temperatures, with the simplest finishing tool based on this being the flat iron. In fact, it can be confidently said that most modern finishing processes have developed from the traditional household tasks of washing (milling), brushing, starching, mangling, ironing, and pressing.

Cotton Pieces.—In the ordinary process of bleaching, cotton goods are subjected during the various operations to more or less continual longitudinal tension, and while becoming elongated, shrink more or less considerably in width. In order to bring them back to their original width, they are stretched or “stentered” by means of specially constructed machines. The most effective of these is the so-called stentering frame, which consists essentially of two slightly diverging endless chains carrying clips or pins which hold the piece in position as it traverses the machine. The length of a frame may vary from 20 to 30 yds. On the upper part of the frame the chains run in slots, and by means of set screws the distance between the two chains can be set within the required limits. The pieces are fed on to one end of the machine in the damp state by hand and are then naturally slack. But before they have travelled many yards they become taut, the stretching increasing as they travel along. Simultaneously with the stretching, the pieces are dried by a current of hot air which is blown through from below, so that on arriving at the end of the machine they are not only stretched to the required degree but are also dry. The machine used for stentering is more fully described under Mercerizing (q.v.). In case the goods come straight from the loom to be finished, stentering is not necessary.

Cotton Pieces.—In the regular bleaching process, cotton products go through various operations with constant longitudinal tension, and while they stretch, they also shrink significantly in width. To restore their original width, they are stretched or “stentered” using specially designed machines. The most effective of these is called a stentering frame, which mainly consists of two slightly diverging endless chains that hold the fabric in place as it moves through the machine. The length of a frame can range from 20 to 30 yards. The chains run in slots on the upper part of the frame, and set screws adjust the distance between the two chains to the required limits. The fabric is fed into one end of the machine while damp, so it's initially loose. However, after traveling a few yards, it becomes tight, with the stretching increasing along the way. At the same time, hot air is blown through from below to dry the fabric so that when it reaches the end of the machine, it is not only stretched to the desired extent but also dry. The machine used for stentering is described in more detail under Mercerizing (q.v.). If the fabric comes directly from the loom to be finished, stentering is not necessary.

Pieces intended to receive a “pure” finish pass on without further treatment to the ordinary finishing processes such as calendering, hot pressing, raising, &c. But in the majority of cases they are previously impregnated, according to the finish desired, with stiffening or softening agents, weighting materials, &c. Usually, starch constitutes the main stiffening agent, with additions of china clay, barium compounds, &c., for weighting purposes, and Turkey red oil, with or without the addition of some vegetable oil or fat, as the softening agent. Magnesium sulphate is also largely used in order to give “body” to the cloth, which it does by virtue of its property of crystallizing in fine felted needle-shaped crystals throughout the mass of the fabric. When starch is used in filling, it is advisable to add some anti-septic, such as zinc chloride, sodium silicofluoride, phenol or salicylic acid, in order to prevent or retard subsequent development of mildew. The impregnation of the pieces with the filling is effected in two ways, viz. either throughout the thickness of the cloth or on one surface only (back starching). When the whole piece is to be impregnated the operation is conducted in a starching mangle, which is similar in construction to an ordinary household mangle, though naturally larger and more elaborate in construction. The pieces run at full width through a trough situated immediately below the bowls and containing the filling (starch paste, &c.), then between the bowls, the pressure (“nip”) of which regulates the amount of filling taken up, and thence over a range of steam-heated drying cylinders (see Bleaching). In case one side only of the goods is to be stiffened—and this is usually necessary in the case of printed goods,—a so-called back-starching mangle is employed.

Pieces meant to have a “pure” finish go straight to the regular finishing processes like calendering, hot pressing, raising, etc., without any extra treatment. However, in most cases, they are pre-treated based on the desired finish using stiffening or softening agents, weighting materials, etc. Usually, starch is the main stiffening agent, with additions of china clay, barium compounds, etc., for weighting, and Turkey red oil, with or without added vegetable oil or fat, as the softening agent. Magnesium sulfate is also commonly used to give “body” to the fabric, which it does by crystallizing into fine needle-shaped crystals throughout the fabric mass. When starch is used in the filling, it's advisable to add an anti-septic like zinc chloride, sodium silicofluoride, phenol, or salicylic acid to prevent or slow down the growth of mildew. The impregnation of the pieces with the filling can be done in two ways: throughout the thickness of the cloth or just on one side (back starching). When impregnating the entire piece, the process takes place in a starching mangle, which is similar to a regular household mangle but larger and more complex. The pieces pass through a trough located directly below the bowls that contains the filling (starch paste, etc.), then between the bowls where the pressure (“nip”) regulates the amount of filling taken up, and finally over a series of steam-heated drying cylinders (see Bleaching). If only one side of the goods needs to be stiffened—this is usually the case for printed goods—a back-starching mangle is used.

Fig. 1.—Principle of Back-Starching Machine.

The construction of the machine varies, but the simplest form consists essentially of a wooden bowl a (Fig. 1) which runs in the starch paste contained in trough t. The pieces pass from the batch-roller B, through scrimp rails S and over the bowl under tension, touching the surface from which they gather the starch paste. By means of the fixed “doctor” blade d, which extends across the piece, the paste is levelled on the surface of the fabric and excess scraped off, falling back into the trough. The goods are then dried with the face side to the cylinders.

The design of the machine can vary, but the simplest version mainly consists of a wooden bowl a (Fig. 1) that operates in the starch paste found in the trough t. The pieces move from the batch-roller B, through the scrimp rails S, and over the bowl under tension, making contact with the surface to collect the starch paste. A fixed "doctor" blade d that stretches across the piece levels the paste on the fabric's surface and removes excess, which falls back into the trough. The goods are then dried with the front side facing the cylinders.

Some goods come into the market with no further treatment after starching other than running through a mangle with a little softening and then drying, but in the great majority of cases they are subjected to further operations.

Some products hit the market with no additional processing after being starched, aside from being passed through a mangle with a bit of softening and then dried. However, in most cases, they go through further treatment.

Damping.—When deprived of their natural moisture by drying on the cylinder drying machine, cotton goods are not in a fit condition to undergo the subsequent operations of calendering, beetling, &c., since the fibres in the dry state have lost their plasticity. The pieces are consequently damped to the desired degree, and this is usually effected in a damping machine in passing through which they meet with a fine spray of water.

Damping.—When cotton goods lose their natural moisture by drying on the cylinder drying machine, they aren't suitable for the next steps like calendering and beetling, because the fibers have become rigid. Therefore, the pieces are dampened to the right level, which usually happens in a damping machine where they pass through a fine spray of water.

Fig. 2.—Principle of Damping Machine.

A simple and effective device for this purpose is shown in section in Fig. 2. It consists essentially of a brass roller r running in water 379 contained in a trough or box t. Touching the brass roller is a brush roller b which revolves at a high speed, thus spraying the water, which it takes up continuously from the wet revolving brass roller in all directions, and consequently also against the piece which passes in a stretched condition over the top of the box, being drawn from the batch roller B, over scrimp rails S, and batched again on the other side on roller R. The level of the water in the trough is kept constant.

A simple and effective device for this purpose is shown in section in Fig. 2. It essentially consists of a brass roller r that runs in water 379 contained in a trough or box t. A brush roller b touches the brass roller and spins at a high speed, spraying water that it picks up continuously from the wet revolving brass roller in all directions, and consequently also onto the piece that moves in a stretched condition over the top of the box. This piece is drawn from the batch roller B, over scrimp rails S, and batched again on the other side onto roller R. The water level in the trough is kept constant.

Calendering.—The calender may be regarded as an elaboration of the ordinary mangle, from which, however, it differs essentially inasmuch as one or more of the rollers or bowls are made of steel or iron and can be treated either by gas or steam; the other bowls are made of compressed cotton or paper. Three distinct forms of calender are in use, viz. the ordinary calender, the friction calender and the embossing calender.

Calendering.—The calender can be seen as a more advanced version of the regular mangle, but it differs fundamentally because one or more of the rollers or bowls are made of steel or iron and can be heated with gas or steam; the other bowls are made of compressed cotton or paper. There are three main types of calenders in use: the ordinary calender, the friction calender, and the embossing calender.

The number of bowls in an ordinary calender varies between two and six according to the character of the finish for which it is intended. In a modern five-bowl calender the bottom bowl is made of cast iron, the second of compressed cotton or paper, the third of iron being hollow and fitted with steam heating apparatus. The fourth bowl is made of compressed cotton, and the fifth of cast iron. The pieces are simply passed through for “swissing,” i.e. for the production of an ordinary plain finish. The same calender may also be used for “chasing,” in which two pieces are passed through, face to face, in order to produce an imitation linen finish. Moiré or “watered” effects are produced in a similar way, but these effects are frequently imitated in the embossing calender.

The number of bowls in a typical calender ranges from two to six, depending on the type of finish it’s designed for. In a modern five-bowl calender, the bottom bowl is made of cast iron, the second of compressed cotton or paper, the third is a hollow iron bowl equipped with steam heating, the fourth is made of compressed cotton, and the fifth is cast iron. The materials are simply processed for “swissing,” i.e. to create a standard plain finish. The same calender can also be used for “chasing,” where two pieces are fed through face to face to give an imitation linen finish. Moiré or “watered” effects are created in a similar manner, but these effects are often replicated using the embossing calender.

The friction calender, the object of which is to produce a high gloss on the fabric, differs from the ordinary calender inasmuch as one of the bowls is caused to revolve at a greater speed than the others. In an ordinary three-bowl friction calender the bottom bowl is made of cast iron, the middle one of compressed cotton or paper, and the top one (the friction bowl) of highly polished chilled iron. The last-named bowl, which has a greater peripheral speed than the others, is hollow and can be heated either by steam or gas.

The friction calender, designed to create a high gloss on the fabric, is different from a regular calender because one of the rollers spins faster than the others. In a typical three-bowl friction calender, the bottom bowl is cast iron, the middle bowl is made from compressed cotton or paper, and the top bowl (the friction bowl) is made of highly polished chilled iron. This last bowl, which has a higher peripheral speed than the others, is hollow and can be heated using either steam or gas.

The embossing calender is usually constructed of two bowls, one of which is of steel and the other of compressed cotton or paper. The steel roller, which is hollow and can be heated either by steam or gas, is engraved with the pattern which it is desired to impart to the piece. If the pattern is deep, as is the case in the production of book cloths, it is necessary to run the machine empty under pressure until the pattern of the steel bowl has impressed itself into the cotton or paper bowls, but if the effect desired only consists of very fine lines, this is not necessary; for instance, in the production of the Schreiner finish, which is intended to give the pieces (especially after mercerizing) the appearance of silk, the steel roller is engraved with fine diagonal lines which are so close together (about 250 to the in.) as to be undistinguishable by the naked eye.

The embossing calender typically has two rollers, one made of steel and the other made of compressed cotton or paper. The hollow steel roller, which can be heated with steam or gas, is engraved with the pattern that needs to be transferred to the material. If the pattern is deep, like in the production of book cloths, the machine must run empty under pressure until the steel roller's pattern is pressed into the cotton or paper rollers. However, if the desired effect is just very fine lines, this step isn't necessary. For example, in creating the Schreiner finish, which aims to give the pieces (especially after mercerizing) a silk-like appearance, the steel roller is engraved with fine diagonal lines that are so tightly spaced (about 250 per inch) that they are indistinguishable to the naked eye.

Beetling is a process by which a peculiar linen-like appearance and a leathery feel or handle are imparted to cotton fabrics, the process being also employed for improving the appearance of linen goods. For the best class of beetle finish, the pieces are first impregnated with sago starch and the other necessary ingredients (softening, &c.) and are dried on cylinders. They are then damped on a water mangle, and beamed on to the heavy iron bowl of the beetling machine.

Beetling is a process that gives cotton fabrics a unique linen-like look and a leathery texture. This method is also used to enhance the appearance of linen products. For the highest quality beetle finish, the fabrics are first soaked in sago starch and other essential ingredients (like softeners) and dried on cylinders. Then they are dampened on a water mangle and placed onto the heavy iron bowl of the beetling machine.

A beetling machine of the kind, with four sets of “fallers,” is shown in Fig. 3. The fallers are made of beech wood, are about 8 ft. long, 5½ in. deep and 4 in. wide, and are kept in their vertical position by two pairs of guide rails. Each faller is provided with a tappet or wooden peg driven in at one side, which engages with the teeth or “wipers” of the revolving shaft in the front of the machine. The effect of this mechanism is to lift the faller a distance of about 13 in. and then let it drop on to the cloth wound on the beam. This lifting and dropping of the fallers on to the beam takes place in rhythmical and rapid succession. To ensure even treatment the beam turns slowly round and also has a to-and-fro movement imparted to it. The treatment may last, according to the finish which it is desired to obtain, from one to sixty hours.

A beetling machine like this, featuring four sets of “fallers,” is shown in Fig. 3. The fallers are made from beech wood, measuring about 8 ft. long, 5½ in. deep, and 4 in. wide, and they are held in a vertical position by two pairs of guide rails. Each faller has a tappet or wooden peg driven in on one side, which connects with the teeth or “wipers” of the revolving shaft at the front of the machine. This mechanism lifts the faller about 13 in. and then lets it drop onto the cloth wrapped around the beam. The lifting and dropping of the fallers onto the beam occur in a rhythmic and rapid manner. To ensure even treatment, the beam slowly rotates and also moves back and forth. The treatment can last anywhere from one to sixty hours, depending on the desired finish.

Fig. 3.—Beetling Machine (Edmeston & Sons).

Beetling was originally used for linen goods, but to-day is almost entirely applied to cotton for the production of so-called linenettes.

Beetling was originally used for linen products, but today it is mostly used for cotton to create so-called linenettes.

Hot-pressing is used to a limited extent in order to obtain a soft finish on cotton goods, but as this operation is more used for wool, it will be described below.

Hot-pressing is used to a limited extent to achieve a soft finish on cotton products, but since this process is more commonly applied to wool, it will be explained below.

Raising.—This operation, which was formerly only used for woollen goods (teasing), has come largely into use for cotton pieces, partly in consequence of the introduction of the direct cotton colours by which the cotton is dyed evenly throughout (see Dyeing), and partly in consequence of new and improved machinery having been devised for the purpose. Starting with a plain bleached, dyed or printed fabric, the process consists in principle in raising or drawing out the ends of individual fibres from the body of the cloth, so as to produce a nap or soft woolly surface on the face.

Raising.—This process, which used to be applied only to woolen goods (teasing), is now commonly used for cotton fabrics, partly due to the introduction of direct cotton dyes that color the cotton evenly throughout (see Dyeing), and partly because of new and improved machinery designed for this purpose. Starting with a plain bleached, dyed, or printed fabric, the process essentially involves lifting or pulling out the ends of individual fibers from the body of the cloth to create a nap or soft, fuzzy surface on the front.

Fig. 4.—Raising.

This is effected by passing the fabric slowly round a large drum D, which is surrounded, as shown in the diagram, (Fig. 4), by a number of small cylinders or rollers, r, covered with steel wire brushes or “carding,” such as is used in carding engines (see Cotton-Spinning Machinery).

This is done by slowly moving the fabric around a large drum D, which is surrounded, as shown in the diagram, (Fig. 4), by several small cylinders or rollers, r, covered with steel wire brushes or “carding,” like those used in carding machines (see Cotton-Spinning Machinery).

The rollers r, which are all driven by one and the same belt (not shown in the figure), revolve at a high rate of speed, and can be made to do so either in the same direction as that followed by the piece as it travels through the machine or in the opposite one. In addition to their revolving round their own axes, the raising rollers may be either kept stationary or may be moved round the drum D in either direction.

The rollers r, all powered by a single belt (not shown in the figure), spin quickly and can rotate either in the same direction as the item moves through the machine or in the opposite direction. Besides rotating around their own axes, the lifting rollers can either stay in place or be moved around the drum D in either direction.

In the more modern machines there are two sets of raising rollers, of which each alternate one is caused to revolve in the direction followed by the piece, while the other is made to revolve in the opposite direction. By passing through an arrangement of this kind several times, or through several such machines in succession, the ends of the fibres are gradually drawn out to the desired extent.

In the newer machines, there are two sets of lifting rollers, with each alternate roller turning in the direction of the material, while the others turn in the opposite direction. By going through this kind of setup multiple times, or through several of these machines one after the other, the ends of the fibers are gradually drawn out to the desired length.

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After raising, the pieces are sheared (for better class work) in order to produce greater regularity in the length of the nap. The raised style of finishing is used chiefly for the production of uniformly white or coloured flannelettes but is also used for such as are dyed in the yarn, and to a limited extent for printed fabrics.

After raising, the pieces are trimmed (for better quality) to create more consistency in the length of the nap. The raised finishing style is mainly used for producing uniformly white or colored flannelettes, but it's also applied to those dyed in the yarn, and to a lesser extent for printed fabrics.

Woollen and Worsted Pieces.—Although both of these classes of material are made from wool, their treatment in finishing differs so materially that it is necessary to deal with them separately. Unions or fabrics consisting of a cotton warp with a worsted weft are in general treated like worsteds.

Wool and Worsted Fabrics.—Even though both of these types of materials are made from wool, their finishing processes are so different that they need to be addressed separately. Unions, or fabrics made with a cotton warp and a worsted weft, are generally treated like worsteds.

In the finishing of woollen pieces the most important operation is that of milling, which consists in subjecting the pieces to mechanical friction, usually in an alkaline medium (soap or soap and soda) but sometimes in an acid (sulphuric acid) medium, in order to bring about felting and consequent “fulling” of the fabric. This felting of the wool is due to the peculiar structure of the fibre, the scales of which all protrude in one direction, so that the individual fibres can slip past each other in one direction more readily than in the opposite one and thus become more and more interlocked as the milling proceeds. If the pieces contain burrs these are usually removed by a process known as “carbonizing,” which generally, but not necessarily, precedes the milling. Their removal depends upon the fact that the burrs, which consist in the main of cellulose, are disintegrated at elevated temperatures by dilute mineral acids. The pieces are run through sulphuric acid of from 4° to 6° Tw., squeezed or hydro-extracted, and dried over cylinders and then in stoves. The acid is thus concentrated and attacks the burrs, which fall to dust, while leaving the wool intact. For the removal of the acid the fabric is first washed in water and then in weak soda. Carbonizing is also sometimes used for worsteds.

In the final stages of processing wool pieces, the most important step is milling. This involves applying mechanical friction to the fabric, usually in an alkaline solution (like soap or a mix of soap and soda), but occasionally in an acidic solution (like sulfuric acid). The goal is to create felting and "fulling" of the fabric. The felting occurs because of the unique structure of wool fibers, where the scales point in one direction. This allows the fibers to slide past each other more easily in that direction, leading them to become increasingly interlocked as milling continues. If there are burrs in the fabric, they are typically removed using a process called "carbonizing," which generally happens before milling, though not always. The removal process works because the burrs, primarily made of cellulose, break down at high temperatures when treated with dilute mineral acids. The fabric is treated with sulfuric acid at a concentration of 4° to 6° Tw., then squeezed or hydro-extracted, and lastly dried over cylinders and in stoves. As a result, the acid becomes concentrated and breaks down the burrs into dust while leaving the wool unharmed. To get rid of the acid, the fabric is first washed in water and then in a weak soda solution. Carbonizing is also sometimes applied to worsted fabrics.

Fig. 5.—Milling Stocks.

Milling was formerly all done in milling or fulling stocks (see Fig. 5), in which the cloth saturated with a strong solution of soap (with or without other additions such as stale urine, potash, fuller’s earth, &c.) is subjected to the action of heavy wooden hammers, which are raised by the cams attached to the wheel (E) on the revolving shaft, and fall with their own weight on to the bundles of cloth. The shape of the hammer-head causes the cloth to turn slowly in the cavity in which the milling takes place. Occasionally, the cloth is taken out, straightened, washed if necessary, and then returned to the stocks to undergo further treatment, the process being continued until the material is uniformly shrunk or milled to the desired degree.

Milling used to be done in milling or fulling stocks (see Fig. 5), where cloth soaked in a strong soap solution (with or without additives like stale urine, potash, fuller’s earth, etc.) is treated with heavy wooden hammers. These hammers are lifted by cams connected to the wheel (E) on the rotating shaft and then fall under their own weight onto the bundles of cloth. The shape of the hammerhead makes the cloth turn slowly in the space where the milling occurs. Occasionally, the cloth is removed, straightened, washed if needed, and then put back into the stocks for more treatment, continuing this process until the fabric is uniformly shrunk or milled to the desired level.

In the more modern forms of milling machines the principle adopted is to draw the pieces in rope form, saturated with soap solution and sewn together end to end so as to form an endless band, between two or more rollers, on leaving which they are forced down a closed trough ending in an aperture the size of which can be varied, but which in any case is sufficiently small to cause a certain amount of force to be necessary to push the pieces through. A machine of this kind is shown in Fig. 6. It is evident that for coloured goods which have to be milled only such colouring matters must be chosen for dyeing that are absolutely fast to soap.

In more modern milling machines, the principle used is to pull the pieces into a rope form, soaked in soap solution and sewn together end-to-end to create an endless band. This band passes between two or more rollers, and as it leaves, it gets pushed down a closed trough that ends in an adjustable opening. The size of this opening can be varied, but it’s always small enough to require some force to push the pieces through. A machine like this is illustrated in Fig. 6. It’s clear that for colored products that need to be processed, only dyeing agents that are completely resistant to soap should be chosen.

From Ganswindt, Technologie der Appretur.
Fig. 6.—Roller Milling Machine.

After the pieces have been milled down to the desired degree, they present an uneven and, undesirable appearance on the surface, the ends of many of the fibres which previously projected having been turned and thus become embedded in the body of the cloth. In order to bring these hairs to the surface again, the fabric is subjected to teasing or raising, an operation identical in principle with one which has already been noticed under the finishing of cotton. In place of the steel wire brushes it is the usual practice to employ teasels for the treatment of woollen goods.

After the pieces have been milled down to the right degree, they have an uneven and undesirable appearance on the surface, with many of the fibers that used to stick out now turned and embedded in the fabric. To bring these fibers back to the surface, the material is subjected to teasing or raising, which is the same process we’ve seen in the finishing of cotton. Instead of using steel wire brushes, it’s common to use teasels for treating woolen goods.

The teasel (see Fig. 7) is the dried head (fruit) of a kind of thistle (Dipsacus fullorum), the horny sharp spikes of which turn downwards at their extremity, and, while possessing the necessary sharpness and strength for raising the fibres, are not sufficiently rigid to cause any material damage to the cloth. For raising, the teasels are fixed in rows on a large revolving drum, and the piece to be treated is drawn lengthways underneath the drum, being guided by rollers or rods so as to just touch the teasels as they sweep past. In the raising of woollen goods it is necessary that the pieces should be damp or moist while undergoing this treatment.

The teasel (see Fig. 7) is the dried head (fruit) of a type of thistle (Dipsacus fullorum), with its sharp, bumpy spikes curving downward at the tips. These spikes have the required sharpness and strength to lift the fibers but aren't rigid enough to damage the fabric. To use them, the teasels are arranged in rows on a large rotating drum, and the material being treated is pulled lengthwise beneath the drum, guided by rollers or rods to lightly touch the teasels as they move past. When raising woolen fabrics, it's essential for the pieces to be damp or moist during this process.

After teasing, the pieces are stretched and dried. At this stage they still have an irregular appearance, for although the raising has brought all the loose ends of the fibres to the surface, these vary considerably in length and thus give rise to an uneven nap.

After teasing, the pieces are stretched and dried. At this stage, they still look irregular because, although the raising has brought all the loose ends of the fibers to the surface, these vary significantly in length and create an uneven nap.

From Ganswindt, Technologie der Appretur.
Fig. 7.—Teasel used for Raising.

By the next operation of shearing or cropping, the long hairs are cut off arid a uniform surface is thus obtained. Shearing was in former times done by hand, by means of shears, but is to-day universally effected by means of a cutting device which works on the same principle as an ordinary lawn-mower, in which a number of spiral blades set on the surface of a rapidly revolving roller pass continuously over a straight fixed blade underneath, the roller being set so that the spiral blades just touch the fixed blade. Before the piece comes to the shearing device the nap is raised by means of a rotary brush. Shearing may be effected either transversely, in which case the fixed blade is parallel to the warp, or longitudinally with the fixed blade parallel to the weft. In the first case, the piece being stretched on a table, over which the cutter, carried on rails, travels from selvedge to selvedge. The length of the piece that can be shorn in one operation will naturally depend upon the length of the blade, but in any case the process is necessarily intermittent, many operations being required before the whole piece is shorn. In 381 the longitudinal shearing machines the process is continuous, the pieces passing from the beam in the stretched condition over the rotary brush, under the fixed blade, and then being again brushed before being beamed on the other side of the machine. Shearing once is generally insufficient, and for this reason many of the modern machines are constructed with duplicate arrangements so as to effect the shearing twice in the same operation. In the finishing of certain woollen goods the pieces, after having been milled, raised and sheared, go through these operations again in the same sequence.

By the next process of shearing or cropping, the long hairs are cut off, creating a uniform surface. Shearing used to be done by hand with shears, but today it's done using a cutting device that operates like a regular lawn mower. It has several spiral blades on a fast-spinning roller that continually pass over a fixed blade underneath, with the roller adjusted so the spiral blades just touch the fixed blade. Before the fabric reaches the shearing device, a rotary brush raises the nap. Shearing can be done either across the fabric, with the fixed blade parallel to the warp, or along the length, with the fixed blade parallel to the weft. In the first method, the fabric is stretched on a table, and the cutter moves on rails from edge to edge. The length of the fabric that can be sheared in one go depends on the length of the blade, but the process has to be done in stages, often requiring multiple passes to shear the entire piece. In 381, the longitudinal shearing machines work continuously, with pieces moving from the beam in a stretched position over the rotary brush, under the fixed blade, and then being brushed again before being beamed on the other side of the machine. Usually, one round of shearing isn't enough, so many modern machines are designed with duplicate setups to shear twice in the same operation. In finishing certain woolen goods, after milling, raising, and shearing, the pieces go through these steps again in the same order.

After these operations the goods are pressed either in the hydraulic press or in the continuous press, and according to the character of the material and the finish desired may or may not be steamed under pressure, all of which operations are described below.

After these operations, the goods are pressed either in the hydraulic press or in the continuous press. Depending on the type of material and the finish required, they may or may not be steamed under pressure. All of these processes are described below.

New cloth, as it comes into the hands of the tailor, frequently shows an undesirable gloss or sheen, which is removed before making up by a process known as shrinking, in which the material is simply damped or steamed.

New fabric, when it reaches the tailor, often has an unwanted shine or gloss, which is taken care of before sewing by a method called shrinking, where the material is simply dampened or steamed.

Worsteds and Unions.—The pieces are first singed by gas or hot plate (see Bleaching), and are then usually subjected to a process known as “crabbing,” the object of which is to “set” the wool fibres. If this operation is omitted, especially in the case of unions, the fabric will “cockle,” or assume an uneven surface on being wetted. In crabbing the pieces are drawn at full breadth and under as much tension as they will stand through boiling water, and are wound or beamed on to a roller under the pressure of a superposed heavy iron roller, the operation being conducted two or three times as required. From the crabbing machine the pieces are wound on to a perforated shell or steel cylinder which is closed at one end. The open end is then attached to a steam pipe, and steam, at a pressure of 30 to 45 ℔, is allowed to enter until it makes its way through all the layers of cloth to the outside, when the steam is turned off and the whole allowed to cool. Since those layers of the cloth which are nearest the shell are acted upon for a longer period than those at the outside, it is necessary to re-wind and repeat the operation, the outside portions coming this time nearest to the shell. The principle of the process depends upon the fact that at elevated temperatures moist wool becomes plastic, and then easily assumes the shape imparted to it by the great tension under which the pieces are wound. On cooling the shape is retained, and since the temperature at which the pieces were steamed under tension exceeds any to which they are submitted in the subsequent processes, the “setting” of the fibres is permanent. After crabbing, the pieces are washed or “scoured” in soap either on the winch or at full width. In some cases the crabbing precedes the scouring. The goods are then dyed and finished.

Worsteds and Unions.—The pieces are first singed with gas or a hot plate (see Bleaching), and are then typically put through a process called “crabbing,” which aims to “set” the wool fibers. If this step is skipped, especially with unions, the fabric will “cockle,” or develop an uneven surface when wet. During crabbing, the pieces are stretched to their full width and held under as much tension as they can handle while being immersed in boiling water. They are then wound or beamed onto a roller under the pressure of a heavy iron roller, repeating the operation two or three times as needed. From the crabbing machine, the pieces are wound onto a perforated shell or steel cylinder that is sealed at one end. The open end is connected to a steam pipe, and steam, at a pressure of 30 to 45 ℔, is introduced until it passes through all layers of cloth to the outside, at which point the steam is turned off and everything is allowed to cool. Since the layers of cloth closest to the shell are exposed to the steam longer than those on the outside, it’s necessary to re-wind and repeat the process, so that the outer portions are next to the shell. The principle behind the process is that at high temperatures, moist wool becomes pliable and easily takes on the shape created by the tension from the winding. Upon cooling, the shape is fixed, and since the temperature at which the pieces were steamed under tension is higher than any they will encounter in later processes, the “setting” of the fibers is permanent. After crabbing, the pieces are washed or “scoured” with soap, either on the winch or at full width. Sometimes, crabbing is done before scouring. The goods are then dyed and finished.

The nature of the finishing process will vary considerably according to the special character of the goods under treatment. Thus, for certain classes of goods cold pressing is sufficient, while in other cases the pieces are steamed under pressure in a manner analogous to the treatment after crabbing (“decatizing”). The treatment in most common use for worsteds and unions is hot pressing, which may be effected either in the hydraulic press or in the continuous press, but in most cases in the former.

The finishing process can change a lot depending on the specific type of goods being worked on. For some products, cold pressing is enough, while for others, the pieces are steamed under pressure, similar to the treatment used after crabbing (“decatizing”). The most commonly used method for worsteds and unions is hot pressing, which can be done either with a hydraulic press or a continuous press, but most often with the former.

In pressing in the hydraulic press the pieces are folded down by hand on a table, a piece of press paper (thin hand-made cardboard with a glossed and extremely hard surface) being inserted between each lap. After a certain number of laps, a steel or iron press plate is inserted, and the folding proceeds in this way until the pile is sufficiently high, when it is placed in the press. The press being filled, the hydraulic ram is set in motion until the reading on the gauge shows that the desired amount of pressure has been obtained. The heating of the press plates was formerly done in ovens, previous to their insertion in the piece, but although this practice is still in vogue in rare instances, the heating is now effected either by means of steam which is caused to circulate through the hollow steel plates, or in the more modern forms of presses by means of an electric current. After the pieces have thus been subjected to the combined effects of heat and pressure for the desired length of time, they are allowed to cool in the press. It is evident that portions of the pieces, viz. the folds, thus escape the finishing process, and for this reason it is necessary to repeat the process, the folds now being made to lie in the middle of the press papers.

In using the hydraulic press, the pieces are folded down by hand on a table, with a piece of press paper (thin handmade cardboard with a glossy and extremely hard surface) placed between each fold. After a certain number of folds, a steel or iron press plate is added, and folding continues like this until the stack is high enough, at which point it is placed in the press. Once the press is filled, the hydraulic ram is activated until the gauge shows that the right amount of pressure has been achieved. Previously, the press plates were heated in ovens before being added to the piece, but while this practice still occurs occasionally, heating is now typically done using steam that circulates through the hollow steel plates, or in more modern presses, through an electric current. After the pieces have been exposed to the combined effects of heat and pressure for the right amount of time, they are allowed to cool in the press. It's clear that some parts of the pieces, specifically the folds, don’t go through the finishing process, so it’s necessary to repeat the process, this time placing the folds in the middle of the press papers.

From Ganswindt,’ Technologie der Appretur.
Fig. 8.—Continuous Press.

The continuous press, which is used for certain classes of worsteds, but more especially for woollen goods, consists in principle of a polished steam-heated steel cylinder against which either one or two steam-heated chilled iron cheeks are set by means of levers and adjusting screws. The pieces to be pressed are drawn slowly between the cheeks and the bowl. A machine of the kind is shown in section in Fig. 8. In working, the cheeks C, C1 are pressed against the bowl B. The course followed by the cloth to be finished is shown by the dotted line, the finished material being mechanically folded down on the left-hand side of the machine. The pieces thus acquire a certain amount of finish which is, however, not comparable with that produced in the hydraulic press.

The continuous press, used for specific types of worsteds and especially for woolen goods, mainly consists of a polished steam-heated steel cylinder against which one or two steam-heated chilled iron cheeks are positioned using levers and adjusting screws. The items to be pressed are slowly pulled between the cheeks and the bowl. A machine of this type is illustrated in section in Fig. 8. During operation, the cheeks C, C1 are pressed against the bowl B. The path of the cloth being finished is indicated by the dotted line, with the completed material being mechanically folded down on the left side of the machine. This process gives the pieces a certain level of finish, although it's not comparable to what is achieved with the hydraulic press.

Pile Fabrics, such as velvets, velveteens, corduroys, plushes, sealskins, &c., require a special treatment in finishing, and great care must be taken in all operations to prevent the pile being crushed or otherwise damaged. Velveteens and corduroys are singed before boiling or bleaching. Velveteens dyed in black or in dark shades are brushed with an oil colour (e.g. Prussian blue for blacks), and dried over-night in a hot stove in order to give them a characteristic bloom. Regularity in the pile and gloss are obtained by shearing and brushing. Corduroys are stiffened at the back by the application of “bone-size” (practically an impure form of glue) in a machine similar to that used for back-starching. The face of the fabric is waxed with beeswax by passing the piece under a revolving drum, on the surface of which bars of this material are fixed parallel to the axis. The bars just touch the surface of the fabric as it passes through the machine. The gloss is then obtained by brushing with circular brushes which run partly in the direction of the piece and partly diagonally. In the finishing of velvets, shearing and brushing are the most important operations. The same applies to sealskins and other long pile fabrics, but with these an additional operation, viz. that of “batting,” is employed after dyeing and before shearing and brushing, which consists in beating the back of the stretched fabric with sticks in order to shake out the pile and cause it to stand erect.

Pile Fabrics, like velvets, velveteens, corduroys, plushes, sealskins, etc., need special treatment during finishing, and great care must be taken in all processes to avoid crushing or damaging the pile. Velveteens and corduroys are singed before boiling or bleaching. Velveteens dyed black or in dark shades are brushed with an oil color (e.g. Prussian blue for blacks) and dried overnight in a hot stove to give them a distinctive bloom. Consistent pile and shine are achieved through shearing and brushing. Corduroys are stiffened at the back using “bone-size” (essentially an impure form of glue) in a machine similar to one used for back-starching. The fabric's surface is waxed with beeswax by passing it under a rotating drum, where bars of this material are fixed parallel to the axis. The bars lightly touch the fabric's surface as it moves through the machine. The shine is then obtained by brushing with circular brushes that operate partly in the direction of the fabric and partly diagonally. In finishing velvets, shearing and brushing are the most crucial steps. The same applies to sealskins and other long pile fabrics, but with these, an additional step, known as “batting,” is used after dyeing and before shearing and brushing, which involves beating the back of the stretched fabric with sticks to shake out the pile and make it stand upright.

For the finishing of silk pieces the operations and machinery employed are similar in character to some of those used for cotton and worsteds. Most high-class silks require no further treatment other than simple damping and pressing after they leave the loom. Inferior qualities are frequently filled or back-filled with glue, sugar, gum tragacanth, dextrin, &c., after which they are dried, damped and given a light calender finish. Moiré 382 or watered effects are produced by running two pieces face to face through a calender or by means of an embossing calender. In the latter case the pattern repeats itself. For the production of silk crape the dyed (generally black) piece is impregnated with a solution of shellac in methylated spirit and dried. It is then “goffered,” an operation which is practically identical with embossing (see above), and may either be done on an embossing calender or by means of heated brass plates in which the design is engraved to the desired depth and pattern.

For finishing silk pieces, the processes and machinery used are similar to some of those for cotton and worsteds. Most high-quality silks need no additional treatment beyond simple dampening and pressing after they come off the loom. Inferior qualities are often filled or back-filled with glue, sugar, gum tragacanth, dextrin, etc., then dried, dampened, and given a light calender finish. Moiré or watered effects are created by running two pieces face to face through a calender or using an embossing calender. In the latter case, the pattern repeats itself. To make silk crape, the dyed (usually black) piece is soaked with a shellac solution in methylated spirit and dried. It is then “goffered,” which is practically the same as embossing (see above), and can be done on an embossing calender or using heated brass plates where the design is engraved to the desired depth and pattern.

The measuring, wrapping, doubling, folding, &c., of piece goods previous to making up are done in the works by specially constructed machinery.

The measuring, wrapping, doubling, folding, etc., of fabrics before they are assembled is done in the factory using specially designed machinery.

Finishing of Yarn.—The finishing of yarn is not nearly so important as the finishing of textiles in the piece, and it will suffice to draw attention to the main operations. Cotton yarns are frequently “gassed,” i.e. drawn through a gas flame, in order to burn or singe off the projecting fibres and thus to produce a clean thread which is required for the manufacture of certain classes of fabrics. The most important finishing process for cotton yarn is “mercerizing” (q.v.), by means of which a permanent silk-like gloss is obtained. The “polishing” of cotton yarn, by means of which a highly glazed product, similar in appearance to horsehair, is obtained, is effected by impregnating the yarn with a paste consisting essentially of starch, beeswax or paraffin wax and soap, and then subjecting the damp material to the action of revolving brushes until dry. Woollen yarn is not subjected to any treatment, but worsted yarns (especially twofold) have to be “set” before scouring and dyeing in order to prevent curling. This is effected by stretching the yarn tight on a frame, which is immersed in boiling water and then allowing it to cool in this condition.

Finishing of Yarn.—Finishing yarn isn't nearly as crucial as finishing textiles in bulk, but it's worth noting the main processes. Cotton yarns are often “gassed,” i.e. passed through a gas flame to burn off any protruding fibers, resulting in a clean thread needed for certain types of fabrics. The most significant finishing process for cotton yarn is “mercerizing” (q.v.), which gives it a permanent silk-like shine. The “polishing” of cotton yarn, which produces a highly glossy product that looks similar to horsehair, is done by coating the yarn with a paste made mainly of starch, beeswax or paraffin wax, and soap, then using rotating brushes on the damp material until it dries. Wool yarn doesn't undergo any treatment, but worsted yarns (especially double-ply) need to be “set” before washing and dyeing to prevent curling. This is done by stretching the yarn tightly on a frame, immersing it in boiling water, and then letting it cool while still in that position.

A peculiar silk-like gloss and feel is sometimes imparted to yarns made from lustre wool by a treatment with a weak solution of chlorine (bleaching powder and hydrochloric acid) followed by a treatment with soap.

A strange silk-like shine and texture is sometimes given to yarns made from lustre wool by treating them with a weak solution of chlorine (bleaching powder and hydrochloric acid) followed by a wash with soap.

Worsted and mohair yarns intended for the manufacture of braids are singed by gas, a process technically known as “Genapping.”

Worsted and mohair yarns meant for making braids are singed with gas, a process technically called “Genapping.”

Silk yarn is subjected to various mechanical processes before weaving. The most important of these are stretching, shaking, lustreing and glossing. Stretching and shaking are simple operations the nature of which is sufficiently indicated by their names, and by these means the hanks are stretched to their original length and straightened out by hand or on a specially devised machine. In lustreing, the yarn is stretched slightly beyond its original length between two polished revolving cylinders (one of which is steam heated) contained in a box or chest into which steam is admitted. In glossing, the yarn is twisted tight, first in one direction and then in the other, on a machine, this alternating action being continued until the maximum gloss is obtained.

Silk yarn goes through several mechanical processes before weaving. The most significant ones are stretching, shaking, lustreing, and glossing. Stretching and shaking are straightforward tasks that are clear from their names; these processes help to stretch the hanks back to their original length and straighten them out by hand or using a special machine. In lustreing, the yarn is stretched slightly beyond its original length between two polished, revolving cylinders (one of which is steam-heated) inside a box or chest where steam is introduced. In glossing, the yarn is tightly twisted first in one direction and then in the opposite direction on a machine, continuing this alternating action until the highest gloss is achieved.

The so-called “scrooping” process, which gives to silk a peculiar feel and causes it to crackle or crunch when compressed by the hand, is a very simple operation, and consists in treating the yarn after dyeing in a bath of dilute acid (acetic, tartaric or sulphuric) and then drying without washing. Heavily weighted black silks are passed after dyeing through an emulsion of olive oil in soap and dried without washing, in order to give additional lustre to the material or rather to restore some of the lustre which has been lost in weighting.

The process known as “scrooping” gives silk its unique texture and makes it crackle or crunch when squeezed by hand. This operation is quite straightforward and involves treating the yarn after dyeing it in a bath of diluted acid (like acetic, tartaric, or sulfuric acid) and then drying it without rinsing. Heavily weighted black silks are run through an emulsion of olive oil and soap after dyeing and dried without washing to enhance the material's shine or to restore some of the shine that was lost during weighting.

(E. K.)

FINISTÈRE, or Finisterre, the most western department of France, formed from part of the old province of Brittany. Pop. (1906) 795,103. Area, 2713 sq. m. It is bounded W. and S. by the Atlantic Ocean, E. by the departments of Côtes-du-Nord and Morbihan, and N. by the English Channel. Two converging chains of hills run from the west towards the east of the department and divide it into three zones conveying the waters in three different directions. North of the Arrée, or more northern of the two chains, the waters of the Douron, Penzé and Flèche flow northward to the sea. The Elorn, however, after a short northerly course, turns westward and empties into the Brest roads. South of the Montagnes Noires, the Odet, Aven, Isole and Ellé flow southward; while the waters of the Aulne, flowing through a region enclosed by the two chains with a westward declination, discharge into the Brest roads. The rivers are all small, and none of the hills attain a height of 1300 ft. The coast is generally steep and rocky and at some points dangerous, notably off Cape Raz and the Île de Sein; it is indented with numerous bays and inlets, the chief of which—the roadstead of Brest and the Bays of Douarnenez and Audierne—are on the west. The principal harbours are those of Brest, Concarneau, Morlaix, Landerneau, Quimper and Douarnenez. Off the coast lie a number of islands and rocks, the principal of which are Ushant (q.v.) N.W. of Cape St Mathieu, and Batz off Roscoff. The climate is temperate and equable, but humid; the prevailing winds are the W., S.W. and N.W. Though more than a third of the department is covered by heath, waste land and forest, it produces oats, wheat, buckwheat, rye and barley in quantities more than sufficient for its population. In the extreme north the neighbourhood of Roscoff, and farther south the borders of the Brest roadstead, are extremely fertile and yield large quantities of asparagus, artichokes and onions, besides melons and other fruits. The cider apple is abundant and furnishes the chief drink of the inhabitants. Hemp and flax are also grown. The farm and dairy produce is plentiful, and great attention is paid to the breeding and feeding of cattle and horses. The production of honey and wax is considerable. The fisheries of the coast, particularly the pilchard fishery, employ a great many hands and render this department an excellent nursery of seamen for the French navy. Coal, though found in Finistère, is not mined; there are quarries of granite, slate, potter’s clay, &c. The lead mines of Poullaouen and Huelgoat, which for several centuries yielded a considerable quantity of silver, are no longer worked. The preparation of sardines is carried on on a large scale at several of the coast-towns. The manufactures include linens, woollens, sail-cloth, ropes, agricultural implements, paper, leather, earthenware, soda, soap, candles, and fertilizers and chemicals derived from seaweed. Brest has important foundries and engineering works; and shipbuilding is carried on there and at other seaports. Brest and Morlaix are the most important commercial ports. Trade is in fish, vegetables and fruit. Coal is the chief import. The department is served by the Orleans and Western railways. The canal from Nantes to Brest has 51 m. of its length in the department. The Aulne is navigable for 17 m., and many of the smaller rivers for short distances.

FINISTÈRE, or Finisterre is the westernmost department of France, created from part of the old province of Brittany. Population (1906) was 795,103. Area: 2,713 sq. miles. It is bordered to the west and south by the Atlantic Ocean, to the east by the departments of Côtes-du-Nord and Morbihan, and to the north by the English Channel. Two mountain ranges run from west to east across the department, dividing it into three zones that channel water in different directions. North of the Arrée, which is the northern of the two ranges, the rivers Douron, Penzé, and Flèche flow northward to the sea. The Elorn, however, takes a short northern route before turning west and emptying into the Brest harbor. South of the Montagnes Noires, the Odet, Aven, Isole, and Ellé flow southward; while the Aulne, which flows through a valley between the two mountain ranges toward the west, also empties into the Brest harbor. All the rivers are small, and none of the hills rise above 1,300 ft. The coast is generally steep and rocky and can be dangerous at some points, particularly off Cape Raz and the Île de Sein; it features many bays and inlets, with the main ones being the harbor of Brest and the Bays of Douarnenez and Audierne located to the west. The main harbors include Brest, Concarneau, Morlaix, Landerneau, Quimper, and Douarnenez. Several islands and rocks lie off the coast, the most notable being Ushant, found northwest of Cape St Mathieu, and Batz near Roscoff. The climate is mild and stable but humid; the prevailing winds come from the west, southwest, and northwest. Although over a third of the department is covered by heath, waste land, and forest, it produces oats, wheat, buckwheat, rye, and barley in quantities more than enough for the population. In the far north near Roscoff, and further south around Brest harbor, the land is particularly fertile, yielding large amounts of asparagus, artichokes, and onions, as well as melons and other fruits. Cider apples are plentiful, providing the main drink for locals. Hemp and flax are also cultivated. There is a rich supply of farm and dairy products, with a strong emphasis on breeding and raising cattle and horses. Honey and wax production is significant. The coastal fisheries, especially for pilchards, provide many jobs and make this department a great training ground for sailors in the French navy. Although coal is found in Finistère, it is not mined; there are granite, slate, and potter's clay quarries, among others. The lead mines in Poullaouen and Huelgoat, which produced a good amount of silver for several centuries, are no longer operational. Sardine canning is done on a large scale in several coastal towns. Manufacturing includes linens, woolens, sails, ropes, farming tools, paper, leather goods, ceramics, soda, soap, candles, and fertilizers and chemicals made from seaweed. Brest has significant foundries and engineering facilities, and shipbuilding occurs there and in other coastal towns. Brest and Morlaix are the most important commercial ports, trading in fish, vegetables, and fruits. Coal is the primary import. The department is served by the Orleans and Western railways. The canal from Nantes to Brest runs for 51 miles within the department. The Aulne is navigable for 17 miles, and many smaller rivers can be navigated for shorter distances.

Finistère is divided into the arrondissements of Quimperlé, Brest, Châteaulin, Morlaix and Quimper (43 cantons, 294 communes), the town of Quimper being the capital of the department and the seat of a bishopric. The department belongs to the region of the XI. army corps and to the archiepiscopal province and académie (educational division) of Rennes, where its court of appeal is also situated.

Finistère is divided into the districts of Quimperlé, Brest, Châteaulin, Morlaix, and Quimper (43 cantons, 294 municipalities), with the town of Quimper serving as the capital of the department and the location of a bishopric. The department is part of the region of the XI army corps and falls under the archiepiscopal province and educational division of Rennes, which is also where its court of appeal is located.

The more important places are Quimper, Brest, Morlaix, Quimperlé, St Pol-de-Léon, Douarnenez, Concarneau, Roscoff, Penmarc’h and Pont-l’Abbé. Finistère abounds in menhirs and other megalithic monuments, of which those of Penmarc’h, Plouarzal and Crozon are noted. The two religious structures characteristic of Brittany—calvaries and charnel-houses—are frequently met with. The calvaries of Plougastel-Daoulas, Pleyben, St Thégonnec, Lampaul-Guimiliau, which date from the 17th century, and that of Guimiliau (16th century), and the charnel-houses of Sizun and St Thégonnec (16th century) and of Guimiliau (17th century) may be instanced as the most remarkable. Daoulas has the remains of a fine church and cloister in the Romanesque style. The chapel of St Herbot (16th century) near Loqueffret, the churches of St Jean-du-Doigt and Locronan, which belong to the 15th and 16th centuries, those of Ploaré, Roscoff, Penmarc’h and Pleyben of the 16th century, that of Le Folgoët (14th and 16th centuries), and the huge château of Kerjean (16th century) are of architectural interest. Religious festivals, and processions known as “pardons,” are held in many places, notably at Locronan, St Jean-du-Doigt, St Herbot and Le Faou.

The more significant places are Quimper, Brest, Morlaix, Quimperlé, St Pol-de-Léon, Douarnenez, Concarneau, Roscoff, Penmarc’h, and Pont-l’Abbé. Finistère is filled with menhirs and other megalithic structures, with notable examples in Penmarc’h, Plouarzal, and Crozon. Two types of religious buildings typical of Brittany—calvaries and charnel-houses—are commonly found. The calvaries in Plougastel-Daoulas, Pleyben, St Thégonnec, and Lampaul-Guimiliau, dating back to the 17th century, along with the 16th-century calvary in Guimiliau, and the 16th-century charnel-houses in Sizun and St Thégonnec, as well as the 17th-century one in Guimiliau, are particularly remarkable. Daoulas has the remains of a beautiful church and cloister in the Romanesque style. The chapel of St Herbot (16th century) near Loqueffret, the churches of St Jean-du-Doigt and Locronan from the 15th and 16th centuries, those in Ploaré, Roscoff, Penmarc’h, and Pleyben from the 16th century, the church of Le Folgoët (14th and 16th centuries), and the large château of Kerjean (16th century) are architecturally significant. Religious festivals and processions known as “pardons” take place in many locations, especially in Locronan, St Jean-du-Doigt, St Herbot, and Le Faou.





        
        
    
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