TRANSACTIONS
OF THE
WISCONSIN ACADEMY
OF
SCIENCES, ARTS AND LETTERS
VOL. XLIII
NATURAE SPECIES RATIOQUE
MADISON, WISCONSIN
1954
The publication date of Volume 43 is
September 15, 1954
TRANSACTIONS
OF THE
WISCONSIN ACADEMY
OF
SCIENCES, ARTS AND LETTERS
VOL. XLIII
NATURAE SPECIES RATIOQUE
MADISON, WISCONSIN
1954
The publication date of Volume 43 is
September 15, 1954
OFFICERS OF THE WISCONSIN ACADEMY OF SCIENCES,
ARTS AND LETTERS
President
Charles L. Fluke, University of Wisconsin
Vice Presidents
In Science: Henry Meyer, Ripon College
In Arts: Mary L. Doherty, Mary D. Bradford High School, Kenosha
In Letters: Harry H. Clark, University of Wisconsin
Secretary-Treasurer
Robert J. Dicke, University of Wisconsin
Librarian
Gilbert H. Doane, University of Wisconsin
Council
The President
The Vice Presidents
The Secretary-Treasurer
The Librarian
Charles T. Allen, past presideyit
Paul W. Boutwell, past president
A. W. Schorger, past president
H. A. Schuette, past president
L. E. Noland, past president
0. L. Kowalke, past president
W. C. McKern, past president
E. L. Bolender, past president
Katherine G. Nelson, past president
Committee on Publications
The President
The Secretary-Treasurer
Fred R. Jones, University of Wisconsin
Committee on Membership
Lois Almon, Wisconsin State College, Eau Claire
Robert J. Dicke, University of Wisconsin
W. E. Dickinson, Milwaukee Public Museum
William Woodman, University of Wisconsin
Representative on the Council of the American Association
for the Advancement of Science
Robert J. Dicke, University of Wisconsin
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Page
The Elk in Early Wisconsin. A. W. Schorger . . 5
The Effect of Gapeworm Disease in Pheasants. Harry G. Guilford and
C. A. Herrick . . . . . 25
George Bancroft on Man and History. John W. Rathbun ........... 51
Spring Emergence and Floral Hosts of Wisconsin Bumblebees. R. E.
Fye and J. T. Medler . . . . . . 75
Identification of the Larvae of the More Important Insect Pests of Sour
Cherry in Wisconsin. D. A. Dever ............................. 83
Certain Microbiological Characteristics of Selected Genetic Types of
Forest Humus. D. L. Mader . . . 89
Evaluation of Composted Fertilizers by Microbiological Methods of
Analysis. Charles B. Davey . . 93
Thomas Carew and the Cavalier Poets. Rufus A. Blanshard . . 97
The Growth of Psychology with Some Present Implications and
Attendant Problems. Cyril C. O’Brien . . 107
A Geologists Point of View on Appreciation of Our Surroundings.
Katherine Greacen Nelson . . . . . 117
The Abbe Prevost and the Jesuits. Berenice Cooper . . 125
Population Fluctuations of the Mallophagan Parasite Bruelia Vulgata
(Kellogg) Upon the Sparrow. William J. Woodman and Robert
J. Dicke ........ _ ....................... . . . 133
Forest Humus: Its Genetic Classification. S. A. Wilde . 137
Notes on Wisconsin Parasitic Fungi. XX. H. C. Greene . . 165
Determination of the Effect of Applied Biocides on Soil Fertility by
Chemical and Biological Methods. G. K. Voigt . . 183
T. S. Eliot and the Doctrine of Dramatic Conventions. Gian N. G.
Orsini ...................................................... 189
Certain Physical* Chemical and Biological Aspects of the Brule River,
Douglas County, Wisconsin. Brule River Survey Report No. 11.
D. John O’Donnell and Warren S. Churchill ................ 201
THE ELK IN EARLY WISCONSIN
A. W. SCHORGER
The elk (Cervus canadensis canadensis) was once a common
animal in Wisconsin and there is reason to believe that it
occurred throughout the state. At present there are records of
its presence in 50 of the 71 counties. Remains are still being
found so that there is a strong probability that many of the gaps
in the range will be filled. The elk ate grasses and sedges to a
greater extent than the other members of the deer family. On
the Great Plains it was formerly found intermingled with
buffalo. In Wisconsin the elk was most numerous in the open
woodlands, oak openings, and at the border of grassland and
forest. There habitats prevailed in the southern and western
parts of the state.
Radisson1 was in northwestern Wisconsin in 1661-62 and
mentions “staggs” among the animals killed. A few years later
Allouez2 found “large and small stags [deer]” abundant at the
mouth of the Wolf River, Winnebago County. During Le Seur’s
voyage up the Mississippi in 1700, an elk was killed on the Black
River, La Crosse County. The account reads: “On the 10th,
[September] at daybreak, they heard a stag whistle on the other
side of the river; a Canadian crossed in a little Sciou (Sioux)
canoe that he had found. He soon after returned with the body of
the animal, which is easy to kill in the rutting season, that is
from the beginning of September to the end of August [Octo¬
ber] . During that season the hunters make a little whistle of the
first bit of wood or cane, and when they hear a stag whistle, they
answer ; the animal supposing it to be another stag that whistles
comes to them, and they kill it without any difficulty.”3 Subse¬
quently Le Seur passed the mouth of a river so abounding in elk
and other large game that it was called Bon Secours, this being
the present day Chippewa River.
Jonathan Carver4 arrived at Lake Pepin on November 1, 1766.
The land on the Wisconsin side was described as covered with
grass and a few groves of trees near which large droves of elk
and deer were frequently seen feeding. The following year he
ascended the Chippewa River and mentions that for a distance
of sixty miles the banks contained fine meadows on which were
seen larger droves of elk and buffalo than he had found else¬
where. Capt. Goddard, who accompanied Carver, wrote on May
29, 1767: “This is a fine river . . there is plenty of animals,
5
6 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
such as stag, deer, bear and buffalos, of which we killed every
day one sort or other.”5
Information on the early status of the elk in southeastern Wis¬
consin is scanty. Fonda carried the mail from Green Bay to Chi¬
cago the winter of 1827-28. The third day out of Milwaukee he
came to a prairie where some resident Indians were starving
even though the country teemed with elk and other game. There
is no subsequent mention of a live elk. Lapham (1846) wrote
that “horns of the elk are still occasionally found scattered over
the prairies.”7
Elk appear to have disappeared from southwestern Wisconsin
prior to 1840. Hoffman8 was at Prairie du Chien in February,
1834. The army officers at the fort maintained dogs especially to
run elk which abounded at a distance “over the river.” The latter
could have been either the Wisconsin or the Mississippi. Smith”
was in the lead region in 1837 and was informed that elk were
still to be found along the shores of the Wisconsin. A decade later
this animal was stated by McLeod10 to be extinct.
Schoolcraft11 was at Rice Lake, Barron County, in August,
1831. In this area, described as prairie, elk and deer were com¬
mon. The tracks of these animals were also abundant on the sand
bars at the mouth of the Chippewa. Brunson, in 1843, traveled
by team from Prairie du Chien to La Pointe, a good indication of
the openness of the country. In describing the route from Black
River Falls to Chippewa Falls, he stated that it was largely
through prairie where, “The elk and deer tracks were very
numerous. Some of the company saw elk but we killed none.”12
In 1857, Davis13 assisted in the survey for a railroad to run
from Portage to Chippewa Falls. Numerous shed elk antlers
were noted along the line. No elk were seen and he suggests that
there may have been none at that time.
The most extensive account of the elk in Wisconsin is con¬
tained in the following paragraph from Copley: “The elk is to be
found in the west, on the neutral ground lying between the Sioux
and Ojibway nations; at the head waters of the Wisconsin; in
the northern parts of Michigan, and near the Chippeway, St.
Croix, Rum and Red rivers. This is one of the noblest looking
animals in our country. When on the run, its head is held high,
its back curved, on which its horns appear to rest. At one time,
in 1837, I saw a drove of five hundred; and a more animating
sight I never beheld. I shot one, and being at that time a prisoner
at the foot of Lake Pepin, and wishing to be generous to my
enemies, I took it to the chief of the tribe that held me. Soon
after I was liberated, and with my cousin Johnson permitted to
depart.”14
1954] Schorger — Elk in Early Wisconsin 7
Bunnell came to La Crosse in 1842 and mentions frequently
the hunting of elk, especially along the Trempealeau River.
Regarding distribution he wrote : “Elk were also abundant there
[mouth of the Chippewa River] in the Mississippi bottoms, on
the prairie, and in the oak thickets below and east of Eau Claire,
extending their range over the headwaters of all the streams
south of the pine-belt as far as Black river. The writer saw a
band of sixty elk, in 1845, on a prairie about eight miles below
Eau Clair, two of which were killed by William Richmond and
myself.”15
Extinction. The elk, being a large, unwary animal, was extir¬
pated quite early on the prairies. It persisted longest in the
western part of the state where it had learned to adapt itself to
woodlands. Small droves were pursued with persistence by
hunters with the knowledge that the majority of the elk could
be killed.
In November, 1866, a band of twelve old and young elk crossed
a road in which two hunters were standing, about fifteen miles
west of Menomonie, Dunn County.16 When a dog seized one of
the young, the adult elk came to the rescue giving the hunters an
opportunity to shoot nine of them. Three elk escaped.
The elk may not have become until 1868. Early in January
of this year two hunters from Stevens Point hunted west of
town, across the Wisconsin River, and returned with a “buck”
that weighed 573 pounds and had antlers with a spread of six
feet.17 Only an elk would fit these data.
Strong18 reported in 1883 that elk were to be found very rarely
in northern and central Wisconsin. It is very doubtful if they
persisted to this date. In the spring of 1886, six elk killed in the
“Lake Superior regions” were shipped through Chetek.19 It is
highly probable that they were killed in Minnesota.
Pleistocene Elk. An extinct species of elk, Cervus whitney i,
found in a crevice while mining for lead at Blue Mounds, Wis¬
consin, was described by Allen20 in 1876.
The University collection contains the radius of an elk, UMZ
12,707, found at Boyd in 1937, and donated by George B. Lane
of Bloomer. This specimen, identified by U.S. National Museum,
was overlain by five to six feet of peat and six feet of marl, and
may be Pleistocene.
On November 13, 1953, through the courtesy of Professor
W. F. Read, Lawrence College, I received the fossilized basal
portion of an elk antler. It was found in the bed of a creek in
northeastern Columbia County by Luzern Livingstone, of Madi¬
son, at an unknown date. This is a massive antler and measures
nine inches in circumference between the bez and trez tines.
8 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
Since it was not found in a specific geological formation, its age
is not determinable.
Introductions. An illustrated article by Reese21 describes the
attempts to restore the elk to the Wisconsin fauna. In 1913 a
carload of elk from Yellowstone Park was shipped to Trout Lake.
The sole survivors were two females. Later a bull elk was
obtained and the herd increased slowly in the enclosure provided
for it. A second carload of elk, all young, consisting of 32 cows
and eight bulls, was obtained from Jackson Hole, Wyoming, in
February, 1917. Although the animals arrived in good condition,
14 died during the winter. In August, 1932, the 15 elk remaining
were released from the enclosure. They were not known to have
ranged out of Vilas and Oneida Counties. At the present time
not over two elk survive due to shooting by hunters and other
causes.
Recent Elk Remains. Bones of elk are seldom found, but the
antlers have been discovered in considerable numbers. Due to
their porosity, antlers on the uplands soon disintegrate. The
process is hastened by gnawing by rodents. At the present time
antlers are found only in stream beds, lake bottoms, and marshes,
in or around boggy springs, and in Indian burials. Where waters
have a high alkalinity, due to 'dime,” destruction of the bones
and antlers by decay is much slower than in acid waters. Elk
were drowned frequently by breaking through the thin ice.
Miring, either accidental or from stampeding by wolves and
Indians, appears to have been a more frequent cause of death.
The Indians sometimes threw antlers into sacred springs and
hung the heads or antlers in the crotch of a small tree as propiti¬
atory offerings. In 1859 the Wisconsin Historical Society re¬
ceived two specimens of elk antlers embedded in oaks, one from
a white oak cut in Sauk County, and the other from a bur oak
from Walworth County. About 40 years ago the Society gave the
Forest Products Laboratory at Madison a specimen embedded in
a white oak and this is still in their possession. The section of
this tree shows approximately 95 annual rings and is 14.5 inches
in diameter. If it is the specimen found in Sauk County in 1857,
the tree began life about 1760, and it is probable that the antler
was hung in it 10 to 15 years later.
Records. The distribution of elk as shown by the literature
and the discovery of antlers is shown on the accompanying map.
The range of the elk in the state was strikingly like that of the
buffalo,22 showing that the elk was also predominantly a prairie
animal. The records by counties are given below.
1954]
Schorger — Elk in Early Wisconsin
9
Adams. Two hunters, L. S. Crain and J. Haggerty, killed an
elk on the Roche-a-cri River in November, 1855. 1 Being too large
to transport, it was sold for $10.00. An elk horn four feet in
length was found in the county under a windfall in 1890. 2
1 Milwaukee Daily Wisconsin , Dec. 11, 1855. 2 Grand (Wisconsin) Rapids Re¬
porter, April 24, 1890.
Ashland. Jackson states that he has examined antlers from the
county.1
1 Jackson, H. H. T. A preliminary list of Wisconsin mammals. Bull. Wis. Nat.
Hist. Soc., 6 (1908) 15.
Barron. Schoolcraft, as previously mentioned, found elk tracks
numerous at Rice Lake in 1881. Government surveyors in 1852-
53 found a herd of five elk near the present site of Prairie Farm.1
10 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
Hoy2 reported elk on Hay River in 1863. This stream flows
through Barron and Dunn Counties.
1 Eau Claire Telegram, Sept. 20, 1922. 2 P. R. Hoy, Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci., 5
(1882) 256.
Bayfield. An antler was found near Bayfield by William
Cadotte.1
xWis. Cons. Bull., 2 (6), (June, 1937) 38.
Brown. Brayton,1 writing in 1882, stated on the authority of
B. H. Van Vleck that elk were still t(5 be found in the vicinity of
Green Bay. The accuracy of this statement is doubtful, especially
from the following: “An elk horn was found in digging the
water-works trench on Webster Avenue. ... It was in the old
swamp . . . and embedded about six feet in the ground. . . . The
memory of the oldest inhabitant (and there are some who have
lived here 70 years or more) does not go back to the time when
elk roamed in these forests.”2 Only one antler and no bones were
found.
Under date of July 23, 1953, H. V. Bloemen, Conservation
Department Warden, wrote that about 1900 his father while
seining at the mouth of Ashwaubanon Creek, which enters the
Fox River about a mile below DePere, brought up a part of an
elk antler with a large piece of the skull attached. About 1930,
while a student at Lawrence College, he gave the antler to Dr.
Rufus Bagg. The specimen cannot now be located.
1 Brayton, A. W. Report on the geological survey of Ohio. Vol. 4, Part 1 (1882)
p. 80. 2 Green Bay Advocate, Nov. 18, 188”6.
Buffalo. Cooke gives a good account of the abundance of elk in
1856. The Sioux crossed the Mississippi to hunt in the county on
account of the abundance of game. Regarding the winter of
1856-57 with its deep snow, he wrote: “During the winter we
often saw elk cross the valley, always led by a bull elk. ... He
would take a few jumps and stop, the cows would follow, jump¬
ing into the bull's tracks. Then he would move on a little ways
and again stop, then the cows would follow as before.”1 Harvey
Brown killed a few elk during this winter.2
The Indians in the fall of 1857 killed three or four elk in the
vicinity of Elk Creek.3 This stream flows into the Buffalo River
in the northeastern corner of the county. In 1858 a party of
hunters from Lancaster killed an elk on Beef (Buffalo) River.4
Kessinger,5 writing in 1888, stated that elk were once common
but were now extinct. Mr. Jacob Bream, of Cream, informed
Cory0 that in 1870 he found a pair of antlers attached to the skull
in Township 22, Range 11, West.
1 Cooke, W. W. Wis. Mag. Hist., 23 (1940) 288, 291, and 297; cf. F. Curtiss-
Wedge, History of Buffalo and Repin Counties, Wisconsin. Winona (1919) P- 953.
1954]
Schorger- — Elk in Early Wisconsin
11
» Brown, H. Wis. Cons. Bull., 8 (5), (May, 1943) 19. 3 Milwaukee (d) Sentinel,
Oct 3, 1857. 4 Madison State Journal , Oct 4, 1858. 6 Kessinger, L. History of Buffalo
County. Alma' (1888) p. 42. 6 'Cory, C. B. The mammals of Illinois and Wisconsin.
(1912) p. 71.
Burnett. There is no definite record. Curot1 had a trading post
on the Yellow River the winter of 1803-04. In the translation of
his journal elk are mentioned several times. This is incorrect for
the MS reads orignal , the French for moose. His haunches of
Manichinsse may mean elk, but I have been unable to find an
Indian or French-Canadian word to support this suggestion.
In October, 1877, a party of hunters camped in the Town of
Waubeek, Pepin County, en route to the Yellow River where they
expected to get elk.2
1 Curot, Michel. Journal , 1803-04. Wis. Hist. Colls., 20 (1911) 396. 2 Durand
Times Oct. 11, 1877.
Chippewa. Elk Creek rises in the Town of Howard. Joseph
Roberts came to Chippewa Falls in the spring of 1840 when deer
and elk were plentiful.1 H. A. Town settled in the Town of
Wheaton in 1857. 2 In March, 1862, a drove of about a dozen elk
appeared for the first time in years. Neighbors, mounted on
horses, wantonly slaughtered them.
A writer mentions that elk were extinct in 1874, but that eight
years previously he found their tracks numerous in the northern
parts of Chippewa and Dunn Counties.3 Two hunters are stated
to have found two large elk, and wounded one of them, in the
Town of Arthur in November, 1888. 4 It is doubtful if elk per¬
sisted to this date.
1Chippewa Falls Herald , Nov. 26, 1880. 2 Eau Claire Leader , Jan. 6, 1923. 3 Chip¬
pewa Falls Herald, July 3, 1874. 4 Chippewa Falls Herald , Nov. 16, 1888.
Clark. An elk weighing 450 pounds dressed was killed on Halls
River, 20 miles above Black River Falls, by Isaac S. Mason on
August 9, 1854,1 This would place the locality in southwestern
Clark County. The antlers were stated to weigh 43.5 pounds.
1 La Crosse Republican , Aug. 23; Milwaukee (d) Sentinel, Sept. 1, 1854.
Columbia . Numerous remains of elk were found in Swan Lake
about 25 years ago while dredging for marl. About five years ago
some boys brought to Elmer A. Werner, Pardeeville, the antlers
of an elk, part of the skull containing a few teeth, and some of
the other bones. Only the antlers were preserved and these I
have seen. The outside measurement of one antler was 44.75
inches.
J. W. Jamieson, Pardeeville, has fragments of two antlers
found in Swan Lake about 15 years ago. These measure 31 and
37 inches, respectively. M. G. Cornford, Randolph, has the basal
fragments of two antlers, found in a tamarack swamp, Town of
12 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
Courtland, which I have seen. They measure 24.5 and 17.5
inches.
Crawford. There are several references to the abundance of
elk along the Kickapoo River in the 1850’s.1
1 Lancaster Herald, Sept. 25, 1849; Milwaukee Wisconsin, June 20, 1850; Mil¬
waukee Advertiser, Jan. 14, 1852 ; Prairie du Chien Courier; Milwaukee (w) Wis¬
consin Nov. 26, 1856.
Dane. There is no reliable record of a live elk having been seen
in the county. H. A. Tenney, who came to Madison in 1846,
merely states that the elk found a home here.1 Nathan Cramp-
ton, who settled in Madison in 1847, informed Willis E. Barber2
that he had stood for hours watching herds of elk and deer
gather in the evening on the present site of the University
campus. On April 26, 1942, I consulted Dr. Samuel Chase on this
statement. He said that Crampton was fundamentally honest but
confused in his knowledge. He doubted the statement and gave
as evidence that his grandfather, Jonathan Larkin, settled at
Lake Wingra in 1842, and that no elk were present at that time.
In 1891, A. Waterman, while cleaning out a spring on his farm
in the Town of Rutland, near Stoughton, found a pair of antlers
attached to the skull.'3 An antler four feet in length was recov¬
ered from a spring on the Ephraim Baker farm, Town of Bristol,
in 1894. 4 On May 14, 1939, I examined part of an antler that was
found in the small bay at the southwestern corner of Fish Lake,
Town of Roxbury. There is a part of an antler 21 inches in length
at the Nevin Fish Hatchery and presented by Otis Bersing. The
latter informed me that it was found by a local resident in 1917
in the Town of Rutland while excavations were being made on
Badfish Creek, near County Trunk A, about three miles southeast
of Oregon. While digging a trench in the Town of Vermont in
1886, an antler weighing 14 pounds was found.5
Numerous remains of elk were found at Lake Wingra in exca¬
vating the lagoons at Wingra Park, and in dredging for the Lake
Forest real estate development.6 One antler, UMZ 4324, was
found in 1906 or 1907. On July 16, 1953, through the generosity
of Mrs. John Russell, a fine pair of elk antlers attached to the
skull was obtained for the University. This find was made in
Lake Wingra by her brother William Priebe. Subsequent search
of the local papers revealed that the discovery was made in July,
1918.7 The entire skeleton was present. Mrs. Russell informed
me that subsequent to removal of the antlers, Priebe returned to
secure some of the bones but could not locate the place. Length
of antlers, 51 inches ; spread 47.5 inches ; weight with skull, 34.5
pounds.
1954]
Schorger- — Elk in Early Wisconsin
13
Harold Longua has informed me that in 1928, while seining
for carp in the “widespread” of the Cherokee Marsh (Yahara
River) he brought up a large elk antler. I have a section of an
antler, 19 inches in length, donated by Art Amundsen, Nevin
Fish Hatchery. It was found about 40 years ago by William
Anderson on Straavoldson’s Marsh, Section 16, Town of Dun¬
kirk.
1 Tenney, H. A. In W. J. Park, Madison , Dane County and surrounding toxons.
Madison (1887), p. 541. 2 Barber, W. E. In M. M. Quaife, Wisconsixv: its history and
its people . Chicago, Vol. 2 (1924) 386. 3 Portage Register, Oct. 3, 1891. 4 Portage
Register, Sept. 29, 1894. 6 Milwaukee Journal, Sept. 29, 1886. 6 Brown, C. E. Lake
Wingra. Wis. Archeol., 14 (3), (Sept. 1915) 79. 7 Madison State Journal, July 7,
1918, p. 7.
Dodge, It is stated by Charles Mortimer that a fine elk was
seen in the Town of Ashippun in the spring of 1846 ; also a pair
of antlers was unearthed in plowing a piece of marshy ground
in the fall of 1897.1
The University Museum has a pair of antlers, UMZ 4325,
originally donated to the Wisconsin Historical Society by Mrs.
Emma House, Reeseville. There are no further data.
In cleaning the Vita, or Ackerman, Spring at Beaver Dam
many elk and deer antlers were found.2
On October 6, 1953, the University received from V. G. Hamil¬
ton, Fox Lake, two elk antlers found in Fox Lake by C. M. Sager
about 50 years ago. The antlers represent two elk as they differ
considerably. A. Amundsen has informed me that two antlers
were found in Fox Lake in 1935 while seining for rough fish.
1 Oconomowoc Free Press, Jan. 22, 1898. 2 Juneau Telephone, March 19, 1880;
Anon. The history of Dodge County, Wisconsin . Chicago (1880), p. 453.
Douglas . Elk, deer, and moose were mentioned in 1855 as
attractions for tourists.1 Sergeant William Glader stated that in
this year there was little to eat at Superior except elk and fish.2
1 Superior Chronicle, Sept. 4, 1855. 2 Superior Telegram, Sept. 12, 1916.
Dunn. A pioneer wrote in 1884 that herds of elk formerly
roamed the “Big Woods” that covered the western part of the
county ; that the elk made its best speed while trotting and was
ungainly when forced into a gallop.1 Gilbert2 had a mill on the
Menomonie River in 1843 and obtained elk meat from the
Indians. In August, 1855, Harvey Lesure saw a herd of twelve
elk near the present site of Colfax.3
Elk, by 1855, had become uncommon. Albert Quilling came to
the Iron Creek District in June, 1855. 4 There were only a few
elk, but shed antlers could be found in the groves and prairies.
He states that in the vicinity of Elk Mound a Mr. Ramsey found
two bull elk with locked horns and he killed the one that re-
14 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
mained alive. Eugene Wiggins came to the county in May, 1855,
and never saw more than one drove of elk. In the fall of 1857,
Cartwright6 came upon the tracks of twelve to fifteen elk and
pursued them all day without success. Near the Eau Galle River,
in December, 1858, he pursued seven elk. One was wounded and
found dead the next day.
An elk killed in the Menomonie woods in February, 1860, by
K. Freeman, was brought to Sparta and shipped to Fond du Lac.7
John Bailey, who came to Knapp in 1862, spent much of his time
hunting deer and elk.8 Two elk were killed by a Menomonie
hunter in November, 1864.9 The last elk were killed in 1866.10
Bartlett mentions seeing several good specimens of elk antlers
found in Elk Creek in the southeastern part of the county.11 An
antler measuring four feet and five inches was found in the creek
in 1879. 12
1 "Pioneer.” Recollections of early days in the (Big Woods’ of Dunn « County .
Menomonie News, Feb. 2, 1884. 2 Gilbert, O. Pioneer reminiscences. Wis. Mag. Hist.,
14 (1930) 190. 3 Eau Claire Telegram, Sept. 20, 1922. 4 Menomonie News, Oct. 23.
1919, 7. & Menomonie News, June 14, 1923. 6 Cartwright, David W. Natural history
of western wild animals. (1875) pp. 238, 242, and 244. 7 Fond du Lac Common¬
wealth, Feb. 22; Madison Patriot, Feb. 18, 1860. 8 Menomonie News, Feb. 15, 1879.
2 Menomonie Lumberman: Milwaukee Sentinel, Nov. 23, 1864. 10 Menomonie News,
Dec. 1, 1866. 11 Eau Claire Telegram, April 28, 1926, 3. 12 Eau Claire (w) Free
Press, Oct. 9, 1879.
Eau Claire. Ivory Livermore came to the Town of Otter Creek
in 1856 and he saw many elk.1 His father killed two or three
from a herd of sixteen. An elk was killed in 1857 a few miles
west of Eau Claire.2 On January 1, 1858, a herd of 60 elk was
seen in the Town of Bridge Creek.3 This herd was pursued on the
2nd by three men, among them the noted hunters J. F. Stone and
Charles Buckman. Late in the afternoon, they caught up with
the elk on the Buffalo River, about three miles below Osseo,
Trempealeau County, and killed four of them. The pursuit was
continued the following day and four additional animals killed.
Nine elk were killed from a drove in the Town of Bridge Creek
in January, I860.4 The four elk subsequently exposed for sale in
the Milwaukee market and stated to have been killed in Eau
Claire County, were probably from this lot.5
1 Bartlett, W. W. History . . . Chippetva Valley. [1929], p. 214. 2 Madison State
Journal, Aug. 17, 1857. 3 Eau Claire Free Press, Dec. 2, 1858. 4 Ibid., Jan. 12, 1860.
5 Milwaukee Wisconsin, Jan. 21, and Sentinel, Jan. 23, 1860.
Fond du Lac. It was stated in 1860 that elk were common a
“few years ago”.1 While excavating at Lake de Neveu, Town of
Empire, in 1867, the antlers and skeleton of an elk were found.
Among the bones was a flint arrowhead.2 In 1875 a pair of
antlers was found in a spring in the Town of Oakfield.3
On July 17, 1953, the boys at the Boy Scout Camp on Long
Lake, Town of Osceola, while swimming, found an antler and
1954]
Schorger — Elk in Early Wisconsin
15
several bones of an elk. Prof. R. A. McCabe and I went to Long
Lake on July 30 to investigate the site. The remains were found
close to the pier in 5 feet of water and about 100 feet from the
shore which is a high bank. The antler measured 47.5 inches.
Subsequently the other antler and most of the bones were recov¬
ered. These are now in the University collection. Clyde T. Smith,
Acting Area Coordinator, Kettle Moraine State Forest, informed
me that Long Lake was originally largely marsh, and was con¬
verted to a lake by a dam constructed about 70 years ago.
1 Fond du Lac Commonwealth , Feb. 22, 1860. 2 Fond du Lac (w) Reporter , Sept.
7, 1867. 3 Watertown Democrat, Dec. 23, 1875.
Grant. Hollman1 settled at Platteville in 1828 and at that time
elk and other game were to be found in “astonishing quantities”.
The MS of his autobiography was written in 1870.
1 Hollman, F. G. Auto-biography of Frederick G. Hollman. Platteville. n.d., p. 3.
Green. An elk antler was found in 1877 on an uncultivated
piece of ground near Brodhead.1 Old settlers stated that it was
about 40 years since elk occurred in the neighborhood.
1 Brodhead Independent : Madison State Journal, May 1, 1877, 1.
Green Lake. Dart1 came to the county in 1840 when elk were
still to be found on Willow River, and at times around Green
Lake. Shed antlers were found often. Bones of elk were found in
a “sacred” spring near the Fox River.2 Leroy C. Hansen, of the
Wisconsin Conservation Department, has informed that some
years ago, while seining for rough fish, he found a pair of elk
antlers in the Fox River at Princeton.
1 Dart, Richard. Settlement of Green Lake County. Proc. Wis. Hist. Soc. for 1909.
(1910) p. 260. 2 Brown, C. E. Wis. Archeol., 5 (1), (Oct, 1905) 214.
Iowa. In 1861, while prospecting near Dodgeville, J. A. Hamil¬
ton sunk a shaft eight feet deep.1 On removing some rock he
found a complete elk antler that became crumbly on exposure.
I have the basal part of an antler donated by Henry Wagner,
Mineral Point. It was found by him on August 2, 1953, in the
Rock Branch of the Pecatonica River, Town of Mineral Point.
The antler with the above data was brought to me by Cleveland
P. Grant.
1 Dodgeville Advocate : Madison Argus & Democrat, Aug-. 6, 1861, 1.
Iron. Jackson1 states that he has examined antlers of elk found
in this county.
1 Jackson, H. H. T. A preliminary list of Wisconsin mammals. Bull. Wis. Nat.
Hist. Soc., 6 (1908) 15.
Jackson. On January 31, 1857, fifteen elk were killed out of a
drove of thirty.1 The locality is not stated.
1 Black River Falls Banner: Janesville Democratic Standard, March 2, 1857.
16 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
Jefferson. Excavations at ancient Aztalan yielded fragments
of antlers and several scapulae of elk.1 The latter, perforated
with a square hole, were used to remove the “bark” in the prepa¬
ration of fibers.
A pair of “gigantic elk horns” was brought up from the
bottom of Rock Lake by a fisherman in 1875. 2 Hough3 mentions
a perfect pair of antlers found near Palmyra in 1895. According
to Hawkins4 the elk had disappeared from Faville Grove Prairie
prior to settlement. He saw two antlers that had been plowed up
and had heard of others being found.
Mr. Omar Huebner has written me that in plowing a piece of
low ground, about 1918, he uncovered a single elk antler about
four feet in length. He has about 15 inches of the basal portion
of the beam, the remainder being too decomposed for preserva¬
tion. It was found 100 yards south of U. S. Highway 16, Section
17, Town of Ixonia.
In 1932 a pair of elk antlers was found deeply buried at Lake
Ripley by workmen constructing a bathing beach.5 They came
into possession of Mrs. Ernie Wrolstad, Amherst Junction, Wis¬
consin. Elmer Herman, Fisheries Supervisor, has informed me
that on April 8, 1954, an elk antler was found in this lake in
seven feet of water.
Chester J. Skelly, Milton, has informed me that an elk antler
found by carp seiners in Lake Koshkonong about ten years ago
is now in the possession of Carl Schmeling, Maple Beach, Lake
Koshkonong. The brow tine of a small antler, found in July,
1953, on the Faville Grove Prairie, Town of Milford, has been
donated by James Zupke, Lake Mills.
1 Barrett, S. A. Ancient Aztalan. Milwaukee, (1933), pp. 170, 183, 289, and 290.
2 Watertown Democrat, Oct. 7, 1875. 3 Hough, E. Elk horns in Wisconsin. Forest
and Stream, 45 (1895) 271. 4 Hawkins, A. S. A xoildlife history of Faville Grove,
Wisconsin. Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci., 32 (1940) 57. 6 'Cambridge News, Sept. 30, 1932.
Kenosha. In 1896 Otis Baker, Bristol, presented to the His¬
torical Society of Wisconsin an elk antler found at Bristol in
1851. 1 It weighed 22 pounds. This specimen cannot be located.
1 Proc. Hist. Soc. Wis. for 1896, (1897) p. 49.
La Crosse. Bunnell has been previously cited on the abundance
of elk when he arrived in 1842. A party of La Crosse hunters
under Major Brandenburg killed seven elk on a hunt made in
December, 1858.1
In a cave in the Town of Barre, there were found in 1878
drawings of an elk and a bodkin seven inches in length, made
presumably from the leg bone of this animal.2
1 La Crosse Independent Republican, Dec. 22, 1858. 2 Brown, E. Wis. Hist. Foils.,
8 (1879) 176-79.
1954]
Schorger — Elk in Early Wisconsin
17
Lafayette. Elk Grove, Town of Elk Grove, is reputed to have
been so named from the former occurrence of elk.1 Charles
Rodolph settled at Fort Hamilton, now Wiota, Town of Wiota,
in 1834, at which time there were some elk.2 On January 16, 1954
Fred Wagner showed me the basal portion of an elk antler, 22
inches in length, loaned by Edward Saalsaa, South Wayne. It
was found by him about seven years previously at the junction
of Applebranch Creek and Whiteside Creek, Town of Wiota.
i Conley, P. H. The early history of Lafayette Co. Wis. Mag. Hist., 2 (1919) 329.
* Rodolf, C. In History of Grant 'County, Wisconsin. Chicago (1881), p. 800.
Lincoln. On October 19, 1874, Joseph Gordon, wrote from
Grandfather Falls, Town of Rock Falls, that he had found an elk
antler a mile to the eastward. The antler was received by the
editor of the Wausau Wisconsin.1
1 Wausau Wisconsin, Nov. 4, 1874.
Marathon. Cory1 was informed by Paul Hohnheiser, Wausau,
that he had a large pair of antlers, measuring 45 inches in
length, found in a lake in that vicinity. An antler was found by
N. C. Ewing, Wausau, at the bottom of Lake Go-to-it, Town of
Norrie.2
1 Cory, C. B. The mammals of Illinois and Wisconsin (1912) p. 71. 2 Quaife, M. M.
Wisconsin : its history and its people. Chicago, Vol. 2 (1924) 386.
Milwaukee. There were no elk at Milwaukee in 1800, accord¬
ing to Le Claire.1 A pair of elk antlers, said to be the largest ever
taken in Wisconsin, was on exhibit in Milwaukee in April, 1857. 2
Their provenance is not stated.
Hough3 mentions seeing a skull and antlers in the taxidermy
shop of Carl E. Akeley in Milwaukee. They were found at Hales
Corners, about 18 miles from the city. About 1889 the Public
Museum received from F. Miller part of an antler found four
feet below the surface at Miller’s Brewery in Wauwatosa.4
1 Le Claire, A. Wis. Hist. Soc. Colls., 11 (1888) 240. 2, Milwaukee Sentinel, April
18, 1857. 3 Hough, E. Elk in Wisconsin. Forest and Stream, 44 (1895) 369. 4 Ward,
H. L. The American elk in southern Wisconsin. Bull. Wis. Nat. Hist. Soc., 6 (1908)
146.
Oneida. Arthur A. Oehmcke, Wisconsin Conservation Depart¬
ment, has informed me of the discovery of elk antlers at the edge
of a cedar swamp, Sec. 32, T38N, R4E, northwest of Willow
Lake. In 1914 or 1915, Ed Wilson, a trapper, found an elk antler
that is now in the possession of Charles Talbot who has a resort
south of Willow Lake. Mr. Talbot, in 1921 or 1922, in the same
swamp found “parts of three or four antler sets” that were so
weathered as to crumble on handling.
18 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
Outagamie. On September 6, 1898, Charles Millard found part
of an elk antler in the bank of the Embarrass River 3.5 feet
below the surface of the ground.1
1 New London Press , Sept. 8, 1898.
Ozaukee. Philip Schlegel, West Bend, has in his collection the
basal half of an antler found in a swamp in Section 20, Town of
Mequon. He stated that about 50 years ago some boys, while
skating on the clear ice of one of the small lakes in the central
part of the county, discovered a pair of antlers. The latter were
taken to a saloon in Newburg.
Pepin . Statements on the abundance of elk along the Chippewa
River by the early writers have been cited previously. A drove of
elk in 1844 nearly capsized the canoe of Bunnell1 in Buffalo
Channel (Beef Slough). Later he killed one elk out of a drove of
sixty.
1 Bunnell, L. H. Winona and its environs. (1897) p. 54.
Pierce. Elk were quite common in the 1850’s. In the winter of
1855-56, John McLaughlin, Town of Trimbelle, killed five elk
that were sold for 7 to 10 cents per pound.1 He is stated to have
killed several elk the winter of 1856-57 while camped in the
Rush River Valley, Town of El Paso.2 In February, 1857, elk
were stated to be “comparatively plenty” and that several were
killed along the Trimbelle and Rush Rivers.3 Wise saw many deer
and elk tracks along the Rush River.4
A white oak was cut in 1866 four miles below Prescott that
contained imbedded in it, eight feet from the ground, a pair of
elk antlers.5 The latter had a “spread of four feet from tip to
tip.”
1 Prescott Transcript, Jan. 25, Feb. 8, 1856; Milwaukee Sentinel, Feb. 4, 1856.
2 Ellsworth Herald, April 5, 1882. 3 Prescott Transcript, Feb. 14, 1857. 4 Wise P. V.
A winter Excursion. Madison Patriot, Jan. 8, 1857. 5 Prescott Journal, Feb. 3, 1866.
Polk. Elk were stated to be plentiful at Balsam Lake in 1855.1
Excavation in a bed of marl near Osceola, yielded a few bones of
elk and caribou.2 It is not known if these were Recent.
1 Hudson Star, July 11, 1855, 3. 2 Eddy, S. and Jenks, A. E. Science, 81 (1935) 535.
Portage. It is highly probable that the ‘buck” weighing 573
pounds, shot in 1868, was an elk.1
1 Stevens Point Lumberman, Jan. 10 1868.
Price. No definite record. There is an Elk Lake at Phillips
draining through Elk River into the South Fork of the Flam¬
beau. The origin of the name is unknown. It is stated on the edi¬
torial page of the Prairie du Chien Courier of June 11, 1878, that
1954]
Schorger — Elk in Early Wisconsin
19
some “large elk” and bears were being killed on the Flambeau
River near Butternut Lake. The editor had an article describing
the Butternut area in the May 21 issue of this paper and did not
mention elk among the game animals.
Racine . West1 wrote in 1903 that elk antlers were found fre¬
quently in spring holes and marshes.
i West, G. A. Wis. Archeol., 3 (1), (Oct., 1903) 7.
Rock. The winter of 1858-59, Jeremiah Dame, Town of Har¬
mony, cut down a white oak 20 inches in diameter that contained
an elk antler imbedded in it four to five feet from the ground.1
A crew seining rough fish at the southern end of Lake Koshko-
nong in 1937 brought up a large pair of antlers between Thie-
beau and Bingham Points.2 A part of an elk antler found in a
marsh on the Knutson farm near Orfordville in 1951 was iden¬
tified by Prof. W. H. Burt, University of Michigan, as that of an
elk.3 I have been informed by Ray Roberts, Brooklyn, that about
1949 he found an antler in a marsh on his farm 1.5 miles east of
Union, Town of Union.
1 Janesville (d) Gazette, April 14, 1859. 2 Wis. Cons. Bull., 2-3 (Dec.-Jan., 1937-
38) 68. 3 Milwaukee Journal, Sept. 16, 1951.
Saint Croix. Elk were stated to be plentiful on the St. Croix
River in 18501 and in the environs of Hudson in 1855. 2 In the
late fall of 1866, J. Hurd and Elias Grimes, Town of Richmond,
came upon a drove of 12 elk in the “Big Woods” in the eastern
part of the county. Of this drove nine were killed and two were
wounded.3 The hunters remarked on the ease with which the elk
were killed. Hallock4 listed elk among the game of the county in
1877. This was probably incorrect.
1 Milwaukee (d) Wisconsin , April 15, 1850. 2 Hudson Star, Aug-. 8, 1855, 3.
3 Hudson Star and Times, Dec. 5, 1866. 4 Hallock, C. The sportsman’s gazetteer.
(1877) p. 177.
Sauk. The elk antler embedded in a white oak has been previ¬
ously described.1 Canfield2 came to the county in 1842 and fol¬
lowed its natural history closely. He states that only one or two
elk were killed by white men. T. J. Morgans3 settled in the Town
of Franklin in 1848, Section 32, where he saw an elk killed. Dr.
F. D. Hulburt, Reedsburg, has stated that the Indians killed a
bull elk in the Town of Washington in 1850, at which time elk
were scarce in Wisconsin.4 According to Cole,5 the last elk was
killed by John Cooper in the Town of Franklin in 1854. Elk
antlers were found quite frequently by the early settlers.6 The
so-called deer effigy in the Town of Troy, with its backward
sweep of the antlers, is far more suggestive of an elk.7
1 Baraboo Republic , Jan. 31, 1857, 2. 2 Canfield, W. H. A catalogue of the indige¬
nous animals of Sauk County. (1870) p. 39. 3 T. J. Morgans. Seventh annual meet-
20 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
ing of the Sauk i County old settlers ’ association. Aug-. 22, 1878, p. 7. 4 Baraboo News,
Oct. 29, 1921. 5 Cole, H. E. A standard history of Sauk 1 County , Wisconsin. Chicago,
Vol. 1 (1918) p. 104. 6 Cole, H. E. Wis. Archeol. n.s. 1 (3), (Aug., 1922) 84. 7 Stout,
A. B. Wis. Archeol., 5 (2), (Jan.-April, 1906) 253.
Sawyer. On July 28, 1953, Ernest Swift, Director of the Wis¬
consin Conservation Department, wrote to me that about 1905
Peter Larson found an elk antler in Mosquito Brook, about three
miles northeast of Hayward.
Sheboygan. In 1901 William Schwartz sent to the Milwaukee
Public Museum a large pair of antlers found in Elkhart Lake
about 32 years previously.1 William Kuhlmey an old resident of
the Town of Plymouth, had elk antlers in his collections.2 The
bones of “bear, elk and deer” have been found at the Indian vil¬
lage sites on the shore of Lake Michigan south of the mouth of
the Black River, Town of Wilson.3 The Potawatomi, Simon
Kaquados, stated that formerly there were many elk at Elkhart
Lake.4
1 Plymouth Review, Nov. 13, 1901. 2 Ibid., Dec. 4, 1901. 3 Gerend, A. Wis. Archeol .,
1 (3), (April, 1902) 15. 4 Lawson, P. V. Ibid., 19 (2), (April, 1920) 69.
Trempealeau. “Elk were found in great abundance along the
whole length of the Trempealeau River.”1 Eight elk were killed
January 2 and 3, 1858, along the Buffalo River in the northern
part of the county.2 In 1862 one elk was killed out of a drove of
ten in the northern part of the county.3 Pursuit of the others was
abandoned on account of a severe storm.
1 Randall, T. E. Early history. Black River Falls Banner, Feb. 10, 1869; cf. L. H.
Bunnell, l. c. 2 Eau Claire Free Press, Dec. 2, 1858. 3 Galesville Transcript, Jan. 31,
1862.
Vernon. A hunting party in the spring of 1850 killed an elk at
the head of the Bad Axe River.1 Ole Espe, Viroqua, has written
to me that about 1920 he found an elk antler in a stream near
Viroqua, Town of Jefferson.
1 North-western Wisconsin. Madison Argus, June 18, 1850.
Walworth. Elkhorn is stated to have derived its name from the
finding of a pair of elk antlers in a tree in 1836 by Col. Samuel
Phoenix of Delavan.1 A pair embedded in a bur oak in the Town
of Spring Prairie was also found in 1857. 2 E. B. Warner found
a pair of antlers in 1876 in a spring on his place about five miles
south of Whitewater.3 A pair of antlers found in an Indian burial
at Fontana was contributed to the Geneva Lake Historical Soci¬
ety.4 The elk teeth found in a similar grave at Lake Geneva were
evidently part of a necklace.5
Hollister wrote in 1908 that sections of antlers were still found
occasionally in the county, frequently in marshy ground, and
that a fine pair was recovered from Delavan Lake a few years
1954]
Schorger — Elk in Early Wisconsin
21
previously.6 A pair was also found in this lake in 1939 by a state
crew in removing rough fish.
1 Elkhorn Independent, June 23, 1932. 2>Madison P'atriot, Oct. 10, 1857. 3 Delavan
Republican, Aug'. 11, 1876. 4 Walworth Times, Oct. 3, 1929, 1. 5 Brown, C. E. and
Brown, T. T. Wis. Archeol. n.s. 7 (3), (April, 1928) 148. 3 Hollister, N. Notes on
Wisconsin mammals. Bull. Wis. Nat. Hist. Soc., 6 (1908) 137.
Washington. An antler was found near Hartford in 1855.1
T. Baldwin made an unpublished archeological report (Hist. Soc.
of Wis.) in which he stated that an elk antler was removed in
1936 from Green Lake, Town of Farmington. Philip Schlegel,
West Bend, has a large collection of horns and antlers. He has
the basal end, 13 inches in length, of an antler found on the sur¬
face of a swamp, Section 19, Town of Trenton ; also a fragment
10.5 inches in length, with skull containing teeth attached, found
in a spring hole on Gov. Phillips Farm, Town of Hartford. Other
finds to his knowledge are: a set of antlers from Silver Lake,
Town of West Bend; a set from Big Cedar Lake, Town of West
Bend ; and two sets from the Town of Hartford, one being found
in Pike Lake, and the other in a swamp on the edge of Pike Lake.
1 Milwaukee Democrat, May 1, 1855, 3.
Waukesha. The Milwaukee Public Museum has a set of antlers
plowed up on the farm of Frank Clark in the Town of Pewau-
kee.1 Walter C. Pelzer has sent me a photograph of a splendid set
of antlers, attached to the skull, found in a spring hole on the
Ryan Farms, Route 1, Pewaukee, the summer of 1953. Some
bones were found also. Dr. Frank W. Lehmann has written to
me that about fifty years ago William Marquandt found the
entire skeleton of an elk in Lake Keesus, Town of Merton.
1Ward, H. L. The American elk in southern Wisconsin. Bull. Wis. Nat. Hist. Soc.>
6 (1908) 145-46.
Waupaca. On January 12, 1941, Guy Mumbrue, Waupaca,
wrote to me that his father was a persistent hunter. About 1870
his dog routed an elk with a “big spread of horns” from a swamp
five miles northeast of Pine River, Town of Dayton. The animal
may have been in Waushara County. He failed to get a shot. He
also stated that in the 1850’s, N. W. Nourse, an old hunter saw
a large bull elk on a large, nearly bald hill, about eight miles
south of Waupaca.
Waushara. Mrs. F. N. Hamerstrom has informed me that
Frank Ingalls, who lives on the Roche-a-cri River, southwest of
Plainfield, has a pair of elk antlers that he found in this stream.
H. J. Kent has described two fragments of antlers found in a
marl deposit at Spring Lake, Town of Marion, that he considered
“fossilized”.1 The University has from this deposit a cervical
22 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
vertebra, UMZ 14,435, identified by Dr. D. Dwight Davis, Chi¬
cago Natural History Museum, as from a Cervus, probably
canadensis. According to Kent, “other large fossils” found by
Dana Spees in a marl pit west of Wautoma crumbled soon after
exposure.
1 Kent, H. J. Fossilized antlers on display at Argus. Wautoma Argus, April 29,
1943.
Winnebago. In 1887, George Cross, a farmer living on Ball
Prairie, presented Mayor Dale of Oshkosh, a pair of elk antlers
found about thirty years previously and about twelve miles from
the city.1
The Oshkosh Museum has several whole antlers and fragments
which I inspected in 1942. At that time A. P. Kannenberg of the
Museum, and George Overton, Lake Butte des Morts, considered
remains of elk common, particularly at Indian camp sites.
Part of an antler was found at Lasley Point on the eastern
shore of Lake Winneconne, Town of Winneconne, during archeo¬
logical excavations.2 Other finds have been recorded.13 During
excavation of the burials at the Reigh site on Lake Butte des
Morts, T18N, R16E, Section 7, a project of the Archeological
Survey, two axes made of elk antlers were found July 15 and 19,
1953. The site has been identified as Glacial Kame culture, about
1000 A.D. This type of artifact was previously unknown for Wis¬
consin. Mary Jane Overton, Route 4, Oshkosh, has fragments of
two elk antlers found by her father, George Overton, in a refuse
pit, 30 inches deep, in a gravel pit, T19N, RISE, NW^ Section
3, in 1925. There were ashes and charcoal at the bottom of
the pit.
1 Oshkosh (w) Northwestern, Sept. 15, 1887. 2 Bullock, H. It. Wis. Archeol., 23 (2),
(June, 1942) 40. 3 Kannenberg, A. P. Wis. Archeol., 18 (2), (Jan., 1938) 49;
Overton, G. Fbid., n.s. 11 (3), (April, 1932), 115 and 11 (4), (July, 1932) 158.
Wood. The statement made in 1875 that elk had been discov¬
ered in the county is probably an error.1
1 Milwaukee Commercial Times, Sept. 28, 1875, 2.
References
1. Radisson, Pierre. Fourth voyage, 1661-62. Wis. Hist. Colls., 11 (1883)
79.
2. Allouez, Claude J. Relation of 1669-70. Jesuit Relations, 54 (1899)
219.
3. Penxcaut. Le Seur’s voyage up the Mississippi. Wis . Hist. Colls., 16
(1902) 183.
4. Carver, J. Travels. (1797) 33 and 60.
5. Goddard, Capt. J. S. Military journal . . . made in 1766-67. Typed copy
in Library Wis. Hist. Soc.
6. Fonda, J. H. Early Wisconsin. Wis. Hist. Colls., 5 (1868) 231.
7. Lapham, I. A. Wisconsin. (1846) p. 70.
1954]
Schorger — Elk in Early Wisconsin
23
8. Hoffman, C. F. A winter in the far west. Vol. 2 (1835) pp. 8 and 12.
9. [Smith, W. R.]. Observations on the Wisconsin Territory. (1838) p. 24.
10. McLeod, D. History of Wiskonsan. (1846) p. 143.
11. Schoolcraft, H. R. Personal memoirs. (1851) pp. 388 and 390.
12. Brunson, A. Letter, June 21, 1843. Lancaster Grant County Herald,
July 22, 1843.
13. Davis, A. M. A preliminary railroad survey in Wisconsin in 1857. MS
Wis. Hist. Soc. ; Proc. Wis. Hist. Soc. for 1910. (1911) p. 170.
14. Copway, G. The traditional history of the O jibway nation. (1850) p. 35.
15. Bunnell, L. H. Winona and its environs. Winona (1897) pp. 54, 194,
197, 237, and 330.
16. Menomonie News, Dec. 1, 1866; Madison State Journal , Dec. 6, 1866.
17. Stevens Point Lumberman, Jan. 10, 1868.
18. Strong, M. List of the mammals of Wisconsin. In Geology of Wisconsin,
Survey of 1873-1879. Vol. 1 (1883) 437.
19. Chetek Alert, April 3, 1886.
20. Allen, J. A. Description of some remains of an extinct species of wolf
and an extinct species of deer# from the lead region of the Upper
Mississippi. Am. J. Sci., (3) 11 (1876) p. 49.
21. Reese, S. W. Wisconsin’s elk herd. Wis. Cons. Bull., 9 (4) (April, 1944)
6-10.
22. Schorger, A. W. The range of the bison in Wisconsin. Trans. Wis.
Acad. Sci., 30 (1937) 122.
THE EFFECTS OF GAPEWORM DISEASE
IN PHEASANTS12
Harry G. Guilford1 2 3 and C. A. Herrick
Departments of Zoology and Veterinary Science
University of Wisconsin4
Introduction
The gapeworm, Syngamus trachea (Montague, 1811) V. Sie-
bold, 1836, has been studied in chickens, turkeys, and pheasants,
as well as many other species of birds. Megnin (1881) and
Ortlepp (1923) described the development of the gapeworm eggs,
early larval stages, and adults in pheasants and chickens, respec¬
tively. Wehr (1937a) redescribed the early stages and found that
the larva moulted twice, making the infective stage a third-stage
larva- Olivier (1943) reported on the resistance of chickens,
turkeys, and ring-necked pheasants to the gapeworm. Nodules
produced as a host reaction to gapeworms in the trachea of
pheasants and in turkeys have been described grossly and histo-
pathologically by Clapham (1935) and by Wehr (1937b) respec¬
tively. Gross abnormal changes in the lung were noticed by
Morgan and Clapham (1934) in one chick five days after infec¬
tion in their work on gapeworms. Other researches on the gape¬
worm of poultry have been concerned mainly with its transmis¬
sion from one species of bird to another, and its relationship to
the earthworm which can serve as an intermediate host. Few
papers have dealt with the effects of the parasite on the host
itself. In order to fill some of the gaps in our knowledge on this
latter phase of the problem, the following researches were under¬
taken.
Materials and Methods
All experimental birds were ring-necked pheasants raised on
the Wisconsin State Game and Fur Farm, according to the pro¬
cedure described in the Wisconsin Conservation Department
1 This work was supported by the Wisconsin State Conservation Department and
by the Research Committee of the Graduate School from funds supplied by the
Wisconsin Alumni Research Foundation.
2 Published with permission of the Director of the Agricultural Experiment Sta¬
tion, University of Wisconsin. Publication N.S. 138, Dept, of Veterinary Science.
3 Now at University of Wisconsin Extension Center, Green Bay, Wisconsin.
i The authors wish to acknowledge the cooperation and assistance of the super¬
visor, game managers, biological aids : Dr. Wm. Ozburn, Messrs. Barger and Rinzel,
Messrs. Fuller and Grunkie and the many workmen at the Poynette Game Farm.
25
26 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
Bulletin, “Pheasant Propagation.” The procedure involved tak¬
ing one-day old pheasants and placing them in brooder houses
which held approximately 75 pheasants. They were kept in
brooder houses and adjacent raised wire porches for periods of
several days to one week. Pheasants to be used for controlled
experiments were transferred when one week old to wire mesh
pens that were one foot off the ground. They had no contact with
the ground, nor any means of coming in contact with gapeworm
eggs, larvae, or the intermediate hosts in the ground.
Gapeworm eggs which were to be used to infect pheasants
were teased from the uteri of female gapeworms and placed in
uncovered Petri dishes with 10 cc. of water; the cultures were
kept in a relative humidity of 100% at room temperature. The
cultures eventually contained infective larvae as well as embryo-
nated eggs. When needed the eggs and larvae were mixed with a
known amount of water, shaken, and measured amounts were
administered directly into the crops of experimental pheasants
with a pipette.
Pheasants were killed by a blow on the head in the occipital
region. This method kept the lungs and trachea intact and there
was no hemorrhaging in the region of the lungs. The pheasants
were opened carefully and the sternum, the heart, the liver, and
the esophagus were removed, leaving the lungs and trachea ex¬
posed. These then were removed intact for observation. Pieces of
lung and trachea for histological studies were fixed in buffered
calcium formal solution and a vacuum was applied briefly to
replace air in the lungs with the fixative. Sections were cut from
6 to 10 /x and were stained in Harris’ haematoxylin and eosin.
Measurements of female gapeworms were made by placing
them on the scale of a flat millimeter ruler.
Experimental Data
Experiment 1. The first experiment was performed to estab¬
lish the number of days after an initial infection before gape¬
worms migrated into the trachea and before egg production
began. Each of nine parasite-free pheasants, eight weeks old, was
fed an equal but undetermined number of gapeworm eggs and
larvae. These pheasants were sacrificed and examined at various
intervals after exposure. Data concerning the times the pheas¬
ants were examined, the numbers of paired worms, the sizes of
the female worms, the presence of a verminous pneumonia, and
the presence of inflammatory nodules in the trachea are given in
Table 1.
on the Life Cycle of Gapey/orms in Pheasants (Experiment 1)
1954] Guilford & Herrick— Gap ew or m Disease in Pheasants 27
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28 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48
The results in Table 1 show that the first pheasant to have
gapeworms in the trachea was one autopsied nine days after
exposure, and that every pheasant autopsied after the ninth day
had paired gapeworms in the trachea. Eggs in the eight-cell stage
were present in all female worms 16 days after infection, where¬
as only one worm of the nine found in the pheasant examined
15 days after infection had eggs in the eight-cell stage. A vermi¬
nous pneumonia was visible grossly in infections six to 16 days
old, and nodules were found in the tracheae of those pheasants
examined 15, 16, and 21 days after exposure. The small nodules
found in pheasants examined 15 and 16 days after infection were
visible only on the inside of the tracheae. Those present in pheas¬
ants examined 21 days after infection were large and could be
seen on the outside as well as on the inside of the tracheae.
Histological sections of these nodules showed that the male gape¬
worms had penetrated through the cartilage, and that there was
considerable areolar connective tissue with an infiltration of
lymphocytes in the nodular area on the outside of the trachea
(Figure 7). In some sections the cartilage around the opening
through which the male passed had proliferated forming a ridge
around the worm.
Experiment 2. This experiment was performed to collect addi¬
tional data on the migration of gapeworms and the time egg
production began after exposure. In addition it was performed
to determine the duration of the infection, the times at which a
verminous pneumonia could be observed, and to observe the for¬
mation of nodules around the heads of the male worms in the
tracheae of infected pheasants. Each of 26 parasite-free pheas¬
ants 22 days old, was fed a mixture of approximately 200 gape-
worm eggs and larvae. The pheasants were sacrificed and exam¬
ined at intervals ranging from six hours to 47 days after
exposure. Data concerning the age of the infection at the time
that the pheasant was autopsied, the number of pairs of worms
found in the trachea, the sizes of the female worms, the presence
of a verminous pneumonia, and the presence of inflammatory
nodules in the trachea of each pheasant are shown in Table 2.
The results presented in Table 2 shows that the first worms
were found in the trachea nine days after exposure, and that all
of the pheasants examined thereafter either had worms in the
trachea or inflammatory nodules indicating that the worms had
been in the trachea. Third-stage larvae were found in the lungs
of pheasants examined 36 hours and four days after exposure.
Paired gapeworms were found in the lungs six, seven, and eight
days after exposure. The pheasant examined 27 days after expo¬
sure and those examined on or after the thirty-sixth day of infec-
the Life Cycle of Gapeworms in Pheasants (Experiment 2)
1954] Guilford & Herrick — Gapeworm Disease in Pheasants 29
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30 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
tion had more nodules than worms in the tracheae, indicating a
loss of worms in these older infections.
Eggs in the eight-cell stage were present in all worms exam¬
ined 17 days after exposure. Some eggs in the four-cell stage
were found in the uteri of the female gapeworms from the
pheasant examined 15 days after exposure.
Coughing became evident in almost every experimental pheas¬
ant seven days after exposure to gapeworm eggs and larvae.
Rales could be heard with a stethescope as early as six days after
infection.
A verminous pneumonia was observed grossly in all pheasants
autopsied five to 21 days after exposure, but pheasant 5 had
hemorrhagic areas of a dark brown color which varied in diame¬
ter from 2 to 5 mm. and extended a few millimeters into the lung
tissue two days after exposure. Histopathological changes were
evident as early as two days and as late as 36 days after expo¬
sure. Sections from pheasants examined 48 and 96 hours after
exposure showed a marked hyperemia with slight lymphocyte
infiltration and a general edema. An exudate was found in sev¬
eral of the parabronchi. Six days after infection there was a very
noticeable increase in exudate in both major and minor air pas¬
sages. In some areas of lung, the air capillaries were completely
filled with exudate containing lymphocytes, and where this
occurred there was a hyaline change in the walls of the small
blood vessels. The first eosinophilic granulocytes were found in
lesions at this time. The greatest changes were found in sections
obtained seven and eight days after exposure at which time small
paired gapeworms were apparently moving towards the bronchi.
Sections from both seven- and eight-day infections showed a
high degree of inflammation with eosinophilic granulocytes in
and around the edges of compact masses of lymphocytes. Multi-
nucleate giant cells were found with the lymphocytes. There was
a general edema, increase in mononuclear phagocytes, a change
in the walls of small blood vessels, and air capillaries were filled
almost completely with exudate leaving very little respiratory
surface. Figure 1 shows these conditions. Old hemorrhages in
which red blood cells were hemolysed and had pyknotic nuclei
and were surrounded by a connective tissue wall were found in
the parabronchi. Paired gapeworms were found in the para¬
bronchi near the edges of highly inflamed areas in the lungs.
Figure 2 shows an immature gapeworm in the lungs eight days
after exposure.
Sections of lung taken from pheasants after the worms had
migrated from the lung to the trachea showed a gradual healing.
On the thirteenth day after exposure sections showed many
1954] Guilford & Herrick — Gapeworm Disease in Pheasants 31
eosinophilic granulocytes in areas where the exudate was break¬
ing up. The lymphocytes were less numerous than before, but the
areas of lymphoid tissues in the lungs were much larger than
normal. On the fifteenth day after exposure there were still large
numbers of eosinophilic granulocytes within the exudate, and the
larger air canillaries were partially open. On the twenty-first,
twenty-seventh, and thirty-first day following single exposure,
the lungs became progressively more nearly normal. Some areas
containing exudate including eosinophilic granulocytes still ex¬
isted, however, and although many of the smaller air spaces were
open some large areas of lymphoid tissue remained as shown in
Figure 3. By the thirty-sixth day after exposure the lungs were
normal with the exception of a few places containing exudate.
Nodules were present in all but pheasant 18, after the infec¬
tions were 17 days or older. Those nodules in nheasants examined
17 days after exposure were small but visible on the mucosa of
the trachea. In pheasants examined after that time the nodules
were visible on the mucosal and serosal surfaces of the tracheae
but the predominate part of the nodule was on the serosa. The
heads of the male worms were found to proiect several milli¬
meters into them. Histological sections of tracheae showed that
on the thirteenth day after infection the head of the male worm
pressed against the inside of the tracheal cartilage and was
embedded in lymphocytes. At this time the perichondrium in the
region of the buccal capsule had disintegrated, and the cartilage
had an indented ring on it (Figure 6). The tracheal epithelium
had undergone metaplasia from its normal pseudostratified
glandular type to a stratified squamous type of epithelium in the
region of the nodule. Not only was the area around the head of
the male infiltrated with lymphocytes, but the whole trachea had
lymphocytes in the mucosa. As yet there was no areolar connec¬
tive tissue, no eosinophilic granulocytes, nor any inflammation
on the outside of the trachea. Characteristics observed in sections
of a nodule with the head of a male gapeworm from a 44-dav old
infection showed characteristics similar to those described in
Experiment 1, 21 days after exposure, but this nodule was filled
with eosinophilic granulocytes and was purulant. Proliferation
of cartilage was evident around the openings through the
tracheal cartilage made by the male worms. Zones of necrotic
acidophilic tissue surrounded the heads of the male gapeworms
and also was found in the buccal capsules of the males. Sections
showed that though the head of the female worm was never
embedded in the trachea, the mucosa of the trachea was found
extending into the buccal capsule and the epithelial lining of the
trachea in that area was absent.
32 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
m
'jm?m wm
vj
Pi
\y
;.
‘ ■ ... I
PLATE I
Figure 1. A portion of pheasant lung showing exudate and
inflammatory products eight days after infection with gape-
1954] Guilford & Herrick — Gapeworm Disease in Pheasants 33
Figure 2. A portion of pheasant lung showing the head of a
gapeworm in a parabronchus eight days after infection.
34 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
Figure 3. A portion of pheasant lung with an enlarged area
of lymphoid tissue 27 days after infection with gapeworms.
1954] Guilford & Herrick — Gapeworm Disease in Pheasants 35
Figure 4. A portion of lung showing a caseous cyst with an
entrapped larva from a pheasant with three infections five,
14, and 23 days old.
36 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
PLATE II
Figure 5. A portion of lung showing an old hemorrhage in a
parabronchus from a pheasant with two infections 11 and 48
days old.
1954] Guilford & Herrick — Gapeworm Disease in Pheasants 37
Figure 6. A portion of trachea showing the head of a male
gapeworm penetrating a tracheal cartilage 13 days after
infection.
38 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
Figure 7. A section of trachea showing part of a male gapeworm 22 days :
after infection. Note that the male has penetrated through to the outside of
the trachea.
i
1954] Guilford & Herrick — Gapeivorm Disease in Pheasants 39
Experiment 3. This experiment was performed to get data on
the migration of the third-stage larvae from the time of exposure
until they entered the lung. Two parasite-free pheasants, 45 days
old, were used. Pheasant 1 was exposed to two inoculations each
of 750 gapeworm eggs and larvae, the exposures being given
three hours apart. This pheasant was autopsied when the infec¬
tions were two and five hours old respectively. No larvae were
found in portions of heart, liver, and lung of this pheasant.
Pheasant 2 was given three exposures each with 750 gapeworm
eggs and larvae at six-hour intervals. This pheasant was autop¬
sied when infections were 12, 18, and 24 hours old, respectively.
Motile third-stage larvae were found in teased liver, heart, and
lungs from this bird.
Experiment 4. The fact that two distinct sizes of gapeworms
were found in the trachea of many naturally infected pheasants
taken from rearing pens, indicated that these pheasants had been
infected more than once. The males of the larger pairs of worms
were embedded in well-developed nodules and the females were
producing eggs while the males of the smaller pairs were not
embedded and the females were not producing eggs. It seems
evident therefore that the smaller worms were younger and that
pheasants may harbor gapeworms from two separate infections.
This experiment was performed to obtain data on double and
triple infections. It was divided into three parts. In the first part
each of five parasite-free pheasants, numbers 1 to 5, 35 days of
age, was exposed to a mixture of approximately 200 gapeworm
eggs and larvae. On the ninth day after the first exposure they
were re-exposed to a second mixture of approximately 200 gape¬
worm eggs and larvae. They were sacrificed and examined at
various intervals after the second exposure as indicated in Table
3. From the sizes of the worms present at autopsy it was con¬
cluded that in all cases gapeworms developed as a result of the
second exposure. In no case were the lesions resulting from the
two infections more serious than those produced by an equal
number of worms resulting from a single infection. In the second
part of this experiment, each of five parasite-free pheasants,
numbers 6 to 10, 35 days old, was exposed to a mixture of
approximately 200 gapeworm eggs and larvae; then, nine days
later they were exposed to approximately 200 gapeworm eggs
and larvae. Nine days after this second exposure each was again
given approximately 200 gapeworm eggs and larvae as a third
exposure. The results on Table 3 show that the pheasants with
three exposures all appeared to have worms from the second
exposure. The third exposure manifested itself only as fourth-
stage larvae in the lung of pheasant 7 and as a small pair of
TABLE 3
Data on the Reinfection of Pheasants with Gapeworms (Experiment 4)
40
Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
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Data on the Reinfection of Pheasants with Gapeworms (Experiment 4)
1954] Guilford & Herrick— Gap ew or m Disease in Pheasants 41
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42 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
gapeworms in the trachea of pheasant 10. The initial infection
was present in pheasants 6, 7, and 8, examined 21, 23, and 28
days after exposure respectively, but it was apparently expelled
before the thirty-second day, since it was not present in pheas¬
ants 9 and 10 which were examined when the initial infection
was 32 days old. Sections of lung from pheasant 7 with infec¬
tions five, 14, and 23 days old showed exudative areas with large
numbers of eosinophilic granulocytes and lymphocytes in the air
capillaries. In an area of inflammatory products and in the cavity
of a parabronchus, there was a caseous cyst containing a degen¬
erated larva from the first or second exposure (Figure 4).
In the third part of Experiment 4, each of 7-parasite-free
pheasants, numbers 11 to 17, 35 days old, was exposed to a mix¬
ture of approximately 200 gapeworm eggs and larvae. Eighteen
days later they were re-exposed to a second mixture of approxi¬
mately 200 gapeworm eggs and larvae. These pheasants were
autopsied at the intervals shown on Table 3. The results show
that a second infection developed as in pheasants 13 and 14.
Pheasant 14 examined when the first infection was 32 days old,
had four nodules in the trachea but only one pair of worms from
this exposure, indicating that the greater proportion of worms
was lost before this time. The second infection which was 14
days old at this time, was represented by three worms with two
large nodules associated with them. These large nodules were
thought to be indicative of an increased response by the host
because of a previous infection for in single infections nodules
did not become visible until the fifteenth to eighteenth day after
exposure. No worms were found in pheasants 15, 16, or 17, which
were examined 38 days after the first exposure and 20 days after
the second. However, each of these birds had nodules in the
trachea indicating that worms from at least one if not both
exposures had established themselves, and that the worms had
been expelled from the trachea earlier than they would have been
if the pheasants had had only single exposure. The lung of
pheasant 11 was sectioned and showed exudative changes with
large numbers of eosinophilic granulocytes in the smaller air
spaces and enlarged collections of lymphoid tissue. The appear¬
ance of this lung was similar to the appearance of those in repair
previously described in Experiment 2. These changes were pre¬
sumably from first exposure since the second exposure was only
three days old at the time of autopsy. The 48-day old pheasant
(No. 18 Table 3) which was given 200 eggs and larvae from the
same culture and at the same time as pheasants 6-17 to test the
viability of the eggs, harbored 13 pairs of gapeworms 20 days
after exposure.
1954] Guilford & Herrick — Gapeworm Disease in Pheasants 43
Experiment 5. The preceding experiment in which the second
exposure was given nine or 18 days after the initial exposure
showed that double infections occurred in pheasants. This experi¬
ment was performed to see if a second infection derived from a
moderate number of eggs and larvae in a second exposure would
develop in pheasants that already had comparatively old infec¬
tions. Two of four parasite-free pheasants, (1 and 2) three
weeks old, were exposed to a mixture of approximately 200 gape-
worm eggs and larvae. Thirty-seven days later each was given a
second exposure to 200 gapeworm eggs and larvae. At this time
one large female gapeworm could be seen near the glottis in one
of the pheasants but the other appeared to have lost its infection.
The two previously uninfected pheasants, 3 and 4, 57 days old,
were exposed to a mixture of approximately 200 gapeworm eggs
and larvae from the same culture and at the same time the
second exposures were given to pheasants 1 and 2. All pheasants
were examined 11 days after the last exposure.
When pheasant 1 was examined 48 days after the first and 11
days after the second exposure, no gapeworms were present in
the trachea, but six nodules from the first infection were
present; the lungs showed a severe verminous pneumonia. Sec¬
tions of this lung showed encapsulated hemorrhages with
necrotic centers, and an extreme inflammation evidenced by
exudative areas with large numbers of lymphocytes and eosino¬
philic granulocytes (Figure 5) . Almost every atrium and its sub¬
divisions in the midregion of the lungs were filled with inflam¬
matory products. These conditions were evidently caused by an
infection from the second exposure since the changes in the lung
brought about by the first exposure should have been repaired
by this time. There were no small gapeworms in the trachea,
thus it was concluded that gapeworms from the second exposure
apparently had reached the lung but had failed to establish them¬
selves in the trachea. Pheasant 2 was examined also when the
first exposure was 48 days old and the second exposure was 11
days old. Five pairs of gapeworms were present in the bronchi ;
the female worms measured 7 to 8 mm. in length. This was the
only case in all of the naturally or experimentally infected
pheasants that were examined where paired gapeworms had
established themselves in the bronchi. Six nodules were present
in the trachea, presumably from the first infection. One dead
pair of gapeworms was associated with one of these nodules and
one dead male was associated with another. Four nodules were
vacant. A severe verminous pneumonia was present and small
white nodules were found throughout the lung. Pheasants 3 and
4 were examined when their infections were 11 days old. They
44 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
had 35 and 46 pairs of gapeworms, respectively; the females in
the trachea measured 8 to 9 mm. in length. These data indicated
that pheasants were difficult to infect 37 days after a small
preceding infection.
Discussion
The times required for early stages of gapeworms to appear in
the lungs of pheasants were similar to those found by other
authors for them to appear in chickens. Ortlepp (1923) found
infective larvae in chickens in the air sacs near the duodenum,
under the mucosa of the esophagus, and in the alveolae of the
lungs 24 hours after exposure to gapeworms. Third-stage larvae
were found in the lungs and liver of a chick having 18-, 21-, and
24-hour infections by Wehr (1937a). Experiment 3 of the
present investigation was similar to Wehr’s experiment and
showed similar results in pheasants. Wehr’s experiment indi¬
cated that the third-stage larvae migrated from the digestive
tract through the blood stream, and Experiment 3 of this work
substantiates his conclusion but as Wehr has pointed out how¬
ever, the early migration of gapeworm larvae has not been com¬
pletely determined. In this investigation third-stage larvae were
found in the lungs of pheasants 24 hours to four days after expo¬
sure. Fourth-stage larvae were found in the lung five days after
exposure while small paired gapeworms were found six, seven,
and eight days after exposure. Nine days after exposure gape¬
worms were found in the trachea. Wehr found fourth-stage
larvae in chicks three and seven days after the initial exposure
and believed the final stage gapeworms paired between the third
and seventh days after exposure. Ortlepp found copulating
worms in the lung on the fifth day after infection. Such pairs
were found at this time in pheasants.
Apparently chickens suffer little if any, from the migration of
gapeworm larvae through the lung. Morgan and Clapham (1934)
noted hemorrhagic spots with larvae in the lung of one chicken
which died from gapeworm disease on the fifth day after expo¬
sure. Ortlepp (1923) found no abnormal changes in the lungs of
chickens even in sections in which the larval stages were found.
Other writers do not mention changes. Autopsies and sections of
lung from naturally and experimentally infected pheasants in
this work showed that there was a verminous pneumonia present
in most infected pheasants. Pheasants with experimental infec¬
tions from six to 14 days old showed a pneumonia that was evi¬
dent by gross examination. Some pheasants with two- to five-day
old infections and some with 14- to 21-day old infections also
showed a pneumonia grossly. For the most part pneumonic
1954] Guilford & Herrick— Gap eworm Disease in Pheasants 45
lesions were evident on the dorsal side of the lung. Some pheas¬
ants had hemorrhagic areas of a dark brown color. The lungs of
many pheasants of these experiments and of naturally infected
pheasants had a hyperemia which gave the whole dorsal surface
of the lung a uniform cloudy purple color, but had no hemor¬
rhagic spots such as those mentioned above. White, cloudy areas
appeared on the dorsal portions of the lungs in many pheasants
as the infection aged. The dorsal surfaces of the lungs of still
other pheasants were of a uniform, dark, brownish-purple color.
Pheasants with older infections commonly had white areas in
association with small dark petechiae on the dorsal surface of
the lungs, and some infected pheasants had dark colored lungs
with small white areas 1 to 2 mm. in size scattered over the
dorsal side. These are more or less typical appearances of vermi¬
nous pneumonias in early and late stages caused by other para¬
sitic worms and as is found in Ascaris infections. The caseous
cyst described in Experiment 4 was similar in all respects except
in size to the cysts described by Schwartz and Alicata (1932) in
which Ascaris lumbricoides larvae were trapped in their migra¬
tion through the lung.
Every pheasant of Experiments 1, 2, and 4 examined nine or
more days after exposure had gapeworms in the trachea or evi¬
dence in the form of nodules, that gapeworms had been in the
trachea. Nine days after exposure active pairs of gapeworms
were dispersed from the bronchi to the glottis. None of these
were attached to the trachea and the majority were near the
glottis in pheasant 12 of Experiment 2. Similar conditions were
observed in naturally infected pheasants when the worms were
small and active. It was assumed from the activity and numbers
of worms of this size and age in these pheasants, that many
worms were lost before they could establish themselves in the
trachea. On the ninth day after exposure the female worms were
immature and measured 6 mm. in length; they became progres¬
sively larger as the infection aged and their rate of growth
appeared to be relatively constant. The largest female gapeworm
observed, 34 mm. in length, was found in a 48-day infection.
Graph 1 shows the relationship of size to age of female gape¬
worms collected from Experiments 1, 2, 4, and 5.
Morgan and Clapham (1934) found small paired gapeworms
in the trachea nine days after infection, and Wehr (1937a)
found paired gapeworms in one chicken seven days after infec¬
tion and in another chicken nine days after infection. Ortlepp
(1923) also found worms in the trachea of chickens seven days
after infection, while Megnin (1881) assumed that seven days
after infection there were worms in the trachea of pheasants.
SIZES OF FEMALE GAPEWORM5
46 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
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THE COURSE OF GAPEWORM DISEASE
1954] Guilford & Herrick — Gapeworm Disease in Pheasants 47
DAYS AFTER INFECTION
Graph 1. The relationship of the size of female gapeworms in relation to age and a summary of the course of gapeworm
disease in pheasants compiled from information in Experiments 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5.
48 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
It would appear from experiments conducted on the game farm
that gapeworms appeared in the trachea of pheasants on the
ninth day after infection but not before.
Egg production in the worms apparently began between the
fifteenth and sixteenth days after infection. All female worms
taken from the tracheae of pheasants with 16-day or older infec¬
tions had eggs in the eight-cell stage in the uteri. Ortlepp (1923)
believed that gapeworms attained sexual maturity 10 to 14 days
after infection, but believed the first eggs that the worm passed
were abnormal and that in chickens the worms produced normal
eggs 17 to 20 days after infection. In this work it would appear
that gapeworms in pheasants were more consistent in the time
that they produced eggs for no normal or abnormal eggs were
found prior to 15 days after exposure. The female worms appar¬
ently remained gravid until they were expelled from the trachea.
The oldest living pair of gapeworms found in an experimental
pheasant was in a bird that retained its infection for 48 days.
Either dead gapeworms were found in the trachea from the
twenty-seventh to forty-seventh day after exposure or after 27
days there were more nodules than there were pairs of worms,
indicating that the pheasants lost worms as the infection prog¬
ressed beyond 27 days. The older the infection the more nodules
there were in proportion to the worms in the trachea. Morgan
and Clapham (1935) found no gapeworm eggs in pheasants after
nine weeks of infection. Although Clapham (1935) reported a
pheasant retaining gapeworms for over a year, she did not pre¬
sent evidence to show that the pheasant had not acquired a later
infection. Olivier (1944) found that pheasants lost most of their
gapeworms by 41 days after infection. Although different species
of birds retain gapeworms for varying lengths of time, from our
observations on experimental pheasants, on pheasants raised
under normal conditions, and from the works of Olivier and of
Morgan and Clapham, it would be safe to conclude that by far
the greatest proportion of gapeworms are gone from the trachea
by the forty-eighth day after exposure. Since the female gape¬
worms produced eggs from the sixteenth day after exposure
until the time they were expelled from the trachea 27 to 48 days
after exposure, the infected pheasant was potentially dangerous
as a contaminator.
The trachea of experimentally and naturally infected pheas¬
ants revealed that when the gapeworms were of large size
nodules were present around the heads of the male worms. These
nodules were grossly similar to those described by Clapham
(1935) except that they were white instead of red, and the
greater proportion of each nodule was on the serosa of the
1954] Guilford & Herrick — Gapeworm Disease in Pheasants 49
trachea instead of on the inside. There was little blockage of the
trachea from nodules. Microscopic examination of nodules
showed them to be of a lymphoid character and revealed definite
dissolution of cartilage mentioned by Wehr and by Clapham.
However, our sections did not show the giant cells, caseation
necrosis, nor areolar connective tissue cutting off the nodule as
described by Clapham. A cartilage proliferation in rings was
evident around the openings through the tracheal cartilage made
by the male worms. These rings remained after both the inflam¬
mation and the nodules disappeared and thus could be used as
evidence of former infections in pheasants long after the worms
had been expelled from the trachea. Many naturally infected
pheasants which were autopsied in the winter had these rings as
evidence of former infections.
Olivier (1943) showed that an acquired immunity developed
in pheasants following their infection with large numbers of
gapeworm eggs. Olivier fed 8,000 gapeworm eggs and larvae to
each of 50 pheasants 38 days old. Seventeen of these survived
the infection and each was fed 5,300 eggs and larvae 41 days
after the first infection, when the latter was presumably gone.
After 13 days his control birds averaged 94 pairs of worms while
the reinfected pheasants averaged 0.7 worms per bird from the
second infection. An acquired immunity appeared to be present
in the two pheasants that were infected with 200 gapeworm eggs
and larvae in Experiment 5 of this work. Though only two
pheasants were used in our experiment it seemed to indicate that
such extreme numbers of eggs and larvae used by Olivier were
unnecessary in order to produce an immunity in pheasants, since
even moderate numbers apparently gave some immunity in a
period of 37 days. Even though double infections were acquired
by pheasants which had been given exposures nine and 18 days
apart, there is evidence in Experiment 4 that an 18 day period
was sufficient for enough immunity to develop that the first in¬
fection was lost before the thirty-eighth day and the second in¬
fection was lost before the twentieth day after exposure. Pheas¬
ants with three exposures to approximately 200 gapeworm eggs
and larvae, given nine days apart demonstrated that the third
infection had difficulty in establishing itself since it manifested
itself as only a fourth-stage larva in the lung of one pheasant
and as one small pair of gapeworms in the trachea of another.
Graph 1 indicates the location of the gapeworms at different
periods of time after exposure, the times at which eggs were
found in the eight-cell stage, when the pheasant had a verminous
pneumonia and when nodules were present in the trachea.
50 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
Summary
1. The periods of time that the early stages of the gapeworms
appeared in pheasants were similar to those in chickens.
2. The gapeworms matured and produced eggs in the eight-cell
stage between the fifteenth and sixteenth day after exposure.
3. From the twenty-seventh to the forty-eighth day after in¬
fection there was a gradual decrease in the number of worms in
the trachea.
4. A verminous pneumonia developed soon after gapeworm
larvae were found in the lung and was still in evidence four to
five weeks after exposure.
5. The male gapeworms penetrated the tracheal cartilage and
were found partially embedded in a nodule on the outside of the
tracheae as early as two or three weeks after exposure.
6. Pheasants acquired more than one infection.
7. A resistance developed to a second infection 37 days after
an initial exposure, and worms were lost prematurely in double
infections given 18 days apart.
References Cited
Clapham, P. A. 1935. On nodules occasioned by gapeworms in pheasants.
Jour. Helminthol. 13:9-12.
Morgan, D. 0., and P. A. Clapham. 1934. Some observations on gapeworms
in poultry and game birds. Jour. Helminthol. 12:63-70.
Olivier, L. 1944. Acquired resistance in chickens, turkeys, and ring-necked
pheasants to the gapeworm, Syngamus trachea. Jour. Parasitol. 30:
64-76.
Ortlepp, R, J. 1923. The life cycle of Syngamus trachealis (Montague)
V. Siebold, the gapeworms of chickens. Jour. Helminthol. 1:119-140.
Schwartz, B., and J. E. Alicata. 1932. Ascaris larvae as a cause of liver
and lung lesions in swine. Jour. Parasitol. 19:17-24.
Smith, T. 1884. Translation of “Memoir on a verminous epizootic disease
of the pheasant and on the parasite which causes it, the Syngamus
trachealis (Sieb), Solerostoma syngamus (Dies).” by M. P. Megnin.
U. S. D. A. Rept., pp. 269-284.
Wehr, E. E. 1937a. Observations on the development of the poultry gape¬
worm Syngamus trachea. Am. Micro. Soc. 56:72-76.
- . 1937b. A note on the incidence of Syngamus trachea in turkeys,
with observations on nodules caused by this parasite. Poultry Sci.
16:331.
GEORGE BANCROFT ON MAN AND HISTORY
John W. Rathbun
George Bancroft did more than span the nineteenth century.
He was the champion of its ideas and ideals, crowned with its
smile of fortune. Born in 1800, he was reared in a theological
atmosphere seeking to retain the best of the Enlightenment while
ridding itself of the supposed excesses. He participated in, may
in fact have helped to form, the liberal movement of the mid¬
century. Then by the simple process of standing still, he became
a conservative amidst the increasing complexities of life near
the century’s close. Being what he preached, he provides an
admirable “case history” of how a man may both think as he
lives and live as he thinks.
In determining the constituent parts of Bancroft’s thought I
have divided the study into three major divisions: there is first
of all his concept of human nature, pre-formed in the Bancroft
household and his Harvard years but made structurally sound by
experience and the attrition of new ideas p secondly, there is his
religious belief, moulded by a New England background and
given extension by German theology, particularly that of Schlei-
ermacher ; and finally, there is his philosophy of history, logical
only in terms of the two divisions preceding. From out of these
three major divisions emerges Bancroft the philosopher, the
theologian, the interpreter of history to a sympathetic nine¬
teenth-century audience.1 2
I. Human Nature
In his conception of human nature, Bancroft believed that
character was relative to circumstances. The Enlightenment had
emphasized the idea that man is the product of his environment.
The early nineteenth century, influenced probably by the idealist
schools of philosophy which Descartes had engendered and by
the work of such men as Jacob Fries, admitted the efficacy of
environment but emphasized heredity also. Heredity seemed to
explain the philosophical belief in innate ideas. Bancroft was
undoubtedly introduced to such ideas through his reading of
1 For the development of Bancroft’s mind and art see Russel Nye’s excellent
biography George Bancroft, Brahmin Rebel (New York, 1944).
2 Within Bancroft’s lifetime his early volumes went through over twenty-five
editions — some of which were merely reprintings.
51
52 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
Mme de Stael’s De V Allemagne while at Harvard.3 But the real
influence came with his years at Gottingen, when he plunged into
Biblical Criticism.4 In his first year he studied Ethnography
under Heeren and Old and New Testament exegesis under Eich-
horn,5 besides enrolling in the usual language courses. Within the
bounds of New England conservatism, Bancroft was enthusiastic
with his biblical studies. German theological works, he wrote
Andrews Norton, were “far, very far before all the rest of
Christiandom in learning, but not in piety nor in talent.”6 Ban¬
croft soon recognized that no great rewards were to be expected
from teaching such a rarified discipline in America, but he felt
that the establishing of “a thorough school of Theological
Critics” would carry its own reward, not measurable in terms of
fame or money.
Rumors that German biblical criticism lost in spirituality
what it gained in historicism filtered back to New England.7 But
to the on-the-scene Bancroft, it was an exciting pastime. Later,
when he returned to America and began popularizing German
study, it is significant that he chose Herder as the subject for one
of his earliest articles. “The influence of Herder on his age,”
Bancroft wrote, “was wide, and entirely beneficial to the best
interests of our race ; he has been extensively read and admired,
and always with results beneficial to morals and sentiments of
philanthropy.”8 Herder's view that Scripture was not written by
3 See Bancroft’s later review of Henry Dwight’s Travels in the North of Ger¬
many, American Quarterly Review, VI (1829), 189-216, for a laudatory description
of Mme de Stael. By this time he was confirmed in his belief in the uniqueness of
cultural and individual life caused by environmental and hereditary factors. He
describes De V Allemagne as “elaborate” and “excellent” and says that “Everything
which she heard, received a livelier character, as it passed through her mind ; the
trials which she had herself encountered, but never fully sustained, fitted her to
vinderstand the deep character of the German nations . . .” (p. 191).
4 Bancroft was expected to study Divinity at Gottingen. President Kirkland wrote
Professor Eichhorn that Bancroft should especially study philology, ancient lan¬
guages and oriental literature in order to become “an accomplished philologian and
biblical critic.” Mark Antony De Wolfe Howe, The Life and Letters of George
Bancroft (New York, 1908), I, p. 38.
5 Ibid., I, p. 58. Through Eichhorn, Bancroft would have been introduced to the
whole of German biblical study. He specifically mentions Schleusner. Since Johann
Gottfried Herder was commonly acknowledged to be one of the great founders of
the new discipline, his name was probably prominent in course discussion. This is
later borne out by Bancroft’s essay on Herder, in which he reveals a more than
adequate knowledge of the German’s philosophy.
eIbid., I, p. 64.
7 Bancroft soon found it necessary to allay the fears of his New England patrons.
In January, 1819, he wrote President Kirkland: “I add one word about German
Theology. I have nothing to do with it, except so far as it is merely critical ....
I trust I have been too long under your eye, and too long a member of the Theo¬
logical Institution under your inspection to be in danger of being led away from
the religion of my Fathers.” Ibid., I, p. 55. Bancroft was later more liberal and
ventured to suggest “That Christianity has nothing to fear from investigation ; . . .
Germany is the centre and main support of protestantism on the continent.” “Men
of Science and Learning,” Literary and Historical Miscellanies (New York, 1857),
p. 166. Referred to hereinafter as Miscellanies.
8 “Herder’s Works,” North American Review, XX (1825), 144. On Herder, see
J. Mace Andress, Johann Gottfried Herder as an Educator (New York, 1916) ;
1954]
Rathbun — George Bancroft
53
“inspired oracles” was perhaps in bad taste, but, Bancroft
hastened to add, “religion does not suffer from freedom of
inquiry.”9 It was more important to note that Herder had been
among the first to recognize the great truth that “the elevating
feelings and faith,” which link men with God, “appear under the
most various forms, and are modified by the different circum¬
stances of times and countries, by national character, and the
diversity in the intellectual habits of all reasoning men.”19
To turn the pages of Herder's work was like “walking in a
botanical garden” where one could find faithfully and truthfully
rendered the spirit and substance of other cultures and other
days.* 11 Herder, among others, had taught Bancroft that “A great
poet is the mirror of his time, just as a great philosopher is the
exponent of its general culture.”12 Far from man making his
culture, it was culture that made the man. And thus it was, said
Bancroft, that “National literature varies with national char¬
acter. It represents the aspect under which the world is con¬
templated, and shows the coloring imparted by climate, govern¬
ment, and society.”13
The idea obtained is reflected throughout Bancroft's writings.
Ideas, institutions, laws : all are “appropriate” to the “condition
of the people.”14 “Neither philosophy, nor government, nor politi-
F. McEachran, The Life and Philosophy of Johann Gottfried Herder (Oxford.
1939) ; Henry Nevinson, A Sketch of Herder and His Times (London, 1884) ; and
Arthur Lovejoy, “Herder and the Enlightenment Philosophy of History,’’ Essays
in the History of Ideas (Baltimore, 1948). Andress calls Herder the “founder of
the genetic method of study.” “He established the principles of the genetic method
of study long before Charles Darwin appeared on the scene. Not only were these
principles advanced but they were put into practice by Herder himself and others
who came under his influence. Such a method, coupled with a wonderful breadth
of human knowledge and an unusual capacity for work make Herder a pioneer in
modern scholarship, and even a founder of many studies. There was scarcely a
subject in the vast field of culture from theology, literature, history, anthropology,
art, philosophy, to education that he did not anticipate or stimulate. He was one
of the world’s greatest pathfinders.” (p. 9).
9 Ibid., p. 143.
10 Ibid. Herder had many accomplishments and failings with which Bancroft could
sympathize. Bancroft’s celebration of “variety of attainments,” industry, and pure
morality found confirmation in Herder, and Bancroft, just then suffering from the
failure of his Poems, could sympathize with a man of poetic nature who yet lacked
“the highest qualifications of the poet.” Too, Herder had been the first to vindicate
“for the songs of the people their place in the annals of human culture” and had
sympathized with the American revolutionaries.
11 Ibid., p. 139. Bancroft’s dislike for Goethe, an outgrowth of his moral outlook,
was rationalized by saying that Goethe failed to reflect the people truthfully. “. . .
Goethe, is the poet, who represents the morals, the politics, the imagination, the
character, of a broken-down aristocracy, that hovered on the skirts of defeated
dynasties, and gathered as a body-guard round the bier of legitimacy.” Miscellanies,
p. 200.
12 Miscellanies, p. 198.
13 Ibid., p. 102.
14 History of the United States . . . (Boston, 1864), II, p. 145. The passage is
repeated in the Author’s Last Revision (New York, 1883), I, 416. In the body of
the paper, quotations from the History of the United States . . . are compared with
similar passages in the Author’s Last Revision, and will be referred to respectively
as History and ALR. Citations from the History will give the edition and date as
well as the volume and page number.
54 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
cal institutions, nor religious knowledge, can remain much
behind, or go much in advance, of the totality of contemporary
intelligence.”15 History is a long continuity of cause and effect,
each “spirit of the age” unique in itself and yet growing out of
preceding ages.16 A people cannot rise above its acquisitions;
each state in which man finds himself is his “natural state at this
moment,” but change brings added acquisitions and these in turn
mark off a new “natural state.”17 Time cannot be compartmen¬
talized, for time is a vast flowing and flowering out of the past
and into the future. Present opinion is the product of past
opinion and both together make the opinion of the future. The
resulting diversity “gives relief to the production of each nation”
and extends to the world a rich heritage which would be lacking
in pale uniformity.
Bancroft’s mind was always alive to the intellectual world
about him. Herder had been one of the first to conceive of cul¬
ture as a totality of organic relationships. This undoubtedly
influenced Bancroft. But when Bancroft was in Germany the
concept of organicism literally permeated the intellectual atmos¬
phere, receiving its most extreme form in Hegel’s thought.18 In
point of time, Bancroft was among the first Americans to receive
the new doctrine. After stating that the “present is always the
lineal descendant of the past,” it was no metaphorical accident
that he should continue: “A new form of political life never
appears but as a growth out of its antecedents, just as in nature
there is no animal life without a seed or a spore. In civil affairs,
as much as in husbandry, seed-time goes before the harvest, and
the harvest may be seen in the seed, the seed in the harvest.”19
15 Miscellanies, p. 485. Thus it was that Bancroft believed that a nation’s litera¬
ture “commends itself to the attention of enlightened curiosity, even independently
of its intrinsic merits, from the knowledge it sheds on the nature of man.” Mis¬
cellanies, p. 104. In a letter to Jared Sparks, proposing an essay on Italy, Bancroft
says he would show how the “physical characteristics” of the sections “influence”
division and decide “the character of each part” and how “the spirit of Catholi¬
cism” influences manners and “religious sentiments and public display.” J. S. Bas¬
sett, “The Correspondence of George Bancroft and Jared Sparks 1831-1832,”
Smith < College Studies in History, II (Jan. 1917), 101. And he once wrote his wife
(1842) apropos another volume of the History: “I have made some collections of
considerable value, but have gained more by striking the veins of tradition, and
hearing anecdotes revived, that lets me get glimpses into the parties and malignant
spirit of old times.” Howe, I, 240.
16 Consequently Bancroft believed that nations should change “their institutions
but slowly.” “. . . a man can as little move without the weight of the superincum¬
bent atmosphere as escape altogether the opinions of the age in which he sees the
light.” History, IX (1st ed., 1866), 501; ALR, V, 257.
17 Miscellanies, p. 485.
18 Bancroft studied for a time under Hegel but was completely incapable of mak¬
ing sense of the lectures. In a very general sense some of Bancroft’s comments
seem Hegelian. It is probably true that Bancroft utilized some of the popularly
known Hegelian doctrines, such as the triadic scheme, but there was no conscious
adherence to Hegel’s philosophy.
19 History, IX (1st ed., 1866), 436; ALR, V, 199. Bancroft’s ideas of continuity
and organicism were almost surely supplemented by Charles Lyell’s Principles of
1954]
Rathbun — George Bancroft
55
Organicism was actually the basis for Bancroft’s idea of cul¬
tural relativism. All things in a culture made for “reciprocal
action, advancing, receding, crossing, struggling against each
other and with each other.”20 States and nations “resembled
living plants, ’’suffused with “inward energies” realizing them¬
selves through growth.21 An “indwelling necessity,” formed by
the ramifications of culture, determined new phases of living;22
“organic laws” introduced to reality greater ideals.23 In this light
the American Revolution became explicable, for the “vigorous
vitality” of the American people had “refused conformity to
foreign laws and external rule. They could take no other way to
perfection than by the unconstrained development of that which
was within them.”24 Not the wisdom of individuals but the
“growth of necessity” made for the slow and gradual develop¬
ment of the American institutions.25 Within society lay all the
seeds for growth. “Society,” said Bancroft, “is many and is one ;
and the organic unity of the state is to be reconciled with the
separate existence of each of its members.”26 Following Kant,
he held that there was both the drive to despotism and the drive
to anarchy in society, mediated by a third power which strove to
conciliate the two. All were necessary to the essential well-being
Geology (first published 1830-33). In his essay on the progress of man (1854)
Bancroft says that the geologist “has perused the rocky tablets on which time-
honored nature has set her inscriptions. He has opened the massive sepulchres of
departed forms of being, and pored over the copious records preserved there in
stone, till they have revealed the majestic march of creative power, from the
organism of the zoophyte entombed in the lowest depths of Siluria, through all the
rising gradations of animal life . . .” Miscellanies , p. 498. But while admitting
organic evolution, Bancroft was with Agassiz and Cuvier that man was specially
created and a distinct species.
^ History, ALR, VI, 443.
History, IV (18th ed., 1864), 55 ; ALR, II, 351. In a footnote to the 18th edition
Bancroft cites “Bacon de Augmentis Scientiarum. Lib. vii, cap. ii . . Cf. also
Bancroft’s statement that “Human nature is forever identical with itself ; and the
state ever contains in its own composition all the opposite tendencies which con¬
stitute parties . . . and it will be found, that as every class of vertebrate animals
has the forms of the same organs, so an exact generalization establishes the exist¬
ence of every element of civil polity, and of the rudiments of all its possible vari¬
eties and divisions in every stage of human being.” History, VIII (3rd ed., 1864),
118 ; not in ALR.
22 History, ALR, VI, 90.
23 History, IX (1st ed., 1866), 502-503; ALR, V, 258.
24 History, VII (7th ed., 1864), 23; ALR, IV, 4. Cf. Bancroft’s statement that the
Declaration of Independence was a development out of the people and the time,
and his statement that the greatest jurists “have perceived that law itself is neces¬
sarily moulded and developed from its inward nature.” History, VIII (3rd ed.,
1864), 248 ; not in ALR.
25 History, VII (7th ed., 1864), 354; ALR, IV, 191. Bancroft continued: “The
American constitution came from the whole people, and expresses a community of
its thought and will. The nation proceeded not after the manner of inventors of
mechanisms, but like the divine architect ; its work is self-made ; and is neither a
copy of any thing past, nor a product of external force, but an unfolding of its own
internal nature.”
23 History, VIII (3rd ed., 1864), 118-119; not in ALR.
56 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
of society, but any one out of alignment contributed to destruc¬
tion.27
In his “Doctrine of Temperament”28 Bancroft first developed
the place of heredity in the human scheme. Between environment
and heredity, human nature at any one time was fairly well fixed.
Bancroft rests his case on the findings of contemporary physi¬
ologists. At birth the infant is already possessed of various traits
which will set it off from others and also identify it with groups.
“It has its passions, its desires, its propensities ; and not only its
physical organization is decided, but also the complexion of its
character.”29 There are of course the conditioning roles of educa¬
tion and environment but in the main the limits are set: “The
features of the mind, as of the face, are fixed beyond the possi¬
bility of change.”30 The infant has certain advantages, certain
deficiencies, certain faults, which will continue with him through¬
out life.
After passing over the “universal division” of sex which
“renders a diversity of moral character inevitable,”31 Bancroft
lists five sources of physiological differences: racial, national,
family, individual, and differences of the age. Temperaments
themselves, which he claims hold “a conspicuous place in physi¬
ological science,”32 are somewhat analagous to the old idea of
humours. In all there are seven temperaments,33 each one of
which can be utilized to characterize a particular individual. An
individual’s temperament is indelibly stamped on him ; it cannot
be changed. But with a certain degree of skepticism, Bancroft
admits that, just as the breeds of dogs have been improved over
generations, the physiologists in time may succeed in adjusting
the temperaments into a harmonious working relationship so
that “the most brilliant prospects [may be] opened for the ameli¬
oration of the human race, and the happiness, health, and virtue
of future generations.”34 Still, however, there would remain “an
infinite variety of character” induced by the influences of
“climate, age, regimen, and pursuits.”35
27 Ibid., pp. 119-120. Thus "every party has an honest origin in human nature and
the necessities of life in a community.” Kant’s ideas are expressed in his Idea of a
Universal History.
28 The essay is in the nature of a popular article, and he spends little time on any
one point. He cites no physiologist and adduces few results from scientific findings.
Blumenbach, physiologist at Gottingen while Bancroft was there, is the most
logical source for Bancroft’s ideas here.
29 Miscellanies, p. 2.
so Ibid.
31 Ibid.
32 Ibid., p. 7.
33 Sanguine, athletic, bilious, phlegmatic, melancholic, nervous, and the tempered
temperament (which Bancroft despairs of ever seeing-).
3 ± Miscellanies, p. 42.
wibid., p. 43.
1954]
Rathbun — George Bancroft
57
While one must admit that the differences of the age “are the
result of the state of society in its influence on the individuals
who compose it,” Bancroft insists that such differences are “in
some measure hereditary” and that their genetic characteristics
may be adduced by “analogies drawn from the whole animal cre¬
ation.”36 Individuals are diversified from one another by the
totality of traits which they receive as members of the age, race,
nation, family, and local conditioning factors. Certain elements
of “mind and tastes” can be related to the individual’s family;
for example, the “lineaments and constitution” may be inherited
from 'the father and the “temper” from the mother.37 On the
matter of race and nationality, Bancroft is ambiguous. He seems
to mark a division between the two, but it is no hard and fast
one and very often he tends to equate them. He assumes national
traits to be much more prevalent than one would think, predis¬
posing individuals to “certain habits and particular sentiments”
that may lead to rapacity or goodness. “It gives an aptitude for
acquiescing in certain forms of society and government, and a
facility for the acquisition and use of a particular language.”38
Thus the French are naturally cheerful, “having ideals, char¬
acter, courage, waywardness and inventions” of their own.39
Similarly, the Arabs, Tartars, Germans, Siamese, — all the
nations— have traits on a national scale which are uniquely their
own and serve to distinguish them from other nationalities.
On the grand plateau of race Bancroft was most at home.40
The race was “immortal,” whereas individuals were but
“shadows” incapable of extended reasoning and of shallow ex¬
perience. It was the race that had “a life and progress of its
own,” in its totality overruling the waywardness of the indi¬
vidual and by a sort of collective understanding pursuing almost
without error the standard of truth.41 The Anglo-Saxons, of
36 Ibid., p. 3.
37 Ibid., p. 5.
38 Ibid., p. 4. Bancroft continues : “the infant in the valley of the Euphrates in¬
herits, it may not be doubted, an aptness to learn the diffuse forms of its Oriental
language ; and on the borders of the Seine to prefer the dialect of Paris to the
deeper accents of the Germans. Though a man may have acquired a foreign lan¬
guage in his infancy, his thoughts were not destined by nature to flow in it ; and
perfect success in the use of words is obtained only in the mother tongue.” (p. 5)
This concept was later abandoned when Bancroft wrote his third volume of History
(1842) where he held that language was a product of the particular environment
of the individual.
39 Howe, op. cit., II, 86. Bancroft propounds a peculiarly Lamarckian doctrine
when he states that traits first adopted by the parent may be passed on to the
children. Animals, he says, “often show peculiar skill in matters, to which not they
but their parents, have been trained. The books of the naturalists furnish well-
attested examples of qualities thus inherited.” Miscellanies, p. 4. Such a concept of
rapid evolution was soon abandoned when his vision became more panoramic.
40 While he admits that the races have a common origin, he says that pragmati¬
cally considered there are differences in both “physical and moral characteristics.”
41 History, VI (13th ed., 1864), 168; ALR, III, 294.
58 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
course, above all others had benefited the world,42 for their col¬
lective mind, endowed by a temperament that never went to
extremes, cherished an “active instinct for personal freedom”
which expressed itself in a love for possession and legislative
power.43 And in America, where Bancroft seemed to think there
lay an incipient racism, the people, prompted by environmental
conditions, were becoming distinguished by a spirit of versa¬
tility, enterprise and invention which was becoming inherent.44
In addition to instinct peculiar to the individual, family,
nationality and race, there were instincts common to all man.45
Some were bad and some good. The bad could be transcended by
the “innate loves” which fostered themselves by seeking a
knowledge of the spirit of God. In spite of the fact that Bancroft
held that the “instincts of humanity are the same in every age”
and are fostered by environmental and hereditary factors, he
felt that the manifestation of these instincts could be controlled.
Instincts simply had to be “disciplined,” and this was done by
acknowledging the inward voice of God. In essence, all men were
equal. The Indian and the Negro had the same number of in¬
herent faculties as did the white. “The constitution of the human
mind varies only in details,” he wrote,46 echoing what he had
said earlier — that every man “in substance” was equal to every
other.47 This was the reason why Bancroft was so skeptical of
the hopes of the physiologists that they could so change man that
all his temperaments could be channeled in the direction of good¬
ness. No amount of breeding or changing of environment could
alter what made him man. Man was necessarily imperfect.
Bancroft did not entertain so low an opinion of man as did
Alexander Hamilton.48 But he was completely in sympathy with
John Adams in holding that the vagrant instincts must be con-
42 Howe, op. cit ., II, 18. It should be recalled that Bancroft had studied ethnog¬
raphy under Heeren. Bancroft took great pride in his knowledge of races, and on
one occasion ridiculed Thiers as knowing so little “of the ethnology of his own
continent” that he thought the German Lancers from Prussia were of Uhlan blood.
Howe, II, 249.
43 History, II (20th ed., 1864), 452; ALR, I, 609.
44 History, ALR, VI, 442-443.
45 A complete list would be formidable. Among others, Bancroft cites selfishness,
vanity, love of power, cupidity, ambition, avarice, egoism, covetousness, self-
preservation, love of liberty, a belief in immortality, retributive justice, a concept
of divinity, equality, duty, conscience and the idea of sin, reason and judgment,
altruism and beauty. It will be noted that many seem contradictory, but Bancroft
held that the instincts belonged to various faculties ; thus a higher faculty could
theoretically control the drives of a lower.
46 History, III (18th ed., 1864), 398; ALR, II, 269. “Human nature,” Bancroft
wrote, “is the same in every age and in every climate.” History , I (20th ed., 1864),
50 ; not in ALR.
47 Miscellanies , p. 483. Bancroft continued, “His nature is changed neither by
time nor by country.” One must distinguish carefully between the occasions when
Bancroft speaks of human nature as being the whole of man and when he speaks
of human nature as essence — of man as a rational animal.
48 History, X (1st ed., 1874), 410 ; ALR, V, 446.
1954]
Rathbun — George Bancroft
59
trolled.49 Time and again “an analysis of the human mind” and
an examination of “the examples of history” had affirmed the
existence of a “brutal part” of “human nature.”50 Man would
cease to be man if ever he should become angelic. Perfection was
an ever-receding goal. By his very nature, Bancroft wrote,
“nothing is perfect which is the work of man.”51 No government
seeking perfection could “perfectly succeed, because the mate¬
rials of which society is composed partake of imperfection, and
to extirpate all that is imperfect would lead to the destruction of
society itself.”52 Progress did not rest in the “supposed possi¬
bility of [man's] acquiring new faculties, or coming into the
possession of a new nature,”53 but simply in attempting to eradi¬
cate “established abuses.” Yet while one might recognize that
absolutes were impossible of attainment and that by nature “im¬
perfection clings to the works of his hands,”54 an inner drive
prompted man to a continuing effort to better his self.55 “The
blameless enthusiast, well aware of the narrow powers and
natural infirmities of man, yet aims at perfection from sin” by
subjecting his “base” powers to those of a higher order.56
From what has been said, it can be seen that Bancroft would
place a high stress on education. He had studied under Schleier-
macher and had absorbed completely the educational theories of
Pestalozzi. Both had stressed education as seeking to develop
harmoniously the full potentialities of men. With this theory of
organic development, Bancroft was averse to the old method of
pedagogy which considered the youngster a miniature man. It is
significant, therefore, that, imbued with enthusiasm for concepts
of education opposed to those in practice at Harvard when he
taught there, he should leave to found the Round-Hill School.
Educational techniques had to adapt themselves to the capacities
of the individual. Intelligence flowered in proportion to the
understanding of the individual. It did no good to seek to dam
up emotions legitimate in man. Rather it was necessary to place
the emotions in perspective, to organize them in relation to one
49 History , VIII (3rd ed., 1864), 371; not in ALR. But in the ALR (VI, p. 446),
Bancroft wrote that John Adams “with vehemence and sound reasoning-’’ cham¬
pioned the “tripartite division” of government as a check on the natural passions
of human nature. Adams’s words on the subject, he said, should “be inscribed on
the memory and ears of every convention that would constitute a republic.”
50 History, VIII (3rd ed., 1864), 371; not in ALR. Also History , III (18th ed.,
1864), 273 ; ALR, II, 107.
51 Bancroft to the Reverend Johnson Jan. 2, 1868. Howe, II, 185.
62 Miscellanies, p. 486.
63 Ibid, , p. 483. Thus men could not hope individually to become more godlike than
Shakespeare or Dante or Bacon, Leibnitz or Kant. Miscellanies , p. 513.
54 History, IX (1st ed., 1866), 282-283; ALR, V, 125.
65 See “Ennui” (1830), in Miscellanies , p. 47, for Bancroft’s early statement that
man by his nature seeks the unattainable and that this is essential to his nature.
66 History, II (20th ed., 1864), 344 ; not in ALR.
60 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
another and all in relation to the reason. The individual was
continuity just as was nature. According to Bancroft, latent fac¬
ulties could be encouraged in the individual; because the indi¬
vidual was influenced by the manifold happenings in the universe
about him these happenings could be controlled to produce the
best individual possible. In a sense, man was as man became.
Coincident with his belief in environmental and hereditary
determinism, is Bancroft’s belief that events of the world follow
God’s inexorable decree. While at Harvard he had come into con¬
tact with the thought of Jonathan Edwards.57 What Edwards
had to say about the human will was adopted and, supplemented
by his readings in German philosophy, remained his primary
doctrine throughout life. “The believer in God,” Bancroft wrote
George Ripley in 1857, “instead of asking God to break his laws,
[should seek] to bring his own will into harmony with the divine
will. Piety studies the law, obeys the law, loves the law, and
through perfect obedience becomes perfectly free. For liberty is
the daughter of necessity.”58 There was both motivational and
Providential determinism. Man was free only in his volitional
capacity to act.59 No “human policy or force” could breast the
dictates of Divine Wisdom, for they “proceeded as uniformly and
as majestically as the laws of being, and ... as certain as the
decrees of eternity.”60 Belief in Providential determinism was
not “fatalism.” Such a belief achieved the highest degree for
action by “discerning the counsel of God.” It made for individual
happiness by individual conformity. “The glory of God,” Ban¬
croft intoned, “is not contingent on man’s good will, but all exist¬
ence subserves his purposes. The system of the universe is as a
celestial poem, whose beauty is from all eternity, and must not
be marred by human interpolations.”61 Man had not as yet prog¬
ressed to the point where he could read the future by interpret-
67 During Bancroft’s Harvard days the philosophy text was Locke’s work on the
understanding. But according to William Sloan, in Bancroft’s junior year “ ‘Edwards
on the Will’ fell into his hands. It seems to have had much the same fascination
for him that Locke himself is said to have had for Edwards, but with a far differ¬
ent result. Instead of rousing Bancroft to opposition and polemics, Edwards’ phil¬
osophy fascinated and convinced him, and in the writing and talk of his later life
he has often referred to it as his creed.” ‘‘George Bancroft — In Society, in Politics,
in Letters,” • Century Magazine , n.s. XI (Jan. 1887), p. 475.
58 Howe, op. cit., II, 114-115.
59 “Nothing appears more self-determined than the volitions of each individual ;
and nothing is more certain than that the providence of God will overrule them for
good. The finite will of man, free in its individuality, is, in the aggregate, subordi¬
nate to general laws.” History, III (18th ed., 1864), 399; ALR, II, 269-270.
«> History, VII (7th ed., 1864), 21 ; not in ALR.
61 Miscellanies, p. 490. In Bancroft’s eulogy of Wm. Ellery Channing at the latter’s
death, he could nevertheless pay his respects to Channing’s belief in the “free
agency of man” and point out how Channing’s belief had been the copestone in his
theology, morals, metaphysics and politics, and how it led naturally to a repudia¬
tion of slavery, an institution which Bancroft always emphatically condemned.
Miscellanies, p. 442.
1954]
Rathbun — George Bancroft
61
ing the past, but, because creation followed inexorably a “well-
adjusted” and “perfect harmony,” such a point in time could be
theoretically realized when the “self-consciousness” of the “great
mind of collective man” had sought out its full potentialities.62
For, said Bancroft, “All is . . . one whole ; individuals, families,
peoples, the race, march in accord with the Divine will; and
when any part of the destiny of humanity is fulfilled, we see the
ways of Providence vindicated.”
II. Religious Beliefs
Bancroft’s ideas on human nature and his religious beliefs
mutually supported one another. He believed in the duality of
human beings, that they were partly spiritual, partly animal.
Man was contingent, imperfect, fallible. In addition, Bancroft
was a Christian, believing, as we shall see, in most of the con¬
comitants such a creed entails. His father had reacted against
the degraded Calvinism with which he was acquainted, and,
while he insisted on remaining a Congregationalist all his life,
became an Arminian minister in Worcester. Bancroft was born
into this theologically liberal household and for the most part
adhered to the principles on which he was fostered.63 For a time,
when transcendentalist fever was running high, he was caught
up in the movement, but it can hardly be said that he projected
Transcendentalism into the sort of W eltanshauung of Emerson
and Thoreau.64 He borrowed from both Calvinism and mid-
62 Ibid., p. 491.
63 Bancroft’s general principles were those which he wrote to William Sprague
were possessed by his father. Aaron Bancroft’s “knowledge of human nature,”
wrote his son, made him much sought after. He was a “federalist of the old
school,” but he nevertheless “maintained a steady, consistent attachment to free¬
dom of conscience and of thought, the right of free inquiry, the right of private
judgment.” Howe, op. cit., I, 8. In some respects Bancroft was frankly conservative.
His idea of determinism goes back to Calvinistic doctrine and his adherence to
Christianity, when projected against a nineteenth-century Transcendentalist back¬
ground, is symptomatic of a conservative strain. His two most loved teachers at
Harvard were President Kirkland (to whom he made a fullsome dedication in the
1824 edition of his Poems) and Andrews Norton, men who could hardly be termed
radicals. At one time Bancroft wrote Norton, speaking of himself in the third
person, that there was “some hope” of getting through his studies at Gottingen
“without being essentially altered in his ways of thinking.” Howe, I, 74. Later,
when a friend took umbrage at his supposed defection from his father’s faith, Ban¬
croft answered : “It would be most candid to compare what I have written in
former days with what I have written lately. Perhaps you will find less discrepancy
than you imagine.” Howe, II, 120.
64 Prom about 1830, when Bancroft began seriously writing for the • Christian
Examiner and other periodicals, until about 1852, when he published the fourth
volume of his History, Bancroft’s Transcendental strain ran highest. After that
there is a distinct tapering off, although his ideas on reason, self-reliance and an
inner monitor parallel those of Emerson. See Carroll Hollis, “Brownson on George
Bancroft,” South Atlantic Quarterly, XLIX (Jan. 1950), 42—52. Bancroft’s ideas
are within the context of a Christian faith. According to Howe, II, 310-311, Ban¬
croft was definitely Trinitarian in 1854 ; in 1887 he thought that Christ, the perfect
Redeemer, had redeemed man ; and in 1888 he declined membership in a Unitarian
Club in Boston and declared himself a Congregationalist to a Washington, D. C.
62 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
nineteenth century Transcendentalism. Bancroft rejected the
Calvinist doctrine that “the senses were a totally-depraved foun¬
dation” which could accommodate neither goodness nor truth;
but he was drawn to Puritans like Henry Vane and Anne Hutch¬
inson for their concept of a continued revelation, just as he liked
the Quakers for the same reason. Calvinism in America, he be¬
lieved, was of different stock than its European cousin. In
America, having no prelacy or aristocracy to overthrow, the
harsh side of predestination, he believed, was tempered into a
form of benevolence. Jonathan Edwards summed up “the old
theology of New England” and became “the fountain head of the
new.”65 Bancroft stood for universal love framed within the
image of Christ, Who had come onto earth for “the regeneration
of the world.” Far from being the “distant Providence” of the
rationalists, Christ became “God present in the flesh,” a “crea¬
tive spirit, indwelling in man, his fellow-worker and guide.”66
Biblical critics were anathema who forgot “the true end of criti¬
cism” and made of Christ only a “skilful physician” who had no
“supernatural powers.”67 For Christ as Divinity was “goodness
itself, incarnate and interceding.”68 And for Bancroft this meant
that Christianity was “the whole of the eternal Reason itself.”69
On a purely philosophical level Bancroft embraced the “critical
philosophy” of Kant, particularly as concerns the Kantian doc¬
trines of sensibility, understanding, and reason. Kant had passed
“between dogmatism and doubt to the school of reason,” had
learned the limitations of the mind and had discovered the truths
to be found in the moral and material worlds.70 “For power of
analysis and universality,” Bancroft said of Kant, “he was in¬
ferior to none since Aristotle.”71 The three antinomies about
which Kant had fussed so much were easily avoided by Bancroft.
Edwards had demonstrated to him the truth of a determined
will. As for immortality and God, Bancroft simply made them
Unitarian minister. But as early as August 8, 1821, Bancroft had noted in his
Diary that he had met in London the Unitarian, Belsham, who had discoursed on
the possibility or probability of the soul’s materiality. Bancroft’s comment was :
“Good Christianity is better than bad metaphysics.” Howe, I, 116.
65 See Bancroft’s sympathetic sketch of Edwards in Appleton’s Cyclopaedia of
American Biography, III (1887), 309-311. In 1837 Bancroft wrote that the “early
legislation” of Calvinist Connecticut “is the breath of reason and charity, and
Jonathan Edwards did but sum up the political history of his native commonwealth
for a century, when, anticipating, and in his consistency excelling, Godwin and
Bentham, he gave Calvinism its political euthanasia, by declaring virtue to consist
in universal love.” History, II (20th ed., 1864), 462-463; ALR, I, 616-17.
m Miscellanies, p. 503.
67 Review of Dwight’s Travels in Germany, op. cit., p. 214.
68 Miscellanies, p. 495.
69 Howe, op. cit., II, 262—63. In the same letter Bancroft states his continued
adherance to “the New England Congregational System” and to “the great teach¬
ing of Luther, that every man is his own priest.”
70 History, X (1st ed., 1874), 87 ; not in ALR.
71 History, V (15th ed., 1864), 6 ; not in ALR.
1954]
Rathbun — George Bancroft
63
innate ideas in man. Besides, in his Critique of Practical Reason
Kant had made these ideas dependent upon faith, and Bancroft
certainly had faith. Bancroft was more interested in reason. To
Kant pure reason was the power of the mind to utilize its forms
and categories independent of sensuous experience. Accepting
this, it was but a step for Bancroft to assert that there was “but
one mediation between God and created reason.”72 Pure reason
was an “internal sense” independent of the five bodily senses ;
it existed “within every breast,” a faculty “which from the in¬
finite treasures of its own consciousness, originates truth, and
assents to it by the force of intuitive evidence.”73 Kant would
have agreed with the first statement ; toward the second, which
Bancroft more than likely derived from Schleiermacher, he
would have raised a critical eyebrow. To man alone, said Ban¬
croft, was given that “reason which looks upward as well as
before and after, and connects him with the world that is not
discerned by the senses.”74 From the “dictates of pure reason”
came the flowing forth of truth.75
As reason, implanted in man by God, discovered truth, so con¬
science was the God-given faculty which discerned justice.76
Conscience was the “voice within,” the categorical imperative of
Kant and the “inward monitor” of Christianity. It was possessed
by all sects, all nations, all men. Conscience provided moral direc¬
tion. It impelled men to act for their freedom and to subscribe
to the laws of God. It could, as Francis Bacon and Cotton Mather
might attest, be disregarded — but the results carried terrible
penalties. We know, by an intensely personal intuition, when we
are about to do wrong.
But while universal reason enabled all men to discern truth
and conscience enabled them to act justly, there was still the
problem of evil. Physical evil, in line with Christian thought over
the centuries, was easily explained as in itself a nonentity, that
is, it was the privation of good. The problem of moral evil was
a knottier question. “No man that lives has not sinned,” Bancroft
72 Miscellanies, p. 510. In a reminiscence of his father, Bancroft said that Aaron
Bancroft “considered reason as a primary and universal revelation of God to men
of all nations and all ages ; he was sure of the necessary harmony between reason
and true religion.” Howe, I, 11.
73 Miscellanies, p. 409.
74 Ibid., p. 483. In his History, III (18th ed., 1864), 373; ALR, II, 266, Bancroft
gave an enthusiastic account of Bishop Berkeley’s “intuitive reason.” And in his
1842 eulogy of W. E. Channing, Bancroft said that Channing’s mind was like on
“^Eolian harp” which when placed high “the winds of heaven breathed through it.”
Miscellanies, p. 443.
75 Miscellanies, pp. 409-410.
76 “In questions of practical duty, conscience is God’s umpire, whose light illu¬
mines every heart. There is nothing in books, which had not first, and has not still
its life within us.” He felt that individual conscience may be corrupted, but yet
“the rule of morality is distinctly marked.” Miscellanies, p. 410.
64 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
wrote.77 Since the days of Cain and Abel and even before, moral
evil had been an uncomfortable reality in the world.
Bancroft skirted alike the stands of Manichaeism and Pelagi-
anism. Evil was neither a distinct principle nor inherent in man.
Like physical evil, moral evil was the absence of good. But prag¬
matically, moral evil was distinctly a fact. Bancroft’s solution
was in line with Schleiermacher’s. Since man had a dual nature
the presence of moral evil had to be related to how his nature
worked. Reason was not corrupted. Nor was nature corrupted.
Nevertheless, when reason and nature acted jointly, as they
necessarily must in dualistic man, moral error sometimes re¬
sulted.78 It should be remembered, too, that Bancroft had located
instincts in man’s nature operating for both good and bad.
Because they belong to the various faculties of man they cannot
be evil in themselves since they belong to the perfection of man’s
nature. Yet they are inferior to reason and sometimes operate to
circumvent reason. If we remember also Bancroft’s insistence on
the organic wholeness of man, then it is possible to see why he
so insisted on a harmonious relation of the working elements.
Man progressed toward the perfection of his moral nature inso¬
far as there was a concord of faculties. On the other hand, “The
extraordinary development of one faculty may sometimes injure
the balance of the mind,”79 so that the man could not order his
being to the right end. When a faculty asserted itself beyond its
intrinsic importance then one gained a “perverse or imperfect
view of creation,”80 and this was sin.
Bancroft had little use for those who through a “slavish inter¬
pretation of the Bible” held that there was a Devil actually and
physically present in the world. He sympathized with the Quaker
belief that “no spirit was created evil” and that therefore “God
made no devil.”81 According to Bancroft, man was aware that he
was a “dependent being” and saw the infinite outside of himself.
But “superstition” saw these things too, and developed ghosts
77 History, VIII (3rd ed., 1864), 116 ; not in ALR.
78 Bancroft, of course, was always interested in theological matters and could
have derived much of his thought from Andrews Norton and President Kirkland
at Harvard. But the strong resemblance between his thought and that of Schleier-
macher on religious and educational matters can hardly be incidental. Bancroft
studied education under Schleiermacher and almost certainly came into touch with
his religious theories. In November, 1820, Bancroft wrote President Kirkland that
he was studying the “science of education” under Schleiermacher, which “is the
most interesting which I have yet attended. He brings to his subject a mind sharp¬
ened by philosophical meditation and enriched with the learning of all ages and
countries. He applies to his subject all his vast acquaintance with the different
systems of ethics, and with the human mind .... I honour Schleiermacher above
all the German scholars, with whom it has been my lot to become acquainted.”
Howe, I, 90.
™ History, I (20th ed., 1864), 372; not in ALR.
80 Miscellanies, p. 506. In the context Bancroft is speaking of atheism.
si History, II (20th ed., 1864), 340; ALR, I, 536.
1954]
Rathbun—George Bancroft
65
and myths and horoscopes, “or, yielding blindly to fear, [beheld]
in the evil that is in the world, the present malignity of Satan.”82
There being no actual Satan, Bancroft undoubtedly took a poetic
view of the apple episode in the Garden of Eden. As a Christian,
however, and feeling constrained to explain how evil had occa¬
sioned itself in the world, there was in some sense a fall of man
from original goodness.83 Since it is evident that he believed that
man had fallen from his original position of being God-oriented,
the original sin had probably occurred at the moment when sense
asserted itself at the expense of reason, beginning the long war¬
fare St. Paul termed the war between the Law and the Members.
It was a disaster not to be taken lightly. For, instead of leading
a life of moral earnestness and perfection, man was reduced to a
fearful combat from which only God could save him.
That Bancroft believed that God had redeemed man is evident
from his attitude toward Christ. Enmeshed in his own blunder-
ings about and becoming increasingly prone to evil through
hereditary transmission, man had an absolute need for a re¬
deemer and for grace. That is why he thought that Jonathan
Edwards, who nevertheless has been “cramped and perverted by
theological forms,” had so excelled Bossuet and Vico, since
Edwards had developed a method which illustrated “the whole
‘work of redemption’— the history of the influence of all moral
truth in the gradual regeneration of humanity.”84 With the com¬
ing of Christ the “truth of the triune God” had been “clearly
announced.” God was not so distant and not so sternly mechan¬
ical as the deists had thought. Instead, “Christ appeared as all
that is good and beautiful and true ; as goodness itself, incarnate
and interceding, redeeming and inspiring; the union of liberty,
love, and light; the infinite cause, the infinite mediator, the
infinite in and with the universe, as the paraclete and com¬
forter.”85 It was the doctrine of ‘God With Us” and gave vitality
to “every soul that sighs for redemption.”86 Thus it was that
Bancroft felt he could be no Darwinist and why he approved the
London Quarterly review “refuting” Darwin, writing his wife:
“I believe ‘preventing grace’ precedes the formation of every
living thing; as well as of every regeneration of a soul, or any
event in history.”87
82 History, III (18th ed., 1864), 78; not in ALR.
83 Frequently in the early volumes Bancroft asks rhetorically such a question as,
‘Who denies that the heart of man is deceitful, and desperately wicked?” These
should be understood in their context, but they do indicate that Bancroft was far
from adhering- to Rousseauistic natural g-oodness, where the dictates of the senti¬
ments were unspoiled,
84 History , III (18th ed„ 1864);*399; ALR, II, 269.
85 Miscellanies, p. 504.
88 Ibid. ;
87 The letter was written in 1860. Howe, op. cit., II, 115.
66 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
III. Philosophy of History
As early as 1819 Bancroft indicated an interest in history,
writing Edward Everett for his opinion of history as a suitable
vocation, and adding, “This has always interested me, suits well
with my philology, and as the church history must be taken, too,
with my theology, I think I could become useful by means of it.”88
But Bancroft’s later letter to Everett, thanking him for his
favorable review in the North American Review of the first
volume of the history, need not be taken too seriously in its state¬
ment that he remembered well his early query and that “for six¬
teen years my main purpose in life has been unchanged.”89
Before Bancroft turned to history he had other irons to heat,
and at the progressive failure of each one of them to prove suit¬
ably remunerative he turned to another, until finally there re¬
mained history. All the time, however, there lurked in the back¬
ground his love for his country and his belief that “my chance of
being remembered rests upon my attachment to it.”90
In Germany Bancroft was from the first absorbed into an
atmosphere of historicism. It was evident in biblical criticism,
in the approach to literature and theology, and of course in the
analysis of the past. One of his first instructors was Heeren, a
republican at heart who had supported Jefferson’s Embargo and
who developed one of the truly significant historical methods.
In Heeren, Bancroft found insistence on impartiality, concern
with economic events, an interest in documentation, a passion
for accurate statement.91 In addition, Bancroft was familiar with
the work of Savigny, Eichhorn, Schleusner, Thiers and Herder
and somewhat less with Wolfe and Hegel, all of whom to a
greater or lesser degree emphasized ideas of nationalism,
morality, organicism, determinism and the culture concept.
88 Ibid., I, 65.
89 Ibid., I, 208.
90 Ibid., I, 159. In the same letter (to S. A. Eliot, Sept. 24, 1822) Bancroft con¬
fides that he thinks of the United States as a refuge for “pure religion,” civil
liberties, domestic happiness, and “the kindly affections of social life.”
91 In 1824 Bancroft published his translation of Heeren’s Reflections on the
Politics of Ancient Greece, praising Heeren in the Preface for his “rational and
literary method.” In 1829 he translated and published Heeren’s History of the
Political Systems of Europe, which marks the point where Bancroft was turning
from education to politics and history. From first to last Bancroft stressed the
importance of impartiality. In the Preface to the first volume of his History (1834)
he says that he has rigidly applied “the principles of historical skepticism,” and in
1884 he wrote Chief Justice Waite (Howe, II, 299) that “The historian like the
judge must strive for impartiality, and the only way in which impartiality can be
obtained is to seek the truth for the sake of truth.” Bancroft was somewhat
shaken when Ranke praised his history as “written from the democratic point of
view,” and wrote his wife that democracy in American history was “objective”
and not “subjective.” Thus Bancroft’s emphasis on impartiality would seem to
mean not impartiality in the modern sense but that nothing should cloud the
a priori assumptions which properly applied could interpret history truthfully.
1954]
Rathbun— George Bancroft
67
The New England tradition which Bancroft brought with him
to Germany fitted in peculiarly well. Puritan historians had had
the idea of a superintending Providence Who had led his people
to found a new Canaan and to there realize the Millenium;
American historians of the Revolution had seen the development
of the colonies as a move toward freedom and liberty. With this
for a framework and with new ideas flowing in on Bancroft at
the same time as he was defining for himself his views on human
nature and religion, a philosophy of history could be propounded.
To Bancroft, history was an empirical science that substanti¬
ated the great findings of philosophy. It was not enough to
declare that there was a “perfect order and unity of creation’’
sustained by God and understood by reason; “history, testing
that idea by observation, traces the vestiges of moral law
through the practice of the nations in every age, proves experi¬
mentally the reality of justice, and confirms by induction the
intuitions of reason.”92 Bancroft’s idea of God as the sole reposi¬
tory of overriding cause supplemented and defined the more
secular aspects of the “manifest destiny” of the United States.
It was, as he wrote his wife in 1847, the idea that “Each page of
history may begin and end with Great is God and marvellous are
his doings among the children of God and marvellous are his
doings among the children of men.”93 The concept elevated the
office of the historian to just below that of the poet, for, although
the historian lacked the poet’s furor divinus, his proper study
was man, “the last work of creation, and the most perfect in its
relations with the Infinite.”94 By a comparison of documents and
by analyzing facts and referring them to the Kantian “laws of
the human mind,” by separating idea from its formal concretiza-
tion and checking events with the “movement of humanity,” then
history could assert itself as “a science” which ascribed the guid¬
ing deterministic principles of the universe to the “providence
of God.”95
02 History, VIII (3rd ed., 1864), 118; not in ALR. Of. the statement of William
Sloane, op. cit., 484, that “Bancroft’s devotion to Kant as well as Edwards is ex¬
plained by the fact that, meeting- the skeptics on their own ground, Kant still
proves the existence of a priori truth and of a priori synthetic judgments. His
[Bancroft’s] standpoint, therefore, as an historian, is that of the newer scientific
school, which views history as a unit, its forces as constant, and their manifesta¬
tions as parts of an org-anized whole. Every individual must have his place in the
picture, but the background is the history of the race.”
93 Howe, op. cit., II, 77. Bancroft continued: “I defy a man to penetrate the
secrets and laws of events without something- of faith. He may look on and see as
it were the twinkling- of stars and planets and measure their distances and motions ;
but the life of history will escape him. He may pile a heap of stones, he will not
get at the soul. This is my commentary.”
94 Miscellanies, p. 493.
95 History, III (18th ed., 1864), 398; ALR, II, 398. Thus in Bancroft’s very first
volume of his History he set forth his aim: “It is the object of the present work
to explain how the change in the condition of our land has been accomplished ;
68 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
Thus history was the analysis of idea as absorbed in the
mundane world. ‘‘The moral world is swayed by general laws,”
Bancroft wrote, and it in turn animated men and events.96
History was the companion of philosophy and the interpreter of
philosophy through an appeal to actual events. “Let not human
arrogance assume to know intuitively, without observation, the
tendency of the ages.”97 Facts “faithfully ascertained” and
properly related formed “the firm links of a brightly burnished
chain” of cause and effect.98 As philosophy elaborated the “study
of ethics” history checked it against the broad background of
experience. The historian, “to find moral truth . . . must study
man in action.”99 “The laws of which reason is conscious can be
tested best by experience ; and inductions will be the more sure,
the larger the experience from which they are drawn.”100
Possessed then of the truth that God revealed Himself through
an inexorable chain of events, the student would be incited to an
active participation in this “grand drama of time,” sustained by
the “tranquil conviction” that “the Redeemer of the nations
liveth.”101 Idea made events; chance was an idle man’s fancy;
history was science seeking out God’s laws.
The great dividing line between the past and the present
growth toward liberty was drawn by the principles of the
Reformation. Justification by faith as expounded by Luther and
the “republican spirit of religion” advanced by Calvin-— “the
keenest dialectician of his century” — crashed to the ground the
structure of canon law and priestly hierarchy of a church content
to remain within the boundaries of the Middle Ages. The indi¬
vidual assumed his innate importance. Freedom of conscience
paved the way for freedom of action according to God’s decrees.
Republicanism meant revolution.102 Institutions were swept aside
in the grand march of humanity to its appointed end. “Out of
Calvinistic Protestantism rose in that day four great teachers of
four great nationalities, America, Great Britain, Germany, and
France. Edwards, Reid, Kant, and Rousseau were all imbued
with religiosity, and all except the last, who spoiled his doctrine
and, as the fortunes of a nation are not under the control of a blind destiny, to
follow the steps by which a favoring Providence, calling our institutions into being,
has conducted the country to its present happiness and glory.” History , I (20th
ed., 1864), 4 ; ALR, I, 3.
66 History, III (18th ed., 1864), 397; ALR, It, 268. <Cf. also Bancroft’s statement
that “the principles of public justice . . . emanate directly from God.” (4 July,
1826 Oration)
97 History, III (18th ed., 1864), 397; ALR, II, 268.
98 Ibid., p. 398 ; ALR, II, 268.
99 History, ALR, VI, 7.
i" Ibid.
191 Ibid.
i°2 Thus Bancroft had no deep-seated antipathy to war but felt it good — and
almost necessary — in the march of freedom.
1954]
Rathbun — George Bancroft
69
by dreamy indolence, were expositors of the active powers of
man. All these in political science, Kant most exactly of all, were
the counterparts of America . . .”1013 The Reformation inculcated
intelligence, moral uprighteousness, courage and a love of free¬
dom in all men. Its theological principles precipitated the great
political awakening.
In America, Protestantism activated alike the Calvinists, the
Quakers, the freemen of Virginia, the backwoodsmen. It was a
“renovating principle” that declared for “the immutable prin¬
ciples of human nature and human rights,” duplicated in politics
what it had achieved in religion, elevated the common man to his
rightful peerage. But since “Protestantism [was] not humanity,”
because fundamentally it was a protest movement, in America it
took on new garb befitting its new geographical location. It had
fought the battle against tradition and had affirmed again the
eternal rights of justice, truth and equality. Now predestination
lost its position as the leading precept ; instead came the concepts
that God was all being, that to love God meant to include all
humans, that God was the fountain of knowledge, that He was
the source of Happiness, his own chief end in creation, an abso¬
lute sovereign. New England, for instance, “ceased to make pre¬
destination its ruling idea, and, maturing a character of its own,
‘Saw love attractive every system bind/ ”104
Inherent in Protestant Christianity was the love of liberty and
the movement toward democracy. To Bancroft, “democracy is
practical Christianity.”105 In spite of the fact that a “mixture of
good and evil is the condition of our earthly being,” the impulse
for liberty had to be located in “human nature” ;106 in the organic
development of America the principle had attained a lodging that
could never be preempted.107 The colonists had been neither
skeptics nor sensualists, but Christians. And fundamentally,
because Protestantism logically led to freedom of conscience and
consequent equality before the law, this led to individual liberty
and communion on an equal basis. America was an example to
the world of the workings of democracy. Its colonists upon
arriving found a virgin land uncluttered by traditions and insti-
103 History, IX (1st ed., 1866), 501 ; not in ALR.
104 History, IV (18th ed., 1864), 154-155; ALR, II, 405. In 1868 Bancroft felt that
Catholics were massing- power and he wrote the Reverend Dr. Samuel Osg-ood that
the secular aspect could not be treated with “forbearance of sentimentality and
imagination ; the attempt at tyranny over mind and in the state is too terrible to
be favoured or forgiven. We must rekindle the lights of Puritanism . . .” Howe,
op. cit., II, 204.
105 Howe, I, 216. The remark was made in a speech at Springfield on the 4 July,
1836.
100 4 July Oration, 1826, op. cit., p. 4.
107 “The democratic principle is the true American principle ; it is as safe as our
independence.” Howe, op. cit., I, 234.
70 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
tutions. They bore with them the seeds of democratic proce¬
dures.108 And since organic development proceeds true to the in¬
ward energies of self, democracy was destined to become the
distinguishing trait of the national character.
Furthermore, there were philosophical reasons for the benefi¬
cent rule of the commonalty. Since, Bancroft argued, “the gifts
of mind and heart are universally diffused, [and] the sentiment
of truth, justice, love, and beauty exists in every one, then it
follows, as a necessary consequence, that the common judgment
in taste, politics, and religion, is the highest authority on earth,
and the nearest possible approach to an infallible decision.”109
It should be noted that Bancroft does not state that the common
mind is infallible on all occasions. He admits that although rea¬
son is “a universal faculty” there may be “differences of
opinion.” On the other hand, “Truth is one.” Consequently, in
making men at large the criterion of government, he goes on the
statistical basis that if enough men participate then the errors
of individuals will be cancelled out by the majority will that has
certified truth through reflective consciousness.110 “The popular
voice is all powerful with us ; this is our oracle ; this, we acknowl¬
edge, is the voice of God.”111
Whereas Emerson had exalted the individual because of rea¬
son, Bancroft used reason to forge the idea of collective action.
To Bancroft individuals were of “limited sagacity.” “The indi¬
vidual is often lost; Providence never disowns the race.”112 He
would have decided the slavery question by the “collective judge¬
ment of the nation” because at the bottom of United States insti¬
tutions and union lay the “principle of popular power.”113 When
war between the states did come it was because of the “fallacy”
of the “doctrine of individualism, pushed to its extremes!
limit.”114 His emphasis on the social group no doubt arose from
an early acquaintance with German nationalism,115 his belief that
10S “As the Pilgrims landed, their institutions were already perfected. Democratic
liberty and independent Christian worship at once existed in America.” History, I
(20th ed., 1864), 313; ALR, I, 209.
109 Miscellanies, p. 415.
no This was no primitivistic doctrine. His thinking' was similar to Jefferson’s.
“Education of the people, good morals, moderation, decentralization, individual
liberty with deference to law — these are the conditions for organising a republic.”
Howe, II, 242-243.
in 4 July Oration, 1826, op. cit., p. 20. Cf. John Barnard’s election sermon of 1734,
when he said : “This voice of nature is the Voice of God. Thus ’ tis that vox populi
est vox T)ei.,}
112 Miscellanies, p. 434. But on at least one occasion Bancroft remarked that “The
people are swayed more by their emotions than by dialectics ; . . . the majority is
most readily roused for that . . . which appeals to the heart.” History, ALR, I, 183 ;
this passage not given in the parallel section of the 20th edition of vol. I, 280-281.
113 Howe, op. cit., II, 37.
114 Ibid., II, 137.
115 Later, when Bancroft was minister to Germany (1867—74), he incurred French
disapproval in a military rigidness which nearly out-Junkered the Junkers.
1954]
Rathbun — George Bancroft
71
the Americans were forging a new race or at least a national
consciousness, and his awareness of a dark side to human nature.
“The numbers, purity, culture, industry, and daring of [Amer¬
ica’s] inhabitants proclaimed the existence of a people, rich in
creative energy, and ripe for institutions of their own,” Bancroft
remarked of the early colonies.116 New conditions and geograph¬
ical factors and the influence of a new age contributed to distin¬
guish Americans in the mass from their European brethren. The
individual was important; but it was the social group that the
historian must keep constantly before his mind’s eye.
While Bancroft held that progress was a continuing factor
throughout the world, the conditions unique to America placed
her first in the march to the realization of destiny. Over the
nations of the world hovered the spirit of God, “a superior power
of intelligence and love, which is moved by justice and shapes
their course.”117 . . the eternal flow of existence never rests,”
he remarked, “bearing the human race onwards through continu¬
ous change. Principles grow into life by informing the public
mind, and in their maturity gain the mastery over events; fol¬
lowing each other as they are bidden, and ruling without a
pause.”118 Since man’s nature in its essence was fixed, progress
in the race could not stem from a fundamental change in human
nature. Progress came from without man, from God, who worked
both “within and around” man to accomplish his ends. Man’s
progress, as Herder and others had said and as Aristotle had
been the first to say, rested on the accumulative power of culture.
There could be no turning back, no nostalgia for the primitive
days when man was most himself, for the promise lay in the
present and even more so in the future.119 The faculties of the
individual mind were limited to their development ; but the race,
through the grace of God, moved ever in advance.
There were breaths of dissent to Bancroft, but they were
drowned in the good-will of a nation emerging into national con¬
sciousness. No man mirrors so well as Bancroft a period when a
people conceived of itself as peculiarly favored by the gods. The
116 History, VII (7th ed., 1864), 22; ALR, IV, 3.
117 History, IV (18th ed., 1864), 4; ALR, II, 319-320.
118 Miscellanies, p. 483.
119 History, IV (18th ed., 1864), 8-9; ALR, II, 323. In a footnote Bancroft cites
Kant’s Idee zu einer allgemeinen Geschichte in Welturgerlicher Ansicht (Sammt-
liche Werke, vii, i, 319). Later he remarked, “The method of Kant being- that of the
employment of mind in its freedom, his fidelity to human freedom has never been
questioned and never can be. He accepted the world as it is, only with the obliga¬
tion that it is to be made better. His political philosophy enjoins a constant
struggle to lift society out of its actual imperfect state, which is its natural state,
into a higher and better one, by deciding every question, as it arises, in favor of
reform and progress, and keeping open the way for the elimination of all remain¬
ing evil.” History , X (1st ed., 1874), 88 ; not in ALR.
72 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
march of America toward freedom had been of epic character.
Its heroes were of the stature of Ulysses and Aeneas, considered
hardly less than saints in many an American household. God was
on the American side, succoring it and confounding its enemies.
Historians since have shown how pitiably wrong Bancroft so
often was. He was rich in theories but poor in proofs. He wrote
within the context of a faith, possessed by a priori assumptions
that naturally colored his interpretation. All men have a par¬
ticular bias ; the fault with Bancroft was that he had so many —
and that they were so strong. For us his failure lies in his in¬
ability to see the rich complexity of events. He saw things whole,
from a theoretical point of view. American history was the result
of one all-embracing national character. Yet he could lay claim
to some firsts. He was an indefatigable fact-finder, however
much he shaded them.120 He carefully documented his sources.121
Although primitively interpreted from our point of view, he had
an appreciation for economic and social data, demography and
geography.122 He understood the various colonies had played
various roles in the movement towards independence, and that
the west had been a conditioning factor on the way people
thought. Above all, he treasured the values of impartiality and
of historical skepticism.
Most important for any final evaluation of Bancroft is his con¬
cept of cultural relativism.123 Throughout Europe a profound
mental change had taken place, and Bancroft, always sympa¬
thetic to theoretical thought, was affected. It was expressed in
the attitude that “unceasing movement is the law of whatever is
finite.” “Everything is in movement, and for the better,” he
wrote, “except only the fixed eternal law by which the necessity
of change is established ; or rather except only God, who includes
in Himself all being, all truth, and all love.” From the idea rose
the consequent belief that the actions of men could be interpreted
in terms of environment and heredity. A developmental thesis
could explain why men thought, felt, and acted as they did and
reduce seeming contradictions to consistency. Here in Bancroft
is a resolute attempt to view history in terms of genetic explana¬
tions. There was no hiatus, he thought, between one moment of
120 Howe (op. cit., II, 104—105) wrote that Bancroft in utilizing- the vast amount
of source material used each page of a blank quarto book for a particular day,
then wrote down all that had occurred, even to the phases of the moon.
121 Bancroft explained he had not documented vols. VII-VIII of the History be¬
cause of “the variety and multitude of the papers which have been used, and which
could not be intelligibly cited.” Howe, op. cit., p. 103, II.
122 See N. H. Dawes and F. T. Nichols, “Revaluing Bancroft,” New England
Quarterly, VI (1933), 278 ff.
123 I am at present engaged in tracing the genesis and development of the theory
of genetic historical scholarship in America from 1800 to 1850.
1954]
Rathbun — George Bancroft
73
time and another, or between the acts of states, groups and indi¬
viduals ; attention to the complex of causal sequences could trans¬
form a chaos of facts into a model of scientific order. His re¬
ligious and philosophical views of human nature taught him that
in essence the individual would always remain what he was, a
man contingent upon God. But when it came to the view of
society, it was a different matter. His idea of organicism led to
the concept of national character. The Edwardsian element and
the notion of national character are essential to his thought, both
acting as mediating links between his views of human nature and
his philosophy of history.
SPRING EMERGENCE AND FLORAL HOSTS OF
WISCONSIN BUMBLEBEES
R. E. Fye and J. T. Medler1
Queen bumblebees were collected in the spring on floral hosts
and the species determined. In southern Wisconsin the first
queens appear about April 20 in an average season. However,
the first queens may appear as early as the first week in April,
and in a very late season, such as in 1958, they may not appear
until the first week of May.
Bombus terricola Kirby is the first species to appear and
B. bimaculatus Cress, and B. ternarius Say are not far behind.
Succeeding these three species are B. pennsylv anicus DeGeer,
B. auricomus (Robt.) , B. separatus Cress., B. affinis Cress.,
B. impatiens Cress., B. vagans F. Sm. and B. fervidus F.
In northern Wisconsin the dates of emergence are about one
week later. There B. borealis Kirby probably appears about mid-
May and B. rufocinctus Cress., which is the last species to appear
in the spring, is slightly later.
A study of the floral hosts of bumblebees is important in
regard to increasing their numbers. The provision of spring
floral hosts may have considerable effectiveness in attracting and
holding the queens in a given area. Later in the season the floral
hosts are of interest in their capacity of competitors with culti¬
vated legumes which need pollination for the production of a
seed crop.
Frison (1928) pointed out that the bees follow the floral suc¬
cession, i.e., the first bees out in the spring are essentially bees
which nest in the woods where the blossom at the time of their
emergence is located and those emerging later nest in the field
where the bulk of the bloom has moved by the time of their
emergence. Since an area which presented the entire sequence in
sufficient amounts should provide some inducement for the bees
to nest in the area it would appear that any individual interested
in bumblebee propagation would do well to provide the entire
sequence.
In Wisconsin we find the first emerging bumblebees visiting
the various species of willow. This plant with its copious quan-
1 Research Assistant, Department of Entomology and Associate Professor, Depart¬
ments of Agronomy and Entomology, University of Wisconsin. This work was sup¬
ported in part by the Research Committee of the Graduate School of the University
of Wisconsin from funds supplied by the Wisconsin Alumni Research Foundation.
75
76 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
tities of readily available pollen undoubtedly is of great value to
the queen who must initiate a colony and procure the necessities
without any aid. As the willow wanes the wild and cultivated
plums become the source of pollen and nectar and these are suc¬
ceeded by the cherries, both native and cultivated. As these de¬
cline the dandelions and apples become the important sources of
provisions. Lilac, Crataegus spp. and Lonicera spp. which follow
then become the main food sources. This brings the bees to the
early bloom of white Dutch clover which inaugurates the period
during which the various clovers, white, Ladino, red, sweet and
alsike, and alfalfa become the most used sources of provisions.
These legumes, particularly in farmed areas, satisfy the bulk of
the requirements of the bee colony throughout the summer with
only a little competition from sumac, basswood, thistles, asters
and goldenrod. However, when the males and new queens emerge
they are commonly found on the latter two plants. Other plants
included in Table 1 either have short-lived bloom or provide
insufficient bloom to provide the essential amounts of pollen and
nectar.
Bumblebees show marked preference for certain species or
families of plants. Plath (1934) gave information on the bees in
New England. The floral hosts in Wisconsin have been listed in
Table 1, and supplementary data are presented here.
B. rufocinctus which is generally speaking, a late season bee
shows a marked preference for the Compositae which are in
bloom at the time the colonies reach their peak populations. Par¬
ticularly visited are the goldenrods, asters and sunflowers, which
were probably native hosts before man introduced the legumes.
B. separatus is rather faithful to the legumes and shows pref¬
erence for red and white clover. An excellent tripper of alfalfa
its workers are too few in number to be of more than minor
importance in that capacity in northern Wisconsin.
B. borealis shows an extremely marked preference for red
clover and in its presence seldom visits other flowers. However,
it has occasional lapses and visits other legumes showing a pref¬
erence for the white clovers in the absence of red clover. Occa¬
sionally workers and males are found on a variety of blossoms
but they are usually few in number. Queens are found rather
frequenty on vetch in the spring.
B . fervidus probably shows the extreme in a marked prefer¬
ence. The workers of this bee are found on red clover and virtu¬
ally no other flower except when there is a lack of red clover.
At these times they switch to white clover and alfalfa, but may
occasionally be found on other flowers, usually those of the
family Compositae.
The Wisconsin Floral Hosts of the Bombus Collected in 1951, 1952 and 1953
Q = queen, W = worker, M = male
1954]
Fye & Medler— Wisconsin Bumblebees
77
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o o
o
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oo
snxojdjod
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oo
sniBjnoBLUiq
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O O
BJOOUJO}
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siuqje
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ooo
o
snoiuBAjAsuuad
snpiAjoj
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a oo
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o
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3
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cO -3 O y h
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S
CO 3
oo U cC
<o i
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£ J}
3 $
«0 Q
c
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03 .2 co co y
ft £ bC § CO
^ «? co -2 g y
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3
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TABLE 1 — (Continued)
The Wisconsin Floral Hosts of the Bombus Collected in 1951, 1952 and 1953
Q = queen, W = worker, M = male
78
Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48
TABLE 1 — (Continued)
The Wisconsin Floral Hosts of the Bombus Collected in 1951, 1952 and 1953
Q = queen, W = worker, M ■= male
1954]
Fye & Medler — Wisconsin Bumblebees
79
TABLE 1 — (Continued)
The Wisconsin Floral Hosts of the Bombus Collected in 1951, 1952 and 1953
Q := queen, W = worker, M = male
80
Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
'Variety dorsalis.
1954] Fye & Medler — Wisconsin Bumblebees 81
B. terricola shows a preference for white clovers, both white
Dutch and alsike, but it is not as marked a preference as that of
B. borealis and B. fervidus for red clover. The bee goes readily
to alfalfa. This is fortunate since it is an excellent tripper of
alfalfa blossoms and is among the most important pollinators of
the crop in northern Wisconsin. The floral hosts of this bee are
actually rather diverse and it may be found on flowers of most
any sort but seems to place the composites after the legumes in
order of preference.
B. vagans seems to show little preference being a visitor of a
variety of flowers. However, red clover seems to draw fair num¬
bers of the workers and might be noted as a preferred blossom.
It is also commonly found on the white clovers and less commonly
on the composites, a family in which it shows a preference for
the thistles.
B. ternarius shows some preference for white Dutch and alsike
clovers but is found on a wide range of hosts apparently pre¬
ferring the composites to other bloom. This gives us a clue as to
the native hosts before the introduction of cultivated legumes.
Inadequate data were obtained on the floral preference of the
other species of Wisconsin bumblebees but generally it may be
stated that the white clovers draw the most attention when they
are available. In fact, legumes in general seem to have the
greatest attraction for the bees during the summer and among
themselves create the greatest competition for pollinators of the
seed crops. Goldenrod and thistles are the major native com¬
petitors. Although such bloom as flreweed, raspberries, bass¬
wood, jewel weed and sumac may attract a considerable number
of bees their bloom is either too short lived or occurs in insuffi¬
cient quantity to be important as competing bloom.
Summary
In Southern Wisconsin bumblebee queens emerge from their
winter hibernacula during the latter part of April.
The spring floral sequence, i.e., the presence of plants bloom¬
ing in succession, markedly effects the ability of an area to
attract and maintain bumblebee populations.
A wide range of flowers, both native and cultivated, are visited
by the Wisconsin bumblebees. However, the various species show
preferences for certain groups of flowers. The legumes seem to
be the major food source during the summer. The composites are
frequently utilized after mid summer.
82 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
In the production of legume seed crops, the different cultivated
legumes are the most serious competitors for bumblebee popu¬
lations.
Literature Cited
Frison, T. H. 1923. Biological studies of the Bremidae, or bumblebees, with
special reference to the .species occurring in Illinois. Unpublished
Thesis, University of Illinois.
Plath, 0. E. 1934. Bumblebees and their ways. The Macmillan Co., 201 pp.
IDENTIFICATION OF THE LARVAE OF THE MORE
IMPORTANT INSECT PESTS OF SOUR
CHERRY IN WISCONSIN1
D. A. Dever
University of Wisconsin , Madison
In a field study on the biology and control of the insect pests
infesting sour cherry it is relatively easy to identify the majority
of the species involved. There is apt to be confusion, however,
when the larvae of certain of these pests are being studied simul¬
taneously. In Wisconsin the species that may be incorrectly
identified because of morphological and environmental similari¬
ties are the cherry fruit worm, Grapholitha packardi Zell.; the
destructive prune worm, Mineola scitulella Hulst. ; the fruit tree
leaf roller, Archips argyrospila (Walk.) ; the bud moth, Spilo-
nota ocellana (D. & S.) ; the codling moth, Carpocapsa pomonella
(L.) ; and the plum curculio, Conotrachelus nenuphar (Herbst).
Although the codling moth, Carpocapsa pomonella (L.), is not a
major pest of sour cherry in Wisconsin, it is included here
because of its similarity to the cherry fruit worm.
Of course the adults of the plum curculio can be readily dis¬
tinguished from the adults of the other pests. Adults of the
others, all Lepidoptera, are not difficult to identify if reference
is made to published descriptions. Since these descriptions are
readily available they are not included here.
Morphological differences are present in some of the larval
forms but the developmental cycles, types of injury, and general
larval configuration may be similar and the larvae may be identi¬
fied incorrectly. For example, the prune worm and the bud moth
have similar developmental cycles, they cause similar injuries,
and are of the same general body configuration in all but the last
instar. Since numerous points of similarity exist it is believed
that a key for the identification of the larval forms of the various
species will be of value.
The characters used in the preparation of this key were those
ordinarily used in larval taxonomy (Peterson, 1948). The de¬
tailed larval descriptions were made from specimens collected in
the Door County area of Wisconsin. Setal patterns for each of the
species are presented in Figure 1. On the basis of these larval
1 Approved for publication by the Director of the Wisconsin Agricultural Experi¬
ment Station.
83
84 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
CFW
Figure 1. Setal maps of the cherry fruit worm, the destructive prune worm,
the bud moth, and the fruit tree leaf roller.
1954] D ever— Identification of Larval Pests of Cherry 85
Legend
CFW- — Cherry fruit worm
DPW — Destructive prune worm
BM — Bud moth
FTLR — Fruit tree leaf roller
Ta — 1st thoracic segment
Ta — 2nd thoracic segment
As — 2nd abdominal segment
Aa — 3rd abdominal segment
A8 — 8th abdominal segment
A 9 — 9th abdominal segment
rho — Seta rho
sp — Spiracle
86 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
descriptions and setal patterns the following key to all instars
of the six species was constructed.
Key to the Larvae
1. Abdominal prolegs present . 2
Abdominal prolegs absent . plum curculio
2. Crochets on abdominal prolegs uniordinal, uniserial, and in a
complete circle; general body color whitish pink . 3
Crochets biordinal or triordinal . 4
3. Anal comb absent . codling moth
Anal comb present . . cherry fruit worm
4. Crochets on abdominal prolegs biordinal, uniserial and in a com¬
plete circle; general body color chocolate brown, somewhat paler
on ventral surface; seta rho of the eighth abdominal segment
cephalad-ventrad of the .spiracle . . . bud moth
Crochets on abdominal prolegs triordinal, uniserial and in a com¬
plete circle . . . . . 5
5. Seta rho of the eighth abdominal segment distinctly dorsad of the
spiracle; general body color chocolate brown in all but final instar;
final instar, chocolate brown on dorsal surface, ventral surface
orange-brown, two colors distinctly separated laterally by spiracles
. . . . destructive prune worm
Seta rho of eighth abdominal segment distinctly cephalad-ventrad
of the spiracle; general body color greenish yellow, .fruit tree leaf roller
PLUM CURCULIO
The description of the larva is given by Quaintance and Jenne
(1912) as follows:
The Larva
When full grown — length 6 to 9 mm., breadth 1.75 to 2.5 mm. ;
a yellowish-white, footless grub ; nearly cylindrical, slightly flat¬
tened on ventral side; body curved toward ventral side, bow¬
shaped; sides of each segment from second thoracic to eighth
abdominal expanded into a fleshy lobe above and below a
depressed lateral line.
Head as broad as long, about 1 mm. each way; color nut-
brown; epistoma, clypeus, labrum, and mandibles darker; epi¬
cranial suture and its continuation as a median line extending
beyond the middle of the front also darker; frontal suture light
yellow, submentum yellowish white ; antennae minute, one-
jo inted, situated at base of mandibles at ends of frontal suture;
minute eye-spots usually present directly laterad and caudad of
antennae; mandibles with two blunt teeth; palpi two-jointed;
seven hairs on each side of the epicranium, two on the front, two
on epistoma, two large and many small hairs on labrum, two on
each mandible, two on submentum, two on mentum, one on
stipes, two on palpifer, and eight on lacinia.
1954] Dever — Identification of Larval Pests of Cherry 87
Thorax. — Prothorax with a light brown chitinized shield on
the dorsum and a slightly chitinized area on each side of the
venter; a conspicuous oblong spiracle situated above the middle
of the side, its long axis extending dorso-ventrally ; three pairs
of large hairs on the dorsum, two pairs of large and five pairs
of minute hairs below the lateral line.
Mesothorax and metathorax without spiracles; each with one
pair of large and four pairs of minute hairs on the dorsum, a
large hair on the upper and one on the lower lateral lobe, one
pair of large and four pairs of minute hairs on the venter.
Abdomen. — Segments 1 to 7 each with an oblong spiracle
above the middle of the side, its long axis extending longitudi¬
nally; two pairs of large and three pairs of minute hairs on the
dorsum, one large and one minute hair on each lateral lobe, and
three pairs of minute hairs on the venter.
The eighth abdominal segment is smaller than the preceding,
truncate posteriorly, has no spiracles, and bears two pairs of
large and one pair of minute hairs on the posterior dorsal margin
and two pairs of minute hairs on the venter.
The anus, surrounded by three anal lobes, is situated on the
ventral posterior part of the ninth abdominal segment.
CODLING MOTH
Mature larva— General color grayish-white to cream, dorsal
surface with pink tints showing through the skin ; head, mottled
deep brown to black, shiny; mouth parts, dark to pale brown;
antennae, grayish-white; thoracic shield, shiny, light brown on
anterior half, posterior half dark brown, divided in the middle
by a longitudinal paler line ; thoracic legs, white with pale brown
scleratizations ; prolegs, white, crochets, uniordinal, uniserial,
and in a complete circle; setae on slightly differentiated pina-
culae ; anal shield, light brown, anal comb absent.
CHERRY FRUIT WORM
Mature larva — General color whitish-pink, ventral surface not
so pink as dorsal; head, from mottled yellowish-brown to dark
brown, shiny; mouth parts, pale gray, almost white; antennae,
white at base, slightly darker towards tip ; thoracic shield, shiny,
pale yellow to light brown, divided in the middle by a longitudi¬
nal paler line; thoracic legs, white; prolegs white, crochets uni-
ordinal, uniserial, and in a complete circle; crochets on anal
prolegs uniordinal, uniserial, and in a transverse band ; setae on
grayish-white pinaculae ; anal shield, mottled grayish-black ;
88 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
anal comb, dark brown with four to six prongs of irregular
length.
BUD MOTH
Mature larva — General color chocolate brown, ventral surface
paler than dorsal; head, from medium brown to black; mouth
parts brown, lighter than head ; antennae pale at base, remainder
black ; thoracic shield shiny, dark brown to black, divided in the
middle by a longitudinal paler line; thoracic legs black, shiny;
prolegs lighter than body, crochets biordinal, uniserial, and in a
complete circle ; crochets on anal prolegs biordinal, uniserial, and
in a transverse band ; setae on pinaculae which are darker than
body ; anal shield medium to dark brown ; anal comb short, black,
two to five prongs of irregular length.
DESTRUCTIVE PRUNE WORM
Mature larva — Dorsal surface dark brown, ventral surface
orange, two colors meet on pleural walls at spiracles ; head pale
brown, fringed with dark brown to black, shiny; mouth parts
pale to dark brown; antennae whitish at base, brown to black
towards tip; thoracic shield shiny, brownish orange, divided in
the middle by a longitudinal paler line; thoracic legs black;
prolegs brownish-orange ; crochets triordinal, uniserial, and in a
complete circle; crochets on anal prolegs triordinal, uniserial,
and in a transverse band ; setae rarely on pinaculae ; anal shield
roughened, yellowish-brown ; anal comb absent.
FRUIT TREE LEAF ROLLER
Mature larva — General color greenish-yellow ; head black,
shiny; mouth parts black; antennae white at base, remainder
black ; thoracic shield shiny, yellowish-white, mottled with black
near caudal edge ; first thoracic legs black, remaining pairs paler,
nearly concolorous with body; prolegs concolorous with body;
crochets triordinal, uniserial, and in a complete circle; crochets
on anal prolegs uniserial, triordinal, and in a transverse band ;
anal shield not distinct, concolorous with body; anal comb
present, four to eight prongs of irregular length ; setae on pina¬
culae which are hardly differentiated from general body color.
Literature Cited
Peterson, A. 1948. Larvae of Insects. Part 1. Lepidoptera and Hymenop-
tera. Edwards Bros. Inc., Ann Arbor, Michigan. 315 pp. Ill.
Quaintance, A. L. and E. L. Jenne. 1912. The Plum Curculio. U. S. D. A.
Bur. Ent. Bull. 103:1-250. Ill.
CERTAIN MICROBIOLOGICAL CHARACTERISTICS OF
SELECTED GENETIC TYPES OF FOREST HUMUS1
D. L. Mader2
Investigations of forest humus in the past were largely con¬
fined to the morphological and physico-chemical properties of
ectorganic and endorganic layers (Mueller, 1887; Romell and
Heiberg, 1931 ; Heiberg and Chandler, 1941 ; Hoover and Lunt,
1952). The microbiological characteristics, on the other hand,
received only casual attention, and the fragmentary information
now available is of questionable value because it was obtained
with little regard to the genetic nature of humus. This study
attempted to detect, by laboratory methods the behavior of micro¬
organisms in four pronounced genetical types of humus layers.
Three of these were selected from the ectorganic and the fourth
from the endorganic forms. The description of these types
follows.
1. Arthropod bran mor (foliogenous ecto-humus) developed by
the macerating activity of arthropods on morainic loams sup¬
porting hemlock-hardwood stands. The humus layer consists of
friable or granular remains of leaves and needles, sharply delin¬
eated from the podzol horizon and averaging about 1 inch in
thickness. This type of forest floor was frequently referred to as
“forest litter,” “forna,” or “superficial mull.” Samples were col¬
lected in the vicinity of Clear Lake Field Station, University of
Wisconsin. The chemical characteristics of this type were pre¬
viously studied by Lafond (1950) and Mader (1953).
2. Mycelial matted mor (partly lignified ecto-humus) devel¬
oped from plant remains and interwoven fungal hyphae under
stands of hemlock on morainic loams. This typical representative
of “raw humus” is made up of a thick, firmly consolidated super¬
ficial layer derived primarily from fungous mycelia penetrating
the partly decomposed or lignified plant remains. Chemical prop¬
erties were previously reported by the author (Mader, 1953).
Samples of this form were collected at Camp Filibert Roth,
University of Michigan, northern peninsula of Michigan.
1 Contribution from the Soils Department, Wisconsin Agricultural Experiment
Station, Madison, Wisconsin, in cooperation with the Wisconsin Conservation
Department. Publication approved by the Director of the Wisconsin Agricultural
Experiment Station.
2 Research Assistant in Soils, University of Wisconsin. The writer acknowledges
the helpful suggestions and assistance in laboratory determination of Dr. S. A.
Wilde, Professor D. J. Persidsky, and Mr. C. B. Davey. Appreciation is expressed
to S. B. White of the Newaygo Timber Co., Ontario, and Dr. Andre Lafond of the
Laval University, Quebec, for supplying humus samples.
89
90 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
3. Sphagnum bog mor (moss-originated ecto-humus) composed
of slightly decomposed remains of bog moss which accumulate
on poorly drained soils under stands of black spruce. The depth
of organic layer approaches 1 foot. Reaction varies from pH 3.5
to pH 4.2, average content of total carbon is 41.5 per cent, and
that of total nitrogen is 1.06 per cent. Samples collected in
northern Quebec, Canada.
4. Earthworm crumb mull (zoogenous endohumus) developed
by the action of Lumbricidae from morainic silt loams support¬
ing stands of hard maple, basswood, and white elm. This type is
characterized by a thin layer of litter overlying a deep horizon
of earthworm castings, i.e., aggregates of intimately mixed
organic and mineral matter. Samples were collected in the
vicinity of the Marshfield Branch Experiment Station, Univer¬
sity of Wisconsin. The pH value of the sampled layers varied
between 5.3 and 5.7, a rather unusual reaction for this humus
form. The chemical analyses of this type of humus layer were
previously reported by Wilde, Buran, and Galloway (1937) and
by Lafond (1950) .
The microbiological properties of these humus layers were
studied by employing analytical procedures which promised re¬
sults of practical significance. The nitrification capacity was
determined by the phenoldisulphonic acid method after the
samples had been incubated for two weeks (Fred and Waksman,
1928). The rate of decomposition of cellulose and protein was
measured by a modified method of Richard (1945). The tensile
strength of the cellulose and protein cords was determined after
seven-day and fourteen-day incubation, respectively. The effect
of volatile substances on the growth of excised root tips of blue
lupine was determined using the method described by Cholodny
(1948) and Persidsky and Wilde (1953). The membrane filter
technique (Clark, et al, 1951) was employed to determine the pop¬
ulation of aerobic micro-organisms. The colonies were grown on
Albimi M nutrient medium for 72 hours at 23° C. The results of
analyses, presented in Table 1, reveal a sharp picture of the micro¬
biological characteristics of humus layers of different origin.
Arthropod bran mor, in spite of its acid reaction and rather
high C,/N ratio, is an immensely active material ; it is probably
one of the most active humus types of the temperate zone. It
exhibits a very high rate of decomposition of both cellulose and
protein. The volatile substances emanated by this humus produce
a highly stimulatory effect on the growth of excised root tips.
The number of aerobic microorganisms detected on molecular
membrane filters approaches an enormous density of 22 millions
per cc.
1954] Mader — Microbiological Characteristics of Humus 91
w
H-l
M
<1
H
92 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
Moss bog mor, on the other hand, presents a direct contrast to
the arthropod mor. Its extremely acid reaction and high carbon-
nitrogen ratio are correlated with negligible nitrification capac¬
ity and extremely slow rate of cellulose and protein decomposi¬
tion. This type produced no noticeable effect of volatile sub¬
stances on the growth of excised roots, and the number of
detected aerobic microorganisms did not exceed 2 million per cc.
Mycelial matted mor occupies an intermediate position be¬
tween the active and inert mor types. The results of analyses
suggest that this prototype of raw humus, is far from being an
inert material as has been often believed in the past.
Earthworm crumb mull has been usually pictured as the most
active form of humus. Actually it is not vastly different in its
microbiological characteristics from the mycelial mor, and is cer¬
tainly much less active than anthropod mor. The results of
analyses suggest that the development of this type proceeds with
very restricted participation of aerobic organisms.
References
©
Association of Official Agricultural Chemists. 1950. Official and tenta¬
tive methods of analysis. Ed. 7. A. 0. A. C. Wash. D. C.
Cholodny, N. G. 1948. Physiological effect of volatile organic substances on
plants. Proc. Acad. Sci. USSR, 62:825-827.
Clark, H. F., et al. 1951. The membrane filter in sanitary bacteriology.
Public Health Reports 66:951-977.
Fred, E. B. and S. A. Waksman. 1928. Lab. Manual of General Micro¬
biology. First Ed. Pp. 63-65. McGraw-Hill Co., N. Y.
Heiberg, S. O. and R. F. Chandler, Jr. 1941. A revised nomenclature of
forest humus layers for the Northeastern United States. Soil Sci.
32:87-99.
Hoover, M. D. and H. A. Lunt. 1952. A key for the classification of forest
humus types. Soil Sci. Soc. Amer. Proc. 16:368.
Lafond, A. M. 1950. Morphology and specific conductance of forest humus
and their relation to the rate of forest growth in Wisconsin. Trans.
Wis. Acad. Sci. Arts and Lett. 40:207-211.
Mader, D. L. 1953. Physical and chemical characteristics of the major types
of forest humus found in the United States and Canada. Soil Sci. Soc.
Amer. Proc. 17:155-158.
Mueller, P. E. 1887. Studien fiber die natfirlichen Humusformen. Jul.
Springer, Berlin.
Persidsky, D. J. and S. A. Wilde. 1953. The effect of volatile substances
released by soil, humus, and composts on the growth of excised roots.
Plant Phys. (In print).
Richard, F. 1945. Der biologische Abbau von Zellulose und Eiwiess-
Testschnfiren im Boden von Wald und Rasengesellschaften. Mitt. Sweiz.
Anst. Forst. Ver. 24:297-395. Zurich.
Romell, L. G. and S. O. Heiberg. 1931. Types of humus layers in the
forests of Northeastern United States. Ecology 12:567-608.
Wilde, S. A., S. F. Buran and H. M. Galloway. 1937. Nutrient content
and base exchange properties of organic layers of forest soils in the
Lake States region. Soil Sci. 44:231-238.
EVALUATION OF COMPOSTED FERTILIZERS BY
MICROBIOLOGICAL METHODS OF ANALYSIS1
Charles B. Davey2
In the course of fermentation composts undergo progressive
changes during which they increase their microbial population,
narrow the C,/N ratio, lose inhibitory effects, and thus become
nutritive and safe fertilizers. These changes are influenced by a
whole complex of factors and cannot be determined by ocular
examination. Therefore, an attempt was made to detect the de¬
gree of “ripeness” of composts by the determination of several
microbiological characteristics. The rate of cellulose and protein
decomposition was determined by the cord tension method
(Richard, 1945), the consumption of carbohydrates on the basis
of the C,/N ratio (A.O.A.C., 1950), the population of aerobic
organisms by the use of molecular membrane filters (Clark et al.,
1951), and the nature of compost-emitted volatile substances
through the growth of excised root tips (Cholodny, 1951; Per-
sidsky and Wilde, 1954).
The study was conducted with decay resistant sawdust which
was subjected to drastic chemical treatments and inoculated with
a highly effective cellulose-decomposing fungus, Coprinus ephe-
merus (Davey, 1953a; 1953b). The analyses were performed on
composted material in four stages of decomposition: untreated
sawdust, composted for two months; similar sawdust treated
with anhydrous ammonia, potassium sulfate, and phosphoric
acid, ten days after treatment; similar, chemically treated saw¬
dust, inoculated with Coprinus ephemerus , 30 days after inocula¬
tion; and similar chemically treated sawdust, inoculated with
Coprinus ephemerus, 90 days after inoculation. For sake of com¬
parison, analyses included hardwood-hemlock leaf mold which is
known to be a highly active and excellent fertilizer (Wilde,
1937). The microbiological population and effect of volatile sub¬
stances on excised roots were also determined on microbiologi-
cally inactive moss peat.
The results of analyses given in Table 1 indicated that in the
process of fermentation chemically treated sawdust loses its
alkaline reaction and reduces its C,/N ratio. Hand-in-hand, fer¬
mentation greatly stimulates both cellulolytic and proteolytic
1 ‘Contribution from the Soils Department, Wisconsin Agricultural Experiment Sta¬
tion, Madison, Wis., in cooperation with the Wisconsin Conservation Department. Pub¬
lication approved by the Director of the Wisconsin Agricultural Experiment Station.
2 Assistant in Soils, University of Wisconsin. The writer acknowledges the helpful
suggestions of Drs. O. N. Allen and S. A. Wilde.
93
94
Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
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96 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
activity. It increases the population of aerobic organisms, and
removes the inhibitory effects of toxic volatile substances. Judg¬
ing from the results of analysis, fully fermented sawdust com¬
post compares favorably with hardwood-hemlock leaf mold.
Figure 1 shows colonies developed on molecular filter mem¬
branes by 1:5,000 suspensions prepared from different sources.
Figure 2 illustrates the growth of excised roots of blue lupine
under the influence of volatile substances emitted by different
organic materials.
A B C D E F j
Figure 2. Effect of volatile substances emitted by different organic
materials on excised roots of blue lupine: A — distilled water; B — moss
peat; C — hardwood-hemlock leaf mold; D — fresh hard maple sawdust;
E — sawdust treated with anhydrous ammonia and phosphoric acid;
F — fermented .sawdust.
References
1. Association of Official Agricultural Chemists. 1950. Official and
tentative methods of analysis. Ed. 7 A.O.A.C., Washington, D. C.
2. Choldony, N. G. 1951. Soil atmosphere as a source of organic nutrient
substances for plants. Pedology 1:16-29.
3. Clark, H. F. et al. 1951. The membrance filter in sanitary bacteriology.
Public Health Reports 66:951-977.
4. Davey, C. B. 1953. Sawdust composts: their preparation and effect on
plant growth. Soil Sci. Soc. Amer. Proc. 17 : 59-60.
5. - . 1953. Decomposition of hard maple sawdust by treatment with
anhydrous ammonia and inoculation with Coprinus ephemerus. Trans.
Wis. Acad. Sci., Arts, and Letters. 42:177-182.
6. Persidsky, D. J. and Wilde, S. A. 1954. The effect of volatile substances
released by soil, humus, and composts on the growth of excised roots.
Plant Phys. (In print).
7. Richard, F. 1945. Der biologische Abbau von Zellulose — und Eiweiss-
Testschnuren im Boden von Vald — und Rasengesellchaften. Mitt.
Schweiz. Anst. Forst. Vers. 24:297-395. Zurich.
8. Wilde, S. A. 1937. The use of liquid humate fertilizers in forest nurs¬
eries. Jour. For. 35:388-392.
THOMAS CAREW AND THE CAVALIER POETS
Rufus A. Blanshard
English lyric poetry achieved, in the first half of the seven¬
teenth century, a kind of perfection not matched in any other
period. The major figures, Donne, Jonson, Herbert, Marvell,
have been given their due, and even the early Milton has been
invited to join them once again. But it was an age also of very
good minor poetry. Indeed, a look at any anthology of the period
will show that men who were less than great in range or depth
were yet capable of flying high. This is as much as to say that
there were traditions within which poets could perfect their
craft, work out their individual themes without discovering
wholly new mines of invention. Of these minor poets — and
“minor” is not a disparagement in such an age — Thomas Carew
deserves more attention than he has received. Carew is both a
good poet in his own right, and a “typical” poet of his period,
who perhaps would not have done so well if he had lived either
earlier or later. I shall try briefly to indicate, first the inherited,
and then the individual characteristics of his poetry. The latter
—the individual qualities — can best be seen, I think, in com¬
parison with those of three of his contemporaries who are often
grouped with him in critical discussions : the so-called “Cavalier”
poets, Herrick, Suckling, and Lovelace.
First, there is the poetic inheritance, in which the legacy of
Donne is most noticeable. However Dryden, Johnson, and later
critics came to censure or to praise Donne for his “metaphysical”
wit, Carew openly avowed his discipleship in the best piece of
Donne criticism of the seventeenth century, the Elegie. The fol¬
lowing passage has not been improved upon as a statement of
Donne’s originality, force, and toughness. It is a comparison of
Donne with the ancients:
Thou shalt yield no precedence, but of time,
And the blinde fate of language, whose tun’d chime
More charmes the outward sense ; Yet thou maist claime
From so great disadvantage greater fame,
Since to the awe of thy imperious wit
Our stubborne language bends, made only fit
With her tough-thick-rib’d hoopes to gird about
Thy Giant phansie, which had prov’d too stout
97
98 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
For their soft melting Phrases. As in time
They had the start, so did they cull the prime
Buds of invention many a hundred yeare,
And left the rifled fields, besides the feare
To touch their Harvest, yet from those bare lands
Of what is purely thine, thy only hands
(And that thy smallest worke) have gleaned more
Than all those times, and tongues could reape before.
The passage itself is Donnian, and the many echoes of Donne
throughout Carew’s poetry attest to the sincerity of the praise.
Knowing that he could not mimic Donne too closely in paradox¬
ical wit, or in startling conceits, or especially in the rhetorical
wrenching of rhythm to fit the thought, Carew yet assimilated
some of the tone and some of the force of Donne’s innovations.
What he learned from Donne was to probe, explore, question,
ring changes on the old conceits. Even apart from what he called
Donne’s “Mine of rich and pregnant phansie,” which he tapped
as often as most of Donne’s followers, Carew found congenial the
Donnian intellectual attitudes toward love in the Songs and
Sonnets and the Elegies. His longest, best, and least printable
poem, A Rapture, was called by Professor Grierson “the most
daring and poetically the happiest of the imitations of Donne’s
clever if outrageous elegies.” There is time here for only a
smaller, and in fact a more typical, lyric which shows the influ¬
ence. Ingrateful beauty threatened reflects the chiding attitude
of Donne’s Elegie VII, adapted to Carew’s own ends and talents:
Know Celia, (since thou are so proud,)
’Twas I that gave thee thy renowne :
Thou hadst, in the forgotten crowd
Of common beauties, liv’d unknowne,
Had not my verse exhal’d thy name,
And with it, ympt the wings of fame.
That killing power is none of thine,
I gave it to thy voice, and eyes :
Thy sweets, thy graces, all are mine ;
Thou art my starre, shin’st in my skies ;
Then dart not from thy borrowed sphere
Lightning on him, that fixt thee there.
Tempt me with such affrights no more,
Lest what I made, I uncreate ;
Let fooles thy mystique formes adore,
Pie know thee in thy mortall state :
Wise Poets that wrap’t Truth in tales,
Knew here themselves, through all her vailes.
1954]
Blanshard — Thomas Carew
99
But the differences are as striking as the similarities. Here is
the closing passage of Donne’s Elegie:
Thy graces and good words my creatures bee ;
I planted knowledge and lifes tree in thee,
Which Oh, shall strangers taste? Must I alas
Frame and enamell Plate, and drinke in Glasse ?
Chafe waxe for others seales? breake a colts force
And leave him then, beeing made a ready horse ?
There the poem ends, not, one feels, for want of other means
to illustrate the relationship, but because an additional metaphor
would be anticlimactic after that last one. Carew’s movement is
less nervous, his imagery less audacious. Beside his delicately
ironic conclusion, Donne’s “ready horse” produces a brutal shock,
not only because it is a horse, but also because it is a complete
departure from the images which led up to it.
Partly responsible for these differences is the other influence
which I want to touch on, the influence of Ben Jonson. The
“hostility” of the two schools has been over-emphasized in later
criticism. It should not be forgotten that Jonson, though he cen¬
sured Donne’s rhythms, called him “the best poet in the world in
some things.” Jonson’s lyrics, as different as they are from
Donne’s in both motivation and effect, are written in a mode
opposed, like Donne’s, to softness of sentiment and flaccidity of
expression. Both poets put a premium on intellect in poetry, if
Jonson did not believe in charting so minutely as Donne the fits
and starts of the mind.
But that “if” is a key to the (often deceptive) simplicity of
many Caroline lyrics, among them some of Carew’s best. “Pure
and neat language I love,” wrote Jonson in Discoveries, “yet
plaine and customary. A barbarous Phrase hath often made mee
out of love with a good sense ; and doubtful writing hath wrackt
mee beyond my patience.” As a poet-critic, Jonson generally
practices what he preaches. He usually has something fairly
straightforward to say, and says it with clarity and precision.
Jonson’s careful attention to form and decorum, his distaste for
tortured and obscure displays of wit, his solid classical learning,
his control of tone and idea, set a critical and practical standard
comparable to Dryden’s in its authority. It is a discipline that
leaves its mark not mainly on separate lines and passages, nor
on individual attitudes toward subject matter, but on the artistic
integrity of complete poems. Carew, as we might expect, has
fewer “echoes” of Jonson than of Donne. A conceit or a pose
picked up from Donne, however, may be simplified, stripped of
some of its overtones, and fitted into a more regular pattern of
100 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
sound and thought; and the result may remind one as much of
Jonson as the detail recalls Donne. As a single example in the
amorous vein (Carew’s chief vein), one thinks of Carew’s “Aske
me no more,” which achieves a kind of lyric perfection similar to
that of Jonson’s “Drinke to me, onely, with thine eyes.” Not that
the thought isn’t partly “metaphysical,” but that the form, the
tone, the total impact of the poem combine to prevent the mind
from wandering into what Dryden impatiently called “nice
speculations of philosophy.”
That the two influences were not “hostile” may be seen in
Carew’s epitaph on Maria Wentworth.
And here the precious dust is layd ;
Whose purely-tempered Clay was made
So fine, that it the guest betray’d.
Else the soule grew so fast within,
It broke the outward shell of sinne
And so was hatch’d a Cherubin.
In heigth, it soar’d to God above ;
In depth, it did to knowledge move,
And spread in breadth to generall love.
Before, a pious duty shind,
To Parents, courtesie behind,
On either side an equall mind,
Good to the Poore, to kindred deare,
To servants kind, to friendship cleare,
To nothing but her selfe, severe.
So though a Virgin, yet a Bride
To every Grace, she justifi’d
A chaste Poligamie, and dy’d.
Learne from hence (Reader) what small trust
We owe this world, where vertue must
Fraile as our flesh, crumble to dust.
F. R. Leavis has rightly called attention to the double influence
here. Donne and Jonson, if they had collaborated to celebrate
Maria Wentworth, could not have done better.
What is left, it might be asked, that is uniquely Carew’s? If
he owed so much to Donne and to Jonson, not to speak of the
Elizabethan sonneteers, the classical amorists, and the conti¬
nental concettists, can he be said to have had any individual
characteristics? The mere posing of the question reminds us of
1954]
Blanshard— Thomas Carew
101
the homogeneity, and at the same time of the eclecticism, of so
much seventeenth-century poetry: it would be very difficult to
identify the author of many a fine lyric in the manuscript anthol¬
ogies of the time, which somehow does not seem to be less good
for being “typical.” But Carew, in his best poems, is a little more
than merely “typical.” It seems to me that he stands slightly
apart from his “traditions,” and from his contemporaries who
shared them, in three respects: in the careful working out of
single metaphors, in the logical persuasiveness of argument, and
in the combined variety and smoothness of rhythm. I say “stands
slightly apart” because I do not wish to claim for Carew quali¬
ties which no other poets had, especially in an age when just
these qualities were prized so highly; I mean that in his best
poems Carew exploited them more consistently than any of his
contemporaries.
The third quality, which I have called combined variety and
smoothness of rhythm, is more easily heard than analyzed. The
way Carew “overflows” his couplets, shifts has caesuras, reverses
occasional feet for momentary cross-patterns — and yet does all
this subtly so as not to violate the basic form but to give it flexi¬
bility and strength — this is the way of a poet whose ear is finely
attuned to the special “music” of the lyric.
The other two qualities, the powers of metaphorical elabora¬
tion and logical persuasiveness, are found in varying degrees:
a long poem like To A. L. Perswasions to love reveals Carew’s
argumentative skill as equal to Marvell’s in To his Coy Mistress,
which it anticipates in many respects ; while some of the shorter
pieces give Carew his best opportunity to develop a single image
or a cluster of images. This last skill seems to me the most impor¬
tant distinguishing feature of Carew’s power, and it can be illus¬
trated briefly by a quotation of one of his little epitaphs on the
child Mary Villers.
The purest Soule that e’re was sent
Into a clayie tenement
Inform’d this dust, but the weake mold
Could the great guest no longer hold,
The substance was too pure, the flame
Too glorious that thither came :
Ten thousand Cupids brought along
A Grace on each wing, that did throng
For place there, till they all opprest
The seat in which they sought to rest ;
So the fair Modell broke, for want
Of roome to lodge th’ Inhabitant.
102 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
The whole poem is a sustained conceit. The appropriateness of
the conceit is that it fits a child, and at the same time draws an
ageless contrast between the immortal soul and its earthly
resting-place. The words stick precisely to this conceit: tene¬
ment, guest, place, seat, rest, room, lodge, inhabitant. The body
is too frail and the soul too great, but it is mainly the “want of
roome,” since she was only a child, that broke the “weake mold.”
Greatness of soul in a child, a hyperbolic notion, is strangely and
aptly made believable by equating it, still more hyperbolically in
one sense, with an infinite number (twenty thousand!) of tiny
graces belonging to the tiny child of Venus; whereas it would
have been outrageous to compare her outright with Venus her¬
self. And so the soul is finally exalted without detracting from
the purity of the substance which temporarily contained it.
With these characteristics in mind, I should like to suggest a
few points of comparison with the three Cavalier poets, Herrick,
Suckling, and Lovelace.
Herrick and Carew both polished their poems, Herrick with a
sharp eye on publication:
Better ’twere my Book were dead,
Then to live not perfected.
But they polished to different purposes. Herrick’s sense of form
might almost be equated with the title of one of his best poems,
Delight in Disorder. A kind of esthetic theory may be read into
the poem itself : “A sweete disorder . . . An erring Lace . . . Doe
more bewitch me, then when Art/ Is too precise in every part.”
What is prized is not natural simplicity, but a calculated “wan¬
tonness” (to use another favorite word of Herrick’s). If a word
or a phrase catches the ear or eye partly because it does not quite
fit into the usual pattern, or calls up another image than the one
immediately in question, or rolls “winningly” on the tongue inde¬
pendent of its logical function, it is not very different from the
“lawne . . . thrown / Into a fine distraction.” For example, the
final couplet of Upon Sylvia, a Mistress does not “follow” from
the images of the rest, but it is worth all the rest :
Upon thy Forme more wrinkles yet will fall
And coming downe, shall make no noise at all.
Carew has few such flashes; Herrick specializes in them. He
relies much more than Carew on sensuous impressions :
Numbers ne’r tickle, or but lightly please,
Unlesse they have some wanton carriages.
1954]
Blanshard- — Thomas Carew
103
Herrick is tickled by sights and smells, and tickles the senses of
his readers in turn. No other poet has responded with such palpi¬
tations to feminine clothes. It is a sensitivity to surface things
which has its obverse in the unreflective coarseness of some of
his epigrams. He never introduced a love-scene, as Carew did in
A Rapture, with “No curtaine there, though of transparent
lawne” ; for him, the lawn was as thrilling as the flesh.
The connotative richness of Herrick’s language has been noted
by F. W. Bateson, who spoke of “the vague splendour” of The
Primrose. The word “Infanta” in the second line is partly re¬
sponsible for this impression: “This sweet Infanta of the yeere.”
The word was added by Herrick for the final version ; an earlier
version (which incidentally appeared in the 1640 edition of
Carew’s Poems) began with this couplet:
Aske me why I send you here,
This firstling of the infant yeare.
The change is away from precision, toward exotic association.
This kind of suggestiveness is akin to Herrick’s interest in sen¬
suous impressions. He is seldom systematic, in the sense in which
Carew, in To A. L. Perswasions to love , is systematic. His lovers’
complaints are generally more pathetic than prophetic. The
warning theme of The cruell Maid is sandwiched between an
apologetic introduction and a more or less inconsequent conclu¬
sion asking for a tear and a kiss of pity over his tomb. To
Dianeme is more single-minded, but there are noticeable differ¬
ences between its pathetic argument and Carew’s marshalling of
unanswerable “points.” Herrick’s single line, “Sunk from the tip
of your soft ear,” conveys more melting affection than the whole
poem cancels; while Carew’s details of beauty are grudgingly
listed and effectually belittled, as by a man always on his guard.
Again, to take another poetic cliche of the day, the rose in the
mistress’s bosom : Carew’s On a Damaske rose rises to a kind of
devotional eloquence, while Herrick’s Upon Roses, for all its
“flowrie Nunnery,” appeals primarily to the senses. If Carew’s
poem is the more commonplace, Herrick’s is the slighter. Both
poets recognized their limitations, Carew in his modest tributes
to other poets (such as the elegy on Donne), Herrick in such
disarming lines as these:
A little streame best fits a little Boat ;
A little lead best fits a little Float ;
As my small Pipe best fits my little note.
The other two poets, Suckling and Lovelace, do not challenge
Carew in his special qualities. They share with him the urbanity
104 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
of the courtier, but not the consistency of the artist. Both are
comparatively careless poets, though in different ways. Suckling,
who chided Carew’s “hard-bound muse,” is most characteristi¬
cally a cynical amorist whose cynicism extends to matters of
craftsmanship. His conversational style, which recommended
itself to the Restoration inheritors of the “Cavalier” tradition, is
suited to his careless tones and his scoffing attitudes. His
rhythms seem at times improvised; his lines do not always
rhyme; and his colloquial, parenthetical padding works for the
same effect, as though he composed quickly, brilliantly (perhaps
with “given” rhymes), for a wager. There is a natural grace,
which is seldom sustained through a whole poem. He uses meta¬
phor much less than Carew, and does not develop a poem around
it but brings it in by way of exemplum, which may be broken off
or shifted at random to suit his whim. When he does, rarely,
develop a figure, as in Love’s World, the development is pedes¬
trian, as though he were concentrating more than he liked on
writing a consistent poem:
The sea’s my mind, which calm would be,
Were it from winds (my passions) free;
But out alas ! no sea I find
Is troubled like a lover’s mind.
At other times, and more characteristically, he frankly aban¬
dons the attempt to be “poetic,” and carries off the failure by
throwing the whole problem overboard. The humor saves him,
but when he is following Donne, as in “I prithee send me back
my heart,” the failure to sustain the intellectual effort is not
amusing. Suckling admired Donne as much as Carew did, and
echoed Carew’s praise of the monarch of wit. But, though neither
poet matched Donne in intellectual or metaphorical complexity,
Carew’s poetic fancy comes closer to the wit of the master than
Suckling’s, if Suckling’s cynical humor is an easier and more
immediately recognizable substitute.
The carelessness of Lovelace is not, like Suckling’s, a product
of indifference, but of curiosity. Professor R. C. Bald has said
that, of the three, Carew, Suckling and Lovelace, the last is “the
least naturally a metaphysical poet.” It is true that his best-
known poems, which are also his best — To Lucasta, Going to the
Warres, and To Althea, From Prison — reduce paradox to the
simplest terms; but it is not clear, judging from the relative
paucity of such poems in his canon, that this simplicity was
“natural” to him. His range is wide, and in all his variety he
exhibits a strong wit of the kind carried to extremes by Cleve¬
land and deplored by Doctor Johnson. Perhaps it is fruitless to
1954]
Blanshard— Thomas Carew
105
speculate which is the more natural, the wit or the simplicity;
but his wit is certainly more “metaphysical” than either Suck¬
ling’s or Carew’s. In these lines from Love made in the first Age:
to Chloris , a poem which in many ways parallels A Rapture,
there is a grotesque ingenuity unlike Carew’s most contrived
bee-simile :
Then unconfined each did Tipple
Wine from the Bunch, Milk from the Nipple,
Paps tractable as Udders were ;
Then equally the wholsome Jellies,
Were squeez’d from Olive-Trees, and Bellies,
Nor Suits of Trespasse did they fear.
Lovelace often wanders beyond the limits imposed by his sub¬
ject, and the reader may lose interest before the poet does. There
is a lack of tightness in the longer poems, and a multiplicity of
images, which recall Donne. The active imagination is closer to
Donne’s in its working than Carew’s or Suckling’s, in spite of
the wide gap between his and Donne’s powers of psychological
and philosophical penetration.
Lovelace’s facility of invention, however, does not prevent a
few of his poems from revealing a serious vein of honor and
chivalry which Carew never matches. If Carew had lived into
the decade of the civil wars (he died in 1639), he might have
developed into a more active and less decorous royalist; and if
he had been imprisoned, as Lovelace was, he might have written
a poem to Celia from prison, thus adding to the very small col¬
lection of poems which suggest, as Professor Grierson has said,
“what ‘Cavalier’ came to mean when glorified by defeat.”
There is undoubtedly a certain “decay of feeling” in much
Caroline verse, and two poets as different as Habington and
Cleveland manifest the extent to which convention, be it tearful
or witty, eventually dries up. Both of these poets have something
in common with Carew — Habington in the adoption of the time¬
worn symbols of the love poetry of the previous century, Cleve¬
land in the extravagant and intellectualized wit of the Donne
tradition. Yet Carew is generally free of the completely common¬
place, as he is of the completely fantastic. He re-informs the old
conceits with new meanings, creates ironic contexts for the
expression of traditional attitudes, and argues or pleads with a
combination of grace and ingenuity that disguises platitude.
THE GROWTH OF PSYCHOLOGY WITH SOME PRESENT
IMPLICATIONS AND ATTENDANT PROBLEMS
Cyril C. O’Brien
Since the first psychological laboratory was founded by Wundt
at Leipzig in 1879, psychology has made tremendous strides not
only in the extent and variety of curricular offerings in the col¬
leges and universities throughout the United States, but also in
the increasing numbers of psychologists working in the fields
of applied psychology.
In the latter instance three broad areas have evolved and are
being defined, viz., clinical psychology, industrial psychology,
and counseling and guidance. What the ultimate picture will be
with respect to the alignment of specific, applied disciplines is
a major problem for careful prognosis besides one which involves
considerable conjecture.
At the present time the American Psychological Association
has seventeen divisions, which in certain cases overlap to some
extent, but on the whole are distinct in their respective settings.
The mere mention of the Divisions of General Psychology (Div.
1), Teaching of Psychology (Div. 2), Experimental Psychology
(Div. 3), Evaluation and Measurement (Div. 5), Childhood and
Adolescence (Div. 7), Personality and Social Psychology (Div.
8), The Society for the Psychological Studies of Social Issues
(Div. 9), Esthetics (Div. 10), Clinical and Abnormal Psychology
(Div. 12), Consulting Psychology (Div. 13), Industrial and Busi¬
ness Psychology (Div. 14), Educational Psychology (Div. 15),
School Psychologists (Div. 16), Counseling and Guidance (Div.
17), Psychologists in Public Service (Div. 18), Military Psy¬
chology (Div. 19), and the Division of Maturity and Old Age
(Div. 20), gives one some idea of the present ramifications and
specialization in the field. The American genius for analysis,
classification and delimitation of subject matter is demonstrated
in the strong trends towards thorough training in specific dis¬
ciplines. In this respect American psychology is different from
European psychology of the present day, which, while giving-
evidence of continued growth and virility, has not shown the
vast expansion characteristic of American psychological research
and application.
107
108 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
There are at least 12,000 legitimate psychologists in the nation
today. The majority of these — about 11,000 — are members of the
American Psychological Association. Barring a catastrophe like
a major war, a conservative estimate of the number of APA
members by 1960 would be about 20,000. The prestige of psy¬
chology is rising. Accompanying its heightened values, however,
is also an increase in the number of pseudo-psychologists, who
are attempting to ride the crest of the wave. At present there are
no available national figures of those in this latter category.
Suffice it is to say that they continue to prey on many unsuspect¬
ing sincere people, who seek help for their problems of a varied
and oftentimes complicated nature. Exaggerated promises on the
part of such charlatans have challenged on occasions the work of
the trained psychologist. At times their failure to live up to such
claims have even brought discredit upon legitimate psychological
endeavour through the fact of suggestion and association alone.
In the rising tide of increased psychological activity have also
come those who are inadequately prepared for the tasks con¬
fronting them. Bona fide psychologists themselves have felt a
need for a set of ethical standards for their profession. The
growth of psychology within recent years has been so rapid that
relationships involving the profession, its members, and clients,
require clarification. Many situations among psychologists and
their activities are not ethical in nature, but are concerned with
courtesy, diplomacy, and etiquette.
Two immediate, pressing problems associated with the growth
and development of psychology are the ever-present “quackery”
in the field and the resulting need for protection of the public by
means of a careful process of certification. Although difficult to
attain, licensing can be handled successfully at the State level.
Connecticut, Minnesota, Georgia, and other states have certifi¬
cation laws for psychologists. The American Psychological Asso¬
ciation through the American Board of Examiners in Profes¬
sional Psychology has set up standards in the areas of clinical,
industrial, and counseling and guidance. These promise to be an
effective means of helping to discourage charlatanism and inade¬
quate preparation for a professional career in psychology. The
national organization through the ABEPP is concerned solely
with the competence and character of the individual psychologist.
Two states list citizenship as a requirement for certification as a
psychologist.
Just as the unethical or “quack” doctor or unscrupulous psy¬
chiatrist may inflict psychological damage through his being
1954]
O'Brien — Growth of Psychology
109
morally unfit or professionally unprepared for dealing with the
normal and abnormal deviations of personality traits, so also,
the untrained, unethical, or pseudo-psychologist can do likewise.
The American Psychological Association is fully aware of its
responsibilities and in the mid-month of April of 1953 issued a
monograph entitled, Ethical Standards of Psychologists, a pro¬
visional set of standards to be tried for a three-year period. A
revision is then planned, after which all Association members
will have an opportunity of voting on all the completely revised
principles.
The Committee on Ethical Standards for Psychology, in
organizing the many ideas and specific cases and formulating
statements by members of the APA, have classified all such con¬
siderations in psychology into six main divisions as follows:
Ethical Standards and Public Responsibility
Ethical Standards in Client Relationships
Ethical Standards in Teaching
Ethical Standards in Research
Ethical Standards in Writing and Publishing-
Ethical Standards in Professional Relationships
Each division lists many kinds of problems followed by specific
incidents illustrating the problems. Then, there is enunciated the
particular ethical principle involved. Using the same sequence
of presentation, I shall give an example for each main division
with one specific incident drawn from personal experience. The
statements of the problem and the ethical principles are the
result of the efforts of the APA Committee.
i
Problem— Public Responsibility
“In offering professional services, does it make any differ¬
ence to whom the psychologist sells his skill or how he carries
out an assignment so long as he satisfies the customer?”
Incident
As a consulting psychologist I was approached by the head
of a firm to design a test for screening and measuring em¬
ployees for their attitudes and esprit-de-corps in the shops. It
was suggested by the executive as a means of saving time that
the employees answer the items of the test in their own homes.
I explained to the man why such an approach was unaccept¬
able and why I could not accede to his request.
110 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
The ethical principle enumerated by the APA for such a
case reads:
Principle
“As a practitioner the psychologist should strive at all times
to maintain highest standards in the services he offers. Be¬
cause the psychologist in his work may touch intimately the
lives of others, he bears a heavy social responsibility, of which
he should ever be cognizant.”
Problem— Client Relationships
“As the public has learned more about psychology and as
large numbers of people are trained in the field, there are
increasing possibilities of incidents involving clinical and con¬
sulting activities in inappropriate settings and with unpro¬
fessional intent.”
Incident
A psychologist who was employed by a college for teaching
certain courses used his influence to obtain clients from the
students in his classes to go to him with any problem, for
which service, a fee was paid in each case. The conduct was all
the more reprehensible, inasmuch as there were at this college
services set up and designed for counseling and guiding
students.
Principle
“The misuse of the clinical or consulting relationship for
profit, for power or prestige, or for personal gratifications not
consonant with concern for the welfare of the client, is
unethical.”
Problem — Teaching
“The existence of specialties and schools within the field of
psychology results in differences in points of view and in eval¬
uations, which are often confusing to students and to the
public. They are sometimes actually harmful in the narrow¬
ness which they produce in students, who are exposed to one
point of view in such a way as to bias them against other fields
or approaches, which might provide them with valuable ideas
and data.”
1954]
O’Brien — Growth of Psychology
111
Incident
A teacher of psychology in a nearby institution frequently
forces the students to accept only a neo-Freudian interpreta¬
tion of psychological situations with which many students dif¬
fered. One student felt that if he did not subscribe to the
opinions of the instructor, he would receive a lower grade than
he deserved or perhaps be failed in the course. Apparently, a
subtle case of intimidation.
Principle
“As differing schools of, and approaches to the field of psy¬
chology are supported by competent and ethical psychologists,
they should be presented to students in such a way as to
encourage them to study the relevant facts and draw their own
conclusions.”
Problem— Research
“A number of questions about the interpretation and use of
research findings are settled in the way the research is
planned, conducted, and reported.”
Incident
An instructor in psychology, who had a unique problem and
an original approach to it was asked by a colleague if he might
study the manuscript for a short time. After a lapse of one
month, the instructor requested that it be returned. The col¬
league gave many excuses, but finally after four more months
gave it to the instructor, who then had it submitted and later
published in a psychological journal. This colleague unneces¬
sarily delayed the publication of worthwhile findings.
Principle
“As a scientist, the psychologist is expected whenever pos¬
sible to communicate the results of his research to other in¬
vestigators, provided he judges the results to be of value for
the development of psychology as a science or for the welfare
of the public.”
Problem — Writing and Publications
“The most common cause of ethical concern in publication
is the apportioning and indicating of credit for authorship.”
1 12 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
Incident
In one of his classes a department chairman received a stu¬
dent’s research paper, which had publication possibilities. The
student had put many hours of work on the project of his own
choosing and involving entirely his own efforts. A few months
after the student had handed the paper to the professor, he
saw it published verbatim under the professor’s name in a pro¬
fessional journal. A lawyer friend of his suggested he seek
redress of the injustice. Since he expected his degree at the
end of the semester, he feared some retaliatory measured and
declined to take action.
Principle
“Credit should be assigned to all those who have contributed
to a publication, in proportion to their contributions, and only
to these; and the nature of the contribution (e.g., research
design, collection of data, writing) should be made clear.”
6.
Problem— Professional Relationships
“High standards of conduct in professional relationships are
as essential as professional competence, if psychology is to
retain the confidence of related professions and of the public.”
Incident
A teacher of psychology with some sphere of influence con¬
stantly engages in stifling the professional growth of his col¬
leagues through misrepresentation, subtle disparagement, and
belittling the activities of certain professional workers.
Principle
“It is the duty of psychologists to keep professional rela¬
tionships on a mature, professional level and not to engage in
petty, personal actions demeaning to themselves and to the
profession.”
The foregoing represent only a few of the great variety of
problems associated with the practice and malpractice of psy¬
chology. Psychologists believe that with respect to ethical con¬
siderations on the average, they are probably no better or worse
than individuals in other professions. Since at present there are
no comparative, adequate studies of an objective nature on this
point, one can only estimate and conjecture about the extent of
professional misdemeanours.
1954]
O’Brien— Growth of Psychology
113
Psychologists are convinced, however, that open and candid
discussion of unethical conduct can merit a gain in public confi¬
dence rather than rebuke, even though many individuals in other
professions prefer to discuss such deviations from accepted
behavior, only in camera.
The growth of psychology with its concomitant activity has
evoked other reactions. The American Medical Association has
recently taken the stand that clinical psychologists have no right
to practice psychotherapy independently, and psychotherapy
must be subordinate to medicine. Although many clinical psy¬
chologists today work in co-operation with psychiatrists, the
American Psychiatric Association has recently stressed that psy¬
chotherapy is the domain of medical practice. A bill introduced
in February, 1953 in the New York State Legislature defined
medicine as “the diagnosis and treatment of all physical and
mental conditions.” The bill would bring psychotherapy entirely
within the confines of medicine. Owing to the difficulty of de¬
fining adequately such words as “treatment” and “mental condi¬
tions” it is probable that the bill will not be passed, but the
trends of the time are clear. Fillmore H. Sanford, Secretary of
the American Psychological Association, in the April, 1953 issue
of the American Psychologist gives a clear espousal of the
present, apparent impasse.
There are many thousands of persons in various professions,
who now utilize psychotherapy in varying degrees in helping
bring relief to troubled minds. Must the recipients of the pres¬
ently effective work being accomplished through psychotherapy
by non-medical individuals, such as clergymen, social workers,
psychologists, Alcoholics Anonymous members, and the like be
denied help? One may take the twelfth step work of A. A. mem¬
bers as a specific example. A.A. has developed a brand of psy¬
chotherapy, which has resulted in the rehabilitation of more than
100,000 alcoholics. Using their own psychotherapeutic approach,
A.A. has accomplished in fifteen years what some have failed to
achieve in two hundred years.
There is a crying need today for psychological help. Many
mental institutions are understaffed. Scores of people with minor
emotional disturbances or maladjustments seek assistance. With
the great shortage of psychiatrists, to whom can they turn? If
the legitimately trained, clinical psychologist is seriously re¬
stricted in his functions, no doubt many people will patronize
the charlatans in the field. In New York State alone it is esti¬
mated there are about 25,000 catering to the gullible. Psycholo¬
gists will agree that their training does not qualify them to
114 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
practice medicine. But they will be the first to disagree to a
domination and monopoly by any one professional group of the
areas of psychological and social spheres of action.
Today, there are at least 200,000 physicians in the nation —
twenty times the present number of all types of psychologists —
or at least fifty times the numbers of psychologists employed in
applied psychology. At present applied psychology would not
appear to be a threat to medicine. It can and should be one of its
greatest allies. There is a real shortage of M.D.’s in many sec¬
tions of the nation, although the proportion on a national basis
is one doctor to every 850 people. At the present rate of medical
training, the prognosis for the year 1960 (President’s Commis¬
sion on the Health Needs of the Nation) will be a shortage of
22,000 doctors with the national census estimate about 171
million population.
Psychologists certainly cannot take the place of physicians,
but a smoothly working, co-professional recognition will aid
materially in easing the maladjustments of a great many, who
will need only some form of psychotherapy. A multi-discipline
approach would seem to be a sensible one. If psychotherapy be¬
comes the sole prerogative of medicine numerous cases now and
in the years to come will be deprived of much needed help.
Fillmore H. Sanford expresses the present antipathy between
medicine and psychology — or more specifically — between the
American Medical Association, the American Psychiatric Asso¬
ciation and members of the profession of psychology, in these
words :
Since psychology has an enforcible code of ethics, and
since there are adequate laws relating to fraud and dam¬
ages, psychologists see no basis for the feeling that the
practice of clinical psychology by competent individuals will
be detremental to public welfare. Psychologists are not
likely to take kindly to any real or apparent steps on the
part of any other profession to police or supervise profes¬
sional activities of psychologists. Making psychology ancil¬
lary to medicine in the field of mental health will be seen as
no more reasonable than making the psychology professor
an assistant to the professor of physiology or of making the
professor of theology ancillary to the professor of psychol¬
ogy. Few will be able to see how the establishment of pro¬
fessional or scientific hierarchies will contribute either to
public welfare or to the advancement of knowledge.
The Secretary has appended a final addendum to his article,
which reads:
1954]
O'Brien — Growth of Psychology
115
On March 30 it appeared likely, as a result of recent con¬
versations between the two APA’s, that several officers of
each Association would sit down under a “cease fire”
arrangement and seek further for amicable and rational
ways of settling the present points of disagreement between
psychology and psychiatry.
Let us hope that they accomplish their objectives. If they fail
in their purpose and subsequent meetings on the matter do not
bring agreement, then truly, the clock would be set back many
years. The turn of events during the next year or two will be
awaited with interest.
Bibliography
1. Directory. American Psychological Association. 1951.
2. Ethical Standards of Psychologists. APA. April, 1953.
3. Sanford, Fillmore, H., “Relations With Psychiatry”. The American
Psychologist, Vol. 8, No. 4 (April, 1953), pp. 169-173.
4. World Almanac. New York World Telegram. 1953.
A GEOLOGIST’S POINT OF VIEW ON APPRECIATION
OF OUR SURROUNDINGS
Katherine Greacen Nelson
Milwaukee — Downer College
Many a textbook on Elementary Geology opens with a state¬
ment relating geology to the other sciences. It seems to me that
we can also find some interesting relationships with arts and
letters. Perhaps I am prejudiced, but it seems to me that geology
is the science which relates best to a great number of other fields.
It draws on all the materials of the earth — the very stuff which
the sciences study — the ground from which Man and his arts and
letters have sprung.
How did Art begin ? I don’t pretend to know the answer, but it
is not difficult to visualize Primitive Man tracing lines in sand
and shaping rough stones; to guess the temptation to mark
stones or cavern walls when soft, vivid rocks and minerals were
found, such as hematite and limonite — red and yellow ochres —
or to use bits of chalk or coal in this same manner. Stonecutters
and brickmakers were among the early artisans, taking the mate¬
rials they had and putting them to use. Others, more skilled and
inventive, chipped or carved stones into the beginnings of sculp¬
ture, or molded the clay into representations that may have been
less useful than brick, but which are an early art. I presume
these beginnings of Art antedated the rise of Letters by some
time — yet were not these attempts to represent something that
had been seen, ancestral to a written language? Picture-writing
and other methods of writing on stone and on clay tablets came
before the use of papyrus and long before the development of
paper.
Even earlier, perhaps, there arose the legends which were
handed down by word of mouth for generations before someone
wrote them down. And what were these early legends about?
How does the Bible begin? You may not consider the story of
Creation as geology — but certainly it represents the wondering
of mankind about his surroundings — the seeking for an answer
to questions that have not yet been solved satisfactorily. We find
stories seeking to solve this matter of the Origin of the Earth
and of Man among all primitive peoples. It is a thought of fore¬
most importance to all— Where did we come from? How long has
there been an Earth? How does it happen to be here, able to
support life? And how unique is this situation?
117
118 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
This interest in Man and the Earth has been constant. Yet,
with all the search for gold, iron, salt and other mineral products
of early importance; with the sailing of seas and mapping of
coastal lands ; with the selection of road sites and the search for
mountain passes — the development of geology as a true science
is considered to be relatively recent. It is interesting to note that
one of the earliest men to think and write along the lines of
modern scientific geology was Leonardo da Vinci — great man in
so many fields. It was he who first recognized the true signifi¬
cance of finding marine fossils high above sea level, and insisted
that they were evidence of ancient life and that the rocks in
which they were found must have been deposited beneath the
sra. even though they might now be parts of mountain tops.
How many casual observers of today would reason that way
for themselves, if they had not already picked up rudiments of
such knowledge? How much more fully they could appreciate
some of the things they see, if instructed a little more in the
processes at work on the crust and in the interior of the earth !
Most of us today recognize the tremendous value of science to
modern civilization. Some feel that perhaps there is too much
stress on science and technology as all important — that our sense
of values may be lost as too much faith is placed in these false
gods. Arts and letters, being older than modern science, have
long standing as cultural studies. They, along with religion and
philosophy, are the counter-balance against a machine-type civil¬
ization, But science is by no means all machines, and in addition
to its technical and economic values, it may also have definitely
cultural aspects.
From what do we derive pleasure and satisfaction as adults?
Partly from hobbies, partly from snorts, and to a large extent
from what we might call the cultural pursuits— such things as
art, music, literature, the theatre, the dance, lectures, travel;
often by means of radio, television and motion pictures. Geology
mav well fit into any of these three categories. Many have made
a hobby of collecting and identifying fossils, minerals and rocks
— in fact, this is frequently the hobby for a whole family. Thou¬
sands of others are especially interested in the cutting and pol¬
ishing of stones, which may combine an interest in both geology
and art, along with technical skill. In sports, there are those who
walk for the pleasure of the exercise alone, but how much more
interesting hiking can be if done with the viewing and studying
of nature, at the same time. One of the most exciting sports is
mountain-climbing, which by its very nature demands some
study of geologic conditions in advance, and very probably adds
a great deal more to the understanding of the climber in the
1954] Nelson — Geologists' Appreciation of Surroundings 119
appearance of rocks and landforms, the action of frost on rocks,
the accumulation of talus slopes, and the basic structure of moun¬
tains. Travel may or may not be undertaken for cultural and
recreational purposes. Even if traveling is done for purely utili¬
tarian reasons, in the course of one's business, the opening of the
traveler’s eyes to the geological bases of what he sees should
make the trip more enjoyable and give him interesting new
knowledge.
There are those who pick up these prizes of nature without
instruction from others. One of these was Hugh Miller, the Eng¬
lish quarryman whose book “The Old Red Sandstone” is consid¬
ered one of geology’s few real contributions to classic literature.
His account of his first day at work — of the change from his
heavy heart at starting his “life of labour and restraint” to one
of wonder and amazement as ancient ripples and mud-cracks
were uncovered in the rocks of the quarry — is well worth read¬
ing. He saw and was fascinated by what he saw. How many of us
look about with unseeing eyes? Perhaps there are some who will
never see the wonders of nature, even when taken by the hand
and shown them, because people do differ — but instruction can
help most of us to see more clearly and to appreciate what we
look at.
Many of us enjoy things without truly appreciating them. Few
would deny that music, art, literature and scenery can be enjoyed
without special training. What is the difference between enjoy¬
ment and appreciation? According to the American College Dic¬
tionary, enjoyment is “the possession, use or occupancy of any¬
thing with satisfaction or pleasure” ; to enjoy is “1. to experience
with joy; take pleasure in. 2. to have and use with satisfaction;
have the benefit of.” These all involve pleasure — perhaps even
rapturous pleasure — but not, necessarily, understanding and
judgment. On the other hand, the meaning of appreciation is
given as “1. act of estimating the qualities of things and giving
them their due value. 2. clear perception or recognition, espe¬
cially of aesthetic quality.” To appreciate is “to place a suffi¬
ciently high estimate on. 2. to be fully conscious of. To exercise
wise judgment, delicate perception, and keen insight in realizing
the worth of something.”
How many, then, really appreciate their surroundings? All
who travel to our national parks and other scenic spots enjoy
them, but how many truly perceive the worth of these scenic
wonders ?
More and more, liberal arts colleges are stressing the study of
art appreciation and music appreciation, along, of course, with
that of literature in our own or other languages. Study of a labo-
120 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
ratory science is generally required, too — because of the feeling
that it is a part of a liberal education to have training in the
scientific method, and to know the basic elements of at least one
of the fields of science.
Might not more emphasis be placed on the cultural values to
be attained in studying the sciences, too? Certainly, it seems as
important to me to have an understanding and an appreciation
of our environment and the landscapes about us, as to appreciate
the art and music and literature that afford us recreation and
enjoyment.
Does appreciation increase enjoyment? There may not be a
simple answer to this question, if we remember that many people
agree with the old saying “Ignorance is bliss.”
Who enjoys a symphony concert more — one who goes to listen
with an untrained ear — who is stirred by the sounds he hears,
but who may relax through the concert and let the music as a
whole pass over him; or one who can appreciate the intricate
blending of many tones — who can detect the roles of the many
instruments — whose mind is constantly analyzing the blend that
reaches his ears as he considers the skill and artistry of the indi¬
vidual players, of the conductor and of the composer, and who
may be either stimulated or exhausted at the end of the evening?
Who enjoys looking at a painting more— one who chooses it
for a combination of pleasing colors and pattern, and perhaps
familiar subject matter; or one who looks critically and approves
the line, the composition, the choice and use of colors, the tech¬
nique of application?
Who enjoys a good book more — one who approves the idea and
the way in which the points are made ; or one who not only likes
the development of the theme or plot, but who savors the details
of description, the choice of words?
Who, then, enjoys looking at the Grand Canyon more — one
who is breathless at the great gap stretching before him, the
depth at which the muddy waters of the Colorado flow below
him? Or one through whose mind rush the thoughts of eons of
time laid bare before him — of the work done by the river and its
tributaries in eroding and carrying away the material that once
filled the gap between where he stands and the other rim, ten
miles away — material cut away to the depth of a mile— cut away
in but a fraction of the time that was involved in the formation
of those same rocks, layer on layer deposited on top of some of
the oldest rocks of the earth — and then the tremendous lifting of
those beds before the rain and rivers began cutting downwards?
There is no denying that all of these people get (or should get)
satisfaction and enjoyment from the examples I have cited.
1954] Nelson — Geologists' Appreciation of Surroundings 121
Otherwise, we would not have the sales of art, records and books
that we do, nor the great interest in travel to scenic spots. It
takes work, effort and study for most people to attain that higher
form of enjoyment called appreciation. It may be true that those
who have not developed real appreciation are more easily pleased,
because they are less critical — but do they ever receive the emo¬
tional satisfaction and uplift from true works of genius that
occasionally thrill the one who has been trained in what to look
for — who can recognize a master touch? I doubt if anyone who
has attained a sense of appreciation in any one or more of these
fields would consider going back to the more passive form of
uneducated enjoyment, although he may not have gone beyond
that stage with respect to enjoyment of others of these pursuits.
There is one big difference in this comparison that 1 have been
making between geology and the arts and letters, and that is the
fact that Man does not create the things that call for apprecia¬
tion in geology. Critics may say “This is good” or “This is bad”
about man-made works, because judgment can be based on supe¬
rior or inferior works of other men. But the earth was here long
before man, and geologic processes that are at work today are
like those at work in ages past. We take what is here, rather
than set the rules ourselves, and as we recognize the processes
and results, we can always find something to appreciate in the
features of the earth. Whether we call them works of Nature or
works of God, we can recognize the methodical development
which traces back, step by step, revealing the story of the earth's
past. If we consider scenery, of course, there are places that will
appear uninteresting and dull to many. For aesthetic reasons,
such areas will not attract people. Yet geologically, such an area
may prove to be extremely interesting, as underground deposits
are studied. Not only may resources of oil or gas lie below the
surface, but drilling may reveal unsuspected structures— old
beach lines, or even buried mountains. The delving for such re¬
quires more training than what might be called an introductory
course in appreciation, and accordingly will involve a more acute
sense of appreciation than would be developed by most — one per¬
haps partially based on economic reasoning.
Still, tastes differ, and we will find that there are people who
prefer the flat, endless plains, with unlimited horizons, to the
towering mountains, and vice versa. There are those who prefer
the wooded hills to the pounding surf and gleaming sands — and
again, vice versa. Others may prefer still coves and quiet waters,
or fields of ice and snow. Training is not the only factor in devel¬
oping a sense of appreciation ; we must acknowledge the impor¬
tance of background. Understanding of what has been closest to
122 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
us usually comes before a true appreciation of that which is
strange to us. The person versed in geology comes to have an
understanding of all these diverse landscapes, and to him they
can all be fascinating areas, evoking not only an appreciation of
the present vistas, but also of the factors which brought them
about. In other words, appreciation does enhance enjoyment.
There is nothing more basic to us than the Earth. Even city-
dwellers live in a maze of transported rocks, and if they open
their eyes to the variety of building stones, they can see — in addi¬
tion to the beauty of polished marble and granite — some of the
story of past ages.
I feel strongly that there should be more emphasis in our
schools on the cultural value of studying science — not just to
become acquainted with the scientific method and laboratory pro¬
cedure, along with the subject matter of a particular course —
but to gain a sense of appreciation on a par with that involved
in the study of art, music and literature. Our natural surround¬
ings, all around us, are as worthy of delicate perception and keen
insight — of an appreciative study — as are the works of man.
Few students have had much training in appreciation of what
they may see outdoors before they enter college, except as it is
taught them by their families, or perhaps in such activities as
Scout work. Many never do receive much training of this type.
And still, they are so receptive to it ! When I take my freshmen
on a field trip to Terry Andrae State Park, a few weeks after
they have begun their study of Geology, most of them are amazed
and fascinated by the simple things that they have never noticed
before — grains of sand rolling up over the crest of a ripple mark
and falling down the other side ; the circular markings made by
a bending blade of long dune grass, as the wind swishes it around
in the sand like a compass ; the concentration by the waves along
the shoreline of heavier, darker grains of sand in certain spots ;
the holes that open in the damp sand as the weight of their foot¬
steps forces the air from between the grains to the surface.
On this and other trips they learn to recognize the shapes of
pebbles and boulders scraped and pushed along under a glacier
as different from those rolled along in streams and currents, or
sand-blasted by the wind ; to appreciate the record left by former
seas, millions of years ago, as layer on layer of lime or mud or
sand accumulated ; to realize that where Milwaukee is now, there
once was a vast sea of warm, clear, salt water — a sea full of liv¬
ing creatures, which here and there added their shells to masses
started by great colonies of corals, and built up huge reefs ; that
while this sea teemed with invertebrate forms, the land areas
were practically barren of life. By spring, when they travel west-
1954] Nelson — Geologists' Appreciation of Surroundings 123
ward across Wisconsin, I hope that these students of mine are
able to appreciate the reasons behind the difference in the
scenery of the Driftless Area and that of the rest of the state —
to visualize a snowclad Baraboo Range as a protective barrier
warding off the massive ice sheet to the north and east from
southwestern Wisconsin. I hope that they can picture Devil’s
Bake as the great river canyon it once was— that they can sense
the tremendous earth movements involved in the upturned beds
to be seen at Rock Springs. These are just a few of the appre¬
ciative points of view that can give all Wisconsin people a feeling
of appreciation and pride in their state — an understanding of
differences in topography, soils, land use, and economic condi¬
tions.
I feel that we cannot stress too much the idea that the sciences
are valuable not only for their technical and methodic side— for
their training in thought and logic — but also for cultural reasons.
For a full life, is it not as important to have a true appreciation
of our surroundings outdoors as indoors ? A well-educated person
should see what he looks at as he goes by, and should derive from
his surroundings a feeling of awe and appreciation when he
realizes all that has gone before. He should recognize the enor¬
mity of geologic time and his own relative insignificance. At the
same time, he can recognize Man as the culmination of evolution
thus far, and can appreciate more fullv all that Man has accom¬
plished in the relatively short time that he has been on the earth.
He should have a basis for scientific speculation as to what may
lie in the future — of the intricate balance and relationships in
nature, and of all that may be involved when one factor is
thrown out of balance.
These are not new thoughts. Most people who have devoted
much study to geology have similar ideas about their subject, and
feel that it has given them such a sense of appreciation of their
surroundings that they want to share it with all others. They are
grateful for the help rendered by popular magazines and books,
in the education of the public along these lines. At the same time,
they feel that there should be more of an opportunity for all
high-school and college students to receive such training.
J
THE ABBE PREVOST AND THE JESUITS
Berenice Cooper
State College, Superior, Wisconsin
One of the most interesting chapters in the story of the lively
religious controversies of the early eighteenth century is that of
the Abbe Prevost’s treatment of the Jesuits in his eight-volume
novel Le Philosophe anglais. Only the first four volumes were
published in 1731. These left unfinished the story of the English
philosopher, Mr. Cleveland, and it was not until 1738-39 that
Prevost brought out four more volumes which concluded with
the conversion of the philosopher to what he designates as “true
religion.”
After the publication of the first part of the novel, Prevost
was involved in a series of controversies with the Jesuits because
he had satirized that order through his characterization of
Father Ruel.1 The second part of the novel gives a much kindlier
interpretation of the Jesuits. Whether this contrast is due in any
measure to the angry protests of that order or in some measure
to the change in Prevost’s relation to the Catholic church are
questions that cannot be arbitrarily answered. We do know that
he wrote the first four volumes when he was an exile from
France and from the church because he had left the Benedictine
monastery at Saint-Germain-des Pres without permission and
that before he published the continuation volumes, he had been
forgiven, received again into the order, and had settled down to
a quiet life of writing and translating and acting as chaplain in
the household of Prince Conti.
No one who reads the story of Cleveland’s first meeting with
Father Ruel can wonder that the Jesuits took offense at the char¬
acterization : an ecclesiastic with an entirely worldly view of
religion and an unprincipled casuist.
Father Ruel comes to Cleveland with an important message
from the Duchess of Orleans, a matter concerning Cleveland’s
property in England. Having disposed of this business, he states
that he has a still more important mission, for the Duchess has
told him of the many misfortunes of Cleveland and of his failure
to find consolation both in philosophy and in the religion pre¬
sented to him by a Jansenist priest and by a Protestant minister.2
1 Paul Hazard, Mudes critiques sur Manon Lescaut (Chicago, University of Chi¬
cago Press, 1929), pp. 60—62; Henry Harrisse, L’abbe Prevost: histoire de sa vie
et de ses oeuvres (Paris, Levy, 1896), pp. 238-244.
2 Le philosophe anglais (Utrecht, Neaulme, 1736-39), V, vi, 139-143.
125
126 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
Father Ruel is not surprised that Cleveland has been thus dis¬
illusioned. There is no comfort, he says, in philosophy, which was
never worthy of its name and is fit only for school-boys; and
how can one expect to find help through a Jansenist or a Protes¬
tant? Then, this Jesuit offers to introduce Cleveland to the true
religion, which is simple and easy, not obscure like that offered
him at Saumur.3
The first step, he advises, is to distract the mind from sorrow
by light reading, then to enjoy the pleasures of the senses, and
also to fall in love. As an aid to finding a remedy for sorrow
through love, the Jesuit introduces Cleveland to Cegile, daughter
of a Protestant neighbor whom Father Ruel is trying to convert
to Catholicism.4
Cleveland’s comments upon his first impressions of Father
Ruel and upon his method of winning converts indicate that the
Jesuits had some grounds for maintaining that their order had
been maliciously satirized.
All he knew of the society, says Cleveland, was its name and
some particulars which he had heard that did the Jesuits no
credit.5 The mannerisms of Father Ruel are those of a “church-
fop” : he speaks with gaiety and ease and liveliness which sug¬
gests this.6
When Cleveland tells the Duchess his impressions, she answers
with words which the Jesuit order could scarcely regard as com¬
plimentary, although the Duchess herself seems to be sincere in
regarding the Jesuits as agreeable people for these very charac¬
teristics. She replies that this manner not only fits Father Ruel
but the greater part of the order and that, although she is not
sure they would feel complimented to hear her say so, she likes
them best of all the orders just because of these qualities. There
are no other ecclesiastics that afford her so much diversion for
they are so adaptable that everyone who has a taste for pleasure
enjoys having them around; their presence gives sanction to a
thousand pleasures which one can enjoy without remorse. They
have made her actually love religion and feel it is not so severe
a matter if it is as the Jesuits represent it.7
When Cleveland expresses reluctance to accept Father Ruel as
a guide toward a religion that will meet human needs, the
3 Ibid., pp. 144-149.
4 7 bid., pp. 151-162.
5 Ibid pp. 139-140.
0 Ibid., p. 145.
7 Ibid., pp. 145—146.
1954]
Cooper — Abbe Prevost and Jesuits
127
Duchess overcomes his objections with the argument that he will
run no risk. “If you consider it only as an amusement, it will at
the worst divert your mind from trouble. You little realize what
comical creatures these Jesuits are.,,s
Feeling obliged to yield to the urgency of the Duchess, Cleve¬
land enters into a series of experiences, which he tells us cause
him to blush a thousand times at his own weakness.9
In guiding Cleveland’s reading, the Jesuit tells him to put
away his Plato and his Socrates and to substitute for them a
French catechism written by the Jesuit Canisius, a book “hardly
bigger than my finger” but a text which in less than an hour
will give the reader as much knowledge as the doctors and the
bishops possess; yes, even as much as the Pope himself. There
is also another work, Devotion Made Easy, which is a guide to
morality. In addition to such books of devotion, Father Ruel
sends a whole chest of poetry, romances, and novels to amuse
and to divert ; he advises also a gay social life.10
When Cleveland finds that the books on religion offer no proofs
that meet the tests of logic and that the poetry and romance is
too trifling a distraction to take his mind from his griefs, he
decides to reject all the advice of the Jesuit except that of becom¬
ing acquainted with Ceqile.11
The conversation that follows this decision presents as the
Jesuit’s argument much matter to which the order might justi¬
fiably object as unrepresentative and unfair. Father Ruel tells
Cleveland that he is insisting upon demonstration, whereas in
matters of religion simplicity and submission are more impor¬
tant.12 He is glad to know that Cleveland will accept one piece of
his advice and asks permission to report this to the Duchess.
This Cleveland refuses and adds in plain words that now he sees
that the Jesuit’s efforts in his behalf are motivated not so much
by zeal for his welfare as by Ruel’s vanity and the desire to
ingratiate himself with the Duchess.13
Sometime later in the story when the renewal of persecution
of Protestants in France leads Ceqile’s parents to plan to leave
for England, Cleveland decides to go with them and intrusts a
member of his household, Mme. Lallin, with the secret of his
preparations.14 In his zeal to make converts, the Jesuit uses
8 Ibid., p. 150.,
9 Ibid., pp. 150-151.
w Ibid., pp. 151-155.
uIbid., pp. 176-177.
12 Ibid., p. 178.
13 Ibid., p. 180.
14 Ibid., pp. 197-211,
128 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48
casuistic arguments to persuade Mme. Lallin, a Catholic, to
betray this secret.
He presents this dilemma: this revelation either injures re¬
ligion or does not injure it; if it injures religion, you cannot hide
it without running the danger of hell-fire; if it does not injure
religion, you are assured of the peace of your conscience, by
revealing it to your confessor; and you do not run any risk by
revealing it since it remains hidden under the seal of the con¬
fession.15
Mme. Lallin accepts these arguments and gives the informa¬
tion, but Father Ruel promptly breaks the seal of the confes¬
sional and goes so far as to attempt to prevent the escape from
France by trying to influence the bishop to seize Cegile and put
her in a convent and to throw Cleveland in the Bastille. Only the
archbishop’s respect for Cleveland’s influence at court through
the Duchess Henrietta frustrates Ruel’s plans.16
When Cleveland learns what Ruel has tried to do, he comments
that the Jesuit was motivated by hatred and revenge, since three
conquests of such importance would have flattered his vanity and
the plans for escape robbed him of the hopes of making converts ;
nothing at that time, says Cleveland was more fashionable among
the clergy than zeal for the conversion of their erring brothers,
as they called them.17 The tone here is obviously satirical.
Romantic entanglements, resulting from Cleveland’s infatua¬
tion with Ce<ple, conclude the fourth volume to which Prevost
promised a continuation that he did not get around to publishing
until 1738-39.
As far as Prevost’s relations with the Jesuits are concerned,
both the preface to these continuation volumes and his treatment
of Jesuit characters in the rest of the story show a desire to
make peace with the order, although the sincerity of what he
writes might be questioned by some readers.
In the preface to the fifth volume of 1738, Prevost explains
that he needed a vicious ecclesiastic in his plot and that he felt
that nothing would hold the interest of the reader more than the
exceptional instance of one vicious character in an order where
one is not accustomed to find such a character. He then requests
any reader of the first four volumes to correct his copy by
erasing from the word Jesuit all the letters except “J”. Finally
he calls attention to the complimentary picture he has given of
the Jesuits in the College de Louis le Grand.18
15 Ibid., p. 264.
16 Ibid., pp. 267-268.
17 Ibid., p. 267.
18 Ibid., VI, “Preface,” v-vi.
1954] Cooper — Abbe Prevost and Jesuits 129
This is the preface to the volumes written after Prevost had
returned to the Benedictine order.
The Jesuits enter the story in three ways in the four continu¬
ing volumes: the story of the vain and ambitious Father Ruel is
concluded ; Cleveland visits the Jesuit college to see his sons and
discusses religion with the Pere Recteur of the College du Louis
le Grand ; and after Cleveland’s wife and daughter are converted
to Catholicism, this same Pere Recteur becomes their spiritual
adviser.
All the episodes in which Jesuits appear show their zeal for
making converts. They try to convert Cleveland and his Protes¬
tant friend Clarendon, but their zeal is that of sincere men, con¬
vinced that their religion is the only true faith. Cleveland dis¬
agrees with them, deals with them cautiously at times, makes
some mildly satirical remarks with an attitude of amused toler¬
ance, not with malice, and in most passages seems to respect the
Pere Recteur.
A few examples of the treatment of the Jesuits in these three
groups of episodes will illustrate that they are treated in a
manner which they have less cause to resent than in the case of
the first four volumes.
On his death-bed, Father Ruel repents of his many machina¬
tions against Cleveland and his family. He confesses that his
crimes were motivated by ambition and injured pride, for he felt
that his prestige with the Duchess depended upon his winning
Cleveland as a convert, and his vanity was mortally wounded by
Cleveland’s resistance to the efforts to convert him.19
Ruel further comments that the reason for corruption within
so virtuous a body is that contact with the world they set out to
reform brings strong temptations to the Jesuit to use the power
of his profession so that it nourishes vanity and ambition.20
From Ruel’s death-bed confession and repentance comes an
ironic result : Gelin, who has tried to murder Cleveland and who
is responsible for many of Cleveland’s sorrows, is so impressed
by Ruel’s repentance that he is converted to Catholicism, becomes
a Jesuit, and is the devoted tutor of Cleveland’s sons.21
Whether Prevost was writing with tongue in cheek and saying-
in effect, “If you want this vicious Jesuit made good, I’ll give you
two good Jesuits by his repentance,” no one can be sure.
19 Ibid., VII, xi, 201-202.
20 Ibid., pp. 202-203.
21 Le philosophe anglais (Rouen, Racine, 1785), VIII, xv, 230. The preceding
references have been made to the Utrecht, Neaulme, 1736-39 edition because many
passages concerning the Jesuits have been deleted in the Rouen, Racine, 1785
edition. Since no volume VIII of the Utrecht edition is available, the Rouen, Racine,
edition is the reference wherever passages from volume VIII are used.
130 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
The treatment of the Jesuit school in the last two volumes is
one of the evidences Prevost uses in his preface to support his
assertion that he has given a complimentary picture of the
Jesuits in the concluding volumes. But there are some reserva¬
tions in Cleveland’s mind when he visits the school.
Since Ruel’s plots had placed the sons here as prisoners, it is
hard for Cleveland to forget this fact now, even though the boys
are perfectly free to come and go as they please after Ruel’s
schemes are frustrated. Cleveland feels a certain agitation as he
enters the courtyard of the college and sees the great number of
frocked men gazing at him with their sharp eyes.22 He under¬
stands, he says, that men of character who live under the same
discipline can not be either moderately good or moderately bad,
but must be extremely one or the other. Such thoughts do not
reassure him.23
In spite of these reservations, Cleveland is impressed by the
college : the discipline is excellent ; the children of the best fam¬
ilies in France are found here in spite of the generally unfavor¬
able attitude at that time toward the Jesuits. His comments to
the Pere Recteur give this Jesuit an opportunity to make a long
dissertation upon the aims and purposes of the order. His dis¬
course appears to be fairly represented, and upon it may rest
Prevost’s claim to have treated the Jesuits in a complimentary
manner in these volumes.24
But what good opinions Cleveland forms of the school do not
prevent his dealing cautiously with the Jesuits a little later in
the narrative. This is when he is getting ready a second time to
leave for England. He practices a mild deception in telling the
authorities of the college that he is taking his sons on a visit to
Rouen, instead of withdrawing them from the school, and he
adds to some complimentary remarks on the college a present of
a thousand pistoles.25
The Pere Recteur stands in a dual relation to Cleveland’s
family, for not only is he head of the college the sons attend but
he is also the spiritual adviser of Cleveland’s wife, who has be¬
come a Catholic. When Cleveland’s daughter is dying, she too
embraces the Catholic faith through the guidance of the Pere
Recteur, and the narrative represents this Jesuit as being a great
source of comfort to Mrs. Cleveland and in a lesser degree to
Cleveland himself at the time of the daughter’s death.
22 Ibid. (Utrecht, Neaulme, 1736-39), VII, xii, 293.
23 Ibid.
24 Ibid., pp. 294-300.
25 Ibid. (Rouen, Racine, 1785), VIII, xv, 189-190.
1954]
Cooper — Abbe Prevost and Jesuits
131
Because of this intimate connection with the family, the Pere
Recteur enters into many conversations upon religion with Cleve¬
land. Always he appears as a man zealous to make converts, but
kindly, sincere, and conscientious. Cleveland is conscious that the
Recteur hopes to convert him, and this is consistent with the
ideas he already has formed of the man’s zeal for his faith.26
When Lord Clarendon, with unusual liberality of mind, con¬
gratulates Mrs. Cleveland upon having found satisfaction for her
spiritual needs in the Catholic faith, the Recteur is overjoyed by
the prospect which he thinks he sees of another convert and
says to Clarendon that he need look no farther than the way now
open to him. Then, recklessly he adds that he would embrace
Clarendon’s religion if he did not know the excellence of his own.
But Clarendon is not converted. He replies frankly that he would
listen to the Recteur’s expositions if the mass of useless ques¬
tions which are obstacles to the triumph of truth could be re¬
moved. Although the Recteur appears to be delighted, he hastens
to change the subject to an ordinary topic of conversation, in
order, Cleveland explains, to avoid the discussion of useless ques¬
tions which would not contribute to his purpose.27
In this same scene after Clarendon has spoken highly of the
College du Louis le Grand and added that Cleveland might as
well leave his sons there since the kind of religious instruction
they receive makes no difference until they attain the age of rea¬
son, the Pere Recteur, who, of course, does not agree with Clar¬
endon, is ready to seize this opportunity of influencing the boys,
even though he can not approve the reason for leaving them at
the school. Cleveland notes the Jesuit’s reactions with more
amusement than malice.28 Then, he adds that although he is sat¬
isfied with Clarendon’s view, he does not think less of the Recteur
for the secret views he attributes to him. Cleveland has always
been inclined to judge religion on the grounds that justice and
goodness are the necessary virtues, and he judges not only the
personal integrity of the Jesuit but also the truth of his religion
by his zeal.29 There is a satirical ambiguity of a sly sort in those
words.
Since the Recteur fails to convert Cleveland, Prevost has
denied the Jesuits a complete apology for the harsh treatment
that they received in the earlier volumes, but he has made some
generous concessions in three conversions which would please
the Jesuit readers and in a generally more kindly tone of the
narrative wherever the Jesuits appear.
26 Ibid. (Utrecht, Neaulme, 1736-39), VII, xii, 303.
27 Ibid,, p. 260.
28 Ibid., p. 258.
29 Ibid.
132 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
It would appear, however, that the controversy regarding the
treatment of the Jesuits continued for four editions of Le Philo-
sophe anglais, those of 1757, 1778, 1781, 1785, have been cen¬
sored by the deletion or revision of passages concerning the
Jesuits. That problem was treated in an earlier paper read before
the Academy. When it is solved, it will make another chapter in
the story of Prevost’s relations with the Jesuits in the eighteenth
century.
POPULATION FLUCTUATIONS OF THE MALLOPHAGAN
PARASITE BRUELIA VULGATA (KELLOGG)
UPON THE SPARROW1
William J. Woodman and Robert J. Dicke
University of Wisconsin
The purpose of this investigation was to determine if seasonal
fluctuations of an ectoparasite occur in the relatively constant
environment such as among the feathers of a bird host.
Matthysse (1946) and Allen and Dicke (1952) reported that the
chewing louse Damalinia (Bovicola) bovis (L) followed a sea¬
sonal cycle in which the maximum population occurred in the late
winter, usually February or March. Although this fluctuation has
been attributed to various physical and physiological causes by
many investigators, none of the explanations have gained wide
acceptance. Cursory observations of the louse, Damalinia lipeu-
roides Megnin of the white tail deer, indicated that seasonal
fluctuations may also occur upon this host.
Methods. For this investigation the body louse, Bruelia vulgata
(Kellogg) of the house sparrow, Passer domesticus L. was
chosen because of the abundance of the host. An attempt was
made at the beginning of this investigation to collect ten birds
per week for one year but this was not accomplished because of
the reduced population of the sparrows during the summer
months. Birds were collected by shooting with .22 cal. bird shot.
The ectoparasites were removed from the body of the host
within two hours after the time of collection by placing the
sparrows in a paper bag containing a pad saturated with chloro¬
form or ether. After five to ten minutes the body was removed
and the feathers were manually roughed over a sheet of white
paper. The parasites, when anesthetised, released their grasp on
the feathers and could then be easily collected from the paper.
Discussion and Results: A total of 391 house sparrows were
collected. Of this number 174 were free of mallophagan para¬
sites. No correlation was found between the ratio of infested and
noninfested hosts throughout the year and it is assumed that the
infestation of the individual bird host is due to chance. The per¬
centage of infested sparrows was 55.5%. The total parasite pop-
1 Approved for publication by the director of the Wisconsin Agricultural Experi¬
ment Station. These studies were aided by a grant of the Research Committee of
the Graduate School from funds provided by the Wisconsin Alumni Research
Foundation.
133
134 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
rvi q
3 S
PQ PQ
<
E-f
1954] Woodman & Decke — Population Fluctuations 135
illation was lowest in the summer, intermediate in the fall and
winter and highest in the spring. See table 1.
The results were analyzed using the standard analysis of vari¬
ance F-test. Unequal samples were compensated by using the log
number of parasites plus one for each of the individual hosts for
the month. The number of parasites varies from one to sixty-
eight per individual sparrow. Significant differences in the
monthly louse population was found only between the months of
May and June at the 0.05 probability level.
Because this increase in the total parasite population occurs at
the time of maximum nesting activity of the house sparrow in
this area, it may be caused by changes in the habits of the host
during this period. This hypothesis of relationship of parasite
incidence to breeding season might also be extended to other
animals in the temperate areas in which the peak of the louse
population occurs when the young and adults are closely asso¬
ciated and would thus insure the distribution of the parasites
from the adults to the young.
Small numbers of the amblyceran species, Menacanthus annu-
latus (Piaget) were found upon ten sparrows during the months
of October and November. Their absence throughout the
remainder of the year is unexplained.
Summary: A total of 391 house sparrows were collected of
which 217 were infested with a variable number of mallophagan
parasites. The approximate average number of parasites per
infested host for the year was six per sparrow.
Statistically significant differences in louse populations were
indicated between the months of May and June. This increase
may be correlated to the change in habits of the birds during the
time of maximum nesting activity.
References
Matthysse, J. G. 1946. Cattle Lice, Their biology and control. Cornell IJniv.
Expt. Sta. Bull. 832, 1-67.
Allen, N. N. and R. J. Dicke, 1952. Cattle lice control by clipping. Jour.
Econ. Ent. 45: (6), 970-973.
FOREST HUMUS: ITS GENETIC CLASSIFICATION1
S. A. Wilde2
He who would study organic existence,
First drives out the soul with rigid persistence
That the parts in his hand he may hold and class ;
But the spiritual link is lost, alas !
Mephxstopheles, Goethe’s Faust ; 1 :4
The dearth of information on the concealed properties of
forest humus precludes treating this subject on a rigorous aca¬
demic plane, and compels the employment of a discretionary and
speculative approach. Under similar circumstances, Josiah
Royce, one of the greatest speculative minds that America has
produced, pointed out one way to an objective as follows: “Not
to demonstrate in fair and orderly array, from any one principle
or axiom, what must be . . ., but to use every and any device
that may offer itself, general analysis, special example, compari¬
son, and contrast of cases” ; in brief, “anything that shall lead to
the insight of what the objective is and implies.”
It is only in the spirit of Royce's philosophy that one may
justify or excuse the unconventional style of this paper, borrow¬
ings from Goethe's immortal masterpiece, and the insufficient
deference paid to certain established trends of thought.
Foresters Fail to Come to Terms
That I may detect the inmost force,
Which binds the world, and guides its course ;
Its germs, productive powers explore.
And rummage in empty words no more.
Goethe’s Faust ; 1:1
Classification of forest humus is an old problem which, instead
of mellowing with age, has grown more and more troublesome.
One hundred and twenty years ago Hundeshagen (1830) pointed
out in his text that forest humus occurs in two principal morpho¬
logical forms which differ in their silvicultural effects. This im¬
portant statement, however, failed to impress Hundeshagen’s
contemporaries; in those days differences in the nature of soil
could not interfere with the assembly line of timber production
set in motion by Cotta and Hartig on a hundred-year cycle. Not
until four and a half decades later was the task of humus classi-
1 Contribution from the Soils Department, University of Wisconsin in coopera¬
tion with Wisconsin Conservation Department.
2 Professor of Soils, University of Wisconsin. It is the author’s pleasant duty to
express his gratitude to Patricia A. Roberts and Martha J. Haller who assisted in
the preparation of this essay.
137
138 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
fication revived by Emeis (1875) who suggested that three types
of forest humus be recognized : one made up of well-decomposed
organic matter incorporated with the mineral soil and containing
nitrogen in the form of “nitric acid” ; the other two made up of
“raw” or “coarse” organic remains.
Shortly after the appearance of Emeis’ paper, Muller (1879,
1884) issued two monographs on the morphology of humus
forms, their relation to forest growth, and their effects on soil
development. Muller’s reports attracted wide attention, far
beyond the boundaries of his native Denmark. The simultaneous
publication of Darwin’s work on earthworms and vegetable
mould (1881) still further increased general interest in humus.
For some time it appeared as though Muller’s two principal
types, “mull” and “mor,” placed the problem of humus classifica¬
tion on a sound scientific basis.
However, the favorable silvicultural effects of some forms of
Muller’s “mor” led Ramann (1893) to recognize three main
types: mull, mor (Trockentorf or “dry peat”), and “coarse
humus” (Rohhumus). The last variety was characterized by a
friable structure, showed a rapid decomposition on cut-over
lands, and in a way resembled the mull-like mor (Mullartiger
Torf) originally described by Muller (1887, p. 37). Eventually,
however, Ramann retailored his classification twice (1905, 1911)
and thus established the precedent for numerous other proposals
published in the course of the past forty years. These proposals
undoubtedly broadened the knowledge of humus forms, but they
introduced a number of misconceptions and brought about nom-
enclatural chaos; almost every expression of international use
has now two or more meanings, and the same material is known
under several names (Aaltonen, 1948, p. 183). The simple con¬
cept of superficial organic matter was at one time or another
referred to as “mor,” “mar,” “moor,” “Torf,” “dry peat,” “raw
humus,” “surface humus,” “duff,” and “holorganic layer.” In
some writings the terms mull and mor were used to designate
forms of organic matter (incorporated or free), rather than
natural types of humus (Lindquist, 1931; DuRietz, 1942). Thus,
the seed of discord and confusion planted by Ramann in time
grew into an ideological and terminological monstrosity, a hydra
with the heads of Janus.
The existing turmoil did not arise only from the disagreement
of opinionated authors of different classifications, but is a con¬
sequence of more deep-seated reasons, such as a generally insuffi¬
cient knowledge of the subject, intrusion of unqualified generali¬
zations, and underestimation of the pedological and silvicultural
importance of humus layers. To a great degree, the development
1954] Wilde— Classification of Forest Humus 139
of a workable system of forest humus classification was handi¬
capped by the fact that the recording of the visible morphological
features was rarely supplemented by the study of the concealed
physico-chemical and microbiological characteristics of humus,
all important in the life of forest vegetation (Waksman, 1938).
The Story of the Lost Horizon
Hereon they base the law
There’s no disputing,
To give the undermost
The topmost footing.
'IMephxstopheles, Goethe’s Faust ; 2:4,1
The existing, nearly a century old, framework of soil science
was largely fashioned by geologists. In accordance with their
background, these students of the non-living world visualized soil
as a natural body derived by weathering from the underlying
substratum. The coined term “parent material” clearly indicated
a picture of the soil as originating from below.
Timber growers, in their more than two hundred years of
reforestation experiences, had untold opportunities to observe
thin-littered and crumb-structured soils harboring earthworms,
as well as leached hardpan soils covered with a thick mat of
organic debris (Figure 1). Even though foresters failed to
attribute any scientific importance to their observations, they
knew that the soil originates from above, not from below; and
they visualized soil in terms of “parent litter,” rather than “par¬
ent substratum.” These ideas were conclusively proven by Muller
(1887, p. 156) who investigated the soil of an abandoned forest
nursery which was homogenized by frequent cultivation and
subsequently planted to spruce and oak; within less than forty
years this soil produced a garden-like mull under the oak stand,
but a layer of raw humus and pronounced signs of podzolization
under the spruce stand.
Since the time of Muller’s research, the problem has been re¬
peatedly investigated in many countries ; the results of all these
studies led Aaltonen (1948, p. 206) to conclude recently that:
“Der Mull gehort zu der Braunerde, der Rohhumus zum Podzol.”
Following in the footsteps of dynamic geology, soil scientists
concentrated their attention on the translocation of mobile soil
fractions and presented soil as a profile comprising a sequence
of horizons.
Few students of forest environment failed to acknowledge the
importance of organized soil morphology, but the geological pat¬
tern of soil did not entirely satisfy their needs. Under the pres¬
sure of practical tasks, foresters were not so much interested in
the soil “profile” as in the soil “face,” that is, the epidermal
140 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
Figure 1. (A) Matted mor or raw humus of a mature loam podzol devel¬
oped under a hemlock and balsam fir stand in northern Wisconsin;
organic matter is .sharply separated from the bleached, nearly white layer
of silica. (B) Earthworm crumb mull of a weakly podzolized loam devel¬
oped under a hard maple, basswood, and white elm stand in central Wis¬
consin; organic matter is intimately mixed with the mineral soil by the
action of night crawlers.
1954]
Wilde— -Classification of Forest Humus
141
organic layer which serves as a seed bed and decides the fate of
natural forest regeneration. This layer, however, slipped through
the fingers of the founders of pedology. Not until the soil profile
was divided into A, B, C, and later Alf A2, B, C horizons, did the
existence of the forest floor receive recognition as the A0 layer
or “super-solum” material (Zakharov, 1931, p. 61). In truth it
may be said that soil scientists did not see the soil for the
horizons.
Beyond incorporation of the so-called “dead litter” into the
profile of forested soils, the morphology of forest humus received
no further consideration by soil scientists. In vain one could
search through pedological textbooks for a reasonably accurate
description of humus layers. Glinka (1931), one of the mainstays
of pedology, failed to even mention the A sub-zero layer in the
chapter of his book devoted to the classification of the soil profile
(pp. 159-163).
In time pedologists correlated the composition of the soil pro¬
file with conditions of environment and devised a broad scheme
of climatic-zonal classification of soils. In this classification again
the factors of the organic world received only token considera¬
tion (Romell and Heiberg, 1931, p. 569). The distribution of
northern forests was identified with the occurrence of sesqui-
oxide-impoverished or podzol soils and designated as the “podzol
region.” Since not all the soils in this enormous area showed
signs of podzolization, the concept of zonality was made good by
the introduction of such equivocal terms as “weakly podzolized
soils,” “latent podzols,” “crypto-podzolic soils,” and more re¬
cently the ambiguous expression, “brown podzolic soils.”
Many unnecessary complications would have been spared if
the originators of the climatic-zonal classification had made ref¬
erence to, let us say, the “taiga region,” rather than the “podzol
region,” and stressed that the development of soils in boreal
forests is governed by two diametrically opposed processes : mor
humus formation and mull humus formation.
A classificational approach of this kind, incidentally, was not
advocated by foresters alone, but by some agronomists as well,
particularly by Kostychev (1889) and his student Williams
(1927) of the Moscow Agricultural Academy. In Williams'
opinion the development of true podzol soils is entirely a result
of the activity of fungi which release “crenic” and other acids
whose salts of iron and aluminum are water soluble and cannot
be retained in the surface layer. On the other hand, the develop¬
ment of chernozem soils and the chernozem-like weakly podzol¬
ized soils is the result of activity of aerobic and anaerobic bac¬
teria whose metabolic by-products consist of “huminic” and
142 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
“ulminic” acids; the salts of these acids are insoluble in water
and are permanently fixed in the soil profile. In spite of the
grossly hypothetical nature of Williams’ ideas, eventually his
views found support in the work of the geochemist Vernadskii
(1939) and his followers (Geltzer, 1943; Lazarev, 1949).
At present, there seems to be enough evidence to state that
when pedologists brushed off the “dead litter” they not only
removed with it the practical interests of silviculture, but also
the scientific foundation of soil genesis.
Sense of Humus
To bring- the Upper World, erewhile asunder,
In happier conjunction with the Under.
Emperor, Goethe’s Faust ; 2:1,4
Aside from its indisputable effect on the genetic development
of the soil profile, humus plays an important part in production
of nursery stock, selection cuttings, fire hazard, soil erosion and
flood control, wildlife ecology, and the utilization of forest lands
for agricultural purposes.
Since the earliest days of artificial reforestation, humus has
served as fertilizer for nursery soils. It fulfills the same function
today, being applied broadcast, as an ingredient of composts and
briquettes, or in the form of suspensions (Wilde, 1946) . One may
question why the great progress made in the manufacture of
commercial fertilizers has not eliminated the use of bulky natural
organic deposits which are costly to procure and awkward to
handle. The reason is that certain types of humus provide a safer
and better balanced diet than do chemical fertilizers. This claim
does not stem from the inherited prejudices of foresters, but
finds constantly increasing support in the results of investiga¬
tions dealing with physiology of planting stock.
Aside from nutritional aspects, humus is steadily gaining rec¬
ognition as a means of controlling damping-off disease, the
scourge of forest nursery practice (Wilde and Hull, 1937 ; Lei-
bundgut, 1950; Mikola, 1952). It is believed that pathogenes are
suppressed either through direct attack by certain humus-inhab¬
iting organisms, or through nutritional, growth-promoting, and
antibiotic influences of the humus milieu. Recent progress in the
study of antibiotics promises to place the subject of humus on a
level of unparalleled importance, not only in regard to forest
vegetation, but in regard to the health of man as well.
The mineral portion of the soil is animated by roots of vege¬
tation and some organisms, but its “life” is mainly confined to
the metaphoric expressions of pedologists. Changes in the com¬
position of the soil profile below the organic layers become appar-
1954]
Wilde — Classification of Forest Humus
143
ent only after scores of years, or even centuries. Humus, on the
other hand, is an entity teeming: with life and a dynamic system
extremely sensitive to environmental conditions. In some in¬
stances even a light thinning of a forest stand by axe, wind, or
destructive organisms modified the biotic equilibrium of humus
(Tamm, 1950, p. 190). This modification is accompanied by
marked changes in the intensity of respiration, rate of nitrifica¬
tion, oxidation-reduction potential, nature of released volatile
substances, and other measurable manifestations of microbio¬
logical activity. Hence, an episode in the life of mineral soil is
history in the life of the humus layer.
The responsiveness of the organic horizons of forest soils to
environmental changes offers an invaluable tool to silviculturists
in their endeavors to create optimum conditions under the forest
canopy, and thus to utilize to the maximum the productive forces
of the habitat. Even at the present state of silvicultural knowl¬
edge, it is possible to maintain that the road toward truly scien¬
tific management of forest stands leads via careful observations
of the behavior of humus layers and their inhabitants from
either the plant or animal kingdom (Romell, 1935).
It has long been known that the morphology of humus layers,
particularly the thickness and structure of the ectorganic frac¬
tion, has a pronounced influence on the rate of natural forest
regeneration (Morozov, 1912; Hesselman, 1926). Recent evidence
has pointed out that certain concealed properties of the humus
layer predetermine not only the rate, but also the kind of natural
reproduction (Lafond, 1951 ; Cholodny, 1951 ; Persidsky and
Wilde, 1954).
The morphology of forest layers influences the susceptibility
of forest stands to fire and the fertility of burned-over soils. Mor
humus ignites readily and burns persistently; soils with this
form of humus lose their nitrogen through combustion and much
of their available nutrients through leaching of ash constituents.
Soils with mull humus, on the other hand, expose only a thin
layer of litter to ground fires and are as good as immune to
fertility losses.
Many recent investigations have clearly demonstrated the far-
reaching role played by shriveled leaves and their leftovers in
the absorption of precipitation, moderation of run-off, and con¬
trol of erosion (Kittredge, 1948). In some regions the high infil¬
tration capacity of soils that tames the raging fury of rain water
is linked with the depth and crumb structure of earth mull; in
other regions it is the thick mat of mor that is largely responsible
for the capacity of land to prevent catastrophic floods and resist
the processes of denudation.
144 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
Few foresters would care to by-pass in their management
plans the task of sustenance of the feather and fur clad members
of the forest community. In many instances, the supply of game
food depends upon the protection of desirable forms of humus
with their associated ground cover plants, insects, worms, and
other organisms. European silvicultural experiences have demon¬
strated beyond any doubt that high-pressure mercantilism, which
buried the natural forest floor under pure spruce plantations,
achieved nothing save creation of “biological vacua” and huge
financial losses (Nechleba, 1923).
In forest management it is seldom feasible or desirable to
divorce the problems of silviculture from those of agricultural
land utilization. As often as not, the success of farming forest
lands depends on the nature of forest humus. Mor humus carries
an abundant supply of energy material and decomposes a few
years after the land is cleared ; mull humus consists of resistant
“ligno-proteinates” and may persist for centuries even under in¬
tensive cultivation. The knowledge of this behavior of different
humus forms is of ancient origin. In fact, pioneer farmers whose
plows followed the axe realized the difference in the productive
capacity of mull and mor soils much better than farmers of long
cultivated areas. As testified by manv writings, the first aim of
homesteaders in forested regions was to find land with incor¬
porated organic matter, be it called “terreau,” “mould,” or
“black dirt.” Not too long ago, virgin soils of North America
taught an object lesson in land utilization to newcomers from the
old agricultural regions of Central Europe; shortly after break¬
ing seemingly fertile soils with mor humus they were faced with
a sterile quartzose residue, drastically declined crop production,
and, ultimately, tax delinquency. The statement of Emerson that
“The first steps in agriculture . . . teach that Nature’s dice are
always loaded” proved to be correct.
Spirit of the Soil
Come on, then ! We’ll explore what’er befall ;
In this, thy Nothing- may I find my All !
Goethe’s Faust ; 2:1,5
One problem of paramount importance, the relation between
the form of humus and rate of forest growth, has always been
and still remains a highly controversial issue.
Some Scandinavian silviculturists, following in Muller’s and
Darwin’s footsteps, are inclined to regard mor humus as an evil
and mull as a condition ideal for forest growth. They invariably
refer to “good mull” and “bad mor” types, but never with a
reversal of adjectives.
1954]
Wilde — Classification of Forest Humus
145
An American forester acquainted with the Lake States region
sees the situation in an entirely different light. With few excep¬
tions the best crumb mulls of this area occur on soils of the
prairie-border transition or on poorly drained soils; such soils
support inferior stands of oak and lowland hardwoods with
yields seldom exceeding 10,000 board feet per acre.
On the other hand, stands of white pine yielding over 30,000
board feet per acre are found on soils with a forest floor of pro¬
nounced mor type. Even the worst thick mors, approaching wood
peat in composition, at times support stands of white cedar and
hemlock that attain 18,000 board feet per acre. Consequently, on
the enormous acreage of the United States the high rate of forest
growth coincides with the occurrence of mor humus and pod-
zolized soils.
A still different viewpoint is held by some central European
foresters. For example, in the opinion of Blihler (1910) “The
principal task of practical forestry is to promote the accumula¬
tion and uninterrupted (regelmassig) decomposition of forest
humus.” Siichting (1929), going still further, regards humus as
a nuisance and feels that the best type of humus is one that is
never formed. These ideas are likely to be warmly seconded by
foresters who have had an opportunity to observe hardwood
stands in southern Indiana and Ohio which produce record yields
of nearly 40,000 board feet per acre on soils that lack both free
and incorporated organic matter (Wilde, 1951). The same view¬
point would be shared by some silviculturists working in a trop¬
ical or semi-tropical environment where the entire process of
tree feeding is not dissimilar to that of flowing solution cultures
(D’Hoore, 1949).
Thus, a comparison of observations from different parts of the
world suggests that the effect of the humus form on the rate of
forest growth varies with both geographical location and tree
species. Moreover, the old views which regarded “black matter”
or the “humus proper” as the essence of soil fertility are not
always applicable to mature forest stands, especially those of
warm regions. This in part may be explained by the fact that all
forms of humus, whether raw organic remains or lignoprotein
aggregates, are more or less incidental leftovers that have sur¬
vived the processes of decomposition ; the fraction of organic
matter most essential for nutrition of trees is utilized by plant
roots and by microorganisms, or is lost through leaching. Chemi¬
cally, this fraction may or may not have any relation to the
partly humified material. This implies that the true “spirit of the
soil” is not necessarily carbonized residue, but, as appropriate to
146 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
spirits, the ethereal end-products of organic matter decompo¬
sition.
In this connection, one should recall the words of Ruprecht, an
outstanding student of chernozem soils, who in 1866 stated “The
quantity of humus does not determine the property of black
earth, since in certain provinces true chernozems are found
which are completely exhausted in fertility, in spite of the fact
that they still preserve the crumb structure and contain as much
as 8i/2 per cent of humus on a dry weight basis.”
All of these observations strongly suggest that foresters should
begin to pay attention to the works on polyuronides and other
colorless by-products of microbial activity (Winogradsky, 1929;
Vageler, 1933; Gillam, 1939; Vernadskii, 1939; Norman, 1943;
Fuller, 1947).
Contemplation of the Obvious
L.ife’s elements with due caution fitting
The What consider and more the How and Why !
Meanwhile, about the world at random flitting,
I may detect the dot upon the i.
Homunculus, Goethe’s Faust ; 2:2,2
Most of the existing classifications of forest humus are based on
the visible morphological features of the holorganic and hemor-
ganic layers. This is apparently a legitimate approach, but not
one that can be accepted without restrictions and amendments.
The ocular determination of the morphology of forest humus
is not a simple matter and invariably leaves the specialist or
practitioner wavering between objectivity and subjectivity.
Moreover, a classification based solely on external characteristics
may easily lead to hair-splitting details and a multitude of ab¬
stract concepts divorced from their context. This is particularly
true when the classification emanates from the thesis that the
truly scientific spirit requires a precise recording of morpho¬
logical characteristics without any preconceived regard for the
possible relation of these characteristics to forestry practice. A
philosophy of this kind is parallel to the credo of “pure aes¬
thetes” or modernistic artists who indulge in the production of
abstract geometrical patterns and organized smudges.
However, in art, as well as in a utilitarian classification, the
intrinsic values are not arrived at by either photographic record¬
ing of objects or by creation of hodgepodge conglomerates, but
by expression of actual life experiences and significant physical
relationships. In the case of humus classification, these relation¬
ships embrace the ability of soil to conceive young plants, to
nourish vegetative cover of a certain composition, to retard run¬
off, arrest or promote the downward movement of salts and col-
1954]
Wilde — Classification of Forest Humus
147
loids, and regulate the balance of useful and harmful organisms.
In other words, the recordable make-up of humus is nothing but
an abstraction constituting the first step from experience to ex¬
pression of something objectively useful. If the identifying fea¬
tures of humus are not used as a means to an end and are sepa¬
rated from their teleological basis, the classification will become
a medley of terminolgy, meaningless to men of practice.
If practicing foresters are to become interested in humus clas¬
sification, such classifications must first become interested in
practicing foresters. The road to this objective is well marked by
the five-hundred-year-old axiom of Leonardo da Vinci which
declares “0, Marvelous Necessity, thou with supreme reason con-
strainest all effects to issue from their causes in the briefest
possible way.”
Cosmopolitan Microcosms
That brain, alone, not loses hope, whose choice is
To stick in shallow trash forevermore,
Which digs with eager hand for buried ore
And, when it finds an angle-worm, rejoices.
Goethe’s Faust ; 1:1
It has been mentioned more than once that foresters, particu¬
larly P. E. Muller, have failed to receive their share of credit in
the development of soil genesis, a body of knowledge which
raised soil studies to the level of a science (Romell, 1944). In all
fairness, however, it must be admitted that it was the difference
in the nature and magnitude of classificational approaches which
placed Muller’s name in the shadow of Dokuchaev’s and Hil-
gard’s.
The founders of scientific pedology first of all grasped climatic-
zonal relationships and visualized great geographic landscapes
which spread across continents. Tundra, podzol, chernozem, and
other great soil groups are the principal biomes of the globe
which decide the destiny of entire nations. In contrast, foresters
of central Europe were concerned with mull and mor, or two
“microcosms” which have only limited geographical distribution
and which were in no way correlated with macroclimatic factors.
And this same lack of comprehension of climatic-zonal influences
makes the existing classification of forest humus a jumble of
ambiguous terms. In recent years mull and mor have become
climatic aliens, flotsam and jetsam of soil science; they drift like
tumble weeds at the pleasure of enterprising classifiers from
Arctic Scandinavia to the Indian Ocean and from the Canadian
tundras to the Gulf of Mexico.
It is a well-established fact that indiscriminate transplanting
of foreign species frequently brings disappointments. A few liv-
148 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
in g reminders of misguided enthusiasm in the American past are
Scotch pine, carp, and the starling. It is equally true that the
translocation of foreign nomenclatural concepts, systems of
forest management, or silvicultural ideology can not be accom¬
plished successfully without adherence to the laws of ecological
or climatic-zonal adaptation. The scientific classifications ac¬
quired at a bargain from abroad frequently carry with them con¬
ceptual and nomenclatural starlings. Once released in a new
environment, these acquisitions often spread far beyond the ter¬
ritory assigned for them, and become a liability rather than an
asset. “Podzol” is a good word for raw humus soils impoverished
in sssquioxides, but at present this term confuses genetic classi¬
fication of soils on every continent (Wilde, 1953) .
As the past has shown, the shift of Muller’s classification from
the Danish peninsula to the comparatively similar environment
of the northeastern United States required a long period of
“acclimatization” during which many graftings and prunings
back of grafted scions were performed (Romell and Heiberg,
1931; Bornebusch and Heiberg, 1935; Heiberg, 1937; Heiberg
and Chandler, 1941; Lunt et al., 1949; Hoover et at., 1951). An
attempt to transplant the central European scheme to other
regions of America threatens to increase the already unduly long
list of misnomers and may call for even more painful surgery.
A striking illustration of the chameleon-like behavior of
humus forms under diverse climatic-zonal conditions is provided
by Romell (1935), who writes “The same measure may affect a
mor, not only to a different degree but also in opposite directions,
under different conditions. A selective cutting may be fairly good
silviculture with the better forms of mor in central Scandinavia,
but in the north it has produced a mor worse than the average.
Clear cutting is universally good in northern Sweden . . ., but is
feared by foresters in the Black Forest, in southwestern Ger¬
many, as aggravating instead of improving a mor condition.”
These observations bear witness to the fact that classification of
natural humus forms can not bear legitimate offspring if it is
divorced from its lawfully wedded mate — environment.
Origin of the Species
The mystery which for Man in Nature lies
We dare to test, by knowledge led ;
And that which she was wont to organize,
We crystallize, instead.
Wagner, Goethe’s Faust ; 2:2,2
The nature of humus-forming remains, type and rate of
organic matter decomposition, mode of migration of decomposi¬
tion products, petrographic and textural properties of the min-
1954] Wilde — Classification of Forest Humus 149
eral substratum, and other conditions give rise to an untold
number of morphological and physico-chemical varieties of
humus layers. The recording of all these numerous varieties,
however, is a problem of secondary importance which may be
best solved on a regional scale. The essential prerequisite for a
broad humus classification is the delineation of physiographic
and biotic conditions which determine the prevailing trends in
metamorphosis of fresh organic remains. The original, basically
correct, approach of P. E. Muller can be brought back to life on
an extended scale only by an analysis of the underlying causes of
humus formation and establishment of the major genetic types
of humus development, rather than by empirical tallying of
different kinds of humus layers.
Humus of forested soils consists of three fractions: surface
deposit of partly decomposed organic remains which may be
named the ectorganic fraction or ecto-humus; dark colored,
finely dispersed organic matter incorporated with the mineral
soil by the action of organisms, by infiltration, or as a residue of
root systems, that is, the endorganic fraction or endo-humus;
pale-colored organic suspensions and pseudo-solutions which are
not detectable by ocular examination and which may be desig¬
nated as the cryptorganic fraction or crypto-humus. The com¬
position and the relative proportion of these fractions are cor¬
relative with environmental conditions and give rise to different
humus forms.
The influence of climatic conditions determine to a consider¬
able degree the yield and rate of decomposition of organic
remains and delineates two distinct forms of humus layers:
megorganic layers and oligorganic layers.
Meg organic layers develop in environments which produce
large quantities of plant material or retard decomposition of
organic remains; such layers are characterized by a high or at
least appreciable content of organic matter, free or incorporated.
They include mull and mor forms, as understood in their original
connotation. The occurrence of these forms is confined to three
large genetical groups of forest soils : podzolized soils, melanized
or brownearth soils, and prairie-forest soils. Oligorganic layers
are found in environments which effect an extremely rapid de¬
composition of organic remains or produce a sparse amount of
plant material. Such layers include forest litter, or velum; less
than one inch thick incipient mors or felts; horizons with con¬
cealed humus or leucozones; weakly developed endorganic sod
layers or lean swards originated from the roots of xerophytic
grasses ; and dark hydrosolic melazones or stains which carry a
negligible content of protein.
150
Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
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1954] Wilder— Classification of Forest Humus 151
The line dividing broad zones of megorganic and oligorganic
forms of forest floor has not only ecological implications; by
coincidence of historical events it serves as a boundary between
the two different silvicultural approaches: the traditional silvi¬
culture of the Old World, which in a large measure was accepted
by foresters in the northern states of this country, and the
youthful silviculture of the New World, which is developing in
the southern and western states.
The principal organisms which contribute to the formation of
humus layers, by their life activity as well as by their dead
tissues , include earthworms, nematodes, members of arthropod
phylum (crustaceans, mites, millipeds, and insects), protozoa,
fungi, aerobic and anaerobic bacteria, actinomycetes, roots of
grasses and heath plants, and tissues of mosses, lichens, and
other ground cover vegetation. Surface remains of trees and
shrubs, forming forest litter, provide energy material, but serve
only in rare cases as significant constituents of humus layers.
Depending upon the predominant agent of humus develop¬
ment, humus layers may be subdivided into the following genet-
ical groups: foliogenous , formed by superficial parts of plants,
including lichens and mosses; rhizogenous, made up chiefly of
remains of root systems, especially those of grasses and heath
plants; zoogenous , formed largely by earthworms and arthro¬
pods; microbiotic , developed in the absence of macro-animal
forms by diversified population of bacteria, fungi, actinomycetes,
protozoa, and nematodes ; and mycelial , consisting in a large part
of decay-resistant tissues of fungi. Under conditions of impeded
drainage, aerobic organisms are replaced, at least in part, by
anaerobic organisms, and the organic remains are subjected to
strong hydrolysis in the presence of reduced compounds; the
resulting process of “putrefaction" or anaerobic fermentation of
the methane or a hydrogen type gives rise to saprogenous humus
layers.
Figure 2 illustrates several of the representative forest humus
forms. The more important types of humus layers, developing
under the influences of different environmental conditions and
biotic factors, are briefly described in the following synopsis.
Synopsis of the Major Types of Forest Humus Development
Velum. The term “velum" is derived from the Latin, meaning
“veil." It was suggested by Wissotsky (1930) as a substitute for
forest litter. This term well expresses the make-up of the embry¬
onic humus layers consisting of mere cover of plant debris. Such
cover is composed largely of the previous year’s loose or friable
152 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
litter which rests on a pale-colored eluvial horizon impoverished
in nitrogen. The content of the total N in the surface mineral
soil is usually below 0.03 per cent.
This typical representative of oligorganic humus layers is a
result of a warm and humid climate which promotes the ener¬
getic activity of the diversified soil population and an intensive
leaching of the products of organic matter decomposition. It
bears the imprint of soil-forming conditions common to the
tropics, and in this country it is largely confined to Red and
Yellow Podzolic soils underlain by porous lateritic substrata.
Felt. This diminutive variety of foliogenous ecto-humus may
be regarded as “consolidated velum” or as “embryonic mor.” It
consists of a thin layer of partly decomposed, laminated or com¬
pressed litter, interwoven by fungous mycelia or roots of ground
cover vegetation. It does not exceed % of an inch in thickness
and is underlain by a humus-free mineral soil.
Felt layers, or “thin mors,” are encountered most frequently
on podzolized lat§ritic soils, especially those of the southern
Appalachians (Hoover, 1949), where they appear to form a
stable type of forest humus development. Similar oligorganic
layers are also found near the podzol belt of mountain forests of
conifers or hardwoods with rhododendron ground cover
(Ohmasa, 1951) ; their occurrence often coincides with incipient
podzolization. In many instances, felt layers represent a tempo¬
rary successional phase in soil development, caused either by
natural alterations of forest milieu, fire, or planting of podzol¬
forming species.
Crypto-mull. A leucorganic endo-humus similar to velum,
except that litter rests on pale-colored soil enriched in nitrogen
by infiltration of protein-bearing humates. The depth of the
humate infiltration, varying from about one to three feet, may
be best established by the Kjeldahl analysis. As a rule, the upper
portion of the mineral soil contains more than 0.1 per cent of the
total nitrogen (Wilde, 1951).
Crypto-mull is distributed in warm and moist climates, pre¬
dominantly on fine textured soils of either sialitic or lateritic
substrata (southern portion of the Grey-Brown Podzolic soils,
Planosols, and Yellow Podzolic soils). It owes its existence to
mild environmental conditions under which the nearly instanta¬
neous and complete breakdown of litter is accompanied by the
destruction of dark pigmentation. It may be suspected that the
processes of decomposition of organic remains and accumulation
of non-pigmented proteinaceous suspensions are largely accom¬
plished by the activity of bacteria and actinomycetes. In some
1954] Wilde — Classification of Forest Humus 153
instances soils with crypto-mull humus support exacting hard¬
woods that attain a yield of nearly 40,000 b.f. per acre.
Microbiotic Mull. The plant remains in this endorganic type
undergo gradual decay rather than the disintegration or destruc¬
tion caused by arthropods or earthworms in zoogenous types.
The litter, therefore, is characterized by the presence of coarse
fragments of leaves which tend to resist decomposition. It pre¬
serves a reasonably loose structure, although it has a tendency
to form localized “lumps.” The dark A1 horizon, or mull layer
proper, has a finely aggregated, massive, or single grain struc¬
ture ; it varies in thickness from a few inches to nearly two feet.
The carbonized colloidal residue is distributed in the soil profile
largely in the form of suspensions or pseudo-solutions (Maran,
1944). In some instances, the translocation of organic matter is
aided by migration of microorganisms, particularly nematodes.
There is a strong probability that the development of micro¬
biotic mull was at times attributed to purely chemical processes
and this form identified with “pseudo-mull,” “abiotic orthumus”
(Lang, 1932), or “chemorganic humus” (Frei, 1946). Investiga¬
tions employing the use of the molecular filter developed by Clark
et al. (1951), however, suggested that “abiotic” humus layers
have very restricted distribution. Perhaps “hydrosolic stains” of
alkali soils and “infra-melazones” formed in some poorly drained
soils (U.S.D.A., 1938, p. 113) may qualify as chemogenic phe¬
nomena. Microbiotic mull is sometimes classified as “firm mull,”
a highly unfortunate designation since this type of humus layer
usually has a soft, mellow consistency and fine grain structure of
very stable aggregates.
Mull layers formed predominantly by the action of microor¬
ganisms are widely distributed throughout the forests of the
world and have numerous morphological varieties determined by
texture of the mineral soil, content of organic matter, and thick¬
ness of the endorganic layer. Such varieties may be characterized
by a combination of the following terms: lean, rich, shallow,
deep, sandy, fine-textured, aggregated, dense, and amorphous.
Earthworm Mull. This is the prototype of the mull group
and the best known representative of the zoogenous or coproge-
nous form of humus development. It received the particular
attention of both Muller and Darwin. In fact, Darwin went so
far as to suggest that the expression “animal mould” might be
more appropriate than “vegetable mould” (Glinka, 1931, p. 39).
The devouring of organic debris by worms and their burrow¬
ing produce an intimate mixture of mineral and organic matter
covered by a thin, often sporadic layer of forest litter. The struc¬
ture of the endorganic horizon is determined by the size of earth-
154 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
worms; Lumbricus and other large worms produce coarse or
crumb-like aggregates of castings, whereas small worms produce
fine grain-like aggregates.
Earthworm mull layers form surface horizons of many soils
in the temperate zone, particularly those belonging to the groups
of weakly podzolized soils, melanized or brownearth soils, and
prairie-forest soils in advanced stages of their metamorphosis.
As a general rule, the occurrence of this humus type is confined
to fine-textured substrata influenced by the ground water table,
extended capillary fringe, or seepage, and supporting hardwood
stands. Occasionally, however, earthworm mulls are found under
mixed hardwood-coniferous and even pure coniferous stands.
The rate of forest growth on soils with this type of humus varies
from about 20,000 b.f. to a few cords per acre, and hence gen¬
eralizations concerning the beneficial effects of earthworms on
forest growth are utterly unjustifiable.
Arthropod Mull. The activity of crustaceans, mites, milli¬
pedes, and insects causes the disintegration or pulverization of
forest litter and leads to an accumulation of organic remains in
the form of a detritus enriched in castings and shells of animals.
Depending upon humus-forming organisms and nature of litter,
the organic layer attains an appearance of brownish bran, finely
ground dark-brown coffee, or very fine black sawdust. In a pure
form, arthropod mull is essentially a superficial deposit and from
a strictly morphological view-point should be regarded as a
transition to the mor group of humus (Hartmann, 1951). In
some instances the depth of the ectorganic layer of arthropod
mull exceeds six inches, and the loss on ignition exceeds 70 per
cent. If it were not for the ambiguous homonym, this form
should have been designated as “mor-like mull.”
The distribution of arthropod mull embraces a wide range of
climatic conditions, including those of the cold and humid belt
of Canada. In the majority of cases, this type is confined to soils
derived from calcareous rocks and deposits, including those with
pronounced podzol profiles. The rate of growth of forest stands
on soils with this humus type varies from a few cords, produced
by struggling oaks on melanized rendzinas in the American mid¬
west, to 30,000 b.f., produced by spruce and other conifers on
calcareous podzols or Grey Wooded Soils of Canada.
Sward or Root Mull. The term “sward,” synonymous with
“turf” and “sod,” is defined by Webster as “The upper stratum
of earth and vegetable mold filled with the roots of grass and
other small plants.” This definition fits admirably the concept of
a rhizogenous endo-humus developed by incomplete decomposi¬
tion of roots of herbaceous vegetation and found universally in
Wilde— Classification of Forest Humus
155
1954]
prairie, semi-desert, and alpine meadow regions. When either of
these formations is invaded by the forest, the humus layer may
remain rhizogenous in nature for a period of several centuries
(Pierce, 1951) ; only gradually does it undergo a metamorphosis
into mull or other forest-originated forms of forest floor. When
the small density of forest cover allows the existence of a solid
grass cover, the rhizogenous humus layers of prairie-forest and
desert-forest ecotones are maintained for an indefinitely long
time by root systems of herbaceous vegetation. For example, the
greater share of humus layers in pine stands of southern and
central Wisconsin (Sparta, Boone, Plainfield, and Dunning
series) are originated from grasses, sedges, and prairie herbs,
rather than forest litter. The same is true in many open stands
of ponderosa pine of lower elevations or sporadic spruce stands
of high mountains. An apparent morphological similarity be¬
tween sward and earthworm mull layers is purely coincidental;
as often as not, sward layers harbor no earthworms.
Depending upon climatic conditions and nature of herbaceous
cover, three types of rhizogenous endo-humus may be recognized :
prairie sward, alpine sward, and grassland sward. In a more
detailed way, these types may be classified as: bluejoint sward,
gramma sward, fescue sward, bunchgrass sward, etc. Swards of
different geographic regions vary in thickness from two feet
(prairie sward) to a few inches (grassland sward) ; their con¬
tent of organic matter ranges from a fraction of 1 per cent to
more than 20 per cent (alpine sward) .
Fen Mull. This type of saprogenous endo-humus of mildly
acid or alkaline reaction is found on lowland soils underlain at a
shallow depth by ground water enriched in bases. It is composed
of sparse forest litter and a muck-like layer of partly mineral,
partly organic material varying in depth from about two to eight
inches. The organic matter is finely dispersed and usually satu¬
rated with calcium and magnesium. The name for this hydro-
morphic form of humus is construed on the basis of terminology
for organic deposits advanced by Dr. Oswald of Sweden (Tacke,
1929).
This type is formed under the influence of hydrolysis and
activity of anaerobic bacteria, protozoa, and other inhabitants of
water-logged soils. Periodic saturation of the humus layer does
not necessarily prevent the existence of a rich population of
organisms, including enchytraeids and larger worms. It is pos¬
sible that some free oxygen is provided by algae.
Fen mull is distributed throughout the entire broad zone of
mesophytic hardwoods, being particularly common in the prairie-
forest region. The predominant forest stands are made up of
156 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
moisture-loving deciduous trees, such as white and slippery elm,
black ash, swamp white oak, red maple, river birch, gums, cot¬
tonwood, and willows. As a rule, these stands have a very slow
rate of growth and high percentage of cull.
Duff Mull or Amphimorph. This is a stable type of ectendo-
humus forming the transition between mull and mor (Wilde,
1946 ; Lafond, 1951 ; Hoover et al., 1951) . It is made up of forest
litter (L), disintegrated organic debris (F + H), and a layer
with incorporated humus (Ax). It is common on a vast area of
podzolic soils of plains and mountains, strongly degraded
prairie-forest soils, and podzolized brownearths. This type is the
result of the activity of several groups of organisms, which at
times include microbes, worms, and arthropods. It has several
pronounced morphological varieties determined by the nature of
its ectorganic and endorganic fractions, e.g. friable duff-crumb
mull, arthropod duff-grain mull, and matted duff-sand mull.
Favorable seedbed conditions and a generally high rate of stand
growth are important characteristics of soils with this humus
layer.
Lichen Mor. The thin firmly consolidated crust-like layer of
ecto-humus is derived largely from tissue of Cladonia lichens and
is sometimes referred to as “crust mor” or “lichen crust.” It
occurs predominantly on rock outcrops, aeolian sands, and burnt-
over areas in the region of podzol and podzolic soils, but may also
be found on infertile substrata in other soil provinces. Soils with
this type of forest floor usually support slow growing conifers,
especially pines and black spruce. The shallow depth of the
humus layer is largely due to the poverty of soil and sparse pro¬
duction of organic matter by stands lacking understory; the
activity of ascomycetous symbionts of the lichen, especially their
strong acidifying effect, may be a contributing factor. Lichen
mor retains uniform morphology throughout the world.
Root Mor. A tenacious, strongly acid ectorganic layer of this
type is interwoven by a dense network of roots of ground cover
plants. It is found mainly on podzols of sandy or sandy loam
texture supporting conifers with ground cover of Vacciniaceae,
particularly blueberries. This form of rhizogenous ecto-humus
was previously described in detail by Romell and Heiberg (1931)
under the name of “fibrous mor.” Morphological varieties are
determined largely by the nature of humus-forming plants.
Occasionally a variety of rhizogenous mor is formed by the fine
roots of hardwoods, particularly hard maple and beech growing
on podzolized soils.
Mycelial Mor or Ligno-Mycelial Mor. This is the typical
representative of “raw humus.” It consists of a firmly consoli-
1954] Wilde — Classification of Forest Humus 157
dated ectorganic layer derived in a large part from fungous
mycelia penetrating the partly decomposed forest litter. It is
sharply delineated from the bleached mineral soil and varies in
thickness from two to about eight inches. This type is confined
to upland podzols and strongly podzolized soils which support
dense coniferous and hardwood-coniferous stands with ground
cover of shade-tolerant acidophilous, so-called “raw humus”
plants. The upper portion of the mycelial mor often exhibits
fairly high biological activity. However, the consumption of the
cellulose fraction of litter by microorganisms and the accumula¬
tion of decay-resistant fungous mycelia arrests are activity of
fungi and thus converts mycelial mor into a ligno-mycelial or a
lignified mor (Hartmann, 1951). Such metamorphosis takes
place largely in the dense virgin stands of conifers and is espe¬
cially pronounced in the lower portion of the ectorganic layer.
The presence of a thick mycelial or lignified mor is in no way
correlated with the depressed rate of forest growth; soils with
this type of forest floor are known to support stands of white
pine and spruce whose yields approach 50,000 b.f. per acre.
Sog Mor. This hydromorphic form consists of a thick layer of
ecto-humus of amorphous, macerated, or fibrous structure. It is
underlain either by an ashy grey podzol horizon or a leached
layer stained with humates. This type is confined to the boreal
forest regions where it occurs on gley podzols underlain at a
shallow depth by a ground water table. The name “sog” is bor¬
rowed from English dialect and means to soak or to saturate.
The development of sog mor proceeds in part under hydrolysis
and periodic anaerobic fermentation or saprogenation. These
processes, however, are often supplemented by the activity of
various other humus-forming agents including fungi and arthro¬
pods. The entire course of biological activity of these layers is
greatly affected by periodic fluctuations of the ground water
table. The forest cover is composed predominantly of conifers
with some birch, aspen, and other incidental deciduous trees.
Occasionally, saprogenous mor is formed on water-retaining
rock outcrops, particularly those of calcareous origin ; the latter
variety was classified as “alkaline raw humus” or “rendzina
mor” (Galloway, 1940).
Moss Mor. This name designates a type of forest floor transi¬
tional between mor humus and peat. It is characterized by a
peculiar “stratum superficiale,” or S-layer (Forsslund, 1943),
consisting of live Sphagnum and sometimes Polytrichum mosses.
Under climatic conditions of boreal regions and high mountains
excessive humidity permits growth of bog moss species on swamp
borders as well as on upland soils with somewhat impeded drain-
158 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
age. Once established, bog mor produces radical changes in the
ecological status of the area, especially by decreasing the aera¬
tion and temperature of the soil. Aside from adverse physical
effects, this type causes impoverishment of the root-inhabited
zone through permanent fixation of available nutrients by the
LEGEND
ECTO -HUMUS
CRYPTO-HUMUS
iH
AEROBIC
ENDO-HUMUS
SAPROGENOUS
ENDO-HUMUS
Figure 3. Profiles of the major types of forest humus layers (.schematic
presentation) : (1) VELUM (oligorganic ecto-humus) ; (2) CRYPTO¬
MULL (leucorganic endo-humus) ; (3) EARTHWORM MULL (zoogenous
endo-humus) ; (4) PRAIRIE SWARD (rhizogenous endo-humus) ; (5)
FEN MULL (.saprogenous endo-humus); (6) LICHEN CRUST MOR
(oligorganic ecto-humus) ; (7) DUFF MULL (amphimorphic ectendo-
humus) ; (8) MYCELIAL MOR (mycogenous ecto-humus) ; (9) SOG MOR
(saprogenous ectendo-humus) ; (10) MOSS MOR (microbiologically inert
Sphagnum ecto-humus) .
tissue of moss cover. In time the combination of all these adverse
influences leads to the replacement of the forest by Chamae -
daphne muskeg, Sphagnum fuscum bog, and similar types of
“xerophytic” swamps that deny sustenance to trees.
The analytical data which provided the framework for the
proposed classification were previously published by the author
1954]
Wilde— -Classification of Forest Humus
159
Figure 4. Structural features of representative types of humus layers: (1) Microbiotic mull; (2) Arthropod fine
mull; (3) Earthworm crumb mull; (4) Rhizogenous prairie sward; (5) Saprogenous fen mull; (6) Arthropod
bran mor; (7) Mycelial mor; (8) Lignified mor; (9) Saprogenous sog mor; (10) Sphagnum moss mor.
160 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
and his collaborators (Wilde, Buran, and Galloway, 1937 ; Gallo¬
way, 1940; Rosendahl, 1943; Wilde, Wilson, and White, 1949;
Lafond, 1950a, 1950b, and 1951 ; Pierce, 1951 ; Wilde, 1951 ;
Wilde and Mader, 1952; Mader, 1953a and 1953b; Davey and
Mader, 1953). Figures 3 and 4 illustrate schematically the mor-
Min, concentration
of soluble salts
Low T°
High HgO
Ground, water
Low T°
Eigh T°
High H20
High T°
Low HgO
Max. concentration
of soluble salts
Figure 5. Schematic distribution of genetic types of forest humus in rela¬
tion to temperature and moisture.
phology of the important humus layers. Figure 5 gives an out¬
line of the distribution of the major forms of forest humus in
relation to climatic conditions. With an increased temperature
the microbiotic mull is replaced by oligorganic forms of crypto¬
mull and velum. Cold regions, on the other hand, are marked by
the occurrence of different types of mor humus. An increase in
1954] Wilde — Classification of Forest Humus 161
soil moisture brings about the development of earthworm mull
and saprogenous types of either endo- or ecto-humus. Deficiency
of water is manifested by prominence of grass cover and the
development of rhizogenous sward forms.
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NOTES ON WISCONSIN PARASITIC FUNGI. XX
H. C. Greene
Department of Botany, University of Wisconsin, Madison
This series of notes is based principally on collections made
during the seasons of 1952 and 1953.
Endoconidiophora fagacearum is the name given by T. W.
Bretz (Phytopath. 42: 436. 1952) to the sphaeriaceous perfect
stage of Chalara quercina Henry, the fungus causing oak wilt,
widespread in Wisconsin and neighboring states. According to
Ainsworth and Bisby, Endoconidiophora Munch, is synonymous
with Ophio stoma Syd.
Phaeosphaeria sp. occurs on telia of the microcyclic Puccinia
silphii Schw. on Silphium laciniatum, collected at Arlington,
Columbia Co., August 22, 1952. The perithecia simulate the
pycnidia of Darluca filum in size and general appearance. They
are scattered or clustered, somewhat more than globose, about
65 /x wide by 80^ high, pseudoparenchymatous, and sooty. The
asci are clavate, about 60 x 15/x, while the ascospores are 20 x 6/x,
3 septate, and clear olivaceous. Since this differs materially from
Eudarluca, said to be the perfect stage of Darluca filum, it is
supposed there is no connection between the Phaeosphaeria and
D. filum.
Metasphaeria galiorum Sacc. has been collected in mature
condition on overwintered stems of Galium aparine at Madison,
May 13, 1953. It seems possible that the fungus initiated its
development the preceding season as a parasite. The conspicu¬
ously erumpent perithecia appear to have originated subepi-
dermally.
Elsinoe veneta (Burkh.) Jenkins, the name for the perfect
stage of the organism causing cane and leaf blight of Rubus occi¬
dental^ and R. alley heniensis in Wisconsin, was reported in
these notes (Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci. 32: 80. 1940) as E. veneta
(Speg.) Jenkins, since at that time it was not known that
“Gloeosporium” venetum Speg. is not the Sphaceloma imperfect
stage of the cane blight, as later determined by Jenkins and
Shear (Phytopath. 36: 1043. 1946). According to Jenkins and
Shear, Ellis and Everhart described the North American organ¬
ism under the name Gloeosporium necator, and the latter authors
provide the name Sphaceloma necator (E. & E.) Jenkins & Shear
for the imperfect stage.
165
166 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
Elsinoe sp. on Desmodium illinoense. A mature specimen was
collected on the C. & N. W. R. R. right-of-way, south of Ipswich,
Lafayette Co. (approx. 3 miles SE of Platteville, Wis.), August
16, 1951. This does not appear to be one of the species which
have been treated or distributed by Jenkins and Bitancourt. The
stromata are grayish crustose-convolute, moderately elevated,
mostly rather small and irregularly rounded or elongate, hypo-
phyllous, asci subglobose, about 15-25 y diam., rather irregularly
dispersed throughout the stroma; ascospores hyaline, cylindric,
approx. 11 x 4/i, 3 septate, number per ascus uncertain. Imma¬
ture specimens collected near Delavan, Walworth Co., August 20,
1951, and near Brodhead, Green Co., August 9, 1952, bear what
is assumed to be a Sphaceloma stage in which, lacking well-
defined conidiophores, the conidia are produced in considerable
numbers over the surface of the stromata. These conidia are
hvaline, one-celled, subcylindric to ovoid, 4-6 x 3-3.5 fx. In my
Notes XVII (Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci. 41: 122. 1952) this material
was discussed as a questionable Tuberculina, for the perfect
stage was detected only after later prepared permanent sections
were studied.
Taphrina hiratsukae Nishida, according to Mix, replaces
the name T. struthiopteridis Nishida, a synonym, for the fungus
on Pteretis nodulosa (Onoclea struthiopteris) in Wisconsin.
Taphrina communis (Sadeb.) Giesenh. is the name under
which Wisconsin specimens on Prunus, formerly listed under
T. mirabilis (Atk.) Giesenh., are now cited since, according to
Mix, the latter name is a synonym.
Phyllosticta sp. on Carya cordiformis from the New Glarus
Woods, Green Co., September 4, 1952, is a micro-form with hya¬
line, rod-shaped conidia 4 x 1/x, borne in small, black, globose
pycnidia about 55-65/x diam., which are clustered on rather in¬
definite yellow and brown marginal spots. This does not match
any of the early descriptions of Phyllosticta on Carya that I have
seen. It is very likely the precursor of a perfect stage.
Phyllosticta sp. on shredded, dead areas on leaflets of Gym-
nocladus dioica perhaps developed parasitically, but the lateness
of the season makes this questionable. Coll, at Madison, Septem¬
ber 27, 1952. The pycnidia are subglobose, approx. 200/x diam,,
the conidia hyaline, 6-10 x 3-3. 5/x. Seemingly not Phyllosticta
gymnocladi Tehon & Daniels.
Phyllosticta sp. on leaves of Zizia aptera at Madison, Sep¬
tember 16, 1952, is similar to, but not identical with, an earlier
collection made at the same station (Amer. Midi. Nat. 41: 715.
1949). In the current specimen the spots are flat white, angled,
tending to be delimited by the venation. The pycnidia are epi-
1954] Greene — Wisconsin Parasitic Fungi , XX 167
phyllous, large and prominent, approx. 200-250/* diam., black,
subglobose. The conidia are straight, rigid, rod-shaped, 5-7 x
1.5-2 /*.
Coniothyrium (?) sp. is possibly parasitic on leaves of Acer
saccharum, collected at Madison, August 2, 1952. The largely
superficial pycnidia are flattened and imperfectly developed
below and are epiphyllous on large, irregular, reddish-brown
lesions. They are shining black, mostly about 70-100/* in greatest
diam. The conidia are clear gray and short-cylindric, 3-5.5 x
3-3.5/*.
Piioma sp. occurs on the green upper stem of a plant of
Anychia (Paronychia) canadensis collected at Red Rock, Lafay¬
ette Co., July 24, 1948. The sooty-black subglobose pycnidia are
deeply seated, about 55-75./* diam. The hyaline conidia are sub-
fusoid, 6—10 x 2.5-3.5/x. Unquestionably parasitic, but too small
a specimen for descriptive purposes. There is no report in Sey¬
mour of any fungus on this inconspicuous little host, so that
Septoria anychiae, described by me (Amer. Midi. Nat. 48: 52.
1952) would seem to be the only other fungus record.
Sphaeropsis foliicola (B. & R.) Sacc., which has been col¬
lected several times on leaves of cultivated specimens of Cratae¬
gus on the University of Wisconsin campus at Madison, appears
to have developed in intimate association with aborted aecia of
presumed Gymnosporangium globosum. Even on leaves where
no rust infection is obvious there are small, closely clustered,
flask-shaped bodies in the center portions of the Sphaeropsis
spots, which appear to be immature pycnia. Whether the
Sphaeropsis was the primary agent in suppressing the rust, or
is only weakly parasitic, or perhaps even saprophytic is unclear.
Ascochyta on leaves of Abutilon theophrasti, at Madison,
August 7, 1952, seems not to be Ascochyta abutilonis Hollos. The
latter species is said to have conidia 8-9 x 3-4/*, while in the
Madison specimen they are 11-16 x 4-4. 5/*. In other than spore
length, however, the current specimen corresponds fairly well
with the description. The pycnidia are epiphyllous, single, or few
and scattered on sordid whitish to tan spots which are variously
rounded.
Ascochyta sp. on Leonurus cardiaca, collected near Poynette,
Columbia Co., September 3, 1952, is on a dull black orbicular
lesion about 1.5 cm. diam. The olivaceous, thin-walled pycnidia
are subglobose, about 125-175/* diam., the hyaline conidia 11-20
x 3.5-5/*. A specimen on the same host on a similar lesion, from
Madison, has pycnidia about 125/*, and conidia 7-12 x 3-3.5/*.
Both differ from an earlier specimen on Leonurus (Trans. Wis.
Acad. Sci. 36: 248. 1944) where the angled, subzonate, blackish-
168 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48
brown spots are 2-3 mm. diam., and none match the description
of Ascochyta leonuri Ell. & Dearn. with numerous small spots
1-1.5 mm. diam. and conidia 14-17 x 3.5-4/*.
Darluca filum (Biv.) Cast, has been found on aborted aecia
of Puccinia extensicola on Aster shortii at a station near Monti-
cello, Green Co., June 10, 1952, adding to a still small, but grow¬
ing series of this normally uredial parasite on aecia. In this con¬
nection, D. filum was found on telia of Puccinia violae on Viola
eriocarpa at Poynette, Columbia Co., August 6, 1952.
Stagonospora sp. was collected on leaves of Scirpus atro-
virens at Madison, June 28, 1952. There seem to be no American
records of Stagonospora on Scirpus and the European species so
listed do not match the present specimen. The fungus is epi-
phyllous on elongate fusoid lesions which are a dull, pale brown
with a narrow darker border. The black, globose pycnidia are
gregarious to crowded, about 150-175/* diam. The conidia are
large, 35-50 x 8-10/* , 5-7-septate, hyaline, markedly guttulate,
almost straight to moderately curved, usually tapered at both
ends. Parasitism is questionable, as the leaves also bear Xeno-
gloea eriophori (Bres.) Syd.
Stagonospora sp. occurred on a leaf of Habenaria fiava, col¬
lected near Avoca in Iowa Co., June 26, 1953. The numerous sub-
globose, sooty-black pycnidia are about 150-175 /* diam., gregari¬
ous on elongate, immarginate, reddish-brown spots. The conidia
are hyaline, 3-4-septate, variable in shape from curved-obclavate
to sublunate, or even vermiform, approx. 20-32 x 3. 5-4. 5/*.
Stagonospora sp. on Asclepias tuberosa, collected at Madison,
August 20, 1952, seems identical with a form on Acerates lanu¬
ginosa, discussed in my Notes XVI (Amer. Midi. Nat. 48: 745.
1952). The lesions are those of Stagonospora zonata J. J. Davis,
but the spores, which are 7-septate and about 50 x 9-10/*, are
entirely outside the range of that species. If more examples are
found, in view of the characteristic lesions, it would perhaps be
advisable to describe this as a large-spored variety of S. zonata.
Hendersonia Mali Thum. has, according to Hesler (Myco-
logia 19: 222. 1927), a Pleospora perfect stage, as shown by
studies of material from blighted apple twigs. However, H. mali
was described as occurring on living leaves of apple, and the
North American Fungi specimen No. 2164 very closely matches
the original description, both in lesion and in microscopic char¬
acters. Of considerable interest is the fact that in my Notes XVII
(Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci. 41: 117. 1952) I described Mycosphaer-
ella sp. on apple leaf lesions which are very similar to those in
N. A. F. 2164. 1 was unaware of this resemblance at the time the
note was written but, on the basis of it, it seems possible that
1954] Greene — Wisconsin Parasitic Fungi , XX 169
Hesler may have been dealing with a different, although similar
species of Hendersonia , and that the perfect stage of H. mali is
a species of Mycosphaerella rather than a Pleospora.
Septoria sp., of questionable parasitism, occurred on leaves of
Napaea dioica at New Glarus, Green Co., August 9, 1952. The
black, epiphyllous pycnidia are gregarious in small clusters on
portions of the leaves already brown and dead. The pycnidia are
subglobose, thin-walled, about 60-105/a diam. The spores are hya¬
line, continuous, acicular, straight or slightly curved, 17-26 x
1.2-1. 5 /a. There seems to be no previous report of any Septoria
on this host.
Septoria sp. occurred in sparse developments on leaves of
Pastinaca sativa at Madison, June 27, 1952. The few pycnidia
are on dull brown, orbicular, rather sharply delimited lesions,
about .5-1 cm. diam. The pycnidia are black with a subconical
apex, in general outline almost globose, about 80-100/a diam.,
with filiform, straight or slightly flexuous spores, about 18-24 x
1/a. In the field it was thought that this was probably Phomopsis
diachenii Sacc. which has been found in previous years on some¬
what similar lesions. However, there is absolutely no sign of the
fusoid Phoma- type conidia which are in vast preponderance in
the specimens of P. diachenii, and a comparison of the scoleco-
spores likewise shows a seeming difference, although in length
and thickness they are fairly similar. The pycnidia of P. dia¬
chenii are much larger than those of the specimen in question.
Septoria pastinacina Sacc. is reported as occurring on stems of
Pastinaca, and it seems possible that the Madison collection may
be that species, although in S. pastinacina the spots are said to
be diffuse and indefinite, the pycnidia 120-150 diam. and flat¬
tened, the spores filiform, curved or flexuose, 20-30 x .7-1/a.
Septoria sp. occurred in sparse development on leaves of
its external pycnidial characters, and occurring on rather similar
lesions on dead and languishing leaves of Aster pilosus, was
collected at Madison, July 16, 1952. On the same plants other
leaves bore S. astericola but, so far as microscopic examination
has disclosed, the organisms do not occur together on the same
leaves, and S. astericola would appear to be the more actively
parasitic. The unknown has short, relatively thick spores, 13-17
x 2.5-3/a, subcylindric to subfusoid, straight to moderately
curved, and usually with a well-defined median septum, but if
multiseptate only indistinctly so. Possibly referable to Ascochyta,
although the ratio of spore width to length does not favor such
a disposition.
Zythia fragariae Laibach ? occurs on leaves of Fragaria
virginiana, collected at Madison, August 14, 1952. The large,
170 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
brown, conspicuous, zonate lesions are marginal, of orbicular
outline, about 1.5-3 cm. diam. The epiphyllous, tan pycnidia are
scattered to gregarious, erumpent, subepidermal, rounded above
and flattened below, about 165-180/* wide by 120-130/* high.
There is a very noticeable ring of sordid-whitish, more or less
amorphous, perhaps mucilaginous material about the relatively
narrow ostiolar aperture. The entire inner pycnidial wall is lined
with closely ranked, slender, hyaline conidiophores, mostly about
8-10 x 1.5-2 /*, slightly enlarged below and tapering to a narrow
apex. There is a prominent convex cushion of pseudoparenchy-
matous cells in the lower flattened portion of the pycnidium, and
the basal conidiophore layer is arranged over this cushion. The
numerous conidia are hyaline and cylindric, 5-6.5 x 1.5-2/*.
Although the pycnidia appear mature, it seems entirely possible
that with age they may become darkened, so the assignment to
Zythia is tentative.
Zythia aurantiaca (Peck) Sacc., on the basis of many field
observations, occurs in Wisconsin in remarkably constant asso¬
ciation with and on twigs of Cornus alternifolia, but not on any
other species of Cornus. Seymour lists the fungus only on C.
alternifolia. In Wisconsin, seemingly without exception, any size¬
able shrub of C. alternofolia bears the fungus on one or more
dead or dying lower twigs.
Gloeosporium carpinicolum Ell. & Dearn. was described as
having minute, rod-shaped conidia 3-4 x 1.5-2/*. It seems pos¬
sible that specimens of Gloeosporium on Ostrya virginiana col¬
lected by me near Poynette, Columbia Co., in August 1952 and
by J. J. Davis at Lynxville, Crawford Co., in September, 1915,
may be identical or related forms. Davis labeled his specimen as
a questionable micro-conidial form of Gloeosporium robergei
Desm., and the lesions produced do seem closer to those charac¬
teristic of that species than to those of G. carpinicolum as
described.
Botrytis sp. appears parasitic on large, orbicular, conspicu¬
ous, grayish-brown zonate lesions on leaves of Thalictrum dasy-
carpum, collected at Madison, July 8, 1952. The spots have a
dendritic aspect at the outer margin and the whole is surrounded
by a wide yellow halo. Contrary to the situation in an earlier
specimen of Botrytis on this host (Farlowia 1: 577. 1944) there
was no previous Puccinia rubigo-vera infection.
Botrytis sp., which seems to have developed parasitically,
occurred on leaves of Rubus pubescens at Madison, July 6, 1952.
The fungus is amphigenous, but mostly hypophyllous, on sharply
defined orbicular tan spots which range from 2 mm. to about
1 cm. in diam. The unbranched conidiophores are usually few to
1954] Greene — Wisconsin Parasitic Fungi, XX 171
a spot. They are dark brown, shining, up to 2-3 mm. long, flexu-
ous, tending to be decumbent, septate, about 18-20/* wide, and
somewhat inflated at the sporiferous apex. The greenish-hyaline
conidia are broadly ellipsoid, smooth, 10-12 x 5-6/*.
Cladosporium sp. is sometimes observed localized on the prin¬
cipal veins on the under surface of leaves of Betula papyrifera
where its relation to the host as regards parasitism is uncertain.
An especially well-developed specimen was collected at Madison,
August 18, 1952. There is a minimal amount of non-fruiting
mycelium. The conidiophores are scattered as individuals or in
small clusters. They are pale brown, non-septate so far as
observed, straight to strongly curved, several times geniculate at
tip (which may be more or less strongly denticulate), approx.
35-40 x 4/*. The conidia, present in surprising profusion, consid¬
ering the scanty mycelium, are somewhat verrucose, yellowish-
gray, often slightly constricted at the septum, catenulate, with
truncate scars at each end, 13-19 x 4-6/*.
Cladosporium sp., evidently parasitic, occurred on living-
leaves of Coreopsis palmata at Madison, September 2, 1952. The
fungus is hypophyllous in effused patches. The conidiophores
arise individually, are rather thick-walled, dark brown, moder¬
ately curved to tortuous, 2-3-septate, usually constricted at the
septa, 35-65 x 4. 5-5. 5 /*. The tips are simple to once or twice
geniculate and are not noticeably paler than the rest of the
phore. Only a few conidia were seen. These were subelliptic, pale
olivaceous, smooth, 10-12 x 4-5/*.
Ramularia ( ?) which occurs on small rounded, grayish-brown
spots on leaves of Circaea alpina, from Parfrey’s Glen, Sauk Co.,
August 24, 1950, is quite similar to the dubious Ramularia
arisaematis discussed in my Notes X (Amer. Midi. Nat. 39: 447.
1948). The hyaline, cylindric spores are mostly 1-septate and
about 17-20 x 3.5/*, and seem to be produced in tufts without any
recognizable conidiophores. The spots are sharply delimited on
otherwise vigorous green leaves.
Cercospora sp. has been observed on leaves of Digitaria
ischaemum, collected near Suamico, Brown Co., September 14,
1952. There is no distinct spotting and the numerous small
fascicles are amphigenous over the entire browned leaf surface.
Microscopic notes are as follows: conidiophores pale grayish-
brown, non-septate, from straight to moderately curved, simple
or once geniculate at tip, 25-35 x 4-4.5/*, in small fascicles of
about 5-8, only slightly spreading, from a dark stromatoid base ;
conidia slender, mostly almost straight, pale grayish, narrowly
obclavate, obscurely 3-5-septate, about 35-55 x 3-3.5/*. Chupp
172 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
states that this is close to, if not identical with Cercospora fusi-
maculans Atk.
Epicoccum neglectum Desm. was reported in my Notes XII
(Amer. Midi. Nat. 41: 731. 1949) as a possible weak parasite of
soy bean in Wisconsin. Similar material has been collected on
hog peanut, Amphicarpa bracteata, at Madison, July 1953. The
distal portions of otherwise still healthy leaflets consistently bear
the fungus on languishing dull green to brownish areas.
Alternaria sp., which may be parasitic, occurs on pycnidia
of Septoria sibirica Thum. on Ribes missouriense from Madison,
July 19, 1952. The fungus is strictly confined to the pycnidia
which, in turn, are confined to small, sharply delimited, purple-
bordered spots. The conidia are muriform, short-clavate, about
40 x 10/a, with a short, obtuse beak. The phores are 65-80 x 5/t,
closely 6-8-septate, strongly curved above, non-geniculate, occa¬
sionally subtorulose, clear, light, uniform brown.
Stysanus sp., starting development in the fall of 1952 on liv¬
ing leaves of Physocarpus opulifolius, but not coming to maturity
until the following spring, has been observed and collected at
Madison. It seems possible, but has not been demonstrated, that
the spots were caused by Ramularia spiraeae Peck and that the
Stysanus is secondary. The fall of 1952 was the driest in some
eighty years in the Madison area, and it may be that the fungus
would have come to maturity had moisture conditions been more
nearly average. (On some of the spots on the overwintered
leaves are what appear to be immature perithecia, so perhaps in
a normal year the Stysanus would reach maturity in the current
season, to be followed by a perfect stage the following spring).
The following descriptive notes have been made : On living leaves
— spots rounded, dull brown, immarginate, 3-6 mm. diam.,
closely studded below with the immature coremia which super¬
ficially resemble the beaks of rostrate perithecia. On dead,
overwintered leaves — coremia hypophyllous, blackish-brown,
straight, columnar, composed of closely packed parallel hyphae,
approx. 475-600 x 17— 23/x, tapering to a moderately enlarged,
but not markedly or abruptly swollen base. In shape the fertile
heads are from clavate to almost globular, but do not account for
more than about 1/10 to y8 of the overall stalk length. Conidio-
phores subhyaline, faintly asperulate, about 3/a diam., mostly not
over 30/x long at point of departure from stalk, simple or closely
geniculate at tip. Conidia catentulate, hyaline, smooth, subfusoid,
6-10 x 2.5-3 /a, with rather conspicuous scars. Determination is
based on the Saccardian treatment which employs catenulation
or lack of it as a primary characteristic in separating the genera
of this group. It may be doubted that this is a reliable and con-
1954] Greene— Wisconsin Parasitic Fungi, XX 173
slant feature in differentiating Stysanus from Graphium. Col¬
lections of immature material, of mature specimens overwintered
in a wire cage, and of mature specimens gathered free under the
infected shrubs have been placed in the University of Wisconsin
Herbarium.
Spartina pectinata, collected September 21, 1952 near Mazo-
manie, Dane Co., had remarkably conspicuous, large, orbicular
leaf spots, with grayish centers and wide purplish-brown borders
on the upper surface of the leaves. On the lower surface and
coinciding with the spots, are wefts of sordid-whitish, largely
superficial, yet closely appressed mycelium. Microscopically this
mycelium is hyaline, thin-walled, septate, and somewhat verru-
cose. If not parasitic it would seem that there is at least some
sort of correlation with the spotting, which occurred throughout
a large clone of the host and was noticeable from a distance of
many feet. There is nothing to indicate any insect infestation as
being responsible for the symptoms.
Fungi which seem essentially superficial, are usually sterile,
and ordinarily have dark mycelium bearing sclerotia or sclero-
tium-like bodies have been collected occasionally in Wisconsin
overrunning the leaves of living plants to a degree that, although
they are not parasites, they probably are detrimental to the
plants bearing them. A notable example is so-called Sclerotio-
myces colchicus Woron. occurring on many and diverse host
substrates. A recent find on leaves of Solidago nemoralis, from
Madison, July 1952, is of interest. In the field this was assumed
to be an extra heavy and profuse growth of Cladosporium asteri-
cola, often found on species of Solidago in Wisconsin. Micro¬
scopic examination, however, shows a seemingly superficial
Cicinnobolus- like fungus with profuse, dark, faintly toruloid
mycelium on which are borne clusters of subcylindric, widely
open, more less pedicellate pycnidia, in which are hyaline, rod¬
shaped microconidia. If a powdery mildew is present it has been
suppressed to the point where it is not detectable on ordinary
inspection.
Additional Hosts
The following hosts have not been previously recorded as
bearing the fungi mentioned in Wisconsin.
Plasmopara halstedii (Farl.) Berk & DeToni on Cacalia
suaveolens. Dane Co., Madison, July 7, 1953. Seemingly the first
report on any species of Cacalia.
Elsinoe veneta (Burkh.) Jenkins on Rubus allegheniensis.
Lafayette Co., near Platteville, August 16, 1952. On leaves. Det.
Jenkins & Bitancourt.
174 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
Lophodermium juniperinum (Fr.) DeNot. on Juniperus
chinensis var. pfitzeriana (cult.). Dane Co., Madison, March 15,
1953.
Puccinia graminis Pers. II, III on Arrenatherum elatius.
Dane Co., Madison, Univ. Wis. Hill Farm, October 21, 1947.
Coll. J. G. Dickson.
Puccinia coronata Cda. II on Lolium multiflorum. Dane Co.,
Univ. Wis. Hill Farm, October 21, 1947. Coll. J. G. Dickson.
Puccinia schedonnardi Kell. & Sw. II on Sporobolus asper.
Rock Co., Beloit, June 21, 1953. Coll. R. W. Curtis. Seemingly
the first report on S. asper, and also the first collection from
Wisconsin on any species of Sporobolus.
Puccinia minutissima Arth. Ill on Carex lasiocarpa. Wau¬
paca Co., White Lake at Weyauwega, September 13, 1931. Coll.
N. C. Fassett & J. W. Rhodes. On a phanerogamic specimen in
the University of Wisconsin Herbarium. Several collections have
been made of the aecial stage on Decodon verticillatus.
Puccinia extensicola Plowr. I on Solidago ohioensis. Jeffer¬
son Co., near Lake Mills, June 15, 1953.
Uromyces acuminatus Arth. I on Phlox glaberrima. Kenosha
Co., near Kenosha, June 26, 1953. Coll. J. Butler.
Uromyces hyperici (Spreng.) Curt. I on Hypericum sphaero-
carpum. Rock Co., Beloit, June 14, 1953. Coll. R. W. Curtis.
Cintractia junci (Schw.) Trel. on J uncus greenei. Dane Co.,
Madison, June 24, 1953. Adjacent to a massive infection of plants
of J uncus dudleyi .
Phyllosticta minutissima Ell. & Ev. on Acer saccharum.
Sauk Co., Baxter’s Hollow, Town of Sumpter, September 1, 1952.
Coll. D. H. Hall.
Phyllosticta decidua Ell. & Kell, on Boehmeria cylindrica.
Sauk Co., Ferry Bluff, Town of Prairie du Sac, July 11, 1952.
Also on Cicuta maculata, Dane Co., Madison, July 6, 1952.
Cicinobolus CESATI DeBary on Microsphaera euphoribae on
Euphorbia preslii. Dane Co., Madison, September 20, 1952; on
Erysiphe galeopsidis on Teucrium canadense var. virginicum.
Iowa Co., near Arena, September 21, 1952; on Microsphaera
alni on Syringa vulgaris. Dane Co., Madison, September 25,
1952; on Sphaerotheca humuli var. fuliginea on Agastache
scrophulariae folia. Green Co., New Glarus Woods, August 23,
1949.
Darluca filum (Biv.) Cast, on Puccinia angustata II on
Scirpus cyperinus var. pelius. Green Co., near Monticello,
August 5, 1952.
1954]
Greene — Wisconsin Parasitic Fungi , XX
175
Selenophoma donacis var. stomaticola (Bauml.) Spr. & Johns,
on Elymus virginicus. Dane Co., Belleville, September 13, 1952.
Confined to the sheaths where it has produced no distinct
spotting.
Colletotrichum graminicola (Ces.) Wils. on Digitaria
ischaemum. Brown Co., near Suamico, September 14, 1952. Coll.
N. V. DeByle.
Colletotrichum violae-rotundifoliae (Sacc.) House on
Viola adunca. Oconto Co., near Sobieski, September 19, 1952.
Coll. N. V. DeByle.
Cercospora cypericola Chupp & Greene on Cyperus hough -
tonii. Douglas Co., Gordon, July 17, 1907. Coll. J. J. Davis. Orig¬
inally filed as a doubtful specimen of C. caricina Ell. & Dearn.
Cercospora juncina Sacc. on Juncus greenei. Sauk Co., near
Spring Green, August 12, 1952. Det. Chas. Chupp, who informs
me that Cercospora junci J. J. Davis is a synonym. Also re¬
ported from Wisconsin on J. brachycephalus , J. brevicaudatus,
and J. dudleyi.
Cercosporella dearnessii Bub. & Sacc. on Soldigo canaden¬
sis , Racine Co., Racine, September 4, 1893. Coll. J. J. Davis.
Originally determined as Cercosporella cana Sacc. from which
it seems distinct.
Tuberculina persicina (Ditm.) Sacc. on Puccinia vexans I
on Acerates viridi flora. Dane Co., near Sauk City, September 25,
1952.
Additional Species
The fungi mentioned have not been previously reported as
occurring in Wisconsin.
Sphaerella (Mycosphaerella) sicyicola Ell. & Ev. on
Sicyos angulatus. Dane Co., Madison, August 30, 1952.
Elsinoe solidaginis Jenkins on Aster linariifolius. Sauk Co.,
near Spring Green, August 12, 1952. On stems and leaves. A very
interesting find which corresponds well macroscopically with
specimens on Solidago, and microscopically closely matches
Jenkin’s description (Jour. Agr. Res. 51: 522. 1935). Most, if
not all the specimens naturally occurring on Solidago seem to
have been taken in Florida, so the Wisconsin collection greatly
extends the range. It is of possible significance that the host was
growing on almost pure sand, where daytime temperatures are
often very high, so that if high temperatures favor this species,
the habitat met the requisite condition. The Sphaceloma stage
has not been seen in the Wisconsin material.
176 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
Taphrina AMERICANA Mix on Betula papyrifera. Douglas Co.,
Solon Springs, June 14, 1914. Coll. J. J. Davis and originally
determined as Taphrina betulina Rostr. According to Mix the
latter species does not occur in North America.
Taphrina robinsoniana Giesenh. on Alnus rugosa (A. incana
of earlier reports). Manitowoc Co., Two Rivers, July 31, 1917.
Coll. J. J. Davis. Other collections from Ashland, Burnett, Door,
Douglas, Kewaunee, Sauk, Vilas and Washington Cos. Earlier
reported as T. alni-incanae (Kuehn.) Magn., itself a synonym of
T. amentorum (Sadeb.) Rostr., which does not occur in the U. S.,
according to Mix.
Taphrina flavorubra Ray on Prunus pnmila. Adams Co.,
Adams, June 22, 1917. Coll. J. J. Davis. Other specimens are
from Douglas, Jackson, Manitowoc, Marinette, Portage, Rich¬
land, Vilas and Waushara Cos. All originally determined as
T. communis (Sadeb.) Giesenh., which does not occur on Prunus
pumila, according to Mix.
Taphrina WIESNeri (Rathay) Mix on Prunus pennsylvanica.
Jackson Co., Millston, June 23, 1916. Coll. J. J. Davis. Other
specimens are from Adams, Door, Grant, Green, Manitowoc,
Portage, Sauk and Waushara Cos. Earlier reported as T. insiti-
tiae (Sadeb.) Johans, which is, according to Mix, a synonym of
T. pruni.
Aecidium avocensis Cummins & Greene sp. nov.
Spermogoniis non visis. Aeciis hypophyllis, ad nervos aggre¬
gate, cupulatis, 0.3-0. 5 mm. diam., margine lacerato; aecio-
sporae globoideae (13-) 15-20 x (13-) 16-21 (-23)/x, membrana
hyaline, verrucosa, (2-) 3-3.5/x cr.
Spermogonia not found, perhaps not formed. Aecia hypo-
phyllous on chlorotic areas, tending to be grouped along the
veins, 0.3-0. 5 mm. in diam., cupulate, yellowish, opening apically,
the peridium becoming lacerate or fragmented, peridial cells
highly variable, sometimes simulating the aeciospores, sometimes
oblong and attaining 54/x in length, the inner wall 2-3 p thick,
verrucose, the outer up to 18 thick and transversely striate with
usually continuous and discrete ridges; aeciospores mostly glo¬
boid, (13-) 15-20 x (13-) 16-21 (-23)^, wall hyaline or pale
yellowish, (2-) 3-3.5 p thick, verrucose with rounded warts or
these sometimes confluent in a labyrinthiform pattern.
On Callirhoe triangulata (Leavenw.) Gray, near Avoca, Iowa
Co., Wisconsin, U. S. A, June 22, 1951 (TYPE). Coll. H. C.
Greene.
1954] Greene — Wisconsin Parasitic Fungi, XX 177
Puccinia avocensis Cummins & Greene sp. nov.
Urediis ignotis, verisimiliter nullis. Teliis epiphyllis, pulvi-
natis, usque ad 1 mm. latis et 2 cm. longis, obscure cinnamomeo-
brunneis ; teliosporae late ellipsoideae vel ovalibus, utrinque
moderate rotundatae, medio non constrictae, (19-) 25-28 (-82)
x (32-) 37-44 (-50) /z; membrana uniformiter pallide castaneo-
vel aureo-brunnea, (2-) 3-4 (-5) /* cr., ad apicem non vel vix
incrassata; pedicello hyalino, plus minusve 100/* longo sed valde
fragili et deciduo.
Uredia and urediospores not found, probably not formed.
Telia epiphyllous (i.e., adaxial), subepidermal but early erump-
ent, intercostal, loosely pulvinate, linear, attaining 1 mm. in
width and 2 cm. in length, dark cinnamon-brown; teliospores
broadly ellipsoid or oval, not constricted at the septum, usually
moderately rounded apically and basally, (19-) 25-28 (-32) x
(32-) 37-44 (-50) /z; wall uniformly pale chestnut- or golden-
brown, smooth, uniformly (2-) 3-4 (-5)/* thick or only slightly
thicker at and near the apex, the pore apical in each cell ; pedicel
hyaline, slender, thin-walled and collapsing laterally throughout,
exceeding 100/* in length, but fragile and always broken near the
spore at maturity. One-celled teliospores are common.
On Stipa spartea Trim, near Avoca, Iowa Co., Wisconsin,
U. S. A., July 30, 1951; August 16, 1951 (TYPE). Coll. H. C.
Greene.
If, as indicated by the close association in the field, the aecial
and telial stages are related, P. avocensis is an additional species
of the medlow-Stipa compex. The aecia, except for somewhat
smaller spores, are like those of P. interveniens Bethel, as is also
the life cycle, but the teliospores are entirely distinct because of
the essentially uniform thickness of the spore wall and the thin-
walled and very fragile pedicels. The teliospores are more like
those of P. burnettii Griff, but differ particularly because of the
nature of the pedicel. P. burnettii produces aecia on Eurotia
lanata (Pursh) Moq. and has aeciospores with much thinner
walls. The two species cannot be considered as synonymous.
Ustilago heufleri Fckl. on Erythronium albidum. Green Co.,
near Albany, May 13, 1953. The only other reported collection on
E. albidum is from Missouri. The others are on E. americanum
from the eastern U. S. and Canada.
Entyloma linariae Schroet. on Linaria vulgaris. Columbia
Co., near Poynette, September 21, 1952. Coll. E. P. VanArsdel.
Phyllosticta dircae Ell. & Dearn. on Dirca palustris. Colum¬
bia Co., Pine Hollow near Poynette, July 31, 1953. The spores
are described as "narrow-ellipsoid, 2-7/*”. In the Wisconsin
178 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
specimen they are 2-3 x 7/z. In other respects the material in
hand corresponds quite closely to the description.
Phyllosticta succinosa sp. nov.
Maculis griseo-brunneis, immarginatis, orbicularibus, 3-6 mm.
diam.; pycnidiis sparsis, erumpentibus, amphigenis, plerumque
epiphyllis, succineis, muris tenuibus, subglobosis, ostiolatis, 75-
160/z diam., plerumque 100//. ca. ; conidiis hyalinis, subcylindra-
ceis, 4-7 x 2.5-3//.
Spots grayish-brown, immarginate, orbicular, 3-6 mm. diam. ;
pycnidia scattered, erumpent, amphigenous, but mostly epiphyl-
lous, amber-colored, thin-walled, subglobose, ostiolate, 75-160/x
diam., mostly about 100//; conidia hyaline, subcylindric, 4-7 x
2.5-3//.
On living leaves of Ribes americanum. Madison, Dane County,
Wisconsin, U. S. A., June 25, 1952.
Some of the spots show a faint zonation, with the pycnidia
mostly ranged on the zone lines, and occasional spots have a
margin somewhat darker than the center. In my Notes XIII
(Amer. Midi. Nat. 41: 742. 1949) reference was made to what
seems to be a rather poorly developed specimen of P. succinosa
which was at that time doubtfully and tentatively filed under
Phyllosticta grossulariae Sacc. None of the Phyllostictae that I
have been able to find described on Ribes have characters similar
to those of P. succinosa .
Phyllosticta corydalis (Ell. & Davis) comb. nov.
Septoria corydalis Ell. & Davis. Jour. Mycol. 8: 13. 1902.
As Davis stated in his original note (Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci.
14: 100. 1903) “Hardly a good Septoria”. As described, and as
shown by re-examination of the type specimen, the conidia are
approx. 3-5 x 1-2//. Very few are as narrow as 1//, however. Coll,
in Vilas Co., Wis., July 7, 1901, on Corydalis sempervirens
( glauca).
Phyllosticta entylomicola sp. nov.
Maculis albis vel sordidis, marginibus angustis, brunneis,
elevatis, orbicularibus vel angulosis, 1-3 mm. diam. ; pycnidiis
epiphyllis, sparsis vel gregariis, nigris, subglobosis, rostellatis,
pseudoparenchymaticis, 90-165// diam. ; conidiophoris tenuibus,
hyalinis, brevibus, prope obsoletis ; conidiis angusto-cylindraceis,
hyalinis, 3.5-6 x 1.5//.
Spots white or sordid, with narrow, brown, elevated margin,
orbicular or angled, 1-3 mm. diam. ; pycnidia epiphyllous, scat¬
tered or gregarious, black, subglobose, somewhat beaked, pseudo-
1954]
Greene — Wisconsin Parasitic Fungi, XX
179
parenchymatous, 90 . 165//, diam. ; conidiophores slender, hyaline,
short, almost obsolete; conidia narrow-cylindric, hyaline, 3.5-6
x 1.5 /x.
On living leaves of Ratibida (Lepachys) pinnata on lesions
which also bear Entyloma compositarum Farl. University of
Wisconsin Arboretum, Madison, Dane County, Wisconsin, U. S.
A., August 27, 1945. Subsequent collections were made at the
same station in 1946, 1951, and 1952. A small specimen was also
taken near Tiffany, Rock Co., July 17, 1947.
This was originally reported in my Notes XI (Airier. Midi.
Nat. 41: 715. 1949) at which time the consistent coincidence of
position between smut and Phyllosticta was overlooked. The
actual relationship of the Phyllosticta to host plant and smut
remains obscure. It seems unlikely that the two fungi have any
very definite connection with one another. The large black
pycnidia are very conspicuous and striking on the white spots,
on the smallest of which there is often but a single pycnidium
and on the largest not more than a half dozen.
Septoria gladioli Pass, on Gladiolus sp. (cult.). Dane Co.,
Cambridge, Summer 1914. Coll. A. C. Burrill. Excellent material,
corresponding closely with presumably authentic European
specimens. Davis failed to record this.
Septoria consocia Peck on Polygala senega. Jefferson Co.,
near Waterloo, June 15, 1953. Peck (Bot. Gaz 5: 34. 1880) states
“The perithecia tend to grow in groups or clusters. They are
associated with a species of Aecidium .” The current collection is
likewise associated with Aecidium — Puccinia andropogonis
Schw. I — and the spores seem intermediate in length between
Septoria polygalae Peck, reported by Davis on P. senega from
Wisconsin, and S. consocia. It is perhaps doubtful that the two
species are really distinct. The crowding and smaller spores of
the latter may possibly be due to poor developmental conditions
resulting from the presence of the aecia on the same lesions.
Vermicularia (Colletotrichum) compacta C. & E. on
petioles of living leaves of Parthenocissus vitacea. Racine Co.,
Burlington, August 11, 1952. Coll. A. 0. Paulus. This corre¬
sponds very closely with North American Fungi No. 342, issued
as this species on stems of Vitis.
Cylindrosporium fraxini (E. & K.) Ell. & Ev. on Fraxinus
Pennsylvania var. lanceolata. Dane Co., Madison, September 27,
1952. A strikingly coarse form. Many of the strongly curved
spores are well over 100//, in length, with granular contents and
obtuse ends. Although I have not seen an authentic specimen of
Cylindrosporium fraxini, I am convinced from a comparison of
180 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
the description of Ramularia fraxinea J. Davis with that of
C. fraxini that the Davis species is a synonym, and certainly not
a species of Ramularia. Davis placed 18 specimens, all from sta¬
tions in the Wisconsin River Valley, in the Wisconsin Herbarium
as Ramularia fraxinea.
Botrytis tulipae (Lib.) Hopkins ( B . parasitica Cav.) on
Tulipa “ gesneriana” and on T. “ suaveolens” . Dane Co., Madison,
May 18, 1953. Appearing parasitic on the leaves.
Macrosporium uredinis Ell. & Barth, on Puccinia graminis
on Arena sativa. Dane Co., Madison, July 19, 1953. Only dubi¬
ously parasitic in my estimation, but evidently the same thing
Ellis and Bartholomew had and considered to be a parasite.
According to recent viewpoint this should probably be referred
to Alternaria.
Alternaria inconspicuum sp. nov.
Maculis nullis; conidiophoris hypophyllis, inconspicuis, spar-
sis, unis vel paribus, interdum 3 conjunctim, simplicibus vel
subgeniculatis cum cicatricibus acervatim prope apicibus, saepe
tortuosis nonnihil, subnodulosis interdum, olivaceo-brunneis,
apicibus pallidioribus, formis variis, 35-65 x 4-5/x, 2-4-, ple-
rumque 3-septatis; conidiis 4-cellis, 3-septatis plerumque, inter¬
dum muriformibus restricte, fumoso-olivaceis, formis variis
nonnihil, plerumque cylindraceis vel brevo-cylindraceis, vel
interdum ovoideis vel obovoideis, cellis basibus obconicis, cica¬
tricibus truncatis, 14-22 x 6-8/x, 6-6. 5/x plerumque, non catenu-
latis.
Spots none, conidiophores hypophyllous, inconspicuous, scat¬
tered, single, or in pairs, occasionally 3 clustered together, simple
or subgeniculate with a cluster of spore scars near the tip, often
somewhat tortuous, occasionally subnodulose, olivaceous-brown,
and paler at tip which is variable in shape, 35-65 x 4-5/x, 2-4-
mostly 3-septate; conidia mostly 4-celled, 3-septate, occasionally
sparingly muriform, sooty-olivaceous, rather variable in shape,
usually cylindric or short-cylindric, sometimes ovoid or obovoid,
the basal cell obconic with truncate spore scar, 14-22 x 6-8/x,
mostly 6-6.5 /x, non-catenulate.
On living leaves of Fraxinus pennsylvanica var. lanceolata.
Madison, Dane County, Wisconsin, U. S. A., September 11, 1952.
A collection was also made at Arena, Iowa Co., Wis., Sept. 17,
1952.
Placed in Alternaria in line with Wiltshire’s emended and
expanded conception of the genus (Trans. Brit. Mycol. Soc. 18:
156. 1933). 1 If the septation-type of the great majority of the
1954]
Greene — Wisconsin Parasitic Fungi, XX
181
spores determined placement this would be assigned to Brachy-
sporium Sacc., as only a very small percentage of the spores are
muriform. Even in the spores which lack vertical septations
there is considerable diversity in the size and shape of the indi¬
vidual cells, resulting from differences in position of the septa
from spore to spore. Many of the infected leaves show a dull
yellowish to purplish discoloration, but it is not spotting in the
usual sense, and does not seem sufficiently well-defined to be
included in the formal description. On the Arena specimen the
leaves of the host, dubiously determined as F. pennsylvanica var.
lanceolata, are very hairy on the under surface, and the fungus
has ascended many of the hairs and sporulated on them.
1 E. G. Simmons, in a personal communication, states that he considers the lack
of beaks on the spores to be sufficient reason for not regarding- this as a species of
Alternaria, but, after careful consideration, it seems to me that the sum of the
other features favors such a disposition nonetheless.
DETERMINATION OF THE EFFECT OF APPLIED
BIOCIDES ON SOIL FERTILITY BY CHEMICAL
AND BIOLOGICAL METHODS1
G. K. Voigt
Department of Soils, University of Wisconsin
Modern agriculture involves the use of a number of toxic
chemicals for the eradication of fungous diseases, insects, and
noxious weeds. This is particularly true of the more specialized
operations such as the production of nursery stock for reforesta¬
tion purposes. In addition to fairly large amounts of commercial
fertilizers, the soils of forest nurseries receive applications of
various biocides employed for the control of detrimental organ¬
isms. It has been observed that some of these compounds sup¬
press the metabolic activity of young root tips of coniferous
seedlings (Voigt, 1952) . However, the effect of applications of
biocides on the availability of essential nutrients and associated
fertility factors is obscure and was investigated using chemical
and biological methods of soil analysis.
Methods and Materials
The biocides studied included calomel, chlordane, and Stoddard
oil applied individually or in combination with fertilizer salts
and hardwood-hemlock leaf mold to a coarse outwash sand of the
Plainfield series. The following rates of application per acre were
used : calomel— 9 and 27 lbs., chlordane — 10 and 100 lbs., Stod¬
dard oil— 50 and 150 gal., ammonium nitrate — 100 and 400 lbs.,
20 per cent superphosphate- — 100 and 400 lbs., potassium chlo¬
ride — 150 and 600 lbs., and leaf mold — 20 and 80 cu. yds. All
materials were thoroughly mixed with the soil with the exception
of Stoddard oil, which was sprayed on the soil surface. The
treated and untreated soil was stored in % gallon jars in the
greenhouse for four weeks. At the end of this period, samples
were taken for analysis.
Chemical determinations included soil reaction, and the con¬
tent of available nitrogen, phosphorus, and potassium (Truog,
et at., 1952 ; Truog, 1930; At toe and Truog, 1945) . Biological
determinations comprised the Aspergillus niger method (Meh-
1 Carried out in cooperation with the Departments of Entomology and Plant
Pathology, Wisconsin Agricultural Experiment Station, Madison, Wisconsin, and
the Wisconsin State Conservation Department. Publication approved by the
Director of the Wisconsin Agricultural Experiment Station.
183
184 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
lich, et al., 1933) and a modification of the Neubauer culture test
(Kitchen, 1948). For the Neubauer procedure, a 2000 g. sample
of soil in a *4 gallon jar was brought to held capacity with dis¬
tilled water. Large soil samples were used because of the small
rates of application of calomel and chlordane. Each treatment
was prepared in duplicate. One hundred selected rye seeds were
distributed evenly over the soil surface in each jar. The seeds
were pressed into the soil and covered with a *4 inch layer of
quartz sand. After emergence, the seedlings were allowed to grow
for 20 days. At the end of this time the tops of the plants were
harvested and allowed to air dry before their weights were re¬
corded. The tops were then ground in a Wiley mill and the con¬
tents of nitrogen, phosphorus, and potassium determined using
standard procedures. (A.O.A C., 1950; Barton, 1948; Attoe,
1947).
TABLE 1
The Effect of Various Soil Treatments on Soil Reaction and the
Content of Available Nutrients
1954]
Effect of Biocides on Soil Fertility
185
Results and Discussion
The effects of different biocides applied individually and in
combination with fertilizer salts and leaf mold on soil reaction
and the content of available nutrients are given in Table 1.
Determination of soil reaction indicated a slight increase in acid¬
ity when fertilizer salts were applied in larger amounts. Signifi¬
cant changes in the contents of available nutrients were observed
only where these nutrients were added to the soil either as fer¬
tilizer salts, or as leaf mold. The addition of biocides decreased
TABLE 2
The Effect of Various Soil Treatments on the Growth of Aspergillus
niger and Seedlings of Rye Plants and the Nutrient
Content of the Tops of Rye Seedlings
186 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
Figure 1. The effect of different soil treatments on the growth of rye seedlings: (A) control; (B) NH4N03 — 400
lbs.; CaH4(P04)2 — 400 lbs., KC1 — 600 lbs. per acre; (C) Calomel — 27 lbs., chlordane — 100 lbs., Stoddard oil — 150
gal., NHiNOa — 400 lbs., CaH4(P04)2 — 400 lbs., KC1 — 600 lbs. per acre; (D) Calomel — 27 lbs., chlordani — 100 lbs.,
Stoddard oil — 150 gal., NH4N03 — 400 lbs., CaH4(P04)2 — 400 lbs., KC1 — 600 lbs., leaf mold — 80 cu. yds, per acre.
1954]
Effect of Biocides on Soil Fertility
187
the amount of available nitrogen normally released by leaf mold
and fertilizer salts. This may be due to the toxic effect of calomel
and chlordane on microorganism active in the decomposition of
the organic matter (Cullinan, 1949).
The production of dry matter by Aspergillus niger mycelia and
rye seedlings and the nutrient content of rye seedlings is re¬
ported in Table 2. These data indicate that the growth of both
Aspergillus niger and rye seedlings is suppressed by calomel and
chlordane. Applications of calomel at the rate of 27 lbs. per acre
caused a reduction of 17 per cent in the growth of Aspergillus
niger and 10 per cent in the growth of rye seedlings. Additions
of 100 lbs. of chlordane per acre reduced the growth of Asper¬
gillus niger 8 per cent and the growth of rye 16 per cent. This is
in agreement with the findings of Cullinan (1947), who stated
that the growth of plants may be suppressed by chlordane appli¬
cations. Stoddard oil applied at the rate of 150 gal. per acre re-
5
8
Figure 2. The effect of different biocides applied individually and in com¬
bination with fertilizer salts and leaf mold on the growth of rye seedlings
(lined) and mycelia of Aspergillus niger (solid).
188 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48
duced the growth of Aspergillus niger 8 per cent but had no ill
effects on the growth of rye seedlings.
Combined application of all three biocides amplified the soil
toxicity and produced an especially strong inhibitory effect on
the growth of both rye seedlings and the fungus mycelia (Figures
1 and 2) . The inhibitory effect of the chemicals was partially
reduced by the application of leaf mold at the rate of 80 cu. yds.
per acre. It has been reported that the toxicity of DDT, a chemi¬
cal closely related to chlordane, is reduced as the content of
organic matter is increased (Brown, 1951). Leaf mold applied
at the lower rate had no significant effect on toxicity.
The contents of nitrogen, phosphorus, and potassium in the
tops of the rye seedlings indicate a general tendency to reflect the
soil fertility levels established by chemical analysis. Since the
uptake of nutrients has not been significantly disrupted, it can
be assumed that the reduced growth of the seedlings and the
mycelia was caused by the direct toxic effects of the biocides
rather than by the decreased availability of essential nutrients.
The results of the study indicate that in the appraisal of the
fertility of a soil treated with eradicating agents, chemical deter¬
mination of available nutrients should be supplemented by bio¬
logical methods of soil analysis to evaluate the detrimental effects
of the toxic compounds.
Literature Cited
1. Association of Official Agricultural Chemists. 1950. Official and
tentative methods of analysis. Ed. 7. Washington, D. C.
2. Attoe, 0. J. 1947. Rapid photometric determination of potassium and
sodium in plant tissue. Soil Sci. Soc. Amer. Proc. 12:131-134.
3. Attoe, 0. J. and E. Truog. 1945. Rapid photometric determination of
exchangeable potassium and sodium. Soil Sci. Soc. Amer. Proc. 11:
221-226.
4. Barton, C. J. 1948. Photometric analysis of phosphate rock. Anal.
Chem. 20:1068-1073.
5. Brown, A. W. A. 1951. Insect control by chemicals. John Wiley and
Sons, Inc., New York.
6. Cullinan, F. P. 1947. Effect of DDT on plants. Agr. Chem. 2(5) : 18-20.
7. Cullinan, F. P. 1949. Phytotoxicity of chlorinated hydrocarbon insecti¬
cides. J. Econ. Ent. 42:387-391.
8. Kitchen, H. B. (Editor) 1948. Diagnostic techniques for soils and
crops. American Potash Inst., Washington, D. C.
9. Mehlich, A., Truog, E., and Fred, E. B. 1933. The Aspergillus niger
method of measuring available potassium in soil. Soil Sci. 35:259-279.
10. Truog, E. 1930. Determination of the readily available phosphorus of
soils. Jour. Amer. Soc. Agron. 22:874-882.
11. Truog, E., Hull, H. H., and Shihata, M. M. 1953. Test for available
soil nitrogen. Mimeo. Soils Dept., University of Wisconsin.
12. Voigt, G. K. 1953. The effects of fungicides, insecticides, herbicides and
fertilizer salts on the respiration of root tips of tree seedlings. Soil
Sci. Soc. Amer. Proc. 17 : 150-152.
T. S. ELIOT AND THE DOCTRINE OF
DRAMATIC CONVENTIONS
Gian N. G. Orsini
The University of Wisconsin
Professor Harry Levin has rendered a service to literary
criticism by showing the significance and tracing the history of
the term “convention” when applied to literature.1 He has filled
out the unusually meager outline given in the NED and built up
a. full picture of the origins and ramifications of the term
through more than one century and more than one literature.
He points out that the word acquired its connection with literary
criticism in eighteenth-century France (p. 64), and passed
thence into nineteenth-century England and twentieth-century
America. One could trace it still further back, and show the
origins of the idea in the famous debate between the conflicting
claims of Nature and Convention (</>uW and voyo^) in ancient
Greek philosophy, which was summed up so neatly much later
by Dr. Johnson : “to distinguish nature from custom, or that
which is established because it is right, from that which is right
only because it is established” {Rambler, No. 156). The latter is
the conventional, and it became the object of criticism from the
time of Diderot (1770). As Professor Levin says, “French criti¬
cism made convention a weapon for offensive and defensive use
in contemporary polemics. Anglo-American scholarship made it
an instrument for the reinterpretation of great works composed
in obsolete forms” (p. 71). And he refers to T. S. Eliot's reply
to William Archer, defending Elizabethan drama on the grounds
that its supposed faults are really obsolete conventions. Even
before that, of course, Professor Stoll had made convention the
main weapon of his attack on Shakespearean criticism, which
Professor Levin notes approvingly: “Professor Stoll's method
has proved an effective counterweight to the tenuous psycho¬
logizing of the romantics” (p. 71) .
In more recent days, T. S. Eliot’s formula has been influential
in stimulating important studies of Elizabethan drama. M. C.
1 H. Levin, “Notes on Convention,” in Perspectives of Criticism (Harvard Uni¬
versity Press, 1950), pp. 55-84. The passage of Croce’s Estetica (9th ed., 1950, pp.
35-36) rather summarily referred to on p. 80 does not deal with convention in
literature but in its epistemological sense, outlining a theory which is fully pro¬
pounded in his Logica (2nd ed., 1909, pp. 11-12 and 15-27). Levin opposes “Poin¬
care’s empiricism” to Croce, unaware that Croce has made this “empiricism” a
corner-stone of his own Logic (op. cit., pp. 388 and 390). Croce discusses literary
conventions elsewhere, e.g., in Poesia, 2nd ed., 1937, pp. 86-99.
189
190 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
Bradbrook and Th. Spencer (to name no others) have written
books directly based on Eliot’s pronouncements and have used
his concept of convention as a major critical instrument. So that
one could think that by this time the quality of the instrument
must have been put to the test pretty completely and its efficacy
thoroughly proven.
But apparently this is not so. The critical use of “convention”
has not met with universal approval. For instance, Miss Brad-
brook’s book on Themes and Conventions of Elizabethan Tragedy
(1935), instead of proving illuminating, has been found “con¬
fused and confusing, naively dogmatic and at times patently
absurd.”2 Another critic has objected that “it would not be true
to say that all we need to know is that Elizabethan drama is
conventional.”3 This is the opinion of Mr. L. C. Knights, one of
the foremost foes of traditional Bradleyan Shakespeare criti¬
cism. Yet Mr. Knights found that in Miss Bradbrook’s book “one
is continually jolted by the contradictions, the different levels of
insight displayed,” by its “equivocal attitude,” “mixed quality”
and “shifting meanings” of the critical terms used.
Likewise, Mr. Spencer’s use of the term “convention” has been
found “misleading”4 and his concentration on conventional usage
has been found sometimes conducive to critical obtuseness.5
Alwin Thaler, reviewing still another book on Elizabethan con¬
ventions — this one on the comic conventions — observed : “even if
the term were capable of satisfactory determination in all cases,
there would still remain the fact that the exponents of the
‘skeptic’ attitude tend constantly to let their sweeping generalisa¬
tion turn from details to larger issues of character and motive,
and to reduce all things, perforce, to preconceived conventional
levels.”6
Professor Thaler’s reference to the “skeptic attitude” brings
us back to the discussions raised by Professor Stoll. Now Stoll’s
use of the term “convention” has been objected to by some critics
who cannot fairly be called romanticists, such as Mr. F. R.
Lea vis, who has observed to Stoll that “when Shakespeare uses
the ‘same’ convention as Beaumont and Fletcher, Dryden and
Voltaire, his use is apt to be such that only by a feat of abstrac¬
tion can the convention be said to be the same.”7 This goes to
2 W. H. Durham in Modern Language Notes , 53 (1938), 211-12.
3 L. C. Knights in Scrutiny, 4 (1935), 90-95.
iJ. H. Walter in Modern Language Review, 32 (1937), 294—95.
5 K. Tillotson in Review of English Studies, 14 (1938), 346—49.
6 A. Thaler, reviewing P. V. Kreider, Elizabethan Comic < Character Conventions
(1935), in Journal of English and Germanic Philology, 36 (1937), 127.
7 P. R. Leavis, “Diabolic Intellect and the Noble Hero,” in Scrutiny, 6 (1937),
279.
1954]
Orsini — T. S. Eliot
191
confirm the previous charges of “sweeping generalisation” and
critical obtuseness as a result of the use of the term.
Something seems to be very wrong somewhere. Perhaps the
term “convention” has not been used in the right way by these
scholars. This makes it all the more imperative to give a good
look at the term, and try and get at its exact meaning and correct
use. But any attempt to define it meets with the difficulty that
there are several kinds of things which can be called conventions.
There are, first of all, social conventions, then literary conven¬
tions, dramatic conventions and stage conventions. We will find
that all these occur, often indiscriminately, in the discussion of
Elizabethan drama by T. S. Eliot and his school, so that it will
be necessary to distinguish with some care between them. We
will begin with stage conventions, since they seem to have a more
limited application and have been lucidly defined by Professor
A. R. Thompson:8
In the broad sense a convention, according to Webster, is a
rule or usage based on general agreement. Since the stage
cannot represent everything in a lifelike manner, many sub¬
stitutes for a direct mimicry of life have from time to time
come into use. When well established, they are called con¬
ventions.
As instances of traditional stage conventions we may refer to
the soliloquy and the aside, as well as the absence of the fourth
wall on the stage. Some of them have been done away with in
modern realistic productions. But even these have their own
conventions :
... it is conventional in them for the actors to face the audi¬
ence most of the time, to “balance the stage” by not crowd¬
ing all to one side, to speak exit lines on a pause by the door,
and to do many other things which are not natural (p. 109) .
To ask the reason for the existence of these stage conventions
is to probe deeply into the nature of the theatre. Some critics
will even tell us that “conventions . . . form a code, and are as a
treaty made with the audience. No article of it is to be abrogated
unless we can be persuaded to consent.”9 But this seems to be
taking them a bit too seriously; they are made to sound like
Rousseau’s mythical social contract, that never was on sea or
land. Professor Thompson says more plausibly that “many con¬
ventions are the result of convenience or necessity” (p. 109), and
the next step is to inquire what is the convenience, or the neces-
8 A. R. Thompson, The Anatomy of Drama (California University Press, 1946,
2nd ed. ), p. 108.
9 H. Granville— Barker, Prefaces to Shakespeare (1927), I, xxx.
192 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
sity, that conventions are supposed to meet. It appears to me that
the necessity generally arises out of some material difficulty on
the stage which has to be overcome if the acting is to be seen or
heard by the audience. That is the obvious reason why actors
usually face the spectators: since space as we know it is three-
dimensional, they cannot very well be seen or heard otherwise.
And that of course is also the reason for the absence of the
fourth wall, the place of which is taken by the proscenium. Since
the laws of space prevent us from seeing inside a cube, we have
to open one of its sides to make the interior visible. A material
difficulty is met by a material change in the stage which may
appear unnatural but makes production possible.
Soliloquies, spoken aloud on the stage, are also considered un¬
natural : people do not usually speak when they are alone, giving
voice to their most intimate thoughts; though they may do so
under the influence of strong emotion, as Lord Karnes pointed
out in his Elements of Criticism 7 (ch. 15) defending the solilo¬
quy. More unnatural, perhaps, is the stage aside, which is loud
enough to be heard by the whole audience, but not by the other
people on the stage. The material difficulty which they both meet
is obvious: no audience is a mind-reader, so it could not other¬
wise be acquainted with the thoughts of the characters, “no
better way being yet invented for the communication of thought”
than speech, as Congreve remarked in this context in the dedi¬
cation of The Double Dealer. Again, “exit lines are spoken on a
pause by the door” to make them clearly and completely audible :
another physical difficulty is met by a customary deviation from
normal behavior.
We seem therefore to have reached this conclusion: a stage
convention is a stage usage which has been established in order
to overcome some material difficulty or some physical obstacle
on the stage, which would otherwise make acting impossible. As
such, it is purely theatrical: it concerns problems arising only
from the material conditions of the stage, and not problems of
literary composition. And since there are many different kinds
of stages and theatres, they may give rise to different sets of
stage conventions. All conventions are therefore relative: the
platform stage requires different conventions from the apron
stage. Finally, the violations of verisimilitude are apt to dis¬
appear in actual production, absorbed as they are in the interest
aroused by the action.
In any case, as Professor Thompson has pointed out, “a device
is not strictly a convention until it is generally accepted by audi¬
ences” (p. 112). In other words, a device is not to be accepted
because it is a convention, but it becomes a convention when it is
1954]
Orsini — T. S. Eliot
193
accepted. There is therefore no compulsion in it : and it will cease
to exist when stage conditions change or when audiences no
longer accept it.
It should also be stressed that stage conventions refer pri¬
marily to production and not to the play considered as a literary
composition. We have seen that the distinguishing trait of the
stage convention is its initial artificiality. Take the monologue or
aside, for instance : they may be unnatural on the stage, but they
do not seem so on reading a play. When the play of Hamlet is
read as a piece of literature, we do not find any difficulty in
accepting Hamlet’s soliloquies. He is Hamlet, an imaginary char¬
acter in an imaginary situation, and his thoughts are part of the
situation. It does not seem unnatural that he should reflect on
his problems, or that we should know his reflections, any more
than it is unnatural for us to enter into the innermost thoughts
and feelings of a character in a novel. When we read a play as
we read a novel, even an aside does not bother us : it is another
instance of entering into a character’s mind. It is also obvious
that all difficulties relating to space, such as the fourth wall, and
to the visibility and audibility of real actors on a physical stage
do not arise on reading a play. And stage conventions, as we have
seen, are called into existence in order to meet material difficul¬
ties. It would seem therefore that stage conventions do not have
a necessary relevance to the play when considered as a piece of
literature.
But there are also certain things called conventions in the
sphere of literature itself. Such conventions are more difficult to
define. We may tentatively describe them as a feature, or a detail,
in a poem or other piece of literature which is repeated or taken
over from some previous work. When certain features are taken
over by a large number of writers working through a certain
period or in a certain trend, these features become a kind of
accepted usage, that is, a convention in literature. For instance,
around the sixteenth century a large number of writers com¬
posed love poems adopting thoughts, emotions, expressions, and
even metrical forms from the poems of Francis Petrarch. This
fact is called in English the Petrarchan convention. Petrarch
expressed frustration and melancholy at the lack of response to
his love in the fair woman whom he called Laura : so, many other
writers expressed similar emotions with similar phrases in
similar sonnets for women who were likewise fair and cold. In
his emotion, Petrarch compared the beauty of Laura to a variety
of things: her hair was like gold, her neck was like milk, her
cheeks were like roses white and red, her eyes were dazzling like
the rays of the sun; and so, many other poets said the same
194 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
things of their mistresses. Since it is not very likely that so many
different poets should all go through the same experience with
the same kind of woman and think the same things about her,
the whole thing became artificial and conventional in the bad
sense, and as such a legitimate object of ridicule and parody.
But it seems essential to distinguish this later stage of artistic
degradation from the original experience which is at the source
of the whole movement. Petrarch’s passion was, for him, a burn¬
ing experience : it overshadowed his whole life and deeply
troubled his conscience, causing a spiritual conflict which he
anxiously debated in his Latin works. The thoughts and emotions
expressed in his Italian verse arose out of this central fire and
made history: his admirers have called him, perhaps extrava¬
gantly, the first modern man. He certainly produced the best love
poetry that had been composed in Europe for a long while, and
enjoyment of it is an experience that was shared by many gen¬
erations, and can be shared again today by those who take the
trouble to read. Now out of this perfectly genuine love for what
is a genuinely perfect work may arise the impulse to imitate it.
This imitation was practised by a number of good poets, whose
quality is manifest in the fact that even while using some of
Petrarch’s expressions they manage to convey a personality of
their own, so that the Petrarchan label is hardly adequate to
describe them. Such is the case, for instance, with the poets of
the French Pleiade and with the greater Elizabethan sonnetteers,
such as Shakespeare himself.
But thoughts and expressions, similes and metaphors may be
detached from their context and repeated with little or no varia¬
tion by some scribbler who is simply following a fashion without
any feeling or talent of his own. The result will be a purely
mechanical composition, with no touch of poetry in it, such as is
found in hundreds of mediocre Petrarchan sonnets. Critics of
Petrarch are well aware that the first writer to do this was
Petrarch himself. He had periods of sterility when all he could
do was to imitate himself in his brighter moments. As in the case
of Wordsworth, critics have learnt how to distinguish his good
verse from his bad,10 and a similar distinction must surely be
made between poets who were imaginatively stimulated by
Petrarch and those who merely imitated his manner. The vital
importance of this distinction lies in the fact that it involves the
discrimination between good writing and bad writing. So if we
speak of a tradition as a convention, we must be careful to
10 See the classic analysis by F. De Sanctis, Saggio critico sul Petrarca, 4. a ed.
a cura di B. Croce, 1918, ch. VI.
1954]
Orsini — T. S. Eliot
195
specify whether it is a living tradition or a purely mechanical
imitation.
Let me make this clearer by referring back to our original
definition of a literary convention: a feature repeated, or taken
over, from a previous work. This feature may be a phrase, a
metaphor, a thought, an emotion, or a plot, or a character. Now,
when the feature is taken over by a good poet, he makes it an
integral part of a new unit : can we then say that it is the same
thing? In Mr. Leavis’ words — “only by a feat of abstraction,'’
which leaves out what is essential in poetry. For instance, Verdi
took over Falstaff from Shakespeare and made an opera out of
him: is Verdi’s Falstaff the same as Shakespeare’s? Indeed, is
the Falstaff of the Merry Wives of Windsor the same as the Fal¬
staff of Henry IV? Most people would say he bears little resem¬
blance. At the beginning of his Elegy, Gray takes over a famous
simile of Dante’s: “the curfew tolls the knell of parting day.”
It was also taken over by Byron in Don Juan (III, 108) . Is it the
same thing in the Purgatorio as it is in the Elegy or in Don
Juan? Or does it convey different things in each of these very
different poems? If therefore a literary convention consists in
taking over or repeating something, we must know more about
the process involved before we can say anything definite about
it: is it merely a repetition, or is it absorbed in a new unity?
This applies also to the so-called dramatic conventions, when
this name is given to features which are to be found in many
dramatic compositions, such as plots, episodes, incidents, char¬
acters and situations. A very long list could be made of them,
from the dawn of Western drama in Athens down to the con¬
temporary theatre. The stock dramatic situations have been cata¬
logued in a celebrated book by a French writer, G. Polti (1895),
who set their number at thirty-six. A more recent critic,
E. Souriau (1950), has brought up the number to 200,000. Tra¬
ditional characters are so many that they have never been
counted: the hero, the heroine, the villain, the confidant, the
clever servant, the loyal retainer, the nurse, the braggart, the
narasite, the miser, the pedant, the clown, and so on and so forth.
And plot devices abound, such as the god from the machine, the
recognition of long-lost relations, disguise and mistaken identity,
the apparition of ghosts and other supernatural portents in
tragedy, etc.
Now, when a play is produced, it may happen that a tradi¬
tional feature in dramatic composition may correspond to a tra¬
ditional device in theatrical production, but the two belong to
different arts and although parallel are not the same. In partic¬
ular, a traditional feature in the text may meet with some mate-
196 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
rial difficulty on the stage which is obviated by means of some
stage convention : but even here there is a parallel and not iden¬
tity. This is the case of the soliloquy, which belongs to a hoary
literary tradition and which on the stage gave rise, as we have
seen, to a stage convention, since thoughts can only be conveyed
by audible speech. But on the stage it is not a convention in the
same way as it may be in a text, for there, as we have seen, it
does not present any intrinsic improbability.
On the other hand, a feature like the ghost in tragedy may be
considered intrinsically improbable, or the author may make it
so through lack of skill. At this point some critics say: — The
ghost is a stage convention, therefore it has to be accepted any¬
way, and all criticism is out of place. — This seems a deplorable
confusion of thought. The ghost is a dramatic convention, in the
sense that it is a device taken over and repeated ; but it is defi¬
nitely not a stage convention, which is invented because produc¬
tion must overcome some material difficulty.
And even for dramatic conventions there is that vital distinc¬
tion between good and bad writing which must not be set aside
by any juggling with words. In the wide field of Renaissance
tragedy there are many ghosts: most of them, possibly, are just
props, but some are genuine imaginative creations, as Mr. Eliot
acknowledges the witches in Macbeth to be; and in any sound
criticism the latter are not to be confused with the former.
Unfortunately this basic confusion between stage and dra¬
matic conventions is very common.11 It lies at the root of that
criticism of the Elizabethans by Stoll, as well as by Eliot and
his disciples, which was found so unacceptable by the critics
that we quoted at the beginning. Stoll at one time believed that
inconsistencies and contradictions in a character of a play could
be smoothed out and vanish on the stage if the author simply
appealed to some dramatic convention. According to his analysis,
the character of Othello is inconsistent : Stoll cannot believe that
Othello could have been deceived by Iago’s slanders. Yet, even in
the eighteenth century, Lord Karnes considered it psychologically
true that a man cannot evaluate evidence clearly when his emo¬
tions are involved, and he went so far as to say that Othello’s
acceptance of Iago’s calumny shows “more knowledge of human
nature that in any of our philosophers” ( Elements of Criticism,
7th ed., ch. ii, pt. v) .
But Stoll can see in Othello only a “heap of contradictions,”
which are not perceived on the stage because Shakespeare has
resorted to what Stoll calls the convention of slander : all slander
11 Cfr. also B. Matthews, “The Conventions of the Drama,” in The Historical
Novel and Other Essays (1901), p. 266.
1954]
Orsini — T. S. Eliot
197
is immediately believed in a play. The illusion only lasts as long
as we are in the theatre; when we analyse the text, the incon¬
sistencies become glaringly evident to Stoll, and Othello becomes
a set of “contradictions . . . reconciled ... by a conventional
mechanism.”12 Stoll is confusing stage conventions, which make
production possible, with dramatic conventions, to which an
author resorts at his own risk and peril. There is no magic power
in them: indeed, to crown poorly constructed characters with a
tawdry plot device is to ruin a play. But such apparently Stoll
thinks is the case with Shakespeare’s great tragedies.13
The precedent of Stoll might have been a warning to Eliot;
but seemingly it was not. Eliot at the time was concerned with
finding an answer to William Archer’s strictures against the
Elizabethans.14 In his book on The Old Drama and the New
(1923) Archer argued that the old English drama of the six¬
teenth and seventeenth centuries was immensely inferior to the
modern realistic drama since Ibsen. The old drama abounded in
absurdities, crudities and inconsistencies. Eliot attempted a
defence of the old drama by arguing that its defects were merely
different conventions, but soon slipped into the charge that Eliz¬
abethan drama had the great shortcoming of not being written
under a single convention. By convention he seems to mean some¬
thing which can be positive and productive. He speaks of plays
being written by “an individual dramatist, or a number of
dramatists working at the same time” within a given convention :
“it may be some quite new selection or structure or distortion in
subject matter or technique, any form or rhythm imposed upon
the world of action” (p. 11). Passing by the rather surprising
idea that a poet may delegate to some one else the vital function
of form, we may find that Eliot here is indistinctly referring to
a theory of art which was fairly current, at the time he wrote,
in a number of textbooks.15 Eliot speaks of convention as “a
form to arrest, so to speak, the flow of spirit at any particular
point before it expands and ends its course in the desert of exact
likeness to the reality which is perceived by the most common-
12 E. E. Stoll, Art and Artifice in Shakespeare (Cambridge University Press,
1933), p. 111.
13 'Ofr. Deavis: “tricks or illusions passing off on us mutually incompatible accept¬
ances in regard to Othello’s behaviour or make-up would be cheating’’ (op. cit., pp.
281-82).
14 T. S. Eliot, “Four Elizabethan Dramatists : A Preface to an Unwritten Book”
(1924), in Elizabethan Essays (1934). I have previously discussed Eliot’s “conven¬
tions” and his connection with Archer and Bradbrook in “Eliot e gli elisabettiani”
in II Saggiatore (Milan, August 10, 1943), pp. 45-47, and Th. Spencer’s idea of
convention in “Caratteri estetici del dramma elisabettiano,” in Anglica, II (1948),
pp. 14-15.
15'Cfr. “The whole of art rests upon convention. As we have seen, what appears
actual reality is outside art,” etc. R. G. Moulton, The Modern Study of Literature
(University of Chicago Press, 1915), p. 266.
198 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48
place mind” (p. 10) . The idea seems to be that the natural tend¬
ency of the artist is to produce a copy or likeness of reality, but
since obviously art is not that, there must be something that
“arrests the flow” and by arresting it, makes it art. The nature
of this check or brake, or whatever it is, is purely arbitrary : any
“selection or distortion” of form or matter, as long as it is unlike
reality. This would make verse a kind of arrested prose and
poetry a kind of frustrated common sense, and the great char¬
acters of drama would be merely a repressed attempt at portray¬
ing commonplace reality.
This curious idea apparently arises out of an incapacity to
conceive of any other imaginative process than that of mere
realism: Eliot cannot even find a name for its opposite, which
he once calls “an abstraction from actual life” (p. 11). But who
abstracts what from life?16 On this point, Eliot leaves us in the
dark.17 But his reputation as a poet has invested his critical
writings with a special prestige, and his conception of convention
as a productive factor, however hazy and confused, did not fail
to impress itself upon younger writers. Under Eliot’s influence,
whole volumes have been written to collect and extol the conven¬
tions of Elizabethan drama. The first is Miss Bradbrook’s
Themes and Conventions of Elizabethan Tragedy (1935).
Following Eliot, she begins by justifying the inconsistencies
and absurdities that critics like Archer find in Elizabethan
tragedy by an appeal to contemporary convention.18 But she ends
by making the conventions themselves consist merely of contra¬
dictions and absurdities, of “strained coincidences,” “rigidly
defined types,” “rapid and trivial intrigue,” “events deliberately
exaggerated,” “action unnaturally rapid or farcical” and uncon¬
vincing disguises (pp. 38, 42, 50, 61-62, 69) .
And here is her definition of convention :
A convention may be defined as an agreement between
writers and readers, whereby the artist is allowed to limit
and simplify his material in order to secure greater concen¬
tration through a control of the distribution of emphasis
P. 4).
This is Eliot’s definition, with some complications thrown in to
no good purpose, for it sounds as if the artist is allowed to con-
16 A criticism of the realistic theory will be found in any good elementary book
on esthetics: e.g\, R. G. Collingwood, Outlines of a Philosophy of Art (Oxford
University Press, 1925), pp. 74—76, or E. E. Carritt, The Theory of Beauty (Lon¬
don, 1914), pp. 75-92.
17 See also “The Possibility of a Poetic Drama’’ in The Sacred Wood (London,
1920), and cfr. A. Oras, The > Critical Ideas of T. S. Eliot (University of Dorpat,
Acta, B, XXVIII, #3), pp. 39-42: “Literary Conventions.”
wCfr. also B. L. Joseph, Elizabethan Acting (Oxford University Press, 1951),
pp. 115-16.
1954]
Orsini — T. S. Eliot
199
centrate his material to secure concentration through concentra¬
tion. But Miss Bradbrook’s vagueness and inconsistencies have
been sufficiently denounced by the critics we have already quoted,
and it should be recognized that she has a number of interesting
things to say incidentally about Elizabethan drama. Her work is
an acknowledged contribution to the subject, but it is clear that
we do not receive from her enlightenment as to dramatic
conventions.19
Neither do we receive it from Theodore Spencer’s book on
Death and Elizabethan Tragedy, A Study of Convention and
Opinion in the Elizabethan Drama (1936), though it is a much
more lucid and sensitive study. The author declares: “The sub¬
ject of this book was suggested to me by a sentence in T. S.
Eliot’s essay, The possibility of a poetic drama: ‘There is a book
to be written on the commonplaces of any great dramatic period,
the handling of Fate and Death, the recurrence of mood, tone,
situation’ ” (p. xi). This is what Spencer means by convention:
the common theme of death and the ideas, emotions, similes and
phrases that cluster around it; and his book is a careful collec¬
tion of all these things in Elizabethan tragedy.20 Following Eliot,
Spencer claims that they have a positive artistic function, though
in practice he has to admit that the positive function belongs to
the imagination of the individual poet rather than to the common
material (pp. 69, 89, 107 etc.). For instance, he attempts to build
a theory according to which “granted the poet’s native gifts, the
more rooted in convention he is, the more imaginative his writ¬
ing will be” (p. 106), but he has to grant the poet’s individual
gift of imagination first. The argument that follows is that con¬
ventions first of all establish “a common basis . . . between the
poet and his audience” (p. 105), and then somehow “are filled
with the weight of a convincing emotion” by the poet (p. 107).
But later he admits that the conventional material, when
absorbed in a new synthesis, is no longer the same : “Frequently
these ideas, like the words and phrases, become transformed, and
were turned slightly from their previous position to reflect the
new situation which they illustrated” (p. 158) .
If so, the effort of the critic should be directed towards the
definition of the new synthesis: to describe the special features
of a play and the individual talent of the author. And in effect
19 For a more moderate statement on Elizabethan dramatic conventions, see M. C.
Hyde, Playwriting for Elizabethans, 1600-1605, (New York, 1929), ch. VII, Con¬
ventions : “Those most difficult of acceptance by present day critics are the fre¬
quent lack of motivation, the inconsistencies in characterization, and the omission
of promised action and requisite scenes” (p. 204),
20 For a critical analysis of a book with a similar theme, see B. Croce, ' Conver¬
sazioni critiche , V, 1939, 86-87.
200 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
this is what Spencer does in the best part of his book. He reviews
the feeling for death in Marlowe, Shakespeare, Chapman, Tour¬
neur, Webster and Ford, and finds that it is different in each:
heroical in Chapman, resigned in Webster, decadent in Ford, and
“pagan” in Tourneur. In Marlowe the author’s attitude varies
from play to play: in Shakespeare it is not prominent, being
overshadowed by his intense feeling for life.
Here at last we seem to have reached a fruitful approach to
literary criticism: the study of the artistic personality of indi¬
vidual writers, as manifested in their work. To collect themes
and commonplaces may be useful for a dictionary of quotations
or a concordance, but as an approach to criticism it tends to blur
individual features and destroy vital distinctions.
We can now see clearly — and this will be our conclusion —
that the term convention is extremely vague and covers a multi¬
tude of sins. Its most exact use is to denote “stage conventions,”
which are stage usages established to overcome some material
obstacle to production. In literature, conventions as mechanical
repetitions of a previously used feature should be sharply dis¬
tinguished from the creative adaptation of a feature to a new
context, in which it is absorbed and transformed. Attempts to
confer a more positive artistic function to conventions by Stoll,
Eliot and their school seem to lead to blind alleys.21 As a critical
instrument, “convention” is definitely dangerous, for it tends to
replace a standard of excellence with what is merely a test of
conformity.
21 For a recent re-statement of a similar doctrine, see Y. Winters, “Poetic Con¬
vention,” in In Defence of Reason (1947, 2nd ed.), pp. 75—89. And for an earlier
attack on the term : “The pedantry of our own day has borrowed ‘conventions’
from history and ‘technique’ from science as substitutes for the outworn formulae
of the past ; but there are merely new names for the old mechanical rules ; and
they too will go, when criticism clearly recognizes in every work a spiritual crea¬
tion governed by its own law.” J. E. Spingarn, Creative Criticism (New York,
1925), pp. 24-25.
CERTAIN PHYSICAL, CHEMICAL AND BIOLOGICAL
ASPECTS OF THE BRULE RIVER, DOUGLAS
COUNTY, WISCONSIN
BRULE RIVER SURVEY REPORT NO. 11
D. John O’Donnell and Warren S. Churchill
Wisconsin Conservation Department
Introduction
The first ten publications on the Brule River Survey were
concerned each with a specific major phase of the investigation.
These included detailed reports on the history of fishing, vegeta¬
tion of the watershed, aquatic plants, parasites of the Brule
fishes, vegetative cover, the brook lamprey and others. The
present paper is the final one of the series and includes sections
on a number of the physical, chemical and biological aspects,
such as, anchor ice, fishes and populations, movement of fishes,
spawning areas, food of fishes, chemistry and others. An aerial
guide is included as an appendix indicating all check points.
SOME ASPECTS OF ANCHOR ICE FORMATION, WITH PARTICULAR
REFERENCE TO THE BRULE RIVER
From about November 15 to the latter part of April of each
year the Brule River has ice conditions of one or all of the three
types of ice. The earliest to appear is frazil ice and later anchor
and surface ice. Likewise, frazil is the last to disappear in the
spring.
Frazil ice forms when stream velocities are such as to prevent
the formation of surface ice and the temperature of the water is
32 degrees Fahrenheit. Enough latent heat is released during
formation to maintain the temperature of the water at 32
degrees Fahrenheit. Frazil ice forms in maximum quantities on
clear windy nights and cloudy windy days and appears as fine,
elongated needles of ice. Frazil occurs in the Brule River from
the Stone’s Bridge area to the mouth and since the river contains
almost 200 riffles and falls in the ice area, such agitation is an
important factor in frazil formation in maximum quantities. It
moves long distances in open water and under ice cover and fre¬
quently combines with anchor ice to form anchor ice dams and
increase the water level as much as three feet. (Figure 1)
201
Figure 1. Anchor ice dam on Brule River, Douglas County, Wisconsin.
pools. As the sun rays reach the ice formation it is detached from
the bottom, raising sand, rocks, vegetation and bottom organisms
which then float downstream to gradually disintegrate and drop
the material being carried or to lodge in some area and by the
addition of frazil crystals form anchor ice dams. Anchor ice may
become one foot thick and several feet in diameter during a
single night.
Anchor ice has attracted considerable attention due to the
peculiar manner in which it forms. It is found attached or
anchored to the bottom of a stream, hence the name anchor ice.
It has been observed in all countries where stream ice is formed
and is known as ground ice, bottom ice, ground-gru, and lap-
pered-ice. In France it is glace-du-fond ; in Germany it is Grund-
202 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
Anchor ice is quite similar in crystal structure, but is formed
in an entirely different manner. The accepted theory is that
anchor ice formation is due to the transmission of heat by radia¬
tion. Anchor ice is never formed under ice cover or under
bridges. It forms during the night when radiation from the
ground is at a maximum, however, it will occasionally form in
small quantities during very cloudy days. From our observations
it was noted that formation occurred most rapidly on the darkest
rocks and was also more abundant in shallow waters than in
1954] O’Donnell & Churchill — Brule River Survey No. 11 203
eis and the French-Canadians call it moutonne ice because it
appears like the white backs of sheep at rest.
From his personal observation, M. Beaun in 1788 wrote sev¬
eral papers on ground ice. Fishermen noted that their eel baskets
would frequently rise to the surface and be incrusted with ice.
Boat anchors were occasionally raised to the surface.
M. Desmarest was probably the first scientist to make observa¬
tions on the actual formation of ground ice. Ireland in 1792 pub¬
lished his “Picturesque Views of the River Thames,” and re¬
marked, “The watermen frequently meet the ice meers, or cakes
of ice, in their rise, and sometimes in the underside enclosing
stones and gravel brought up by them ad imo.”
The Reverend Mr. Eisdale published a paper on “Observations
on Ground Ice” in the Edinburgh Philosophical Journal for 1834.
He formulated an original theory by which to explain ground ice.
He explained the formation of ice as commencing on the bottom
and extending upwards to the surface and forming only in the
most rapid streams.
In 1835 and 1841 the Reverend Dr. Farquharson published two
papers on ground ice in the Philosophical Transactions. He con¬
cluded that ground ice is formed by radiation and he attempted
to prove his conclusion by the use of the principle of dew forma¬
tion.
The first use of the term anchor ice was in the United States
when it was used in the Encyclopaedia Americana in 1831.
Much confusion existed on the relation of anchor ice to frazil
ice. Barnes, in 1906, attempted to clear up this point by designat¬
ing anchor ice as all ice found attached to the bottom irrespective
of its nature of formation. In this way frazil ice becomes anchor
ice when it becomes attached to the bottom. Frazil ice forms in
the water itself by rapid surface cooling through wind or rapid
agitation. Anchor ice is usually formed in situ on the bed of a
stream, and may grow by attaching to itself frazil crystals
brought down by currents.
Even as early as 1810, three kinds of river ice were known to
Germany. They were distinguished as: (1) that which forms on
the surface, (2) that formed in the middle of the water, resem¬
bling nuclei or small hail, and (3) ground ice, which is formed
on the bottom, especially where there is any rough substance to
which it may adhere. These three kinds of ice we now term sheet,
frazil and anchor ice.
Barnes, in 1906, proposed that all of the evidence points to
radiation as the prime cause of anchor ice and cites the following
as proof. Water flowing over the bottom rocks of a stream is
always very near the freezing point. Barnes has shown that devi-
204 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
ations from the freezing point are seldom as great as 1/100
degree Fahrenheit. The bottom is continually warmed slightly by
the conduction of heat from the earth. After a thin layer of ice
is built up, further additions are rapid. The radiation of heat
from the bed of a stream is continuous to the colder air above.
Under a clear sky, during the daytime, the heat of the sun is
radiated through the water and this offsets the cooling effect
produced by space radiation. On a cloudy day, the heat rays are
reflected back. A clear night in winter, with little air motion, is
ideal for excessive radiation. Most of the heat from the sun is
absorbed in the top water and a few rays reach the bottom. How¬
ever, radiation from the bottom consists of long rays which pene¬
trate the water more easily. The heat of the sun is absorbed by
the water and little reaches the bottom while much of the radia¬
tion from the bottom is out into space.
The observed facts point to radiation as the prime cause of
anchor ice formation. Anchor ice forms rapidly under a clear sky
but never under a cloudy sky. A bridge or other cover prevents
ice formation because heat waves are reflected back to the
bottom. It forms on dark rocks more readily than light ones.
Anchor ice is aided in its growth by the entangling of frazil
crystals which are always present in the water. Under the influ¬
ence of a bright sun, anchor ice is caused to lift and move down¬
stream.
Surface ice is that which forms on the surface, beginning at
the sides and spreading to the center, as the surface water con¬
tinues to cool below 39.1 degrees Fahrenheit and down to 32
degrees Fahrenheit, at which time ice begins to form. Surface
ice in five conditions may be encountered : ( 1 ) complete cover in
flotation; (2) partial cover (shelf ice), usually in flotation; (3)
complete cover bridged across; (4) jams due to piling up of ice;
or (5) alternate layers of ice and water. The first four types
have been found in the Brule River. Complete cover is quite gen¬
eral in the widespreads, such as Big Lake. Shelf ice is most
common and is found throughout the length of the river. Com¬
plete cover bridged across results when an anchor ice dam, for
example, releases. Jams are found during the late winter as shelf
ice breaks away and moves downstream.
ANCHOR ICE STUDIES
Since anchor ice was such an obvious phenomenon in the Brule
River during the late winter season, it was deemed desirable to
obtain some facts on the amount of disturbance to the environ¬
ment caused by such ice.
1954] O'Donnell & Churchill — Brule River Survey No. ll 205
Twenty separate samplings of anchor ice were made over a
period of weeks. The method consisted in collecting a quantity of
anchor ice with an estimation being made of the per cent of the
collection to the total stream load during a definite time interval.
The samples were allowed to melt and the water was measured,
the aquatic organisms sorted and counted and the bottom mate¬
rials (sand and rocks) measured and weighed. The size of sam¬
ples varied from a few gallons (melt state) to 25 to 30 gallons.
The anchor ice flow varied from very light to medium heavy
(2,000 to 20,000 pounds, water weight) . However, since the prin¬
ciple objective was to determine the average amount of disturb¬
ance of the bottom environment, the results of the samples were
averaged to indicate the amount of materials moved by a given
point in one hour.
The amount of ice (as water weight) moving past a given
point in one hour varied from 2,877 to 22,918 pounds, with an
average movement of 11,161 pounds, or almost six tons per hour.
The amount of inert materials, such as sand, gravel, sticks, and
leaves being carried by the anchor ice varied from 30 to 140
pounds, with an average of 75 pounds per hour. In addition to
the bottom materials the ice carried large numbers of aquatic
organisms utilized by trout for food. The number of these being
carried past a given point each hour varied from 4,440 to 16,560
with an average of 9,480. Since, after lifting from the bottom,
anchor ice frequently moved past a given point for hours, fre¬
quently ten hours, the average movement past a point in one day
could amount to 111,611 pounds (56 tons) of anchor ice, 750
pounds of bottom materials and 94,800 fish food organisms. With
almost daily anchor ice formation, lifting, movement, and drop¬
ping, through the winter months, the total disturbance to the
bottom environment could reach such proportions as to be a
limiting factor to the trout population.
Extensive scouring and movement of bottom materials occur
when the anchor ice dams give way and suddenly discharge a
large amount of water. The formation of and release of anchor
ice dams has a marked effect upon the hourly stage and discharge
of a stream. The U. S. Geological Survey has records of sudden
and sharp changes in the stage and discharge at the gauging
station on the Oconto River near Gillett, Wisconsin, due to
anchor ice control. The water-level gauge reading dropped
twenty inches within ten hours due to an anchor ice dam form¬
ing upstream and then with the release of the dam during the
next two hours, the gauge increased thirty six inches. During the
same period the discharge dropped from 699 second-feet to 93
second-feet and with the release of the anchor ice dam, the dis-
206 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
charge increased suddenly to 1,475 second-feet and the excess
discharge above mean continued for twelve hours.
Regular anchor ice formation and anchor ice dam formation
and release may be an important limiting factor to the fish popu¬
lation in a stream. The repeated disturbance of the bottom envi¬
ronment must exert a variable influence upon the fish, whether
trout, bass, or other species. The bottom materials are disturbed,
the fish food supply is reduced, spawning areas and food areas
may be smothered with sand and silt, aquatic vegetation is dis¬
turbed and lifted, and natural shelter may be damaged by anchor
ice and anchor ice dam release.
FISHES OF THE BRULE RIVER
An opportunity was afforded during the survey of the Brule
River, to collect and examine thousands of fish as a result of
sampling by electric shocker, seine, creel check, and by verifying
reports of certain catches. The river contains a population which
is typical of a trout stream as well as common fishes of the shoal
area of Lake Superior which inhabit the estuary and migrate
varying distances upstream. The fish fauna is composed of 29
species, of which the most common in the stream proper are the
brook trout, Salvelinus fontinalis, (Mitchill) ; the brown trout,
Salmo trutta Linnaeus; the rainbow trout, Salmo gairdnerii Rich¬
ardson; the common sucker, Catostomus c. commersonnii ( Lace-
pede) ; the longnose dace, Rhinichthys c. cataractae (Valencien¬
nes) ; and the creek chub, Semotilus a. atromaculatus (Mitchill).
The common fishes of the estuary include the yellow walleye,
Stizostedion v. vitreum (Mitchill) ; the northern sucker, Cato¬
stomus c. catostomus (Forster) ; the golden redhorse, Moxostoma
erythrurum (Rafinesque) ; the lake emerald shiner, Notropis a.
atherinoides Rafinesque; and at certain times of the years, the
American smelt, Osmerus mordax (Mitchill).
The following annotated list includes only those species which
were collected or caught during the survey operations.
Petromyzonidae
1. Ichthyomyzon fossor Reighard and Cummins, Michigan
brook lamprey. At the time of the survey only one other locality
in the state had been recorded for the species. Very common in
the lower two-thirds of the stream. One or more taken in every
shocker collection in the riffle and rapids area.
Osmeridae
2. Osmerus mordax (Mitchell), American smelt. Taken in
limited numbers in 1942, increasing in 1943, in the estuary of
the river.
1954] O'Donnell & Churchill — Brule River Survey No. 11 207
Salmonidae
3. Salmo trutta Linnaeus, brown trout. Brown trout fry were
introduced in 1920 with a plant of 10,800 fish. After the initial
plant, only 218 brown trout were planted during the next 14
years. A total of 376,042 trout were planted and further stocking
was discontinued in 1942 when it became evident that the brown
trout was becoming dominant. The brown trout is found through¬
out the river, more abundantly in the lower half.
Four specimens of “sebago” were taken during the survey.
One at the mouth of the river, one at Johnson’s Bridge, one at
the ranger station and one in Nebagamon Creek (a feeder), —
(see aerial guide in appendix). These are now considered to be
almost certainly brown trout from the deep water of Lake
Superior.
4. Salmo gairdnerii Richardson, rainbow trout. This species
was the first trout to be planted in the river. The introduction of
30,000 fry was made in 1892. Over the next 50 years there were
planted 1,449,952 rainbow trout. Distribution is throughout the
stream, more abundantly in the lower half. The principal spawn¬
ing migration from Lake Superior occurs in late fall and these
fish are easily recognized as “steelheads.”
5. Salvelinus fontinalis (Mitchill), brook or speckled trout.
Trout are never mentioned in any of the accounts of the Indian
history of the Brule River. Frequent mention is made of gather¬
ing wild rice, the hunting of game and the trapping of beaver
and other small animals. Daniel Greysolon Du Lhut discovered
the river in June, 1680, followed by an increasing number of
travelers and fur traders and trappers through 1803. All com¬
mented on beaver and beaver dams and the difficult navigation.
In 1803-4 Michel Curot, a fur trader, carried on intensive trap¬
ping of beaver and the river was cleaned of beaver and dams
destroyed. One of the first Americans to visit the stream was
Henry Rowe Schoolcraft. His party came to the river in 1831
and he wrote in his journal “the river is exceedingly cold and
clear and filled with thousands of real mountain brook trout.”
The reputation for trout and trout fishing increased steadily with
many outstanding catches reported, such as that of John Bardon
netting 1,500 pounds of trout in one day, and that of “Long
John” Murphy and a companion catching 500 trout by hook and
line in three days.
The first state stocking of brook trout in 1894 consisted of
10,000 fry. During the next 50 years the state planted 1,946,800
brook trout in the stream. Complaints of poor fishing started
about 1910, approximately five years after the main spawning
208 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48
grounds (34 acres of spring ponds in the middle section of the
river) came under private ownership and access for spawning
was denied by barricades. The same condition still prevails.
The brook trout inhabits the entire river in varying density,
being more abundant in the upper half, from Winneboujou
upstream.
Catostomidae
6. Catostomus commersonnii commersonnii Lacepede), white
sucker. — Present throughout stream. Especially abundant in the
slow water in the upper one-third.
7. Catostomus catostomus catostomus (Forster), longnose
sucker. — Limited almost entirely to the lower one-half of the
stream; ranger station to mouth. Increasing in abundance pro¬
gressing downstream. Especially abundant in the estuary during
spawning season.
8. M oxo stoma anisurum (Rafinesque) , silver redhorse. —Lim¬
ited to the estuary at the mouth of the river and upstream
approximately one mile. More abundant than the northern red-
horse.
9. Moxostoma aureolum (LeSueur), northern redhorse. — Lim¬
ited to the estuary at the mouth of the river and upstream
approximately one mile.
Cyprinidae
10. Couesius plumbeus plumbeus (Agassiz), lake chub. — Only
moderately abundant. Limited to the estuary at the mouth of the
river.
11. Rhinichthys atratulus meleagris (Agassiz), western black-
nose dace. — Taken in practically every collection. Extremely
abundant. Found in varied habitats from Stone’s Bridge to
Johnson’s Bridge, the middle half of the stream.
12. Rhinichthys cataractae cataractae (Valenciennes), long-
nose dace. — Abundant. Associate with the blacknose dace and
distributed in the same area.
18. Semotilus atromaculatus atromaculatus (Mitchell), north¬
ern creek chub. — Distributed throughout the upper three-fourths
of the stream, increasing in numbers from Johnson’s Bridge
upstream.
14. Chrosomus eos Cope, northern redbelly dace. — In small
numbers in the upper one-third of the stream, more abundant in
the headwater area.
15. Notropis cornutus frontalis (Agassiz), common shiner. —
Distributed chiefly in the estuary at the mouth of the stream
and in the widespreads and deeper portions of the upper river.
1954] O'Donnell & Churchill— -Brule River Survey No. 11 209
16. Notropis atherinoides atherinoides Rafinesque, emerald
shiner. — Very abundant at times in the estuary of the stream.
Ameiuridae
17. Ameiurus melas melas (Raffinesque), northern black bull¬
head. — Occasional specimens taken from Big Lake, Nebagamon
Creek (feeder from Nebagamon Lake), and the slow, deep water
near Stone’s Bridge.
18. Schilheodes mollis (Hermann), tadpole madtom. — One
specimen taken near McNeil’s Bridge a short distance above the
mouth of the stream.
Umbridae
19. Umbra limi (Kirtland), western mud minnow. — Distrib¬
uted principally in the slow flats in the middle of the stream and
in old oxbows in the same section.
Esocidae
20. Esox lucius Linnaeus, pike. — Present in moderate numbers
in the slow flats and oxbows of the middle section of the stream,
near the mouth of Nebagamon Creek and in Big Lake.
Percopsidae
21. Percopsis omiscomaycus (Walbaum), trout-perch. — Only
taken in the estuary at the mouth and a few miles upstream.
A lake species.
Percidae
22. Perea flavescens (Mitchill), yellow perch. — A few speci¬
mens were taken near the mouth of Nebagamon Creek and near
the mouth of the main stream.
23. Stizostedion vitreum vitreum (Mitchill), yellow walleye.
— Taken in limited numbers near the mouth of Nebagamon
Creek (a feeder) and near the mouth of the main stream. The
first planting of fish of any species consisted of 160,000 yellow
pike perch in Big Lake, an expansion of the river. The planting
was made in 1890.
24. Percina caprodes semifasciata (DeKay), logperch. — Taken
in one collection near the mouth of the stream.
25. Boleosoma nigrum nigrum (Rafinesque), Johnny darter. —
Spotty distribution. Limited in lower reaches. More abundant in
upper one-half of stream.
210 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
Centrarchidae
26. Lepomis macrochirus macrochirus Rafinesque, bluegill. — A
few specimens were taken in the extreme lower reaches of the
stream and near the center of the stream.
27. Ambloplites rupestris rupestris (Rafinesque), northern
rock bass. — One specimen taken near Scott’s Bridge in extreme
lower section of stream.
Cottidae
28. Cottus bairdii hairdii Girard, northern sculpin. — Very
common. Found in varying numbers throughout the stream.
Gasterosteidae
29. Eucalia inconstans (Kirtland), brook stickleback. — Very
common, especially in the middle section of the stream. Abundant
in the Little Brule River (a feeder) .
FISH POPULATIONS
Information on the fish population was derived from three
sources: a two-way weir and trap at Stone’s Bridge (Figure 2),
shocker collection (Figure 3) in the river and its tributaries, and
creel census data. The latter has been discussed in a previous
report.
Figure 2. Two-way weir and fish trap, Stone’s Bridge,
1954] O'Donnell & Churchill — Brule River Survey No. 11 211
Figure 3. Fish collection by use of electric shocker
equipment.
A weir was placed in the river at Stone’s Bridge, completely
blocking the channel and containing separate traps for fish mov¬
ing up and downstream. Trout taken from the trap were marked
with a metal tag and suckers by removal of a fin and returned
to the stream in the direction of travel.
Collections were made with the electric shocker in the upper
part of the river and its tributaries during the summer of 1944.
Thirty-two samples were taken in the river proper, including the
north and south forks, and 30 in the feeder streams.
TROUT POPULATION
Brook, brown, and rainbow trout are abundant in the Brule
River. All three species were taken in the weir and in shocker
collections in the upper river.
212 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
TABLE 1
Bottom Types and Fish Population Based Upon Twenty-Eight
Quantitative Shocker Collections
1954] O’Donnell & Churchill — Brule River Survey No. 11 213
TABLE 1 — (Continued)
Bottom Types and Fish Population Based Upon Twenty-Eight
Quantitative Shocker Collections
Acre-foot — one surface acre one foot deep.
Foot-mile — one mile long, one foot wide and one foot deep.
Brook trout are present from the headwaters to the region of
Cedar Island. Below this point none were taken by the shocker
and very few by anglers. They are present in some of the feeder
streams that enter the river below their preferred range.
Rainbow trout occur throughout the length of the river but
the larger individuals are restricted to the lower part. No rain¬
bows over ten inches in length were taken in the weir and only
one in the summer shocker samples. The upper limit of the range
of these larger fish seemed to be in the vicinity of the large
spawning grounds at Cedar Island. After spawning they move
downstream into the lake. Most of them probably winter there,
but some move back into the river in the fall. A shocker survey
in December of 1944 revealed many large rainbows in the
vicinity of the spawning grounds, where they were not found in
the summer.
Brown trout also occur throughout the length of the river,
with the adults ranging farther upstream than those of the rain¬
bow. Specimens up to 24 inches in length passed through the
weir and 12 to 14 inch fish were taken in shocker samples near
the forks.
Ages of trout were not determined but the growth rate of the
first few years may be inferred from the length distribution of
smaller trout. Brook trout taken with the shocker in July and
August fell into three size groups presumably representing year
classes, centered at about two and one-half, five, and seven and
one-half inches. Two year classes of rainbow, centered at about
214 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
two and one-half and six inches can be distinguished for the
same period. Two year classes of brown trout, at three and seven
inches are identifiable.
The ratio of suckers to trout passing through the weir was
7,690 to 755 or about 10 to 1. The ratio in shocker samples in the
main stream was 635 to 362 or less than 2 to 1. The inference is
that trout were more abundant in the region of weir than is indi¬
cated by the catch, but entered the traps less readily. Suckers
were most abundant in shocker samples between the forks and
Winneboujou.
The shocker samples also yielded a great many small fish of
other species, mainly muddlers, minnows, and darters. The ratio
of these fish to trout was almost 5 to 1. The species composition
of all shocker collections in the main river was :
Trout _ 12.5%
Sucker _ 22.0%
Miscellaneous _ . _ 65.5%
In the feeder streams the ratio was :
Trout _ 56.0%
Suckers _ 11.0%
Miscellaneous _ 33.0%
The density of population varies greatly throughout the
stream. There appears to be a definite relation between bottom
type and number of fish per unit of area. In all quantitative
samples in the main stream the average density was 614 fish per
acre and 126 trout per acre. Individual samples varied from 72
to 1,600 fish per acre. In the feeder streams, the average was
1,099 fish or 721 trout per acre.
In Table 1 population statistics are grouped according to
bottom types. There is a very clear correlation between density
of fish and bottom type, the population being lowest on mud
bottoms and highest on rubble.
THE MOVEMENT OF FISHES
It was deemed desirable to know the extent of movement of
various species of fishes in the Brule River proper and some
feeders during all seasons and during certain seasons of the year.
The methods consisted of the use of two-way weirs of the Platte
River Michigan type installed in two locations (Stone’s Bridge
and Ranger Station) and by using fyke nets set to collect fishes
moving upstream and downstream.
A two-way weir was constructed immediately below Stone’s
Bridge in the upper section of the river, with eight miles of
Number and Species of Fish Moving Upstream and Downstream in the Brule River at Stone's Bridge
1954] O’Donnell •& Churchill — Brule River Survey No. 11 215
13
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TABLE 2 — (Continued)
Number and Species of Fish Moving Upstream and Downstream in the Brule River at Stone’s Bridge
216 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
1954] O'Donnell & Churchill — Brule River Survey No. 11 217
stream above the weir. Operation was continuous from June 23,
1943 to June 23, 1944, with the traps being checked daily. Rec¬
ords were kept of species, individual length, water temperature,
and water levels. All fish were removed and then released in the
stream in the direction of movement before being trapped.
The outstanding feature of the data is the movement of the
sucker population in variable numbers throughout the year, ex¬
cept during short periods of extremely low water temperatures
(Table 2) . A sudden decrease in water level, which was probably
due to ice control, caused a sudden downstream migration of 388
suckers during the week of December 29. The spawning migra¬
tion of suckers was not in one direction but movement occurred
in approximately equal numbers, upstream and downstream. The
most unusual migration took place during the week of October
13 when 17 suckers moved upstream and 2,755 moved down¬
stream and 1,381 of these were taken in the downstream trap on
October 17. Again, the sudden movement coincided with a small,
but sharp drop in water level. The movement of all species of
fish was limited after the water temperature dropped below 40
degrees Fahrenheit. The water temperature remained under 40
degrees from November 3 to April 1.
The principal movement of brook trout occurred during the
month of October and the movement was about equal in num¬
bers, upstream and downstream. Good spawning grounds were
available both above and below the weir. No heavy run occurred
in brown trout although there was a slightly increased movement
downstream during the middle of October. The rainbow trout
exhibited some increased movement upstream during October
and a great increase in movement downstream during the month
of April.
There were 8,470 fish of all species taken in the traps during
the period of 52 weeks. Of these, 7,690 were common suckers
(90.79%), 181 were resident brook trout (2.14%), 206 were
tagged brook trout (2.43%), 109 were brown trout (1.29%),
259 were rainbow trout (3.06%), and 25 were miscellaneous
fishes (0.30%). The tagged brook trout were part of a stocking
of 6,000 legal size brook trout which were tagged and scatter
planted throughout the stream. A total of 755 trout of all species
were taken in the traps and these consisted of 181 resident brook
trout (23.97%), 206 tagged brook trout (27.28%), 109 brown
trout (14.44% ) , and 259 rainbow trout (34.30% ) .
A similar two-way weir of the Platte River Michigan type was
constructed in the middle section of the river near the Ranger
Station and operated in the same manner as the Stone’s weir
Number and Species of Fish Moving Upstream and Downstream in Brule River at the Ranger Station
(Mid Section of Stream)
218 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
1954] O'Donnell & Churchill — Brule River Survey No. 11 219
(Figure 4) . Many difficulties were experienced due to anchor ice,
excessive water volume and washouts. The weir was operated
from March 23, 1943, to May 23 at which time a washout
occurred which kept the weir inoperative until July 25. No fish
used the weir from July 26 through September 19 and only three
trout moved through from September 20 to October 3. The
numbers of fish moving through the weir are given in Table 3.
A total of 344 fish of all species used the weir during the period
of operation and 91 of these were trout. Movement was approxi¬
mately equal moving upstream (180 fish) and moving down-
Figure 4. Two-way weir and fish trap, Ranger Station.
stream (164 fish). Rainbow trout were most abundant with 35
moving upstream with the peak movement during the last week
in March, and 50 moving downstream with the peak during the
last week in April and the first two weeks in May. Only six
brown trout were recorded, five moving upstream and one down¬
stream. In addition to trout, several other species moved through
the weir. Common suckers moving upstream amounted to 27 and
the Lake Superior sucker 113 with the peak movement during
the first week in May. The movements downstream were reversed
with 100 common suckers and only seven Lake Superior suckers.
In addition, five yellow pike perch and one northern pike moved
downstream.
220 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
*One 25 pounds.
1954] O’Donnell & Churchill — Brule River Survey No. 11 221
Two fyke nets were set in Nebagamon Creek (major feeder)
in such a manner as to block fish movements and sample move¬
ments upstream and downstream. The nets were lifted daily for
25 days during the month of April. The numbers of fish taken
are tabulated in Table 4. The water temperature varied during
the period from 35 to 58 degrees Fahrenheit. Sixty-two trout,
principally rainbow, moved upstream, as well as one northern
pike and 54 common suckers. The movements of fish downstream
from Nebagamon Lake was more varied with 27 trout, 15 north¬
ern pike (one 25 pounds in weight), 10 yellow pike perch, 121
common suckers, 2 black bullheads, 1 perch, and 3 snapping
turtles.
The fish population of Big Lake (a widespread of the Brule
River) was checked for 28 net days during the month of July.
Fyke nets were used and no trout were caught. The total catch
consisted of 1,071 common suckers, 22 horned dace, 9 five-spine
stickleback, 2 muddlers, and 1 Johnny darter.
It is most apparent from the weir collections, shocker collec¬
tions, seine, and net collections that the common sucker is the
most abundant fish in the stream and comprises almost 25 per
cent of the total fish population.
SPAWNING AREAS AND TROUT SPAWNING
A survey of spawning area and observations on spawning of
trout were made in the fall of 1943. Most of the spawning activ¬
ity was found in three areas: Winneboujou, Cedar Island, and
South Fork Springs.
The South Fork originates in a series of springs. The current
is moderately fast here and the bottom is gravel suitable for
spawning beds. The first sign of activity was noticed on October
17 and on October 28, — about 75 brook trout, six to 12 inches
long were seen spawning in about four inches of water in one
area. Occasional nests were found for about one-half mile down¬
stream. No brown trout were seen in this area.
The spawning beds at Cedar Island were used by both brook
and brown trout. Brown trout spawned during most of October
while brook trout activity began late in October and continued
into November. The brown trout mostly spawned in deeper
water, though the beds of the two species frequently overlapped.
The available spawning grounds in the Cedar Island area con¬
sists of the part known as May’s Rip, about 400 feet long and a
stretch about 200 feet long below the bridge. Both have fast
water and a coarse gravel bottom. Brown trout were first ob¬
served on these beds on October 7 and by October 14 about 70
222 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
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1954] O'Donnell & Churchill — Brule River Survey No. 11 223
were present, spawning in about 18 inches of water. A few brook
trout were also seen at this time. By October 28, the brown trout
had left and the brook trout were spawning in the same area;
some were still active on November 24.
The main spawning area at Winneboujou consists of about
one and one-half acres of gravel bottom rapids above Highway
B. Thirty-four nests were counted here on October 18 and it is
probable that many more escaped notice. On the same day 12
more nests were counted in a gravel bar approximately 100 feet
long, about one-half mile above the main area.
A considerable area at and below the ranger station appears
suitable for spawning, but no activity was observed. Small
patches of suitable gravel occur between Stone’s Bridge and
Winneboujou, and also in the lower part of the river. A few
nests appeared on some of these spots, but no other large con¬
centrations were seen.
Wilson Creek appears to be suitable, at least for small trout.
The bottom is good gravel, though the water is shallow. No
spawning was observed here. Stoney Brook is also suitable and
trout eggs were found here in bottom samples. Some spawning
grounds are present in the Little Brule. This stream also receives
refugee fingerlings from the hatchery but they are blocked off
from the main river by several beaver dams.
Spawning of rainbow trout has been observed in both the
Cedar Island and the Winneboujou areas, on the same beds used
by the brown trout in the fall. It is unlikely that this species
utilizes the South Fork Springs.
Eight nests of rainbow trout were dug up in the spring of 1943
in the Cedar Island area. Eggs and fry washed out by the current
were caught on a screen and counted. The results appear in the
following table (Table 5). Large numbers of sucker eggs were
recovered along with the trout eggs, showing that suckers spawn
in the same beds. It is doubtful if this activity affects the trout
nests since trout eggs are usually well buried in gravel.
There is a series of spring ponds totaling approximately 34
acres in the Cedar Island region. All have gravel bottoms and
provide excellent spawning beds. They are interconnected and
originally opened into the river at several points. When the
Pierce Estate was developed, a private hatchery was established
and the entire chain of ponds was blocked off from the river.
Re-opening of these ponds would greatly increase the spawning
area available to the stream population.
Observations on Spawning of Trout
224 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
*Key.
— No evidence,
f Spawning preparations,
ft Heavy concentration
j Spawn was found.
1954] O'Donnell & Churchill — Brule River Survey No. 11 225
OBSERVATIONS ON SPAWNING OF TROUT
The object of this investigation was to gather additional infor¬
mation on the spawning habits of brook and brown trout in the
Brule River.
The observations were made at accessible areas along the
upper section of the Brule River in Douglas County and recorded
at one-week intervals. The atmospheric conditions with above
normal precipitation hampered visibility materially. Six stations
were set up on September 23, 1944, for observation (Table 6).
S.S.R.R. BRIDGE STATION
Water was too deep and dark for good observations. However,
on October 14 the first evidence of any preparations for spawn¬
ing was observed. Three brown trout were working over two
gravel beds that were 50 feet apart. Both beds were small. The
largest had a diameter of four feet. The trout were from 12 to
15 inches long. It was not until November 11 that eggs were
found in these beds and the eggs were definitely brown trout. On
the same date and in the same area a fourteen-inch brown trout
was found dead, apparently of internal hemorrhage. This station
has a great potential as a spawning area for rainbow trout. The
length of the area checked was five hundred feet. The bottom is
of gravel and sand with very little cover.
PIERCE ESTATE BRIDGE
The area checked at this station was two hundred feet long
and the width of the river (50 feet). This area is of semi-rapids
type with a coarse gravel bottom and shielded by many cedar
trees in and over the water. Seven spawning beds were found,
the largest having a diameter of eight feet. Five of these were
definitely identified as brown trout and two were brook trout.
Eggs were found in each. First evidence of spawning prepara¬
tions was found October 7 with a heavy concentration of trout
on October 14, when 21 trout were seen. Only two of these were
positively identified as brook trout. Trout 24 inches in length
were seen in the concentration. There was much fanning and
stirring of the gravel. Eggs were found in this area on October
21 and by October 28 eggs of the brown trout could be found
almost everywhere in five gravel beds. Several small brook trout
were working two beds directly below the bridge on this date
and by November 11 eggs were found in both beds. The brook
trout ranged from six to 12 inches in size with white pectoral
fins and red along the ventral surface. Brook trout were seen on
the spawning beds as late as November 24.
226 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
may’s rip
This constitutes an excellent spawning area. It is roughly four
hundred feet long with gravel bottom and trees projecting into
the water for shelter. The river in the area is of semi-rapids
type. Eleven large spawning beds were found here, the largest
being 12 feet in diameter. They were located along the entire
ripples. About 50 trout were seen here on October 14. Most of
the trout were large brown trout 20 inches and more in length.
On this day they were very active fanning and stirring the
gravel with great anxiety. Gravel and rocks to a four-inch diame¬
ter were excavated and re-piled to form the beds for the eggs.
Most of the eggs were found in 18 inches of water and covered
with two inches of gravel. By November 11 all of the large trout
had left but many small trout were spawning. Most of these were
brook trout. They were working in shallower water and some¬
times along the edge of the spawning beds of the brown trout.
By November 24 the second trout concentration had dispersed.
NORTH FORK OF THE BRULE AT LANDBERG’S
This is a small stream with clear cold water and gravel bottom.
Much of the stream is covered by overhanging banks, logs, and
willows which made it difficult to find the spawning beds. Evi¬
dence of spawning preparation was found October 7, and by
November 4, five small spawning areas had been located with
brook trout spawn in each one. The spawn was found in about
four inches of water. The trout that were seen on the spawning
beds were only six or seven inches long and acted exhausted
when disturbed.
BLUE SPRINGS ABOVE STONE’S BRIDGE
Huge springs bubble out of the earth at this station which flow
into the Brule River. The bottom is sandy. Two brook trout were
seen in the springs, but no evidence of spawning could be found.
The sand bottom seemed improper for spawning.
SOUTH FORK OF THE BRULE AT THE ROCKED-IN SPRINGS
This is one of the largest spawning areas for brook trout along
the entire upper Brule River. It extends from the slow waters at
the head of the meadows to the old dam. The water is clear and
cold with springs bubbling up along much of the way. The upper
part is covered with a heavy growth of alders. The stream at
this station is of semi-rapids type with a gravel bottom. The
area was first visited on October 14 when evidence of spawning
preparations were found. By October 28 the entire area seemed
1954] O'Donnell & Churchill — Brule River Survey No. 11 227
to be a mass of spawning beds. At least 75 brook trout were
seen on the beds that day and they ranged from six to 12 inches
in length. As one approached the uncovered area the trout caused
huge ripples as they swam away. The trout were spawning in
about four inches of fast water and in gravel that reached two
inches in diameter. Here one could see the larger trout take over
their favorite spawning spot and should a small trout enter along
the side, the larger trout would lash him with his tail. By Novem¬
ber 24, the concentration had been reduced to about two-thirds.
Brook trout spawn could be found along the entire way.
Summary
1. Large trout spawn earlier than small trout.
2. Brown trout spawned earlier than the brook trout.
3. Brown trout spawn in deeper water than brook trout.
4. Both brown and brook trout are highly colored during
spawning.
5. Brook and brown trout concentrate at definite places for
spawning purposes.
6. Brown trout spawn was found on May’s Rip one week before
the hatchery trout at the Pierce Estate were ready to spawn.
7. Highly oxygenated water and gravel bottom determine the
spawning areas.
8. Air and water temperatures are spawning factors.
9. Small trout appear to be driven away from the spawning
spots of the larger trout.
10. Trout lose much of their vitality during spawning.
In the great urge for reproduction, trout travel far and wide
to a place where the water is highly oxygenated and the bottom
is coarse gravel. Here they concentrate in great numbers con¬
stantly twisting and turning with great anxiety to show their
beautiful colors. Soon they begin to fan and excavate the gravel
to build a place where they can deposit their eggs when the tem¬
perature is right. Many are bruised and battered during this
time, and some die.
At about twelve noon on Friday, October 29, a pair of brook
trout, about 24 inches in length, were observed working on a
nest at Rand’s landing. They were about two feet out from the
log that joins the edge of the landing. There are several large
rocks here, and the bottom is gravel covered with sand. They
were clearly visible. Observations were made from 12 to 1 P.M.
and from 2 to 4 :30 P.M., at which time they were frightened by
some movements and did not return.
228 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
When first seen, the nest was about 1x2 feet, of gravel one
to two inches in diameter and well cleaned. The female was on
the nest, the male close beside her and about one-half his length
behind. Three small brook trout, presumably males, one about 12
inches long and the other two about eight inches, were swimming
or resting a few feet away, behind or beside the large fish. When
one approached within a foot of the fish on the nest, the male
would turn and chase it away about eight to ten feet and return
to his position.
The female was clearing the nest with no help from the male.
While on the nest, she rested on the bottom with paired fins out¬
spread and undulated slowly. In this movement her head re¬
mained almost stationary, her body moving in waves as in swim¬
ming, but slowly, and apparently with considerable effort. She
gave the impression that she was actually rubbing the bottom
with her pelvic and anal fins, perhaps loosening the gravel. Every
few minutes she would turn on her side and fan violently with
her tail, sending up a cloud of sand. After each fanning opera¬
tion she would circle around and nose at the nest before resum¬
ing her position. At about ten-minute intervals she would drop
back or move aside and rest. At such times the male would either
rest beside her or swim around and keep the smaller fish off the
nest.
During this procedure, the small fish remained a few feet
away, either behind or beside the larger fish, occasionally trying
to dart into the nest and being chased away by the male. The
female paid no attention to them. The larger of the small fish
would sometimes take up a position just behind the large male.
When he came too close, the large male would turn and chase,
apparently aware of his presence by movements of the water,
since he could not see him. When both large fish were absent, the
small ones swam around and over the nest until chased.
When the female rested off the nest, it seemed that toward the
end of each rest period the male would nudge her as if urging
her back to the nest.
At 2 o’clock, both fish were still on the nest, in the same posi¬
tion, but the movements of the female were different. She was
weaving slowly, but in much wider sweeps without effort. The
three small fish were still around.
After a few minutes, the large male swam away. His place was
taken by the largest of the small males, who held it until he
returned and then dropped back just behind him. This happened
several times during the period ; the large male was absent about
one-half of the time. While the small male held this place, he
sometimes turned to chase the smaller fish.
1954] O’Donnell & Churchill — Brule River Survey No. 11 229
After about half an hour, the female stopped weaving and lay
quiet on the nest. The large male was absent at this time, the
small one in his place. After the female stopped moving the small
male moved up beside her and rubbed against her side, then
dropped back. This happened seven times in about 15 minutes.
The female seemed to ignore him. Then she resumed her weaving
and fanning and chased the male away on his next approach.
This was the first time she seemed to notice him. He continued
his attempts and was sometimes chased, sometimes ignored. The
female kept on working. This continued until the large male
returned.
The large male replaced the small one and behaved the same
way; the female showed no response. Frequently, both fish left
the nest together, circled about six feet downstream and re¬
turned. Soon the advance of the female changed ; the male
approached, pressed against the female, arched his back slightly
and seemed to vibrate all over, especially the dorsal fin. The
approaches became more frequent and lasted longer. After three
or four long performances (each one-half minute) in close suc¬
cession the male swam away.
This must have been the time at which the eggs were laid.
They could not be seen because of the position of the fish. The
time was about 3 :30 P.M.
The female then moved up just above the nest and fanned as
before, stirring up considerable mud. After each fanning she
swam downstream four or five feet and waited for the mud to
settle, then returned to the nest where she lay quiet until the
next time. She continued this action for an hour or more, fanning
toward the nest from all directions.
The covering was a long and careful operation. Each time
after fanning, the female returned and lay on the nest, appar¬
ently investigating its condition. By 4:30 P.M. the nest was com¬
pletely covered and indistinguishable from the rest of the
bottom. The female worked more slowly toward the end.
During the covering process the male came and went at inter¬
vals. When present, he made advances as before, vibrating as
before, but was not so insistent. He seemed to gradually lose
interest, and at the end remained in the vicinity without making
advances. The small fish stayed around for the entire perform¬
ance.
Three times during the second period of observation the
female left the nest, rose to the surface and gulped. It was im¬
possible to determine whether she was feeding or taking in air.
The male did not do this.
230 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
October
October
October
October
October
October
October
October
October
October
October
Other Observations — Pool at Solsich Place
4 Saw about 30 large browns, may have been
more. Large area of gravel cleaned.
10 Fish still there; no apparent change.
19 Fish still there ; several finished nests in and
above the pool.
20 Six fish clustered over one nest. Three large in
V-formation, three smaller swimming around.
Large fish in center moved the least, could be
females, other large fish sometimes drifted
away and returned. After about ten minutes
all left, possibly frightened. One-half hour
later, two large fish chased away the smaller
ones and then took turns chasing each other.
Both always returned. No other fish seen in
pool but some might have been present.
26 No fish seen ; nests covered.
Channel East of Island Above Solsichs
4 Four large fish, apparently all males, on two
large cleaned areas. Chased each other fre¬
quently.
17 Four large fish present; three nests started.
20 One fish resting quietly on nest.
28 Female making nest ; lay quiet for a few
minutes, drifted back, circled around and re¬
turned, turned on side and fanned violently,
then rested and repeated the procedure. Male
arrived from upstream, swam around aim¬
lessly and went away again. This occurred
twice. Female swam away, returned often,
swam around but did not work on nest. Re¬
mained for a while at a short distance from
the nest and then swam off. This was probably
the end of the covering process. Two smaller
fish were swimming around all the time ;
remained after large fish left.
(All fish were brown trout)
Noyes Place
19 About 12 fish and 12 nests seen from canoe.
26 About 30 fish scattered over large cleared
areas of gravel. No individual nests distin¬
guishable. Occasionally one would approach
1954] O'Donnell & Churchill — Brule River Survey No. 11 231
October 28
October 29
November :
& 30
another and drop back again. Sometimes one
would chase another away. Saw one female
fanning, turned on her side. Several smaller
fish around the edge of the cleaned areas.
Fish appear somewhat more closely grouped
on four large beds, slightly more active than
last time.
No change.
No fish seen.
SPAWNING AREAS IN THE BRULE RIVER
The term “spawning area” is applied here to any part of the
river where the bottom is composed, entirely or in good part, of
gravel from 14 to 3 inches in diameter which is bare or may be
cleared off by the fish, where the water is deep enough for the
fish to maneuver, and the current is steady but not too fast. It is
assumed that smaller fish will spawn in smaller streams, and in
such places, areas of smaller water are listed.
Above the Fork
North Fork: Perhaps 1,000 square feet that appear suitable.
South Fork: An area at the head about 20 feet by 100 feet.
The upper part is quite clean ; no nest identified
but they could easily escape notice here. The
lower part has a light sand cover ; one nest iden¬
tified, one brook trout observed October 22, 1944.
About one-half mile below is a stretch about 10
feet by 20 feet where two nests were observed,
one occupied by a pair of brook trout. Below this
there are only occasional bare spots.
Forks to Stone's Bridge
This region has not been fully investigated. Three suitable
areas, each about 20 feet square were found in the first two miles
above Stone’s Bridge. There were two nests on one of these;
breeding fish (brown trout) were taken from another. There
may be other suitable areas above, but in general this part of the
stream is not suitable for spawning.
Stone's Bridge to May's Rip
This section includes one 500-foot stretch where about 15 per
cent of the bottom is usable. Aside from this there are only occa¬
sional areas of from 25 to 200 square feet where spawning might
be possible, perhaps 1,000 square feet in all. One nest was
observed just below a deflector on October 18.
232 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
May’s Rip to Winneboujou
There are three principle spawning areas in this section:
May’s Rip: a considerable area, 20 feet by 400 feet of gravel one
to four inches in diameter. Twenty-one nests seen here October
18, one occupied by a pair of brown trout. Noyes’ Place: A strip
of gravel about 100 feet by 15 feet, finer and more uniform than
at May’s Rip. About 12 nests and about 12 fish counted here
October 18. Winneboujou: A long strip of gravel about 1,500
feet long, 20 feet to 40 feet wide. The upper end is a large pool
50 feet by 100 feet. About 30 fish observed here October 4 ;
twenty-three nests counted October 18. Below this the stream is
narrower and the water faster. Eleven nests counted here Octo¬
ber 18, but many were probably overlooked because of poor
visibility.
In addition there are about a dozen smaller areas, totaling
perhaps one-half acre. Eight nests observed on these areas
October 18.
Winneboujou to Nebagamon Creek
Two areas, each about 50 feet square, have been used in other
years. Several smaller areas might be usable.
Nebagamon Creek to Little Joe
No suitable bottom.
Little Joe to Highway 2
Practically all good gravel to 500 feet below Ranger Station.
Spawning reported in two places here in other years. For the
next mile, about one-third of the bottom is good.
Highway 2 to Co-op Park
For the last two miles above Co-op Park, about one-half of the
bottom is rock and gravel, tightly packed with sand and mud.
Some area spots might be usable, but in general the bottom
appears to be too solid. Otherwise no suitable bottom.
Co-op Park to Johnson Bridge
Not fully investigated. Good gravel bed about 50 feet by 200
feet above bridge, about the same at McNeal’s Bridge. In gen¬
eral, this part of the river is similar to that between Co-op and
Johnson Bridge, with probably about the same proportion of
good bottom.
1954] O'Donnell & Churchill — Brule River Survey No. 11 233
Tributaries
Wilson Creek
About one mile, average cross section 3 feet by 1 foot. About
one-third of bottom bare gravel, another one-third lightly cov¬
ered with sand. Spawning reported in past.
B 31-1
About one-half mile, average cross section 2 feet by 6 feet.
Good gravel bottom but may be too shallow.
B 34
Reported good for spawning ; not investigated.
Little Brule
Reported spawning between hatchery and Sandy Run.
Stony Brook
About one-half of bottom is good gravel. Trout eggs found in
bottom sample last fall.
The Food of Trout and Muddlers
During the summer of 1944, the stomach contents of 164 brook
trout, 162 brown trout, 114 rainbow trout, and 60 muddlers were
examined. These fish represented 47 collections from the Brule
River and its tributaries in Douglas County, Wisconsin.
Material and Methods
With the exception of one fish taken in a fyke net and 16
caught by hook and line, all collections were made with the elec¬
tric shocker. Collections were made throughout the length of the
river and in all the principal feeder streams, and represent all
types of habitat found in the system.
Trout taken in these collections were separated into size
groups with a 50mm. class interval, and one to six specimens of
each species in each size group were selected at random for
stomach analysis. Muddlers were not separated by size or species.
When possible, stomachs were emptied immediately and the con¬
tents brought into the laboratory and kept on ice until examined.
In a few cases it was necessary to preserve the contents in the
field with formaldehyde. Individual stomachs were not kept sepa¬
rate; each sample examined represented all the fish of one size
and species in one collection.
234 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
Figure 5. Trout Foods.
Figure 6. Trout Foods.
1954] O’Donnell & Churchill — Brule River Survey No. 11 235
In the laboratory, unidentifiable material was removed from
each sample and the volume of the remainder was measured to
the nearest 0.1 ml. by displacement of water in a graduated cen¬
trifuge tube. The sample was then sorted and the percentage of
the total volume made up by each group of organisms was esti¬
mated and recorded (Figures 5 and 6) . The number of organisms
in each group was also recorded. The volume was then calculated
from the measured volume and the estimated percentage. In the
case of larger samples, the volumes of the various groups were
measured instead of estimated.
The following tables (7-10) show the percentage of the total
food of each species and size provided by the various groups of
food organisms listed.
TABLE 7
Food of Brook Trout, All Collections, 1944, by Volume
*Larvae and adults.
Certain differences in the diet of the three species of trout are
apparent upon comparing the three tables. Brook and brown
trout consumed approximately the same proportion of aquatic
insects, while rainbow trout ate more than either. Brook and
236 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
brown trout ate more fish and frogs than did the rainbow trout.
With the exception of a single group of rainbow trout, repre¬
sented by only four individuals, Oligochaete worms were not sig¬
nificant in the diets of brown and rainbow trout. They formed as
much as 25 per cent of the diet of brook trout. Brown trout con¬
sumed more land insects than either of the other species. Brook
trout ate more Crustacea than the other two species. The con¬
sumption of Crustacea by brown and rainbow trout was limited
to the smaller fishes. Diptera and nymphs of Trichoptera and
Ephemerida made up the bulk of the aquatic insects eaten by all
trout, however, the proportion of these groups varied in the diets
of the three species. Brook trout ate the greatest number of
Diptera and brown trout the least. Brook and brown trout con¬
sumed about the same amounts of Trichoptera, with rainbow
taking somewhat less. Ephemerida were the largest item in the
TABLE 8
Food of Brown Trout, All Collections, 1944, by Volume
‘Larvae and adults.
1954] O’Donnell & Churchill — Brule River Survey No. 11 237
TABLE 9
Food of Rainbow Trout, All Collections, 1944, by Volume
TABLE 10
Food of Muddlers, All Collections, 1944, by Volume
Number of stomachs
Total volume, ml. . . .
% of total volume provided by:
Oligochaeta .
Gastropoda .
Amphipoda .
Ephemerida nymphs
Coleoptera .
Plecoptera nymphs . .
Trichoptera larvae. .
Diptera larvae .
Fish .
60
7.8
13.0
0. 1
32.8
1.5
0.4
0.2
14.7
1 .4
35.9
238 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
diet of brown and rainbow trout but were taken sparingly by
brook trout. Brook trout ate a greater proportion of insects,
other than these three groups, the number increasing with the
size of the trout.
The food of muddlers is not as varied as that of trout. Four
groups, — fish, amphipods, oligochaetes, and trichoptera larvae,
furnish 97 per cent of the diet, with fish being of most impor¬
tance.
CHEMISTRY AND WATER FLOW
The 22-year average mean rainfall for the Brule River basin
is 27.5 inches per year. The elevations within the watershed vary
from 602 feet at the level of Lake Superior to 1,220 feet for the
high lands, however, the ridges are not high enough to affect the
distribution of rainfall over the basin. The lowest average rain¬
fall occurs in the month of January (.93), while February,
March, November, and December have 1.00 to 2.00 inches, April,
August, and October have 2.00 to 3.00 inches, and May, June,
July, and September have 3.00 to 4.00 inches, with the peak
rainfall occurring in July (3.96).
TABLE 11
Water Temperatures From Headwater to Mouth of Stream, Taken on
Same Day. Degrees Fahrenheit
Run-off records have been kept at intervals since 1914. On
March 20, 1914, a minimum discharge of 115 second-feet was
recorded and on April 21, 1916, a maximum discharge of 1,490
second-feet was recorded with the drainage area above the gaug¬
ing station being 162 square miles. Records were obtained again
during 1928 to 1930 with the gauging station at a point covering
a drainage area of 181 square miles. The maximum stage
1954] O’Donnell & Churchill — Brule River Survey No. 11 239
occurred on March 30, 1929 (discharge 905 second-feet), and a
minimum discharge of 118 second-feet was recorded on August
18, 1930. The 1943 records of the survey were based upon a
drainage area of 130 square miles. The maximum discharge was
426 second-feet on June 14 and a minimum discharge of 67
second-feet on March 13. Even considering the differences in
drainage area above the gauging stations there is every indica¬
tion that the maximum discharge is being reduced and the mini¬
mum discharge is becoming stabilized. Undoubtedly more of the
rainfall is being retained in the watershed soils as the watershed
cover increases.
TABLE 12
Air and Water Temperatures at Two Stations; Stone’s Near
Headwaters and Ranger Station in Middle Section.
Degrees Fahrenheit
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
Chemical Data for Brule River, Douglas County (See Aerial Guide,
240 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
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1954] O’Donnell & Churchill — Brule River Survey No. 11 241
Since water temperature is a prime factor in the life require¬
ments of trout, a series of water temperatures was taken on the
same day from the headwaters to the mouth of the river. These
readings were taken during August, a month when peak temper¬
atures prevail. The results are shown in Table 11.
The headwater pond is somewhat exposed and has a higher
water temperature than further downstream. The stream con¬
tinues to cool down through the Stone Chimney, Stone’s and
Pierce Bridges, a section of good cover and numerous springs.
The wide expanse of Big Lake causes an increase in temperature
which continues to the mouth except for some cooling in the
Co-op and Johnson Bridge areas.
Air and water temperatures were recorded at two stations,
one near the headwaters (Stone’s) and one in the middle section
of the stream (Ranger Station), during the months of July and
August. The data are given in Table 12.
During July, the upper station reached water temperature
peaks of 65 degrees Fahrenheit and the middle station 72 de¬
grees. During August, the peaks were 69 degrees and 74 degrees
respectively.
Considerable chemical analyses were made at many points
along the main stream as well as feeders. The general water
chemistry of the river is satisfactory as may be seen in Table
13, a tabulation of data from certain sections of the river. Sector
AB is near the mouth and Sector KL is near the headwater.
Summary and Recommendations
The Brule River system drains an area of 185 square miles
and flows northward to Lake Superior. In early past glacial
times, a much larger stream, the outlet of Lake Duluth flowed
southward through the valley. Valley characteristics are the re¬
verse of the “normal” watershed. The stream rises in the bog
bottom of a mile-wide trench one hundred feet below the level of
the sandy barrens and at an elevation of 1,022 feet. Total fall
amounts to 420 feet. Fall from the headwaters to the beginning
of the copper range (near Brule) is only 92 feet in a distance of
30 stream miles. Most of this occurs in the lower part of sector
JK and in sectors HI and GH. The fall through the five miles of
copper range amounts to 85 feet, while the falls in the lower
reaches, starting about midway between Co-op and Johnson’s
Bridges, amounts to 243 feet. The most rapid fall is in sector
EF with a fall of 110 feet in three stream miles.
The Brule flows through a broad, flat, boggy valley in the head¬
water area down to Cedar Island. Then through a series of short
242 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
rapids and the “lakes” down to the mouth of Nebagamon Creek.
The stream is generally sluggish and meandering from Nebaga¬
mon Creek to the rapids above Co-op Park. Few aquatic plants
are found in this section. The lower course from the Co-op rapids
to the mouth is a series of short rapids and falls with short pools
of quiet water. Little aquatic vegetation is present. This is the
area of red clay and the majority of the 29 major slump banks
occur in this region.
The flow of the Brule is subject to less fluctuation than that of
any other stream in the drainage area. The lowest observed flow
(22-year record) being 118 second-feet and the highest, 1,490
second-feet. Natural regulation is due primarily to the yield
from the spring bog area of the headwaters and downstream to
the rapids below Cedar Island. Discharge is affected somewhat
by ice cover during the winter, and especially to anchor ice for¬
mation. Anchor ice occurs from the lower end of Big Lake down¬
stream to the mouth and frequently forms anchor ice dams.
The fish population consists of at least 29 species, the most
conspicuous of which are brook, brown, and rainbow trout, white
sucker, and pike. In addition, there are variable numbers of
yellow pike perch, longnose sucker, 5-spine stickleback, muddlers,
mud minnows, Johnny darter, horned dace, sharpnosed dace,
black bullhead, rock bass, smallmouth black bass, sunfish, perch,
and silver redhorse.
Available trout foods are extremely abundant in the upper
river (above Big Lake) and are reduced gradually toward the
mouth. Caddis and scuds are predominant in the upper section,
caddis and mayfly in the middle section, and stone flies in the
lower section. The food grade in general is very rich.
Most of the trout contain food in the stomach except during
the spawning season. The trout food consists of insects princi¬
pally; the proportion of aquatic forms being very high during
the spring and decreasing during the summer. In late summer
and early fall, land insects are the predominant food. Aquatic
foods, except for mollusca, are in about the same proportion as
found in the bottom samples. Other animal groups forming
appreciable percentages of the total diet are: entomostraca (in
small fish), scuds, crayfish, fish, lampreys, and in addition, trout
eggs. Plant material was found in large amounts only in rainbow
trout where such materials frequently composed up to one-third
of the total contents. Fish have been found in all three species of
trout, mostly in brown trout. Sticklebacks, muddlers, dace, and
small trout have been identified. Trout eggs were eaten during
the month of May. Twenty-nine tags from the tagged brook trout
plants were found in the stomach of a four-pound brown trout.
1954] O’Donnell & Churchill — - Brule River Survey No. 11 243
Molluscs form a very small proportion of the food. A few snails
were found in stomachs, no bivalves. The principle food of the
small suckers was found to be entomostraca. In large suckers,
molluscs and insects were predominant.
1. Chemistry — pH — main stream 6.8 to 7.8 progressing down¬
stream; tributaries all slightly alkaline. Alkalinity 14-31 ppm
CaC03 in the main stream, increasing downstream; feeders 20-
30 ppm CaC03. Dissolved oxygen 9.3-12.63 ppm throughout the
year. Highest water temperature 78 degrees (August), Big Lake
and below. Food conditions good. Severe silting from ranger
station to Lake Superior. Anchor ice formation from Big Lake
to mouth.
2. Suckers vary from 10 per cent to 95 per cent of total fish in
sections sampled by electric shocker equipment. High percentage
in main stream, low in tributaries. Suckers not found in trout
stomachs. Recommend further study on relation of suckers to
trout.
General Species Composition
Species Main Stream Feeders
Trout . 12.5% 56.0%
Suckers . . 22.0% 11.0%
Other . 65.5% 33.0%
3. Average number of trout per acre in feeders — 2,590.
(Approximately 300 per 1,000 feet of stream, 5 feet wide.)
Recommend all feeders to be open to fishing.
4. Condition factor of all trout collected and checked in creel
is good — (1.52-1.72). Excessive planting of trout might reduce
average condition and result in lean fish.
5. Recommend that present fishing season remain in effect and
include all species. In addition, we recommend an open period in
the fall to take advantage of any fall run of rainbow trout in
that area between Lake Superior and Highway U. S. 2.
6. Recommend public acquisition of Cedar Island spring ponds
to make area accessible as natural spawning grounds.
7. Protect the headwaters swamp.
(a) There should be no cutting of timber or removal of dead
timber.
(b) The alders should not be cut except insofar as to allow
a very narrow passage for a canoe.
(c) No roads, trails or other “improvements” should be
placed through the headwaters swamp.
(d) None of the springs in the Upper Brule should be
opened up or otherwise interfered with or altered.
(e) There seems a possibility that control of overbrowsing
by deer may be necessary.
244 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
8. In the large spreads, i.e., Big, Lucius, and Spring Lakes, if
it seems desirable to narrow the stream and reduce isolation, the
planting of wild rice and water lilies is recommended on the mud
flats.
9. Control of the barrens is not necessary. (See report No. 5)
10. Institution of an erosion control program for the Nebaga-
mon Creek Watershed is very desirable.
11. Problems of the lower Brule.
(a) Anchorage of slip banks by vegetative and other means
may reduce somewhat the silt load in the river, although
such banks are a normal feature of geologically young
streams and can not be controlled.
(b) The area open to cattle for watering along the river
should be limited in order to reduce that possible source
of erosion.
(c) The cutting of timber on the immediate banks of the
stream and along the banks subject to slumping should
be very limited.
(d) No attempt to straighten or otherwise “improve” the
stream is recommended.
(e) Control of the erosion on highways, ditches, and banks
by changing the method of grading in order to obtain
more permanent slopes and a vegetative cover is recom¬
mended.
(f) The erosion on the access roads to cottages should be
controlled.
Literature Cited
Eisdale, Rev., 1834. Observations on ground ice. Edinburgh New Philo¬
sophical Journal. Vol. 17, p. 167.
Farquharson, Rev. James, 1835. On the ice formed under peculiar circum¬
stances at the bottom of running water. Philosophical Trans, of the
Royal Soc. of London. Vol. 125, p. 329.
Farquharson, Rev. James, 1841. On ground gru or ice formed under peculiar
circumstances at the bottom of running water. Philosophical Trans, of
the Royal Soc. of London. Vol. 131, p. 37.
Barnes, Howard T., 1906. Anchor ice formation from the standpoint of the
radiation theory, together with some early memoirs on ground ice.
Trans, of Royal Soc. of Canada. Second series. Vol. 12, Sec. 4, pp. 65-
109.
- . 1906. Ice Formation with special reference to Anchor Ice and Frazil.
John Wiley & Sons, New York.
1954] O'Donnell & Churchill — Brule River Survey No. 11 245
AF'PEMIDIX
AN AERIAL GUIDE
TO
BRULE RIYER
DOUGLAS COUNTY
WISCONSIN
1952
246
Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
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1954] O’Donnell ■& Churchill— -Brule River Survey No. 11 247
248 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 43
1954] O'Donnell & Churchill — Brule River Survey No. 11 249
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TRANSACTIONS
OF THE
WISCONSIN ACADEMY
OF
SCIENCES, ARTS AND LETTERS
VOL. XLIV
1955
The publication date of Volume 44 is
April 13, 1956
TRANSACTIONS
OF THE
WISCONSIN ACADEMY
OF
SCIENCES, ARTS AND LETTERS
VOL. XLIV
NATURAE SPECIES RATIOQU E
MADISON, WISCONSIN
1955
The publication date of Volume 44 is
April 13, 1956
OFFICERS OF THE WISCONSIN ACADEMY OF SCIENCES
ARTS AND LETTERS
President
Ralph N. Buckstaff, The Buckstaff Co., Oshkosh
Vice Presidents
In Science: Joseph Baier, Jr., UW Extension Div., Milwaukee
In Arts: Don Schlafke, Institute Paper Chemistry, Appleton
In Letters: F. Chandler Young, University of Wisconsin
Secretary-Treasurer
Robert J. Dicke, University of Wisconsin
Librarian
Gilbert H. Doane, University of Wisconsin
Council
The President
The Vice-Presidents
The Secretary-Treasurer
The Librarian
Paul W. Boutwell, past president
A. W. Schorger, past president
H. A. Schuette, past president
L. E. Noland, past president
Otto L. Kowalke, past president
W. C. McKern, past president
E. L. Bolender, past president
Katherine G. Nelson, past president
C. L. Fluke, past president
Committee on Publications
The President
The Secretary-Treasurer
Fred R. Jones, University of Wisconsin
Committee on Membership
The Secretary-Treasurer
G. Van Biesbroeck
J. J. Chopp
C. L. Fluke, chairman
E. F. Herman
H. Meyer
Representative on the Council of the American Association
for the Advancement of Science
Robert J. Dicke, University of Wisconsin
Chairman, Junior Academy of Science
John W. Thomson, Jr., University of Wisconsin
Editor, Wisconsin Academy Review
Walter E. Scott, Conservation Department, Madison
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Page
Chemical Industry in Early Wisconsin. Aaron J. Ihde and James W.
Conners . . . 5
A Short Way Around Emerson’s Nature. William L. Hedges ........ 21
Notes on Wisconsin Parasitic Fungi. XXI. H. C. Greene . . 29
An Investigation of the Chemical Oxygen Demand Determination. Ger¬
ald W. Lawton . . . . . . . . 45
Dylan Thomas: The Elemental Poet. Martha Haller Wilde . 57
Effect of Eradicants on the Microbiological Properties of Nursery Soils.
D. J. Persidsky and S. A. Wilde . . . 65
The Prehistoric Engineer-Farmers of Chihuahua. Robert A. McCabe 75
A Harvard Graduate Goes West: Robert Adams Coker and the High¬
land School in the 1830’s. Robert H. Irrmann . . 91
The Influence of Science on American Literary Criticism, 1860-1910,
Including the Vogue of Taine. Harry Hayden Clark ........... 109
A Guide to the Subfamilies and Tribes of the Family Ichneumonidae
(Hymenoptera) Known to Occur in Wisconsin. Lois K. Smith and
Roy D. Shenefelt . . . . . 165
General Topology, Symmetry, and Convexity. Preston C. Hammer . . 223
CHEMICAL INDUSTRY IN EARLY WISCONSIN1
Aaron J. Ihde and James W. Conners
University of Wisconsin , Madison, Wisconsin
The term “chemical industry” can be used in a variety of ways.
In its strictest sense it applies only to those industries partici¬
pating in the production of chemicals, i.e., salts, acids, bases,
solvents, and intermediates. Such products rarely reach the
hands of ultimate consumers but are purchased by industrial
processors who utilize them for their ability to transform raw
materials into those products desired by the ultimate consumer.
According to this designation, the smelting of lead for use in ,
lead pipe is not a chemical industry but the production of white
lead and red lead for the use of the paint industry is one.
Numerous industries not directly involved in the production of
chemicals are nevertheless dependent upon chemical changes for
their success. This is true of the smelting of metal ores, the fer¬
mentation of carbohydrates to alcoholic beverages, the purifica¬
tion of cellulose in the production of pulp and paper, the bleach¬
ing of pulp and of textiles, the dyeing of textiles, the tanning of
skins, the curing of cheese, and the production of soap. These
industries are generally characterized as the “chemical process
industries.,,
A related type of industry is the one which produces no chem¬
icals, depends upon no chemical reactions, but uses chemicals
essentially unchanged in the fabrication of consumer products
such as paints, matches, and pharmaceuticals. This may well be
termed the “chemical consuming industry.”
We propose to examine the early development of Wisconsin
industry in all of these categories rather than limiting our dis¬
cussion solely to those industries which are chemical industries
only in the strict use of the term. A major reason for using this
broad approach lies in the difficulty of separating one activity
from another. The paper industry, for example, is quite likely to
produce for its own use, such chemicals as chlorine, sodium
hydroxide, sulfite, and sulfate. To that extent it is truly a chem¬
ical industry. It uses these chemicals in the production of pulp
and paper and therefore is a chemical process industry. It uses
1 Based upon material presented at the annual meeting- of the Wisconsin Academy
of Sciences, Arts, and Letters, Madison, Wisconsin, April 24-25, 1953.
5
MAY 8 1956
6 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
such chemicals as alum, clay, rosin, and casein for the sizing of
paper so it is also a chemical consuming industry.
Geography
Chemical industry, just as other industry, is influenced in its
development by geographic location and the availability of raw
materials. The State of Wisconsin fares poorly on both counts.
The state’s location on the northern edge of central United States
gives it an unfavorable position for maximum participation in
both national and international chemical commerce. Lake Supe¬
rior on the north and Lake Michigan on the east form significant
water barriers to the movement of people and materials. These
water routes would be of greater value if Central Canada were
an important user of chemicals or if the St. Lawrence Seaway
became a reality. Under the existing circumstances, however,
* Wisconsin holds no advantage not already possessed in more
favorable degree by Michigan, Ohio, and New York.
The prairie states to the west fail to provide either a signifi¬
cant market or an important source of raw materials. To the
south there is a market but not one in which Wisconsin has an
advantage over other central states. We are forced to conclude
that Wisconsin’s geographic position is not one naturally to
stimulate the growth of a chemical industry.
Resources
Chemical industry depends for its success upon the availability
of water, fuel, and suitable raw materials. Wisconsin has water
abundantly available in good quality for chemical operations.
On the other hand, its availability has made it an obvious route
for the disposal of processing wastes with the development of a
serious pollution problem.
Fuel resources have not been abundant in the state. Wisconsin
lacks coal, petroleum, and natural gas, the more obvious indus¬
trial fuels. The one natural fuel source was Wisconsin’s extensive
stand of timber. This was of greater importance as a source of
lumber and pulp, however, and could not serve as an important
fuel resource. Proximity to Great Lakes shipping has prevented
the lack of natural fuel from being a critical one in the develop¬
ment of industry but this has not completely offset the disad¬
vantage of lack of home fuel resources. The state is also suffi¬
ciently rugged that the energy of falling water has been effec¬
tively harnessed as a source of power, thus offsetting in part the
lack of fuel energy.
1955] Ihde & Conners — Chemical Industry in Wisconsin 7
Minerals desirable for a flourishing chemical industry are
sodium chloride, sulfur, and limestone. Salt serves as a source
of alkalies, chlorine, and salt cake, as well as a variety of lesser
chemicals derived from sodium or chlorine. Sulfur is essential in
the production of sulfuric acid, industry’s most important acid.
Limestone serves as a source of inexpensive base, as a flux in
metal smelting, and in a variety of other chemical processes.
Wisconsin has only limestone, which is also abundant in many
other states.
Again we are forced to conclude that Wisconsin is not natur¬
ally endowed for a thriving chemical industry. We must then
expect that developments would be in such directions as would
utilize its more obvious resources, or toward the development of
specialty items not greatly dependent on available resources. Our
study reveals that both directions were followed. In the early
days of Wisconsin’s history its chemical industry was based
largely upon its most important resource, timber. In time there
was a drift toward a chemical industry based on agriculture as
the brewing industry developed. Recent times have seen the
development of specialty produces such as waxes, flavors, dyes,
and pharmaceuticals.
Not only is timber useful for lumber and the various products
fabricated therefrom but is also the starting material for the
production of such chemicals as charcoal, acetic acid, methyl
(wood) alcohol, acetone, and potash. The bark of certain trees,
particularly oak and hemlock, is valued as a source of tannins
for the conversion of skins into leather. Wood provides the sticks
for matches and the cellulose for pulp and paper. Wisconsin’s
early chemical industry evolved primarily from these products.
Early production of chemicals was small in scale and primitive
in technique. Hand labor was aided only by simple and crude
machinery. Operators started and terminated operations on short
notice as supply and market conditions fluctuated. As a result,
records have been hard to trace. It is only possible to indicate
the kind of operations and give a few specific examples.
Potash
Crude potassium carbonate produced from the leachings of
wood ashes must have been a household product connected with
domestic soap-making in early Wisconsin just as it had been in
the Eastern States and in Europe. It was natural, in view of the
abundance of hardwood in the state, that production for sale
should develop early. The operation can be carried out on a small
scale with a minimum of equipment. It requires no skilled labor.
8
Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
® Paper Making Cities
Iron Ore Deposits
Lead and Zinc Region
LOCATION OF CHEMICAL INDUSTRIES IN
WISCONSIN
GCOG DEPT. U o» W
1955] Ihde & Conners — Chemical Industry in Wisconsin 9
Five separate individuals were engaged in commercial potash
production by 1857. 2 They were John Mauel, Ashford; Aaron
Goodenough, Neosho; F. Y. Mansfield, Oak Creek; Heber Smith,
Watertown; and Henry Furguson, Warren. In 1865 factories
were established in Milwaukee by W. Ramaker and G. H. Sorens,
both immigrants from Holland. A third Dutch immigrant, John
B. Hyink, started a Milwaukee factory five years later. All three
producers were flourishing in 1881 when Hyink was using 165
barrels of ashes per day, Sorens had 5 men in his employ, and
Ramaker produced a ton of potash every week. In addition to
local sales the product was marketed in Boston, New York, and
Philadelphia.3 The Eagle Lye Works was founded in Milwaukee
in 1874 for the production of alkalies. In 1883, the firm employed
14 workers, in 1909, it employed 40. 4 Census reports for 1860
reveal that potash was being produced by 31 firms located in 12
counties in the southeastern quarter of the state.
In 1880 nine Wisconsin potash companies were producing
more than one and one half million poinds valued at $94,424.5
This amounted to 41% of total U. S. production. The state was
the major producer of alkali in the nation. This supremacy did
not last long. Decrease in the timber supply was accompanied by
competitive developments in the production of caustic. Foreign
potash from sugar beet waste and from the newly developed
Stassfurt salt deposits was augmented by soda ash produced
cheaply by the old LeBlanc and the new Solvay process. Soon
thereafter the electrolytic process for the production of caustic
soda provided ample supplies of strong alkali. The demand for
Wisconsin potash fell to practically nothing by 1890 though a
few individuals continued to produce it for local soap factories.
Wisconsin never became an important producer of the sodium
alkalies which are produced from rock salt. The supplies of rock
salt in the Ohio-New York basin are near Niagara Falls where
cheap electric power makes a particularly favorable situation for
production of caustic. The Eagle Lye Company continued to do
business in Milwaukee but as a distributor rather than as a pri-
2 “Wisconsin State Directory of 1857 and 8”, Strickland Co., Milwaukee, 1858,
p. 14 and 273.
3 Flower, Frank A., “History of Milwaukee”, Western Historical Co., Chicago,
1881, p. 1517.
4 Wisconsin Bur. Labor and Industrial Statistics, Biennial Kept 1884, p. 191:
1911, p. 665.
5 Rowland, W. L., “Report on the Manufacture of Chemical Products and Salt”,
p. 20-1. A part of the Rept. on the Manufactures of the United States at the 10th
Census, 1880, folio pp. 1010-11. Other important producing states were Michigan,
New York, Ohio, Maine, Indiana, and Minnesota.
1 0 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
mary producer. It became a part of the Pennsylvania Salt Manu¬
facturing Company in 1926.°
Soap
A large amount of Wisconsin potash found its way into soap,
but since soap manufacture is such a simple chemical operation
it is difficult to trace the development with any accuracy. Soap
making was a household operation in the nineteenth century Wis¬
consin, as it continues to be in some rural households in Wiscon¬
sin even today.
In the urban centers, commercial soap manufacture achieved
some importance. In Milwaukee, for instance, Flower found four
flourishing establishments in 1880.6 7 The oldest, that of F. Tren-
kamp, had been established in 1848. Weekly production had risen
from 1000 pounds in the first year to 30,000 pounds in 1880.
Frederick Wackerow’s factory had been established in 1856 by
John Langdon. Gross Brothers, established in 1867, was produc¬
ing 125,000 pounds per week in 1880. This level of production
was exceeded by the youngest firm, that of Ricker, McCullough
and Dixon, established in 1873, with a production of 173,000
pounds per week. Most of the soap manufacturers were German
immigrants who found in Milwaukee a good source of alkali and,
as a result of the rapidly developing meat packing industry, a
good source of fats.
Matches
Milwaukee was the site of the first match factory to be estab¬
lished in the west. Its founder, R. W. Pierce, came from Massa¬
chusetts in 1844, bringing the necessary chemical supplies with
him. Wood for matchsticks was both abundant and inexpensive
in Wisconsin. The first matches were produced in the upper story
of a dwelling house. Three employees produced $900 worth of
matches during the first year, but Pierce sustained a net loss of
$300. Despite the loss, Pierce expanded into a small factory build¬
ing during the next year. The enterprise grew and “Superior
Percussion Matches” found a ready market as far east as Cleve¬
land and as far south as New Orleans. When Pierce sold his in¬
terest in 1860, the factory was employing 30 persons. Subsequent
owners failed to carry on successful operations and, after chang¬
ing hands several times, the business was abandoned.8
6 Haynes, W., Ed., “American Chemical Industry’’, D. Van Nostrand Co., New
York, 1D41>, vol. 6, p. 332.
7 Ref. 3, p. 1226.
8 See ref. 3, page 1509.
1955] Ihde & Conners — Chemical Industry in Wisconsin
11
The Diamond Match Company began operations in Oshkosh in
1881. Within four years it was employing 175 people. By 1907,
570 employees were listed. Another factory, operated by the
Oshkosh Match Company was in operation by 1885.
Working conditions in these early match factories left much
to be desired. This was still the day of the white phosphorus
match. Match manufacture was dangerous, not only because of
the fire hazard, but because of the poisonous effects of the phos¬
phorus fumes which led to necrosis of the jaw. The Commis¬
sioner of Labor and Industry was prompted to speak out in
1886 :9
I want to say a few words in regard to the conditions of
these match factories generally, but more particularily of
the dipping rooms. To ameliorate the condition of the people
at work in those rooms would be an act of charity. Imagine
being in a closed room, the atmosphere of which is con¬
stantly contaminated with the fumes of the chemicals used,
especially those of phosphorus, which act directly on the
bone, and you have the case as I saw it. Found an attempt
had been made to purify the air by the aid of suction fans ;
but the effort seems to be futile, as the rooms were filled
with foul odors, the conducting pipes not being large
enough, and the fans lacking the requisite power.
I expostulated to some extent with the proprietors and
suggested some changes; but as a matter of course they
would entail some expense, I left without expecting to see
the changes made. But at whatever cost, the working people
should be provided with pure air, which the Creator of all
things ordained.
In 1891 it was necessary for the commissioner to order the
discharge of four girls under fourteen, but health and safety
conditions had markedly improved. The task of dipping matches
had been taken over by machines, ventilating fans were in oper¬
ation, and automatic sprinkers had been installed on all floors.10
It was not until 1913, however, that the white phosphorus match
was taxed out of existence in the United States. At that time, the
manufacture of this highly poisonous type of match was dropped
in favor of the more costly but safer phosphorus sesquisulfide
match.
Wax
The processing of wax was initiated in Wisconsin as an out¬
growth of the wood industry. The S. C. Johnson Company was
9 Flower, Frank A., Bureau of Labor and Industrial Statistics, Biennial Rept.,
1885-1886, Madison, 1886, p. 501-2.
10 Dobbs, J., ibid, 1892, p. 91 a.
12 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
founded in 1886 for the manufacture of parquet flooring. The
business took an unexpected turn when builders and home-
owners began asking how to keep floors in good condition. Wax
was recommended since Samuel Curtis Johnson knew that par¬
quet floors in Europe had stood the wear of centuries with only
wax treatment. The company began the sale of floor wax and
similar products. By 1898, the dollar sales of wax and allied
materials exceeded those of flooring. In 1916, the sale of flooring
was discontinued entirely with the company concentrating on
wax products and expanding into a world market.11
Tanning
It was natural that Wisconsin should develop a strong tanning
industry. The hemlock forests provided an abundant source of
tanbark. The lesser oak forests provided an additional source of
tanning materials. The growing emphasis on livestock as Wis¬
consin became transformed from a wheat-growing state to one
putting emphasis on diversified agriculture, in particular meat
production and dairying, brought about a fortunate proximity
of hides and tanning materials.
By 1880, Milwaukee had become an important tanning center
with at least eight tanneries in operation. Several of these estab¬
lishments traced their origins back to midcentury. The Wiscon¬
sin Leather Company had its origins in an enterprise started in
Cazenovia, New York, in 1809. As the New York supply of tan¬
bark became depleted, action was taken to obtain new supplies
to the westward. A tannery was opened in Two Rivers, in the
heart of the hemlock12 region of Wisconsin, in 1850. A second
tannery was built in the same city in 1861. In 1870, the Mil¬
waukee tannery was opened in order to be near the source of
hides from the local meat-packing establishments. In 1880, the
company was tanning 175,000 hides, worth about $600,000.
The Pfister and Vogel Leather Company was formed in 1857
through the merger of two small tanneries which had been oper¬
ating since 1847. In 1880, it was tanning around 100,000 hides.
The Kinnickinnic Tannery was established in 1849. The Herman
11 “This Company of Ours”, S. C. Johnson and Co., Racine, 1949, and personal
correspondence.
12 See R. H. Zinn in J. G. Glover and W. B. C. Cornell, Eds., “The Development
of American Industries”, revised edn., Prentice-Hall, New York, 1941, p. 272—3.
However, we are unable to confirm the statement of the author that the use of
hemlock bark stems from the researches of Humphrey Davy. Neither Davy’s re¬
search paper on tanning- materials, Phil. Trans. Royal Soc. (London), 9,‘i, 233—73
(1803), or his general remarks on tanning in his lectures, see the “Collected Works”
:t, 287, 416 (1839), give any indication that he studied hemlock bark.
1955] Ihde & Conners — Chemical Industry in Wisconsin 13
Zohrlant Leather Company dated from 1857. Trostel and Gallim
was started a year later.13
Besides these Milwaukee companies, there were tanneries
scattered around the state. Manitowoc and Fond du Lac were
natural tanning centers due to their proximity to the hemlock
forests. The census reports of 1880 indicated 73 producers of
tanned leather in the state.14 All of these establishments were
founded mainly because of the availability of tanning materials.
By the time the hemlock bark was exhausted they were well
established in a center where hides were easily available. Im¬
provements in transportation no longer made proximity to tan-
bark as crucial as had been the case at midcentury.
Pulp and Paper
The first Wisconsin paper was manufactured in Milwaukee by
Ludington and Garand in 1848. Within the next two decades
paper was also being produced in Appleton (1853), Waterford
(1853), Beloit (1855), Whitewater (1857), and Neenah (1865).
These mills were not engaging in chemical operations, however.
Their source of cellulose was rags (straw in the first Beloit and
Whitewater mills) and the process used was like that used by
other American manufacturers. The demand for paper was
growing and the supply of rags was short so an active explora¬
tion for substitutes was in progress.
Wood was an obvious source of cellulose but practical success
in the conversion of wood into paper was not achieved until 1840
when Friedrich Gottlob Keller and Henry Voelter, in Germany,
developed a successful woodgrinder. Wood was reduced to a pulp
by forcing it against a grindstone cooled with water. The process,
successfully operated in Europe from 1854, was introduced into
the United States in 1867. In 1872, Colonel Henry A. Frambach
introduced it into Wisconsin when he built the Eagle Mill on the
Fox River at Kaukauna.15
Groundwood pulp did not supplant rag pulp but was added to
it as an extender. It did make available a larger paper supply at
a time when demands were steadily increasing. The best grades
of paper continued to be made of pure rag pulp.
In spite of the popularity of rag paper, the availability of
pulpwood in Wisconsin stimulated the growth of the groundwood
33 Ref. 3, p. 1438.
14 “Rept. on the Statistics of Manufactures of the U. S.”, 18S0, p. 191.
15 Brice, C. W. in ref. 10, p. 128. Also see L. H. Weeks, “A History of Paper
Manufacturing in the United States, 1690-1916”, Lockwood Trade Journal Co., New
York, 1916, p. 234, and Francis F. Bowman, Jr., “Ninety-two Years of Industrial
Progress”, 1940, p. 10. This booklet under the cover title of “Paper in Wisconsin”,
was distributed by the Marathon Paper Mills Co., Menasha, Wisconsin.
14 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
process. By 1882, eighteen such mills were in operation on the
lower Fox River at Neenah, Menasha, Appleton, and Kaukauna.
As the forests of east-central Wisconsin became depleted, the
pulp industry began to spread westward into the valleys of the
Wisconsin and Chippewa Rivers. Such names as Kimberly, Clark,
Gilbert, and Whiting were rising to prominence in the industry.
A number of the mills were established on the water-power sites
of flour mills which abandoned operations when Wisconsin lost
its wheat-growing status to the more westerly prairie states.
Concurrent with this, the development of the roller process for
flour milling with necessarily high capital investments forced the
demise of local stone-operated flour mills such as those which
dotted the lower Fox River. Between 1880 and 1925, flour mill¬
ing slipped from first place as a source of Wisconsin industrial
income to twenty-first. During the same period, pulp and paper
manufacture rose from eighteenth place to fourth.16
During this time, the pulp industry was turning toward chem¬
ical operations for the purification of wood fiber. The soda
process, which began coming into use in England after mid¬
century, never figured prominently in the Wisconsin industry.
The sulfite process, on the other hand, rose to real importance.
The basis for the sulfite process was laid in Philadelphia by
Benjamin C. Tilgham soon after the Civil War. He observed that
sulfurous acid dissolved the lignin portion of wood, leaving the
cellulose fibers available for pulping. His research was developed
into a practical process by Swedish and German investigators
and placed in operation in the late seventies.
The process was brought into Wisconsin in 1887 by the Atlas
Paper Company at Appleton, and the Appleton Pulp and Paper
Company at Monico Junction. The superior quality of sulfite
paper over that made from groundwood created a ready market
for the product and in turn stimulated the expansion of the
process. The paper industry in Wisconsin had become a chemical
process industry.
Charcoal and Metal Smelting
The destructive distillation of wood, more commonly called
“charcoal burning”, was a simple process commonly carried out
where hardwood was abundant. Wisconsin’s forests contributed
to the production of this form of carbon. The charcoal was pre¬
pared largely for local use, partly as fuel, partly in connection
with the smelting of metallic ores. Production rose and fell with
the rise and fall of the state’s mining activities.
16 Alexander, J. H. H., “A Short Industrial History of Wisconsin”, Wisconsin
Blue Book, Madison, 1J)21>, p. 34-44.
1955] Ihde & Conners— Chemical Industry in Wisconsin
15
Lead . The galena deposits in the region where the present
boundaries of Wisconsin, Illinois, and Iowa join were exploited
for their lead ever since the seventeenth century when the
French explorers and traders taught the Indians to smelt the
ore.17 The soft metal with its low melting point quickly assumed
importance among the Indians as a source of bullets for the
hunting of fur-bearing animals and as an item of trade. Mining
operations by white men were carried out only sporadically up
Figure 1. Shot Tower Buildings at Helena (facsimile of sketch by John
Wilson, made July, 1836).
to the third decade of the nineteenth century at which time a
vigorous mining boom occurred. In 1828 production of the metal
was 12,000,000 pounds. Troubles with the Indians caused some
fluctuation in mining activities but these troubles were ended in
1832 with the termination of the Black Hawk War. Cornish
miners began to enter the region in large numbers from 1835.18
The metal moved out of the region by water, south on the Wis¬
consin and Mississippi Rivers to St. Louis, north on the Wiscon-
17 Kellogg, L. P., “The French Regime in Wisconsin and the Early Northwest”,
State Hist. Soc., Madison, 1925, p. 359-63.
18 Schafer, J., “The Wisconsin Lead Region”, State Hist. Soc., Madison 1932, p.
21 ff. R. G. Thwaites, "Notes on Early Lead Mining in the Fever River Region”,
Wis. Hist. Colls., 13, 271-92 (1895). W. F. Raney, "Wisconsin, A Story of Progress”,
Prentice-Hall, New York, 1940, p. 89-91.
16 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
sin and Fox Rivers to Green Bay from where it was shipped
eastward on the Great Lakes. Milwaukee became a similar port
for the shipment of lead after suitable roads and railroads had
been built. Bullets and shot were the main products made from
lead although the manufacture of white lead for paint was
started in 1841 at Buffalo, New York.19
Shot was even manufactured in Wisconsin following the con¬
struction of a shot-tower at Helena.20 Daniel Whitney, a Green
Bay merchant, initiated construction of the tower in 1831 on a
cliff overlooking Pipe Creek, a tiny tributary of the Wisconsin
River. A vertical shaft was dug through the soft sandstone for
a depth of 120 feet and connected to the stream bank by a hori¬
zontal tunnel 90 feet long. The molten lead, alloyed with a trace
of arsenic, was prepared in a melting house at the top of the cliff
and poured through a sieve into a wooden enclosure, or tower,
which connected to the top of the vertical hole (Fig. 1). The
drops of lead fell a total distance of 180 feet, twirling and solidi¬
fying as they fell and finally landing in a pit of water at the
bottom of the shaft. Here they were collected, removed, sorted,
and prepared for shipment. Shot was produced here until the
decline of lead mining in the fifties.
The lead mines drew heavily upon nearby forests for the wood
used in smelting the ore. The depletion of the mines after a
quarter century coincided with the depletion of local wood re¬
sources and the discovery of more important lead ores in states
to the westward. The miners turned to full-time farming on the
cleared lands or, if mining was permanently ingrained in their
system, joined the copper boom in the Lake Superior region or
the gold rush to California. Some lead continued to be produced
in southwestern Wisconsin but it was marginal production. Oper¬
ations rose and fell with the price of lead. Wisconsin never again
became the leading producer it had been in the forties.
Zinc. Interest in the zinc ores associated with the galena of
the region did not develop until 1860. Up until that time, the
smithsonite (ZnC03, called “drybone” by the miners because of
its resemblance to partially decayed bones) had been discarded
as not worth smelting. In 1860 some 160 tons were successfully
smelted. Production of smithsonite and the deeper-lying zinc
blende (ZnS, called “blackjack” by the miners) increased rap¬
idly as a zinc boom hit the region. Charcoal did not figure in zinc
smelting, however, since coal was shipped in from Illinois or,
19 Libby, O. G.. “Significance of the Lead and Shot Trade in Early Wisconsin
History”, Wis. Hist. Colls., 13, 319 (1895).
20 Libby, O. G., “Chronicle of the Helena Shot-Tower”, ibid, p. 335-74. The shaft
find tunnel can still be seen in Shot-Tower State Park near Spring Green.
1955] Ihde & Conners — Chemical Industry in Wisconsin 17
more commonly, the zinc ore was shipped by rail to central Illi¬
nois for smelting near the coalfields.21
Copper. Wisconsin charcoal never played an important role in
the smelting of copper, though there were sporadic efforts at
production of the metal. Wisconsin copper discoveries always
proved to be a part of the glacial drift brought in from the Lake
Superior region so Wisconsin never had a copper boom such as
hit the Keweenaw Peninsula of Upper Michigan in the forties.
Since the Michigan deposits represented native copper, the
smelting problem was never more than one of melting the metal
to separate it from contaminating rocks. When charcoal was
used, it was obtained from nearby forests and used primarily as
a fuel rather than as a reducing agent.22
Iron. Charcoal needs at midcentury shifted to the eastern part
of the state with the development of iron smelting in the Iron
Ridge Region and soon thereafter in Milwaukee County. A char¬
coal furnace was in operation at Mayville in 1849.23 The charcoal
was produced locally. This furnace, or another at Mayville (built
in 1858) was operated by the Northwestern Iron Company, the
owners of the Mishawaka furnace in Indiana.24
In 1857, two more charcoal furnaces were put into operation.
The one near Black River Falls was operated for only a short
period by a company of German immigrants. The Ironton fur¬
nace was built by Jonas Tower to produce iron for castings. It
had a capacity of three tons of iron per day, using ore mined in
the nearby Baraboo Range. Another charcoal furnace was built
in 1865 at Iron Ridge, near Mayville, by the Wisconsin Iron
Company, operating out of Milwaukee.
The next decade saw a vigorous development of iron smelting
in Wisconsin. Seven charcoal furnaces were put to blast in the
lower Fox River valley during the years 1869-72. These furnaces
were located where they could benefit from lake transport of
ores from the Marquette Range which was being opened at that
time in the Michigan peninsula. Hardwood forests in the coun¬
ties adjacent to the Fox River provided the charcoal supply.
Milwaukee also began to develop as an iron working center.
Two furnaces were put into operation by the Milwaukee Iron
Company in 1870 and 1871. Another was built for the Minerva
Iron Company in 1878. All three furnaces utilized Lake Superior
21Merk, F., “Economic History of Wisconsin During- the Civil War Decade”, Wis.
Hist. Soc., (Madison, 1916, p. 114—5.
22 Ibid, p. 120-21.
23 Raney, ref. 18, p. 335.
24 Swank, J. M., “Statistics of the Iron and Steel Production of the United States”,
in Census of Manufactures of the U. S ., 1880, p. 109 (folio p. 845).
18 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
ores. None of them used charcoal as a fuel but utilized anthracite
coal and coke brought in by lake boats.25
In 1880 there were 14 furnaces in the state. Eleven of these
still utilized charcoal but the three Milwaukee furnaces operated
on mineral fuel. From this point, the use of charcoal in iron
smelting went into rapid decline. The combination of a rapidly
dwindling supply of timber for charcoal and the competition of
Lake Superior ores proved deadly for the operators in the cen¬
tral portions of the state. The opening of the Menominee Range
in Michigan (and Florence County, Wisconsin) in the early
seventies provided a rich ore low in phosphorus against which
the low grade central Wisconsin ores could not compete.20
Although the furnaces in the Iron Ridge region continued in
operation for some time, the center of Wisconsin’s iron smelting
moved to Milwaukee where lake transportation brought in coke
from the Indiana-Illinois fields and rich ore from the Menominee
Range. Wisconsin continued to figure in ore production with the
opening in 1883 of the Gogebic Range on the Wisconsin-
Michigan border near Ashland.
The thriving foundry operations in Wisconsin, based at first
on flour mill and saw mill machinery, grew with the rapid de¬
velopment of agricultural machinery which was taking place at
the time. As the milling of flour gave way to the sawing of
lumber, which in turn gave way to agriculture, the need for cast¬
ings and forgings grew. The rising paper industry also began to
absorb products of the iron-working factories and the rapid
expansion of the railroads during the period made another large
demand. During the decade between 1870 and 1880, Wisconsin
rose in iron production from twelfth place among the states to
sixth. After this time, the state, while showing continued growth
in tonnage of iron produced, lost ground relatively and slipped
to eighth position by 1890. 27 By this time, nearly all of the old
charcoal furnaces in the state had been abandoned, though a
large charcoal furnace, 60 feet high and 12 feet in diameter at
the boshes, was placed in operation at Ashland as late as 1888.
This furnace, called “Hinkle”, had the best production record of
any charcoal furnace in the United States.28 As long as it could
draw upon the nearby Gogebic ores and charcoal from nearby
forests its operation was a profitable one.
25 Ibid .
26 Usher, Ellis B., “Nelson Powell Hulst, the Greatest American Authority on
Iron’’, Wis. Mag. Hist., 1, 385-405 (1924).
27 Swank, J. M., History of the Manufacture of Iron in All Ages., American Iron
and Steel Association, Philadelphia, 2nd. edn., 1892, p. 331.
28 Ibid., p. 330.
1955] Ihde & Conners— Chemical Industry in Wisconsin 19
An indication of the drain on forest resources by charcoal fur¬
naces is given by Billinger.29 His remarks refer to Pennsylvania
furnaces of an earlier day but it is probable that Wisconsin fur¬
naces were at least equivalent in their charcoal demand. One
furnace required 800 bushels of charcoal every 24 hours. This
could be supplied from 20 cords of wood, the average cut from
an acre of woodland.
Maple Syrup and Sugar
These saccharine products of maple sap are typically Amer¬
ican. The natural abundance of maple trees in Wisconsin resulted
in widespread production of both syrup and sugar from the
earliest days of the region. Whether or not the Indians were pro¬
ducing maple sugar when the white man came to North America
is still a moot question. The best evidence leads to the assump¬
tion that the Indians were using maple sap but were taught the
art of converting it into sugar by the French. In any case maple
sugar became an important item of trade between the French
and Indians.
When white settlers populated the region in the nineteenth
century, maple syrup and sugar production became a part of
their springtime activities in those sections where maple groves
flourished. Production was mostly on a small scale by individual
families and has largely continued so even to the present day.
The operations of boiling, clarification with eggs or lime, and
crystallization are little changed from the techniques used by the
Indians.30
Conclusion
As a result of our survey of the early development of chemical
industry in Wisconsin we must conclude that the industry was
timber-based. The types of products and processes were the re¬
sult of Wisconsin’s primary resource. Had Wisconsin been a
prairie state, instead of being heavily forested, its chemical in¬
dustry could not have shown the development it did. Even the
lead and iron industries, which at first glance appear unrelated
to wood resources, could not easily have developed commercially
in Wisconsin had there been no available charcoal for smelting.
By the time that charcoal resources were depleted, the iron-
29 J. Chem. Educ.} 30, 359 (1953).
30 The literature on early maple sugar and syrup production is assembled in
“Maple Sugar : A Bibliography of Early Records”, Part I., by H. A. Schuette and
Sybil C. Schuette in Trans. Wis . Acad. ScL, ' 29, 209-236 (1935), Part II by H. A.
Schuette and A. J. Ihde in ibid., 3S, 89-184 (1946).
20 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
working industry of the state was sufficiently well established to
maintain itself on imported ore and coal brought in by lake boats.
It is true that certain industries, such as brickmaking,31 earth¬
enware, lime, and cement, which formed a part of the chemical
industry of early Wisconsin can hardly be associated with tim¬
ber unless one considers the fuel needs in the preparation of the
products. They developed locally due to the presence of such
minerals as clay and limestone, as they did in many other states.
Hence, they can hardly be considered typical Wisconsin indus¬
tries as can potash, tanning or pulp and paper.
Depletion of timber resources resulted in considerable shifting
of emphasis, primarily toward industries based upon the agricul¬
tural pursuits which grew up following the clearing of the land.
The rise of the dairy industry from 16th position in 1880 to first
position in value of products by 1920 was paralleled by the de¬
velopment of such companies as the Marschall Dairy Laboratory
in Madison and Chris Hansen’s Laboratory in Milwaukee. These
companies supplied testing materials, cheesemaking enzymes,
and bacterial cultures to the vigorously growing industry. The
fermentation industry too, which grew in importance in Wis¬
consin following the immigration of German brewers after mid¬
century, is agriculture based. Timber-based industry, represent¬
ing the first stage of Wisconsin’s chemical industry, was giving-
way to a new phase at the turn of the century.
Acknowledgement
We wish to express our appreciation to Professor Arthur H.
Robinson and Mr. Randall D. Sale of the University of Wisconsin
Geography Department for the preparation of the map of Wis¬
consin’s chemical industry.
31 Milwaukee was nicknamed the “cream city” at one time because of the many
cream-colored buildings constructed of bricks made of the light-colored clay in the
region.
A SHORT WAY AROUND EMERSON’S NATURE
William L. Hedges
Department of English , University of Wisconsin
This paper examines the possible usefulness in interpreting
Emerson of approaching his concept of “nature” from a more
traditional, particularly neo-classical, point of view rather than
from what are generally taken to be the primary romantic sig¬
nificances. Not that nature as sublime landscape, mother earth,
and the universe itself is by any means done away with, but an
attempt is made to see these ideas as conformable to earlier
notions of regularity, law, and reason. Though we cannot claim
that considering him momentarily as an adjunct of the eight¬
eenth century and apostle of common sense makes Emerson’s
work absolutely clear, it does seem to enable us to rationalize
some of the contradictions which have bothered critics.
To scholars who have worked on the XVIII-XIX century
transition the obligations of this essay, though they can hardly
be specified, are obviously manifold. References to Emerson’s
writings carry the number of the volume in which they appear
in The Complete Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson , Centenary
Edition, 12 vols. ( Boston [, 1903-04]).
Distinctions in Emerson are in name only. With everything
the same-— there being no voids in nature — dt is almost impos¬
sible for him to be specific, to put a finger on something definite.
For what is touched on, because it can’t exist in a vacuum,
touches something else, fits it, and thus in a way is like it, sug¬
gests it, and means it. The suggestions multiply indefinitely, and
entities soon lose their identities becoming related parts of one
great relation. Talking about one thing is almost immediately
by extension, implication, or analogy, commentary on something
else: if “it is the fault of our rhetoric that we cannot strongly
state once fact without seeming to belie some other” (“History,”
II, p. 39), it is equally difficult to say one thing without affirm¬
ing another. For a word which begins by pointing out one —
one anything — -will not stop vibrating until it implicates others,
every last other that bears a resemblance to what was originally
intended. One could try to be specific for the sake of an argu¬
ment, but Emerson abandons the attempt before starting, seem¬
ing to feel that he may mean more by being general.
21
22 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Voh 44
He begins his first important book practically saying it will
make little difference if he fails to distinguish between two
senses of its one-word title {Nature, I, pp. 4-5), and whoever
objects at the outset might be asked to explain where “nature”
stops and “Nature” begins. Emerson offers two possible mean¬
ings, but they are only for beginners, to set them in a context.
In effect he is refusing to define his terms, as though he might
mean almost anything before he finishes. He is, definitively,
impersonal: his more refined nature is the “NOT ME,” that is
everything except the soul ; or, to begin with common usage, it is
landscape (approximately) unaffected by man. Shortly, however,
he suggests that the “greatest delight” in the ministry of “fields
and woods” is produced not by nature, but by man, or by the
“harmony of both” {Nature, I, pp. 10-1). What Emerson finds
significant is that so far as man knows it, nature is inevitably in
contact with man. Its own “nature” is its effect on man, or, per¬
haps, man’s effect on it.
Nature is first that “Commodity” of which experience is built,
anything that serves purposes, everything that nourishes and
knits body and soul together. It is the material out of which are
raised “Beauty,” “Language,” and “Discipline” {Nature, chs. ii-
v). And, directing experience, it points to something beyond: its
“aspect” is “devout” ; it “always speaks of Spirit” and “wears”
its “colors” {Nature, I, pp. 61, 11).
Emerson’s subject is not “Nature” as such (whatever that is),
but man naturalized, or, at best, nature spiritualized. He tells
us not what nature is, but what it means. And the metaphors it
involves him in betray the qualities he finds in it. The assertion
elsewhere, “Nature, who made the mason, made the house”
(“Nature,” III, p. 183), takes in beauty, discipline, and spirit in
one mouthful, like Pope’s “All Nature is but Art” {Essay on
Man, i, 1. 289). Emerson’s nature then not only speaks but is a
master-builder. It gives shape, it forms and formulates. It is the
model of beauty, the meaning in words, the pattern on which
practice is fashioned. It is both the plan and the planning and
the substance put into new molds. Nature is what is shaping up
or reshaping ; it is apparently what enlightens man’s experience,
the enlightenment itself — intelligence — in any form.
“Idealism” {Nature, ch. vi) suggests that in one sense nature
is man thinking, the rationality of man— which is appropriate
since traditionally reason has been man’s own nature. The nature
of something is of course the law according to which it operates,
the rule which we believe it follows. Thus nature itself may mean
law, regularity. Its most basic sense is essence — despite the cur-
f
1955] Hedges — Emerson’s Nature 23
rent tendency to think of it first and foremost as existence. And
temporarily Emerson is linked with the eighteenth century
rather than struck off from it. Nature is order and “appears to
us one with art" (“Art," II, p. 358). The law of nature and nat¬
ural law are redundancies. If the nature of man is his rationality,
then the law of reason is inevitably natural. And the capitalized
faculty remains in Emerson's psychology Reason. The reasonable
is the natural, the natural is what is expected.
The landscape then, being only one aspect of nature, is per¬
haps not even that which has lent its name to the whole. What
is the whole? It must be whatever is natural — whatever puts
man's experience into shape, gives it meaning, explains it, jus¬
tifies it, and thus makes it what it seems to be — whatever is- —
life or experience as it is . This whole nature must be the whole :
nature “suggests the absolute" ( Nature , I, p. 61), and in sug¬
gesting it, for Emerson's purposes, becomes it. As Pope had pre¬
viously suggested, “All are but parts of one stupendous whole,/
Whose body Nature is, and God the soul" ( Essay on Man , i, 11.
267-8). Nature by starting as the form in which experience or
its expression is cast, becomes that experience and/or expres¬
sion. Emerson tells us in the full circle of his Reasoning what
would be, if directly stated, the truism, his life is determined by
his life. It (and all other lives, which he knows through his own)
he calls “nature."
Would one say that whatever is roomy is a “room"? Perhaps
not, but one could, though the metaphor becomes involved. The
extended meaning of the noun is dependent on the meaning of
the adjective, which in turn largely depends on a more specific
designation of “room." But Emerson, equally wrapped up in his
subject and more concerned with qualities than with things
themselves, appears to call whatever is natural “nature."
The meanings reverberate then, grow by bounds, and leap to
“whatever is, is" natural, which is according to reason, and thus
practically “right." Looked at properly (that is, if you can get
yourself to see him in this way) Emerson is a parody of Pope,
parody by virtual reduction to absurdity.
What is always seems appropriate and meaningful when jux¬
taposed to the immediate past. Since it “follows," from what was,
it makes sense, functions regularly, proceeds logically and irre¬
vocably, is unified and rational. The natural being the expected,,
once the present has arrived, no matter what surprises it has
caught us in, we soon get used to it, soon find an excuse for it.
Emerson might change only one word in Pope's dictum: from
whatever “is," to what “happens," is right. For nature, or what
24 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
is natural, is not standing fast according to laws, it is moving
faster, changing shape before our eyes, changed before we are
sure what it is all about into history. “What we call nature is a
certain self-regulated motion or change’’ (“The Poet/’ III, p. 22) .
Or it is “a mutable cloud . . . always and never the same.” It
“casts the same thought into troops of forms, as a poet makes
twenty fables with one moral” (“History,” II, p. 13).
If we search long enough, we find always and everywhere
order, logic, reason. Nothing in experience seems extraneous,
unlike or unrelated to anything else. “The identity of history is
. . . intrinsic, the diversity equally obvious. There is, at the sur¬
face, infinite variety of things; at the centre there is simplicity
of cause” (“History,” II, p. 14). We can rationalize (find reason
for) any event, we can inevitably find some other event with
which to compare or contrast it. In the lump sum of experience,
there is nothing entirely unexpected, nothing we should not have
expected. “Nature is an endless combination and repetition of a
very few laws” (“History,” II, p. 15) . Even the law of the jungle
is natural, and, once recognized, it ceases to be wild. The bru¬
tality and fear remain. But that dog eat dog or that through the
chain of being species prey upon species is simply part of that
“nature of things,” accommodation or “abandonment” to which
is the obligation of “the intellect” (“The Poet,” III, pp. 26-7).
Out of the indicative present — whatever is — we formulate a
conditional ought-to-be as a means of abandoning ourselves to
what is to come. Looking ahead through continuous change we
have no guarantee that our predictions will be satisfied or that
our particular scheme of things will be amenable to all possi¬
bilities. We simply believe certain laws ought to be obeyed. True,
the ambiguity of “ought” suggests further complications in
nature; there is more than one tense, or sense, to the expected.
A government seems natural when it is well suited to the envi¬
ronment and the temperament of a people, and then the exhorta¬
tion is for that people to adhere to their given constitution —
which seems to mean that they must try to keep on being what
they can’t help being already. A state of nature may be things
as they are or ideal conditions toward which enlightened men
strive. But eventually it is possible to identify moral law and
physical law— for both are what-we-expect. Thus Emerson as
well as the eighteenth century speaks of both as laws of nature.
Is all this tantamount to saying that everything conceivable is
natural? Well, Emerson certainly means that all our conceptions
are founded in nature, everything conceived, everything formu¬
lated, realized, rationalized, all our hopes and fears. And beyond
1955]
Hedges— -Emerson’s Nature
25
that, whether there is a conceivable which is not conceived is
perhaps a meaningless question.
“The world exists for the education of each man” (“History,”
II, p. 8). Read “nature” for “world.” Read “history” for
“nature.” Read “past experience” for “history.” Then past ex¬
perience “exists for the education of each man.” Each man's life
is based on (his) life, and following Emerson we complete
circles of our own.
Emerson's nature is now close to being the world each one of
us is forced to live with and believe in, the world of common
sense. Earlier it seemed to be the sense that is made out of this
world. But this is no contradiction : we merely have two ways of
saying the same thing — as he tries to explain in “Idealism” and
“Spirit” ( Nature , chs. vi, vii) : “nature” and our conception of
the nature of things are names derived from two different ways
of considering what is identical — our experience. Emerson has
perhaps made the sense of this world somewhat less common and
more individual by granting each person the privilege of inter¬
preting it for himself. But he tolerates such varied attitudes
from a realization that “the sailor, the shepherd, the miner, the
merchant, in their several resorts, have each an experience pre¬
cisely parallel, and leading to the same conclusion.” The reason
why all men, though they spell it out in different gestures, go
through the same “experience,” is that it is Emerson’s nature.
Thus, he says, “the likeness in them is more than the difference,
and their radical law is one and the same” ( Nature , I, pp. 42,
44). There remains a “common” sense — a world of it.
Nor from Emerson's point of view can this world be entirely
different from the eighteenth century's. Even the Reason of
common sense sooner or later contradicts itself, or, too strongly
stating one side, seems “to belie some other.” Thus common
sense always distrusts systems and refuses to believe that well-
trained minds discover a brand of reality not encountered (and
thus not liable to proof or prosecution) in ordinary living. Com¬
mon sense accepts a dogma, not as long as it is logical, but as
long as it is useful in some fashion.
Emerson too is anti-intellectual, in the sense of being unsys¬
tematic, of belittling “foolish consistency,” of being eclectic, of
refusing to accept one set of ideas to the exclusion of every other,
of trying to see around nature from as many points of view as
possible. After all, the supposed reaction against eighteenth-
century thought occurred partly in such standard neo-classical
terms as “law” and “Reason.” Emerson's own “Reason” he will¬
ingly equates, at least for a useful moment, with one of the fac-
26 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
ulties of the eighteenth century: “The common sense of Frank¬
lin, Dalton, Davy and Black, is the same common sense which
made the arrangements which it now discovers” (“Nature,” III,
pp. 183-4). Common sense is only nature finding itself, as, a few
lines before, when nature was the mason and the house, nature
was building itself — Unatura naturans ” (“Nature,” III, p. 179).
And Emerson even tries to put some life into that “famous
aboriginal push” without discarding the mechanistic universe
which proper romantics are supposed so to despise. As he says,
the push “propagates itself through all the balls of the system,
and through every atom of every ball; through all the races of
creatures, and through the history and performances of every
individual” (“Nature,” III, p. 184). Intellectual history is an
appreciation of mixed metaphor.
The world of common sense does not make good sense. Since
philosophical systems do not explain a universe of infinite sides,
shades, and shapes, the wise man passes beyond philosophy to
poetry and prophecy, and the common man acts without stopping
to think. What confuses us is the paradox that nature is “always
and never the same.” It is always the same because contained
within our one experience : every part of nature is a part of that
experience: and all parts of the whole are ultimately related,
have something in common, are practically the same. Yet com¬
mon sense tells us there is a difference. Although we accept what
is as inevitable, we expect a change; although we know our
present to be determined by its relation to past experience, we
believe we can steer our life along a new course. Whether we
profit by the lessons of history or fail to do so, our denouement
is equally natural or logical. Or in the last analysis, it is equally
unnatural or inexplicable. “We live in a system of approxima¬
tions. Every end is prospective of some other end, which is also
temporary; a round and final success nowhere. . . . Our music,
our poetry, our language itself are not satisfactions, but sugges¬
tions” (“Nature,” III, p. 190).
Our logic then is only an instrument of common sense, useful
in describing things from various points of view. The truth itself
is always the same. Once we accept “whatever is” as right, or
natural, the next epistle must begin as Pope’s, “Know then thy¬
self” : it is a presumption to scan God : self-reliance is “the
proper study of Mankind.” And this “Man” of Pope’s is no dif¬
ferent from Emerson’s nature: “The glory, jest, and riddle of
the world” (Essay on Man, ii, 11. 1, 2^ 18). Telling us that our
life is what we make of it at the same time that it is being made
1955]
Hedges — Emerson's Nature
27
for us, Emerson says nothing- essentially different from the
eighteenth century before him, or from pragmatists and existen¬
tialists since. His importance is purely in the way he says it.
Given a redundant world, we may all begin to sound and go
round a little like Gertrude Stein, who in the course of talking
about “everything” happens to give the best suggestion of what
Emerson means: “Everything is the same except composition
and as the composition is different and always going to be dif¬
ferent everything is not the same.” After all, Pope and Emerson
are not alike. As Stein says, “Romanticism is then when every¬
thing being alike everything is naturally simply different and
romanticism” ( What Are Masterpieces , Los Angeles, 1940, pp.
34-5). And the triumph of classicism must be the discovery,
after the art of making fine distinctions, that everything is
confoundedly the same.
NOTES ON WISCONSIN PARASITIC FUNGI. XXI
H. C. Greene
Department of Botany, University of Wisconsin, Madison
The collections on which this series of notes is based were,
unless stated otherwise, made during the season of 1954.
Plasmopara halstedii (Farh) Berl. & DeToni, collected at
Madison, July 19, 1953 on leaves of Helianthus strumosus, is
overgrown by a species of Cladosporium. The hyphae of the
latter appear to penetrate the sporangiophores of the Plasmo¬
para, but the relationship is uncertain. The slender ultimate
threads of the Cladosporium mycelium are subhyaline, and the
overgrowth thus has somewhat the aspect of a mucedine.
Undetermined powdery mildews have been collected on the
following hosts: Grindelia squarrosa, near Forward, Dane Co.,
August 5 ; Aster shortii, near Monticello, Green Co. ; Capsella
hursa-pastoris, Madison, September 2. Coll. E. A. Stowell.
Glomerella PHOMOIDES Swank is described (Phytopath. 43:
285. 1953) as the perfect stage of Colletotrichum phomoides
(Sacc.) Chester. C. phomoides has been collected in Wisconsin
on tomato and pepper.
Venturia sp. (immature) on Gaylussacia baccata was col¬
lected at Hope Lake Bog, Jefferson Co., September 19 by M. S.
Bergseng. Immature Venturias have been found on a number of
Ericaceae in Wisconsin. It is assumed they require overwinter¬
ing to mature.
Plruroceras populi G. E. Thompson is described (Mycologia
46: 655. 1954) as the perfect stage of Marssonina rhabdospora
(Ell. & Ev.) Magn. which occurs in Wisconsin on Populus
grandidentata and P. tremuloides.
G. W. Fischer’s “Manual of the North American Smut Fungi”,
which recently appeared, introduces a number of name changes
affecting smuts which occur on Wisconsin hosts. Entyloma gaur-
aniticum Speg. (on Brauneria pallida) is a synonym of E. poly-
sporum (Pk.) Far! Entyloma irregular e Johans, (on Poa pra-
tensis) and Entyloma crastophilum Sacc. (on Agrostis alba,
Glyceria pallida, Phleum pratense) are both considered as syno¬
nyms of Entyloma dactylidis (Pass.) Cif. Entyloma saniculae
Peck (on Sanicula gregaria, S. marilandica) is a synonym of
Entyloma eryngii (Cda.) DeBary. Entyloma gratiolae (Davis)
Cif. is used instead of E. linariae var. gratiolae for the smut on
29
30 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
Gratiola neglecta, and Entyloma linariae Schrot. instead of E.
linariae var. veronicae Wint. for the smut on Veronica peregrina.
Farysia olivacea (DC.) Syd. replaces Ustilago olivacea (DC.)
Tul. (on Carex rostrata) . Melanopsichium austro^americanum
(Speg.) Beck is said not to occur in North America and the Wis¬
consin smut (on Polygonum lapathif olium) is Melanopsichium
pennsylvanicum Hirschh. Sorosporium cenchri Henn. replaces
S. syntherismae (Pk.) Farl. for the smut on sand bur and some
of the Panicum capillare group. Tilletia caries (DC.) Tul. re¬
places T. tritici (Bjerk.) Wint. and T. foetida (Wallr.) Liro,
also on wheat, is used instead of T. foetens (B. & C.) Tul.
Urocystis colchici (Schl.) Rabenh. is employed instead of U.
cepulae Frost for the smut on cultivated onion. The smut of
Waldsteinia fragarioides is removed from Urocystis to Usta-
cystis Zundel, as U. waldsteiniae (Pk.) Zundel. Ustilago peren-
nans Rostr. (on Arrhenatherum elatius) is regarded as a syno¬
nym of U. avenae (Pers.) Rostr. For the smut on species of
Glyceria, Ustilago davisii Liro replaces U. longissima var. macro -
spora Davis. Ustilago maydis (DC.) Cda. replaces Ustilago zeae
(Schw.) Ung., and Ustilago nuda (Jens.) Rostr. is substituted
for Ustilago tritici (Pers.) Rostr. Ustilago syntherismae
(Schw.) Pk. (on Digitaria sanguinalis) replaces U. rahen-
horstiana, regarded as a synonym.
Puccinia SIMULANS (Pk.) Barth. II on Sporobolus cryp-
tandrus was reported by Davis (Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci. 30: 14.
1937). A collection made near Cambria, Columbia Co., in Sep¬
tember 1954 has some teliospores as well, eliminating the possi¬
bility of confusion with the closely connected Uromyces sporoboli
Ell. & Ev.
Phyllostictae, undetermined as to species, have been found
on various hosts. Descriptive notes on some of these follow: 1)
On Conocephalum conicum. Sauk Co., Parfrey’s Glen, May 19.
Micro-conidial. Parasitism is dubious, although the dead portions
of the gametophytes on which the fungus occurs are closely con¬
nected with fresh, green living portions. 2) On Scirpus atro-
virens. Dane Co., Madison, August 9. The hyaline, bacilliform
conidia are 4-6 x 1.5/x, and are very likely connected with a sub¬
sequently produced ascomycetous stage. This organism was dis¬
cussed at some length in my Notes XVI (Amer. Midi. Nat. 48:
747. 1952) , but until the present collection no conidia of any sort
had ever been noted by me. 3) On Phaseolus vulgaris. Dane Co.,
Madison, August 1952. In an uncertain relationship on dull
brown lesions on leaves which also bear Cercospora canescens
Ell. & Mart. The pycnidia are pale brown, thin-walled, subglo-
1955]
Greene — Wisconsin Parasitic Fungi. XXI
31
bose, about 160-175/a diam., with conidia hyaline, short-cylin-
dric, 5-7 x 2.5-3/a. 4) On Ilex verticillata (cult.). Dane Co.,
Madison, August 28. The conidia are 5-6 x 2/a, the pycnidia about
125/a diam., of the dimensions of P. haynaldi Roum., but the spots
are not as well defined as those in European specimens on Ilex
opaca. 5) On Amsonia trabernaemontana (cult.). Dane Co., Mad¬
ison, July 7. The lesions are tan and elongate, following the leaf
midribs. The pycnidia are pale olivaceous by transmitted light,
subglobose, about 125/a diam. The conidia are hyaline, with a
faint greenish cast, short-cylindric, 4-7 x 3-4/a. 6) On Solidago
flexicaulis (latifolia). Lafayette Co., near Fayette, August 25.
This fungus is characterized by spores that approach those of a
Septoria. The large, conspicuous spots are deep brown, faintly
zonate, with a yellowish halo surrounding them, orbicular, 1-1.5
cm. diam. The scattered pycnidia are smoky-brown, subglobose,
with those measured running from about 165-200/a diam. The
conidia are hyaline, rod-shaped, straight or very slightly curved,
biguttulate with a tiny shining droplet at each end of the conid-
ium, 7-10 x 1.5/a.
Asteromella (?) sp. was destructively parasitic on leaves of
Toefieldia glutinosa at Madison, August 25. The small, non-
ostiolate, shining-black, globose fruiting bodies (or sclerotia?)
are about 35-55/a diam., clustered, and connected by strands of
dark, dendritically arranged mycelium, which permeates the leaf
and resulted in total killing back from the tip. Conidia were not
produced, so far as observed.
Phomopsis (?) sp. on Cannabis sativa. Dane Co., near Mazo-
manie, August 25, and in Green Co. at Brodhead, September 1.
Descriptive notes : Lesions very striking, conspicuous ashen
areas on living leaflets, tending to run from margin to midrib,
variable in length and width, but in general somewhat rounded
or orbicular, with the pycnidia arranged in concentric rings
easily visible to the naked eye. Pycnidia black, strongly devel¬
oped above, less perfectly so in the leaf tissue below, flattened in
the lower portion, sometimes confluent, ostiolate, 80-200/a in long
diam. Conidiophores very short and inconspicuous, lining the
pycnidial cavity. Conidia hyaline, often guttulate, subcylindric
to subfusoid, 5-8 x 2.5-3.5/a. Scolecospores not observed.
It is difficult to see how this striking fungus, if it is at all
common and widespread, has hitherto escaped mycologists’
notice, but I find nothing reported on Cannabis which seems even
suggestive. Phyllosticta cannabis (Kirchn.) Speg., already re¬
ported from Wisconsin and in addition represented in our her¬
barium by an authentic European specimen, is quite different
and much less well marked.
32 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
I am, and always have been, uncertain as to the exact morpho¬
logic limits of Phomopsis, and my uncertainty has in no way
been allayed by examination of the numerous specimens labeled
as being of that genus in our herbarium. I have considered the
presence of both alpha- and beta-type spores as being perhaps
the most important feature. In addition, those species which
occur on living tissue, of which I have listed several, tend to have
large black pycnidia on prominent lesions and the alpha spores
are subfusoid.
Stagonospora sp. on Equisetum hyemale, collected at Madi¬
son, August 7, appears strongly parasitic on the upper portions
of stems, which are killed back and have become whitened. This
is perhaps Stagonospora equiseti Fautr. which is inadequately
described, except for spore characters which are like those of
the specimen in hand. The spores are said to be cylindric or
tapered at both ends, hyaline, 3-septate, 20-25 x 4-5/*. No state¬
ment is made as to pycnidial characters. In the Wisconsin speci¬
men they are approx. 250-300/* diam., dark brown, subglobose,
seriate, sometimes two or three very close together in a row.
Stagonospora brachyelytri Greene (Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci.
38: 244. 1946) was first collected in midsummer. In 1954 the
fungus was found again in the type locality in May, strongly
infecting the first leaves of shoots of the host just pushing out
of the ground, indicating a possible systematic condition.
Stagonospora sp. on Abutilon theophrasti was collected
August 17 near Black Earth, Dane Co. I find no report of
Stagonospora on this host. The lesions are sharply defined, and
the fungus appears strongly parasitic, but the specimen is too
small for use as a type. The spots are small, rounded, 2-4 mm.
diam., with pale brown centers and a darker brown border.
Pycnidia are subglobose, about 125/* diam., thin-walled, yellow-
brown, with a well-marked ostiole surrounded by a ring of
darker cells. The spores are hyaline, cylindric, 18-22 x 3-4/*, and
when mature seem to be uniformly 3-septate.
Phaeoseptoria festucae var. andropogonis R. Sprague was
described in these notes (Amer. Midi. Nat. 41: 722. 1949) as
having pycnospores 60-85/* long, but in a specimen collected near
Lodi, Columbia Co., in August, many of the spores are up to
115/* long. In essential morphology, however, they do not differ
from those of the type.
Gloeosporium sp. occurs on leaflets of cultivated rose, col¬
lected at Madison, July 1926, by R. Sprague. Descriptive notes
are as follows : Spots none ; acervuli hypophyllous, subepidermal,
scattered or gregarious, brownish, elevated, approx. 100-150/*
1955] Greene — Wisconsin Parasitic Fungi. XXI 33
diam. ; conidia hyaline, ovoid to subfusoid, 7-10 x 2. 5-3.5/*.
According to Jenkins (Mycologia 23: 223. 1932) Gloeosporium
rosae Halsted is a nomen nudum.
Colletotrichum sp. occurs associated with and in question¬
able relationship to Septoria saccharina Ell. & Ev. on leaves of
seedlings of Acer saccharum, collected near Albany, Green Co.,
August 25. The Colletotrichum is epiphyllous on small, angled,
grayish spots which are usually, but not always, adjacent to those
bearing the Septoria, and it appeared consistently on large num¬
bers of leaves. The small, rounded acervuli have dark brown,
straight, evenly tapered setae, 100-175 x 4.5-6/*, 2-4-septate.
The conidia range from the typical boat shape to straight-fusoid,
and are 17-20 x 3.5-4/*. There seem to be no reports of Colleto¬
trichum on Acer saccharum and related maples.
Oidium pirinum Ell. & Ev., the type of which is in the Uni¬
versity of Wisconsin Herbarium, was collected at Racine, Wis.
in June 1888 by J. J. Davis on a host identified as Pyrus coron-
aria. The host appears instead to be Crataegus sp. bearing
Monilia crataegi Died. (Annal. Mycol. 2: 529. 1904). Diedicke’s
description and that of Ellis and Everhart (Jour. Mycol. 5: 68.
1889) correspond closely. As is pointed out by Cash in her valu¬
able contribution entitled “A Record of the Fungi Named by
J. B. Ellis”, Sumstine (Mycologia 5: 58. 1913) transferred, arbi¬
trarily and mechanically it would seem from an examination of
his article, O. pirinum to Acrosporium, as A. pirinum (E. & E.)
Sumstine.
Botrytis sp. occurred on large lesions, up to 5 cm. diam., on
leaflets of Arisaema atrorubens (triphyllum) in the New Glarus
Woods, Green Co., June 14. This is one of a considerable series
of the more succulent woodland plants observed over the years
as being attacked by a large, coarse species (or more than one
species?) of Botrytis. All have appeared as at least possibly
parasitic, despite the reputation of Botrytis species as sapro¬
phytes.
Didymaria puncta J. J. Davis (Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci. 24:
290. 1929) was described as parasitizing Sisyrhincium campestre
at a station near New Glarus, Green Co., and a second collection
has recently been made at Madison. This surely verges on Cerco-
sporella, but in several mounts no conidia with more than one
septum were seen. The host is tentatively identified as S. camp¬
estre, but the treatments of the genus Sisyrhincium in the stand¬
ard manuals are inadequate.
Passalora fasciculata (C. & E.) Earle has been reported
from Wisconsin on four species of Euphorbia— E . corollata, E.
34 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
glyptosperma, E. preslii, E. serpyllifolia — largely on the author¬
ity of the late J. J. Davis. Comparison of the Wisconsin material
with Fungi Columbiani No. 380 (on E. preslii) and No. 3234 (on
E. nutans) has convinced me that probably only the Fungi
Columbiani specimens really represent P. fasciculata, and this
with wide latitude for spore size variation from the original
description. The large (20-30 x 8-10/x), hyaline, uniseptate, sub-
fusoid conidia show but a single spore scar, indicating they are
non-catentulate. The conidiophores are pale brown, somewhat
flexuous, noticeably and strongly fascicled, the fascicles being
evenly distributed over the leaf surface. In all the Wisconsin
specimens, on the other hand, the conidiophores, although
densely aggregated, are not fascicled and are almost confined to
the stems, or in the case of E. corollata to the leaf midribs. They
are in general darker and are often more strongly angled, but
with length variable, the longer tending to be angled. The conidia
are those of typical Cladosporium, pale olivaceous or olivaceous
with two spore scars, indicating catenulation. On E. corollata
they are mostly uniseptate, with a slight constriction at the sep¬
tum, subcylindric, 15-20 x 6-7 y. On the other species of Wis¬
consin Euphorbia mentioned the conidia are almost uniformly
continuous and limoniform, 10-16 x 4.5-6.5/x. In my Notes VI
(Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci. 36: 252. 1944), while still tentatively
adhering to the Passalora conception, I remarked that the Wis¬
consin collections would be better assigned to Cladosporium spp.
Which species is a question. Cladosporium solutum Link is re¬
ported as occurring on stems of Euphorbia marginata, but I
have been unable to find a description.
Cercospora sp., occurring in small amount on leaves of
Hypericum ascyron at Madison, August 28, does not in any par¬
ticular resemble C. hyperici Tehon & Daniels, the only species on
Hypericum mentioned in Chupp’s monograph. The fungus is
hypophyllous on small, rounded, reddish spots. The conidiophores
in lax fascicles, are 50-200 x 4.5-5.5/x, multiseptate, several times
geniculate, clear brown, with paler, abruptly conic tips, while
the conidia are from 60-140 x 3-4 /x, multiseptate, acicular, hya¬
line, with truncate base.
Alternarxa sp. on Panicum virgatum, collected at Sylvania,
Racine Co., August 19, 1953, appears parasitic and is on nar¬
rowly elongate white lesions with a reddish border. There are
many lesions per leaf, causing very noticeable discoloration. In¬
sofar as the spots are concerned, this seems quite similar to
Macrosporium panici Ell. & Ev., as described, (Erythea 4: 28.
1896), but the fungus itself is a larger, coarser form.
1955] Greene— Wisconsin Parasitic Fungi. XXI 35
Alternarxa sp., seemingly parasitic, occurred on living
leaves of Polanisia graveolens in Iowa Co., near Arena, August
10. The pale brown spots are faintly zonate, rounded, 1.5-4 mm.
diam., sharply defined. The fungus is amphigenous, but mostly
epiphyllous. The conidia are pale brownish-gray, rapidly taper¬
ing from the base, multiseptate horizontally, with only rarely a
vertical septation, 80-165 x 11-14/x. The conidiophores are the
same shade as the conidia, relatively short, about 30-40 x 4-5 p,
straight, simple, sometimes denticulate, 1-2-septate. There is no
indication that this fungus is secondary after another or follows
insect attack.
Cilicxpodixjm AXJRXFXLXJM (Ger.) Sacc. has been collected on
Daedalea unicolor at Madison, October 1953. The status of this
interesting fungus is uncertain, but as the Daedalea sporophores
do not look particularly fresh, it seems probable that the Cilici-
podium developed saprophytically. The same remark applies to
Sepedomxxjm CHRYSOSPERMUM (Bull.) Fr. on an undetermined
polypore, also collected at Madison, July 1953.
Fusarxum sp. occurs on dark-margined, brownish, subzonate,
orbicular spots about .7-1 cm, diam. on living leaves of Abutilon
theophrasti collected near Black Earth, Dane Co., August 17. If
any other agent was responsible for the spotting it is not appar¬
ent, ((Fusarium roseum Lk.” has been reported on leaves of
Abutilon .
Panicum leibergii, collected near Albany, Green Co., on Sep¬
tember 1, bears black sclerotia on the green leaves and on
mottled areas on languishing and dead basal leaves. On the dead
leaves the sclerotia are less perfectly formed, perhaps indicating
they did not start growth until after death of the leaf, and that
it proved a less favorable substrate than the living leaves. In any
event the matter of parasitism seems open to question. This is
evidently the same organism found in 1949 on the closely related
Panicum scribnerianum (Amer. Midi. Nat. 44: 633. 1950). An¬
other specimen was collected on dead leaves of Stipa spartea at
a station near Avoca, Iowa Co., September 27.
Additional Hosts
The following hosts have not been previously recorded as
bearing the fungi mentioned in Wisconsin.
Plasmopara geranii (Peck) Berk & DeToni on Geranium
sibiricuM . Dane Co., near Dane, August 17.
Elsinoe veneta (Burkh.) Jenkins on Ruhus strigosus . Dane
Co., Madison, September 5. On leaves and canes, only sparingly
on the latter.
36 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
Erysiphe galeopsidis DC. on Heliopsis scabra. Green Co.,
near Attica, September 1. The rather extensive remarks in my
Notes XI (Amer. Midi. Nat. 41 : 717. 1949) concerning the occur¬
rence of E. galeopsidis on Eupatorium rugosum seem to apply
in this case as well, characterized as the specimen is by a profuse
development of cottony superficial mycelium, exceptionally large
perithecia with golden-yellow contents, and with asci which show
no spores, so far as observed.
Erysiphe cichoracearum DC. on Solidago graminifolia.
Dane Co., Madison, September 22, 1953. On Solidago flexicaulis
(latifolia). Waukesha Co., Nashotah, October 22, 1953.
Sphaerella (Mycosphaerella) sicyicola Ell. & Ev. on
E chinocystis lobata. Dane Co., Madison, August 28. On well-
defined spots and appearing parasitic.
Venturia sporoboli H. C. Greene on Sporobolus heterolepis.
Columbia Co., near Swan Lake, Sect. 2, Pacific Twp., September
11, 1953.
Claviceps PURPUREA (Fr.) Tul. Sclerotia on Calamagrostis
inexpansa var. brevior (host det. N. C. Fassett). Noted on two
phanerogamic specimens, one collected by J. R. Heddle at Madi¬
son, August 1909, the other by J. J. Davis at Fish Creek, Door
Co., September 3, 1929.
Ophiodothis haydeni (B. & C.) Sacc. on Aster azureus. Rock
Co., Magnolia Station, July 8, 1953. This uncertain organism,
which seems nevertheless to be an entity, is discussed in my
Notes IX (Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci. 38: 236. 1946).
Phyllachora graminis (Pers.) Fckl. on Calamagrostis neg-
lecta. Door Co., Fish Creek, September 27, 1919. Coll. J. J. Davis.
On a phanerogamic specimen in the University of Wisconsin
Herbarium. Davis filed the specimen as doubtful Calamagrostis
hyperborea and did not report the fungus. Fassett later deter¬
mined the host in connection with his critical revision of the
species of grasses occurring in Wisconsin.
Pellicularia filamentosa (Pat.) Rogers on Erigeron pul -
chellus. Grant Co., Nelson Dewey Memorial Park near Cassville,
August 3. Basidia present.
Urocystxs anemones (Pers.) Schroet. on Anemone patens
var. wolf gangiana. Columbia Co., Pacific Twp., near Swan Lake,
June 9.
Entyloma australe Speg. on Physalis subglabrata. Dane
Co., Primrose, August 16, 1953.
Coleosporium SOLIDAGINIS (Schw.) Thum. II, III on Aster
ptarmicoides. Dane Co., Madison, August 26.
1955] Greene — Wisconsin Parasitic Fungi . XXI
37
Puccinia graminis Pers. II on Trisetum melicoides. Milwau¬
kee Co., Cudahy, August 9, 1939. Coll. L. H. Shinners. On a
phanerogamic specimen in the University of Wisconsin Her¬
barium. Not reported on this host in Arthur’s Manual. On Poa
pratensis (Merion bluegrass). Milwaukee Co., Milwaukee, Sep¬
tember 9. Comm. E. K. Wade.
Puccinia graminis Pers. II, III on Hierochloe odorata. Colum¬
bia Co., near Swan Lake, Pacific Twp., July 27. In small pustules
near the leaf midrib. The flowering stalks of Hierochloe are pro¬
duced in the early spring and disappear before midsummer. The
long, semidecumbent summer leaves spring in tufts from a grow¬
ing point near the ground and there is no well-defined stem on
which characteristic lesions of P. graminis might be produced.
Puccinia sporoboli Arth. II, III on Sporobolus asper. Grant
Co., Nelson Dewey Memorial Park, near Cassville, August 14,
1953.
Uromyces amphidymus Syd. II, III on Glyceria borealis. Dane
Co., Madison, September 6. Occurring in massive profusion on
the bottom of a recently dried-up pond where the host formed a
covering mat. The only earlier collections were made in the
1890’s by J. J. Davis on Glyceria septentrionalis, in Racine Co.
Puccinia extensicola Plowr. I on Oenothera pilosella Raf.
The host is an escape from cultivation. Dane Co., Madison, June
24. II, III on Carex sartwellii. Rock Co., Evansville, October 4,
1953. Coll. R. W. Curtis. On Carex haydenii. Dane Co., Madison,
August 7.
Puccinia silphii Schw. on Silphium integri folium X perfoli-
atum. Green Co., Brodhead, July 20.
Phyllosticta ROSAE Desm. on Rosa setigera (cult.). Dane
Co., Madison, July 8.
Phyllosticta cacaliae H. C. Greene on Cirsium discolor.
Dane Co., Madison, August 18. On Cacalia atriplicifolia. Madi¬
son, August 26. This species is analagous to the more aptly
named Ascochyta compositarum J. J. Davis in that both occur
on a wide range of hosts within the Compositae.
Ascochyta compositarum J. J. Davis on Aster umbellatus.
Dane Co., Madison, August 9. On Prenanthes racemosa. Madi¬
son, September 3.
Darluca FILUM (Biv.) Cast, on Uromyces sporoboli Ell. & Ev.
Ill on Sporobolus asper. Lafayette Co., Ipswich, October 6.
Septoria andropogonis f. sporobolicola R. Sprague on
Sporobolus asper . Grant Co., Nelson Dewey Memorial Park near
Cassville, August 14, 1953.
38 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
Septoria oenotherae West, on Oenothera parviflora. Dunn
Co., Elk Mound, September 5, 1953. Coll. D. E. Meyer.
Septoria sonchifolia Cke. on Sonchus oleraceus. Columbia
Co., near Lodi, August 17.
Septoria helianthi Ell. & Kell, on Helianthus petiolaris.
Sauk Co., near Lone Rock, August 14, 1953.
Septoria psilostega Ell. & Mart, on Galium trifidum. Dane
Co., Madison, September 4. The differentiation between Galium
tinctorium and G. trifidum in the latest manuals is scarcely sat¬
isfactory and the above determination is made because the speci¬
men in question seems to have a predominance of the character¬
istics ascribed to the latter.
Hainesia lythri (Desm.) Hoehn. on Oenothera pilosella Raf.
Dane Co., Madison, June 24. On Potentilla simplex (canadensis).
Waukesha Co., Nashotah, July 13.
Gloeosporium brunneo-maculatum H. C. Greene on Trillium
recurvatum. Green Co., Oakly, July 9.
Colletotrichum graminicola (Ces.) Wils. on Agrostis alba.
Dane Co., Madison, August 19. Sprague in his “Diseases of
Cereals and Grasses in North America” indicates Wisconsin as
a host locality, but there is no earlier specimen in our herbarium
and Davis did not report this fungus on red top.
Ellisiella caudata (Pk.) Sacc. on Sporobolus asper. Grant
Co., Nelson Dewey Memorial Park near Cassville, August 14,
1953.
Ovularia PUSILLA (Ung.) Sacc. & D. Sacc. (0. pulchella
(Ces.) Sacc.) on Hierochloe odorata. Columbia Co., Pacific Twp.
near Swan Lake. July 27. The closely related Phalaris arundin-
acea commonly bears Ovularia hordei (Cav.) Sprague, but this
specimen does not have the serpentine conidiophores which
characterize the latter.
Ramularia canadensis Ell. & Ev. on Carex sartwellii. Dane
Co.. Madison, August 1. On Carex trichocarpa. Lafayette Co.,
Yellowstone Lake near Fayette, August 25. On the basis of the
material that I have examined, it would seem that this would be
better referred to Didymaria.
Ramularia minax J. J. Davis on Soli dago altissima. Grant
Co., Nelson Dewey Memorial Park near Cassville, August 3.
Scolecotrichum GRAMINIS Fckl. on Alopecurus pratensis.
Monroe Co., Melvina, June 20, 1940. Coll. L. H. Shinners.
Helminthosporium giganteum Heald & Wolf on Phalaris
arundinacea , Iowa Co., 3 miles west of Mazomanie, August 10.
On Leersia oryzoides. Dane Co., Madison, August 29. In the
latter specimen some of the conidia measured as much as 350 x
1955] Greene — Wisconsin Parasitic Fungi . XXI 39
27ft. Drechsler, in his treatment of graminicolous species of Hel¬
minthosporium (Jour. Agr. Res. 24: 676. 1923), states “The
conidia, which are produced in relatively small numbers, are
easily the most massive of any species of Helminthosporium
hitherto described, and are probably among the very largest pro¬
duced by any group of fungi. . . . The volume of a spore of such
dimensions is several hundred times greater than the volume of
spores of molds that are not by any means regarded as minute
fungi, while on comparison with some of the smallest types, like
species of Actinomyces , ratios of approximately 1 to 300,000
may be obtained/’
Helminthosporium sativum Pamm., King & Bakke on Stipa
spartea. Iowa Co., near Avoca, September 27.
Cercospora caricis Oud. (C. caricina Ell. & Dearn.) on Car ex
tenera, C. vulpinoidea. Dane Co., Madison, July 17. On Car ex
pennsylvanica. Madison, August 24.
Cercospora silphii Ell. & Ev. on Silphium integrifolium.
Green Co., near Monticello, August 5.
Additional Species
The fungi mentioned have not been recorded before as occur¬
ring in Wisconsin.
Mycosphaerella spleniata (C. & P.) House on Quercus
bicolor. Iowa Co., Arena, April 15. On fallen, overwintered
leaves, which developed the fully matured stage after five days
in a moist chamber at room temperature. There can be little
doubt that the microconidial form on Quercus bicolor and Q.
macro carpa in Wisconsin, which has been listed as Phyllosticta
livida Ell. & Ev., is but the immature stage of M. spleniata . The
type of P. livi a, collected on Quercus douglasii in Amador Co.,
Calif., has been examined and shows close correspondence to
Wisconsin specimens.
Melannoma porothelia (B. & C.) Sacc. on Stereum sp. on
Cornus femina. Dane Co., Madison, January 8, 1954. Coll. J. R.
Jacobson. Perhaps only doubtfully parasitic. The Stereum had
girdled the host trunks at ground line and, probably due to
favorable moisture conditions, had in its older portions devel¬
oped a much thicker layer of fungus tissue than is usually seen
in Stereum.
Tranzschelia suffusca (Holw.) Arth. on Anemone patens
var. wolf gangiana. Columbia Co., Pacific Twp., near Swan Lake,
June 9. Many large, old plants showed very heavy infection. An
eastward extension of the Manual range.
40 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
Puccinia grindeliae Peck on Solidago nemoralis. Columbia
Co., near Lodi, September 24.
Uromyces sporoboli Ell. & Ev. II, III on Sporobolus asper.
Lafayette Co., Ipswich, September 10. A decided eastward exten¬
sion of the previously known range.
Exobasidium mycetophilum (Pk.) Burt, on Collybia dryo-
phila. Dane Co., Madison, July 13. Coll. J. H. Grcsklags. A very
curious and interesting form, described and figured in Peck’s
28th Report as Tremella mycetophila. Burt (Bull. Torr. Bot.
Club 28: 285. 1901), from a study of stained sections, assigns
the organism to Exobasi ium. The host was growing under
planted pines in the University of Wisconsin Arboretum.
Phyllosticta amaranthi Ell. & Kell, on Amaranthus
powellii. Dane Co., Madison, August 19.
Camarosporium parasiticum sp. nov.
Maculis orbicularibus, marginibus latis fuscis, centris pallidi-
oribus, 2-5 (plerumque 2-3) mm. diam. ; pycnidiis amphigenis,
nigris, muris crassis supra, tenuioribus infra, subrostratis, sub-
globosis, 150-180 /* diam. ca. ; conidiis fumosis, cylindraceis, sub-
cylindraceis, subglobosis vel ovoideis, levibus, septatis varie,
13-20 x 10-13/*.
Spots orbicular, with relatively wide dark brown border and
paler center, 2-5 (mostly 2-3) mm. diam.; pycnidia amphige-
nous, black, thick-walled above, somewhat thinner below, sub-
rostrate with a short thick black beak, subglobose, approx. ISO-
185/* diam. ; conidia smoky, cylindric, subcylindric, subglobose or
ovoid, smooth, variously septate, 13-20 x 10-13/*.
On living leaves of Grindelia squarrosa. Sect. 24, Township of
Perry near the village of Forward, Dane County, Wisconsin,
U. S. A., August 5, 1954.
The pycnidia are usually, but not always, arranged in a ring
toward the margin of the spot. There is much diversity in the
arrangement of the cross-septa in the conidia, many running at
acute angles.
The only other species of Camarosporium which seems para¬
sitic on living leaves with which I am familiar is C. roume-
guerei Sacc. on Chenopodiaceae. Of a considerable number of
species described on North American Compositae this is the only
one on living tissue that I have noted.
Gloeosporium eragrostidis sp. nov.
Maculis nullis; acervulis carnosis, amphigenis, elongatis, 200-
1200/* longis x 90-135/* latis; conidiophoris hyalinis, gracilibus,
1955]
Greene — Wisconsin Parasitic Fungi. XXI
41
ampulliformibus, 25-80 x 3/* ca. ; conidiis hyalinis, brevo-cylin-
draceis vel cylindraceis, 5-10 x 3-4/*.
Spots none, acervuli flesh-colored, amphigenous, more or less
elongate, 200-1200/* long x 90-135/* wide ; conidiophores hyaline,
slender-flask-shaped, 25-30 x 3/* approx. ; conidia hyaline, short-
cylindric or cylindric, 5-10 x 3-4/*.
On living leaves of Eragrostis spectabilis (Pursh) Steud. Two
miles east of Arena, Iowa County, Wisconsin, U. S. A., August
10, 1954.
E. spectabilis is a xerophyte with very strongly ribbed, in¬
rolling leaves. The acervuli evidently originate in the mesophyll
below the stomatal chambers, which are large and deep-set in
this host. The acervuli develop within these chambers, filling
them, and eventually breaking through to the leaf surface on one
or both sides of the leaf. The conidiophores arise from a mass of
pseudoparenchymatous tissue, are closely ranked, and appear to
be simple and unbranched. The elongate shape of the acervuli is
probably due to the xylem ridges of the host which sharply limit
lateral development.
Colletotrichum typhae sp. nov.
Maculis flavo- vel rufo-brunneis, elongatis, 1-7 cm. x .25-1 cm.
latis ; acervulis in cinereis orbicularibus vel subellipticis centris ;
acervulis gregariis vel confertis, diam. variis, plerumque 100-
200/* ca., amphigenis, depressis ; conidiophoris hyalinis, confertis,
brevibus, 10-15 x 3/*; setis in marginibus, saepe numerosis,
muris crassis, laxis, subgeniculatis, fusco-brunneis, apicibus
pallidioribus, subobtusis vel acutis, longitudinibus variis, inter-
dum 150 x 4-5.5/*; conidiis hyalinis, granulosis, rectis, subcylin-
draceis vel subfusoideis, 17-23 x 3-5/*.
Lesions yellow- or reddish-brown, elongate, 1-7 cm. x .25-1
cm. wide, with the acervuli on an orbicular to subelliptic cinere¬
ous central portion; acervuli gregarious or crowded, diameter
variable, mostly about 100-200/*, amphigenous, sunken; conidio¬
phores hyaline, crowded, short, about 10-15 x 3/*; setae marginal,
often numerous, thick-walled, rather lax, subgeniculate, dark
brown with paler, subobtuse to pointed tips, length variable, up
to 150 x 4-5.5/*; conidia hyaline, granular, straight, subcylindric
or subfusoid, 17-23 x 3-5/*.
On living leaves of Typha latifolia. University of Wisconsin
Arboretum, Madison, Dane County, Wisconsin, U. S. A., Sep¬
tember 25, 1953. Additional material was collected at the type
station on August 7, 1954.
42 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
Colletotrichum arisaematis sp. nov.
Maculis fumosis, diaphanis, marginibus fuscis, angustis,
orbicularibus, 4-7 mm. diam. ; acervulis gregariis, amphigenis,
parvis, rudibus, planis vel elevatis leviter, cellis pallido-brunneis ;
setis unicis vel in parvis f asciis (5-6), fere rectis vel curvis vel
sinuosis nonnihil, claro-brimneis, muris crassis, attentuatis,
apicibus acutis pallidioribus, 45-120 (plerumque 60-80 ca.) x
3- 4^, 1-2-septa tis, cellis basibus amplioribus nonnihil; conidio-
phoris hyalinis, tenuibus, brevibus, fere obsoletis ; conidiis
hyalinis, cylindraceis, granulosis, 15-22 x 3-4. by.
Spots smoky, diaphanous, with narrow dark border, orbicular,
4- 7 mm. diam. ; acervuli gregarious, amphigenous, small, rudi¬
mentary, plane or even slightly elevated, the cells pale brown;
setae single, or in small tufts of not more than 5 or 6, almost
straight, or somewhat curved or sinuous, clear brown, rather
thick-walled, attenuate, the acute tips paler, 45-120 (mostly 60-
80 ca.) x 3-4/*, 1-2-septate, basal cell moderately enlarged;
conidiophores hyaline, slender, short, almost obsolete; conidia
hyaline, cylindric, granular, 15-22 x 3-4.5//,.
On living leaves of Arisaema atrorubens ( triphyllum ) . New
Glarus Woods Roadside Park, Green County, Wisconsin, U. S. A.,
June 14, 1954.
Scarcely the usual Colletotrichum but, in my judgment, best
assigned here. The most striking thing about this species is the
large number of individual setae, not in tufts and seemingly not
associated with the acervuli. The enlarged basal cell of the seta
is usually about twice the diameter of the adjacent portion.
Although the acervuli, instead of being concave, the plane or
even slightly elevated they can hardly, in my opinion, be regarded
as sporodochia.
On the fresh green leaflets the spots are rather dull, but fol¬
lowing pressing and drying they become very striking, as the
normal host tissue tends to become decolorized. In addition to the
actual spots there remains a dull green halo approx. 2 mm. wide
around them indicating, it would seem, that the green color has
been fixed to the outer limits of fungus infection.
Rather poor material of this species was collected in 1947
(Amer. Midi. Nat. 39: 447. 1948), at which time the fungus was
discussed as being possibly close to Ramularia arisaematis Ell.
& Dearn.
Ramularia grindeliae Ell. & Kell, on Grindelia squarrosa.
Dane Co., near Forward, August 5. A small specimen, but on the
living leaves and closely corresponding to the original descrip¬
tion.
1955] Greene— Wisconsin Parasitic Fungi. XXI 43
Cercqspora brachiata Ell. & Ev. on Amaranthus blitoides.
On Amaranthus albus . Dane Co,, Madison, August 28. Also on
Amaranthus retroftexus. Madison, September 20.
Cercospora avicennae Chupp on Abutilon theophrasti . Dane
Co., Black Earth, August 17. Davis collected a specimen on this
host in 1935 and assigned it to C. althaeina Sacc., but Chupp
regards the fungus on Abutilon as distinct, and describes it as a
new species in his “Monograph of Cercospora", p. 369.
Cercospora haleniae Chupp & Bisby on Halenia deflexa.
According to Chupp, in his “Monograph of Cercospora" p. 233,
Wisconsin specimens on Halenia , determined by Davis as C.
gentianicola Ell. & Ev., are separate and distinct.
Alternarxa tenuis Nees on Vigna sinensis (cult.). Dane Co.,
Madison, September 12, 1953. Coll. J. B. Sinclair. This appears
strongly parasitic. It is highly probable that Alternaria atrans
Gibson, described as on cowpea in Arizona, is a synonym of
A. tenuis .
Briosia ampelophaga Cav. on leaves of Vitis riparia (vul-
pina). Dane Co., Madison, September 11. Det. by S. J. Hughes
of the Canadian Science Service. A most striking and interesting
stilbaceous fungus, figured in Flora Ital. Crypt. Pt. 1
(Hyphales) : 184. 1910. The original description, prepared from
material on Vitis vinifera , states that the fungus occurred on the
fruit, but Hughes points out that in a recent record from Texas
(Index PL Dis. in U. S.— PL Dis. Surv. 5: 1186. 1953) Briosia
is mentioned as causing “leaf blotch", a most apt designation for
the effect produced on Vitis riparia. Unless this is a recent intro¬
duction to Wisconsin, it is difficult to understand how it has
hitherto escaped detection, what with the large and conspicuous
lesions that are produced.
AN INVESTIGATION OF THE CHEMICAL OXYGEN
DEMAND DETERMINATION
Gerald W. Lawton
Hydraulic and Sanitary Laboratory, Civil Engineering
Department, University of Wisconsin
The biochemical oxygen demand (B.O.D.) determination for
evaluating the strength of domestic and industrial wastes is now
used almost universally. Despite its wide acceptance it possesses
the great shortcoming that five days are required for reliable
data. A test that would give results in a much shorter time would
of course be very desirable. Many attempts have been made to
select a chemical oxygen demand (C.O.D.) test that would give
the same results in a matter of hours or minutes. The difficulties
encountered in such tests arise from the fact that chemical oxi¬
dation of organic matter follows different paths and stops at dif¬
ferent points from those of biochemical oxidation. Thus the
values obtained by B.O.D. and C.O.D. determinations may have
a high degree of correlation but ordinarily they are not the same.
Moore, Kroner, and Ruchhoft (1) as well as Ingols and Mur¬
ray (2) have given brief histories of the many attempts made
to develop a satisfactory C.O.D. test. The main oxidizing agents
that have been used are potassium dichromate, potassium per¬
manganate, ceric sulfate, and iodic acid. Standard Methods for
the Examination of Water and Sewage (3) at present describes
an oxygen consumed test using potassium permanganate as the
oxidizing agent. From recently published results (1) (2) (4) it
appears that a dichromate oxidizing solution is the most reliable
and is not difficult to use.
Rhame (4) used potassium dichromate as the oxidizing agent
in a mixture of equal parts of sulfuric and phosphoric acids. He
determined the unused dichromate by means of potassium iodide,
starch, and sodium thiosulfate. His method did not consider the
loss of volatile materials by evaporation from the open container
during boiling, and it did not use a constant mixture that would
maintain a constant boiling temperature. These two conditions
undoubtedly produced results that were not readily reproducible.
Ingols and Murray (2) employed the same oxidizing agent
that Rhame had suggested and similarly determined the amount
of unused reagent. They refined Rhame’s method by refluxing in
45
46 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
an all glass apparatus for a definite period of time ; by taking a
constant amount of reagent and sample, thus causing a constant
boiling temperature; and by correcting for the oxidation of the
chloride ion. Their work showed that a refluxing temperature of
about 150°C was the most satisfactory. They obtained this tem¬
perature by using 25 ml. of acid-oxidation mixture and 10 ml. of
sample. Samples of that size, however, often gave very small
depletions which were conducive to large errors.
Moore, Kroner, and Ruchhoft (1) omitted the phosphoric acid
and used sulfuric acid alone in the oxidation mixture. As a result
they were able to obtain a satisfactory refluxing temperature of
about 150 °C. and still use a large sample of waste. Their method
of determining the amount of oxidizing agent remaining unused
consisted of a direct titration with standard ferrous ammonium
sulfate using orthophenanthroline ferrous complex as the indi¬
cator.
Their work consisted mainly of determining the chemical oxy¬
gen demand of pure organic compounds. They found that sugars
and cellulose were oxidized nearly to completion. Straight chain
acids, including acetic acid, and straight chain hydrocarbons
were scarcely attacked. Many other types of organic compounds
were oxidized to various degrees but in all cases where the break¬
down resulted in acetic acid the action stopped there.
Muers (5) in a communication to Ruchhoft (6) made it known
that silver sulfate is an efficient catalyst for the oxidation of
acetic acid. Investigations using this catalyst were later carried
on at Cincinnati under the direction of Ruchhoft. (7)
Discussion of the Present Study
The aims of this investigation were :
1. To study and evaluate silver sulfate as a catalyst for the
C.O.D. test.
2. To attempt to find other suitable catalysts.
3. To determine, and attempt to correlate, the C.O.D. and
B.O.D. values of pea cannery, corn cannery, paper mill and
other wastes.
In the present study it was found that excessive and violent
bumping often occurred when sulfuric acid alone was used in the
refluxing mixture. The following method was developed which
appears to be very satisfactory in that bumping is almost com¬
pletely eliminated and a moderate size sample is used. Potassium
dichromate is dissolved in enough 4:1 mixture of sulfuric and
1955] Lawton — Chemical Oxygen Demand Determination 47
phosphoric acids to make the resulting solution 0.125 normal as
to potassium dichromate. Fifty ml. of this reagent are mixed
with forty ml. of sample and refluxed for two hours in an all
glass apparatus. The temperature maintains itself at about 147-
150 °C. and little bumping occurs. The unused dichromate is
titrated with ferrous ammonium sulfate using orthophenanthro-
line as the indicator.
Reagents and Procedure
The oxidation mixture is prepared by placing 6.125 g. of potas¬
sium dichromate in 200 ml. of 85% phosphoric acid and adding
concentrated sulfuric acid to make 1 liter. Considerable heat is
evolved and the dichromate dissolves slowly. The 0.25 N ferrous
ammonium sulfate is prepared by dissolving 100 g. of Fe S04 •
(NH4)2 S04 • 6H20 in enough 0.5 N sulfuric acid to make 1 liter.
This solution is standardized daily with 0.25 N potassium dichro¬
mate. The orthophenanthroline indicator is prepared by dissolv¬
ing 1.5 g. of the reagent in 100 ml. of 0.025 N ferrous sulfate
solution made with 0.5 N sulfuric acid.
40 ml. of sample, or a lesser amount diluted to that volume,
is placed in a round bottom standard taper joint flask (prefer¬
ably 500 ml.) containing a number of glass beads. To this is
added 50 ml. of the oxidizing solution. The mixture is thoroughly
agitated, attached to an all glass water cooled condenser and
refluxed for two hours. A distilled water reagent blank is re¬
fluxed at the same time. When the mixture is cool the condenser
is rinsed with distilled water, the flask is removed and approxi¬
mately 200 ml. distilled water added. The excess oxidizing agent
is determined by titration with the ferrous ammonium sulfate.
The endpoint is sharp, changing from green to red.
Calculations
C.O.D., p.p.m. =
(a-b) X N X 1000 X 8
Volume of sample
a = ml. of ferrous ammonium sulfate used for blank,
b = ml. of ferrous ammonium sulfate used for sample.
N = normality of ferrous ammonium sulfate.
Correction for chloride oxidation.
Chloride corrected C.O.D. = C.O.D. — (0.23 X p.p.m. chlo¬
ride) .
48 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
Catalysts in the C.O.D. Determination
Muers (5) found silver, in the form of silver sulfate, to be a
good catalyst for this test. He used a concentration of about
0.33% silver sulfate in the refluxing mixture. Determinations
made under similar conditions confirmed his findings. Water
solutions of acetic acid, lactic acid, pyridine, benzene and alanine
were made and the C.O.D. of each determined with and without
the silver sulfate present. The oxidation of acetic acid, lactic acid,
and alanine in the presence of the catalyst was greatly increased
but benzene and pyridine were unaffected, as shown in Table I.
TABLE I
The Catalytic Effect of Silver Sulfate on C.O.D.
Sulfates and oxides of mercury, copper, sodium, magnesium,
manganese, cerium, lead, aluminum, zinc and tellurium as well
as elemental selenium were also used to determine any possible
catalytic effect on this reaction. None of these materials appeared
to be of appreciable value, as shown in Table II.
In the case of selenium the oxidizing power of the reagent was
consumed even in the blank, hence no values were obtained. This
result does not agree with that of Ingols and Murray (2) who
found selenium to be a good catalyst. With tellurium dioxide
there was a considerable depletion in the blank as well as in the
sample, hence the values obtained are of doubtful value.
Manganese sulfate reacted to form the purple permanganate
with which a sharp endpoint was not readily obtained. The
apparent increase in the C.O.D. with this compound may have
some significance, but it is believed that it would not be a prac¬
tical catalyst since a comparatively large amount of it produced
only a moderate increase in the oxidation values obtained.
The Catalytic Effect of Various Substances on C.O.D.
1955] Lawton — Chemical Oxygen Demand Determination
49
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50 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
A series of tests were made to determine the amount of silver
sulfate necessary for maximum oxidation of acetic acid. The re¬
sults are shown graphically in Figure 1. The optimum amount of
silver sulfate appeared to be about 0.15% by weight. In a similar
series of tests with pea cannery waste the optimum amount of
this catalyst again appeared to be about 0.15% as shown in
Figure 2. Using this value as the standard silver concentration
a series of tests were made with acetic acid to determine the
optimum time of refluxing the sample. Figure 3 indicates that in
approximately 1.5 hours the oxidation was complete. The two
hour reflux period was retained and considered to be entirely
satisfactory.
Comparison of C.O.D. and B.O.D. of Various Wastes
The 5 day B.O.D. represents about 68% of the ultimate oxygen
demand that is exerted over an extended period of time. It is
often assumed that the C.O.D. should correspond to this ultimate
B.O.D., but the assumption is true only in those cases where oxi¬
dation goes to completion both chemically and biochemically
under the conditions of the tests. When that condition prevails
the ratio of the C.O.D. to the 5 day B.O.D. should be 1.47:1
C 0.0 VALUES <% OF THEORETICAL)
1955] Lawton — Chemical Oxygen Demand Determination 51
TIME
IN HOURS
52 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
(100%: 68%). The ratios of the two determinations that are
given in this paper in all cases refer to the 5 day B.O.D.
In cooperation with the Wisconsin State Board of Health and
the State Laboratory of Hygiene, daily 24 hour composite sam¬
ples of pea cannery and corn cannery waste were analyzed for
their C.O.D. and 5 day B.O.D. The C.O.D. values of the early
samples of pea cannery waste were determined without the silver
catalyst, but all others were determined both with and without
this catalyst. In all cases there was a considerable increase in
the C.O.D. values when using the catalyst, the average increase
being 18% for the pea cannery waste and 53% for the corn
cannery waste.
TABLE III
C.O.D. and B.O.D. Values of Pea Cannery Waste
1955] Lawton — Chemical Oxygen Demand Determination 53
Table III gives the 5 day B.O.D., the C.O.D. with and without
catalyst, and the ratios of the C.O.D. to B.O.D. for pea cannery
waste. The ratios based on the catalyzed C.O.D. determinations
approach the calculated value of 1.47 :1, the average being 1.49 :1.
The deviation from the average ratio is moderate, the maximum
deviation for 17 determinations being 31%. For the non-cata-
lyzed determinations the ratios are considerably lower as shown
by the average of 1.31:1. From this data it was concluded that
the use of silver sulfate in the C.O.D. determinations on cannery
waste is practical and desirable.
TABLE IV
C.O.D. :B.O.D. Ratio of Corn Cannery Waste
Table IV shows the C.O.D. and B.O.D. values and their ratio
for corn cannery waste. As with the pea cannery waste the ratio
closely approaches the calculated value, the average being 1.54:1.
The maximum deviation from the average ratio is 43%, which
is somewhat greater than that for pea cannery waste. A probable
explanation for at least a part of this deviation is the fact that
54 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
the samples did not arrive daily and in many cases were several
days old before the determinations could be made.
Table V shows the C.O.D. and B.O.D. values and their ratio
for five samples of waste sulfite liquor from various pulp making
mills in Wisconsin. It is noted that the ratio deviates widely
from the calculated value, indicating that the oxidation proceeds
much more nearly to completion chemically than it does biochem¬
ically. The maximum deviation from the average is 36% which
does not appear unreasonable when considering the fact that the
wastes are from various sources and may have contained toxic
materials that affected the B.O.D.
TABLE V
C.O.D. and B.O.D. Values of Waste Sulfite Liquor
Unpublished data obtained by Lea (8), at the Sanitary Engi¬
neering Laboratory of the University of Wisconsin, showed that
the C.O.D. to B.O.D. ratio for domestic sewage follows a char¬
acteristic pattern for any one sewage treatment plant. The ratio
is low for raw and settled sewage but increases as the waste is
treated, as shown in Table VI. All determinations were made on
samples obtained from the Nine Springs Treatment Plant at
Madison, Wisconsin.
TABLE VI
C.O.D. to B.O.D. Ratio of Domestic Sewage
Raw domestic sewage. . .
Primary settled effluent. .
Filter effluent .
Activated slude effluent. .
1.61:1
1.45:1
4.55:1
3.85:1
In 12 determinations the maximum deviation from the average
ratio was 19% for raw sewage, 23% for primary effluent and
27 % for activated sludge and trickling filter effluent.
1955] Lawton — Chemical Oxygen Demand Determination 55
From the data given it is apparent that the C.O.D. :B.O.D.
ratio is far from constant when considering various wastes. It
does appear, however, that for any specific waste from one source
the variation in the ratio is usually moderate.
The bulk of the published data and information relating to the
strength of wastes and the effects of wastes on lakes and streams
are based on the B.O.D. determination ; thus the use of the C.O.D.
determination alone results in values that are often inadequate,
unless they can be translated into terms of B.O.D. In many cases
of routine control or survey work the C.O.D. test will give values
that can be satisfactorily translated into terms of B.O.D., pro¬
viding the ratio between the two has been established for the
waste in question. When such use of the C.O.D. test is made the
B. O.D. need be determined only occasionally to check the ratio.
The main advantage resulting from the use of the C.O.D. deter¬
mination in place of the B.O.D. is the great reduction in time
required to obtain results. The C.O.D. test requires about three
hours as compared to 5 days for the B.O.D. The results obtained
by the latter are often of historic value only, and in those cases
where they indicate that conditions are not satisfactory it is
usually far too late to make changes or corrections. With the
C. O.D. determination, however, the results are usually known
quickly enough that corrective measures can be applied, or
changes made to modify the character of the waste. Better con¬
trol of waste disposal and treatment is thus possible when results
are quickly available.
Conclusion
1. The phosphoric acid-sulfuric acid oxidizing mixture as pre¬
viously described is very satisfactory for the C.O.D. determina¬
tion.
2. Silver sulfate catalyzes the reaction and increases the C.O.D.
values of most wastes. The optimum concentration of silver sul¬
fate in the refluxing mixture was found to be 0.15%.
3. The C.O.D. to B.O.D. ratio varies considerably between
types of wastes.
4. The C.O.D. to B.O.D. ratio for any specific waste from one
source varies only moderately.
5. For routine control and survey work the C.O.D. determina¬
tion may often replace the B.O.D. determination providing their
ratio has been established for the particular waste being deter¬
mined.
56 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
References
1. Moore, W. A., Kroner, R. C., and Ruchhoft, C. C., Analytical Chem¬
istry, 21, 953 (1949).
2. Ingols, R. S., and Murray, P. E., Water and Sewage Works, 95, 113
(1948).
3. Standard Methods for the Examination of Water and Sewage, 9th Ed.,
American Public Health Association, New York City, 1946.
4. Rhame, G. A., Water and Sewage Works, 94, 192 (1947).
5. Muers, M. M., J. Soc. Chem. Ind ., 55, 71 T (1936).
6. Ruchhoft, C. C., Analytical Chemistry, 22, 846 (1950).
7. Moore, W. A., Ludzack, F. J., and Ruchhoft, C. C., Analytical Chem¬
istry, 23,1297 (1951).
8. Lea, W. L., Unpublished C.O.D. Data, Sanitary Laboratory, Univ. of
Wisconsin (1950).
DYLAN THOMAS : THE ELEMENTAL POET
Martha Haller Wilde*
Dylan Thomas' songs of the fundamental passions of mankind
were terminated by the poet's death last year. While the Welsh
bard lived critics sometimes felt compelled to warn the reader
against obscurity in his poetry. Such evaluations are likely to
lead us away from a major feature of the greatness of the
poems : their ingredients are actually the staples that have con¬
stituted poetry and life for time immemorial. A close reading of
Thomas' poetry suggests that beneath the difficult syntax and
startling word combinations lies a unity of elemental concepts
and language.
A Thomas poem is “ elemental" in form and content; in fact,
the form is the content, for the order and use of words and verse
techniques cannot be divorced from the meaning. The words and
images are basic and often traditional, the ideas and themes
simple and fundamental. Elemental language is not difficult, aca¬
demic, or four syllabled ; unfamiliar words can usually be traced
to a homely Welsh background. Often the language of the Bible
can be recognized. The fundamental emotional nature of man is
here; the elements are mixed by the associative processes that
characterize the mind of natural man who sees himself as an
extension of the external world.
The associative method of creation in Thomas does not imply
lack of control. Despite strange juxtapositions and syntax, a
unity of feeling is created because the combinations are not prod¬
ucts of a blind “pin the tail on the donkey" game. Such unity
courses through the entire body of Thomas' poetry. As one reads
the poems en masse they become canons of a special, personal
scripture. In his later poetry Thomas himself learned to label the
primary material projected in these scriptures :
Pour elements and five
Senses, and man a spirit in love
There is hardly a poem that does not employ variations upon air,
earth, water, and fire— the four elements. To a young poet the
water is womb water of fertility; as he matures the water be¬
comes the sea of life familiar to all readers of poetry. And the
* University of Wisconsin. The author is indebted to Professor Haskell Block of
the Comparative Literature Department for helpful suggestions and criticisms.
57
58 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
fertility of green earth is inside the young poet, just as the
earth's worm of death is in him; the older poet is able to place
this greenness and the dangers of rock barrenness in the natural
world, still projecting himself so that his later poems have been
called Wordsworthian. The youthful wind is his own breath of
life and self destruction, whereas the wind becomes a cry of
nature in later poems. The fire is the heat of his own veins at
first, but it becomes the potential life-giver and life-taker, as well
as the means of purification through phoenix-like resurrection
and a reminder of hellfire and brimstone religious background.
After the “four elements" come the “five senses" which also
suggest development from self-exploration to exploration of God,
nature, and other creatures. This progress is not from subjec¬
tivity to objectivity, however; the subjective poet's “I" is ever
present, even in the latest volume, In Country Sleep, but the “I"
has become aware of something besides its own body. Early
poems employ the correspondence of nature and body with the
center of action being the latter; later poems employ the same
correspondence but the natural world is the scene. Whereas the
world of seasons and elements was first used to elucidate the
world of the senses, later the senses elucidate the world of
nature. The “Five and Country Senses" work synaesthetically in
“lunar silences," “green thumbs," “nostrils that see her breath
and burn," “nutmeg, civet, and sea-parsley serve the plagued
groom and bride," “moonshine echoing clear," and “the louder
the sun blooms." Sight and sound are the favored senses.
The third label that Thomas provides is “Man a spirit in love."
“Man be my metaphor" betrays the poet's primary theme. The
man is usually himself, a spirit in love with life and out of love
with death. In his own words, then, Thomas gives us a key to his
imagery and the emotions expressed in his poetry. An investiga¬
tion of themes as bound up in imagery will suggest the nature
of the music of personal passions and problems in the elemental
man.
The theme of death pursues Thomas throughout his poetry.
“Death's feather" appears to taunt him in at least two of the
first 18 Poems and in two later poems; even as he describes the
prenatal development of the foetus in the womb and the birth
and development of the child through maturity, we find death
waiting to pull “down the shabby curtains of the skin" in “The
Process of the Weather of the Heart." A symbol from the ex¬
ternal world (weather) is juxtaposed with a symbol of the in¬
ternal world (the heart) ; thus mutability is depicted as the
1955]
Wilde— Dylan Thomas
59
forces of nature are applied to the physical changes in the devel¬
opment of the individual. Life is “the Eastern weather” in
“Before I Knocked” and the archetypal pattern of spring
weather is utilized in “Hold Hard, These Ancient Minutes in the
Cuckoo’s Month.” The poet continues to use this comparison. The
“golden weather” of “We Lying By Seasand” can only be dis¬
turbed by the “rock arrival” of barrenness and death. “Storm
snow, and fountain in the weather of fireworks” tells us some¬
thing of the violence of the sinner of old time revival religion in
“It Is the Sinner’s Dust-tongued Bell.” The “outside weathers”
quarrel with the internal temperament of the animal inside of
“How Shall my Animal.” Thomas sees “the boys of summer in
their ruin,” knows “the message of the winter,” feels the “Octo¬
ber wind” punishing his hair, that “Beginning with doom in the
bulk, the spring unravels,” that “Here In This Spring” the world
wears away, that “love in the frost is pared and wintered by,”
that there is “dark-skinned summer,” “A Winter’s Tale,” and
“Holy Spring.” In all of these poems from the earliest to the
latest there is the simple correlation of the seasons of the year
with the seasons of man’s life and the recognition of what
Jeremy Taylor designated in his conduct book, Holy Dying —
mutability of life where seeds of winter are present even in our
spring fever.
Like the seventeenth century divines, Hamlet, and non-con¬
formist preachers, Thomas is early preoccupied with cadavers,
worms, and the grave. At first the poet is “dumb to tell the
lover’s tomb/ How at my sheet goes the same crooked worm.”
He writes, “I sit and watch the worm beneath my nail/ Wearing
the quick away” and, Hamlet-like, there’s the “rub” ; “The shades
of girls, all flavoured from their shrouds,/ When sunlight goes
are sundered from the worm.” In October he is conscious of the
“wormy” winter”; in dreaming his “genesis” he knows that
limbs “had the measure of the worm” ; the “worm in the scalp”
haunts “All All and All the Dry Worlds Lever,” and finally the
“Worms/ Tell, if at all the winter’s storms/ Or the funeral of
the sun” in “Here in This Spring.” After the early poems the
worms disappear from the limelight.
But death is ever present. Time and the transciency of things
are the poet’s foes. “When like a running grave, time tracks you
down,” as you grow older, you try to catch the physical sensa¬
tions life has to offer before “time/ on track/ Shapes in a cinder
death.” “Who kills my history?/ Time kills me.” “Time let me
play and be”; “Time held me green and dying.” Time smirks
because the poet knows that birth is only the beginning of dying :
60 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
Time is bearing another son.
Kill Time ! She turns in her pain !
The oak is felled in the acorn
And the hawk in the egg kills the wren.
There is nothing more basic than the dust unto dust theme. “The
corpse's lover," “cadaverous gravels," “Man was Cadaver’s
masker . . ." “time’s maggot," “Death hairy heeled," meat on
bones, marrow, and winding sheets become “the atlas-eater with
a jaw for news (in fact death is “all metaphors’’)," “the meat
eating sun," and “the last Samson of your Zodiac." The empha¬
sis on the Elizabethan or Gothic physical obsession with death
has been exchanged for a less traditional kind of imagery.
Death as a personal experience continues to haunt the poet,
but he reaches out also to others. By 1939 Thomas can write “In
Memory of Ann Jones," his feelings about the death of another
person. “The Tombstone told when she died" finds him again
exploring his relationship to an older dead woman. “The Refusal
to Mourn" for a child killed in an air raid, “The Conversation of
Prayers," “Ceremony After Air Raid," and “Among those Killed
was a Man Aged a Hundred" objectify the problem of death,
from which the poet even here cannot disassociate himself.
There is a development away from black pessimism as the
poet matures. Death is always the destroyer; time is always at
his back, but the poet can cry that “Death Shall Have No
Dominion" for life itself goes on. Like the birthday poems, “Holy
Spring" blesses and clings to life despite death’s shadow. Thomas
wrote “Unluckily for Death" and finally that bold but controlled
defiance
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Like Yeats, he refused to acquiesce, and like a seventeenth cen¬
tury counterpart, he wanted to gather his rosebuds while he
might.
The lyric poet whose concern is bluntly sex and death must on
the other side of the coin, then, sing love songs. The melancholic
is balanced by the sanguine humor. Again the technique of cor¬
respondence between microcosm and macrocosm serves him.
John Donne’s countryside of the female body is approximated by
the elements that make the “waters . . . green knots . . . (and)
tides" of “Where Once the Waters of your Face." The sexual
imagery of “Light Breaks Where No Sun Shines" may be under¬
stood by similar elemental correspondence plus a Freudian candle
1955]
Wilde— Dylan Thomas
61
symbol. “I sent my creature scouting on the globe,/ That globe
itself of hair and bone” explains the correspondence in “When
Once the Twilight Locks No Longer.” “Now in the cloud's big
breast lie quiet countries/ Delivered seas my love from her proud
place” in “I Make This in a Warring Absence” and “Love’s coun¬
tries” of “When All My Five and Country Senses See” suggest
correspondence again. In “Ears in the Turrets Hear” Thomas
approaches the subject of the isolated individual in the ivory
tower of “this island bound/ By a thin sea of flesh/ And a bone
coast” by another comparison which forces us to recognize simul¬
taneously the little world of the individual and the big world of
nature. The difficult “Unluckily for Death” carries us to a more
profane kind of comparison; as in Donne’s “Canonization,” sen¬
sual love is described in terms of holy love. “Marriage of the
Virgin” also operates on these two levels.
This use of imagery from Christian belief is basic to the total
Thomas scripture, but, unlike the metaphysical poets of the sev¬
enteenth century and Gerard Manley Hopkins, the Welsh poet
never got far beyond the Jack Donne stage. Thomas’ highest
exultation is never far beyond the elemental man of flesh and
fear.
Even early poetry not directly concerned with man’s aware¬
ness of God contains many Biblical allusions, terms in which to
case less spiritual matter. We are reminded of the Bible and ser¬
monizing of non-conformist Christianity by phrases such as “a
little sabbath with the sun,” “Before I knocked,” “The message
of his dying christ,” “In the beginning,” “my genesis,” “this
bread I break,” “incarnate devil,” “manna up through the dew
of heaven,” “fell from grace,” “Vision and Prayer,” and “Suffer
the heaven’s children through my heartbeat.”
Biblical characters, especially from the Old Testament, are
presented sometimes as straightforward allusion and sometimes
with a special verbal twist reminiscent of Hopkins. Henry Treece
has collected a list of Biblical references that covers all of the
poetry through 1946. Adam, Eve, Eden, and Christ are among
the most prevalent words listed. In the middle period of “Altar-
wise by Owl-Light” Thomas lets fly a volley of Biblical allusions
that includes the juxtaposition of Jacob’s ladder and Adam’s
ribs : “Rung bone and blade, the verticals of Adam/ And, manned
by midnight, Jacob to the stars.” Other startling juxtapositions
include “My camel’s eye will needle through the shroud,” “Two-
gunned Gabriel,” “Jonah’s Moby (with Melville and Jonah
appropriately mixed),” “typsy from salvation’s bottle,” “Adam,
62 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
time’s joker,” and “Jack Christ.” Even in the early poetry he
describes Christ as “Jack of Christ born thorny.” “Ceremony
After a Fire Raid” and “Vision and Prayer” with its emblematic
form might be defended as basically Christian in form and con¬
tent, but even here I feel that Thomas doesn’t transcend a
religion of fear.
In the later poetry of In Country Sleep the poet clings to life,
recollecting mortality rather than immortality. The pastoral
nature of this poetry represents a change in scenery but not in
theme; internal stresses are now objectified. “Fern Hill” paints
a picture of childhood in green and gold and blue which glorify
a country scene. “In Country Sleep” utilizes fairy tale and
mother goose material to create a rustic scene of elemental inno¬
cence — air, water, earth and sun, where still the “Thief” of time
stalks. “Over Sir John’s Hill” suggests symbols and themes of
other modern poets : Hopkins’ falcon Christ with “The hawk on
fire hangs still,” Hart Crane’s frisky children so unaware of
danger in “Voyage I” with “the shrill child’s play,” Stephan
Spender’s “I Hear the Cries of Evening” where gulls, rooks, and
the world are singing a kind of swan song too — where both poets
hear with consternation the cries before the “lunge of night.”
The “Poem on His Birthday” embodies some of the new calm
Thomas gained in an elemental world affirmed by God as the poet
sails “out to die.” “Lament” traces the development of man, the
poet who is Thomas’ metaphor, through the elemental life of the
passions, the life of the medieval humors — -the windy boy, green
leaved, in the swelter of summer, when the blood creeps cold;
but like Yeats the poet wars against the “deadly virtues” that
age would impose upon him. In these later poems the night¬
marish dream imagery of earlier poetry has developed into wi de¬
eyes childhood dreams. Physiological imagery of parts of the
body has been replaced by familiar animal imagery- — turtles, fish,
dogs, mules, and birds — or by natural objects. “In the White
Giant’s Thigh” praises the body and physical life in terms of the
“conceiving moon,” “seed to flow,” “green countries,” and
“breasts full of honey.” Ultimately to the elemental man who
goes “to the elemental town,” death is the greatest fear, love of
life the greatest joy.
Thomas doesn’t seem to distinguish himself and the world
which becomes a projection of the poet’s self. Although this
poetic anthropomorphism juxtaposes macrocosm and microcosm
with startling fluency, the technique itself allies Thomas with
poetic tradition rather than with any violent break with it. Only
1955]
Wilde — Dylan Thomas
63
occasionally does topical language suggest the age in which the
poetry was written. One finds references to war, flying, moving
pictures and modern idiom. Images from tailoring are no newer
than the Fateful sisters or Carlysle.
Concern for their art has given bards throughout the ages
material to forge into poetry. Thomas, self-conscious, is con¬
scious of his art; the tools of his trade work their way into his
imagery. He tells us his subject matter with :
I would be tickled by the rub that is:
Man be my metaphor.
He creates a unity of himself, his art, and nature when his “busy
heart/ Sheds the syllabic blood and drains her words . . . wordy
shapes of women . . . vowelled beeches . . . oaken voices . . .
water's speeches . . . spelling in the scurry . . . hears the dark-
vowelled birds." Further utilization of the poet's tools is found
welded to this explanation of the poetic process :
And from the first declension of the flesh
I learnt man’s tongue, to twist the shapes of thoughts
Into the stony idiom of the brain,
To shade and knit anew the patch of words.
In the beginning was the word, the word
That from the solid bases of the light
Abstracted all the letters of the void;
And from the cloudy bases of the breath
The word flowed up, translating to the heart
First characters of birth and death.
And finally the superb explanation of “In My Craft and Sullen
Art" exercised
for the lovers, their arms
Round the griefs of the ages,
Who pay no praise or wages
Nor heed my craft or art.
The very fact that he wrote for the lovers “their arms / Round
the griefs of the ages" suggests the elemental nature of this
music. Man’s life itself and its tragedies are his topic and meta¬
phor: the foetus, the baby, the child, the lover, the adult who
fears age and wars against death, who is aware of religion and
occasionally attends a revival meeting, the country man who can
hear the “pleasure bird whistle" and feels the rush of life in all
its elemental beauty, in himself and nature. Thomas was an indi¬
vidual bard who sang traditional songs in startling new keys,
who felt synaesthetically and sympathetically and saw the big
world of the elements in immediate correspondence with the little
64 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
world of the single man. He sang in the romantic tradition for
every man with a heart (“I have been told to reason by the
heart”) and auditory apparatus. His images are so bound up with
his meaning that a study of them should reveal his fundamental
preoccupations, not philosophical or religious or social, but with
the core of man — himself. His canons of poetry shout a gradual
emergence from the cacoon of self to winged flight in the natural
world. Although he did not develop in a literary vacuum, he did
not associate himself with any school. His school is the oldest one
— that of the singer of “The Elemental Music.”
EFFECT OF ERADICANTS ON THE MICROBIOLOGICAL
PROPERTIES OF NURSERY SOILS1
D. J. Persidsky and S. A. Wilde2
Current nursery practice employs a large number of toxic
compounds, or eradicants, for the control of destructive insects,
parasitic fungi, and noxious weeds. The application of these
chemicals is not without adverse influence upon the beneficial
soil organisms, state of soil fertility, and the growth of nursery
stock. This study aimed to detect the effects of commonly used
eradicants upon microbiological characteristics of soils which
serve as indicators of unimpaired soil productive capacity.
The trials were conducted in greenhouse cultures with outwash
siliceous sand possessing a reaction of about pH 5.0, exchange
capacity of 1.9 m.e. per 100 g., and 0.7 per cent of organic
matter. The biocides studied included chlordane, benzene hexa-
chloride, calomel, thiosan, aluminum sulfate, formaldehyde,
allyl alcohol, and Stoddard solvent. These were applied at the
rates slightly exceeding those used in current nursery practice.
Such treatments were justified in view of the local concentration
of chemicals resulting from their uneven distribution under con¬
ditions of actual soil management. The following microbiological
characteristics were investigated : the relative density of micro¬
population, rate of cellulose and protein decomposition, nitrifi¬
cation capacity, rate of carbon dioxide evolution, growth of ex¬
cised roots under the influence of volatile substances emitted by
the soil, growth responses of Aspergillus niger, and the develop¬
ment of mycorrhizal short roots. Monterey pine, Pinus radiata ,
was used as a test plant and a carrier of symbiotic organisms.
The extreme poverty of the soil, the use of enclosed containers,
and fluctuating content of soil moisture, unavoidable in watering
by hand, all undoubtedly contributed to the adverse effects of
biocides.
The number of microorganisms present in untreated and
biocide-treated soils was determined on the basis of colonies
developed on the molecular membrane filters (Clark et al., 1951).
1 Contribution from the Soils Department, Wisconsin Agricultural Experiment
Station, Madison, Wisconsin. This study was carried out with the assistance of a
grant from the Research Program on the U.S.S.R. (East European Fund, Inc., New
York City). Publication approved by the Director of the Wisconsin Agricultural
Experiment Station.
2 Research Associate and Professor of Soils, respectively.
65
66 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
The results, presented in Table 1, indicate that all biocides used
appreciably decreased the soil micro-population. The most drastic
reduction of microorganisms was caused by calomel and benzene
hexachloride. The least harmful effect was exerted by chlordane.
The activity of cellulose- and protein-decomposing micro¬
organisms was appraised on the basis of a modified method of
Richard (1945). The soils were incubated for two weeks at 24° C
in a saturated environment and then transferred into petri
dishes together with the standard cellulose and protein cords.
Cultures with cellulose cords were incubated for one week; cul¬
tures with protein cords were incubated for two weeks. The ten¬
sile strength of the cords was recorded by means of a wire ten-
silometer, and the results were expressed in percent of the
tensile strength of sterile cords. The averages of quadruplicate
determinations, given in Table 1, indicate that the processes of
organic matter decomposition are retarded to a marked degree
by application of all eradicants. The reaction of cellulose-decom¬
posers and protein-decomposers suggests that these two groups
of microorganisms vary considerably in their tolerance of dif¬
ferent chemical compounds.
The rate of nitrification was determined by the standard
phenoldisulfonic method using an Evelyn colorimeter. The sam¬
ples were enriched in ammonium sulfate, applied at the rate
equivalent to 400 lbs. per acre, and incubated for 3 weeks at 28°
C. The results, reported in Table 1, show a depressing effect of
all eradicants on the activity of nitrifying bacteria, especially
sharply pronounced in treatments with calomel, Stoddard sol¬
vent, and chlordane.
For the determination of the rate of respiration of treated
soils, 250 g. of air-dry samples were placed in 500 ml Erlen-
meyer flasks, moistened, and incubated for 48 hours at 28° C.
Before the analyses, 0.5 g. of dextrose was added to each culture.
The determination of carbon dioxide evolution was made by the
procedure of Heck (1929), using 48 hour aeration periods. The
results, presented in Table 1, provide a clear-cut picture of the
adverse influence of the biocides.
The effect of volatile substances, emitted by soils, was studied
using Cholodny’s biotest (Cholodny, 1951; Persidsky and Wilde,
1954) . The results of these trials (Table 1) show that the growth
of excised roots of blue lupine is depressed in part by the direct
toxicity of applied chemicals, and in part by the reduction of the
microbiological activity responsible for the release of growth-
promoting volatile substances. As indicated by the average
growth and longevity of roots, calomel and formaldehyde exert
1955]
Persiiky & Wilde— Effect of Eradicants on Soils
67
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TABLE 3
Effect of. Eradicants on the Growth and Mycqtrophic Features of One Year Old Seedlings of Monterey Pine,
Firms radiata , Raised in Sand Cultures. Oven-Dry Weights of Average Seedlings
69
1955] Persidky & Wilde— Effect of Eradicants on Soils
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Figure 1. Growth of 1-0 Pinus radiata seedlings in a coarse sandy soil
treated with different biocides at the indicated rate of application: A —
Untreated soil; B — Chlordane, 10 lbs/A; C — Thiosan, 125 Ibs/A; D — Allyl
alcohol, 50 gal/A; E — Benzene hexachloride (gamma isomer), 1.0 lbs/A;
F — Calomel, 40 lbs/A.
m
The direct influence of different biocides on the development
of fungi was investigated by observing the growth of Aspergillus
niger in a suspension prepared from 20 g. of soil and 30 ml of
nutrient solution (Mehlich, Truog, and Fred, 1933). Inoculated
soils were incubated for 5 days at 35° C. The weights of mycelia,
given in Table 2, indicate that the most unfavorable influence,
reducing the growth of mycelia about 50 per cent, is exerted by
allyl alcohol and calomel. Chlordane proved to be the least toxic.
The triplicate results give rather small deviations from the aver-
70 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, A?is and Letters [Vol. 44
the most unfavorable influence. A strong depressing effect is also
caused by thiosan and benzene hexachloride. Chlordane proved
to be the least inhibiting; this behaviour may have a bearing
upon observations of Voigt (1953) who recorded a high rate of
oxygen uptake by root tips in the presence of chlordane sus¬
pensions.
1955] Persidky & Wilde — Effect of Eradicants on Soils 71
age values and suggest that the direct observations of the
behavior of microorganisms may have considerable value in
analyses of soils treated with biocides and commercial fertilizers
(Wilde and Krumm, 1946).
The effect of eradicants on the growth of nursery stock and
the development of symbiotic mycorrhizal fungi was studied in
sand cultures, using Pinus radiata as the test plant. The results
are presented in Figure 1 and Table 3.
Figure 2. Effect of biocides on the development of root tips or “short roots”
of Pinus radiata seedlings. A and B, normal bifurcate mycorrhizal short
roots with a well developed Hartig net, produced in biocide-free soils or in
the presence of mildly concentrated less toxic biocides; C to F, simple
pedunculate short roots of a “pseudomycorrhizal” type, prevalent in soils
or soil regions containing biocides in a high concentration.
Calomel is the only chemical which conspicuously inhibited
the development of seedlings and drastically disrupted the nor¬
mal top-root ratio. Other biocides at this rate of application did
not decrease significantly the weights of total seedlings, their
tops, or their roots. In some instances, the application of biocides
stimulated the production of dry matter. As a rule, the presence
of eradicants reduced the quantitative top-root ratios. However,
as many previous studies have shown, the appraisal of nursery
72 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
stock on a weight basis may lead to grossly erroneous conclusions
(Wilde and Voigt, 1954). Even a cursory examination of the
seedlings’ morphology (Figure 1) is sufficient to reveal some of
the negative features which the planting material has acquired
under the influence of eradicants. This is particularly true of the
arrested downward growth of roots (benzene hexachloride) ,
undue elongation of tap roots (allyl alcohol, thiosan), and reduc¬
tion of laterals (thiosan, calomel).
A more elaborate analysis of the root systems disclosed fur¬
ther detrimental influences — the reduction of mycorrhizal short
roots. This reduction was usually accompanied by alterations of
the normal bifurcate mycorrhizae into simple pedunculate or
clovate short roots of a “pseudomycorrhiza” type (Figure 2). In
some cases, especially frequent in the presence of calomel and
benzene hexachloride, eradicants caused a complete castration of
mycotrophic organs or their deformation into sessile swellings of
a lobate pattern (Table 3).
The reason why the unfavorable alterations of the morphology
of root systems and mycotrophic organs have not always de¬
pressed the growth of seedlings is understood considering the
special conditions of greenhouse cultures or nursery beds. The
periodic watering of closed containers or treatment of nursery
beds with liquid fertilizers supply root systems with nutrients
in the form of solution and thus eliminate the need for the solid
phase feeding. The intensity of the latter process under natural
conditions is directly related to the size of the absorbing surface
of roots and the participation of symbiotic fungi.
The study in its entirety suggests that the use of eradicants
must be paralleled by a search for ameliorating buffering sub¬
stances which would reduce the biocide-caused deterioration of
plants, beneficial soil organisms, and soil fertility. This task is
of a greater importance in the production of forest nursery stock
than it is in the production of any other crop. Extermination by
drastic means of the undesirable forms of soil life is only a part
of nursery management program ; another and the essential part
of such a program is the production in the same soil of healthy
and vigorous planting material destined to form the future
forests.
Literature Cited
Cholodny, N. G. 1951. Soil atmosphere as a source of organic nutrient
substances for plants. Pedology, 1:16-29.
Clark, H. F., et al. 1951. The membrane filter in sanitary bacteriology.
Public Health Reports. 66:951-977.
1955] Persidky & Wilde— Effect of Eradicants on Soils
73
Heck, A. F. 1929. A method for the determination of total carbon and also
for the estimation of carbon dioxide evolved from soils. Soil Sci. 23:
225-232. Ulus.
Mehlich, A., E. Truog, and E. B. Fred. 1933. The Aspergillus niger method
of measuring available potassium in soil. Soil Sci. 35:259-279.
Persidsky, D. J. and S. A. Wilde. 1954. The effect of volatile substances
released by soil, humus, and composts on the growth of excised roots.
Plant Phys. 29:484-486.
Richard, F. 1945. Der biologische Abbau von Zellulose-und Eiweiss- Test-
schniiren im Boden von Wald- und Rasengesellschaften. Mitt. d.
Schweiz. Anst. F. forst. Versuchswesen. 24:295-397.
Voigt, G. K. 1953. The effects of fungicides, insecticides, herbicides, and
fertilizer salts on the respiration of root tips of tree seedlings. Soil
Sci. Proc. 17:150-152.
Wilde, S. A. and C. J. Krumm. 1946. Allowable concentration of commer¬
cial fertilizer salts in composts used in forest nurseries. Jour. For.
44:662-665.
Wilde, S. A. and G. K. Voigt. 1949. Absorption-transpiration quotient of
nursery stock. Jour. For. 47:643-645.
THE PREHISTORIC ENGINEER-FARMERS OF
CHIHUAHUA
Robert A. McCabe1
Some time in the Sixteenth Century one of the Spanish explor¬
ers traveling through Chihuahua in northern Mexico came upon
a series of ruined buildings and terraces of stone. Then as now
they stand deserted in the eastern foothills of the Sierra Madre
Occidental. It may have been Alvar Nunez Cabeza de Vaca,2 or
Iberra, who perhaps saw the ruins in the period between 1535
and 1565 and called them Casas Grandes or “large houses” and
large they were indeed, for one measured 800 by 250 feet3 and
was six stories high. Who performed the feats of primitive con¬
struction engineering, and why is not known.
To the gold-seeking Spaniard this desolation at the Casas
Grandes was one more bloodless defeat. How much too late were
the conquerors and who were the people they had hoped to sub¬
jugate?
The evidence, filtered through the minds of many historians
and anthropologists, seems to indicate that the builders of the
Casas Grandes in Chihuahua were of the same stock that built
the Casas Grandes found in the Gila valley in Arizona and at
Zuni in New Mexico. The three groups of gigantic adobes are
similar in many respects. The one in Chihuahua appears to be
the southernmost site for this kind of structure. The “town
builders”, as Wallace4 calls them, may have been the “Monte-
zumas” who legends say emigrated southward from the fabled
1 Associate Professor of Forestry and Wildlife Management, University of Wis¬
consin.
1 wish to acknowledge help in the preparation of this manuscript from the fol¬
lowing : A. Starker Leopold for encouragement and advice ; Marie S. McCabe, Mar¬
garet B. Hickey, F. N. and Frances Hamerstrom for editorial criticism ; J. J.
Hickey, A. W. Schorger and R. S. Ellarson for constructive comments ; and Patricia
Murrish for patiently typing several drafts of the manuscript.
2 Carl O. Sauer states : “There is no evidence that they [Alvar Nunez Cabeza de
Vaca’s party] crossed the Sierra Madre of Chihuahua . . . .” p. 16. “The Road to
Cibola.” Ibero— Americana : 3, Univ. Calif. Press, Berkeley, 1932.
Bandelier’s translation, however, has a frontispiece map suggesting that such had
happened. The route shown indicates that Cabeza de Vaca’s group passed through
northern Chihuahua.
Fanny R. Bandelier. The Journey of Alvar Nunez Cabeza de Vaca and his com¬
panions } from Florida to the Pacific 1528-1536. A. S. Barnes & Co., 1905. pp. 231.
3 John Russell Bartlett. Personal Narrative of Explorations and Incidents in
Texas, New Mexico, California, Sonora and Chihuahua. 1854. Vol. 2, D. Appleton
and Co., New York, p. 350.
4 Susan E. Wallace. The La,nd of the Pueblos. John B. Alden Publisher, New
York, 1888, pp. 285.
75
76 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
city of Aztalan to Anhauac in south Mexico. En route they sup¬
posedly stopped at three places: Zuni in New Mexico, in the Gila
valley in Arizona, and at the Casas Grandes in Chihuahua. The
Spanish historian Clavijero is quoted by Cozzens5 as stating of
the Chihuahuan Casas Grandes that they were “similar in every
respect to those of New Mexico.” There seems to be little doubt
that the Casas Grandes in each case were built by people of the
same culture.
The builders of the large houses are thought by some to be
descendents of the cultured and skillful Toltecs, who were also
predecessors of the fierce and war-loving Aztecs. In the end it
may have been the Aztec who waged war on the town builder
and eventually destroyed him.
One clue as to when the Casas Grandes fell is given by Wal¬
lace.6 In her collection is a water vase from the Chihuahua ruins
dated 1864. It has an attached memorandum, part of which
reads: “These Casas Grandes (great houses) were reduced to
ruin by siege in 1070.” This is signed “William Pierson, Amer¬
ican Consul 1873.” No further enlightenment regarding this date
is given us by Susan E. Wallace who owns the vase and who pre¬
sents the original information in her book The Land of the
Pueblos.
The Trincheras
Virtually in the shadow of these house ruins that frustrate the
antiquarian are other archeological features to intrigue the
powers of deductive reasoning. These are numerous stone dams
or walls found in the canyons and on mesas in the surrounding
mountains. These dams or trincheras rather than the Casas
Grandes seem to me to be the more interesting.
In the summer of 1948 I visited northwestern Chihuahua
studying game animals and collecting vertebrate specimens for
the University of Wisconsin.7 Other members of the party, Alden
H. Miller, A. Starker Leopold, and Ward C. Russell, were also
there for the same purpose representing the University of Cali¬
fornia. Floyd Johnson of Colonia Pacheco, our guide and packer,
escorted us to our first camp seven air-line miles southwest of
Colonia Pacheco on the Gavilan River.
Even in this remote and rugged mesa country the check dams
were present on almost every slope. These trincheras are built
6 Samuel Woodworth Cozzens. The Marvellous Country. Lee and Shepard, Boston,
1876, pp. 547.
* Ibid., p. 235.
7 Supported by the University of Wisconsin College of Agriculture and a grant
from the Wisconsin Alumni Research Foundation.
1955] McCabe— Engineer-Farmers of Chihuahua
77
of volcanic stones usually about twice the size of a man's head.
The stones are carefully arranged on and against one another
so as to hold together without mortar or cementing materials.
Principles of engineering were also employed: for example, the
greater the height of the dam, the greater the flare at its base.
The fact that so many still remain today is prima facie evidence
that the sites were well chosen, and the construction more than
adequate. There are perhaps other aspects of construction pro¬
ficiency that could be noted by an eye trained in construction
engineering.
A diagrammatic view of the ruins area near the Galivan River camp.
We are used to thinking in terms of impounded water when¬
ever dams are discussed. The trinchera, however, appears to have
been used as a means of slowing run-off during the heavy rains
of late summer, not so much a water conservation measure as a
means of holding and building soil behind the check-dams. No
trinchera that we saw impounded water.
Aldo Leopold had described these structures to me in great
detail and no doubt colored my thinking on their source and
function. He visited the Gavilan area on a hunting trip in the
winter of 1938. His superb description of the dams and the
ecology of this region appear in an essay, “The Song of the
78 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
Gavilan”.8 Other writers, Carl Lumholtz,9 Henry A. Carey10 and
W. J. McGee,11 have also observed these structures and recorded
their presence. Lumholtz, in his two volume work Unknown
Mexico, gives a rough descriptive outline of where these trin-
cheras occur in northwest Mexico. It appears that our Gavilan
camp was in the center of the trinchera country.
One could not travel long in the Gavilan watershed without
encountering these landmarks. They were built on all types of
slope. Those in narrow steep-sided ravines were necessarily
narrow and taller (8 to 4 feet) than those found in places of low
gradient where the dams were often very long but only 1 to 2
feet high. There was a remnant of a dam about a mile down the
river from our camp where only the anchor ends of the structure
remained. It may well have been part of an impounding wall
that cut across the main river channel. It was the only one to
suggest that such dams may have been employed to hold water.
Frequently the dams were constructed in a series one behind
the other, creating between them a terrace effect reminiscent of
the ancient Inca terraces. In one instance on a large mesa above
our camp I found a series of four dams protruding above the turf
to the height of one stone. Behind these dams was a pear-shaped
meadow of about 10-15 acres surrounded by tall yellow pines.
Another series on the same mesa in a somewhat narrow draw
had spacing between the dams of 8, 16, and 84 feet. This doubling
of the spacing was hardly accidental.
In several instances a large heap of stones of the size used in
dam building was found at the base of a ravine in the side of a
mesa. It is possible, because of the steep slopes, that some time
in the past one of the dams washed out. One needs only to be
caught in the torrential downpours that drench this country dur¬
ing the rainy season to be convinced that such is likely. Once
dislodged the building stones could roll down the ravine like so
much talus. I found no such stones that could have been consid¬
ered natural talus.
This heap of like-sized stones might also be the remains of a
lookout hut built on the mesa edge and washed into the ravine by
the slow erosion of the mesa rim. Several ruins of possible dwell¬
ings or shelters were found at vantage points on mesa tops and
8 Aldo Leopold. A Sand County Almanac, Oxford Univ. Press, New York, 1949,
pp. 149-154.
9 Carl Lumholtz. Unknown Mexico. 2 vols. Charles Scribner’s Sons, New York,
1902.
30 Henry A. Carey. “An analysis of northwestern Chihuahua culture”, Am. Anthro¬
pologist, Vol. 33, 1931.
11 Lumholtz (ibid., p. 22, vol. 1) states that W. J. McGee saw them on his expe¬
dition of 1895. The reference was not explicit and I was unable to locate it for a
direct quotation.
1955] McCabe,— Engineer-Farmers of Chihuahua 79
in each case had a commanding view of the surrounding country.
An excellent picture of such a ruin is presented by Sayles.12 One
ruin in particular overlooked the Gavilan valley. The original
building had been built on a small bench just below the rim of
the tallest mesa. The stone walls had long since fallen apart but
enough remained to show that the single room was about 12 feet
by 12 feet. The roof was probably thatched. Ralph L. Beals13 in
his studies on comparative ethnology of northern Mexico indi¬
cates that thatched roofs were used by the early inhabitants of
this region. It so happens that in the Gavilan area there grows
a tall bunch grass of the genus Muhlenbergia that appears to
be suitable for thatching.
The “Ruins5'
The trincheras and the lookout hut were not, however, the only
evidences of prehistoric peoples in the Gavilan River area. Floyd
Johnson pointed out an area near our camp that he called the
13 Plate 11, p. 14, E. B. Sayles. “An archeological survey of Chihuahua Mexico”,
The Medallion, Gila Pueblo-Globe Arizona Private printing, 1936.
13 p. 138, Ralph L. Beals. “The comparative ethnology of northern Mexico before
1750”, Ibero- Americana : 2, Univ. California Press, Berkeley, 1932.
The “council ring” was made of large angular stones that appeared to have
been quarried. There was no quarry site found within a mile radius of the
ruins area. The stones could have been cut on the spot, but the possibility
seems unlikely.
80 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
“ruins”. Only a discerning eye would have spotted any ruins at
this place. I had hunted quail over the site many times without
having noticed anything peculiar. Once scrutinized, many man¬
made features became evident. The site was a flat place or small
bench on an escarpment 50 feet above the river. The area encom¬
passed about two acres and was irregular in shape. The sheer
walls of the escarpment on the south and southeast quarter
dropped directly into the river, which flows around the promon-
One of the stones bearing hieroglyphics found in the ruins along the Gavilan
River. This stone measured fifteen by twenty inches.
1955] McCabe — Engineer-Farmers of Chihuahua 81
tory. To the southwest and west the bench fell away more gradu¬
ally to a flat or meadow along the river's edge. To the north the
land rose gently and widened to become part of a mesa slope on
which were eleven long dams (each about 150 ft.). On the west
the bench was bounded by a narrow deep-cut ravine. In this
ravine, which dropped sharply as it neared the river, were six
check-dams, but most were in poor condition probably due to the
flash floods of many years. During one downpour I saw this
ravine spew its brown torrent into the middle of the river when
normally the drainage only moistened the stone walls of the cliff.
In the center and above the top terrace was a circle about fif¬
teen feet in diameter of large rectangular stones. These were set
on end and although irregular in height, they formed what I
called a “council ring", (estufas) and this it may well have been.
The stones appeared to have been quarried, which operation must
have involved great difficulties. It would have required the labor
of at least five men to move even the smallest for any distance.
There was no quarrying site within a radius of at least a mile.
The stone ring occupied a commanding position, overlooking the
entire bench. The ring today is almost obscured by grass and live
oaks. For a culture as primitive as this one appears to have been,
and lacking in the use of beasts of burden, this ring of stones is
all the more interesting.
Immediately below the bottom terrace and opposite the council
ring was a large irregular-shaped boulder 68 inches across the
base and 82 inches high, one side of which was covered with
hieroglyphics. Viewing this stone for the first time gave me the
strange feeling that I was trespassing, even in this wild back
country. I dug carefuly at its base to uncover more of the writ¬
ing, as it was obscured by about six inches of silt. Three other
stones were also found bearing inscriptions. These were smaller
(about 15 x 20 inches) and appeared to have been part of a wall.
In several instances the inscription was incomplete, indicating
that the missing part was probably on an adjacent stone. The
three stones were scattered and apparently not matched. There
was no discernible attempt to portray any figures, animate or
inanimate. Some of the inscriptions are similar to those found
on Mesa Verde in pueblos in Colorado.14
Slightly to the west and 50 feet below the terraces out on the
bench proper were three mounds. The upper two were groups of
stones so arranged that they appeared to be the remains of one
large or two small dwellings. They were almost overgrown with
14 Fig-. 3, page 473, J. Walter Fewkes. “A prehistoric Mesa Verde pueblo and its
people”, Annual Report Smithsonian Institution, Wash., D.C., 1916.
82 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
The hieroglyphics found on a large boulder did not appear to contain any
figure writing. Only simple designs covered the stone on one face.
The pottery fragments (left) and part of a mano found in the ruins on the
Gavilan River indicated a maize agriculture had once existed in this area.
1955] McCabe — Engineer-Farmers of Chihuahua 88
grass. The larger building seemed to have had a very small ante¬
room adjoining. This floor plan was noted on several other occa¬
sions along the Gavilan and is shown graphically in Richard J.
Hinton’s Hand-book to Arizona .13 Fragments of pottery and a
broken mano were found near these ruins. Lower on the bench
near the southwest corner of the area was the third mound with
its decadent walls. Here, too, pottery fragments were found. The
interesting feature about this latter site was that the side to the
west, which slopes rapidly toward the flat meadow adjacent to
the river, was supported by a series of short, almost over-lapping
stone dams. I failed to record the number of dams involved, but
as I now recall, they were so close together as to give the
appearance of a cobblestoned hill.
This was a clear-cut example of employing the check-dam
technique to protect a slope that would have otherwise eroded.
It is inspiring to see the effectiveness of this primitive construc¬
tion. These little check-dams and terraces have so efficiently held
the soil and sod that they can be found only by hunting for them
among the yellow gamma grass now covering the slope. These
miniature support-dams were also found on the bench in several
places along its edge.
The Fort
One morning while collecting birds on one of the larger mesas
I chanced upon what was the most imposing of all the ruins
encountered in the Gavilan River area. I called it the “fort”. It
was situated on the corner of a mesa rim where two canyons met
at right angles to each other. Both were deep and steep-sided.
The larger one, when I saw it in the wet season, had a roaring
stream in the bottom. So steep were the sides of this canyon that
even a zigzag ascent among the live oaks would have been dan¬
gerous. The structure, which was in an excellent state of preser¬
vation, was an angular wall shaped like a boomerang. The highest
part (7 feet) of this wall was in the center or elbow of the
boomerang. I paced the total length and found it to be 280 feet
long. There was also an auxilliary wall below the elbow which
was five feet tall and about 1520 feet long. It was impossible to
photograph this lower wall in perspective because it was down-
slope about 35 feet and partly covered with brush. On the flat
above the main wall was the stone remnant of what appeared to
have been a building. It was not unlike those found in the ruins
above our camp.
15 p. 431, Richard J. Hinton. The hand-hook to Arizona , San Francisco, Payot,
Upham and Co., New York, 1878.
84 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
Despite my calling this site a fort, it was probably not used as
such. The wall did not stand above the ground level, but appeared
as a stone facing for the top edge of a steep-sided mesa. There
was no protection from the mesa side, which would have been
most vulnerable to attack. These facts preclude any protection
from this mortarless masonry. What then was this structure?
My guess is that it was built by a family who took pride in their
building craft, and who used their skill to protect the mesa rim
The “fort” wall, part of which is shown here, was 280 feet long and seven
feet at its greatest height. Note the porous nature of the volcanic rock.
on which the dwelling perched. The building was probably built
on this site because it was near several meadows and because of
its commanding view. Today water and fuel would be as easy to
procure had the dwelling been built a short distance from the
canyon rim where no earth-supporting walls would be needed.
It may have been otherwise in the days of the builder.
On another occasion, while attempting to photograph some
wild flowers near our camp site, I climbed a fallen tree in order
to get an overhead view of the blossoms. From a height of about
6 feet I noticed through the reflex lens of my camera that stones
near the flowers were arranged in a crude circle about 50 feet in
diameter, with other rows of stones radiating from the center to
1955] McCabe— Engineer-Farmers of Chihuahua 85
the periphery. These stones were about the size of loaves of
bread, partly buried and grown over in places with grass. This
wagon wheel design was not easily discernible when walking
near it, for I must have passed by or over it 25 times before see¬
ing it in this fresh perspective.
Early Chihuahuan Agriculture
Studying and hunting game animals of this rugged back coun¬
try left me little time for reflection on the archaic masonry that
was seldom out of sight. This much, however, seems obvious:
The dams were in some way associated with the pursuit of agri¬
culture. The presence of pottery fragments in the ruins implies
that the culture was archeologically recent and probably a corn-
bean-squash agriculture.
Were these dams the precursor of modern soil conservation
practices and built to check soil erosion? Perhaps, but only as a
secondary measure. The real reason, as stated earlier and also as
expressed by others, was to catch and hold silt. Most of the coun¬
try, including fairly level mesa tops, is extremely rocky and un¬
suited generally even to hand agriculture ; the formation of soil
from the flaky volcanic rock is reasonably fast and a check-dam
along a run-off course would soon collect enough soil to support
vegetation. Thus behind each trinchera arose a potential field.
As the silt accumulated, a new tier of stones could be added to
the dam. The water basin, or more properly soil basin, thus
formed would mean additional land for the enlarging field.
Seemingly in opposition to this hypothesis is the fact that
many of the dams were in places where there was little chance
to catch or hold enough soil to make dam-building a worthwhile
operation. Likewise there now exist slopes that would make very
good fields if dammed, located near these almost negligible fields
behind well-built dams. Those areas behind dams built on steep
slopes and in narrow canyons are subject to periodic washing or
side cutting during the rainy season. Thus it seems unlikely these
were meant to be fields. It is difficult to guess what other func¬
tion this type of dam may have served.
If the deductions made thus far are correct, then the precon¬
quest farmer of Chihuahua probably practiced soil conservation
before he farmed much of his land. This has an ironic twist, since
we came from a rich and ‘‘enlightened” land to the north where
a small group of soil conservationists are trying to help an
unwilling country prevent its soil, and indirectly its wealth,
from flowing seaward.
86 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
Agriculture in many parts of Mexico is still very primitive.
Before the advent of the horse, which the Spaniards introduced,
we can only surmise that the land was tilled by hand with crude
wooden implements. Were the campesinos (farmers) many or
few in the region of the abundant trincheras ? The comparatively
The check-dams or trincheras found in many places in northern Chihuahua
were well built structures. The meadows behind these dams were usually
grown to several species of bunch grass. (Photo by Aldo Leopold)
meager evidence of permanent dwellings and the likelihood that
the fertility in the thin volcanic soil would be dissipated after a
few years of corn and bean agriculture indicate the farmers may
have been few in number or partially nomadic in nature.
A simple fallow rotation of many small fields, up and down a
watershed could have insured better fertility and account for the
1955] McCabe— Engineer-Farmers of Chihuahua
87
tremendous number of check-dams throughout northwestern
Chihuahua.
The scarcity of dwellings, however, could mean the farmers
spent only the growing season near their fields and returned to
a central point after the harvest. This would also explain the
ruins of fair-sized villages found in this region which may in
some way be associated with the Casas Grandes.
No culture is as difficult to trace or to deal with as that of
nomadic or war-scattered peoples. Could our engineer-farmers
Metate and skull of a prehistoric inhabitant of the Casas Grandes region in
Northern Chihuahua. (Property of Floyd Johnson of Colonia Pacheco)
have been such a group? If so, it matters little, for whatever
their nature, they reveal a history and teach their lessons with
piles of little stones on the sides of remote mountains.
Deer and the Trinchera Farmer
Whether the farmers were few or many, they probably had
one problem in common if present and pristine conditions are
comparable, namely how were their many small fields protected
from the depredations of deer. Today the whitetail deer on the
Gavilan can be considered numerous, but were they present in
years past or at the time of the trinchera builder? The situation
88 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
during a hunting trip by Aldo Leopold in 1938 was generally the
same as we found it in 1948.
Carl Lumholtz16 who traveled extensively in all parts of
Mexico, has this to say of the Gavilan watershed in 1891 : “Never
have I been at any place where deer were so plentiful.” It seems
highly unlikely that deer were absent in preconquest times,
although Obregon’ s History of 16th Century Explorations in
Western America 17 records how the expedition of Francisco de
Iberra passed through this region in 1565-66 and almost starved
to death, subsisting on bitter acorns, horse flesh and in despera¬
tion on shoes, hides and dirty leather straps. However, a noisy,
marching army of men untrained in mountain hunting would
likely not see a deer where deer might be relatively abundant.
In this same narrative of Iberra’s suffering, Obregon mentions
Indians who live on “all sorts of game and wild reptiles” ; deer
per se, are not mentioned.
Supporting the thesis that deer were present is the account by
Cabeza de Vaca,18 who with several white men and a large group
of Indians passed through this same region19 about 1533. He
writes that on one occasion a small group of Indians armed with
bows and arrows went into the hills and returned at nightfall
with over 20 deer. Another method of taking deer mentioned by
Beals20 was to poison water holes used by deer. Cabeza de Vaca,
was an educated white man who traveled and lived like an
Indian. His narrative indicates that he was deer conscious prin¬
cipally because of the food value. Frequent mention is made of
deer in the late stages of his journey when he crossed Sonora
(and Chihuahua?).
A final word on the occurrence of deer in this area during the
Sixteenth Century comes from Bandelier’s translation of Cabeza
de Vaca’s narrative:
16 Ibid., p. 53.
17 George Peter Hammond and Agapito Rey (translation). Obregon’ s History of
16th Century Explorations in Western America. Wetzel Publishing Co., Los Angeles,
California, 1928.
™Ibid., p. 143.
19 Hubert H. Bancroft’s History of Arizona and New Mexico (San Francisco,
1889) and Bandelier, 1905, op. cit., indicate that Cabeza de Vaca passed in a
westerly direction very c’ose to the Gavilan River. Cleve Hallenbeck’s Alvar Nunez
Cabeza de Vaca: The Journey and Route of the First European to cross the Con¬
tinent of North America 153Jt-15S6 (The Arthur H. Clark Co., Glendale, Calif., 1940,
pp. 326) reviews the various routes that historians say Nunez was supposed to have
taken. I conclude from his route map opposite page 306 that the route proposed by
Sauer (Ibid., 1932) and Hallenbeck collectively best fitted the early accounts as
presented. This however does not effect the text hypothesis since the route of Sauer
and Hallenbeck passes northwest of the hairpin turn in the Bavispe River at a
point about 80 air-line miles from the Gavilan watershed. The country topograph¬
ically, botanically and game wise is generally comparable.
30 Ibid., p. 103.
1955] McCabe — Engineer-Farmers of Chihuahua 89
“In the village where they had given us the emeralds, they
also gave Dorantes [one of the party] over six hundred
hearts of deer, opened, of which they kept always a great
store for eating. For this reason we gave to their settlement
the name of Village of the hearts’.”
Thus in this early period of recorded history it would seem
that the native populus kept the deer thinned down to a point
where “trinchera-fields”, if they existed, were not molested.
While not wholly comparable, even today where the itinerant
lumber camp stays for a short period the deer are extirpated
from the surrounding area. This observation I recorded from
Floyd Johnson, our guide.
In no case in the several early accounts of this area by Spanish
explorers is mention made of the trinchera or check-dam.
The evidence, meager as it is, seems to indicate that deer and
trinchera fields occurred together but that the campesinos de la
trincheras were not wholly dependent on agriculture. The bow
and arrow, spear, or similar weapon may have been used to help
provide the bulk of the edible protein and in so doing would
have eliminated the problem of deer depredation. If the trees of
our forests today were as important to all Americans as the corn
behind the trinchera was to its planter we would waste no time
in dealing with our present overpopulations of deer.
The western slope of the Sierra Madre in northern Mexico still
retains much of its wild and primitive appeal for the naturalist.
A. S. Leopold records this eloquently in his “Adios Gavilan”.21
We cannot be complacent and assume that a wilderness will
remain forever wild and untouched. Even as this is written, bat¬
tered lumber trucks rumble over widened donkey trails bringing
saws and sawyers to this virgin wilderness.
The proverbial handwriting on the wall came to our camp
with the rains. The lumbering operations just beginning in the
headwaters of the Gavilan River changed our stream, where
rainbow trout could be seen in the bottom of four-foot pools, into
an ugly brown torrent that rose three feet in a matter of minutes.
Such ushering of soil to the sea is rivaled only by some of the
most abused watersheds north of the border.
I cannot here discuss the “merits” of logging this region, but
even a layman could see that this very young soil going down¬
stream was the result of the ax and saw. The loss of topsoil is
blood letting for this already soil-poor area. The loss of game
and the changes in flora and fauna will doubtless follow. The
21 Pacific Discovery, Vol. 2, 1949, pp. 4-13.
90 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
erosion which now threatens to scar these hills will inevitably
wash away the last vestiges of check-dams and stone ruins.
The teeth of the cow are not unlike the teeth of a saw in
destroying wilderness. The old dung and a host of weeds near
our camp gave mute witness to the fact that the cow and herds¬
man had at least reconnoitered the Gavilan valley. What will
come after lumbering, after grazing to a land that can afford
neither?
I am sorry in the knowledge that the tall pines and the mesas
must part company and that in turn the hills may wither, the
clear streams become dry creek beds, and the trinchera stones
slide downhill. But I am sorrier still for those who have had no
opportunity to see this magnificent wilderness in the period
between the Spaniards and the sawyers.
A HARVARD GRADUATE GOES WEST : ROBERT ADAMS
COKER AND THE HIGHLAND SCHOOL IN THE 1830’s
Robert H. Irrmann
Associate Professor of History, Archivist of the College,
Beloit College
Robert Adams Coker of West Newbury, Massachusetts, born
March 19, 1807, was a member of the Harvard College Class of
1831, one of the lesser lights who flickered briefly and then “went
out” to an early grave in March of 1833. The Class of 1831 fos¬
tered some of the greatest names in the mid-19th century, among
them Thomas Gold Appleton, Francis Gardner Jr., John Hopkins
Morison, John Lothrop Motley, and perhaps above all, Wendell
Phillips. Robert Coker was not of their calibre; his brief life,
post-Harvard, might well be termed the “short and simple annals
of the poor in health”. Suffering from consumption while in
Harvard College, he was dead within little more than eighteen
months of his graduation.
A mathematics major in college, Coker did what so many
scholars were forced to do to make their way through college:
he “kept school” at intervals, in accord with the agreement of
the Government of Harvard College. On November 3, 1828, early
in his sophomore year, Coker with many others in his class was
given leave “to keep school agreeably to the regulations voted
October 26th . . .”1 Upon his graduation, he pursued his profes¬
sion as a teacher of mathematics, and for a time taught in an
academy in Francestown, New Hampshire, in the winter and
1 Harvard College: Records of the Immediate Government of Harvard College ,
Volume X ( Septr . 1822), (Manuscript records. Harvard College Archives, Cam¬
bridge, Massachusetts), October 28, 1828: “Application for leave to keep school to
be made on or before Monday, Nov. 3 & notice to this purpose to be given to the
several classes tomorrow morning . . .
“It was voted, that the following directions be printed, and a copy put into the
hands of each student who has to keep school, viz.
“Students, who are entitled to the privilege by their diligence and good conduct,
and whose circumstances are such as to require it, are allowed to keep school for
a time not exceeding ten weeks, including the winter vacation.
“Those to whom this privilege is granted, are required to report themselves to
the presiding officer on the day of their return to college, with a certificate, stating
the time during which they were emp’oyed in the School ; also to be prepared to
pass an examination in all those studies, which their class shall have gone over,
which are necessary to their proceeding on with them in their future studies.
“If any student shall exceed the term of ten weeks, he is required to be exam¬
ined in all the studies of his class during the whole time of his absence, and if he
fail to pass a satisfactory examination, his connexion with the college shall cease."
Faculty Records, X. pp. 189-190.
Coker was granted leave to teach, November 3, 1828. Ibid X, 191. He “kept
school” at Lexington, Massachusetts.
91
92 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
spring of 1831-1832, 2 but looked meanwhile for greener aca¬
demic pastures, and greater remuneration. Apparently the
chronic discontent of teachers seized upon Coker in his term at
Francestown, and he thought for a moment, not of the pleasant
pasture of another academy, but of the lure of the green
meadows of the great West and its Pacific prospects. His class¬
mate George Coombs was the recipient of one of his plaints, and
wrote in reply:
“. . . I am sorry to find that you are a teacher with the
Oregon mania. I trust that you will soon recover from it.
It is a vile disaster, and ‘many a good tall fellow has laid
low\ You really do not seriously think of taking up your
connexion with civilized life, and transporting yourself
thousands of miles into a waste howling wilderness. What
will you do when you get there? What will your literature
and your science avail you among the wild beasts, and
savages? There are thousands of one half your sense and
erudition, and would make as good perhaps better, colonists
than yourself. Stay then where your knowledge and under¬
standing may be turned to some profit. If you feel any dis¬
position to roam, come down here to New Bedford . . .”3
But the nearer prospect of a “western” academy was already
in sight. In early April, 1832, Coker had received a letter from
his close friend and classmate, William Austin Jr., then teaching
in Brookline,4 “. . . by which I learn that a gentleman by the
name of Watson has written to Mr. Thayer for an instructor in
Mathematics; & that Mr. Thayer has written to him in favor of
me. Salary $500 & boarded &c.”5 Whatever Coker’s other in¬
terests might be in this spring of 1832, and he was attracted by
several other prospects, by May his future began to be apparent ;
it was to be cast in the mold of the Highland School,6 the
2 Robert Adams Coker to Susan A. Coker, Francestown, N.H., November 3, 1831.
Mss. letter in the possession of the author.
3 George C. Coombs to Robert Adams Coker, New Bedford, Mass., May 6, 1832.
Mss. letter in the possession of the author.
4 William Austin to Robert A. Coker, Boston, Sep. 24th, 1831. Mss. letter in the
possession of the author.
5 Commentarium Comprehendens Compendia et Notationes, De Personia et Libris
de Rebus &c. 16 Ka1 . Jun. MDCCCXXVI. (The Diary of Robert Adams Coker),
(Two Volumes, Manuscript in the Harvard College Archives), Journal &c., 1832,
Volume II, p. 91, entry for the week of April 8, 1832.
6 “In the evening (Wednesday) I received a letter from my chum (William
Austin) by which it appears probable that I sha1! obtain the place of Instr. in
Math, in the Highland School. By this letter, also I learned of my rank at Cam¬
bridge in Mathematics. It seems that Mr. Watson, Principal of the Highland School
wrote to Benj. Pierce, now Tutor in Math, at Harvard, to enquire my ‘coregiate
merits’. Pierce referred to the President’s papers, & as he told Austin, I had the
highest mark in the Mathematical Department. This is higher than I expect, for I
was so low in the languages that I thought probable that I was placed as low as
the third in Mathematics. I never enquired my rank, & was somewhat surprised at
the justice of the Government.” Diary, II, 96, entry for the week of May 14, 1832.
1955]
Irrmann — Robert Adams Coker
93
“western” academy he had learned of through William Austin’s
letter.
Whatever his several interests might be, Robert Adams
Coker’s first love was mathematics, if we can accept the confes¬
sions of his own pen. “Last week I have read from the beginning
of the Application of Algebra to Geometry to nearly the end of
the chapter on the Ellipse, except a short chapter on the circle
which I read last week. I find it very interesting. I find that I
can at present take up Mathematics with relish when no other
works charm — even newspapers and novels are dry and incipid
(sic) when compared with these.”7 Also, “the past week I have
finished reading the Application of Alg. to Geometry. I find in it
many beauties which escaped me the first time it was read.”8
Soon that interest and talent, if such it was, was to be put to the
service of young scholars in the “west”, for Coker left Frances-
town later in May, and was home in West Newbury about the
18th, and was soon to have confirmation from the Highland
School.9 By June 10th the overtures to the Highland School were
concluded: alea jacta est! “Monday . . . received a letter from
Mr. Watson N.Y. in answer to mine of the 24 ult., in which I
accepted his offer.”10 Mr. Watson’s letter is extant; it failed to
give Robert Coker intimation of the many vexations that were
to be his out on the banks of the Hudson across the river from
West Point:
“Dear Sir, in compliance with your request, I acknowledge
the receipt of your favour of the 24th inst . (I) presume
that you distinctly understand, that besides taking charge
of the Mathl. department, we shall expect your assistance
in such other modes as we may desire, & as may be in your
power; for the business of instruction, important as it is,
7 Coker’s failure to concentrate upon, or find pleasure in, anything- but his beloved
mathematics mig-ht be explained by his concern and fear for his health. He was
confiding- to his Diary of his possible ill health. “May 13. Monday, raised blood all
day — perhaps 4 or 5 spoonfuls in all.” “The last part of last week & first part (of
this?) I have raised more blood than in the same length of time previously. I can¬
not think I am in a consumption yet as this is the only simpton (sic), tho’ it will
probably terminate in one soon unless something can be done.” Page 95. Diary , II,
93-94, entries for week of May 6, 1832.
8 Diary, II, 94, entry for the week of May 13, 1832.
* Ibid., II, 98, entries for the weeks of May 14, 27, 1832. Coker’s Diary for the
week of May 21, 1832, details the steps by which his commitment to John Lee
Watson and the Highland School was made: “. . . Tuesday (May 22) rode to Crane-
neck ; & as I returned I called at the Post Office & found that a letter had come
for me & been sent to my father’s. When I reached home I found a double letter
from my chum (William Austin) then on a visit to Groton. The letter from Austin
contained one from John Lee Watson, Highland School, Near Cold Spring. Putnam
Co., N.Y., offering me $500 per annum and Board, wood, lights, & (sic) if I would
take charge of the Mathematical department in the Highland School. Thursday,
concluded to accept on Mr. Watson’s proposal & wrote him an intimation of my
acceptance ; . . .” Diary, II, 98, West Newbury, entry for the week of May 21, 1832.
10 Diary, II, 99, entry for Monday, June 10, 1832.
94 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
forms but a part of our labours ; & we wish to secure your
aid in the performance of other duties, in which, as a resi¬
dent of our family, you can participate, with, probably, little
inconvenience to yourself, and much advantage to us. . . S’11
In the latter part of June, Robert Coker was getting ready to
go westward to the Hudson, to take up his duties at the Highland
School. In Boston to shop, he bought Grind’s Problems and the
Economical Atlass. For the journey he also bought a black
leather-covered trunk with a “plait (sic) on containing my name
&c for $5.50.”12 He was being prepared in another way, should
he care to heed the advice, through a letter from his good friend
Austin, possibly mirroring advice which Austin found useful in
his post that past year in Brookline :
“We were talking about things to be observed on first
appearance in N.Y. But we did not conclude upon anything
in particular. I found, however, at Brookline the following
very serviceable viz. Eyes open, ears open, mouth shut the
first two or three weeks and wonder at nothing the first two
or three months. This for the meridian of Brookline — -may
suit other parts of N. England. Don’t know about N.Y. And
so I am, hoping you success . . .”13
The adventure was about to begin ! On or about the Fourth of
July, Robert Coker took the Haverhill stage and started for Phil-
ipstown, New York. Intending originally to go by way of New
York, news of the great cholera epidemic there altered his plans,
and sent him via Albany.14 It was undoubtedly for the best, for
Coker must have lacked the elan that seems to have characterized
his classmate Simmons’s attitude toward that scourge of New
York city, at least as Simmons described his reaction in 1833:
“The Cholera entered New York early in July 1832. For
several weeks it probably took off two hundred daily. Every
death, that came to my knowledge, was clearly attributable
to one or more of three occasions— -pre-disposition, from ill
health or fright,— intemperate exposure of some kind, — or
delay in ye (sic) application of remedies. A hundred thou¬
sand people ran away in a weeke (sic) ; and ye half emptied
streets, & shut or silent shops, presented a mere skeleton on
ye late flushed & heaving metropolis. Under this reign of
terror, I lived quite recklessly ‘about town’, — r, following ye
u John Lee Watson to Robert Adams Coker, Highland School, Philipstown (New
York), May 30, 1832. Mss. letter in the possession of the author.
12 Diary, II, 101. entry for the week of June 24, 1832.
13 William Austin Jr. to Robert A. Coker, Brookline, Mass., June 29, 1832. Mss.
letter in the possession of the author.
14 Diary, II, 102, entry for the week of July 8, 1832.
1955]
Irrmann— Robert Adams Coker
95
devices of my own heart, & resolutely defending, from
nervous thrills, melancholic humors, & ye discipline of
jejune regimina, my very sane and faithful body.”15
Fearing, rightly the great epidemic then raging, Coker went
overland by stage to Troy, and then by riverboat down the Hud¬
son to West Point. It took three days to cross Massachusetts by
stage, and a fourth to go by boat from Troy to the Point. The
notation in the Diary concludes: “ Arrived at West Point 7 P.M.
Payed for landing luggage 12% cts; for carrying to the office
6% & for carrying from thence to the Hotel! 37% cts. As it was
late & I had not found time to shave since I started from Lowell,
I determined to put up at the Hotell till Monday. Bill at the
Hotell $3.00. Saw the Cadetts parade. They parade and exercise
on the Sabbath. There was much company at the point. Accom¬
modations good. Sunday took notes of my journey & Expenses
from leaving West Newbury to my arrival at West Point
$12. 92.”16
Had Coker gone originally as planned, he would have come up
the Hudson from New York city, and seen the river unfold with
its sights on either side as anticipated by Vanderwater’s Pocket
Manual for Travellers on the Hudson River: “After proceeding
about a mile beyond the (West Point) landing, by taking a retro¬
spect, the traveller has a magnificent view of the Military
Academy , and all the buildings appertaining thereto. There are
nine brick buildings for the officers and professors. The view of
the Point from this distance is highly imposing. Mr. Samuel
Gouverneur has a beautiful residence opposite West Point. The
Highland School is located half a mile north. It was commenced
in 1830, and is now becoming very popular.”17 On Monday, July
9th, Robert Coker crossed from the Point to the Highland School,
where, he recounts, “I arrived about 10 or 11 A.M. Mr. Watson
was at the door, & I gave him my letter of introduction, & we
walked into the house.”18 Coker was quickly introduced to the
“family” of the Highland School, Watsons, and “Mr. Ellis,
instructor in drawing & French.”
35 Harvard College . . . Records of the Class of 1831 (Mss. Class Book, 1831),
Holograph Biography of William Hammatt Simmons, October, 1833, pp. 504—505.
18 Diary, II, 108, entry for the week of July 8, 1832 (detailing- the events of the
preceding week). Only in rare instances did Coker put personal thoug-hts or private
comments on family or friends upon the pag-es of his Diary. Yet he committed volu¬
minous detail on impersonal matters to the pages of the same volume, and left a
very lengthy word-picture of his journey by stage across Western Massachusetts to
Troy, and then by the river to Newburgh. Diary, II, 103-108.
17 R. Vanderwater: The Tourist, or Pocket Manual for Travellers on the Hudson
River , The Western Canal and Stage Road to Niagara Falls down Lake Ontario
and the St. Lawrence to Montreal and Quebec . . . , p. 23.
18 Diary, II, 109, entry for the week of July 15, 1832.
96 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
For a few days Coker had a chance to shake himself down
before the duties of the term began. He described both the site
and the school to his family in his first letter home to West
Newbury:
“Well, I have found the place, and a fine situation it is. It
can be seen to good advantage as you pass on the river. We
are 180 feet above the river and scarcely a house in sight
except those of West Point, and West Point Foundery, the
latter of which is on our side of the river and about a mile
from us. Our situation is as retired as any in West Newbury.
Our house shows finely as you pass on the river; and also
from West Point. It stands on a long narrow plain of per¬
haps 30 acres, notched into the side of the mountain, as you
would call our hills by that name if you had them in Massa¬
chusetts. From the edge of this plain the bank descends to
the shore of the river so abruptly that the tops of the large
trees with which it is covered are scarcely above the level
of our feet. From behind the hill rises to a very great height.
“We live among the mountains, & with the exception of the
Hudson we see nothing but mountains. They are however
perfectly covered with trees which gives them at this season
a lovely and beautiful appearance. At this moment (a real
N.E. storm) the tops of the mountains are far above the
clouds. Indeed the clouds are seen almost every day rolling
about the tops & sides of the hills. A few rods from the
house is a brook which runs down the side of the mountain
called Indian Brook, where there is a beautiful cascade, the
water falling about 20 feet. As you stand at the foot of it
the trees are so thick that you cannot see 10 rods in any
direction except directly upward ; & indeed the tops of the
trees meet so nearly that the sun can scarcely visit the place
at all. . . .
“As the scholars have not returned I cannot say anything of
the school. Last term they had 24 scholars & may have 30
this perhaps. The school began with one scholar. They do
not want more than 25. Five or six of the scholars were
from Massachusetts last term. . . . Mr. W’s (Watson)
family appear to be a good one & we have plenty of toasted
bread. The post office is a mile & a half off ; but we have a
mail from the school to the office every day, so it is the same
as if the Post Office were kept in the House. We have 4 in¬
structors to take care of the 25 or 30 boys.”19
19 Robert Adams Coker to John Coker, Highland School, July 11-16, 1832. Mss.
letter in the possession of the author. Paragraphing mine. The letter was mailed
on the 16th; witness the Diary . II. 109, entry for the week of July 22, 1832: “Mon¬
day 16 our school began. . . . Walked to Cold Spring . . . Put a letter in the Office
for home. . . .”
1955]
Irrmann — Robert Adams Coker
97
The new mathematics instructor had a week of leisure to be¬
come acquainted with the school, with the Watsons, and with the
surrounding countryside.20 His brief summary in the Diary reads
thus : . the . . . week has been spent in reading Mathematics,
viewing the scenery, looking over Newspapers, reviews, etc.”21
The natural scene fascinated Coker; man’s urbanization, in this
instance, repelled him. “This week I have examined a waterfall
in our vicinity where the water falls, I should think, 20 feet. The
banks on either side are very high and steep, being covered with
tall trees which completely excluded the sun even at noonday.
It is the most wild and beautiful spot I ever saw. Visited Cold
Spring in company with Mr. Watson. It is a filthy and forbidding
place.”22 Then the informality of the period of familiarization
was over, and the routine commenced. “Monday 16 our school
began. Only 12 or 14 scholars were returned. I have four classes
in Mathematics and one in reading each day, one hour each and
one in geography twice-a-week.” But the routine did not cut off
all leisure time ; Coker still found occasions for his walks and his
explorations, and gained welcome relief from the classroom when
he “discovered a small place of cleared land a % of a mile from
our house where blackberries are most abundant & I have paid
a semi-diurnal visit almost every day this last week. It is entirely
surrounded with woods & free from any interruption from wing¬
less birds. I have spent a very pleasant week.”23
In his Diary, Coker makes but infrequent references to his
work and to his students; in those letters of his that survive,
there are fewer still. His curiosity was for the countryside, and
in his Diary and occasionally in his letters he reveals the region
around West Point and Cold Spring as he saw it more than 120
years ago:
“Saturday (July 28th) went to Fort Putnam with Mr. Ellis.
It is about 20 minutes walk from the Hotell at the Point.
The Fort is in a very dilapidated condition ; but it must have
been impregnable when well manned. . . . The view from the
fort is extensive and beautiful. As you look towards the east
you see the Hudson before you covered with vessels and
boats, which opening a way thro’ the mountains affords a
prospect to the north bounded only by the horizon, while
at your feet and between you and the river lies the Plain of
West Point. . . . Direct your eye to the opposite banks you
so Ibid.
21 Diary, II, 109, entry for the week of July 15, 1832, referring1, of course, as was
Coker’s custom, to the events of the preceding- week.
22 Ibid.
23 Diary, II, 109-110, entry for the week of July 22, 1832.
98 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
may see Cold Spring at the water’s edge, and higher up the
hills you have a fine prospect of the Highland School, which
with one other seat of a gentleman, is the only house of any
significance in sight on the hills . .. .”24
Robert Adams Coker was a sick and a lonely man in this
sojourn out on the Hudson; already dying of tuberculosis, he
suspected it, but knew it not for certain. In August of 1832 he
began to cough blood once again, and at that point in his Diary,
brought his medical history up to date in great detail, as if the
mere expression of it could allay some of the fear involved. Any¬
one reading this account a century and a quarter later still ex¬
periences a catch in the throat for this sickening young man.
“Saturday morning, when I first waked up & went to move in
the bed I had a slight tendency to cough, which brought up a
mouthful of blood. It came up extremely easy as it always has
... I am not aware that I have raised any since I arrived here
till Saturday, i.e. yesterday. I now think these three extraordi¬
nary raisings have been caused by overexertion in talking &
reading aloud, & I must be more careful for the future & hope,
Dei Gratia, I shall recover. Oh! Domine, ad jura mihi. I have
already refrained very much from long talking or earnest ; but I
now find that any great exercion (sic) in talking is sure to be
followed by bleeding. . . .”25
Against this background of personal illness, Coker “kept
school”. His entry for the week of August 12th, recording the
events of the week preceding, runs as follows: “Monday morn¬
ing, felt sick, eyesight grew dim, something passed my bowels
and felt better. Took but a slight breakfast. . . . Saturday walked
to Cold Spring, where I took tea and came home in a boat. This
week I have slept in the Attic. A wretched way of sleeping —
for we are obliged to go to bed at 9.”26
The following week Coker was again saddled with supervising
the “evening school from 7% to Sleeping in the Attic, of
course, was doing proctor’s duty on the “scholars”; so too was
keeping the evening school. Coker was thus learning in detail
the assumption that John Lee Watson had made in vague terms
in his hiring letter; as Mr. Watson had pointed out, “. . . the
business of instruction, important as it is, forms but a part of
our labours ; & we wish to secure your aid in the performance of
34 Ibid., II, 110-111, entry for the week of July 29, 1832.
35 Diary, II, 111-116, entry for the week of August 5, 1832. This detailed account
carries Coker’s “medical” history from ca. 1827 down to early August of 1832.
26 Ibid., II, 116, entry for the week of August 12, 1832.
1955]
I rrmann— Robert Adams Coker
99
other duties, in which, as a resident of our family, you can
participate.”27
As the month of August drew toward its close, the generally
pleasant life of the Highland School went forward. Coker went
out riding on occasion with Mr. Watson;28 he still was not yet
aware of the implications each time such an invitation was ex¬
tended. The shattering of the illusion was soon to follow. Obvi¬
ously the mathematics teacher was feeling better, physically and
mentally, for he was finding pleasure and an awakened moral
indignation in reading other than mathematical tracts and texts.
“Finished the Memoirs of Josephine. She was a deceitful mis¬
creant & so ambitious in pleasing everyone that she would
attempt it without the least regard to principle. By her own
account she married Buonaparte without liking him, yet when
she found herself cast off she found it necessary to go through
the usual ceremony of fainting, etc. But fortunately Buonaparte
was not to be moved by any of her wiles. He knew her too well.”29
In this fall of 1832, Coker recorded an almost frenetic pre¬
occupation with the longing and search for fresh fruit. Almost
every weekly entry in the Diary records his looking for, or pur¬
chase of, some form of fruit. In mid-August he notes that he
“found a great plenty of blackberries this week, & a few whortle¬
berries.”30 September's first entry records the finding of a “fine
plate of mush melon in my room. Oh ! delicious repast. It is the
first fruit I have tasted this season except berries which I picked
myself.”31 The following week offered another surprise: “Tues¬
day I found on my table, when I returned to my room after
dinner, two peaches, &e. These being the first cultivated fruit
that I have seen I literally leaped for joy after recovering from
the anti-motive effects of surprise. They were sent by Mrs. E.
Watson.”32 The following week Robert Coker took a Saturday
walk down to Cold Spring, “where I found some very ordinary
sweet apples, these being the only fruit of any kind in the place
I bought a couple & they tasted really good for want of some¬
thing better.”-33 Within two weeks the craving was again so press¬
ing that Coker went back to Cold Spring: “Tuesday walked to
27 See footnote #11, Watson to Coker, page 4.
28 Diary, II, 117, entry for the week of August 26, 1832.
29 Ibid. That this was probably the “golden era" of Coker’s well being is attested
by his somewhat non-professional reading in this period. In addition to Josephine,
he was enjoying Washington Irving’s The Companion of Columbus , Anastasius,
Turner’s Sacred History of the World , The Vicar of Wakefield , and a volume on
Animal Physiology. Diary, II, 116, 117-118, 119, 122.
80 Diary, II, 116, entry for the week of August 19, 1832.
31 Ibid., II. 118, entry for the week of September 2, 1832.
32 Diary, II, 118, entry for the week of September 9, 1832.
33 Ibid., II, 119, entry for the week of September 16, 1832.
100 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
Cold Spring after school, on purpose to get some fruit. Found
nothing but apples, of which I bought 14, which was as many as
I could conveniently carry. Saturday walked to Cold Spring for
fruit but could find none worth bringing home.”34 Week after
week the pattern was repeated.85
On one occasion this search for fruit produced an experience
that Coker recorded with wit and the vividness of an etcher's
delineation :
“Monday (October 14) walked to Cold Spring for fruit, but
found none. Tuesday walked to a farm house 1 mile or so
distant to get fruit. Saw a waggon (sic) at the door which
indicated company within; however knocked at the door,
and was answered by a “come in”. Opened the door and
found a room full of women and one man with a startling
pair of green spectacles and quite ministerial in appearance.
Enquired for pears or apples, and succeeded in getting a
dozen very good apples. While the woman was gathering the
apples, the green eyed knight began, sans ceremony, ‘I ob¬
serve you wear glasses, is it on account of inflammation in
the eyes' ? This was a real poser, but being in a good humor
at the prospect of some fruit, I civilly told the man that such
was not the cause of my donning specs. He, however, was
not quite satisfied with this, but proceeded say (sic) that it
was the cause of his wearing them ; he did not know but it
might be the reason why I wore them; & then made some
remarks upon sight, which induced me to enter upon an
optical lecture on the causes, phenomena and remedies of
defective vision, which very much surprised but did not
silence the knight. Soon the apples came and pay being re¬
fused I gave an urchin some money and moved, leaving
them in a sad quandry, as to who 'that are' man was, whence
he came, whither bound, and what he could want of so many
apples.”36
The thrill of getting the feel of a new position, of learning the
foibles and the ways of a new family, of meeting the young
scholars as they drifted back to the Highland School were by mid-
October giving way to a general discontent and irritation. The
veneer of the school had rubbed off, and the reality of the daily
routine was stultifying, even to one of so pedantic and pedestrian
a nature as Robert Adams Coker. The Tolliver-like qualities of
34 Ibid., II, 119, entry for the week of September 30, 1832.
35 Diary, II, 119, entry for the week of October 7th: . . walked to Cold Spring
twice in quest of fruit but could find none worth bringing home.” Ibid., II, 120, entry
for the week of October 14th : “Saturday walked to Cold Spring for fruit, but found
none.”
36 Diary, II, 120—121, entry for the week of October 21, 1832.
1955]
Irrmann — Robert Adams Coker
101
Mr. Watson were all too soon apparent, and Coker soon eschewed
the dubious delights of going upon invited rides with Master
Watson. The curious questings to the Point, and to Fort Putnam,
the eager walks to Cold Spring, even the quick withdrawals to
the hidden glade were all but discontinued by mid-October. The
rude awakening had come!
“Yesterday Mr. E. Watson invited me to ride, but I declined,
because I find that an invitation to ride the precursor of a re¬
quest to sleep in the Attic. I am willing to oblige anyone, but am
not to be fished into the performance of drudyery (sic) by any
one.”37 It was not alone the fact that “a policeman’s lot is not a
happy one”, even in the Attic; the daily life in the Highland
School had become one of stress and strain for the mathematics
instructor. He was now one of the family, with all of the attend¬
ant inconveniences thereunto attached. As October drew toward
an end, colder weather threatened, and Coker wanted the com¬
fort of a stove. “Tuesday my stove was put up. I was obliged to
make two applications before I got it. It is a little sheet iron con¬
cern such as is seen in shoemakers’ shops & its longest diameter
is 16% inches. The wood is green & it is decidedly the worst that
I have ever had any thing to do with.”38 Discontent with the
stove was not a frequent reaction these late October days, for
Coker was seldom enough in his room to feel the need of the
stove, or even to have time enough to light it. “This week sleept
(sic) in the Attic — -wish it to the deuce every time I sleep
there.”39 Early November proved to be no better than late Octo¬
ber; “the past (week) I have slept in the Attic on account of
Mr. W’s absence. Went to bed of course about 20 minutes past
8 ”40
Coker’s discontent was at this point not all externally induced.
He was wearied of the Watsons, of the school, of the fare, and
of the general situation. Little, it seems, could please him. He
was sick, literally, unto death, but knew it not. His family had
concern for him that fall, and sought from him comments on his
health.41 They were probably more conscious of his danger than
37 Diary, II, 121, entry for thd week of October 21, 1832.
38 Ibid,, entry for the week 6f October 28, 1832. Tuesday would have been Octo¬
ber 22.
39 Diary , II, 122, entry for the week of November 4, 1832.
40 Diary, II, 122, entry for the week of November 11, 1832. The Messrs. Watson
were undoubtedly absent to attend the burial of Mrs. E. Watson, recently deceased.
It was she who had kindly given Coker the peaches.
41 When Coker first went to teach in the academy in Francestown, he wrote re¬
assuringly to his sister Susan and the whole family: “You need not fear that I
shall study too much here, for there not books (sic) nearer than Boston except two
or three that I bought for studying my profession. My profession, you know, the
102 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
was Coker himself. As winter approached, he went to Cold
Spring to procure a short coat, and notes that he “bought mate¬
rial for a spencer.”42 In less than three weeks he was back in
town to get it, but with no joy in the acquisition. “One day this
week I walked to Cold Spring & got a spencer which was made
for me there. It is altogether different from what I designed &
will be of little use. I set out to get a cheap garment ; but I find
cheap things always dearest in the end.”43 Even within himself
was this season to prove for Coker the winter of his discontents :
“Begant (sic) to write an Arithmetic. . . . This week I have
made but little progress with my arithmetic. It is a great bore
to write. Doubt whether I finish it without an amanuensis.”44
The combination of ill-health and irritation finally provoked
Coker to make an issue of what he considered abuse of his posi¬
tion and disposition. The diet at the table at the Highland School
was less than appealing, and Coker’s frequent consumption of
fresh fruit appears to have produced the inevitable result :
“This week (November 18th week) much trouble with the
Dysentery. Obliged to be up once or twice for three nights.
Slept in the Attic the first three nights of this week, for Mr.
E. W. I have been called upon for several nights extra every
week that I have slept there except the first. Wednesday
finding that I was not relieved of the Attic as I was told I
should be, I wrote a note to the Messrs. Watsons (sic),
stating how much more I had slept there than of right be¬
longed to me & requesting to be excused for the rest of the
term. This note produced immediate relief, & in the evening
I received a note of Mr. J. L. Watson, from which I extract
the following : ‘It gives me pleasure to take this opportunity
to express our entire satisfaction with the performance of
all the duties we have assigned you.’ However they did not
excuse me for the whole term ; but as only one week of Attic
sleeping, or rather waking would fall to me during the term
I tho’t best to say no more till the vacation when I shall
make a more definite agreement if I conclude to stay.”45
Doctor says will be just the thing- for me.” Robert Adams Coker to Susan A. Coker,
Francestown, November 3, 1831. Mss. letter in the possession of the author.
The family was anxious about Coker’s health when he went to New York state,
and in their first letter to him after his reaching- the Hig-hland School, they in¬
quired particularly: “Mother wants you to send in particular about your health
wether (sic) the climate agrees with you better or not as well or wether (sic)
there is no difference.” Catherine G. Coker to Robert A. Coker, West Newbury, July
31, 1832. Mss. Letter in the possession of the author.
42 Diary, II, 121, entry for the week of October 28, 1832.
43 Ibid., 122, entry for the week of November 18, 1832.
44 Jbid., 122, 123, entries for the weeks of November 11, 18, 1832.
46 Diary, II, 123, entry for the week of Novemver 25, 1832. Undoubtedly part of
Coker’s discontent was fostered by the worsening- relations between his scholars
and himself. He must have been a humorless pedant, a perfect butt for exhuberant
young- fiends to torment. As he noted in his Diary, “this week all the boys with
1955]
Irrmann — Robert Adams Coker
103
Coker’s general health improved but little by the end of
November, if we can credit the Diary. The dysentery still both¬
ered him, and he felt “like a stewed goose for want of proper
exercise and food.”46 He was also homesick for family and for
Massachusetts. Unusual for him, in the same week Coker wrote
both to his family and to his dearest friend William Austin,
remembering on the Thursday on which he wrote to the latter
that it was then Thanksgiving Day in Massachusetts, “as I re¬
membered when I sat down to our meagre dinner, of which I
could scarcely eat 3 mouths full.”47 So angered and hungered was
Coker that on the following Saturday he attempted to remedy
both the want of exercise and want of food. In so doing, he left
a most interesting picture in recounting his excursion to the old
foundery :
“. . . walked to Cold Spring, eat (sic) a pie, & bought a few
apples as hard as brick-bats. As I returned, called at the
foundery where I saw them cast a shaft &c. &c. The iron
was constantly stired (sic) in order to feed it, & from time
to time liquid iron was brought from the furnace in ladles
& poured in to feed the shaft. Without feeding the workman
said the casting would be good for nothing. (I.E. not solid) .
I also saw a cylender (sic) for the Erie being bored. Cylen-
ders (sic) are not cast solid like cannon; hollow and then
are bored smooth. The workman said, it took about 12 days
to bore such an one as the Erie’s, as they went over them
twice. The Cylender (sic) is not moved during the opera¬
tion, the cutter advancing, by means of a screw, as fast as is
necessary.”48
Food and foundery drew Coker again the following week. “. . .
walked to the Foundery & stayed a few minutes. Bought some
citron, which is the first I ever tasted. Was very sick of my bar¬
gain. It is not fit for civilized beings to eat. . . . Yesterday walked
to Cold Spring in the rain mainly to get something to eat besides
bread.”49
the exception of 8 or 10 have been racking their ingenuity to show their spite
against me. I have been really amused at their resentment ; but have in no instance
varied my conduct in the least except to draw tighter the reins. The cause is, I
make them learn by study , whereas they wish & have been accustomed to learn
Arithmetic only by being shown. I am also much more strict than their old Math.
Instr.” Ibid., II, 124. Coker smugly thought he knew where the blame lay, but would
have been surprised had Robert Burns’ measure been used upon him. Half a cen¬
tury later the Rev. Dr. Morison was to apply a critical rule of evaluation to
this dusty scholar, and possibly prove the boys correct in their heckling resentment
of poor Coker.
46 Diary, II, 124, entry for the week of December 2, 1832.
47 Ibid.
48 Diary, II, 124-125, entry for the week of December 2, 1832.
49 Ibid., II, 125, entry for the week of December 9, 1832.
104 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
The Highland School, like citron, came for Coker to be . .
not fit for civilized beings . . As discontents mounted, fuel
was added to the pyre by a difference of opinion between Coker
and the Watsons as to his term of service to the school. John Lee
Watson consider Coker as obligated to serve six months, whereas
Coker’s understanding had been only five months. A battle of
letters and conferences followed, and the Watsons’ obstinacy con¬
vinced Coker that departure alone was possible. In anger at
Coker’s attitude, John Watson had finally told the mathematics
instructor that he, Watson, could make Coker work all night in¬
stead of going to bed.50 Here was the watershed in emotions and
relations as concerned Robert Adams Coker and the Highland
School, In spirit he was, in mid-December, through with the
Watsons and their school ; within three weeks he was in fact and
in deed to be done with them. Nothing now could please him; all
was dust in his mouth. It was more than psychosomatic, for
Coker was dying, though none knew it yet. The severing of good
relations between Coker and the Watsons was actually for the
Watsons’ good ; had Coker been persuaded to stay on at the High¬
land School, they might well have had a corpse rather than a
mathematics tutor on their hands before the renewed contract
had expired. Yet it is impossible to read the year’s end entries
in the Diary without a feeling of intense pity for this lonely man
of twenty-five, rebelling against his lot in life without knowing
the true cause:
“This week have been very unwell. One or two mornings
when first I got up it hurt me to breath very much, giving a
violent pain in my breast, left sholder (sic) and about the
left kidney, where, as near as I can judge, is the seat of the
disorder. Left coffee and meat and potatos, mostly; and I
think, Dei gratia, the difficulty had not increased, but per¬
haps rather diminished. Felt like a stewed goose most of the
time. ... Oh ! Deus me sustine, te precor. Saturday walked
to Cold Spring, and stayed all night at Longfield’s. For 2
meals, lodging, &c. payed 621/2 cents. I gave Mr. L 40 cts.
to bring me home.”51
Not even the keeping of Christmas could give Robert Coker a
spark of affection for the school. On Christmas Day, . . Messrs.
W gave the boys a Dinner. It consisted of 1st. Roast Turkey;
2nd a small piece of mince pie, miserable enough, tho’ very rich,
yet spoiled in cooking; 3rd a desert (sic) of almonds, figs and
very good raisins.— Drink, water.”52 But the Watsons’ board
50 Ibid., II, 126-128, entry for the week of December 16, 1832.
51 Diary, II, 128-129, entry for the week of December 23, 1832.
62 Diary, II, 129, entry for the week of December 30, 1832.
1955]
I rrmann— Robert Adams Coker
105
stayed heavy in Robert’s stomach, and the day after the feast he
went off to Cold Spring once more.
“. . . stayed the night at Mr. Longfield’s merely to get a
change of diet for a day or two. Thursday it snowed and was
wet, got Longfield to bring me home. . . . This week I have
felt like a stewed goose of the second degree. I am now thor¬
oughly disgusted with the place & if ever I get away ye will
never catch me here again in this sink of filth and misery.
The manner of life is enough to kill a horse either by con¬
finement or wretched food. Today I sent for 25 cents worth
of crackers and fish to help me drag along.”53
Reprieve was soon in sight; the new year came! Two one-
sentence entries in Coker’s Diary record the passage of the old
and th$ entry of the new: “Dec. 31. The recess closed and I
taught my classes.” “January 1. The Kalends was observed, tho’
not as it should be.”54 Nothing was, or could be, right at this
house high above the Hudson. By January 5th the moment for
departure had come. Reports and recommendations had been
turned in to the Messrs. Watson, and the scholars ail “classed” ;
Robert Adams Coker was ready to shake the dust of the High¬
land School from his heels that Saturday afternoon in January,
1833. “At four I was ready and having bequeathed my relicts to
Mr. Ellis, and taken leave of him and Messrs. Watson I stepped
into the waggon (sic) and rode off without the least regret at
anything except leaving a bottle of fine spring water which the
servant had brought me in the forenoon.”55 By wagon to Cold
Spring, by river boat to New York, and then a brief visit: “I did
not move about the City much. From the appearance of things
it seems that one might get anything he wanted. I got oysters
there for 8 cents apiece, and large doughnuts, of which 1 is
nearly enough for my breakfast, for a cent apiece. The City Hall
was the only building to which I payed attention. It is a very
pretty building, situated on a plane (sic) in an elevated part of
the city. Tamany (sic) Hall close by is a house, on the European
plan, where you can get just what you want without being bored
with what is not wanted.”56 On Tuesday Robert Coker left New
York by boat for New London, from there by stage to Norwich,
where he “took a glass of hot water & some crackers and figs.”
From Norwich the journey went by coach to Boston, stopping at
Brookline for supper. “I eat nothing but toast. After changing
53 Ibid.
« Diary, II, 129, 132.
55 Diary, II, 133, entry for the week of New Year’s Eve and the New Year, 1832-
1833. These last several pages are not numbered in the original.
66 Ibid., II, 134.
106 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
our carriage & horses we proceeded to Thompson, where I took
a cracker & a glass of wine. ... We went thro’ Mendon & reached
Milford about 7, where we took breakfast. I eat little but toast.”57
At West Newbury the journey came to an end.
And so the story has been told. The brilliant mathematician
of the Harvard Class of 1831 had gone but a little way West, in
pursuit of his “profession”. It had proved to be less the glorious
realization than he had once imagined. By early January he was
home again in West Newbury, home once more with his Mother,
who had been so disturbed that there had been no Church near
the Highland School, and who had seen the hand of God direct¬
ing Robert's journey westward across Massachusetts when he
went out eagerly toward Philipstown and Cold Spring:
“I think we ought to consider it as a providential thing that
you did not send your trunk by water for of course you
would went (sic) into the city and might have been exposed
to sickness and danger in the Steam Boat, but God directed
you another way. I hope you will ever remember to seek first
the Kingdom of heaven and the rightousness (sic) thereof
and God will ever direct you in all your lawful undertakings,
for the Scriptures teach us that it is of him and through
him and to him and from him are all things. I am sorry you
have no good meeting on the Sab. But I hope you will re¬
member the commandment to keep it holy and not suffer
yourself in any thing unnecessary.”58
He was home again with the sisters and brothers who had waited
impatiently for his letters, and who had laboriously written
letters to him, detailing the events of their everyday lives in West
Newbury, telling him of the fields and the orchards, the progress
of the black colt, and of the visits to aunts and uncles.59 Now this
was all at an end. Robert Adams Coker had come home. He had
written his first report from the Highland School six months
before, and had noted that “Mr. W’s family appears to be a good
one and we have plenty of toasted bread” Now the sixmonth
was gone, and so was Coker's health. How pitiful it is to read
that final sentence in the Diary that he had methodically kept
since his academy days at Exeter, beginning in 1827 : “I eat little
but toast.” By March, 1833, Robert Adams Coker was dead. One
57 Ibid., II, 135-136.
68 Susanna Coker to Robert Adams Coker, July 31, 1832, West Newbury, Mass.
Mss. letter in the possession of the author.
69 Susanna Coker to Robert Adams Coker, West Newbury, July 27, 1832; Cath¬
erine G. Coker to Robert Adams Coker, July 31, 1832, West Newbury; same to
same, West Newbury, September 5, 1832; Susan Coker to Robert Adams Coker,
West Newbury, November 8, 1832 ; Catherine Coker to Robert Adams Coker,
November 14-15, 1832. Mss. letters in the possession of the author.
1955]
Irrmann — Robert Adams Coker
107
of his family added the final entry in the Diary , not a holograph
entry, but the pasted obituary from a local newspaper.60
Forty-eight years later, on the occasion of the 50th anniver¬
sary of his Harvard Class, Coker’s name was called forth from
the shadows of the past, and his personality conjured up for
those remaining classmates celebrating in 1881. Ten members of
the class were present at this anniversary, and the Rev. John
Hopkins Morison read a series of very interesting sketches of
deceased members of the class, with estimates of their characters
and achievements. In essence the commentator captured well the
teacher of the Highland School who did one job, and then went
home to die:
“Robert A. Coker. Single-hearted, honest, a little affected in
his profession of exclusive devotedness to mathematics, —
hearty in his greetings-— it was always a pleasure to meet
him, and perhaps it was also a pleasure to leave him — there
was so little variety in his conversation. His life was a
monotone not devoid of humor, but all slightly in the minor
key.”61
m Diary, II, 137. Page not numbered in the original. For an identical copy, see
Harvard Class Book, 1831, newspaper clipping, no date, no place, p. 271.
nHar’vard Class Book, 1831. Account of the 50th anniversary meeting of the
class, Tuesday, June 28, 1881. pp. 45-46 ; comment on Robert Adams Coker, in
Morison’s hand (pasted in the Class Book), p. 270.
THE INFLUENCE OF SCIENCE ON AMERICAN
LITERARY CRITICISM, 1860-1910, INCLUDING
THE VOGUE OF TAINE*
Harry Hayden Clark
I
If American critical thought from 1860-1910 represents,
broadly speaking, a revolt against the artificial and “feudalistic”
romance of Scott and his followers as well as a revolt against
the kind of semi-Coleridgean idealism associated with Emerson
and Poe and their major contemporaries, the new trend toward
what is roughly called realism (what is habitual and average in
human conduct) and naturalism (stressing man’s kinship with
nature and animals) is complex and is to be explained only by
the interplay of many diverse influences. Among these are the
growing demand for greater democracy, especially in economic
opportunity; the growing need for adjustment to the physical
environment of America; the attempts of an expanding jour¬
nalism to meet the demands of an ever growing public, including
immigrants, increasingly alive to the actual realities of their
work-a-day world; and the vogue and influence of European
thinkers. More important than generally realized, however, in
helping us to understand the new trend and the ways in which
the influences just mentioned were rationalized, is science. For
scientific inventions and industrialism, applied to exploiting
frontier resources, brought to a focus many of the problems of
our professed ideal of democratic equality and the welfare of all ;
scientific advances in printing and in transportation implemented
an expanding journalism which increasingly reached the masses ;
and the European thinkers themselves (such as Zola) were
mostly greatly influenced by science. But at least equally impor¬
tant were the philosophical and sociological implications of evo¬
lution, which gradually led people to see the ideas with which
literature was concerned in a new frame of reference and to try
to explain literary art and creativeness in terms of the physio¬
logical-psychological study of the individual considered as deter¬
mined by both heredity and environment, by time, place, and race.
At the risk of over-simplifying a complex pattern of thought, we
* Grateful acknowledgement is made to The Graduate School of the University
of Wisconsin for a grant which enabled me to complete this research.
109
110 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
might bear in mind David Bowers’ suggestive thesis that after
the Origin of Species the bases of American philosophical ideas
turned from dualism to monism ; from the idea of fixity of spe¬
cies (uniformitarianism, as Love joy would say) to the flux and
relativity; from individualistic atomism to a sense of society as
an organism, growing and changing and interdependent, in
which the individual is subordinated to the species and to the
functioning of the social order as a whole. And students of this
criticism would also find illumination in Richard Hofstadter’s
Social Darwinism (to 1915) and in John Dewey’s work, espe¬
cially his essay of 1910 on the “Influence of Darwin”. We must
of course remember that (as Osborn has shown) some of the
general ideas of evolution go back to the ancient Greeks; that
Lamarck, Lyell, Comte and Buckle paved the way for Darwin’s
literary influence ; and we must bear in mind not only the influ¬
ence of Spencer and Huxley in America but also our own popu-
larizers of Darwinism such as Fiske, Youmans, Le Conte,
Draper, Shaler, Asa Gray (not to mention the intermediate and
partly hostile Agassiz and J. D. Dana), as well as the American
vogue of Herder, Goethe, Hegel, Taine, Bruntiere, Sainte-Beuve,
Zola, J. A. Symonds, Dowden, Kidd, Drummond, Leslie Stephen,
Haeckel, etc. For example, Dowden’s popular essay on “The Sci¬
entific Movement and Literature” attributed to science increased
interest among literary men in “the relative as opposed to the
absolute”; in the idea of heredity; and in the idea of human
progress. American reviews and comments on the work of all
these men furnished an interesting chapter in comparative
literature. In the following paper I shall try to summarize the
way scientific ideas entered into the thought not only of the three
major critics of the period but of some thirty critics of inter¬
mediate stature who reflect the time-spirit and the way ideas
associated with science operated on the popular level.
Whitman wrote Dowden he was glad to “entirely accept” his
Taine-like interpretation of his literary functions; Whitman
would “typify” a representative American “formed & shaped in
consonance with modern science, with American [frontier]
Democracy.” He accepted the facts of science and of Darwinism
“from A to izzard,” but “furthermore,” he said in his essay on
the subject, he hoped these could be “blended” with a belief in
man’s divinity, for he was in part a mystic in debt to the trans¬
cendental Emerson. Science gave him authority for his frank¬
ness about sex as well as his faith in “vital laws” and in the
pantheistic divinity of all things, high and low, before which
“the whole theory of the supernatural, and all that was twined
1955] Clark — Influence of Science on Literary Criticism 111
with it or educed out of it, departs as a in a dream.” Partly be¬
cause evolution convinced him of progress, his criticism dispar¬
aged Scott, Carlyle, and even Tennyson as “feudalistic”. And the
“law of eternal kosmical action, evolution,” inspired his view
that individuality (states’ rights) will “surely destroy itself”
unless subordinated to the Union ; he said the Civil War was the
“axel” on which all his poems turned. According to C. M. Gayley
and F. N. Scott, “Tame’s method of criticism is flatly and frankly
scientific.” And Whitman exults because “Taine . . . has brought
to the fore the first, last, and all-illuminating point, with respect
to any grand production of literature, that the only way to finally
understand it is to minutely study the personality of the one who
shaped it — his origin, times, surroundings, and his actual for¬
tunes, life, and ways.” (Quoted by R. M. Bucke, Whitman , 1883,
p. 12)
One of the chief defenders of Whitman, John Burrough’s book
on him (1896) includes a chapter on “His Relations to Science”
which regards “Leaves of Grass” as “the outgrowth of science”
especially in its monism, the conviction of “the identity of soul
and body, matter and spirit,” and its turn from “notions of the
absolute, the fixed, the arbitrary, ... of the dualism of the
world.” Burroughs’ two appealing volumes of critical essays,
Indoor Studies (1889) and Literary Values (1902), center on the
relation of “Science and Literature,” an essay which concludes
that while the interests of the two are “widely different, yet in
no true sense are they hostile or mutually destructive.” Indeed
Burroughs did pioneer work in studying the indebtedness to sci¬
ence of Emerson and Tennyson ; and his view that while Carlyle
verbally attacked Darwinism his ideas strikingly parallel Dar¬
win’s has been supported by the investigations of modern
scholars such as Clifford Harrold. Burroughs thought science
was especially helpful in turning critics from the arbitrary rules
of “the old traditions” :
“This suspicion of nature was the keynote of the old
theology, which found its authority in a miraculous revela¬
tion, and it is the keynote of the old Aristotelian criticism,
which found its authority in a body of rules deduced from
the masters. The new theology looks for a scientific basis for
its morals, or seeks for the sanction of nature herself; and
democratic criticism aims to stand upon the same basis, and
cleaves to principles and not standards, not by yielding to
the caprices of uninformed taste, but by seeking the law
and test of every work within itself.” ( Literary Values, in
Writings , Riverby Ed., XII, 125)
112 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
In Birds and Poets (III, 173) he remarks that “After the critic
has enumerated all the stock qualities of the poet, as taste, fancy,
melody, it remains to be said that unless there is something in
him that is living identity, something analagous to the growing,
pushing, reproducing forces of nature, all the rest in the end
pass for little.” “It is ever present to the true artist, in his
attempt to report nature, that every object as it stands in the
circuit of cause and effect has a history which involves its sur¬
roundings, and that the depth of the interest which it awakens
in us is in proportion as its integrity in this respect is preserved”
(III, 171). Following and interpreting Emerson and Whitman,
then, Burroughs as a literary critic was an important influence
in urging in lucid and appealing essays that literature and sci¬
ence should provide mutual reinforcement in standing for
monism, anti-traditionalism, stress on organic and positive nat¬
ural forces, orientation in terms of “surroundings,” a concern
for “the true, the vital, the characteristic,” and for a rationalism
respectful of the unknowable and of personalized poetic emotion.
Another critic of Whitman, E. C. Stedman, while essentially
an idealist, called himself an eclectic and prided himself on hav¬
ing written in Victorian Poets (1875, pp. 7-21) “almost the first
extended consideration” of the impact on poetry of science, which
he thought of “an importance equal to that of all other forces
combined.” In part the effect of science has been iconoclastic : it
has helped poets “to cast off a weight of precedent and phe¬
nomenal [mythological] imagery,” has found “the vulnerable
point of an inherited faith” and made his “own time [1875] a
turbulent, unrestful interval of transition.” Even “our school¬
girls and spinsters wander down the lanes with Darwin, Huxley,
and Spencer under their arms.” But Stedman {Life and Letters,
II, 388) is a “soft” or optimistic evolutionist, assured that
“Nature is singing the wondrous story of her progress through
Evolution, from star-dust up to sentient Man.” In this transi¬
tional period Stedman, who edited Poe and disliked the heresy
of the didactic, thought “the very tendency of modern poetry to
wreck its thoughts upon expression, of which Huxley so com¬
plains, naturally follows the iconoclastic overthrow of its cher¬
ished ideals, confining it to skilful utilization of the laws of form
and melody,” as Lanier was to illustrate later. And the “disen¬
chanting” effect of science on those accustomed to “empty magi¬
cian's food” had partly inspired “new phases of psychical
poetry, which formerly repelled the healthy minded by its morbid
cast,” in opposition to the view that art is “mere pastime and
amusement.” “Poetry will not be able to fully avail herself of
1955] Clark — Influence of Science on Literary Criticism 113
the aid of Science, until her votaries shall cease to be dazed by
the possession of a new sense. Our horizon is now so extended
that a thousand novel and sublime objects confuse us.” However,
he is convinced that this daze and confusion is merely temporary,
and he sees an “approaching harmony of Poetry and Science,”
her “ally” ; with science “at last a clearer vision and a riper
faith will come to us, and with them a fresh inspiration, express¬
ing itself in new symbols, new imagery, and beauty, suggested
by the fuller truth.” This prophecy is partly fulfilled in the
vitality and inclusiveness of Whitman, on whom Stedman pub¬
lished an important judicial essay in 1880, included in his Poets
of America in 1885, which contains many comments on the influ¬
ence of science. In accord with Greenough and Emerson he
accepted something of functionalism, agreeing that ideal beauty
“lies in adaptation of the spirit to the circumstances,” although
these need not be the merely “apparent material exigencies.” As
we shall see later, he also took a balanced view of Taine ( Vic¬
torian Poets , p. 1), promising to show through this book in the
case of the minor poets the “moulding of an author’s life, genius,
and manner of expression, by the conditions of race, circum¬
stance, and period,” while as an idealist he has in the case of the
great poets an “equal certainty that great poets overcome all
restrictions, create their own styles, and even may determine the
lyrical character of a period ...” Stedman exerted great influ¬
ence; the public demand for Victorian Poets even by 1887 had
called forth thirteen editions, and Johns Hopkins University
called him to deliver his lectures on The Nature and Elements of
Poetry (1892). His Genius and Other Essays (1911) included
“What is Criticism” first printed in 1887. Stedman’s discussion
of the disadvantages and advantages of science as it affected
poetry is an excellent mirror of his period of transition in
American criticism.
Howells said the true realist (seeking “fidelity to experience
and probability of motive”) “cannot declare this thing or that
thing unworthy of notice, any more than the scientist can . . .”
Because Victorian evolution convinced him that “the beast-man
will be . . . subdued,” he revolted against “the paralysis of tra¬
dition” (disparaging Scott as “mediaeval” and seeing three-fifths
of the “clasics” as dead). “Truth ... is the highest beauty.”
Therefore he scorned idealization of the Platonic type as like rep¬
resenting a paste-board grass-hopper when a “real grass-hopper”
was available for representation. Although at first he disparaged
plot and sought “the desultory, unfinished, imperfect,” since life
“confesses itself without a plan,” evolutionary ruthless competi-
114 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
tion as practised in our capitalistic society led him to favor
novels of propaganda devoted to a mild socialism in which the
fruits of industrial science and natural resources were subject to
government control as a means of making “the race kinder and
better.” He commends Thornstein Veblen’s “methods and habits
of scientific inquiry,” and feels that “to translate these into dra¬
matic terms would form the unparalleled triumph of the nov¬
elist” with a “thinking mind.” Following Taine, Howells came
to think that literature “is a plant which springs from the nature
of a people,” and hence the critic should not judge it, any more
than a botanist should trample on a flower, but should “place a
book in such a light that the reader shall know its class, its func¬
tion, and character.” Howells expressed admiration for the criti¬
cal theories of H. M. Posnett and his friends H. H. Boyesen and
T. S. Perry, critical pioneers reflecting evolutionary trends and
he wrote mostly with deep respect of his neighbor John Fiske’s
views of science and religion. Howells quoted J. A. Symonds’
views of evolutionary criticism as the spring-board for his own
Criticism and Fiction, 1891. Howells’ complex critical debt to
science will be found more fully studied in my article, “The Role
of Science in the Thought of W. D. Howells,” Transactions of
the Wisconsin Academy, Vol. XLII (1953), pp. 263-303.
It will be remembered that Howells wrote a critical introduc¬
tion to Main Travelled Roads (1891) by Hamlin Garland, whose
aims and critical theories were even more influenced by science
as represented by his essays in Crumbling Idols (1894). “I am
a disciple of Mr. Spencer,” Garland announces, and hence “life
is a continual process of change” and there should be “progres¬
sion, and endless but definite succession in art and literature as
in geologic change.” “Men did not think . . . until the law of
progress was enunciated.” “The power of tradition grew less
binding, until there came upon the world the splendid light of
the development theory, uttered by Spencer and Darwin.” (p. 42)
Then with the decline of “the statical idea of life and literature,
the power of tradition grows fainter year by year.” Garland ends
these essays on an eloquent note illustrating how evolutionism
inspired anti-traditionalism: “Turn your back on the past, not
in scorn, but in justice to the future ... It [the past] is a high¬
way of dust, and Homer, Aeschylus, Sophocles, Dante, and
Shakespeare are milestones . . . Idols crumble and fall,” but
nature calls for “rebellious art.” (p. 190) In A Son of the Middle
Border he reminiscences about how as a youth he studied Taine’s
critical theories involving determinism; and shortly after Gar¬
land as the spokesman of middle-western regionalism and agrar-
1955] Clark — Influence of Science on Literary Criticism 115
ian reform formulated his “great principle” underlying “a really
vital and original literature” ; “in order to be great [it] must be
national, and in order to be national, must deal with conditions
peculiar to our own land and climate” in accord with Taine’s
theory. “Thus Joel Chandler Harris, George W. Cable, Joseph
Kirkland, Sarah Orne Jewett, and Mary Wilkins, like Bret Harte,
are but varying phases of the same movement, a movement which
is to give us at last a really vital and original literature.” Tech¬
nology, however, had enabled the few to amass wealth via indus¬
trialism at the expense of the many, especially the western farm¬
ers. Hence scientific considerations led Garland to develop his
“two great literary concepts— that truth was a higher quality
than beauty, and that to spread the reign of justice should every¬
where be the design and intent of the artist . . .” (pp. 807, 387,
874).
H. H. Boyesen cites Spencer’s definition of evolution and con¬
cludes that “if the novel is to keep pace with life, it must in its
highest form convey an impression of the whole complex machin¬
ery of the modern state and society, and by implication, at least,
make clear the influences and surroundings which fashioned the
hero’s character and thus determined his career.” ( Essays on
German Literature, 1892, pp. 232-33. This ran to a fourth edi¬
tion by 1898). He attacks the use of the “marvelous,” and seeks
“what is the normal and logical consequence of a line of conduct.”
Boyesen’s book above was popular enough to run to four edi¬
tions by 1898, and he also wrote Goethe and Schiller (1879),
A Commentary on . . . Ibsen (1893), and Essays on Scandinavian
Literature (1895). Howells acknowledged his great influence, as
did hundreds of his students at Columbia University.
C. C. Everett added the prestige of his deanship of the Har¬
vard Divinity School (1878-1900) to his sponsoring Spencer and
the use of scientific ethics in literature. He sees Hegel and Spen¬
cer as boring from different sides into the same mountain of
truth. Everett’s article on “Spencer’s Reconciliation of Science
and Religion” sees his work as making proper allowances for
the “mystery” of “true religion” and making “an immense step
toward the perfection of the science of psychology” (Christian
Examiner, LXXII, 337-52, May, 1862; See also his “Spencer’s
‘Data of Ethics.’ ” Unitarian Review, XIII, 43ff.) Having “spent
a number of terms at the Bowdoin Medical College,” Everett
said that “if I honor anything in the present age, it is the spirit
of scientific investigation. I accept with delight its revelation,”
so long as it does not deny the soul. In Poetry, Comedy, and Duty
(1888) the essay “The New Ethics” favors the relative over the
116 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
absolute, weighs both judiciously and concludes (p. 291) that
there is “no need for fear lest the new science shall undermine
virtue/’ for religion and science “while theoretically at variance,
are practically working together toward the same end” (p. 292) .
He liked the scientific ethics for their taking into account histo¬
rical relations, heredity, and the promise of the amelioration of
social evils through environmental changes to implement Chris¬
tian charity. In his excellent essay on George Eliot he finds that
the scientific Comte’s “humanitarianism inspired George Eliot’s
heart,” and that she presents tragedy movingly as the result of
a “collision between the results of heredity on the one side and
of the environment on the other,” with stress on heredity ( The
Andover Review, III, 519-39, June, 1885). The judicious C. M.
Gayley and F. N. Scott ( Methods and Materials of Literary
Criticism, 1899, p. 97) conclude, “perhaps no writer in America
has with equal charm set forth the philosophic connection be¬
tween Ethics and Art, Art and Imagination, Imagination and
the Actual, the Comic and the Tragic, the Beautiful and the
Right.”
G. W. Cooke’s George Eliot (1883, the same year as Lanier’s
English Novel which centers on her in somewhat the same vein)
is interesting for its bifurcated view of science. Cooke, a disciple
in Poets and Problems, 1886, of Ruskin whom he credits with
being the “opponent of science” (p. 216), and the author of
several volumes of criticism, claims that if the Transcendenta-
lists went to extremes on inwardness, George Eliot went to an
opposite extreme on evolution. He thinks at times that evolution
limited her work and encouraged despondency, yet in inspiring
her stress on heredity and environment “the method of science
she applied to literature” has “justified itself, and opened up new
and valuable results giving the world an enriched conception of
the life of man. The speculative mind has been stimulated to
fresh activity, and new philosophies of vast and imposing propor¬
tions have been the result. The studies of Charles Darwin, and
the elaboration of the theory of evolution, have given a marvel¬
ous incentive to the new method, resulting in a wide-spread
application to all the questions of nature and life” (p. 395). Evo¬
lution, he says, has failed to settle the great problems, has added
little that is new, yet it “has developed a new literary school” (p.
415) ; and he praised George Eliot’s psychological analysis of
character, and finds her superior to Dickens and Thackeray.
Cooke’s alternate praise and blame of science illustrates the way
a critic with a transcendental heritage (see his Emerson, 1881)
was torn between the two schools of thought in the eighteen
1955] Clark — Influence of Science on Literary Criticism 117
eighties. Later he became much more sympathetic toward
science.
Both Holmes and Lanier violently attacked Zola’s perverse use
of science in literature, but they both advocated scientific inter¬
pretation of poetic techniques— <see Holmes’s “Physiology of Ver¬
sification and the Harmonies of Organic and Animal Life” and
Lanier’s “Science of English Verse” (1880) dealing with techni¬
calities such as the duration, intensity, pitch, and tone-color of
sounds. Holmes as a physician saw “nine-tenths” of human be¬
havior determined by forces beyond our control; hence many
criminals in fiction are not responsible for their deeds and are
entitled to sympathetic medical treatment, as he suggested in
“Crime and Automatism,” and “Mechanism and Morals”; and
he wrote “medicated novels” such as Elsie Venner (1861) to pro¬
vide a sort of scientific “test of the doctrine of original sin and
human responsibility” in the case of one who had inherited evil
tendencies. His The Guradian Angel (1868) dealt with the suc¬
cessive emergence of three ancestral influences upon the life of
his heroine. Holmes’ relativistic doctrines involving humanitar-
ianism were of course brought to practical application in the
constitutional interpretations of his son, the great Justice, a
“block off the old chip.” For Dr. Holmes held that “Darwin-
ianism” bridged the chasm between Nature and Grace, “restored
‘Nature’ to its place as a true divine manifestation,” and he de¬
cided that “if we have grown by natural evolution out of the
caveman ... we have everything to hope from the future,” since
“sin, like diseases, is a vital process” and “must be studied as a
section of anthropology.”
On the other hand, Lanier wrote The English Novel (1883)
to show parallels in literary and in scientific development: “just
as science has pruned our faith (to make it more faithful) so it
has pruned our poetic form and technic.” Music and Poetry tries
to show how Darwin, poetry, and landscape-painting are all in¬
spired by “direct sympathy with physical nature.” Since “Mr.
Spencer has formulated the proposition that where opposition
forces act, rhythm appears,” Lanier, like Fiske, tries to ration¬
alize evil by arguing that “the awful struggle for existence . . .
may also result in rhythm” and social harmony. In Lanier’s
abortive but highly suggestive Shakespeare and his Forerunners
(1902) he tries to prove that the dramatist’s “advance in art
[from end-stopped lines to the later flexibility] and morals is one
and the same growth,” and he tries to relate his “management
of oppositions of the esthetic demands of the ear,” to the “man¬
agement of those moral oppositions which make up life.” He
118 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
illustrates Shakespeare’s ethical “opposition of character to char¬
acter, figure against figure, event against event,” culminating in
the serene harmonies of The Tempest. However, if Lanier
thought “evolution ... a noble and beautiful and true theory,”
he made “a passionate reaffirmation of the artist’s autonomy” —
See his prose note on the poem “Individuality” dealing with evo¬
lution. He believed that “sensuous things, constantly etherealiz-
ing, constantly acquire the dignity of spiritual things.” Doubt¬
less his own gallant fight against ill health reinforced his con¬
viction that the human spirit has resources which transcend
physical explanation. His criticism is slight in elaboration, but
interesting in its combination of poetic intuition and scientific
analogies.
His contemporary Henry James also combined a rich ethical
idealism and respect for the implications and method of science.
He had been exposed to ideas associated with science through his
brother William (an M.D. and assistant of Agassiz before he
turned to psychology), through meeting Herbert Spencer at
George Eliot’s weekly teas, through his close knowledge from
reading for reviews of Quatrefages, Renan, Gobineau, Sainte-
Beuve, Zola, and Taine. He repeatedly praised science, hoped
Oxford would prove a pathfinder in an education based on the
“union of science and sense,” on “the happy reconciliation be¬
tween research and acceptance,” and in his essay on Epictetus
he thought the moderns superior to the ancients because we are
happy possessors of the key to advancement by means of science.
He presented a long series of physicians (such as Sir Luke Strett
in The Wings of the Dove) sketched with deep sympathy, and in
“Lady Barberina” he says the physician’s “repression of pain,
the mitigation of misery, constitute surely the noblest profession
in the world.” (The physician-hero is in this story a symbol of
the dedication to social service which in James’ eyes distin¬
guished the American upper classes from a parasitic European
aristocracy. )
James was of course distinctive in his tremendous devotion to
artistry. But for him artistry involved not so much the relish of
sensuous loveliness or mere entertainment but rather the most
effectively calculated ways and means of presenting his material
in terms of literary architecture, structure and design, as well
as in balancing of psychological cause and effect. He said that
the artist in his small space must pack his materials “in the one
way that is mathematically right,” modelled on “the mechanical
arts.” Dramatic form or scenic method aimed at “the high dig¬
nity of the exact sciences, it was mathematical and architec-
1955] Clark - — Influence of Science on Literary Criticism 119
tural.”In his youth when Poe and his attack on “the heresy of
the didactic'' was “on all lips," James recognized that Poe
(author of Eureka based on Newtonianism) held the critic’s
“scales the highest" and pretended, more than anyone else, “to
conduct the weighing process on scientific principles." James’
own essay on “Criticism" was first entitled not the art but “The
Science of Criticism." In his preface to The Awkward Age he
tells how he calculated the illumination of his heroine’s character
by “seven lamps" or commentaries on her by that many friends,
thus solving his problem of “point of view" in what he called a
“triumphantly scientific" way. (He was much concerned with
avoiding the unscientific “omniscience" of the author, and with
engineering his stories so that they unfolded as they would have
been realized or understood in the mind of participants or con¬
fidants whom he called “reflectors," so as to arrive at realism
which he defined as “an immense and exquisite correspondence
to life" and normal or scientific ways of getting information.
“Really, universally," he said in his preface to Roderick Hudson,
“relations stop nowhere, and the exquisite problem of the artist
is eternally but to draw, by a geometry of his own, the circle
within which they shall appear to do so."
James thought that a novelist’s characters should be shown as
gradually developing in accord with evolutionary theories of
adantation to environment and of heredity. (One recalls Nanda
in The Awkward Age as inheriting her grandmother’s qualities
as opposed to her mother’s, and Hyacinth Robinson as explained
by his conflicting heritage in The Princess Casamassima.) James
thought Balzac the “master of us all" and devoted an essay to
him partly because of all historians of manners Balzac had “an
unequalled intensity of vision, he saw his subject in the light of
science as well, “in the light of the bearing of all its parts on each
other. (Balzac said he derived his basic idea of the Comedie
Humaine from observations in the Jar din des Plantes and its
scientific teachings about environmental determinism.) James
said that one cannot fully understand a man unless we know
under what circumstances he grew up ; and he criticised Cabot’s
biography of Emerson for not presenting him more fully in his
contexture of his time, place, and race. Having reviewed Quatra-
fages on Darwin, the racist Gobineau, and Taine (on whom he
wrote five essays) , James very frequently used current evolution¬
ary racial and atavistic theories to illuminate and motivate his
distinctively “international" contrasts, as in “A Bundle of
Letters" (1879). In this he has an arrogant German scientist
urge his countrymen to war on the French because of his notions
120 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
of his superior race. And in “The Last of the Valerii” James has
an Italian husband of a modern American girl revert to his
ancient pagan racial religion of blood sacrifice to Juno in a story
rich in atavism.
Having followed the scientific Zola (on whom he wrote three
critical essays) in dealing with the London slums in Princess
Casamassima, James praised H. G. Wells as a novelist for his
“scientific” recording of the British “lower middle” class which
the unscientific Dickens treated as fantastic and George Eliot as
picturesque. But James in 1872 praised the critic Sainte-Beuve
for a “frankly provisional empiricism more truly scientific than
M. Taine's premature philosophy” which tended to try to explain
the larger group rather than the individual, as did Sainte-Beuve.
James' concern for the tragic and with evil is partly a reflec¬
tion of current concern with the evolutionary struggle for exist¬
ence. Thus in English Hours (p. 71) he says, “When you think
of the small profits, the small jealousies, the long waiting and
the narrow margin for evil days implied by this redundancy of
shops and shopmen, you hear afresh the steady rumble of that
deep keynote of English manners, overscored so often and with
such sweet beguilement by our finer harmonies, but never extin¬
guished — -the economic struggle for existence.” And in books
such as The Wings of the Dove, with the dove, Milly, the dying
heiress victimized by the “snake” Kate and her aunt the rapa¬
cious Mrs. Lowder, one sees that in his distinctive novels despite
their “sweet beguilement” he has mainly translated this biolog¬
ical struggle for existence to high society and the quest of the
mercenary marriage.
James' artistic idea of beginning with the facts but transmut¬
ing them into art with universal implications may also have been
reinforced by scientific analogies. His Isabel Archer and Aunt
Penniman are censured for living too much in illusions and being
too indifferent to the rapacious instincts of others. Referring to
the “struggle for existence,” his “Madonna of the Future” says
that in this hard world . . . one must take what comes,” and the
story satirizes the artist's procrastinating Platonic idealism.
Indeed, in most of the passages where he talks of art transmut¬
ing the facts into symbolic universals it is noteworthy that he
draws not upon Platonism or Coleridge but upon scientific anal¬
ogies of re-combination. Thus in his quest of “this chemical
transmutation for the aesthetic, the representational,” he con¬
cludes that there can be no real art without the “crucible of the
imagination, of the observant and recording and interpreting
mind . . .” ( Letters , II, 181-2). Just as the true scientist is inter-
1955] Clark — Influence of Science on Literary Criticism 121
ested in the facts mainly as they inductively establish a universal
and abstract law, so James is interested in facts only in propor¬
tion as they can be used imaginatively in new combinations to
body forth some universal truth of human nature. His father
being a devotee of Swedenborg who was half mystic and half
scientist, James still retained “In After Years” some faith in
immortality as associated with the over-arching law of the con¬
servation of energy and of the values of the human consciousness
in terms of cosmic compensation.
Finally, James frankly admitted that his brother’s Pragma¬
tism (which drew in part on analogies with Darwin’s “sponta¬
neous variations”) was “immensely and universally right,” and
Henry said “All my life I have . . , unconsciously pragmatized”
{Letters, II, 83). He refers no doubt to his judging ideas and
conduct in terms of practical consequences and in accepting an
experimental pluralism and avoiding dogmatism. Thus “the day
of dogmatic criticism is over and with it the ancient infallibility
and tyranny of the critic. No critic lays down the law, because
no critic received the law ready made.”
James and Mark Twain appear to be poles apart, but H. S.
Canby in Turn West, Turn East (1951) has found many inter¬
esting parallels. And Everett Carter in Howells and the Rise of
Realism (1954) pp. 152-62, argues plausibly that the author of
Huckleberry Finn in his central theme was reflecting the utili¬
tarian Pragmatism which C. S. Peirce in 1878 called “a new
name for some old ways of thinking.” (See Philip Wiener, Evo¬
lution and the Founders of Pragmatism.) Mark Twain was led
to revolt against his native Calvinism partly by his reading of
spokesmen of the rationalistic Enlightenment such as Thomas
Paine, whose Age of Reason rested upon an anti-clerical version
of Newtonianism. His acquaintance (in popular versions) with
the ideas of geological time also militated against Genesis and
the concept of a special creation. His friend Macfarlane had
taught him the popular version of current evolution even before
Darwin, to whom he refers sympathetically a dozen times. In
literary criticism Mark Twain is most noteworthy for his devas¬
tating attacks on the faulty observation and unnatural dialogue
of Malory, Cooper and Scott (see Chapter 46 in Life on the
Mississippi) . Mark Twain attributed his own sharpness of obser¬
vation and realistic knowledge of a great range of men and
women to his experience in learning what he insisted on calling
“the science of piloting.” One should emphasize his own great
care in the adaptation of his characters and their speech-shad¬
ings or vernacular to their environment, for his training gave
122 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
him an uncanny sense of place, and all that it involves. And his
heritage from Thomas Paine and the rationalistic Enlightenment,
reinforced by reading Lecky, enabled him to write scorching
satire on mediaeval feudalism and priestcraft in anti-Scott books
such as The Prince and the Pauper (1882), and The Connecticut
Yankee (1889), which holds up in contrast all the advantages
of an inventive and technological order based on the science of
his own industrial Hartford. In the eighteen-eighties Twain has
many panegyrics on the idea of progress based on science, coun¬
tered by ridicule of mediaevalism and tradition. If he evolved
from the youthful gayety of his Western years to pessimism,
from creating naturally good characters such as Colonel Sellers
and Huck and Jim to his later view of What is Man? but some¬
thing lower than a rat, this trend toward disillusion was caused
not only by family disasters, bankruptcy from which he recov¬
ered, and a congenital tendency toward over-sensitivity, but by
his responsiveness to the more cynical readings of Darwinism
current in his day. “Extracts from Adams’ Diary” (1898) is a
sort of parable of Darwinian ideas of rapacity. He concludes in
his Notebook (p. 255) in 1895 that “Nature’s attitude toward all
life is profoundly vicious, treacherous, and malignant.” But his
artistically-poor American Claimant (1892) is the key full-length
document which in essence shows his turn against his earlier
faith that the American situation and democratic form of gov¬
ernment guarantee our superiority to Europe. He here adopts
the idea that all men everywhere are a part of a malign nature
actuated by a struggle for existence, modifying his view in The
Connecticut Yankee. The English hero, who is disillusioned with
America, discusses Darwin with “such enthusiasm”; even Gen¬
eral Hawkins expatiates on “the glacial period, and the correla¬
tion of forces, and the evolution of the Christian from the cater¬
pillar” ; heredity and atavism are discussed — there’s a “contribu¬
tion” in every man “from every ancestor he ever had,” man who
thus has in him the blood of those who have committed a thou¬
sand crimes. “Don’t you know the wounded deer is always
attacked and killed by its companions and friends.” Puddin’head
Wilson (1894), about the interchange of a white and a negro
baby, reflects current debates about heredity, racism, and envi¬
ronment. Mark Twain’s critical essay “What Paul Bourget
Thinks of Us” suggests sharply Taine’s science-inspired doctrine
that literature is determined by time, place, and race.
The American popularizer of Herbert Spencer in Cosmic Phil¬
osophy (1874), John Fiske had been persuaded by his friend
Huxley to apply his talent for studying evolutionism to history-
1955] Clark — Influence of Science on Literary Criticism 123
writing in which he included several provocative critical essays.
Fiske introduced his Century of Science (1899) with a long
dedicatory Epistle to Thomas Sergeant Perry, the realistic lit¬
erary critic, calling him his “patron saint.” He dedicated his
Myths and Myth-Makers (1872) to his “dear friend” and neigh¬
bor Howells. And he as early as 1868 he had written an apprecia¬
tive introduction for an American edition of Taine’s Philosophy
of Arty to be discussed later. Fiske devotes “Sociology and Hero-
Worship” (opposed to Carlyle) to the Spencerian idea that great
men, including authors, are a “product of the age,” an idea he
partly illustrates in his “Milton.” In an essay on Gladstone’s
work on Homer, however, the language-problem leads Fiske to
deny the idea of a folk-origin of the great epic, in spite of George
Eliot’s “clever” remark about such a view being counter to evo¬
lutionary views. In his essay on “Longfellow’s Dante” (1867) he
develops the idea that “the critical spirit of every age previous
to our own [“nurtured in this scientific nineteenth century”] has
been characterized by its inability to appreciate sympathetically
the spirit of the past and bygone times,” every translation of
Dante being based on “some conscious or unconscious instinct of
literary criticism” ( TJnseen World, p. 336). His essay on “Forty
Years of Bacon-Shakespeare Folly” (1897) includes much on the
era and conditions, which he also used elsewhere to explain the
slowness of America’s literary production. In an essay on Les¬
sing Fiske says of the disciples of this literary critic (he men¬
tions Sainte-Beuve)
“they inaugurated the historical method of criticism, and
they robbed the spirit of intolerance of its only philosophical
excuse for existing. Hitherto the orthodox had been intol¬
erant towards the philosophers because they considered
them heretics . . . But henceforth to the disciple of Lessing,
men of all shades of opinion were but the representatives
and exponents of different phases in the general evolution
of human intelligence, not necessarily to be disliked or
despised if they did not happen to represent the maturest
phase” which will undoubtedly itself “in due course of time
be essentially modified or finally supplanted.” ( Unseen
World, pp. 209, 207)
Evolution thus greatly advanced critical tolerance and objec¬
tivity, as in the case of Longfellow’s presentation of Dante.
Fiske’s Excusions of an Evolutionist also led him to the idea that
“poetry and music had their humble origin in tales about the
dead hero, and rhythmical chants and dances in propitiation of
his ghost” (p. 185), and he devoted several essays to the early
124 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
evolution of language, one of which shows how prehistoric Aryan
civilization can be partly reconstructed by means of a study of
their language (p. 113-129). He was much interested in Myths
and Myth-Makers, citing scholars such as Grimm, Muller, Kuhn,
Breal, Dasent, and Edward Tylor, the anthrolopogist, with some
attention (pp. 238-40) to the beginnings of literature, from
which he delighted in tracing the evolution of altruism which he
regarded as the crowning development.
Another historian, Brook Adams, the iconoclastic author of
The Emancipation of Massachusetts (1887), wrote the sugges¬
tive “Natural Selection in Literature” (1899) contrasting the
characters of Scott and Dickens as reflecting the conditions of
the struggle for existence before and after the Industrial Revo¬
lution. “Natural selection operates on men as on other animals,
favouring those whose qualities afford them an advantage over
their rivals . . . Hence the intellectual variation between suc¬
cessive generations of the same race offers the most interesting
of all fields of historical study,” literature being one of the chief
“channels through which the human intelligence finds expres¬
sion.” Adams sees civilization completely changed by “the con¬
solidation of industries which resulted from the . . . introduction
of the steam engine and kindred inventions.” “The whole social
equilibrium was reversed within . . . two generations, and the
changes which ensued are stamped with equal clearness upon the
census-book, the statue-book, and upon the writings of the
novelist and poet.” (Note the determinism assumed.) Thus
Scott's characters are motivated commonly by martial honor or
courage, and Dickens' by fear, as in Oliver Twist . The bulk of
the essay is devoted to apt illustrations of this fact from the
novels of the two chroniclers. “To appreciate Dickens as a social
phenomenon, to comprehend the variation in intellectual types
which his evolution indicated, one must go backward fifty years
and consider the instincts and ideals of the species which was
passing away, a species which found its most perfect reflection
in the mind of Sir Walter Scott,” contrasting his characters with
those of Dickens, “the creation of the ‘Industrial Revolution.' ”
For “the form in which the struggle for existence presented it¬
self to the audience of Dickens and of Scott was . . . radically
different, and stimulated nearly opposite intellectual qualities.”
In Adams’ preface to the 1919 edition of The Law of Civilization
and Decay, first published in 1896, he says “the last generation
was strongly Darwinian . . .”
Another portent of the times was Kuno Francke, who as head
of the German Department at Harvard and founder of its Ger-
1955] Clark— -Influence of Science on Literary Criticism 125
manic Museum, was influential in popularizing German ideals in
America. His enthusiastic essay, ‘‘The Evolutionary Trend in
German Literary Criticism” ( International Monthly, II (1900),
pp. 612-646), focused on “the Messiah toward whom the previ¬
ous history of literary criticism is pointing,” traces the roots of
the Darwinian method in criticism back to Herder and suggests
the method he used in his very influential Social Forces in Ger¬
man Literature (1896). Like Taine, he is to study literature
(according to his preface) as “an expression of national cul¬
ture,” to “point out the mutual relation of action and reaction
between these [intellectual] movements and the social and politi¬
cal condition of the masses from which they sprang or which
they affected” and the “forces which determined the growth of
German literature as a whole. . . . All literary development is
determined by the incessant conflict of two elemental human
tendencies : the tendency toward personal freedom and the tend¬
ency toward collective organization.” In the spirited survey
which constitutes the book, his sympathies are with a growing
collectivism although he pays lip-service to balance ; and he finds
“in science, both mental and physical, a steadily widening influ¬
ence exercised by the idea of organic evolution, whether this idea
be applied by a Grimm, Hegel, Ranke, Alexander von Humboldt,
Comte, Marx, Darwin, or Spencer” (p. 400). I need not comment
on the military outcome of this focus on the accelerating
“struggle between individualistic and collectivistic tendencies.”
Jack London’s literary ideas deriving from evolutionism are
suggested in essays such as “The Phenomena of Literary Evolu¬
tion” ( Bookman , XII, 148-51, 1900) and “The Terrible and
Tragic in Fiction” ( The Critic, XLII, 589-48, 1903). His Call
of the Wild (1903) in its story of the civilized dog in whom “in¬
stincts long dead become alive again” under the Alaskan aurora
borealis as he reverts to a savage wolf is a parable of man’s own
atavism in his realization that conscience is a vain and futile
thing and a “handicap in the struggle for existence.” His War of
the Classes (1903) illustrates how one variety of socialism sub¬
stituted for the struggle for existence of individuals the struggle
of the economic classes. Since London gave literary Darwinism
through his romantic boisterousness such an appeal that the Rus¬
sians report that they circulated 567 Russian editions, or
10,367,000 copies between 1918 and 1943 (LHUS, 1386), his
work has much significance beyond its mere literary quality in
helping to explain the image which the Russians now have of
the American attitude.
126 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
We can perhaps best illustrate naturalistic theories from
Frank Norris, celebrator of “The Responsibilities of the Nov¬
elist” to tell the harsh unvarnished truth about “the crude, the
raw, the vulgar,” about man’s greed and lust considered as his
basic animal heritage beneath the thin veneer given him by civ¬
ilization. In a fight “the brute that in McTeague lay so close to
the surface leaped instantly to life.” His voice was “no longer
human; it was rather an echo from the jungle,” and his conduct
is explained by “the foul sewer of heredity”. But Ernest Mar-
chand has dealt colorfully with the way Norris makes his char¬
acters reel back into the Brute (cf. Vandover becoming a wolf),
and I refer you to his able study (pp. lOlff), involving also
Norris’ debt to Zola and his view of nature “a vast, uncon¬
quered brute of the Pliocene epoch, savage, sullen, and magnifi¬
cently indifferent to man.” If at times Norris is not untouched
by humanitarianism (cf. Cressler in The Pit), he also deals with
economic rivalries in terms of the war between the classes and
views the railroad interests as an “Octopus” crushing the farm¬
ers. And yet, inconsistent as he is, he can say (echoing Spencer?)
that “Greed, cruelty, selfishness in humanity are short-lived ; the
individual suffers, but the race goes on . . . The larger view
always and through all shams, all wickednes, discovers the Truth
that will, in the end, prevail, and all things, inevitably, resist-
lessly work together for good.” Perhaps his science-bred faith in
progress accounts in part for his anti-traditionalism, his nativism,
environmentalism, and vitalism. The Responsibilities of a Nov¬
elist develops the idea that “The survival of the fittest is as good
in the evolution of our literature as of our bodies, and the best
‘academy’ for the writers of the United States is, after all, . . .
to be found in the judgment of the people, exercised throughout
the lapse of a considerable time.” As if advised by Taine, one of
Norris’ characters strove for “a great song which should em¬
brace in itself a whole epoch, a complete era, the voice of an
entire people.”
In “Literature” (1909) Harry Thurston Peck of Columbia
tried to demonstrate how “The patient, laborious, and brilliant
achievements of these four men — Stendhal, the writer of psy¬
chological fiction, Michelet, the master of historical imagination,
and Comte and [“the brilliant, epoch-making”] Spencer with
their application of scientific laws to social life as well as to the
world of mind, — may be taken as having laid a basis for the sci¬
entific study of literature.” (p. 10). Peck goes on to illustrate
Sainte-Beuve’s scientific approach in explaining individual
writers, and he especially emphasizes Taine’s evolutionary
1955] Clark — Influence of Science on Literary Criticism 127
method (p. 12), along with many other critics. (Taine is “the
most splendid historian of literature” of any country.) Yet Peck
in this same lecture finally defines the function of criticism as
merely helping “in various ways to stimulate the love of litera¬
ture” (p. 37), and his own critical practice in The Personal
Equation (1897), What is Good English and Other Essays
(1898), and Stuiies in Several Literatures (1909), illustrates
his dual interest in scientific and impressionistic criticism. In
Peck’s essay on Zola in 1892, later reprinted as an Introduction
to La Terre , he outlined Zola’s theories about the relevance of
science to literature and then labelled them “preposterous.” But
by praising Zola’s work admittedly based on these scientific
ideas as “so wonderful, so overwhelming in the evidence of
genius ... as to be assured of an unquestioned immortality,”
Peck seems to accept indirectly those scientific ideas. He also
finds Zola’s use of heredity “admirably described, in Mayo Hazel-
tine’s essay on Zola included in his Chats about Books (1883).
This book is sympathetic toward writing “illustrating elemental
traits of human nature, or as interpreting the pressure of a
unique environment” (p. 351). Hazeltine had published well-
informed and sympathetic essays on both Spencer and Darwin.
Although most of Dreiser’s work lies beyond our period, we
may note in passing that this “inconsistent mechanist” (as
Eliseo Vivas calls him) wrote enthusiastic essays on Norris’
McTeague and on the later cynical Mark Twain, and that Dreiser
tells us that after reading Spencer and Huxley in 1897 on the
struggle for existence he became obsessed with the “sharp con¬
trast” between current idealistic literature devoted to “the noble
maxims of the uplifters” and his own observations (in night
police courts, etc.). This contrast led him to try to supply the
need, as he saw it, for a literature devoted to “the coarse and the
vulgar and the cruel and the terrible,” and the idea that life is
“wholly meaningless.” Dreiser’s superman Cowperwood, alter¬
nating between lust and greed, is essentially Jack London’s Sea-
Wolf in a tuxedo; and Dreiser tells us that “it is folly not to
wish that the significant individual will . . . always do what his
instincts tell him to do.” (Mr. Charles Walcott finds some change
of direction in Dreiser’s work beyond our period.)
It will be recalled that H. L. Mencken, who championed
Dreiser and other naturalists, prided himself on being a heckler
of all humanitarians, on being an “orthodox” defender of the
capitalistic survival of the fittest: “I am in favor of free com¬
petition in all human enterprises, and to the utmost limit.” Mr.
Mencken claimed that “Nietzsche got the law of natural selection
128 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
from Darwin,” and that by following the Darwinian scientific
method “we have come as near to the absolute as it is possible
for human beings to come.” Perhaps Mencken’s admiration for
unfettered individualism is explained in part by his panegyric
on Huxley as comparable to Aristotle; Huxley “worked that great
change in human thought which marked the Nineteenth Cen¬
tury,” who “flung himself upon authority” in the name of “the
plain truth that sets men free.” “No man has ever written more
nearly perfect English prose.” In Mencken’s book on Shaw
(1905), hostile to socialism, he says, “It will take the perspec¬
tive of centuries to reveal to us the metes and bounds of Darwin’s
influence.” (p. xi)
The naturalistic period, however, had less shrill critics such as
H. W. Mabie, early defender of Whitman, author of a dozen
volumes of mellow criticism. In 1892 Mabie found “The Signifi¬
cance of Modern Criticism” in the fact that the scientific spirit
“could not rest in any isolated study of literary works; it must
study literature as a whole, determine its rank and place, and
interpret its significance in the totality of human development
. . . The end of criticism is to this extent identical with the end
of science; it is to discover and lay bare the fact, and the law
behind it. Modern criticism has given us a new conception of
literature. Studying comprehensively the vast material . . ., dis¬
covering clearly the law of growth behind all art, and the inter¬
dependence and unity of all human development, it has given us
an interpretation of literature which is nothing less than another
chapter in the revelation of life.” Like Kuno Francke, Mabie
traces this scientific criticism to Herder, who “substituted a nat¬
ural and vital for an artificial and mechanical conception,” thus
starting “a tremendous . . . revolution” in which literature is
seen as “conditioned on the development, the surroundings, and
the character of the men who create it.”
Vida Scudder in 1887 wrote a critical essay emphasizing the
salutary “Effect of the Scientific Temper in Modern Poetry” as
in (1) inculcating a faith in progress, (2) in the “Force-Idea”
as the basis of hopefulness associated with endless change, “be¬
coming,” and character-growth, (3) in Unity as associated with
a new sense of the interdependence of man and nature and God,
of cause and effect, and (4) in the dignity of a realism based on
the divine of the common and a new reverence for both facts
and the laws which govern them. However, she thought even
evolution involved “dangers” and that it could be perverted to
the interests of the fatalistic, the materialistic, and the “stupid.”
(She refers to Swinburne and Whitman.) But in general she
1955] Clark — Influence of Science on Literary Criticism 129
thinks that science has inspired in the Victorian age a “poetry
of search” and “The Triumph of the Spirit.” These ideas are ex¬
panded in her book The Life of the Spirit in the English Poets
(1895). In her Social Ideals she honored George Eliot, friend of
Spencer, as inspired by evolution to create a hero “formed,
evolved, created by the special conditions of his own age,” the
result of the “interplay of two great natural forces, heredity
and environment.” (pp. 189, 191.)
W. M. Payne, editor of The Dial (Chicago), wrote an enthusi¬
astic essay in 1900 on “American Literary Criticism and the
Doctrine of Evolution” (International Monthly , II, 26-46; 127-
53). Acknowledging Darwin’s unrivalled influence, Payne re¬
jected subjective criticism and called for an objective criticism
“controlled by the doctrine of evolution as a guiding principle.”
Such criticism, he said, should place a work “in relation to its
antecedents and its consequents,” the “conditions under which
the artist grew, the habits of the race, the opinions of his age,
his physical and psychological peculiarities.” This point of view
was applied in Payne’s long introduction to his widely used
anthology of American Literary Criticism (1904), where he
refers to the “masterly” Taine, Symonds, and Brunetiere, and
regretted that in America we have so far so few “thorough¬
going applications to literature of the evolutionary principle.”
(p. 28) In Various Views (1902), in an essay on Brunetiere,
who studied the evolution of forms in the light of Darwinism,
Payne rebuked The Nation for an unsympathetic article on him
and expressed his hearty “concurrence” with Brunetiere’s stress
on objectivity, stress on law above caprice, framing hypotheses
to be verified as in science, and his criterion of “the collective
judgment of the best informed in a succession of generations,”
a “prescription” “much needed in this country” (pp. 207-214).
Little Leaders (1902) contain his brief essays on Taine and J. A.
Symonds, who aims in an evolutionary way to “place himself
within the mind of the writer” as an individual, and he con¬
cluded, the “synthesis of the two . . . will produce the criticism
of the future” (p. 232) .
The individuality (which Taine neglected) in literary criticism
was ably brought within the evolutionary frame of reference by
Archibald Henderson’s The Changing Drama (1914, p. 49ff),
which centers on the influence of science, by supplementing Dar¬
win with DeVries and using the analogy of the latter’s theory of
variations and “saltations.”
John P. Hoskins attacks some of the earlier assumptions about
writings competing like rival organisms, and develops this
130 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
thesis : “In order to survive, a literary form must be assimilated
by society, must demonstrate its utility by expressing better
society’s view of what is real and true in life.” “Biological Anal¬
ogy in Literary Criticism,” Modern Philology, VI 407-34 (April,
1909) and VII, 61-82 (July, 1909) ; and “The Place and Func¬
tion of a Standard in a Genetic Theory of Literary Develop¬
ment,” Pub. Mod . Lang . Assoc., XXV, 379-402 (1910). The
latter article stresses the role of form and taste in competition
for public assimilation.
J. Mark Baldwin applies the method of Darwinian biology to
psychology and aesthetics, and interprets literary genius as a
variation effective in proportion as it is capable of adjusting it¬
self to its current social environment. “The valuable is that
which has survived on account of its utility,” he says in Darwin
and the Humanities (1909). To Baldwin the ultimate reality is
“just all the contents of consciousness so far as organized or
capable of organization in aesthetic or artistic form.” Tradition,
interpreted as the current “community’s sense of the fitness of
thought in their rule of judgment,” enables it to distinguish
between a genius and a crank or eccentric. His views appear to
be somewhere midway between those of C. C. Everett (who
wrote much good criticism inspired by an idealistic interpreta¬
tion of Spencer) and those of John Dewey, instrumentalist and
relativist. (Dewey’s aesthetic functionalism was not fully ex¬
pressed until 1925, although his general philosophy may have
influenced criticism earlier.)
Somewhat in line with E. C. Stedman’s first chapter of Vic¬
torian Poets (1874), the influential Brander Matthews thought
that evolution, one of the four major legacies of the nineteenth
century, had “helped” authors (cf. Ibsen’s use of “heredity” as
like Greek fate), and had “wholly transformed” criticism. It
must now view an author as “an organ of the society in which
he had been brought up, since the material upon which he works
is the whole complex of conceptions, religious, imaginative and
ethical, which forms his mental atmosphere.” While he acknowl¬
edged that “science fails if we ask too much,” Matthews followed
Taine in seeking to “relate a work of art ... to its environment”
and to see it as “a contribution of its species made by a given
people at a given period.” Naturally, therefore, such evolution¬
ary concepts led him to urge (in “The Whole Duty of Critics”,
1892), the kind of criticism which is relative, descriptive, and
inspired by sympathetic appreciation. (His genial colleague at
Columbia, W. P. Trent, wrote several essays involving about the
1955] Clark — Influence of Science on Literary Criticism 131
same attitude toward science and criticism. See, e.g., “Literature
and Science” in Greatness in Literature, 1905.)
W. C. Brownell is not an historical but a judicial critic who
finds “the true criterion ... in the rationalizing of taste.” He
recognizes the scientific spirit (with democracy) as one of “the
two supreme influences on the nineteenth century,” as dominat¬
ing its best intellects, and he censures Carlyle for his indiffer¬
ence to it. For to Brownell the “scientific spirit signifies poise
between hypothesis and verification, between statement and
proof, between appearance and reality,” and it has been “a tonic
force” on literature. For a critic to oppose science as hostile to
art is “to waste one’s breath,” for science has given nature “new
dignity”; she cannot be studied too closely, nor too long,” for
science increases our “sense of the immensity, the immeasur¬
ableness of things. Yet he finds Tennyson’s use of science “un¬
satisfying.” Because of “the scientific turn of her genius,”
George Eliot makes her plots depend on “what her characters
think. The characters are individualized by their mental com¬
plexions, their evolution is a mental one.” Brownell thinks that
perhaps because of her “friendship with Mr. Spencer” and her
“prolonged excursion into the realm of science,” her characters
“were data of an inexorable mental concatenation . . . [of] cause
and effect, the law of moral fatality informing and connecting
them. Since the time of the Greek drama this law has never been
brought out more eloquently, more cogently, more inexorably,
. . . more baldly.” But at the same time she makes human respon¬
sibility perfectly plain. He quotes George Eliot as saying that
Tito “was experiencing that inexorable law of human souls that
we prepare ourselves for sudden deeds by the reiterated choice
of good or evil that determines character,” and he praises her
“tonic of stoicism” and contagious “courage,” noting that this
derives not from religion (which is “quite neglected” in her
work) but from her “scientific” reading to life.
There were at least four movements counter to evolutionary
criticism, in America before 1910. The first involved the revival
of Waverleyism at the end of the century, as well as attempts to
justify a literature of entertainment and of escapism in time
and place. (Cf. Marion Crawford’s “The Novel— What is It?”
(1893). Second, the evolutionists’ revelation of the ruthlessness
of the struggle for existence and supermanism led some writers
(following the later Howells) to use this revelation as proof
that to be effective democracy must be implemented by a
“planned economy” to safeguard equality of opportunity, and
hence, reacting against evolution, there developed a considerable
132 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
demand for a literature of propaganda and social reconstruction.
(See Bibliography in C. C. Regier’s Era of the Muckrakers , and
the bibliographies in American Literature by Lisle A. Rose.)
Third, finding “something bleak and terrifying” in the isolated
position of man since science has postulated him as an infini¬
tesimal bubble on an unimportant planet, “a brother to the
lizard,” with “no purpose,” Joseph Huneker represents the im¬
pressionistic critics who sought psychological compensation for
this sense of littleness and thralldom to blind forces by trying to
become Iconoclasts (1905), Egotists (1909), and anarchists in
terms of capricious personal taste. Fourth, there is a more pro¬
found judicial group of critics who took high ground among the
ancient Greeks. George Santayana thought that even Dante
shows “loss in breadth” and Shakespeare a “notable loss in
taste,” and sought not to explain or to describe but to evaluate
a literature of change by the yardstick of the unchanging “moral
indentity of all ages,” by “that element in the past which was
vital and which remains eternal.” He thinks that science can only
lead to a “Poetry of Barbarism” as in Browning and Whitman,
that “our knowledge is a torch of smoky pine.” Conversely San¬
tayana’s Three Philosophical Poets: Lucretius , Dante, and
Goethe (1910) are taken to represent beyond their “diversity
. . . a unity of a higher kind.” There is not time here to debate
the question whether the “wisdom of the ages” is constant,
whether, with slavery and the degradation of women, “the
Homeric times” can actually be called “the sweetest and sanest
that the world has ever known” and so used as a suitable yard¬
stick for our best ideals today. But in admitting that the life of
the mind is fantasy and that he is really a naturalist, Santayana*
would appear
“To hope till hope creates from its own wreck
The thing it contemplates.”
* In Santayana’s Poetry and Religion (1900) in the essay “Platonic Love in
Some Italian Poets” he pays homage to “that pursuit of something- permanent in
a world of change, of something absolute in a world of relativity, which was the
essence of the Platonic philosophy” (p. 137). Conversely, in another essay, he says,
“Natural science, like pantheism, presents us with a universal flux, in which some¬
thing, we know not what, moves, we know not why, we know not whither” (p. 241).
He fears the coming of the “greatest calamity” as a result of people without re¬
ligious or poetic imagination when they may “be reduced to confessing that while
they had mastered the mechanical forces of Nature, both by science and by the
arts, they had become incapable of mastering themselves . . .” (p. 116) And in
“The Elements of Poetry” in this volume he concludes, “And just because the world
built up by common sense and natural science is an inadequate world (a skeleton
which needs the filling of sensation before it can live), therefore the moment when
we realize its inadequacy is the moment when the higher arts find their opportu¬
nity” (p. 269). But in The Sense of Beauty (1896), pp. 20-1, he had insisted that
“if we approach a work of art or nature scientifically, for the sake of its historical
connexions or proper classifications, we do not approach it aesthetically . . . The
scientific habit in him (the critic) inhibits the artistic.” And he concludes: "Beauty
1955] Clark — Influence of Science on Literary Criticism 133
One of the most extensive if severe oppositions to the critics’
use of science is that of Irving Babbitt and P. E. More. Asso¬
ciating science with “endless change and relativity,” with
Vareity as opposed to Unity in the Platonic sense, they urge a
“reaction from scientific positivism” especially in criticism
(Babbitt’s Masters of Modem French Criticism , 1912, p. ix) and
a critical evaluation of a given book by the yardstick of the sup¬
posedly fixed unity of mankind’s memory (tradition) running
through the ages. They accept Emerson’s dualistic distinction
between the “Law for man” and “Law for thing.” The increas¬
ing allegiance to the latter at the expense of the former is blamed
on the “Baconians,” although Bacon is used as a vague symbol
and may not be “a direct or even an indirect influence” (Bab¬
bitt’s Literature and the American College , hereafter referred
to as LC, 1908, p. 36). Trying to evaluate literature on the basis
of an author’s self-knowledge which he thinks should include
free-will and responsibility as opposed to determinism, Babbitt
finds a symbolic significance in the fact that to him “the signifi¬
cance of Bacon’s moral breakdown h'es in the fact that it had the
same origins as his idea of progress” because “in seeking to gain
dominion over things he lost dominion over himself” (LC, 39).
In education Babbitt and More strenuously urge a turn from sci¬
ence to the ancient classicists such as Socrates (“Know thyself”) ,
although Babbitt thinks even classical study has been perverted
by German scholars who illustrate the fact that it is easier to be
scientific in terms of “historical re^tivity” than to be civilized
(LC, pn. 122, 138) . Since Babbitt disparaged scientific criticism
as dealing only with the facts of the past, disparaged what he
called a pedantry of originality and the superstition of the ‘docu¬
ment’ newly discovered, he doubtless helped to discourage lit¬
erary research by scientific methods. In The New Laokoon (1910,
p. 210) he found Taine in his deterministic approach to literary
criticism in terms of a “gigantic scientific formula” guilty of the
most heinous scientism, and in his Introduction to Taine’s
Uhistoire de la Litter ature anMaise , 1898, expanded in his
Masters of Modern French Criticism , he accused Taine of “sci¬
entific fatalism.” Babbitt’s 1902 Introduction to Ernest Renan’s
Souvenirs (also reprinted and expanded in Masters of Modern
French Criticism, pp. 257-297) praises his style, charm and
knowledge, but centers on the fact that “so ardent a believer in
therefore seems to be the clearest manifestation of perfection, and the best evidence
of its possibility. If perfection is. as it should be. the ultimate justification of being-,
we may understand the ground of the moral dignity of beauty. Beauty is a p’edg-e
of the possible conformity between the soul and nature, and consequently a g-round
of faith in the supremacy of the gnod” (p. 270).
134 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
evolution” was led to emphasize as a critic historical change and
relativity at the expense of the changeless. In his Vie de Jesus
Renan, using his scientific philology, tried to explain many a
miracle as a popular “distortion of some natural incident,” and
Babbitt (who later said he ranged himself “unhesitatingly on
the side of the supernaturalists”) exclaims, “As though, with our
infinitesimal experience, we really knew whether the ordinary
‘law’ may not at times be superseded and held in abeyance by a
higher ‘law’ !” ( Masters , p. 275). Although he rejoices that in
later life Renan was somewhat less hopeful about science (p.
280), Babbitt concludes that, especially in his literary disciples,
“Renanism has . . . come to be synonymous with some of the most
subtle forms of intellectual corruption the world has yet known”
(p. 291). In 1889 Brunetiere announced he was to seek help as a
literary critic from the doctrines of Darwin and Haeckel, and he
carried their method into the neglected area of the study of lit¬
erary forms, writing books on the evolution of the lyric, the
drama, and criticism itself as one of the forms. He tried to show
(in his own words) “in virtue of what circumstances of time
and place they originate ; how they grow after the manner of
living beings, adapting or assimilating all that helps their devel¬
opment ; how they perish ; and how their disintegrated elements
enter into the formation of a new genre” While Babbitt finds
this “literary Darwinism” is “defensible” when expressed in
only “general terms,” he thinks Brunetiere was “led astray by
his love of logical symmetry” in “the working-out of his system.”
In such criticism Babbitt charges that “the sense of the indi¬
vidual is lost” and Brunetiere disregards the author’s “deliberate
1 As editor of the critical Revue des Deux Mondes after 1895, author of more
than thirty volumes of criticism, and lecturer in America in 1897, Brunetiere’s criti¬
cal theories were widely debated here. Long lists of American comments will be
found under Brunetiere in The Readers Guide from 1890 to 1910. In his devotion
to formal craftsmanship, scientific analogies, good taste, and George Eliot, he has
some resemblance to the general position of Sidney Lanier. Morris Roberts’ Henry
James’ Criticism (19291 pp. 45, 68-70, assumes parallels to Brunetiere. W. M. Payne
in the Chicago Dial , XXII, 299-301 (Maj^ 16, 1897) defended his critical theories.
The introduction in C. D. Warner’s Library of the World’s Best Literature of 1897
(V, 2603—06) outlines his ideas of scientific criticism stressing forms and calls him
“the foremost literary critic of the present day.’’ C. E. Norton ( Letters , 1913, II,
253) praised in 1897 his “keen and clear intelligence, his intellectual principles and
discipline, his strong moral convictions . . .” His ideas of criticism were given wide
currency by summary in Methods and Materials of Literary Criticism (Boston,
1899) by C. M. Gayley and F. N. Scott, who find that while he may “overwork the
biological parallel,” his work on genres is “helpful” and “admirable’ (pp. 251—2;
65 — see index for a host of other discussions). Bliss Perry’s Study of Fiction (1902)
refers to Bruneti&re frequently on the evolution of forms, finds him “fascinating
reading” but thinks “popular caprice” may upset such theses (p. 331). Since Brune-
tifere was a conservative, his criticism of Zola was much used by those Americans
who thought Zola extreme ; for a very useful bibliography of American criticism
of Zola, year by year, criticism which usually debated the literary implications of
science, see A. J. Salvan, Zola aux Btats-Unis (Providence, 1943), pp. 189-209,
along with Salvan’s interpretation.
1955] Clark— Influence of Science on Literary Criticism 135
act of his own will.” ( Masters , pp. 325-26), possibly forgetting
that he, Babbitt, had just quoted approvingly Brunetiere’s exal¬
tation of “intellect and will” in his criticism of Zola. Although
Babbitt disparaged historical criticism as concerned with the
changing Many in contrast to the quest of the One, he himself
did some of his most stimulating critical work in discussions of
the history of ideas such as are involved in genius, imagination,
nature, imitation vs. originality, melancholy, etc. He was also
stimulating in showing the cross-fertilization of ideas — religious,
political, humanitarian, and literary. He claims that he does not
wish to abandon science but to mediate between science and the
“humanities” (LC, p. 170), but he also says he wished to center
his whole attack on “pure utilitarians” and “scientific radicals”
regarded as culture’s two “enemies” (LC, p. 113).
Paul Elmer More, who published seven volumes of his Shel¬
burne Essays before 1910, essentially shares his friend Babbitt’s
conviction that “the intellect is evidently dependent on intuition”
and that “both the One and the Many as well as man’s relation
to them must forever elude final formulation” ( Masters , 51,
371). But More, if superior in stylistic charm, was even more
inclined to base his dualism on faith or unresolved “irrational
paradox” (VIII, 249, in “Definitions of Dualism”; also 259, 297).
To More art is the attempt of the subjective imagination to estab¬
lish “the experience of the individual in tradition” of a highly
selective kind which must embody “the inner check” intuitively
perceived by individuals. Writing formally rises to a standard
of excellence in so far as the artist’s imagination is subject to
the control of “the unvaried inner check” (VIII, 265), taste so
checked being a universal canon. Criticism has thus a fixed cri¬
terion, and “in the understanding of dualism it possesses fur¬
ther a key to the main divergencies of thought and action, and a
constant norm of classification.” More adds that the true critic
is ever “checking the enthusiasm of the living by the authority
of the dead” (VIII, 265; VII, 219). More’s “Criticism” centers
on measuring any individual work of art by the “larger memory”
of artistic excellence running through the ages. He argues that
the “limitless impulses” in the heart of the romanticists is the
counterpart of the “limitless forces” of sciene’s self-creating
universe (“Huxley” in VIII, 234) ; and he charges both science
and the literature of the romantic nineteenth century not only
with neglecting the inner check but with neglecting the change¬
less in preference to change. His 1910 essay on “Victorian Lit¬
erature” uses this criterion: “If any one thing may be called
certain in criticism, it is that the quintessence of poetical emo-
136 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
tion . . . arises from the simultaneous perception in man’s
destiny of the ever-fleeting and of that which is contrayr to
mutabitie” (VII, 263-4). These romantic writers mainly forgot
dualism, he charged, tried to see the infinite within the changing
stream of nature instead of apart from it, and neglected the
inner check set above both instinct and reason. More then pro¬
ceeds to dismiss romantic literature in a wholesale fashion as “a
drift toward disintegration and disease” (VIII, ix). He cites
Pater as an example of those romanticists who lifted beauty
above truth, deified the sensuous flux, and lost the vision of the
infinite as an ideal above changing nature (VIII, 115). Science
and romanticism grew up togettier, and Darwin is said to have
expressed the law of change in the animate world, that law which
leaves no place for either a power outside of nature or a higher
and lower principle within nature but finds order in variation
itself (VII, 248). Although More disclaims determinism, he
thinks evolutionism has reinforced romantic critical impression¬
ism, carrying into art the law of change and supporting the idea
that there is no principle of taste superior to tne shifting pleas¬
ure of the individual (VII, 253). George Meredith is regarded
as typifying the new order in portraying no deep underlying
emotions and in emphasizing growth and change (VII, 262).
Despite some recognition of free-will, Meredith is accused of
over-emphasizing heredity and environment (II, 165-6) and of
not distinguishing between body and spirit (II, 167-9). Scien¬
tific naturalism and the “constant immanence of this philosophy
of change” dominate the form and substance of Victorian poetry
(VII, 259). Swinburne’s poems are embodied “motion” (III,
115). To Morris the world was merely a swift-moving succession
of forms (VII, 259). The chief characteristic of Whitman’s
verse is a “sense of indiscriminate motion” (IV, 203), and his
democracy was “part and parcel of his proclamation of the phil¬
osophy of change and motion” (VII, 259). Even Browning does
not often strike the universal note, and there is no hint in him
of a “break between the lower and the higher nature of man, or
between the human and the celestial character” (III, 163). In the
literature of the nineteenth century More finds little peace, be¬
cause, he thinks, peace is not of the flux but “in another and
purer atmosphere” (III, 255). The futile “Quest of the Century”
was to seek to “discover fixed laws and an unshaken abiding
place for the mind in the very kingdom of unrest . . .” (Ill, 264) .
If a critic aspires to agree with More about the One, difficulties
present themselves, since he was reared a Calvinist, abandoned
Christianity, sought in romanticism itself a “welcome refuge,”
1955] Clark— Influence of Science on Literary Criticism 137
tried to write out “a rationalistic system which was to be more
consistent than Spencer’s/' and then turned Anglican and verged
upon Roman Catholicism (Robert Shafer’s sympathetic Paul
Elmer More and American Criticism , New York, 1935, pp. 62-
64). Which One is a reader to accept? And like Babbitt, More as
an enemy of humanitarianism which might be implemented by
science seems to eliminate charity from Christ’s teachings: he
tells us that Christ “never for a moment contemplated the intro¬
duction of a religion which should rebuild society ... He no¬
where intimates that the law and custom of the world can be
changed; he accepts these things as necessary to the social sys¬
tem . . . Not a word falls from his lips to indicate that slavery
should be abolished, or the hierarchy of government disturbed
. . .” (I, 243-5). Since even the Fundamentalist presumably
would believe in The One and in checking evil, and millions of
such people produce no art, one wonders whether such critical
criteria do not neglect many other very relevant yardsticks,
such as, for example, matters of literary technique and form and
craftsmanship. Perhaps it is not surprising that Stuart Pratt
Sherman, the chief disciple of Babbitt and More, felt constrained
finally to conclude regretfully, “they are both dogmatic and
mystical, to an extent that makes it impossible for one to under¬
stand or follow them, to say nothing of expounding them.” Such
were the main ideas of those who opposed the influence of science
on literary criticism.
What services did evolutionary criticism render? I must be
brief. It helped us understand the practice of manv socially sig¬
nificant writers, helped to provide a reading public capable of
understanding them sympathetically as spokesman of the age
which produced them. Evolutionary criticism helped to counter¬
act subjective impressionism and a condescending judicial spirit
which was scornful of anything less lofty than Plato, Dante and
Shakespeare. Evolutionary criticism was conducive to obiective
investigation, especially in our graduate schools : accenting the
existing books as like a “given” in geometry, the problem was
“to prove” not how good they were but to explain historically
what elements and influences entered into their development and
why they had been fittest to survive competition with other
books. If evolutionary criticism evaded the ultimate problem of
yardsticks and evaluation, it did some good in correlating litera¬
ture with other forms of expression of American civilization and
in relating it to our social history, and thus arousing interest in
it as an index to what Vernon Farrington called “The Main Cur¬
rents of American Thought.” And by going back to primitive
138 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
beginnings and showing how ethical standards differed in differ¬
ent ages (cf. cannibalism, etc.) evolution helped to show us in
how small a period in relation to time in geological terms the
so-called “eternal values” have been dominant, helped us to
understand precisely what “the wisdom of the ages” involved in
the way of slavery, degradation, inquisitions, etc., and opened
the door at least for experiment, more humane standards, and
the free play of reason in a criticism which recognized the other¬
ness of past ages. In recent years the use of evolutionary doc¬
trines in literary criticism has decreased. But during the 1860-
1910 period such doctrines played a part in literary criticism
and graduate study which we will do well to remember. It is
good, surely, to begin by ascertaining precisely what an indi¬
vidual poem or story means by itself. But having done that, there
may still be wisdom in following the general program of the
evolutionary critics and in connecting all the individual pieces
of an author’s work in genetic relation to his life and the civiliza¬
tion which produced him, and of which he is thus in some
measure the illuminating spokesman.
To understand this trend more fully one needs to survey the
American reaction to Taine.
II
Hippolyte Taine in America*
Beginning in the 1860’s there was a strong movement in
America, due mainly to the influence of Hippolyte Taine, to
adapt the findings of the physical sciences to a theory of literary
criticism in order that literature might be scientifically studied.1
Taine’s famous three-fold principle that a writer was determined
by race, moment, and milieu seemed to encompass all the
vagaries that went into the writing of art, so that for the first
* Grateful acknowledgement is made of the fact that in this section on Taine I
have been greatly aided in getting the manuscript into its present form by John
Rathbun, a Research Assistant generously provided for this purpose by The
Graduate School of the University of Wisconsin. He deserves much credit.
1 Taine’s doctrines are still stimulating interest. See especially Winthrop Rice,
“The Meaning of Taine’s Moment,” Romanic Review, XXX (Oct. 1939), 273-79;
Chinard’s preface to Taine’s Inty'oduction d VHistoire de la Uttdrature anglaise
(Princeton, 1944) ; and Harry Levin’s “Literature as an Institution,” Accent, VI
(1946), 159-68, reprinted in Criticism : the Foundations, ed by Schorer, Miles and
McKenzie (1948). It should be noted too that contemporary scholars like Howard
Mumford Jones, Barr§s, Calverton, and Edmund Wilson think highly of Taine.
Jones’s The Theory of American Literature stresses the need for balance between
Taine and Sainte-Beuve and the criticism of Croce and Eliot. Both Calverton and
Wilson look to literature for evidence of social and moral forces in the age and
men that produced it. Indeed, Wilson ( Triple Thinkers, 1948, p. 261) argues that
Taine is best on the connection between literature and social phenomena, yet holds
that Taine responded artistically to art.
1955] Clark— Influence of Science on Literary Criticism 139
time art could be understood in relation not only to itself but in
relation to its surroundings. In the matter of race, he accepted
the doctrine of “progressive heredity” or acquired character¬
istics (following Lamarck and Spencer and in part Darwin, as
opposed to Weismann and DeVries).2 To Taine “termperament
and character” were determined not only by environment but
also by transmission through heredity. In his History of English
Literature (Edinburgh, 1873, 1, 18) he wrote:
“Different climate and situation bring it [the human ani¬
mal] various needs, and consequently a different course of
activity; and still again, a different set of aptitudes and in¬
stincts. Man, forced to accomodate himself to circum¬
stances [adapt himself to the environment], contracts a
temperament and a character, corresponding to them; and
his character, like his temperament, is so much more stable,
as the external impression is made upon him by more
numerous repetitions, and is transmitted to his progeny by
a more ancient descent.”
His definition of race as “the inherited and hereditary disposi¬
tions which man brings with him into the world and which, as
a rule, are united with the marked differences in the tempera¬
ment and structure” recognized both individual and national
differences, thus giving his theory more latitude than it would
otherwise have had. As Sholom Jacob Kahn points out,3 Taine
had worked out his method before Darwin but not his theory.
Darwin’s work provided scientific confirmation for the examina¬
tion of the environment to discover the persistence of traits.
“The theory of the great English naturalist,” Taine wrote, “is
nowhere more precisely applicable than in psychology.”4 Adapt¬
ing Darwin along the lines of the Englishman’s followers, Taine
used race not merely as a biographical factor but as showing the
quality of superiority in particular directions in a particular
environment. This took his criticism out of the area of scientific
neutrality by asserting that that literature was best which
showed the best chance of surviving. In other words, a value
judgment was implicit in his criticism.5
2 See John S. White, “Taine on Race and Genius,” Social Research, X (Feb.
1948), 76-99 ; and F. C. Roe, “A Note on Taine’s Conception of the English Mind,”
Studies in French Language, Literature and History (Cambridge, England, 1949).
One should note that Taine differs from Buckle in that Buckle thinks race has no
significance or influence, saying “original distinctions of race are altogether hypo¬
thetical.” (Hist. Civil. England, I, 127).
3 Science and Aesthetic Judgment ; a Study in Taine’s Critical Method (New York,
1953), pp. 43-44.
4 Quoted by Kahn, p. 122, from Taine’s On Intelligence, I, 81.
5 Cf. Martha Wolfenstein, “The Social Background of Taine’s Philosophy of Art,”
Journal of the History of Ideas, V (June, 1944), 332-358. Miss Wolfenstein’s thesis
140 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
But in the general sense, Taine’s method was to describe and
classify rather than to evaluate. Literature was valuable as a
document which told how previous generations lived. Only in
this sense was it valuable as experience. “It resembles,” Taine
said, “those admirable apparatuses with their extraordinary
sensitivity which physicians use to detect the intimate and deli¬
cate changes which take place in our bodies.”* * * * * 6 And elsewhere he
wrote: “Whether facts are physical or moral matters not, they
have always causes. There are causes for ambition, for courage,
for truth, as for digestion, muscular movement, animal heat.
Vice and virtue are products like vitriol and sugar.”7 Thus mind
and the productions of mind were natural, or material, and con¬
sequently were susceptible to the same kind of measurement as
developed in the natural sciences. The individual was subordi¬
nate to the masses. The masses determined literature, and in
turn were mirrored in literature.8
Before turning to the American reaction to the various tenets
of Taine, it is perhaps advisable to consider representative
American criticisms of his over-all philosophy. During the latter
half of the nineteenth century, there were in America a number
of philosophical cross-currents, each vying for recognition. The
transcendentalists, the personalists, the German idealists, the
empiricists and pragmatists, all delivered themselves of their
attitude toward Taine. The liberal Unitarian, James T. Bixby,
who sought to orient evolution toward Christian and spiritual
ends, argued against Taine’s study of the mind as a physical
organism, and held that there was a “chasm” between mind and
matter which it would be better for science not to try to bridge.9
Bixby distinguished between two great philosophical methods,
the subjective and the objective, symbolized in the work of
Socrates and Bacon respectively. He put himself on the side of
Socrates, and thus found himself in essential disagreement with
Taine’s main assumption. The place of science was “a subordi-
is that Taine attempted to study art as an historian and eliminate value- judgments,
but in failing to do so, he attempted to formulate a theory of value which he was
never able to coordinate successfully with his historical approach. Her article is
valuable in showing how Taine combined his philosophical readings with the find¬
ings of science, and how he strove to overcome an ennervating relativism by appeal
to science.
6 Quoted in Stallman, Critiques , p. 428.
7 Quoted by Edgar Pelham, Art of the Novel (1933), p. 232. It was statements
like this that prompted Zola to call Taine “my master,” despite Taine’s explicit
disavowal of the new school.
8 Much of this attitude was based on Taine’s pessimistic view of the individual,
whom he thought fundamentally bad. He consequently embraced the idea of an
elite and tradition. For orientation see Hilda Laura Norman, “The Personality of
Hippolyte Taines.” PMLA, XXXVI (1921), 529-550.
9 Review of Taine’s On Intelligence , North American Review, CXVII (Oct. 1873),
401-438.
1955] Clark — Influence of Science on Literary Criticism 141
nate one.” “He who takes it as his sole or chief guide will fall
into many errors.”10 No physical instrument had been devised
which could truly reveal the operations of the mind; and even
if there had, man would still find himself studying motion, not
sensation. Taine’s “bold push” to identify mind and matter was
thoroughly inadmissible.
Bixby’s essential point of view was repeated in the two essays
on Taine of William Kingsley. Kinglsey was a Christian trans-
cendentalist who believed firmly that “a mind with intuitions
and beliefs must be pre-supposed.”* 11 He consequently deprecated
Taine’s “molecular theory” of the mind and identified Taine
with the “associational psychology” of Alexander Bain and J. S.
Mill.12 In reviewing the English translation of History of Eng¬
lish Literature ,13 Kingsley accused Taine of critical poverty in
the latter’s inability to form “value judgments.” Taine could
give only “literary impressions,” and thus admitted implicitly
that he could not realize the very function for which Kinglsey
thought literary criticism existed.14 He attacked Taine on two
points : that Taine was writing his history not for love of Eng¬
lish literature but only as a major illustration of his literary
theory; and that Taine’s theory of art, however useful and con¬
venient, was basically wrong. To this end he pointed out Taine’s
espousal of the “development theory.” “He . . . declares his be¬
lief in ‘a pround evolution which extends from the formation of
the solar system to that of modern man.’ He accepts the nebular
hypothesis of La Place; and the teachings of Mr. Darwin with
regard to the ‘origin of species.’ ”15 Kingsley admitted the logic
of Taine’s position, that if the arts were products of the mind,
and if the mind was material, then the arts were amenable to
“rules.” But he held that this theory was “nowhere proved” ; the
mind of man was not a machine. “The historian cannot proceed
in his inquiries respecting the phenomena of the mind as the
meteorologist and the chemist proceed in their inquiries respect¬
ing physical phenomena. It follows, accordingly, that this book,
with all its originality, its sprightliness, and splendor of diction,
for the purposes for which M. Taine has written it, must be
declared to be a failure.”16
10 Ibid., p. 436.
11 Review of Taine’s On Intelligence, New Englander Magazine, XXXI (1871),
366-367.
32 Ibid.
13 New Englander Magazine, XXXI (1871), 542-578.
14 Ibid.
is Ibid.
i6 Ibid., p. 559. Kingsley disliked Taine’s dispassionate method of approaching
English literature and used Taine’s method to “indict” him : “. . . if his feelings are
such with regard to what we may call the externals of English life and society, it
142 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
More judicious and extended in his criticism of History of
English Literature , the Rev. John Bascom, in 1873 of Williams
College and soon to become president of the University of Wis¬
consin, argued against Taine’s theory on the basis of morals and
intuitions.17 Bascom acknowledged that no other work on the sub¬
ject had “excited so much attention, or received so favorable
criticism”; and he praised its style as “clear, animated, highly
figurative.” He liked its unity and “decided effect.”18 But while
Taine recognized “the relation of morals to English character,”
Bascom censured as “fundamental” the fact that as a deter-
minist Taine “understands neither the origin nor the nature of
the ethical sentiment, nor its relation to art.”19 The secondary
physical causes of race, environment, and epoch were “effica¬
cious” but “limited.” Taine “disproportionately urged” the in¬
fluence of merely “external conditions” ; Bascom, as befitted an
intuitionist and a clergyman, insisted that “the central impulse,
the most pervasive sentiment in man is the ethical one,” and he
emphasized “personal power” and liberty of choice.20
Bascom felt that Taine erred in his indifference to ethical good
and evil in art as well as in neglecting man's original intuitive
apprehension. Taine limited literary criticism to mere descrip¬
tion, as opposed to evaluation by ethical criteria. His psycho¬
logical doctrine which Bascom quoted (to the effect that man is
merely “a mental machine, provided with certain springs . . .
affected by various circumstances”) was attacked as “absurd”.
“It is not till we have mangled and dwarfed our mental science,
that we can do this thing.”21 He argued that moral values were
relevant to art, for it was precisely because actions transpired
under moral law that they engrossed us. But as a professed
liberal Bascom insisted that morality in art should “not curdle
on the surface . . . not separate as a thin cream to be skimmed
off,” but should be unobtrusively organic with the whole work:
it should be “as a fluid circulating in living cells, and imparting
flavor and aroma to the entire plant.”22 Thus BasconTs criticism
rested on substantial logic and on ancient principles which run
through Emerson to Plato. While he was somewhat verbose and
grandiloquent, he supported his case by well chosen quotations
is obvious that this French critic — with tastes formed under the influence of ‘race,’
‘circumstances,’ and ‘epoch’ — must find it still more impossible to feel any sympathy
with, or love for, English literature.”
i -Bibliotheca Sacra, XXX (1873), 628-647.
i s /bid., pp. 628-9.
19 Ibid., pp. 629-30.
20 Ibid., pp. 631, 633.
21 Ibid., p. 641.
22 Ibid., p. 646.
1955] Clark — Influence of Science on Literary Criticism 143
from Taine and on the whole had an air of temperate and earnest
persuasiveness and of rich humanity.
A somewhat different tack from Bascom’s was taken in 1876
by the idealist philosopher, George Sylvester Morris, whose
German-inspired philosophy was influential on John Dewey and
Alfred Lloyd. Morris believed that the ideal was “the living
truth of real things,” and he argued that to be whole art must
embody the ideal.23 Like Bixby, he felt that there were two ways
of looking at things : from without and from within. The former
gave impressions, the latter caught the causes and true consti¬
tution of things. The former was the method of science, the latter
of philosophy. “The positive [scientific] method, dealing only
with phenomena, furnishes no knowledge of the real nature of
things.”24 This was the method of Taine, not false, but incom¬
plete. But Taine tried to identify “force” with “environment”
and “development” with “cause” or “law,” and consequently re¬
duced his definitions to absurdity, thereby leaving the ground of
“scientific accurate observation” for the field of philosophy and
making a shambles of it all.25
William James’s criticism of Taine followed along the main
lines of his habitual criticism of the British empircists. In his
review of On Intelligence ,26 James concluded that with all its
shortcomings the book was “valuable.” His main objection was
that Taine avoided answering the philosophical problems he
posed. More particularly, he found that Taine implicitly contra¬
dicted himself between the first and last sections of the book. In
the first section, devoted to the psychological analysis of intelli¬
gence, Taine had embraced the nominalism of the British empiri¬
cists, that phenomena were concrete and universal concepts
empty of content. Then in the section on the metaphysical analy¬
sis of intelligence Taine shifted. He forgot his former point of
view and seemed “to admit to the fullest possible extent the
reality of general qualities as such.”27 However, James softened
his criticism on this point considerably, when he pointed out
that Taine seemed to countenance a class of abstractions if they
had some practical value ; on the other hand, barren abstractions
were always repudiated.28
Nevertheless we find M. Taine constantly forgetting this
point of view, and talking as if he found fault with the
23 “The Philosophy of Art,” Journal of Speculative Philosophy , X (Jan. 1876),
1-16.
24 Ibid., p. 15.
^Ibid., p. 16.
28 Nation, XV (1872), 139-141.
27 Ibid.
23 Tbid.
144 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
illicit class of abstractions less for their barrenness than
for the isolation and independent entity which their votaries
ascribe to them — for their appearing “behind” the phe¬
nomenon, not in it. But the abstract character whose reality
he admits must also be taken as independent of the concrete
phenomena in which they appear; being “the same” in all,
they are independent in each, and require M. Taine to pro¬
vide a separate plane of being for them to subsist in ante¬
rior to their taking on the divers adventitious peculiarities
which determine their appearance in their diverse concrete
shapes. This he often ostensibly denies, but virtually admits
in many places, and this admitted, his contempt for the
phantoms of metaphysical illusion ... is unjustifiable except
on the mere ground of their uselessness.29
James was irritated too by Taine’s assuming the truth of his
theory without feeling the necessity of proving it philosophically
or of treating exhaustively the “opposite” theories of Mill and
Kant.30 Again, he criticized Taine for showing superficial adhe¬
sion to the English empirical school but exhibiting basic dissent.
Yet he acknowledged that the book had enjoyed an “unusually
prompt success,” and attributed it less to the pure psychology
of the book than to Taine’s fame in other fields. He found Taine
“eminently” an artist, but he found him trumping up proof for
his ethnic assertions, guilty of neglecting “scientific rigor,” lack¬
ing in historical development. With all this, he still maintained
that Taine’s work on the intelligence was of strict stuff, “and
had its author written nothing else, it would give him an honor¬
able name and place in the brotherhood of thinkers, properly so
called.”31 It was “the clearest and best account of the psychology
of cognition with which we are acquainted,” James wrote, and
he felt that the book would play a leading role in the revival of
empiricism in Germany. If not completely favorable, James’s
notice of Taine was important for the latter’s popularity in
America, bringing him much-needed recognition and a sort of
prestige in being considered by a man of acknowledged intellect.
When T. S. Perry came to consider volume one of UAncien
Regime his view was almost wholly different from James’s.
Where James had seen Taine as assuming a theory without
offering concrete proof, Perry understood Taine’s “method of
work” to consist of the accumulation of “details and statistics”
without dealing in “general principles and vague statements.”32
» Ibid.
30 Ibid.
31 Ibid.
33 Review of Les Origines de la France Contemporaine , Atlantic Monthly, XXXVII
(May, 1976), 627-629.
1955] Clark— Influence of Science on Literary Criticism 145
Like James, he found Taine’s style “brilliant and picturesque,”
but felt that it was likely to pall. There was no relief to the color ;
the effect was to give equal importance to all events, so that there
was no clue to the relative worth of the various causes.33 Perry
was in general agreement with scholars today that Taine did not
apply his famed theory to his examination of the French Revo¬
lution ; but while he apparently perceived Taine’s conservatism,
he found that Taine’s study read “like the brief of an advocate
of the Revolution.”34 He noted that the book did not “present a
full picture of French life in the last century, and Taine’s ex¬
ample would be a dangerous one for all historians to follow.”
Yet he held that “once in a while such an impassioned book per¬
forms a duty.”35 In regard to Taine, one should remember that
Perry was in general sympathy with the principles of historical
scholarship, and sought particularly in his studies of Russian
literature to follow the historical method.
Such men as have been cited above were concerned primarily
with the inner consistency of Taine’s theory and of his ability
to realize it in his critical work. Most reviewers of Taine, even
while they had a philosophical orientation, were inclined to judge
him on the merits of his accomplishment, F. J. Weir, for in¬
stance,38 adopted something of the view of Bixby in holding that
together Taine and Ruskin exhibited a complete critical theory,
the one in studying the positive, objective phases of art in terms
of physical causes, the other in linking the moral and subjective
motives of art.37 On the whole, he was greatly impressed with
Taine’s work, even while he questioned the “moral basis of his
unique mind.” He praised Taine’s “vivid and forcible language”
and his ability to penetrate to “the motives and causes of his
subject.”38 The anonymous writer on “M. Taine and the Science of
History” in the New Princeton Review was even more extrava¬
gant,39 “Taine’s historical method,” he wrote, “may be summed up
in one word ; it is an explanation of history with reference to ends
in view, not as they should have occurred according to an ideal
aim, but as they did occur according to the nature of the actors
and conditions which determined them.”40 Accordingly, Taine’s
method was both “psychological” and “scientific.” It applied
33 Ibid.
34 Ibid.
35 Ibid.
36 Review of Philosophy of Art in the Netherlands, New Englander Magazine,
XXX (Jan. 1871), 44-55.
37 Ibid.
38 Ibid.
80 “M. Taine and the Science of History.” New Princeton Review, III (May, 1887),
410-411. Two translations of Taine on Napoleon Bonaparte were al°o reprinted in
this mag-azine. III (Mar, 1887), 145-163, and III (May, 1887), 289-305.
40 Ibid., p. 410.
146 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
psychological principles not only to individuals but to classes of
people and to political parties. It was bound to “revolutionize”
the writing of history. “The human mind is becoming more sci¬
entific, or, in other words, more precise, exacting, and compre¬
hensive in its knowledge of motives and means, and demands a
just intermingling of the inductive and deductive processes in
the science of history. Thanks to M. Taine . . . the way is paved
for it in his masterly works.”41
Incidental references to Taine abound in the literature of the
period. Emerson read his essay on Marcus Antoninus and pro¬
nounced his sentences in no need of mending ; later, after having
toured Egypt, he had dinner with Taine and Tourgueneff in
Paris, and the next day Taine sent him an inscribed copy of
History of English Literature .42 Lyman Abbott cited Taine’s
work on the French Revolution as proof of the “yoke” democ¬
racy imposes on people.43 Frederic Harrison praised Taine’s
study of the French Revolution as one of “enormous erudition,”
which pieced together every possible cause to bring out “every
feature of the great crash.”44 William Payne, a very influential
critic, wrote an essay on Taine and praised him for his “combi¬
nation of picturesqueness, vivacity, and philosophical analysis”
in his writing.45 Frank Harris sat in on Taine’s lectures at the
University of Paris, and W. C. Brownell in his trip abroad met
Taine and was favorably impressed.46 Whitman, in his notes
dealing with Leaves of Grass, refers to Taine and “his fine en¬
semble of the letter and spirit of English literature.”47 Bur¬
roughs in his work on Whitman has initial mottoes from Taine,
Ruskin, and Sainte-Beuve.48 And James Huneker observed, “In
France criticism is an art, and I have long worshipped at the
shrines of Sainte-Beuve, Taine, and A. France.”49
Amongst recognized writers Taine was of course well known.
Mark Twain referred to Taine at least four times, and Aspiz
tells us that “Hippolyte Taine was a favorite of Mark Twain.”
Twain admitted that Taine’s great history of the French Revo¬
lution (Les Origines de la France Contemyoraine) , along with
Saint-Simon and Carlyle, had made him a “Sansculotte.”50 In
41 Ibid., p. 411.
42 Letters to Emma Lazarus (1939), p. 6; Ralph Rusk, Life of Emerson , (New
York, 1949), p. 473.
43 Christianity and Social Problems (Boston. 1896), p. 111.
44 Choice of Books and Other Literary Pieces (London, 1888), p. 401.
46 Dial, XXIX (Oct. 16. 1900), 265.
«Van Wyck Brooks, The Confident Years (1952), p. 259, 398.
47 Complete Writinps, IX, p. 26.
48 Whitman , a Study.
40 Iconoclasts (1905), p. 214.
» Letters, II. p. 490.
1955] Clark— Influence of Science on Literary Criticism 147
1877 Twain wrote Mollie Fairbanks that he had been reading
“some chapters in Taine’s Ancient Regime ,”51 a book which in¬
cludes much about how the nobles in going to the cities withdrew
wealth from country districts and thus helped to cause famine
among the peasants. In The Gilded Age he has Laura try to buy
Taine’s Notes on Englani which she characterizes as “a volume
that is making a deal of talk just now [1873], and is very widely
known . . .”52 And Twain warmly praised Taine’s History of
English Literature, based on scientific determinism, and he
called the author “the most poetry-saturated of poets and the
Father of English literature! I call him the Father . . . because
he made so many people read serious books which, without his
advice and encouragement, they never would have tackled.”53
At the hands of William Dean Howells Taine fared somewhat
worse. Howells had only praise for Taine’s style, the “pictur-
esqueness” of his writing and the Emersonian overtones to his
manner. But he felt that Taine’s “distorted philosophy” de¬
stroyed the informative value of his books.54 He wrote that
Taine’s Ancient Regime “is not true, on the whole, though prob¬
ably it is not to be questioned in any particular. . . . Taine’s facts
are like testimony in a court of justice which, given without
statement as to motive or intent, serve the advocate as material
for working up the ‘case as he likes . . .’ ”55 In reviewing Notes
on England 56 he felt pretty much the same way. He admitted to
being deeply moved by Taine’s style, and he thought that Taine,
through his “facts,” “guesses,” and “lucky thrusts in the dark,”
had done much to bring out the complexities in English literary
history. But his final conclusion was that “We read him with the
greatest delight; and we leave him with penitential distrust.”57
Taine later had Howells’s Lapham translated and published in
France, and praised it highly.
On the other hand, Henry James, who entered more deeply
into the study of French writing, recognized and valued Taine’s
philosophy as well as his artistic ability. James’ book on Haw¬
thorne, endeavoring to explain the fragile flowering of his great
native gifts by the artistic poverty of the American environ¬
ment, as well as the controversy with Howells in which James
emphasized the fact that an American-born novelist could do
51 Mark Twain to Mrs. Fairbanks , ed. by Dixon Wecter (San Marino, Calif, 1949),
p. 208.
32 “Author’s National Edition,” II, p. 56—57.
53 Henry W. Fisher, Abroad with Mark Twain and Eugene Field (New York,
1922), p. 138.
54 Review of Notes on England , Atlantic Monthly, XXX (Aug1. 1872), 240.
55 “A French Poet of the Old Regime,” Atlantic Monthly, XDI (Mar. 1878), 340.
66 Atlantic Monthly, XXX (Aug. 1872), 240-242.
57 Ibid., p. 242.
148 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
better work abroad in an environment rich in tradition and
“color,” suggest the general influence of “the great and admir¬
able Taine.” If he “lacks saturation,” James said of Taine in
1912, he “sees with a magnificent objectivity, reacts with an
energy to match, expresses with a splendid amplitude, and has
just the critical value, I think, of being so off, so far (given such
an intellectual reach,) and judging and feeling in so different an
air.”58
In his four essays on Taine, James developed fully his likes
and dislikes. He thought of him as essentially a philosopher and
historian rather than as a critic. In his first essay on Taine in
1868, 59 James declared that he deserved a hearing insofar as a
member of another “race” had taken the trouble to inquire into
the English mind. He emphasized the picturesque quality of
Taine’s writing, and noted that his vehement and impetuous
style pointed up the “possible futility” of his theory of “national
and local influences.”60 However much the question might occur
whether “the description covers all the facts,” James was sure
that “the theory makes incomparable observers, and that in
choosing a traveling companion he cannot do better than take
him from the school of M. Taine.”61 Taine studied man “as a
plant or as a machine,” and this led to a supreme accumulation
of facts, and it was facts, rather than any petty “moralizing and
sentimentalizing” that the reader should demand. “. . . we can¬
not help laying down our conviction that M. Taine’s two volumes
form a truly great production; great not in a moral sense, and
very possibly not in a philosophical, but appreciably great as a
contribution to literature and history.”62 Thus James admired
Taine for the vigor and power of his intellect, his masterful pic¬
torial style, the range and intelligence of his observations. His
materialism and determinism interested him chiefly because of
their results for his style. Although Taine’s deterministic theory
possibly did not explain all the facts, indisputably it seemed to
inspire unsurpassed observation and description.
Several years later James was still thinking of Taine as an
accurate observer, master of a great literary style, whose philo¬
sophical theorizing was vital if it did not explain all the facts.
He held that Taine’s originality did not lie in his famous three
principles, but in the way in which he applied them.63 Taine,
68 Letters (New York, 1920), II, 226, 245.
159 Review of Taine’s Italy, The Nation, VI (May 7, 1868), 878-4.
60 Ibid., p. 873.
91 Ibid., p. 374.
62 Ibid., p. 375.
63 Review of History of English Literature, Atlantic Monthly, XXIX (Apr. 1872),
470.
1955] Clark— Influence of Science on Literary Criticism 149
James pointed out, differed from Sainte-Beuve in believing that
truth is not difficult to ascertain, and his “premature philosophy"
was therefore less “truly scientific."64 In actual practice, says
James, Tame played “fast and loose with his theory, and is
mainly successful in so far as he is inconsequent to it . . . his
best strokes are prompted by the independent personal impres¬
sion."65 His historical position was often insecure ; he passed too
quickly from general conditions to the particular case; and the
result was “imperfect science." His strength was in his style—
his eloquent statement and comprehensive expression.
Always, however, there was in Tame the “constant demand"
for facts. He talked, observed, listened, and analyzed constantly ;
“as to the value of some of M. Taine’s inferences there will be
various opinions, but his manner is the right manner, and his
temper is excellent."66 Taine was “alternately" a philosopher and
a historian, not a critic, for a critic noted “shades of difference,"
while Taine was “perpetually sacrificing shades to broad lines."67
It would be, however, a mistake to say that the popular reac¬
tion to Taine was completely favorable. The New York Times
called him “specious and fanciful," and David Wasson ridiculed
him as one of the “one-eyed seers of modern France" who
preached the “gospel of no-belief."68 Alfred Fouillee69 condemned
Taine's philosophy as “Spinosism superposed upon positivism,"
and spoke unfavorably of Taine’s attitude toward man as “dis¬
eased and demented by nature." Similarly, Warner’s Literary of
the World’s Best Literature reproached him for his pantheism,
naturalism, and fatalism, but also praised him in general.70
H. W. Boynton71 and Percy Bicknell72 noted Taine’s fondness for
anonymity, his “inexorable" determinism, and his position as
“spokesman of positivism." More restrained and perspicuous,
T. S. Perry seconded James’s contention that Taine was an “ad¬
mirable observer," who, if not a “profound" philosopher, was
necessarily accurate and “descriptive." Perry was especially dis-
64 Ibid., p. 470.
ihid
68 Review of Notes sur Angleterre, Nation, XIV (Jan. 25, 1872), 58.
67 Notes and Reviews , p. 104-6. In French Poets and Novelists (London, 1878), p.
190, James quotes Taine, “the apostle of the ‘milieu’ and the ‘moment,’ on George
Sand, and proceeds in his essay to show how Taine was right in thinking her “an
exceptionally good case for the study of the pedigree of a genius — for ascertaining
the part of prior generations in forming one of those minds which shed back upon
them the light of glory.” James remarks that in her case “the operation of heredity”
went on “very publicly.” For further references to Taine, see ibid., pp. 281, 235, 255.
68 Wasson, Essays (Boston, 1888), p. 368.
©9 “The Philosophy of Taine and Renan,” International Quarterly, VI, (Dec.—
Mar. 1902), 260-280.
70 Vol. XXIV (1897), 14399-14409.
n Atlantic Monthly, XCI (1903). 830-831.
73 “The Taine Memoirs,” Dial, XXXVII (1904), 104-107.
150 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
concerted with Taine’s “tendency” to arrange “all the world in
labelled compartments.”73 Such a tendency, he felt, substituted
an unneeded simplicity for the natural complexity of the event.
Balancing these views were the more discriminating and
favorable reviews of Taine’s over-all theory by W. F. Rae and
T. R. Loundsbury. In 1872 Rae presented a sympathetic inter¬
pretation of his deterministic doctrines of literature and sympa¬
thized with him for the persecution by contemporary reaction¬
aries. Taine’s study of Hegel and attendance at the School of
Medicine and the Museum of Natural History, as well as hostility
to the idealist Cousin, are considered by Rae among the influ¬
ences which formed Taine’s mind.74 Rae shows that Taine’s
preface to a prize essay on Livy as early as 1854 embodied his
cardinal ideas in relation to a discussion of Spinoza : in relation
to nature man is only a small part of a whole ; “man’s inner being
is subject to laws in the same way as the external world ; more¬
over . . . there is a dominant principle, a ruling faculty, which
regulates thought and imparts an irresistible and inevitable
impulse to the human machine.” The History of English Litera¬
ture is presented as “the event of the day, and the illustration
of the year”; his “rank among moderns writers [is] acknowl¬
edged to be very lofty.” The reader is led to sympathize with
Taine when a motion by the Bishop of Orleans, seconded by
M. Cousin, led to his being refused a prize in the gift of the
French Academy: it was charged that his History was “impious
and immoral; that its author had alleged ‘virtue and vice to be
products like sugar and vitriol ;’ that he had denied the freedom
of the will ; that he had advocated pure fatalism, had deprecated
the ecclesiastics of the middle ages, had eulogized the Puritans
. . . had shown himself a skeptic in philosophy and a heretic in
religion.” Rae admired Taine’s unity of purpose in expounding
and illustrating his systematic method in criticism. Versatile as
Taine was, everything he had written was both readable and
pregnant with reflection, with a pleasant flavor of their own and
“a stamp of originality.”
The same year (1872) the Nation, edited by the very austere
and influential E. L. Godkin, printed a somewhat more discrimi¬
nating review by Yale’s T. R. Lounsbury of Taine’s History, and
concluded that “he has written the best history of English litera¬
ture that has yet been produced,” its “crowning merit” being
73 Review of Notes on England, Atlantic Monthly, XXIX (Mar. 1872), 370—371.
74 Appleton’s Journal of Literature, Science and Art, VII (May 18, 1872), 542-
544. Edward Youmans, disciple of Herbert Spencer, was the first editor of this
periodical.
1955] Clark— Influence of Science on Literary Criticism 151
“catholic sympathy” without either aversion or preference.75
Lounsbury disparages the kind of literary history which lists
facts without dealing with principles, and prefers Taine’s
methods. “If it deal at all with names and dates, it is with the
single purpose of setting in a clearer light the history of ideas.
It is a scientific exposition of the changes that have taken place
in the intellectual development of a people, the causes which have
led to them, the results that have sprung from them. Its chief
aim is to trace those principles of thought and action which,
ruling the lives of men, have found expression in their litera¬
ture. In this view the subject leaves the province of annals, and
passes into that of philosophy. Literature is bound up with the
national life, and in order to know the characteristic of the one
it is essential to study closely the other. Race, climate, political
institutions, manners, and customs, all become of importance,
for these all affect the man, and necessarily leave their impress
upon the work he produces.” However, Lounsbury thought that
Taine showed “a tendency to push the doctrine of race too far,”
to strain it “to its extremest limits.” “It is in race and climate,
indeed, that he finds the leading characteristics of English liter¬
ature.” Yet in dealing with leading authors, Lounsbury found
Taine “always fresh, suggestive, striking, and what is even
better, fully appreciative” and “not dull.”
While there was some controversy over the idea of evolution,
dependent upon one’s philosophical position, most Americans
recognized the fact that much of Taine’s theory was indebted to
contemporary findings in science. His idea of race, for instance,
was founded on the tentative findings of ethnologists, and if
Taine tended to identify nationality and race, it was a failing
shared by many scientists. Taine’s critical theory owed much of
its popularity to its having been confirmed by Darwin’s and
Spencer’s work, especially the biological confirmation of organic
development of individual and social organisms. Sherwood Cum¬
mings argued that Taine’s idea of race corresponded to Dar¬
winian heredity; “surroundings” and “epoch” had reference to
Darwinian environment. By surroundings Taine meant “educa¬
tion, career, condition, abode,” while by epoch he meant the cul¬
tural heritage, the level of civilization into which the writer was
born.76 Taine, Cummings said, called race a “kind of lake, a deep
reservoir [of inherited characteristics] wherein other springs
76 T. R. Lounsbury, The Nation, XIV (Jan. 4, 1872), 10-11.
76 Taine’s History of English Literature, translation by H. Van Laun (Edin¬
burgh, 1873), I, 21, 21-25.
152 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
have, for a multitude of centuries, discharged their several
streams.”77
This idea was controverted by spokesmen of American con¬
servatism such as Orestes Brownson, who argued that scientists
should be opposed by all “sensible” men because their hypotheses
were stated rather than proved; he indicted “the Huxleys, the
Buchners, the Taines, the Darwins, the Spencers, the Tyndalls”
for “their lack of science” rather than their specifically scientific
findings.78 But where Brownson found evidence of intellectual
cheating, others found the very summit of scientific truth. Wil¬
liam Payne in American Literary Criticism (1904, p. 28) con¬
nected science and the “masterly” Taine and praised his method
of applying the findings of evolution to criticism. Taine’s method
was salutary, Payne thought, even if it minimized personality.
Similarly, John Fiske contributed to his scientific prestige to
popularizing Taine. In 1867 he wrote a sympathetic introduction
to Taine’s Philosophy of Art, pointing out specific examples of
Taine’s indebtedness to science. And in 1872 he edited a con¬
densed edition of Taine’s History of English Literature, in the
preface writing that the book was “an admirable one for the
student inasmuch as its brilliant speculations and lively criti¬
cisms tend to stimulate intellectual curiosity.”79 The preface of
R. H. Stoddard to H. Van Laun’s edition of History of English
Literature nominated Taine’s book as “the most acute, sugges¬
tive, critical, and thoughtful History of English Literature.”80
In Gateways of Literature, Brander Matthews pointed out the
link between the racial soul and literature, and, while he ad¬
mitted that there were other approaches to literature, argued
that in the “potent influence of heredity and environment”
critics had “grasped a true talisman of artistic appreciation” by
perceiving “the race behind the individual.”81 The very influen¬
tial W. C. Brownell, while he held tenaciously to the “ideal” in
art, recognized the validity of Taine’s aoproach, his knowledge
of the p^stic arts, and the need for critical disinterestedness.82
And S. P. Sherman ranked Taine with Arnold, Sainte-Beuve,
Ruskin, and Pater because of his distinctive contribution to
literary criticism.83
77 Ibid., I, p. 19.
78 Brownson’s Views (New York, 1893), p. 86.
79 The Atlantic Monthly in reviewing- Fiske’s edition (XXXI, April, 1873, 500—501)
praised his judicious editing and said that Taine’s “ingenious criticism” would
stimulate not only his followers but would provide a “method” for opponents who
wished to “differ intelligently.”
80 On. cit., p xiii.
81 North American Review . CXC (1909), 677.
82 American Prose (New York, 1923), 248, 295. 315.
83 Introduction to Brownell American Prose Masters (New York, 1923), p. xxii.
1955] Clark — Influence of Science on Literary Criticism 153
Reading Taine for the first time was for many Americans
tantamount to coming across a new gospel, especially for those
to whom the findings of Darwin seemed to sum up centuries of
scientific findings. Hamlin Garland’s reminiscent Son of the
Middle Border has told of his indebtedness to Taine in deter¬
mining to write a book reflecting the frontier of his boyhood
experiences. Longfellow when he closed History of English Lit¬
erature pronounced it a “prodigiously clever book” and won¬
dered how a Frenchman could so realize the peculiar English
intellect.84 Dreiser in The “ Genius” put his hero, Eugene, to work
reading Taine and Gibbon rather than puttering in the botany
and physics laboratories. 0. W. Holmes quoted Taine with relish
that Cowper’s “horrible malady of the nerves” had led to suicide,
Puritanism, and madness.85 But more important, it led E. C.
Stedman to adopt Taine’s method in writing Poets of America
(1885) and Victorian Poets (1875), in so far as they relate to
all but the greatest poets who transcend their time, place and
race (see quote p. 000). And William James dropped Spencer’s
Principles of Psychology in his Philosophy 4 course at Harvard
in order to have his students study Taine’s On Intelligence. “A
real science of man is now being built up out of the theory of
evolution and the facts of archaeology, the nervous system and
the senses,” he wrote President Eliot.87
In noting Taine’s merging of the individual into the group,
Americans took divergent attitudes. Some saw his theory as
sketching in the individual through analysis of the environment.
Others held that an analysis of the individual gave unerringly
a picture of the milieu, while others still held to the idea that
the individual was somehow above his time and must be dealt
with in terms of himself. These latter wrote meaningfully of
genius and to some extent tended to elevate Sainte-Beuve over
Taine as a critic.88
Members of the genteel tradition, like James Russell Lowell,
Hamilton Wright Mabie, and Edmund Clarence Stedman, while
they praised Taine’s learning and professional devotion, and
admitted that his whole view was not without grandeur, never¬
theless argued that the view that genius was unique was equally
true. Mabie pointed out that Sainte-Beuve centered on person¬
ality, and thus caught the complexity of the literary product.
Mabie admitted that Taine interpreted literature “effectively,”
^Life, (Boston, 1892), III, p. 195.
85 Holmes, American Writers Series, p. 415.
87 Quoted by Schneider, History of American Philosophy, p. 514.
89 Even Sainte-Beuve criticized Taine for not considering- the individual suffi¬
ciently. Cf. Nouveaux Lundis, VIII, 67-9.
154 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
but, he held, it was “somewhat coarsely” done in emphasizing
environment and the “experience of the race.”89 Lowell repeat¬
edly said that Taine assumed his “ethnological postulates” and
then seemed “rather to shape the character of the literature to
the race than to illustrate that of race by literature.”90 The
Critic 91 published several articles both favorable and unfavorable
to Taine; but it consistently held to the idea that too often his
criticism was “misguided” through too small “allowance for the
man of genius” and too eloquent praise for “the spirit of the
age.”912 The Atlantic Monthly in 1871 had rich praise for Art in
the Netherlands but accused Taine of generalizing “too far”;
and it cautioned readers of Taine to read him with “friendly
distrust.”93 As a “Christian socialist” (whose point of view he
celebrated in Murvale Eastman) Tourgee insisted that realists
and people like Taine, while right in part, erred grievously in
leaving out of their calculation the “soul.” Tourgee accused men
like Taine of thinking of man as a result of “natural laws” of
purely physical bearing, whereas the true picture was of natural
laws both physical and mental.94 Although Harvard’s Lewis
Gates, who trained writers such as Frank Norris, was mainly on
the side of Sainte-Beuve and the aesthetic appreciators as
against the scientific determinism of Taine, his essay on Taine
paid tribute to his ability “to redeem literary criticism from
being a paltry juggling with fine phrases and to give it a seri¬
ousness of purpose, dignity, and a recognized standing.” He con¬
cluded that “in an age of decadence , when the descendants of
the Romanticists and idealists are for the most part engaged in
dilettante experiments on their senses and emotions, such mate¬
rialism as Taine’s is as healthy as sea air.”95 And W. C. Brownell
wrote that Sainte-Beuve’s critical method was far more “consid¬
erable” than “the fascinating historical and evolutionary frame¬
work within which Taine’s brilliant synthesis so hypnotizes our
critical faculty.”96
89 Study Fire (New York, 1894), 2nd series, p. 156, 158. For Stedman’s ideas
consult Victorian Poets (New York, 1875), pp. 1, 410, 434, 194-6, 143.
90 Works, V, p. 124. (Essay on “Rebellion.”)
91 “Certain Exclusion from the French Academy,” XV (Jan. 24, 1891), 49;
“Taine’s Modern Regime” XV (Apr. 1891), 205—206; “The Late M. Taine,” XIX
(Mar. 25, 1893), 183-4.
92 “The Late M. Taine,” p. 184.
93 Volume XXVII (Mar. 1871), 396. G. M. Miller, Historical Point of View in
English Literary Criticism (Heidelberg1, 1913), p. 15, also praised Sainte-Beuve for
including the individual.
04 Murvale Eastman (New York, 1889), p. 113.
95 Studies and Appreciations (New York, 1900), p. 204. It is quite possible that
Taine encouraged Cable’s interest in racism. And Louis Sullivan, the master of
Frank Lloyd Wright, was influenced by Taine to call for an architecture in char¬
acter with the American people. Cf. Autobiography of an Idea (New York, 1924),
p. 233.
°® Criticism (New York, 1914), p. 79.
1955] Clark— Influence of Science on Literary Criticism 155
As early as 1871 William Dean Howells read and reviewed for
the Atlantic Monthly Taine’s Art in the Netherlands, translated
by J. Durand. His reaction was on the whole unfavorable. Taine’s
“love of generalization” went “too far.”97 He felt a “cheapness”
in Taine’s work. However, he did make a grudging concession
which typified Howells’s reverential and emotional attitude to¬
ward art at this time ; Taine, he thought, could be read with less
“friendly distrust” than “any other theorizer upon art.”98 Less
than a year later his rejection was less conditional. Although he
admitted to not having read all the History of English Litera¬
ture he alluded to Taine’s “jack-a-lantern” and “the sparkling
errors of that ingenious gentleman.” “M. Taine’s method,”
Howells wrote, “does not take into sufficient account the element
of individuality in the artist.”99 Still Howells expressed a prefer¬
ence for Taine, who worked from Greek life to Greek art, over
Ruskin, who inferred Greek character from Greek art. Later in
1872 he commented on Taine’s Notes on England, complimenting
Taine on his “observation” of the physical aspects of English
life, but also noting Taine’s “distorted philosophy” and “inability
to judge profoundly.”100
On the other hand Walt Whitman was all on Taine’s side in
the controversy over the individual’s relation to the group. In
Good-Bye My Fancy (1891) Whitman concluded that no great
piece of writing couM be adequately considered without “weigh¬
ing first the age, politics (or want of politics) and aim, visible
forms, unseen soul, and current times” which produced it,.101
And in an article in The Critic for December 8, 1888, Whitman
wrote : “If Taine, the French critics, had done no other good, it
would be enough that he has brought to the fore the first, last,
and all-illuminating point, with respect any grand production of
literature, that the only way to finally understand it is to min¬
utely study the personality of the one who shaped it— -his origin,
times, surroundings, and his actual fortunes, life, and ways. All
this supplies not only the glass through which to look, but it is
the atmosphere, the very light itself. Who can profoundly get at
Byron or Burns without such help? Would I apply the rule to
Shakespeare? Yes, unhesitatingly; the plays of the great poet
are not only the concentration of a 1 that lambently played in
si Atlantic Monthly , XXVII (Mar. 1871), 396.
08 Ibid.
™ Atlantic Monthly, XXIX (Feb. 1872), 241.
100 Atlantic Monthly, XXX (Aug-. 1872), 240-2. His earlier polite hostility to
Tainism differs significantly from his later work (1891) in praising T. S. Perry’s
historical criticism ( Harper’s , LXXIV, Dec, 1886, 161) and his own argument that
writers supply what “the nation likes, involuntarily following the law of environ¬
ment.’’ (Harper’s, LXXXIII, Nov. 1891, 964).
201 Complete Works of Walt Whitman (New York, 1902), III, 284.
156 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
the best fancies of those times-— not only the gathering sunset of
the stirring days of feudalism, but the particular life that the
poet led, the kind of man he was, and what his individual experi¬
ence absorbed.”102
The dispute over the relation of the individual and the com¬
munity naturally led to arguments over free will versus deter¬
minism. Americans readily saw Taine’s thorough-going deter¬
minism and especially noted that it was based on the “mechan¬
ical” philosophy of empiricism and positivism. Many critics of
Taine, as we have seen above, adopted the time honored Amer¬
ican position that even in the midst of necessity the individual
had a modicum of self-determination. This was in reality even
Whitman’s position. But Taine’s writings brought the discussion
again into the open. Mark Twain admitted that his reading of
Taine and Sainte-Simon and Carlyle had been “influenced and
changed, little by little, by life and environment,” so that his
sympathies for various factions of the French Revolution had
changed.103 The Sewanee Review in tracing the evolution of
French criticism emphasized the note of determinism and anti¬
individualism in Taine, and pronounced his theorizing “relent¬
less and inadequate.”104 The Danish George Brandes, who was
widely read in America, and who is generally regarded today as
Taine’s disciple, wrote that Taine “was and remained my greatly
loved master and deliverer, even though I mistrusted his essential
teachings.” But Brandes himself thought his writings a protest
against Taine because he approached the individual through the
group rather than dismissing the individual in Taine’s fashion.105
The much respected Francis Gummere, in an essay on “Whitman
and Taine” (1911), admitted to the general “rightness” of
Taine’s theory, but held tenaciously to the dual action of indi¬
vidual and group ; “had he [Taine] seen the great dualism here,
as one must see it in the universe, as play and interplay of cen¬
trifugal and centripetal forces, he would have achieved the whole
instead of the half success.”106 Taine refused to accept the genius
as an “independent force in poetry,” and this had been his
“fundamental error in poetics.”107
One result of Taine’s thought in America was to confirm the
American tendency toward folk and regional literature. These
103 Quoted by Richard M. Bucke, M.D. Walt Whitman (Philadelphia, 1883), p. 12.
103 Letters (Aug-. 22, 1887), II, 490.
ioi “Evo’ution ot’ French Criticism.” Ill (Auer. 1895), 396. 397.
305 V. W. Brooks in Scenes & Portraits (New York, 1954), p. 223, says that in
meeting- Brandes in London in 1913 the latter admitted to being heavily influenced
by Taine. And Einar Haugen has told me that Brandes once admitted to being a
“thorough-going determinist and positivist.”
i°6 Francis Gummere, Democracy and Poetry (Boston, 1911), p. 138.
™ Ibid., p. 139.
1955] Clark — Influence of Science on Literary Criticism 157
had had a long tradition in America, born of the frontier spirit
as well as simple curiosity about various facets of the American
character. Taine’s theory put the philosophical imprimatur on
such writing, so that Mark Twain, in answering Paul Bourget,
argued that there could be no one American literature but a
number of regional literatures, since a writer could know only
that immediately about him. It was open admittance that the
individual was determined not only by heredity but also by envi¬
ronment. In the final analysis Howells thought Taine’s method
of showing the influence of environment on art “admirably bril¬
liant and effective,” even though he felt it somewhat onesided.109
Besides these general incidents,110 Taine’s emphasis on environ¬
ment prompted American artists like Hamlin Garland, Edward
Eggleston, and Edward Bellamy to write their historical novels
as direct expressions of American regional life. On his first trip
to Boston Garland procured an expurgated volume of Taine and
found there all his nascent speculations confirmed. “The Amer¬
ican artist must grow out of American conditions and reflect
them without deprecatory shrug or spoken apology,” he later
wrote.111 In 1886 Garland wrote Whitman that he had begun
writing an outline study of the “evolution of American Thought”
and referred to Spencer, Taine and Whitman as main inspira¬
tions of his work.112 In A Son of the Middle Border Garland
sang the praises of the future and told how he derived “the
principles which govern a nation’s self-expression” from Taine,
“pondering all the great Frenchman had to say of race, environ¬
ment, and momentum,”113 for, as Taine said, “every living thing
is held in the iron grasp of necessity.” Shortly after, Garland
formulated his “great principle” underlying “a really vital and
original literature” : “American literature, in order to be great,
must be national, and in order to be national, must deal with
conditions peculiar to our own land and climate.”
In view of Garland’s statement that Edward Eggleston was
“the father of us all,” it is instructive to note Eggleston’s intel¬
lectual odyssey from Methodist preacher to Darwinism and
Tainism and the presidency of the American Historical Asso¬
ciation. To Eggleston, Darwin and Taine were peculiarly fitted
109 Atlantic Monthly , XXIX (Feb., 1872), 241, quoted by Everett Carter, Howells
(Phila., 1954), p. 97.
110 See Everett Carter, Howells and the Age of Realism, pp. 98-101, for several
other references to Taine in America.
111 Quoted by Howard Mumford Jones, Theory of American Literature (Ithaca,
1948), p. 124.
1:2 Traubel, With Walt Whitman in Camden, II. 160—162.
113 A Son of the Middle Border (New York, 1914), p. 307, 387. See also Roadside
Meetings of a Literary Nomad (New York, 1930), and “Sanity in Motion,” North
American Review, CLXXVI (1903), 336-48.
158 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
to one another. He confessed to his brother that he had abso¬
lutely sloughed off all belief in a supernatural entertained in
his days as a Methodist parson; and he referred to Darwin: “No
matter what the subject under consideration, we later nineteenth
century people are pretty sure to be brought face to face with
the intellect that has dominated our age, modified our modes of
thinking, and become the main source of all our metaphysical
discomforts/'114 In his preface to The Hoosier Schoolmaster he
confessed that he had read Taine’s Art of the Netherlands, which
was, as this pioneer in midwest regionalism said, “little else than
an elucidation of the thesis that the artist of originality will
work courageously with the materials he finds in his own envi¬
ronment. In Taine’s view, all life has matter for the artist, if
only he has eyes to see.”115
Whereas Eggleston and Garland had seen Taine’s work as
meaningful primarily for literary work, Edward Bellamy was
conscious of the social orientation of Taine’s writing, and was
among those Americans who praised Taine as a historian who
brought clarity, vigor, and picturesqueness to the portraiture of
the manners and morals of an age. What he saw in Taine was
parallel to the social themes of his historical novel The Duke of
Stockhridge, A Romance of Shay's Rebellion (1879) and his
utopian novel Looking Backward '■ (1888). Bellamy admired
Taine’s “broad philosophical grasp” and the way in which Taine
was able to reduce the broad outlines of his theory to a complete
analysis of complex historical incidents. In reviewing Taine’s
Anden Regime, Bellamy emphasized throughout the “high ex¬
cellence” with which Taine had brought to life a “particular his¬
torical epoch.”116 In keeping with his theory of historical devel¬
opment, Bellamy saw the period of which Taine wrote as “a
unique form of human culture . . . very possibly never to be
repeated.” “The ancien regime was indeed a heap of popular
degradation, misgovernment, and oppression. Add to this the
rare fascination which the picture of a civilization so utterly
different from our modern democratic era must possess, by very
force of contrast, for modern readers, and it is evident that few
themes present finer opportunities than this which M. Taine has
essayed.” Bellamy especially admired Taine’s “methodical
arrangement,” his “sustained vigor of treatment,” his manner
314 Quoted by Gohdes in Quinn’s Literature of the American People (New York,
1951), p. 775.
116 Preface to the Library Edition of The Hoosier Schoolmaster (New York,
1892), p. 8. For a fully documented study of Eggleston and his relation to region¬
alism, see William Peirce Randle, Edward Eggleston, Author of the Hoosier School-
Master (New York, 1946), with extensive notes and bibliography,
110 “Literary Notices,” Springfield Union, April 29, 1876.
1955] Clark- — Influence of Science on Literary Criticism 159
of creating “a vivid and complete tableau of the manners and
morals of the epoch.”117
If many Americans were not disposed to accept en toto Taine’s
theory of historical criticism, balking especially at his mecha¬
nistic determinism, they nevertheless found much of value and
they adapted many of his principles to the writing of literary
history.118 The Nation’s acute review of Taine’s History of Eng¬
lish Literature 119 is a fair example of what Americans liked and
disliked about Taine’s philosophy. There were two ways, it said,
of looking at literature. One detailed the facts without relating
them to principles; the other sought to relate literature to “the
history of ideas.” This latter
is a scientific exposition of the changes that have taken place
in the intellectual development of a people, the causes which
have led to them, the results that have sprung from them.
Its chief aim is to trace those principles of thought and
action which, ruling the lives of men, have found expres¬
sion in their literature. In this view, the subject leaves the
province of annals, and passes into that of philosophy. Lit¬
erature is bound up with the national life, and, in order to
know the characteristic of the one it is essential to study
closely the other. Race, climate, political institutions, man¬
ners, and customs, all become of importance; for these all
effect the man, and necessarily leave their impress upon the
work he produced.
The review went on to praise Taine for writing the best history
so far produced and admitted that once given his premises one
could hardly fail to agree with his conclusions. Taine’s crowning
merit lay in “catholic sympathy” — -“the critical historian of lit¬
erature has no business whatever with preferences or aversions.”
But at the same time the Nation felt there was always a “tend¬
ency” in Taine to push the doctrine of race too far, and Taine
was, on the whole, too ready to see the English as a nation of
117 Among' lesser statements see the Nation on Taine’s “Naturalistic History,”
LXXXIV (May 9, 1907), 427-8; Willard E. Martin, Jr., “Two Uncollected Essays
by Frank Norris,” American Literature, VIII (1936), 190-98, where Norris admits
flatly that he is a literary determinist of the school of Taine ; and Eggleston’s
review of Taine’s Philosophy of Art in the Netherlands, Independent,
(Dec. 8, 1870), , in which Eggleston stresses the use of the common and
familiar in the artist’s own environment.
118 There was of course dissension on the part of recognized leaders in American
thought. As would be expected, Josiah Royce, spokesman of idealism, professed to
find little merit in Taine’s theory. In Fugitive Essays (1920, p. 372) he scored the
“ambitious failures like the magnificently planned and hopelessly unsuccessful
book of Taine,” and despaired of anyone achieving what Taine set out to do. Simi¬
larly, J. E. Spingarn, the disciple of Croce, wrote ( Creative > Criticism , New York,
1917, p. 39) “We have done with the race, the time, the environment of a poet’s
work as an element in criticism.”
119 Nation, XIV (Jan. 4, 1872), 10-11.
160 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
“barbarians.” But this reservation aside, Taine’s theory was
deemed worthy of emulation, and the magazine thought that if
more and better literary histories were to be written, Taine’s
criteria would be necessary.
This seems to have been the case for many scholars. Amy
Lowell in her preface to the book on Keats (1925) berated the
“host of commentators” on Keats for failing to link him to his
time and environment, and expressly stated that she had hoped
to give immediacy to her story by re-creating the era of Keats,
by bringing back “into existence the place, the time, and the
society in which Keats moved.” M. C. Tyler's literary history of
revolutionary times also eschewed the treatment of belles lettres
in a social vacuum. Tyler, who occupied a chair of history at
Cornell and later at the University of Michigan and was one of
the founders of the American Historical Association, owed his
critical theory to both Samte-Beuve and Taine, focusing on the
individual in the manner of the former and bringing out the
deep pattern of historical development in the manner of Taine.
He thus avoided any explicit reference to all-encompassing deter¬
minism or necessity.120 Montrose J. Moses’s Literature of the
South (1910) constantly stressed the relation of literature and
environment. While he professed objective comparative criti¬
cism, he actually was environmental in his literary treatment,
and began most of his chapters with sections on “Social Forces.”
Frederick Lewis Pattee’s History of American Literature, with
a View of the Fundamental Principles Underlying its Develop¬
ment (1896) and Foundations of English Literature (1899) both
were presumably based on Taine’s theory of race, moment, and
milieu, even though he failed to develop these ideas sufficiently
in the body of his material. The former was a school text which
announced an ambitious program strongly influenced by Taine.
The preface to the latter announced that literature was the
“merely natural results of previous conditions” and connected
literature and political history. The first chapter of the book was
entitled “Physical Geography,” where Pattee made some effort,
largely unsuccessful, to trace out England’s geographical posi¬
tion as a complement to its literature. Similarly, C. F. Richard¬
son’s history of American literature sought to develop the evolu¬
tion of American thought, although, as Howard Mumford Jones
points out, he was also affected by Matthew Arnold in his critical
canon.121 W. R. Thayer accepted Taine’s main principles but
120 See the references to Tyler in Howard Mumford Jones, Theory of American
Literature , pp. 103, 107, 105, 142, which plays up these features of Tyler’s history.
™-Ibid., p. 101.
1955] Clark — Influence of Science on Literary Criticism 161
added another, the consideration of “message” in a writer.122
And E. C. Stedman’s early writings also bear traces of Taine
and Arnold. Stedman clung tenaciously to the ideal of the indi¬
viduality of genius, and for this reason could not accept wholly
Taine’s ideas on necessity. But this did not prevent him from
adapting Taine’s general propositions to his writing of literary
history. “The most important art of any period is that which
most nearly illustrates its manners, thoughts, and emotions in
imaginative language or form,” he wrote.123 The critic “must
recognize and broadly observe the local, temporal, and generic
conditions under which poetry is composed, or fail to render
adequate judgment upon the genius of the composer.”124
Barrett Wendell, whose Literary History of America (1900)
is in many ways our most impressive example of Taine’s method
before Parrington, admitted that Taine was the “master” who
had helped him toward the understanding of literature.125 His
Temper of the Seventeenth Century (New York, 1904) is built
around grandiloquent concepts of how the Elizabethan age, like
“any school of art . . . rises, flourishes, and decays.” He chose to
think of “human expression much as one thinks of physical phe¬
nomena throughout the living world. Wildly various and strong
and individual as these may seem, they prove, in truth, nothing
more various or individual than cumulative examples of how
those great forces work which we begin to recognize as natural
law. When we take whatever fragment we like from the beau¬
tiful, confused intricacy of nature, and study its parts in their
relations, we find slowly growing in our minds an image of such
deathless, inexorable order as the mere contemplation of fact at
any given moment could never reveal. Astronomy has thus
emerged into colossal truth; geology too; physics is following;
biology and all the human facts which we may include within it
stand ready for deathless words which shall flash newer and ever
newer cosmic order into the midst of receding chaos. And even
uz Atlantic Monthly, L XXX (Aug. 1897), 231.
123 Victorian Poets (New York, 1917), p. 27.
^Ibid., p. 4.
125 France Today (New York, 1908), p. 293. He went on: “I had been disposed to
think that of all the writers of nineteenth century France none had been more
admirable than Taine, both in conscience and in influence. The fact that I had not
always been persuaded to accept his conclusions — particularly in the matter of
English literature — in no wise impaired my respect for him. He seemed always pre¬
cise, always intelligent, and above all incessantly suggestive. The vigor of his
thought and the animation of his style compelled you to more alert thinking than
you could have done without him. Even when this cogitation led to results widely
different from his own, accordingly, you gratefully acknowledged him as the master
whose stimulating power had most truly helped you. There was never monument
projected, I fancied, for which more general approval might have been assured.”
In the Temper of the Seventeenth Century (p. 30) Wendell echoed Taine when he
wrote that Shakespeare was “the most complete recorded example of the natural
law which governs the growth, the flourish, and the decline of the school of art.”
162 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
we students of literature cannot, and should not, resist that
truest imaginative impulse of our own time; we should be ana¬
chronisms if we were to content ourselves only to enjoy the
splendidly confused creations of the art we love — if we did not
eagerly strive to perceive and to define the relations in which
they really stand to one another. In fine, as in all Nature else,
phenomena appear inextricably intermingled.”126
The complex and inquiring mind of Henry Adams also found
in Taine food for intellectual consumption.127 Max Baym has
uncovered Adams’s references to Taine and the impetus the
latter gave to Adams’s own speculations. While Adams was con¬
stantly seeking the precise generalization, his temperament was
constantly warning him of the potential error in generalization,
and for that reason he could not give intellectual asset to Taine’s
simplified and all-encompassing theory. But like Taine, Adams
constantly sought for unity, and this unity was thought of in
terms of mind, or, to be more exact, in terms of the essential
monistic structure of the universe. Thus his interest centered on
psychology and especially on the idea of race consciousness, in
the manner of Herbert Spencer, Taine, and the later Jung. Like
Taine, he clearly saw the need for the study of relationships
rather than of things alone ; and his speculations in the Educa¬
tion and Chartres were efforts to achieve unity in a universe in
which unity was metaphysically impossible. Hence the need of a
philosophy of history in terms of psychology. It was psychology
that promised the only scientific means to establish a pattern of
order in a universe in which order was not pre-existent. Adams
owes his greatest debt to Taine in Mont-Sainte-Michel ani
Chartres. Here Adams felt he apprehended the subliminal psy¬
chological unity of a race, expressed in its architecture, its re¬
ligion, its whole mode of living, even its philosophical systems.
It was the unexpressed, even unconscious, aspirations and
habitual modes of conduct for which Adams was searching. He
cannot, then, be criticized, as some have done, for misrepresent¬
ing or misunderstanding Church doctrines and medieval social
organization; he was simply not concerned with these features
especially, or in isolation, and frequently in the book said so.
But he was concerned with pinpointing for a moment in time the
race, milieu and environment, and to this extent he owed much
of his approach to Taine.
126 Pp. 48-49 ; see also pp. 30, 128, 57, 85.
127 This paragraph is based chiefly on the findings of Max I. Baym, “The Approach
to Taine,” in The French Education of Henry Adams (New York, 1951). See also
the admirable essay on Adams by Robert Spiller in Literary History of the United
States, volume II.
1955] Clark— Influence of Science on Literary Criticism 163
In 1898 Irving Babbitt edited Taine's Introduction a VHistorie
de la litterature anglaise and included a short essay later ex¬
panded in Babbitt's Masters of French Criticism , 1912, which
sought to evaluate Taine's contribution in both the literary and
philosophical spheres.128 He noted that Taine's theory of the de¬
velopment of literature could be applied with almost perfect ease
to the work of Taine himself, for the work showed “most accu¬
rately" the influence of scientific positivism, (p. iii) This “mod¬
ern scientific spirit" was “hostile" to the old idealism, and sought
to examine experientially and empirically even that data which
religion denied it. Babbitt felt that such a spirit had its origin
in Descartes rather than Bacon, for by reducing the phenomenal
to a quantitative measure he had made it possible for his fol¬
lowers to more and more rule out the mind as qualitative or in
any way determining, (p. iv) With Taine, the soul had become
“a natural product." (p. v)
It was this idea, says Babbitt, that gives to Taine's work its
“extraordinary unity," for all that work was done to prove the
thesis. Taine was a naturalist and determinist, though Babbitt ad¬
mits that nowhere did Taine “expressly" formulate the doctrine ;
and the doctrine itself Babbitt terms “scientific fatalism." (p. vi)
The “weakening" of the older order had been followed by such
disorder and “intellectual and moral chaos" that Babbitt won¬
dered if perhaps the price had not been too great for the “scien¬
tific knowledge of life." (p. vii) Taine and his followers (Bab¬
bitt includes Zola, despite Taine's disclaimer) “failed to respect
sufficiently the mystery of personality," a mistake not made by
Sainte-Beuve, who confessed: “We shall doubtless never be able
to treat man in exactly the same way as plants or animals." (p.
vii) Babbitt himself felt that in every man there was a “frac¬
tion," a “residuum of pure and abstract liberty," which runs
counter to Taine's theory. And he drew some consolation from
the idea that the “era of scientific positivism" was, or seemed to
be, drawing to a close.
Yet Babbitt saw some good in Taine's approach. It had been a
necessary reaction to the medieval divorce of man from his envi¬
ronment. (p. ix) Taine had “devoted extraordinary powers of
analysis" to showing that man was in an iron ring of necessity.
And man's institutions were likewise; that was why Taine had
so opposed the French Revolution : the Revolution had sought to
128 Babbitt also wrote an introduction to Ernest Renan’s Souvenirs d’enfance et
de Jeunesse (Boston, 1902), v— xxxvii, in which he used nearly the same method.
Without in the least overlooking’ his “shortcoming’s,” Babbitt found six ways that
Renan could “become our teacher,” and he used the historical method to arrive at
Renan’s position in the society of his time and the impulses prompting- him to
write as he did.
164 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
uproot by force what required “a slow process of evolution.” (p.
ix) Thus “Naturalism has worked a far-reaching transforma¬
tion in all departments of thought by its twofold use of historical
sympathy and scientific analysis. In literary criticism, for in¬
stance, it will hardly be possible after Sainte-Beuve and Taine
to return to the point of Boileau — to treat a book as though it
had 'fallen like a meteorite from the sky/ and judge it by com¬
parison with an aesthetic code, itself constructed on a priori
grounds like a medieval creed.” (p. x) Because of “the labors of
the naturalists,” views of relativist composition ruled out for¬
ever the notion of a stationary universe. “They are not likely to
revert to the crude dualism, the mechanical opposition of the
soul and body, the ascetic distrust of nature that marked the
medieval period.” (p. x)129
Through all this we can see that Taine was widely discussed
by Americans, although they were not uncritical of his ideas.
They found much to value in his literary theory, but when that
theory was reduced to its bare metaphysical elements they often
found themselves in disagreement. Only a few were willing to
submerge the individual in the group to the extent that Taine
was willing. And many of them shyed away from his evident
positivism and his effort to interpret personality in terms of
material response. Yet they admired the general scope of Taine’s
work, admired his style, and felt that the theory could be adapted
to scholarly use in America. The year 1872 was somewhat a
critical year for Taine ; in this year the most reviews seem to have
been written on him, and to a certain extent his future reputa¬
tion rested on what they said. In the main these reviews were
favorable, although subject to some of the reservations men¬
tioned above. Freed from its doctrinairre elements, Americans
were sympathetic to his views on national character, national
psychology, race, the influence of environment and the moment.
They adapted these views to both their critical theory and their
literary theory; the latter found expression in novels of region¬
alism. The full measure of Taine’s acceptance can be seen later
in the century, however, once men like Pattee, Richardson,
Tyler, Wendell, and Farrington began their writing of literary
history. For these owed much to Taine’s influence and show the
extent to which his theories had been domesticated in America.
129 Taine’s theory is still discussed today. Edwin Greenlaw, Province of Literary
History (Baltimore, 1931), felt it necessary to attack Taine’s theory is being too
facile and praised Grierson’s Cross-Currents as corrective of Taine. Van Wyck
Brooks, especially in America’s Coming of Age (1915), employed a variant of the
critical theory of Sainte-Beuve and Taine. (See Zabel, “The Americanism of V. W.
Brooks,” Partisan Review , VI, 1939, 69-85.) In his dedication to Axel’s Castle
(1934) Edmund Wilson described himself as being influenced by Vico, Herder, and
Taine.
A GUIDE TO THE SUBFAMILIES AND TRIBES OF THE
FAMILY ICHNEUMONIDAE (HYMENOPTERA)
KNOWN TO OCCUR IN WISCONSIN1
Lois K. Smith and Roy D. Shenefelt2
Introduction
The study of ichneumonids in Wisconsin was undertaken to
obtain information necessary to make better use of them in com¬
batting our insect foes. Ichneumonid larvae all parasitize insects
or arachnids, either internally or externally. Because of the large
number of economically important pests among their hosts, and
the role which ichneumonids occupy in reducing their numbers,
the family is of great benefit to man. Before methods can be
developed to favor these insects by creating more desirable habi¬
tats, a knowledge of what is present and the ecology and habits
of the various species is necessary. Acquiring a knowledge of
what inhabits an area is thus the first step in a series designed
to take greater advantage of parasitic insects.
Adults of the family may easily be distinguished from other
Hymenoptera by the following characters. The flagellum has at
least fifteen segments. The sides of the pronotum reach or cover
the first pair of thoracic spiracles, and in winged forms extend
to the tegulae. The first morphological segment of the abdomen
is fused solidly to the third thoracic segment, forming the propo-
deum (which always bears a pair of spiracles). The trochanters
of at least the hind pair of legs are apparently double. The fore¬
wing has a distinct stigma, the first cubital and first discoidal
cells confluent (forming the discocubital cell), and, except in
Ophionellus, two recurrent veins. The venter of the abdomen is
never heavily sclerotized.
In this paper keys and other materials are presented to assist
in placing the adult members of the family in their respective
subfamilies and tribes. The taxonomic arrangement and nomen¬
clature follow that given by Townes in the Catalogue of Hymen¬
optera of America North of Mexico by Muesebeck and others,
1 This work was supported in part by the Research Committee of the Graduate
School of the University of Wisconsin from funds supplied by the Wisconsin
Alumni Research Foundation. Published with the approval of the Director of the
Wisconsin Agricultural Experiment Station.
2 Research Assistant and Associate Professor, respectively. Department of Ento¬
mology, College of Agriculture, University of Wisconsin.
165
166 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
published in 1951 as U. S. D. A. Agricultural Monograph No. 2.
While the keys and other aids to recognition included apply to
Wisconsin species, it is hoped that they will prove useful for
adjacent areas also.
Of the 14 subfamilies, 49 tribes and 347 genera listed in the
Catalogue at least 13 subfamilies, 39 tribes and 197 genera occur
in Wisconsin. The Catalogue lists about 2500 species; Wisconsin
has over 450 species, including a number of undescribed forms.
During a visit by the senior author to the Canadian National
Collection, Division of Entomology, in Ottawa, the Philadelphia
Academy of Sciences, and the United States National Museum
in Washington, a large number of specimens from the collection
of the Department of Entomology of the University of Wiscon¬
sin were compared with types or authoritatively named speci¬
mens, and many notes and sketches were made. Appreciation is
expressed to those in charge for permission to study the ich-
neumonid collections in Ottawa, Philadelphia and Washington,
respectively.
Mr. G. S. Walley and Miss L. M. Walkley kindly helped solve
some of the difficulties which had been encountered, and also
reviewed the manuscript.
Thanks are hereby extended to the Wisconsin Alumni Research
Foundation for the financial support which made the study of
Wisconsin ichneumonids possible.
The characters used were selected after study of material in
the Department of Entomology of the University of Wisconsin;
an unpublished artificial key by Dr. H. K. Townes (1943) to the
ichneumonid genera of the northeastern part of the United
States; the notes and sketches mentioned above; Plectiscine
specimens borrowed from the Canadian National Collection, and
specimens from the Milwaukee Public Museum. Dr. Townes
generously granted permission for the use of parts of his key,
with or without modification.3
In addition to the Catalogue already mentioned, the following
works were found to be very helpful.
Burks, B. D. 1952. A review of the nearctic genera of the tribe
Mesoleiini with descriptions of two new genera and a revision
of the nearctic species of Perilissus and Labrossyta . Ann. Ent.
Soc. Amer. 45:80-103.
Pratt, H. D. 1945. Taxonomic studies of nearctic Cryptini.
Amer. Midland Nat. 34 (3) :549-661.
3 The characters drawn from Townes’ key are indicated by the underscored por¬
tions in the keys. (Many of the characters have been modified from the original
wording1 or value in order to delimit them more exactly or to make them fit Wis¬
consin specimens.)
1955] Smith & Shenefelt — Guide to I chneumonidae 167
Townes, H. K. 1940. A revision of the Pimplini of eastern
North America. Ann. Ent. Soc. Amer. 33 :283-323.
Townes, H. K. 1944-45. A catalogue and reclassification of
the nearctic Ichneumonidae (Parts I and II). Memoirs of the
Amer. Ent. Soc. No. 11.
Townes, H. K., and Townes, M. C. 1949. A revision of the
genera and of the American species of Tryphoninae (Parts I
and II). Ann. Ent. Soc. Amer. 42:321-447.
Explanations and Procedures Followed
The following points were among those considered while con¬
structing the keys : Keys are needed most by people who wish to
identify specimens in groups not well known to them, and for
groups lacking relatively clear-cut, easily-recognizable distin¬
guishing characters. Specimens (from series which rarely
approximate the composition of those upon which the keys were
based) are usually keyed out individually, and individually agree
or disagree with the characters presented. Under these condi¬
tions, it is not usually known in advance to which group a speci¬
men is most likely to belong, or how typical it is of its group.
Therefore, to increase the certainty of correct identification and
the ease of deciding to which side of a couplet a specimen should
go, the characters have been delimited as exactly as possible,
and the groups divided where necessary. (However, since the
key is incomplete, and some exceptions are bound to occur, the
user should not expect more than a very great majority of speci¬
mens to be correctly placed.) It is believed that the advantages
of this approach will outweigh the disadvantages, such as the
greater length of keys often necessitated by it.
Only those specimens which are close to the borderline for
proportions given need actually be measured. For this purpose,
an ocular micrometer with a scale graduated into 100 divisions
is suggested. When taking measurements, the reference points
should both be in view; if structures are obscured by dirt or
other structures, appropriate measures should be taken to render
them visible. (However, no dissections are required, although in
some instances the genitalia may be retracted and thus require
pulling out far enough to reveal the sex of these specimens.)
Measurements should be taken to the closest micrometer scale
division for parts which involve a large number of these divi¬
sions, and to the nearest half-division otherwise.
The magnifications used in finding the proportions were 45 X
and 112.5 X (sometimes only 19.5 X), but those as low as 30 X
168 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
and 75 X, with allowances for attendant differences in accuracy,
should be satisfactory for most specimens.
All dimensions are maximum unless otherwise specified.
Length of structures, except for appendages, is from front to
rear ; for each appendage, and each segment of segmented
appendages, it is from base to apex. Width is from side to side,
at right angles to length. Depth is from dorsal to ventral, per¬
pendicular to both length and width. The length of the petiole
(unless a dorsal view is specified) is the distance between the
base of the sternite and the apex of the tergite (diagonally, not
along the suture dividing the sternite from the tergite). The
length of the abdomen is the dorsal median length. The reference
points for measuring the length of the thorax are the anterior
end of the pronotum and the most posterior part of the propo-
deum bordering the petiolar socket. The length of the head when
measured from above is the median longitudinal dimension par¬
allel to a line drawn from the dorsal margin of the foramen
magnum to the dorsal margin of the antennal sockets (the refer¬
ence line being held at right angles to the line of vision) ; when
measured in side view, it is the maximum front-to-rear distance
along a line parallel to the same reference line. To measure the
length of the mandibular teeth, use as a base line a line through
the point of divergence of the teeth at right angles to the longi¬
tudinal axis of the mandible. When counting the number of
facets, use as a row either of the two directions in which the
centers of the facets are closest together, preferably where the
curvature of the eye is not strong.
The system of wing venation in figure 66 is that of Rohwer
and Gahan, except that “areolet” is substituted for “second inter-
cubital cell”. The areolet is considered as present if the second
intercubitus, or a bulla representing it, is present; if only one
intercubitus is present, the areolet is considered as absent.
Examine the upper surface of the second recurrent vein when
counting the number of bullae.
Roman numerals with arabic numerals as superscripts, en¬
closed within square brackets, refer to plate and figure numbers
respectively. The wing figures were drawn with the aid of a
projectoscope, and the other figures by the use of a grid. Figures
1-46 pertain to the head, 47-180 to the thorax, and 131-155 to
the abdomen. Head parts are labeled in figures 1 and 2, parts of
the thorax in figures 51, 53, 56, and 66, and those of the abdomen
in figures 131, 139 and 153. Except where otherwise noted,
heads are drawn from a little above and to the front of a lateral
view, looking approximately at the middle of the eye; and
1955] Smith & Shenefelt— Guide to I chneumonidae
169
thoraces, abdomens and abdominal parts from a little above and
slightly behind a side view. The simplest way to orient the head
of a specimen for comparison with a drawing is to turn the
specimen until the shape of its ocellar triangle matches that in
the drawing. Orient the thorax with respect to the petiolar
socket, and the abdomens with reference to the petiole or apex.
Information on the usual appearance (or habitus) to be ex¬
pected in the various groups is to be found elsewhere than in
the keys. Ordinarily, an idea of the habitus is obtained only after
considerable experience with a group. Nevertheless, an attempt
is made to indicate characters by which members of the groups
are recognizable. It has appeared advisable to present this infor¬
mation in tabular form.
Table 1 is a series of comparisons of various characters
throughout the subfamilies. Each character is divided into from
two to live categories. In estimating the proportion within each
subfamily falling into a particular category, the species were
considered, rather than the genera.
Table 2 suggests the comparison of certain characters which
are useful in distinguishing between any two of the subfamilies
appearing in it.
Key to the Subfamilies3
(Collyrinae Not Known to be Present)
1. Wings absent [V52] ; or forewing shorter than 1.1 times the
length of the thorax (venation may [V66] or may not be
abnormal) .................. . . 2.
Wings present; fore wing longer than 1.1 times the length of
the thorax . . 3.
2. (1) Thorax much wider than deep .................. PLECTISCINAE
Thorax not or only slightly wider than deep. ......... . GELINAE
3. (1) Some or all of the segments within the central half of the
flagellum distinctly compressed, at least 1.5 times as deep
as wide [I5,6]; spiracles within basal half of petiole; discoi-
della not joining nervellus within its anterior 0.25 (measured
along nervellus) . . . S COLOB ATINAE
Flagellar segments less distinctly or not compressed, all less
than 1.5 times as deep as wide [I3,4] ; or spiracles at or be¬
yond the midlength of the petiole; ©r discoidella joining
nervellus within its anterior 0.25 .......................... 4.
4. (3) Areolet present [VIII114]; second recurrent vein with one bulla
[VIII114] . . . . . . 5.
Areolet absent [VIII106,113] ; or second recurrent with two bullae
[VIII110,113] . . . .
5. (4) Length of scape at point where apical rim is nearest to the
base equal to or greater than the greatest dimension of the
scape at right angles to its longitudinal axis (measure-
9.
170 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
ments not necessarily in the same view) [III44]; occipital
carina present [I2] ; a ridge or carina or a combination of
both extending almost directly from the antennal socket to
the carina or ridge which closely borders the inner margin
of the eye [III44] . . . . . . g.
Length of scape at point where apical rim is nearest to the
base less than the greatest dimension of the scape at right
angles to its longitudinal axis [III41]; or occipital carina
absent; or, if a ridge or carina is present between the
antennal socket and the eye, it extends only to a deep ridge
or carina which distinctly diverges from the inner margin
[HI45] . . 9.
6. (5) Males . 7.
Females . . . . . 8.
7. (6) Parameres elongated into styli more than five times as long
as deep at their midlength [X153] . MESOCHORINAE
Parameres less than four times as long as deep at their mid¬
length [X152-166] . 9.
8. (6) Subgenital plate large, its opening V- or U-shaped, and its
posterior and ventral margins in side view forming a dis¬
tinct acute angle (about 40° to 60°) [X133’147]; ovipositor
straight, slender [X147], exserted about 0.33 to 1.0 times
the length of the petiole; dorsal valvulae about 5-15 times
as long as deep at their midlength, and in side view with
the dorsal and ventral margins parallel most of their
length [X147] . MESOCHORINAE
Subgenital plate or ovipositor or dorsal valvulae of other con¬
formation . . . . . . . . 9.
9. (4, 5, 7, 8) Forewing less than 4 mm. long . 10.
Forewing at least 4 mm. long . . .11.
10. (9) Labrum projecting more than half the median depth of the
clypeus as a broad semicircular plate [III35] ; stigma not
more than 2.33 times as long as wide [VIII113] ; propodeum
with about 13 areas enclosed by carinae. ORTHOPELMATINAE
Labrum hidden or projecting less than half the median depth
of the clypeus [III32,33] ; or the stigma at least 2.5 times as
long as wide [VIII03-112] ; propodeum with any number of
enclosed areas . . . . . . 11.
11. (9,10) Forewing not more than 7.5 mm. long . . .12.
Forewing at least 7.5 mm. long . . .23.
12. (11) Mandibular teeth subequal in length; tip of ventral tooth
pointed; apex of dorsal tooth much broader than that of
ventral tooth, and truncate, concave or angularly notched
[III38] . . ....13.
Mandibular teeth otherwise [III32,36,43] . 14.
13. (12) Petiole less than twice as long as wide at its midlength, much
broader than deep, and with parallel or subparallel sides
[X135] . DIPLAZONINAE
Petiole more than twice as long as wide across middle
[X133 134] and of any shape [X130-143] . .
14.
1955] Smith & Shenefelt — Guide to I chneumonidae
171
14. (12,13) Occipital carina absent; mandible narrow (in relation to the
size of the head) [III36], its basal width not greater than
the combined diameters of a row of six contiguous eye
facets; center of apex of sternite of petiole at or in front
of the middle of the petiole . . . . . ORTHOCENTRINAE
Occipital carina present (may be incomplete); or mandible
wider [III31’33’30], its basal width greater than the combined
diameters of a row of six contiguous eye facets; or center
of apex of petiolar sternite within the apical half of the
petiole . . . . . . . . 15.
15. (14) Second recurrent with one bulla. . 16.
Second recurrent with two bullae . . . . . .19.
16. (15) Center of apex of petiolar sternite at or in front of the middle
of the petiole; femora stout, those of the middle and hind
legs not more than 3.5 times as long as their greatest
transverse dimension . . . . 17.
Center of apex of petiolar sternite within the apical half of
the petiole; or middle or hind femora slenderer . 24.
17. (16) Areolet absent [IX120], or present and petiolate [IX110] or sub-
petiolate anteriorly; discoidella joining nervellus within its
posterior three-fourths (measured along nervellus)
[IX1UM80] ; hind tibia with two apical spurs the shorter of
which is not more than two-thirds the length of the longer
[V56], or with only one apical spur [V61] . 18.
Areolet present and sessile anteriorly; or discoidella joining
nervellus within its anterior fourth [VIII103] ; or the shorter
of the two apical spurs of the hind tibia more than two-
thirds the length of the longer [V59] . . 24.
18. (17) Postero-lateral margin of the mesoscutum (between the ante¬
rior end of the carina bordering the side of the pre-scutellar
depression and the posterior end of the carina bordering the
lateral margin of the mesoscutum) bordered by a distinct
complete carina with vertical sides (which may be running
along the crest of a slight ridge) [IV49-51]; hind tibia with
two apical spurs . . . . 24.
Postero-lateral margin of the mesoscutum not or only in¬
completely bordered by a carina (a low rounded ridge, or
a carina interrupted for part of its length by such a ridge,
may be present, or both may be absent. Examine from sev¬
eral angles, as reflections from some angles may give the
illusion of a carina that does not exist.) [IV48] ; or hind
tibia with one apical spur . . . .METOPIINAE
19. (15) Basal width of mandible not greater than the combined diame¬
ters of a row of ten contiguous eye facets; hind tibia with
two small spurs, the longer not more than five times the
length of the apical or subapical fringe of setae (which may
be dense and conspicuous) on the inner side of the hind tibia
[V59] . . . . . . 20.
Basal width of mandible greater than the combined diameters
of a row of ten contiguous eye facets; or hind tibia without
spurs, with one spur [V01], or with two spurs the longer of
which is more than five times the length of the apical or
subapical setae (which may or may not form a fringe) on
the inner side of the hind tibia . 36.
172 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
20. (19) Sternaulus (which may be only a shallow depression poste¬
riorly) crossing a line drawn from the ventral end of the
mesopleural suture to the most posterior point of the back-
wardly-pointing angulation on the prepectal carina just
above the origin of the sternaulus [reference points for line
are a and b in V54] ; or the second intercubitus present at
least as a bulla and the two intercubiti separated anteriorly
by more than the width of the first intercubitus [VIIs7]
. . . . GELINAE
Sternaulus absent, or present and not crossing the reference
line described above (prepectal carina may lack the angula¬
tion above the origin of the sternaulus) [IV49, V54] ; areolet
absent [VII97], or with two intercubiti which meet or are
separated anteriorly by at most the width of the first inter¬
cubitus . . . . . . . 21.
21. (20) Thorax at least twice as long as deep [IV47]; or abdomen
beyond petiole with shallow to deep grooves or furrows on
at least tergites 2 and 3 (if not distinct, examine from sev¬
eral angles; these grooves or furrows should not be con¬
fused with striationg or other sculpturing which may be
present) [X136] . . .PIMPLINAE
Thorax less than twice as long as deep [IV48"61], V52] ; abdomen
beyond petiole without grooves or furrows, or with only
faint suggestions of elongate depressions on the second but
not on the third tergite (tergites 2 and 3 may be variously
sculptured or have slight non-elongate depressions)
[X133-135, 187-143 ] 22
22. (21) Face and at least half of mesopleurum granular or coriaceous;
stigma not more than 2.5 times as long as wide [VII83]
. . .GELINAE
Face or mesopleurum or both smooth or with different sculp¬
ture than that described above; or stigma more than 2.5
times as long as wide [VII97] ............... .PLECTISCINAE
23. (11) Second recurrent with one bulla. . . . .24.
Second recurrent with two bullae ............................ 34.
24. (16,17,18,23) Spiracles within apical half of petiole [X134,187’144] ...... .25.
Spiracles at or before the midlength of the petiole [X131,185 146] . .31.
25. (24) Abdomen beyond petiole almost entirely smooth and highly
polished; lateral carina or fold on the second tergite incom¬
plete, with the parts of the tergite above and below the fold
thin and of the same consistency; lateral margin of second
tergite not bent under sharply to form a carinate fold [X141]
. . . . . ..OPHIONINAE
Abdomen beyond petiole largely sculptured; or the second ter¬
gite with a complete lateral fold or carina (the tergite may
or may not be bent under sharply) which divides the tergite
into parts of unlike thickness or consistency [X131"140-142’143] ... .26.
1955] Smith & Shenef elt— Guide to Ichneumonidae 173
26. (25) Third abdominal segment compressed, at least twice as deep
as wide [X134] ; or face and mesoscutum granular or gran¬
ular-punctate; or forewing with a single intercubitus which
joins the cubitus more than half the length of the inter¬
cubitus beyond the junction of the second recurrent with the
cubitus [IX450] . . . . . . . .27.
Third abdominal segment less than twice as deep as wide
[X139]; face and mesoscutum not or not both granular (or
granular-punctate); forewing either with two intercubiti or
with a single one joining the cubitus less than half the
length of the intercubitus beyond the junction of the second
recurrent with the cubitus [VI77] . . 36.
27. (26) Areolet present and sessile, with the intercubiti separated
anteriorly by more than twice the width of the first inter-
cubitus [VII69] . .36.
Areolet absent [IX123’127], or present and with the two inter¬
cubiti meeting or separated by at most the width of the first
intercubitus [IX121’122’124] . . .28.
28. (27) Third abdominal segment less than twice as deep as wide
[X189] ; sternaulus distinct for at least half the length of the
mesopleurum [IV61] ; meso sternum without a complete
transverse carina in front of the middle coxae . . 36.
Third abdominal segment distinctly compressed, at least twice
as deep as wide; or sternaulus either absent or less than
half the length of the mesopleurum [IV49] ; or mesosternum
with a complete transverse carina in front of the middle
coxae [Vs3] . . 29.
29. (28) Spiracles within apical 0.4 of petiole [X134] . OPHIONINAE
Spiracles at or in front of the apical 0.4 of the petiole. . 30.
30. (29) In side view, sclerotized portion of petiole rather straight on
the basal half or more, with the dorsal and ventral margins
parallel or only slightly diverging; apical portion of petiole
deepest, with a moderately abrupt but smoothly curved
dorsal convexity (ventral margin opposite may also increase
in convexity) which includes the spiracles [X137] . . OPHIONINAE
In side view, sclerotized portion of petiole rather straight or
slightly to moderately convex dorsally, with the greatest
depth at approximately its midlength; or, if a dorsal con¬
vexity is present at or near the apex, it does not include
the spiracles but is well separated from them by a flat or
concave portion [X145] . . . SCOLOBATINAE
31. (24) Middle tibia with one apical spur; or middle of dorsal margin
of face projecting between the antennal sockets (above the
plane of the frons) [II16, III31] . . . METOPIINAE
Middle tibia with two apical spurs; dorsal margin of face not
projecting between the antennal sockets . . .32.
32. (31) Petiole with a basal concavity above (lateral bordering carinae
may or may not be present) [X132 136]; thorax not elongate,
less than twice as long as deep [IV48-51] . . . 33f
174 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
Dorsum of petiole flat or convex basally above (ignore lateral
bordering carinae which may be present) [X131,144] ; or
thorax elongate, at least twice as long as deep . 36.
33. (32) Discoidella present, joining nervellus within its anterior fourth
(measured along nervellus) [VIII103] ; or abdominal tergites
2 and 3 with two or more oblique grooves or furrows [X136]
. BANCHINAE
Discoidella absent, or present and joining nervellus within its
posterior three-fourths; abdomen beyond petiole without
grooves or furrows (carinae, various sculpturings, or slight
non-elongate depressions may be present) . . 34.
34. (33) Costula absent [IV^V65] ; and apical transverse carina strong
(distinct, well-developed) at least within its central half
[V65] . 35.
Costula present [V61] ; or apical transverse carina absent or
interrupted within its central half . 36.
35. (34) Opening of scape strongly oblique to the longitudinal axis of
the scape [I12, III37], with the longitudinal side of the “apical
triangle” more than 0.8 times as long as its base;4 * females
with ovipositor exserted beyond subgenital plate more than
twice the greatest depth of the sixth abdominal tergite
[X132] . BANCHINAE
Opening of scape not strongly oblique to the longitudinal
axis of the scape [III38-40], the longitudinal side of the
“apical triangle” not being more than 0.8 times the length
of its base; females with ovipositor exserted beyond sub¬
genital plate less than twice the greatest depth of the sixth
abdominal tergite [X149] . . 58.
36. (19,23,26,27,28,32,34) Areolet absent [VIII99]; abdominal tergites 2
and 3 each with two distinct oblique grooves or furrows
diverging posteriorly from near the center of the base of
the tergite (other grooves or furrows may also be present);
occipital carina complete, joining the hypostomal carina at
the base of the mandible [III33] . BANCHINAE
Areolet present; or abdominal tergites without such oblique
grooves; or occipital carina incomplete or not joining the
hypostomal carina at the mandible . . . . 37.
Spiracles within basal 0.4 of petiole . 50.
Spiracles at or beyond basal 0.4 of petiole . . .38.
Spiracles within the central 0.2 of the petiole [X136 143,145] . 39.
Spiracles at or beyond the basal 0.6 of the petiole [X134141] . 42.
37. (36)
38. (37)
4 To obtain this proportion view scape perpendicular to its major axis. Rotate
until the point on the apical rim nearest to the base [point d in I6] is visible at one
side, and the point farthest from the base (point e) is also visible. Pass an imagi¬
nary line (line ab) along the scape from the midpoint of its base to the midpoint
between points d and e. Measure the width (line ed) of the scape at right angles
to line ab. Line cd is referred to as the base of the “apical triangle”. Next measure
the distance between points e and e ; this line represents the longitudinal side of
the “apical triangle”. Divide the length of line ee by the length of line cd.
1955] Smith & Shenefelt— Guide to Ichneumonidae
175
40.
.42.
39. (38) Are ole t absent, or, if present, petiolate or subpetiolate ante¬
riorly; or mesoscutum elongate, at least 1.33 times as long
as wide . . . . . . .
Areolet present, with the two intercubiti not meeting ante¬
riorly; mesoscutum less than 1.33 times as long as wide. . . .
40. (39) Sternaulus present for at least half the length of the meso-
pleurum [IV51] ; or areolet absent but with the radius and
cubitus indicating by slight angular bends that the second
intercubitus would not, if it had been present, meet the first
intercubitus anteriorly (this character with a number of
exceptions in Wisconsin specimens in the University collec¬
tion) [VII84-85] . . . . . .41.
Sternaulus absent or present for less than half the length of
the mesopleurum; areolet present, or absent and the radius
and cubitus lacking these slight angular bends [VI78] . 50.
41. (40) Areolet absent; thorax elongate, at least twice as long as deep
[IV47] . . PIMPLINAE
Areolet present; or thorax less than twice as long as deep . 42.
42. (38,39,41) Center of apex of petiolar sternite at or in front of
middle of petiole. . . . 43.
Center of apex of petiolar sternite beyond middle of petiole. . . .44.
43. (42) Petiole with a deep lateral groove or pit basad of the spiracle
[X143] ; or abdominal tergites 2 and 3 with grooves or fur¬
rows making their contour irregular [X138] . 50.
Petiole without a lateral groove or pit basad of the spiracle
[X139-141] ; abdominal tergites 2 and 3 without grooves or
furrows [X139141] . .44.
44. (42,43) Sternaulus and areolet both absent . TRYPHONINAE
Sternaulus or areolet or both present . . . 45.
45. (44) Second recurrent with one bulla. . 46.
Second recurrent with two bullae . . . 47.
46. (45) Dorsal tooth of mandible less than 1.5 times as long as ventral
tooth [II19-23, III41] ; or propodeal spiracle with its longest
diameter more than 1.5 times its shortest diameter; or pro-
podeum with prominent projections . . . . . GELINAE
Dorsal tooth of mandible at least 1.5 times as long as ventral
tooth [II28] ; propodeal spiracle with its longest diameter at
most 1.5 times its shortest diameter; propodeum without
projections ............................ . . ICHNEUMONINAE
47. (45) Propodeal spiracle with its maximum diameter more than 1.5
times its minimum diameter. . . ICHNEUMONINAE
Propodeal spiracle with its maximum diameter at most 1.5
times its minimum diameter . . . 48.
48. (47) Sternaulus absent or present for less than half the length of
the mesopleurum; stigma more than 2.5 times as long as
wide
ICHNEUMONINAE
Sternaulus distinct for more than half the length of the meso¬
pleurum; or stigma at most 2.5 times as long as wide . 49.
176 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
49. (48) Junction of discoideus with subdiscoideus not farther from the
posterior than from the anterior end of the second recur¬
rent [V60] ; dorsal tooth of mandible more than 1.5 times as
long' as ventral tooth [II2S] . . . ICHNEUMONINAE
Junction of discoideus with subdiscoideus farther from the
posterior than from the anterior end of the second recur¬
rent [VII83] ; or dorsal tooth of mandible not more than 1.5
times as long as ventral tooth [IP0,23, IIP1] . . GELINAE
50. (37,40,43) Middle tibia with one apical spur . . . TRYPHONINAE
Middle tibia with two apical spurs . . . . .51.
51. (50) Thorax elongate, at least 1.9 times as long as deep. .PIMPLINAE
Thorax not elongate, less than 1.9 times as long as deep . 52.
52. (51) Abdominal tergites 2 and 3 with shallow to deep oblique or
transverse grooves or furrows (or both) [X136]; propodeum
with not more than five enclosed areas . PIMPLINAE
Either or both of these tergites without such grooves or fur¬
rows [X137~113] ; or propodeum with more than 5 enclosed
areas . . 53.
53. (52) Males . 54.
Females . . . 55.
54. (53) Two adjacent segments near the midlength of the flagellum
each with a large dorsal notch . . . PLECTISCINAE
Flagellar segments without notches . 56.
55. (53) Ovipositor exserted beyond subgenital plate more than twice
the length of the petiole and more than the total length of
the abdomen; ovipositor slender, with a small distinct sub¬
terminal dorsal notch, but lacking a subterminal dorso-
ventral swelling; subgenital plate not ending in an elongate
median projection; center of apex of petiolar sternite in
front of middle of petiole. . . . . PLECTISCINAE
Ovipositor exserted beyond subgenital plate either less than
twice the length of the petiole or less than the total length
of the abdomen; or ovipositor without a subterminal dorsal
notch or with a subterminal dorso-ventral swelling; or apex
of subgenital plate ending in an elongate median projection
[X148] ; or center of apex of petiolar sternite at or beyond
middle of petiole . . . . . 56.
56. (55) Opening of scape strongly oblique to the longitudinal axis of
the scape [I8,12], with the longitudinal side of the “apical
triangle” (see footnote 4) more than 0.8 times as long as
its base . 57.
Opening of scape not strongly oblique to the longitudinal axis
of the scape [III88"40], the longitudinal side of the “apical
triangle” being not more than 0.8 times the length of its
base . . . . . 58.
1955] Smith & Shenefelt — Guide to I chneumonidae 177
57. (56) Mesoscutum with transverse ridges or striae; or tarsal claws
each with a bristle with an expanded tip reaching from the
base to the apex of the claw (as these bristles appear to
break off easily, the presence of even one is sufficient to
place the specimen here) ; or hamuli of hindwing more than
8 [VI77] . . . . . PIMPLINAE
Mesoscutum without transverse ridges or striae; tarsal claws
lacking a bristle with an expanded tip; hamuli not more
than 8 [VI®0-82] . TRYPHONINAE
58. (35,36) Outer apical margin of fore tibia with a small to minute
tooth or spine (may be hidden among apical bristles) [V60].
. . . .SCOLOBATINAE + a very small part of TRYPHONINAE
Outer apical margin of fore tibia without a tooth or spine . 59.
59. (58) Petiole so strongly curved that in side view its ventral margin
opposite the spiracles lies above a line drawn from the base
of the sternite to apex of the tergite (diagonally, not along
the suture dividing the sternite from the tergite) [X144] ;
maxillary palpus slightly longer than the depth of the head
. . . . . . . . . .SCOLOBATINAE
Petiole less strongly curved; or maxillary palpus shorter than
the depth of the head . . . . . 60.
60. (59) Face and clypeus separated by a distinct depression or groove
j-jjiT, ao-22 j distance from the bottom of the depression
or groove to a line joining the highest points on the face
and clypeus more than the combined diameters of two con¬
tiguous eye facets. View in profile, against a light if facial
pubescence interferes) ; or propodeum without longitudinal
carinae . . . . . . TRYPHONINAE
Face and clypeus indistinguishably fused [III43], or separated
only by a very shallow depression or groove (if a depres¬
sion or groove is present, the distance from its bottom to a
line joining the highest points on the face and clypeus not
exceeding the combined diameters of two contiguous eye
facets); propodeum with longitudinal carinae . 61.
61. (60) Labrum large, projecting beyond the clypeus more than 0.4
times the basal width of the mandible. ...... .TRYPHONINAE
Labrum small, hidden or projecting beyond the clypeus less
than 0.4 times the basal width of the mandible
......................................... . .SCOLOBATINAE
Code for Table 1 (terms used are followed by roughly corre¬
sponding percentages in brackets) : r — rarely (up to 5, but
more than 0) ; s — sometimes (5-20) ; o = often (20-50) ; m =
majority (50-70) ; u — usually (70-90) ; N = nearly always
(90-99); A = always (99-100). *Dash means “none”. **Dash
means “none” except where category limits overlap, when it
means “other categories lit better”.
178 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
Notes on Subfamilies
PIMPLINAE [I4-7"12, II24>125, IV47, V57-62, VI67-77, X131>136’148] :
Forewing 1.5-32 (usually 4-15) mm. long. The habitus appears
to be of two major kinds. In one type the abdominal tergites have
an irregular contour from grooves and elevations,5 * the thorax is
of average or heavyset build, and the propodeum usually has less
than six enclosed areas. In the other the abdominal tergites are
of even contour, the thorax is usually elongate or subelongate,
and the propodeum often has more than six enclosed areas. In
this subfamily, if a transverse ridge is present on the clypeus,
it tends to be near the base of the clypeus.
TRYPHONINAE [I14, II17>20-22, V61, VI78-82, yip^ X143] : Fore¬
wing 2-16 (usually 3-14) mm. long. The propodeum tends to be
without enclosed areas or to be more or less completely areolated
(the areola and basal area are frequently confluent, however).
If the clypeus has a transverse ridge, the ridge tends to be near
the middle.
GELINAE [I3, II15'19’23, III41, IV51, V5:2’65, VII84-90, X141-152] :
Forewing 0-16 (usually 2.5-10) mm. long. Sexual dimorphism,
especially in structure, often marked. Usually there is a distinct
angle between the major axis of the petiole and that of the rest
of the abdomen. The propodeum is often somewhat blocky or
concave behind (more often in females than in males).
ICHNEUMONINAE [II18-28-29, III46, V66, VII91-96, X139] : Fore¬
wing 2-20 (usually 3.5-13) mm. long. Sexual dimorphism in
color and structure great in a large part of the subfamily. The
major axes of the petiole and of the rest of the abdomen are at
a distinct angle to each other. The propodeum (especially in
females) frequently is concave behind, and usually is more or
less completely areolated. The apex of the abdomen of the female
is very characteristic for nearly the whole subfamily, and is
almost diagnostic in itself. Ventrally the apex (in side view) is
obliquely truncate or subtruncate (the tergites in this portion
being longer than the sternites), with the straight ovipositor
extending to or slightly beyond the apex of the abdomen. The
dorsal and ventral margins of the dorsal valvulae are parallel or
subparallel most of their length.
BANCHINAE [II30, III33 37-42, V55, VIII99-103, X132] : Forewing
2.5-12 (usually 3-10) mm. long. Most species fall into two major
categories. In the first, the abdominal tergites are made irregular
5 Most species with this character belong in the subfamilies Pimplinae and
Banchinae. Nearly all of those species in other subfamilies which have the tergites
irregular may easily be distinguished by other characters.
1955] Smith & Shenefelt — Guide to I chneumonidae
179
in contour by grooves,5 the petiole usually has lateral carinae
extending from the spiracles to the apex, and the propodeum has
a very variable number of carinae (the apical transverse carina
is nearly always present) . In the second, the abdominal tergites
lack such grooves, the petiole rarely has lateral carinae reaching
from the spiracles to the apex, and the propodeum has no carinae
or vague carinae or one strong transverse carina (and sometimes
some longitudinal carinae behind it) .
SCOLOBATINAE [I5-6, III3&>4043«45, V60’64, VIII104-112,
Xi44.i45.i49] . Forewing 2-21 (usually 4-12) mm. long. The second
intercubitus, when present, tends to be interstitial or subinter¬
stitial with the second recurrent.
ORTHOPELMATINAE [III35, V54, VIII113, X140] : Forewing
1.5-4 (usually 2-3.5) mm. long. Petiole rather slender, and little
wider at the apex than at the spiracles. Abdomen in dorsal view
long-ovate to rectangular-oval.
PLECTISCINAE [III32 34, IV49, V59, VII97-98] : Forewing 1.5-
8.5 (usually 1.5-3. 5) mm. long. Most species have long slender
legs and long wings. The head does not usually cap the thorax
closely.
ORTHOCENTRINAE [III36, IX115116, X142]: Forewing 1-5
(usually 1.5-3. 5) mm. long. The shape of the head and the vena¬
tion of the forewing are both very characteristic (see illustra¬
tions) . The legs are usually rather stout. The whole body may be
greatly compressed.
DIPLAZONINAE [III38, IX117-118, X135] : Forewing 2-7 (usu¬
ally 3-5.5) mm. long. Over-all appearance very characteristic.
Generally rather compact, with the head fitting rather closely
to the thorax.
METOPIINAE [III31, IV48, V56, IX119129, X138] : Forewing 2.5-
12 (usually 3.5-10) mm. long. Legs usually rather stout. Face
usually strongly convex, bulged, or raised somewhat like a shield.
OPHIONINAE [I1-2’13, II16’26’27, IV59, V53’58-63, IX121"130,
X134)137)154J155] . Forewing 1.5-26 (usually 2.5-16) mm. long.
Mesosternum in a large part of the subfamily with a complete
pre-midcoxal transverse carina (this carina is rarely complete in
the other subfamilies) . Apex of propodeum frequently produced
distinctly behind the hind coxal cavities (rarely more than
slightly produced in the other subfamilies). Abdomen often con¬
spicuously compressed.
MESOCHORINAE [III44, VIII114, X133-147] : Forewing 1.5-10
(usually 2-5) mm. Over-all appearance very characteristic. The
veins enclosing the areolet are usually of equal or subequal
length, giving it a rhombic or subrhombic appearance.
180 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
Key to Tribes of Pimplinae* * 3 4 5 6 7 * *
(Brachycyrtini Not Known to be Present)
1. Mesoscutum with strong transverse ridges or striae over most
or all of its surface; mandibles bidentate [II25] . . . 2.
Mesoscutum without transverse ridges or striae; or mandibles
unidentate [Is9] . 3.
2. (1) Propodeum without areas enclosed by carinae . RHYSSINI
Propodeum with areas enclosed by carinae . PIMPLINI
3. (1) A strong bristle with an expanded or broadly spatulate tip
reaching from the base to the apex of each claw (as these
bristles are apparently easily broken off, the presence of
even one is sufficient to place specimen here) ; areolet
present [VI80] . . . THERONIINI
Tarsal claws without a basal bristle having an expanded or
spatulate tip; or areolet absent. . . . 4.
4. (3) Eye distinctly emarginate on inner margin subopposite the
antennal sockets [I10] mesoscutum more than 1.33 times as
long as wide; areolet present, large, with the intercubiti
separated anteriorly by more than twice the width of the
first intercubitus [VI60] . . . LABENINI
Eye with at most a broad, shallow, concave curve on inner
margin ; or mesoscutum less than 1.33 times as long as
wide; or areolet absent [VI70], or present and with the inter¬
cubiti meeting or separated anteriorly by not more than
twice the width of the first intercubitus [VI74] . . . 5.
5. (4) Thorax at least twice as long as deep [IV47]; or center of
apex of petiolar sternite within apical third of petiole . 6.
Thorax less than twice as long as deep [IV48-61] ; center of
apex of petiolar sternite at or in front of apical third of
petiole . . . . 7.
6. (5) Opening of scape strongly oblique to the longitudinal axis of
the scape [I8,12], with the longitudinal side of the “apical
triangle” (see footnote 4) more than 0.8 times as long as
its base; or the span of the occipital carina in dorsal view
less than 0.67 times the greatest width of the head
. POEMENIINI
Opening of scape not strongly oblique to the longitudinal axis
of the scape [I°], the longitudinal side of the “apical tri¬
angle” not being more than 0.8 times the length of its base;
span of occipital carina in dorsal view more than 0.67 times
the greatest width of the head . XORIDINI
7. (5) Propodeum with at least six areas enclosed by carinae ; hamuli
of hindwing more than 8 [VI77] . . . ACAENITINI
Propodeum with not more than five areas enclosed by carinae ;
or hamuli not more than 8 [VI68,69] .
8.
1955] Smith & Skenefelt— Guide to Ichneumonidae
181
8. (7) Distance between the eyes at the level of the anterior margin
of the antennal sockets equal to or greater than the shortest
distance between the eyes dorsally [I12] ; mesopleural suture
opposite mesopleural pit straight or very broadly and shal¬
lowly curved or with a localized bend toward the pit
[IV47-51] ...................................... . EPHIALTIMI
Distance between the eyes at the level of the anterior margin
of the antennal sockets equal to or less than the shortest
distance between the eyes dorsally [I7] ; mesopleural suture
with a localized bend toward the pit [IV48] ................. 9.
9. (8) Females .................................................. 10.
Males .................................................... 11.
10. (9) Ovipositor deeper (at least in part) within the central half
than in the apical quarter [X136] .......... .POLYSPHINCTINI
Ovipositor not deeper within central half than within apical
quarter [X1'50] . . .PIMPLINI
11. (9) Eyes hairy (may be inconspicuously so) ..... . POLY SPHIN CT'INI
Eyes not hairy ............................................ 12.
12. (11) Areolet present, closed at least by a bulla [VI67]; or flagellum
with three consecutive segments near its middle modified
on the outer side to form two conspicuous notches [I4]
................................................ .PIMPLINI
Areolet absent [VI70] ; flagellum without such notches
....... . POLYSPHINCTINI + a very small part of PIMPLINI
Motes on the Tribes of Pimplimae
PIMPLINI [I4-7, V57’6'2, VI67’68] ; POLYSPHINCTINI [Iu,
VI69-7'0]; EPHIALTIMI [I12, VI7\ X146]; POEMENIINI [P,
VI72]; RHYSSINI [IP5, VI78]; THERONIINI [IP4, VI74];
LABRMIMI [I10, VI75, X131] ; XORIDINI [P, IV47, VI76];
ACAENITINI [VI77, X148].
In dorsal view, head subquadrate and genae subequal in length
with eye in Xoridini and part of Poemeniini ; rarely both in the
other tribes. Opening of scape slightly to moderately strongly
oblique to the longitudinal axis of the scape in Xoridini, a large
part of Polysphinctini, and a very small part of Pimp] ini ;
strongly to very strongly oblique otherwise.
Thorax elongate in Xoridini, Labenini, and most Poemeniini;
subelongate in Acaenitini, Rhyssini, and the rest of Poemeniini ;
rather heavyset in Ephialtini (especially in females) ; approach¬
ing subelongate in some of Polysphinctini ; and of other confor¬
mation in the remainder. Coxae elongate in Labenini, part of
Xoridini and Rhyssini and Poemeniini, and a small part of
Acaenitini and Polysphinctini. Tarsi, especially apically, and
182 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
more so in females than in males, somewhat stouter in nearly all
of Polysphinctini than usual for the subfamily. Tarsal claws
each with a basal tooth (usually large) [V62] in females of Poly¬
sphinctini, most Pimplini, and part of Ephialtini; with a tooth
(not necessarily basal) in both sexes of part of Acaenitini.
Propodeum with at most five areas enclosed by carinae in
Ephialtini and Rhyssini, nearly all of Pimplini, Polysphinctini
and Poemeniini, and a small part of Theroniini, and possibly
rarely in the other tribes also; otherwise with more than five
areas enclosed by carinae.
Petiole little wider than deep in Poemeniini, Labenini and
Xoridini; considerably wider than deep in the other tribes.
Petiole with at most a trace of a pit or groove laterally basad
of the spiracle in Poemeniini, Labenini, nearly all Xoridini, part
of Acaenitini, and rarely in the other tribes ; remainder with a
pit and/or groove present. Petiole with at most a trace of a basal
concavity above in Poemeniini, Labenini, Xoridini, part of
Acaenitini, and rarely in the other tribes; a large one in most
Pimplini, Ephialtini and Theroniini ; and a small to large one in
the rest. Abdominal tergites 2 and 3 (or more) irregular in con¬
tour (often less distinctly so in males) in Pimplini, Polysphinc¬
tini, and most Theroniini ; more vaguely irregular in Ephialtini
and some of Poemeniini; and even in contour (may be striate)
otherwise. Second abdominal sternite of female with a distinct
longitudinal median groove or carina (the latter in some dried
specimens at least) and a pair of tubercles projecting from the
sides of the groove somewhere along its length in Rhyssini. Sub¬
genital plate of female very strongly produced in Acaenitini.
Ovipositor usually less than half the length of the abdomen and
inconspicuous in Polysphinctini ; longer and often very conspicu¬
ous in the rest; moderately long and rather stout in Ephialtini.
Key to Tribes of Tryphoninae
(Stilbopini, Phrudini, and Boethini Not Known to be Present)
1. Mid-tibia with one apical spur . . . CTENISCINI
Mid-tibia with two apical spurs . . . 2.
2. (1) Hind tibial spurs large, the longer more than six times the
length of the apical or subapical setae (which may form a
distinct fringe) on the inner side of the hind tibia; propodeum
without longitudinal carinae . . . PHYTODIETINI
Hind tibial spurs smaller, the longer not more than six times
the length of the apical or subapical setae (which may form
a distinct fringe) on the inner side of the hind tibia [Vs®] ;
or propodeum with longitudinal carinae . .
3.
1955] Smith & Shenefelt — Guide to Ichneumonidae
183
3. (2) Lab rum large, projecting beyond the clypeus more than 0.4
times the basal width of the mandible, and exposed even when
the mandibles are closed [IP] . . ADELQGNATHINI
Labrum hidden or projecting beyond the clypeus less than 0.4
times the basal width of the mandible, and not exposed when
the mandibles are closed [II20,21] . . . 4.
4. (3) Areolet absent [VI80]; prespiracular portion of petiole at least
1.6 times as long as its narrowest width. . . ECLYTINI
Areolet present [VI82] ; or prespiracular portion of petiole less
than 1.6 times as long as its narrowest width . 5.
5. (4) Distance between most lateral points of mandibular cavities in
cranium more than 1.2 times the distance between the eyes at
the level of the anterior margin of the antennal sockets [II17] ;
longer hind tibial spur not more than three times the length
of the anical or subapical setae on the inner side of the hind
tibia [V59] . . . GRYPOCENTRINI
Distance between most lateral points of mandibular cavities in
cranium less than 1.2 times the distance between the eyes at
the level of the anterior margin of the antennal sockets; or
longer hind tibial spur more than three times the length of
the apical or subapical setae on the inner side of the hind
tibia . . . . . .TRYPHONINI
Notes on the Tribes of Tryphoninae
ADELQGNATHINI [H22, VI78] ; PHYTODIETINI [I14, VI79] ;
ECLYTINI TIP1, VI80] ; GRYPOCENTRINI [II17, VI81] ;
TRYPHONINI [VI82] ; CTENISCINI [II29, V61, VII83, X143].
Ocelli large, their diameters greater than the post-ocellar line
and more than twice as great as the ocell-ocular, in a large part
of Phytodietini and some Eclytini. Occipital carina complete and
joining base of mandible adjacent to or separately from the
hypostomal carina in Grypocentrini and some Adelognathini ;
joining hypostomal carina barely posterior to the base of the
mandible in some Eclytini; otherwise incomplete or joining
hypostomal carina distinctly posterior to the base of the man¬
dible.
Tarsal claws conspicuously pectinate in Phytodietini [V58’63],
and part of Tryphonini and Cteniscini; moderately pectinate in
part of the latter two tribes; and slightly [V64] or not [V57]
pectinate in the rest.
Spiracles within the apical half of the petiole in Adelognathini,
part of Eclytini, and rarely in the remainder ; at or in front of
the midlength of the petiole otherwise. Ovipositor straight or
nearly so in Adelognathini, Phytodietini, Eclytini, and part of
Grypocentrini, Tryphonini, and Cteniscini; upcurved in part of
Grypocentrini and Tryphonini; and downcurved in part of
184 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
Tryphonini and Cteniscini. Ovipositor often not exserted in
Cteniscini. Ovipositor may carry one egg in part of Cteniscini,
Grypocentrini and Tryphonini, and very rarely in part of
Eclytini ; several eggs in part of Tryphonini.
Key to Tribes of Gelinae
(Sphecophagini Not Known to be Present)
1. Apterous [V52] . .....GELINI
Wings present (may be greatly reduced in size) . 2.
2. (1) Forewing not more than 1.1 times the length of the thorax
(venation may be abnormal [V65] ) . 3.
Forewing longer than 1.1 times the length of the thorax . 5.
3. (2) Basal transverse propodeal carina absent. ............ . APTESINI
Basal transverse propodeal carina present at least laterally
posterior to the spiracles . . . . . . . 4.
4. (3) Longitudinal propodeal carinae present . . . . .GELINI
Longitudinal propodeal carinae absent . .MESOSTENINI
5. (2) Second recurrent vein with two bullae ; face of male without
white or yellow markings (may be ferruginous) . .GELINI
Second recurrent with one bulla; face of male with or without
white or yellow markings . 6.
6. (5) Junction of discoideus with subdiscoideus farther from the
posterior than from the anterior end of the second recurrent
[VII84,85] ; face of male without white or yellow markings
. GELINI
Junction of discoideus with subdiscoideus not farther from the
posterior than from the anterior end of the second recurrent
vein [VII86-90] ; face of male with or without white or yellow
markings . . . . 7.
7. (6) Propodeum with longitudinal carinae . . . . 8.
Propodeum without longitudinal carinae . . . 10.
8. (7) Second abdominal tergite longitudinally strongly striate or
aciculate, or distinctly and fairly uniformly punctate ; second
segment of maxillary palpus more than 1.2 times as long as
its greatest dimension at right angles to its longitudinal
axis, and with its sides nearly straight to moderately
strongly convex, any expansion not being angular in outline
. . . GELINI
Second abdominal tergite smooth, granular, or sculptured dif¬
ferently from that described above; or, if punctate, second
segment of maxillary palpus less than 1.2 times as long as
its greatest dimension at right angles to its longitudinal
axis, and with one side angularly expanded .
9.
1955] Smith & Shenef elt— Guide to I chneumonidae 185
9. (8) (Distinguishing characters not clearly defined; if in doubt, try
both the following tribes.)
Males only: longitudinal carinae of propodeum confined to
faint traces between the basal and apical transverse carinae;
areolet present or absent . . . MESOSTENINI
Males and females: longitudinal carinae more extensive or
stronger or both; areolet present. . . . APTESINI
10. (7) (Distinguishing characters not clearly defined; if in doubt, try
both the following tribes.)
Females only: basal transverse propodeal carina weak or
absent; apical transverse propodeal carina strong; areolet
present . . . . . . APTESINI
Males and females: basal transverse propodeal carina strong
or moderately strong; apical transverse propodeal carina
variable, may be strong to partly absent medially; areolet
present or absent ........................... .MESOSTENINI
Notes on the Tribes of Gelinae
GELINI [I3, IF5*19, IV51, V52, VIP4-86, X141152] ; APTESINI
[III41, V65, VII87] ; MESOSTENINI [II23, VII88-90].
Second recurrent as in the first part of couplets 5 and 6 in the
key above in nearly all Gelini, and as in the second part of these
couplets in some Gelini and in the other tribes. Propodeal areo-
lation complete or with several enclosed areas in most Gelini and
Aptesini, and rarely in Mesostenini.
For additional notes on the tribes Aptesini and Mesostenini
(which intergrade somewhat), see Pratt’s work indicated in the
references in the introduction.
Key to Tribes of Ichneumoninae
(Ischnojoppini, Acanthojoppini, and Eurylabini Not Known to be Present)
1. Basal half of petiole flat above, and wider than deep
. PRISTICERATINI
Basal half of petiole either not flat above or not wider than deep . . 2.
2. (1) Propodeal spiracle circular or not more than 1.5 times as long
as wide . . . 3.
Propodeal spiracle with its longest diameter more than 1.5 times
its shortest diameter . . . . . 4.
3. (2) Propodeum with a distinct projection in the region of the apex
of each second lateral area
Propodeum without distinct projections
PRISTICERATINI
....... ALOMYINI
186 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [VoL 44
4. (2) Propodeum at the region of the areola or base of the areola
greatly elevated, with the upper surface of the elevation pol¬
ished (may also be somewhat punctate) ; areolet may be petio-
late or subpetiolate anteriorly [VII86] . . . TROGINI
Propodeum at the region of the areola or base of the areola not
elevated or not polished; areolet sessile anteriorly [VII94] ..... 5.
5. (4) Mandible not more than 2.5 times as long as broad across base
of its teeth [II29] ; malar space (shortest distance between eye
and base of mandible) more than 0.8 times the length of the
mandible [II29] . . . . . . . . LISTRODROMINI
Mandible more than 2.5 times as long as broad across base of
its teeth [II28] ; or malar space less than 0.8 times the length
of the mandible [II28] ....... . AMRLYTELINI, ICHNEUMONINI
Notes on the Tribes of Ichneumoninae
ALOMYINI [II18, VIP1] ; PRISTICERATINI [VII92] ; LISTRO¬
DROMINI [IP9, VII93] ; AMRLYTELINI [II29, V66, VIP4, X139] ;
ICHNEUMONINI [VIP5] ; TROGINI [IIP6, VIP6].
Except for distinguishing the very close tribes Amblytelini
and Ichneumonini from each other, the tribes are fairly easy to
separate using the characters in the key and over-all appear¬
ance. Because of the few specimens in some of these tribes
present in the collection of the Department of Entomology, and
the extremely complex and variable nature of a large part of
the subfamily, however, further notes at this point would be
applicable to only a few species and would be of little help.
Key to Tribes of Banchinae
(Neorhacodini Not Known to be Present)
1. Abdominal tergites 2 and 3 (or more) each with two or more
deep grooves; areolet absent [VHP9100] . . 2.
Abdominal tergites without such grooves; or areolet present
[VIII101-103] . . . . . . . 3.
2. (1) Abdominal tergites 2 and 3 each with only two deep grooves,
these diverging posteriorly from near the central portion of
the anterior margin of the tergite (traces of transverse
grooves may be present) ............................ GLYPTINI
Abdominal tergites 2 and 3 each with at least four deep grooves,
two oblique and two transverse or approximately transverse
. . . .LYCORINI
3. (1) Diseoidella joining nervellus within its anterior fourth (meas¬
ured along nervellus) [VIII103] ..................... .BANCHINI
Diseoidella joining nervellus within its posterior three-fourths
[VHP01’102] . . . . LISSONOTINX
1955] Smith & Shenefelt — Guide to Ichneumonidae
187
Notes on the Tribes of Banchinae
GLYPTINI [IIP3, VHP9] ; LYCORINI [IIP2, VIII100] ; LISSO-
NOTINI [IIP7, V55, VIII101 102, X132] ; BANCHINI [II30, VIII103].
Opening of scape slightly to moderately strongly oblique to
the longitudinal axis of the scape in Glyptini, Lycorini, and most
of Banchini ; strongly to very strongly oblique in Lissonotini and
the rest of Banchini. Occipital carina complete and joining hypo-
stomal carina at the base of the mandible in nearly all of Glyp¬
tini and a small part of Lissonotini and Banchini; not joining
hypostomal carina or joining it posterior to the base of the
mandible in the rest.
Propodeal carinae absent or present only as short traces in
Lycorini, and part of Banchini; with the apical transverse
carina present (some other less conspicuous carinae may be
behind it; any other carinae appear only as short traces) in
Lissonotini, and part of Glyptini and Banchini; and with addi¬
tional or other carinae in the rest of Glyptini and Banchini. Pro¬
podeal spiracle with its maximum diameter not more than 1.5
times its minimum diameter in Glyptini, Lycorini, a large part
of Lissonotini, and a small part of Banchini ; more than 1.5 times
its shortest diameter in the rest of Lissonotini and Banchini.
Ovipositor more than half the length of the abdomen in Glyp¬
tini, Lycorini, and nearly all of Lissonotini; less than half the
length of the abdomen in Banchini and the rest of Lissonotini.
Key to Tribes of Scolobatinae
(Scolobatini Not Known to be Present)
1. Some or all of the segments within the central half of the
flagellum distinctly compressed, at least 1.5 times as deep
as wide [I56] . EUCERATINI
Flagellar segments all less than 1.5 times as deep as wide
[I84] . 2.
2. (1) Petiole long, with pre- and post-spiracular portions each more
than twice as long as width of petiole at the spiracles;
petiole strongly curved, so that in side view its ventral mar¬
gin opposite the spiracles lies above a line drawn from the
base of the sternite to the apex of the tergite (diagonally,
not along the suture dividing the sternite from the tergite)
[X144] ; maxillary palpus slightly longer than the depth of
the head . . CALLIDIOTINI
Petiole relatively shorter in front of or behind the spiracles
or in both places; or the petiole less strongly curved in side
view; or the maxillary palpus shorter than the depth of the
head . . . . . . . . .
3.
188 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
(2) Maximum depth of eye more than 12 times the malar space
(shortest distance between the eye and the base of the
mandible) [III40]; inner dorsal longitudinal margin of hind
wing cavity in metanotum (do not use the ventral margin
next to the membrane of the wing) carinate [IV61], with the
anterior portion of this carina produced dorsally so that its
depth is at least 0.6 times the length of the carina (make
measurements from the mesad side) and at least 0.25 of its
depth projects above the transverse carina anterior to it
. CTENOPELMATINI
Maximum depth of eye not more than 10 times that of the
malar space [III46] ; or the inner dorsal margin of the hind
wing cavity not carinate or with a carina that is not as
deep anteriorly (the greatest depth in the anterior part
either less than 0.6 times the length of the carina or less
than 0.25 of its depth projects above the transverse carina
in front of it) . . . . . . . . . 4.
(3) Hind femur not more than 4.5 times as long as its greatest
transverse dimension; propodeum with both longitudinal
and transverse carinae in addition to those outlining the
petiolar area . . 5.
Hind femur more than 4.5 times as long as its greatest trans¬
verse dimension; or propodeum without both longitudinal
and transverse carinae, excluding carinae that may outline
the petiolar area . 10.
(4) Petiole in dorsal view more than 4.5 times as long as the nar¬
rowest width of the postpetiole; petiole without a pit or
groove laterally basad of the spiracle [X145] ; central third
or more of the apical margin of clypeus concave . PIONINI
Petiole in dorsal view less than 4.5 times as long as the nar¬
rowest width of the postpetiole; or petiole with a pit or
groove laterally basad of the spiracle [X168143] ; or apical
margin of clypeus truncate or convex . . . . . . 6.
(5) Apical margin of clypeus convex [III40 46] . . . . 7.
Apical margin of clypeus truncate or concave in central third
or more [III30] . . . . . . 10.
(6) Eyes more than 1.1 times as far apart dorsally as ventrally;
or females with ovipositor strongly upcurved . PIONINI
Eyes not more than 1.1 times as far apart dorsally as ven¬
trally; females with ovipositor straight or nearly so . 8.
(7) Petiole in dorsal view not more than twice as long as wide;
mandibular teeth approximately equal in size and shape
. . . .PIONINI -f- perhaps a very small part of EURYPROCTINI
Petiole in dorsal view more than twice as long as wide; or
dorsal mandibular tooth narrower at base than ventral
tooth, and not more than 0.75 times as long as ventral
tooth . . . . . . . 9.
(8) Petiole with a pit or groove laterally basad of the spiracle
. MESOLEIINI + a small part of PIONINI
Petiole without a pit or groove laterally basad of the spiracle
(carinae may border edges of petiole) ....... .EURYPROCTINI
1955] Smith & Shenefelt — Guide to Ichneumonidae
189
10. (4,6) Petiole with a pit or groove laterally basad of the spiracle
. . . . . . . MESOLEIINI
Petiole without a pit or groove laterally basad of spiracle
(carinae may border edges of petiole) ....... . EURYPROCTINI
Notes on the Tribes of Scolobatinae
EUCERATINI [I5 6, VIII104] ; PIONINI [III43, VIII105’106] ;
CTENOPELMATINI [III40, V64, VIII107]; MESOLEIINI
[11139,45, VHI108,109> X149]; EURYPROCTINI [V60, VIII110111,
X145]; CALLIDIOTINI [VIII102, X144].
The tribes Euceratini, Mesoleiini, Euryproctini and Callidio-
tini are nearly always easy to separate from each other, and the
characters in the key may largely or entirely separate the tribe
Ctenopelmatini from the other tribes. The tribe Pionini re-
sembles both the tribes Mesoleiini and Euryproctini; a few
Mesoleiine females with the ovipositor upcurved, which are not
yet represented in the University of Wisconsin entomology col¬
lection, may go into the tribe Pionini in the key.
Key to Tribes of Ophioninae
1. Abdomen beyond petiole almost entirely smooth and highly
polished; lateral carina or fold on the second tergite incom¬
plete, with the parts of the tergite above and below the fold
thin and of the same consistency; lateral margin of second
tergite not bent under sharply to form a carinate fold [X141]
. . . . . . TERSILOCHINI
Abdomen beyond petiole largely sculptured; or the second ter¬
gite with a complete lateral fold or carina (the tergite may or
may not be bent under sharply) which divides the tergite into
parts of unlike thickness or consistency [X131-140,142,143] . . 2.
2. (1) Mid-tibia with two apical spurs; discoidella present; one inter-
cubitus present, joining the cubitus more than half the length
of the intercubitus beyond the junction of the second recurrent
with the cubitus [IX130] . . . . . OPHIONINI
Mid- tibia with one apical spur; or discoidella absent; or two
intercubiti present; or one intercubitus present which joins
the cubitus less than half the length of the intercubitus be¬
yond the junction of the second recurrent with the cubitus
[IX123135] . . . 3.
3. (2) Whole propodeum (metapleura may be Included also) with
numerous (over 30) irregular areas set off by strong irregular
ridges [IV60], the majority of which exceed in height 1.5 times
the diameter of an eye facet (small rugosities may be present
within these areas) ; profile of metapleura from dorsal view
distinctly convex, not continuous with the lines formed by the
sides of the mesothorax . . . . . . ANOMALINI
190 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
Propodeum with about 13 (or fewer) areas set off by the usual
propodeal carinae [IV51] (the areas may contain rugosities of
much shorter dimensions than the regular carinae, or certain
localized parts, as the petiolar area, may contain rugosities
subequal in height with the regular carinae), or, if covered
with a network of small areas and ridges, the height of a
great majority are not more than 1.0 times the diameter of
an eye facet; profile of metapleura from dorsal view straight
or nearly straight, and continuous or nearly continuous with
the lines formed by the sides of the mesothorax. . . 4.
4. (3) Junction of mediella with nervellus more than 0.95 times as far
from the junction of the subcostella and radiella as from the
junction of the intercubitella and radiella (measure d'stances
between the veins) [IX12imi] . CREMASTINI
Junction of mediella with nervellus not more than 0.95 times as
far from the junction of the subcostella and radiella as from
the junction of the intercubitella and radiella [IX121-123]
. . . . . . PORIZONINI
Notes on the Tribes of Ophioninae
PORIZONINI [II26, IX117’124-128, X137’155] ; CREMASTINI [I13,
1X121, X154]; TERSILOCHINI [II27, IX129]; ANOMALINI
[Hie, jyw IXu8,i22fiM x13*] ; OPHIONINI [I1’2, V53-38.63, IX130].
Face and clypeus distinctly or fairly distinctly separated in
Cremastini and Tersilochini, part of Anomalini and Ophionini,
and a small part of Porizonini ; vaguely separated in most of the
rest; not separated in part of Porizonini and Anomalini, and a
small part of Ophionini. In dorsal view, span of occipital carina
more than 0.7 times the greatest width of the head in nearly all
Anomalini, part of Ophionini, and a very small part of Porizo¬
nini. Head black in Porizonini, part of Tersilochini, and rarely
in the other tribes; otherwise in part or entirety other colors,
as ferruginous, yellow, etc.
Tarsal claws conspicuously pectinate in Ophionini [V58-63] ;
distinctly but much less conspicuously pectinate in part of
Porizonini and Cremastini, and a small part of Anomalini;
slightly [V64] or not [V57] pectinate in the rest. Areolet present
in most of Porizonini and a small part of Cremastini ; otherwise
absent. Hind wing as in the first part of couplet 4 in Cremastini
and Tersilochini ; as in the second part of the same couplet in the
other tribes, but a very small part of Porizonini and Anomalini
near the borderline. Maximum diameter of propodeal spiracle
not more than 1.5 times its minimum diameter in all or most of
Tersilochini, most of Cremastini, a large part of Porizonini, and
a small part of Anomalini ; in the rest more than 1.5 times its
minimum diameter. Propodeum of part of Ophionini as well as
1955] Smith & Shenef elt— Guide to I chneumonidae
191
all of Anomalini as in the first part of couplet 3 ; as in the second
part of the same couplet, or without carinae or smooth, in the
remainder.
Third abdominal segment at least twice as deep as wide in
Anomalini, nearly all Ophionini and Cremastini, and part of
Tersilochini and Porizonini; otherwise less compressed, but in
these the depth usually subequal to or greater than the width.
Ovipositor much less than the length of the abdomen in
Ophionini, Anomalini, and part of Porizonini ; about as long as
or longer than the abdomen in Tersilochini, Cremastini, and
the rest of Porizonini.
Tribes and Genera Known
List of Subfamilies,
PIMPLINAE
PlMPLINI
Scambus
Calliephialtes
Pimpla
Iseropus
Tromatobia
Zaglyptus
Delomerista
Peritiious
POLYSPHINCTINI
Laufeia
Schizopyga
Polysphincta
Hymenoepimecis
Oxyrrhexis
Zatypota
Ephialtini
Coceygomimus
Ephialtes
Itoplectis
POEMENIINI
Diaeritus
Poemenia
Neoxorides
Rhyssini
Rhyssa
Megarhyssa
Rhyssella
Theroniini
Theronia
Labenini
Labena
Grotea
Xoridini
Xorides
Odontocolon
Aplomerus
TRYPHONINAE
Adelognathini
Pammicra
Adelognathus
Phytodietini
Phytodietus
Netelia
Eclytini
Eclytus
Neliopisthus
Hybophanes
Gryfocentrini
Xdiogramma
Tryphonini
Polyblastus
Ctenochira
Monoblastns
Tryphon
Cteniscini
Acrotomus
Eudiaborus
Exenterus
Smicroplectrus
Exyston
GELINAE
Gelini
Rathythrix
Mastrus
Otacustes
Ethelurgus
Stiboscopus
Isdromas
Phobetes
Haplaspis
Gelis
Myersia
to Occur in Wisconsin
Hemiteles
Endasys
Eriplanus
Phygadeuon
Sfcilpnus
Atractodes
Mesoleptus
Aptesini
Cubocephalus
Aptesis
Megaplectes
Schenkia
Giraudia
Polytribax
Rhembobius
Mesostenini
Christolia
Trachysphyrus
Pycnocryptus
Mesostenus
Polycyrtus
Trychosis
Idlolispa
Gambrus
Hoplocryptus
Agrothereutes
Ischnus
Chromocryptus
Lymeon
Echthrus
Helcostizus
Ac r or! onus
Messatoporus
ICHNEUMONINAE
Alomyini
Phaeogenes
Diadromus
192 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
Rhexidermus
Colpognathus
Dicaelotus
Pristiceratini
Platylabus
Ectopius
Listrodromini
Neotypus
Amblytelini
Hoplismemis
Melanichneumon
Cratichneumon
Aoplus
Ectopimorpha
Chasmias
Pseudamblyteles
Amblyteles
Pterocormus
ICHNEUMONINI
Ichneumon
Protichneumon
Trogini
Catadelphus
Conocalama
Trogus
BANCHINAE
Glyptini
Glypta
Lycorini
Toxophoroides
Lissonotini
Amersibia
Arenetra
Lampronota
Lissonota
Pimplopterus
Syzeuctus
Diradops
Banchini
Exetastes
Ceratogastra
Banchus
SCOLOBATINAE
Euceratini
Euceros
PlONINI
Rhorus
Pion
Ctenopelmatini
Ctenopelma
Xenoschesis
Homaspis
Mesoleiini
Opheltes
Perilissus
Absyrtus
Oetophorus
Labrossyta
Lathrolestes
Mesoleius
Lamachus
Exjryproctini
Dialges
Mesoleptidea
Hypamblys
Ipoctoninus
Anisotacrus
Hadrodactylus
Callidiotini
Callidiotes
ORTHOPELMA-
TINAE
Orthopelma
PLECTISCINAE
Cylloceria
Dallatorrea
Eusterinx
Megastylus
Proclitus
Plectiscidea
Aperileptus
ORTHOCENTRINAE
Orthocentrus
Neurateles
Mnesidacus
Stenomacrus
DIPLAZONIMAE
Diplazon
Zootrephus
Promethes
Syrphoctonus
Enizemum
METOPIINAE
Metopius
Pseudometopius
Chorinaeus
Periope
Colpotrochia
Triclistus
Hypsicera
Exochus
OPHIGNINAE
PORIZONINI
Cymodusa
Campoplex
Ideehthis
Casinaria
Campoletis
Bathyplectes
Dusona
Nepiera
Phobocampe
Horogenes
Hyposoter
Olesicampe
Cremastini
Dimophora
Pristomerus
Zaleptopygus
Cremastus
Tersilochini
Tersilochus
Anomalini
Aphanistes
Barylypa
Gravenhorstia
Labrorychus
Atrometus
Therion
Heteropelma
Ophionini
Thyreodon
Ophion
Enicospilus
MESOCHORINAE
Astiphromma
Mesochorus
1955] Smith & Shenefelt — Guide to Ichneumonidae
193
194
Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
TABLE I (CO NT.)
1955] Smith & Shene felt— Guide to I chneumonidae 195
196 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
1955] Smith & Shenefelt — Guide to I chneumonidae
197
198 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
1955] Smith & Shenefelt — Guide to I chneumonidae
199
200 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
PLATE I
Heads and Head Appendages
Fig. 1. OPHIONINAE, OPHIONINI, Qphion bilineatus 9 .
Fig. 2. OPHIONINAE, OPHIONINI, Enieospilua sp. 2 . Head from
beneath •
Fig. 3. GELINAE, GELINI, Endasys sp. <2 • Several segments near
middle of left flagellum from outer side and slightly
above and in front. Fig. 3B diagrammatic cross*
section of a segment in fig. 3A.
Fig. h. PIMPLINAE, PIMPLINI, Zaglyptus incompletus o’ . Same as
fig. 3, without diagrammatic cross-section of a
segment.
Fig. 12B left scape of fig. 12 A, showing M apical
triangle".
Fig. 13. OPHIONINAE, CREMASTINI, Zaleptopygus sp. c f
Fig. Hi. TRYPHONINAE, PHYTODIETINI, Netelia sp. 2 .
1955]
Smith & Shenefelt — -Guide to Ichneumonidae
201
FIG 6
Euc«ro»
EUCERAfiNI
202 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
PLATE II
Heads
1955] Smith & Shenefelt — Guide to Ichneumonidae
203
204 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
PLATE ill
Heads
1955]
Smith & Shenefelt— Guide to I ehneumonidae
205
PLECTISCINAE
206 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
PLATE IV
Thoraces
Fig* 1*7* PIMPLINAE, XORIDINI, Xoridea huroeralis $ «
Fig* 1*8* METOPIINAE , Hypaicera femoralis ?.
Fig. 1*9. PLECT3SCIMAE, Aperileptus sp. ? .
Fig. 50. OPHIONINAE, ANOMALINI, Therion morio $ .
Fig* 51* GELINAE , GELINI, Bathythrix peregrina 9 .
1955]
Smith & Shene felt— Guide to I chneumonidae
207
208 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
Fig* 52.
Fig. 53.
Fig. 5U.
Fig. 55#
Fig. 56.
Fig. 57.
Fig. 58.
Fig. 59.
Fig. 60.
Fig. 61.
Fig. 62.
Fig. 63.
Fig. 6U.
Fig. 65.
Fig. 66.
PLATE 7
Thoraces and Thoracic Parts
GELXNAE, GELINI, Gelis sp. 9 .
OPHIONINAE, OPHIONINI, Enicospilua sp. £ • Thorax from
beneath, to the left and behind.
ORTHOPELMAT INAE , Orthopelraa mediator e? # Mesopleurum from
side view.
BANCHINAE, LBS0NDT3NI, Pimplopterus sp. cf # Propodeum from
the side, above and slightly behind.
METOPIINAE, Hypsicera femoralls 9 • Left hind leg from
outer side.
PIMPLINAE, PIMPLINI, Pimpla irritator cT . Outer left hind
tarsal claw from outer side.
OPHIONINAE, OPHIONINI, Ophion bilineatus cT . Same as Fig.
57.
PLECTI5CINAE, Plectiscidea sp. <? . Apex of left hind tibia
from inner, slightly to the front and end view.
SOOLOBATINAE, EURIPROCTINI, Ipoctoninus unifornds 9 • Apex
of left fore tibia from inner side.
TRIPHONINAE, CTENISCINI, S ndcroplectrus sp. 9 . Apex of
left hind tibia from outer front view.
PIMPLINAE, PIMPLINI, Pimpla irritator 9 . Outer left hind
tarsal claw from outer side.
OPHIONINAE, OPHIONINI, Ophion bilineatus 9 „ Same as Fig. 62.
SCOLOBATINAE, CTENOPELMATINI, Homaspis sp. 9 . Same as
Fig. 62.
GEL INAE, APTESINI, Aptesis sp. 9 . Right wings.
ICHNEUMONINAE, AMBLYTELINI, Aoplus cincticorais d* . Right wings.
1955]
Smith & Shenefelt— Guide to I chneumonidae
209
cincficornis ✓
AMSLYTELINI
ICHNEUMONINAE
210 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
PLATE VI
Right Wings
P3MPLINAE, P3MPLINI, Calliephialtes sp. 9.
PIMPLINAE, PIMPLINI, Zaglyptus sp. 9 .
PIMPLINAE, POLYS PH INCT INI , Laufeia sp. 9 ♦
PIMPLINAE, POLYS PH INCT INI, Polysphincta sp. 9 .
PIMPLINAE, EPHIA1TINI, Itoplectis conquisitor 9.
PIMPLINAE, POEMENIINI, Diacritus mullebria 9 .
PIMPLINAE, RHY5SINI, Megarhyssa macrurus <? •
PIMPLINAE, THERONIINI, Theronia hilaris 9 .
PIMPLINAE, LABENINI, Labena grallator d.
PIMPLINAE, XORIDINI, Odontocolon mellipes 9 .
PIMPLINAE, A CAEN IT IN I, Arotes amoenus d.
TRYPHONINAE , ADELOGNATHINI, Adelognathus sp. 9.
TRYPHONINAE , PHYTODIET INI, Netelia sp. d .
TRYPHONINAE, ECLYTINI, Neliopisthus dens at us d «
TRYPHONINAE, GRYPOCENTR TNI , Idio gramma corns tockii 9*
TRYPHONINAE, TRYPHONINI, Polyblastus pedalis 9 .
212 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
PLATE VII
1955]
Smith & Shenefelt- — Guide to I chneumonidae
213
AptiiKptul
214 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
Fig. 99.
Fig. 100.
Fig. 101.
Fig. 102.
Fig. 103.
Fig. 10U.
Fig. 105.
Fig. 106.
Fig. 107.
Fig. 108.
Fig. 109.
Fig. 110.
Fig. 111.
Fig. 112.
Fig. 113.
Fig. 111*.
PLATE VIII
Rigfat Wings
BANCHINAE, GLYPTINI, Glypta sp. $ .
BANCHINAE, LYCORINI, Toxophoroides sp. 9 •
BANCHINAE, LISSONOTINI, Lissonota montana 9 •
BANCHINAE, LISSONOTINI, Pinplopterus sp. .
BANCHINAE, BANCHINI, Banchus sp. J .
S COLOB AT INAE, EUCERATINI, Euceros sp. c? .
SCOLOBATINAE, PIONINI, Rhorus sp. 9 .
SCOLOBATINAE, PIONINI, Pion facatus 9.
SCOLOBATINAE, CTENOPELMATINI, Xenoschesis cinctiventris 9 .
SCOLOBATINAE, MFSOLEIINI, Absyrtus sp. 9 .
SCOLOBATINAE, MFSOLEIINI, Labrossyta indotata 9 .
SCOLOBATINAE, E UR YP ROOT INI, Anisotacrus spatiosus 9 .
SCOLOBATINAE, EURYPROCTINI, Hadrodactylus sp. 9 .
SCOLOBATINAE, CALL IDIOT INI, Callidiotes sp. 9 .
ORTHOPELMATINAE, Orthopelma mediator 9 •
MESOCHORINAE , Astiphromma pec tor ale cf .
216 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
PLATE IX
Right Wings
ORTHOCENTRINAE , Orthocentrus sp. .
ORTHOGENTRINAE , S tenomaerus sp . $ •
DIPLAZONINAE, Diplazon laetatorius 9 •
DIPIAZONINAE, Enizeimim petiolatum ? •
METOPIINAE, Periope aethiops 9 •
METOPIINAE, Hypsicera femoralis 9 •
OPHIONINAE, PORIZONINI, Xdechthis canescens 9 .
OPH IONINAE , PORIZONINI, Bathyplectes sp. 9 .
OPHIONINAE, PORIZONINI, Horo genes sp. ?.
OPHIONINAE, CREMASTINI, Dimophora prima <?.
OPHIONINAE, CREMASTINI, Cremastus facilis c?.
OPHIONINAE, TERS ILOCHINI, Tersilochus sp. cf .
OPHIONINAE, ANOMALINI, Anoraalon sp. ?.
OPHIONINAE, ANOMALINI, Labrorychus sp. ?.
OPHIONINAE, ANOMALINI, Therion sp. cf.
OPHIONINAE, OPHIONINI, Ophion bilineatus ?.
1955] Smith & Shenefelt— Guide to I chneumonidae 217
218 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
1955] Smith & Shenefelt— Guide to I chneumonidae
219
GENERAL TOPOLOGY, SYMMETRY,
AND CONVEXITY
PRESTON C. HAMMER
1. Introduction
INITIALLY topological concepts were a result of geo-
metrization of analysis and an analysis of geometry. The
studies soon demonstrated the need for more and more gen¬
eral systems and in this connection the abstract space theory
and abstract general topologies have arisen. The word "ab¬
stract" may be taken to mean that the elements of the set un¬
der discussion are not specifically designated as long as cer¬
tain operations are relevant. Thus the points of an abstract
set may be geometrical points, circles, propositions, dish¬
es, men, or potatoes.
"Topology" has been associated with concepts of limit
points, homeomorphisms , continuity, and related concepts
of closed sets, open sets, neighborhoods, convergent se¬
quences, connectedness, continua and manifolds . The gen¬
eral topologies in existence have used special means to in¬
troduce the topology on the basis of axioms relating to
closed sets or closure (Kuratowski), neighborhoods or open
sets (Hausdorff, Sierpinski, Alexandroff) , directed sets (E.
H. Moore, Tukey), and filters (Weil, Bourbaki). The end
in view of all such general definitions seems to be to obtain
definitions of limit point and continuity of transformations
and to establish under what conditions special topologie s
such as metric topologies may be obtained from those sat¬
isfying definitions.
In contrast to these objectives, we here give direct def¬
initions of closedness, of closure, and of limit points re¬
quiring no initial concepts other than those associated with
set algebra and the definition of function. We refuse to spec¬
ialize, except in examples, to the topologies which topolo¬
gists consider useful since we are here dealing with a topic
which belongs in the foundations of mathematics; which has
applications in algebra, geometry, and all mathematics and
logic. We find that the simplest approach is to effectively
221
222 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
define a "convergent set” which generalizes convergent se¬
quence with the order connotation of "sequence" removed.
We say simplest after viewing many other approaches and
finding none in which examples are so readily generated. It
is to be doubted that any will start with a more direct ap¬
proach.
What are the benefits of such generality? First, the
similarities of many presumably distinct phenomena become
apparent. For example, the parentless persons, the ex¬
treme points of a convex set, the isolated points of a set,
the point of symmetry in a symmetrical configuration, the
independent proposition in a set of propositions are all shown
to be examples of the same thing. Secondly, by examining
the other systems in the light of our general definition we
find certain undesirable definitions (limit point particularly)
and we find the assumptions in many theorems conce rning
connectedness are much stronger than need be.
Thirdly, we propose to discuss at a later time the alge¬
braic homeomorphisms as particular Instances of homeomor-
phism and continuous transformations. The detail which we
do not squander will permit us to do this.
Finally, the notation system usedby topologists has been
unfortunate for two reasons. First, it has kept them from
using extensively ndistributivityn, "idempotency" or ’’fixed
elements’' which would carry useful words into a place where
they belong; and secondly, it has been poorly adapted to con¬
sideration of interaction among closures of different sorts.
We cannot claim our notation is happiest for all purpo see;
we do claim that it is superior for the purposes mentioned
to the awkward conventions generally used by topologists.
We had hoped to write this paper so that individuals with
a modest mathematical training could follow it. We have
given numerous examples near the end of the paper to help
with the formation of the mental images so vital to the un¬
derstanding of any theory. The best example from some
standpoints is the geneological one. The reader who wants
an example in which most concepts of this paper are illus -
trated will do well to read this example early and keep re¬
ferring to it throughout the paper. Unfortunately we cannot
give a theory of set arithmetic, nor can we stop to discuss
transfinite inductions and the well -ordering axiom. We as¬
sume the well-ordering axiom when needed but the reader
will not miss much conceptually if he confines himself to
1955] Hammer, P. C. — General Topology, Symmetry & Convexity 223
finite sets. It is one advantage of this method that it has
relevance for finite sets.
2. Notation and Conventions
We will use M (perhaps with subscripts) to denote a set
of points in which all other sets under discussion are con¬
tained. The empty set, N, is the subset of M without ele¬
ments. We will variously use C, L., K as classes of sub¬
sets of M; then the elements of C, L or K are subsets of M.
If a set contains a single element, p, then we designate that
set by { p}. For some purposes, the set { p} or element p
could be used interchangeably. However, for example, { pj
contains N as a subset, the element p has no subset.
The set relations and operations of relevance here are
defined for subsets X, Y and Z of M. Z\ = XUY is the set
of all elements in X or Y (or both). This set is the union
of X and Y. The set Zz = XO Y is called the intersection (or
cross-cut) of X and Y and is comprised of all points or ele¬
ments which are in both X and Y. The difference Z3 = X^
Y is the set of all points in X which are not in Y. The dif¬
ference M^X is called the complement of X.„ If all elements
of Y are elements of X we say X contains Y, XDY, or equiv¬
alently Y is contained in X, YCX, If X does not contain Y
we write X3 Y. If p is an element of X we write p € X, if
q is not an element of X we write q C X. The union of a
class C of sets is the set which contains all elements in all
sets in the class and is denoted by U* 1 2 X, X € C. The inter¬
section of a class C of sets is the set all elements of which
are elements of every set in C. This is denoted O X, X €
C. For any class C of sets the following laws of De Morgan
hold;
(1) Ox = M~U(M~X) and
(2) Ux = M~n(M~X) for X e C.
We use the Greek letters oc , >3, V , yu, ~\J in the sense of
ordinal numbers and also merely to designate an element in
a class. For example, { Xcx } may be, depending on context,
a well-ordered class of sets or merely a class of sets of
which Xqc is a "typical" one. Thus ^/X<x means the union of
all sets in the class { Xa} well-ordered or not.
224 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
3. Set Valued Set Functions
Let M be a set and let C be a class of subsets of M. Let
f be a function defined for each set Y € C and such that f Y is
a subset of M. Let L be the class of all subsets fY for Y €
C. Then f is a set valued set function mapping C onto L .
This may be designated f : C to L.
To each set valued set function f as described there cor¬
responds an associated limit function fj. A function f i : C i
to Li is called a limit function if Y € C 1 impl ies i\Y C\Y ~
N, and f i Y #= N. If the class C i of subsets of M is empty
we say that f i is an empty limit function. Now for a given
set-valued set function f : C to L the associated limit func¬
tion fi is defined on the subclass Cl of C obtained by delet¬
ing all sets Y from C such that YD fY and f i is determined
by the condition f i Yi - f Y i ^ Y i for Y i €. C i .
It is clear that fj is a limit function. If fj is vacuous ;
i.e. , if YDfY for all Y € C we say f is a retraction function.
With every function f : C to L there corresponds a unique
associated inclusion preserving enlargement (i . p . e . ) func -
tion g defined for all subsets of M such that gX = XUU fY,
YDX, Y € C. A function g : Cz to L2 is an inclusion pre¬
serving enlargement (i.p.e.) function if gXDX for X € Cz
and if XDY, X, Y € Cz implies gXDgY.
Theorem 3. 1. Let f : C to L, fi : Ci to Li, g and gi be
respectively a set valued set function f, its associa ted
limit function, fj, its associated i.p.e. function g and
let g i be the associated i.p.e. function of £\. Then g j
= g; i.e., g jX = gX for all XC M.
Proof: By definition gX = XUUfY, YDX, Y € C and hence
if Y € Cl we have fYC Y but if also Y £ Ci then f(Y) UY
= f i Y UY. Hence gjLX « XUlJflY; Y € Ci; YCX is the
same set as gX.
A set XCM is said to be f-closed if and only if XDY, Y
€ C implies always XDfY. The complement of an f-closed
set is f-open.
Theorem 3.2.
f-open.
The set M is f-closed. The null set N is
1955] Hammer, P. C. — General Topology, Symmetry & Convexity 225
Proof: Since MDYUfY for all Y € C the theorem holds.
Theorem 3.3. The intersection set of a class of f-closed
sets is f-closed.
Proof* Let Z be the intersection set of a class of f-closed
sets of which, say, X is a typical member. Then if Z
DY € C then XDZDY and XDfY since X is f-closed.
Hence Z Df Y and Z is f-closed.
To every set-valued set function f there corresponds a
unique associated closure function h defined for each subset
X of M as the intersection set of the class of all f-c 1 o s e d
sets containing X; i.e. , hX is the minimal f-closed set con¬
taining X. The set hX exists since MDX and M is f-closed
and by Theorem 3. 3 the intersection set of all f-closed sets
in a class is an f-closed set.
Theorem 3,4. Let f i and g be respectively associated lim¬
it and i.p.e. functions of f. Then the associated closure
functions hi, and h-2 of f i and g respectively are identi¬
cal to the associated closure function, h, of f. That is,
the classes of fi-closed, g-closed, f-closed and h-
closed sets are identical.
The proof is direct and will be omitted.
Any set valued set function h defined on all subsets of M
is called a closure function if and only if h is an i.p.e. func¬
tion and h is idempotent or projective; i.e. , h(hX) = hX for
all X.
The composition of any i.p.e. function g defined on all
subsets of M may be given for transfinite repeated composi¬
tions as follows; Let g^X = X, g^-X - gX and for a given or¬
dinal oc > 1 define Ycx_ - U /$<qc X and g^ X = g Yqc . Thus
we obtain an inductive definition of composition. Similarly,
one may define a composition according to a well-ordered
set of i.p.e. functions which are not necessarily all equal.
Theorem 3.5. To every i.p.e. function g defined on a*ll
subsets of M there corresponds a unique minimal ordin¬
al X 0 such that the composition g^o is a closure function
h. Moreover, g(g^QX) = g*°X for all sets X. Theclos-
226 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
ure function h is the unique closure function associated
with g.
Proof: First, let X be a set and observe that gaX3g^X
for oc >/L Hence, there exists a unique minimal ordin¬
al X (which may = 0) such that gXX = g(gXX) since M 3
gocX for all oc . Moreover, then it is clear that g^X is
g-closed and hence ga- X = g^X is g-closed for oc >X.
Now letX0 be the unique minimal ordinal not exceeded
byXfor any X (since X depends on X). Then g^°X = g(g^°
X) and gX°X is g-closed for all X. Hence h = g^o is a
closure function since h(hX) = hX. That h is the closure
function associated with g is clear, since every h-closed
set is g-closed and conversely.
The unique minimal ordinal Asuch that g^X = g(g \x) is
called the g-closing order of X or, if g is the i.p.e. function
associated with a function f, then we also call X the f-closing
order of X. The ordinalXo is called the closing order of g
(or of f).
Let f : C to L be a given limit function. Let Z = UfY for
all Y 6 C; i. e. , Z is the union of all sets in L. Let a be any
point of Z and define Ca to be the class of all sets Y € C such
that a € fY. Define fa : Ca to { a } so that if Y € Ca faY =
{a}. We call each function fa for all a € Z a fragment of f and
the class of all such functions fa a fragmentation of f. Cor¬
responding to each fragment fa of f there are the associated
i.p.e. functions ga and the closure functions ha. The union
of functions and intersections of functions is defined as ex¬
pected; i. e . , f3 = f lUf2 is given by f3X = f iX(Jf2X and so on.
Theorem 3. 6. A set X is fa-closed if and only if a € X or
for every Y € Ca X l£)Y. Hence, the i.p.e. function ga
and the closure function ha are identical. The function
f is the union of all its fragments . The functions ga are
fragments of the associated i.p.e. function g of f.
Proof: If a € X and then clearly X is fa-closed. If a € ' X,
then X cannot contain Y € Ca if X is fa-closed. If X ~£>
Y € Ca then X is fa-closed whether or not a € X. That
f is the union of its fragments follows from the defini¬
tions, provided we assign faY - N if Y € * Ca, Y € C.
Since the maximum closing order of ga is 1 it follows
1955] Hammer, P. C. — General Topology, Symmetry & Convexity 227
that ha = ga. That ga is a fragment of g follows from
the definitions of the associated i.p.e. functions and of
fragment.
If f : C to L is limit-function, then we say that for a €
Z =UfY, fY 6 L that each set Yi € Ca is a convergent set or
merely a convergent and a is an f -limit point of each such Yj.
Theorem 3.7. Let f : C to L be a limit function. Then if
fQ is the union of a subclass of the fragments fa off,
every set which is f-closed is f0-closed.
Proof: Since f DfOJ and since the class CQ on which fQ is
defined is a subclass of C, we have that if X is f-closed
then X is f0-closed.
Theorem 3.8. Let gx and g2 be two i.p.e. functions de¬
fined for all subsets of M. For the function g 3 = g ] KJ
g2 the class of all g^-closed sets contains precisely
those sets which are both g 3 -closed and g2 -closed. For
the function g^ = g^Py g2 the class of g^-closed sets con¬
tains all sets which are g j -closed or g2-closed. More¬
over, the class of g^-closed sets is the smallest class
of g-closed sets containing all gj-closed sets and g£-
closed sets for any i.p.e. function g.
Proof: It is clear if X is -closed then it is g j-cl o s e d
and gv-clos ed. Conversely, if X is g ^ -closed and g2~
closed then g3X = gjXO g2X = X and Xis g3-closed.
Now if X is g^-closed or g2-closed then g4X = g^XO g2
X = X and X is g4-closed. However, if X is g4-closed
it is not necessarily g -^-closed or g2~closed, since a
necessary and sufficient condition for g4-closure of X
is that (g^X^X)O (g2X~X) = N which does not imply
always g^X = X or g2X = X.
Now suppose g is an i.p.e, function such that class of
all g-closed sets is the smallest class which contains all
g X -closed sets and all g 2 -closed sets, andall inte r sec¬
tions of its subclasses. Then we will show that the g-
closed sets are g4-closed. If Xis a g-closed set then X=
X1/PX2 where Xl is g x -closed and X2 is g2-closed since
X is an intersection of a class of sets containing only f x -
closedand f2-closed sets. Now gxXx = X4 and g2^2 =X2.
228 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
Hence, g2(Xi Hx2) C glX2 = Xi and g2(XinX2) Cg2X2
= X2. Hence g4X = g2X Og2XC X2 Hx2 = X. But since g4
is ani.p.e. function g4X Z3X and hence g4X = X and X is g4«
closed. Hence g4«closure gives the smallest class of
closed sets containing all g^ -closed sets and g2-cl o s e d
sets .
It may be remarked in concluding this section that we
have projected all set-valued functions into a subclass of
limit functions and also into a class of inclusion preserving
enlargement functions. The latter class is then projected
into the closure functions by (possibly transfinite) repeated
composition of each i.p.e, function. The closure functions
are the idempotent or projective subclass of the i.p.e * func¬
tions. The sets fixed under an i.p.e. function g are the g-
closed sets .
4. Properties of i.p.e. and Closure Functions
If g is an i.p.e, function defined on all sub sets of M
then there is always a limit function f such that g is the as¬
sociated i. p. e . function of f. In particular, such a func¬
tion may be obtained by defining fX = gX~X for all sets X
which are not g-closed; then f is a limit function, since gX =
X if and only if X is g-closed. In the following two theo¬
rems we summarize properties of i.p.e. and closure func¬
tions which indicate clearly the relationship with the gener¬
al topologies of Si er pin ski and Kuratowski.
Theorem 4. 1. Let f : C to L be a set function, let g be
it's associated i.p.e. function; then the elementary. prop¬
erties of g are:
(a) Enlargement: gX T>X.
(b) Inclusion preservation: If XjY, gXDgY.
(c) A necessary and sufficient condition for a set X
to be f-closed (or g-closed) is gX = X; i. e ., X is
a fixed element of g.
(d) The function g is subdistributive with respect to
set union: g(X U Y) 3 gXU gY.
(e) The function g is super distributive with respect
to set intersection: g(xO Y)d gX 0 gY.
(f ) The function g is a closure function if and only if
g is idempotent or projective; i. e ., g^X = gX.
1955] Hammer, P. C. — General Topology, Symmetry & Convexity 229
Proof: Parts a, b, c, and f are directly consequences of
definitions or are merely definitions. Parts d and e are
consequences of inclusion preservation, since, for ex¬
ample, XU Y DX and XUY DY, then by (b) g(XU Y) D
gXUgY.
Now, the closures we have defined include those of
Sierpinski, since we do not admit that the null set N is nec¬
essarily closed, and since the following theorem holds, as
is readily shown.
Theorem 4.2. Let K be any class of subsets of M contain¬
ing M and such that the intersection set of every subclass
of K is in K. Then, designating by hX the intersection of
all sets in K which contain a set X, we have that hX = X
is an h-closure function in our definition. To obtain
the closed sets of Sierpinski' s general topology it is nec¬
essary and sufficient also to require that K contain the
null set N.
The advantages of our approach, however, will be more
clearly seen in the definitions of limit points, in the orders
of limit points, and in the generalizations of connectedness.
These are a distinct advantage, however, only if one does
not concede that the interesting theory must be reduced to
that involving infinite convergent sets and to the classical in¬
terests of topology. The psychological advantages of the in¬
troduction we have made are great, in that many examples
of systems may be readily constructed from general set val¬
ued set functions. Another advantage of detail, appears in
the intermediate i.p.e. functions which are not closure
functions .
Now Kuratowski assumed a closure function h which is
distributive (with respect to set union); i. e ., h(XUY) * hX
U hY. For any limit function f, in which the convergent sets
contain two or more points each but not an infinite numbe r,
the f-closure is automatically excluded from the Kuratowski
topologies, as the following two theorems show.
Theorem 4. 3. Let f : C to L be a limit function with the
property that each set in C contains precisely one point .
Then the f-closure function h is universally distributive;
i.e., hX = h(U pex {p} ) =Upex h { p} . In other words ,
230 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
the f-closure of X is the union of the f-closures of its
points considered as sets.
Proof*. Suppose q € hX for any set X. Then if q € 1 X it
follows that q € g0* X^X for some unique minimal ordin¬
al a. where g is the associated i.p.e. function off. But
gX = XUUf {p} whe re {p} € C and hence every point in
gX^X is in h{,p} for some p € X, {.p} € C. Similarly
by induction it may be shown that each point in gX'VXis
in h {p} for some p. Hence, q 6 h {p} for some p € X,
tp} € C. Therefore, hX = Upex h fp} since p €. h {p} .
Theorem 4.4. Let f : C to L be a limit function for which
its associated closure function h is finitely distributive.
Then if C contains no set of cardinal less than 2, every
convergent set must necessarily be infinite.
Proof: Since the cardinal of every convergent set is at
least 2, the null set and every one -point set are f-closed.
Now suppose C contains a finite set Y with k elements
p i , ...» pk« Then by the finite distributivity of h we have
hY = $Jh {Pi} = U{pi} = Y. But since f is a limit func¬
tion fY f)Y = N and hY D Y UfY which is a contradiction.
Hence every convergent set must be infinite.
It may be observed that if the null set and one -point s ets
are all closed then the convergent sets necessarily contain
no one-point sets.
Corollary 4.5. If f : C to L is a limit function and all sets
Y € C have finite cardinal no less than two then the f-
closure function h cannot be distributive.
Certain applications, of which convexity is one of the
best mathematical examples, Kuratowski’s topology excludes
Distributivity of closures with respect to set intersection is
a property which seems relatively profitless to in ve stigate
since if h(Xf)Y) - hXOhY then with Y = M ^X we have hN =
hXOh(M^X) for every X. If we require hN = N; i.e., the *
null set N to be h-closed, then -every set is h-closed for hX
flh(M<~X) = N and hX DX, h(M-X)f) M~X implies hX = X.
If N is not h-closed then XC hXCX UhN and M~XC h(M~
X)C (M~X)UhN, and since hX3 hN and h(M~X) D hN, we
1955] Hammer, P. C. — General Topology, Symmetry & Convexity 231
have again hX~ (hN— X) = X for all X.
The generalization of Appert and Fan in which inclusion
preservation is violated; i.e., h(X U Y) C hX UhY, we do not
include here. However, we can obtain such examples by re¬
quiring that the function h be inclusion reversing; i. e if X
D Y then hY 3 hX, but this does not seem appropriate for ex¬
amples we have in mind.
The interior function j associated with a closure func¬
tion h is defined by jX - {J Zt Z, h-open, ZC X. That is, jX
is the maximal h-open set contained in X.
Theorem 4.6. The interior function, j, associated w i t h
a closure function satisfies the following properties:
(a) The interior function is a retraction function, i.e .,
jxC x.
(b) The interior function is inclusion preserving; i.e .,
if XD Y then jXDjY.
(c) If and only if X is h-open does jX = X; i.e., the
h-open sets are the only fixed sets under j.
(d) The interior function is idempotent or projective;
i.e., j(jX) = jX.
(e) The interior function is subdistributive with re¬
spect to set unions; i.e., j(XUY) 3 jX VJ j Y.
(f ) The interior function is super distributive with re¬
spect to set intersection; i.e., j(X fl Y)C jX O jY.
The analogy of the properties of the interior function j
with those of closure function is obvious . Of course, jX =>
M^h(M^X). In particular, jN = N from (a). In view of the
idempotence of j, we might ask for inclusion preserving re¬
traction functions without the idempotence properties . How¬
ever, since this development again closely parallels that of
the inclusion preserving enlargement function we will not
discuss it further . In this section we have given certain in¬
dications of the differences between the detailed system we
are developing and the systems of Sierpinski and Kuratow-
ski. The advantage of using functional notation instead of
other symbols should now be apparent. It may be felt that
we have not obtained the general topology of Sie rpins ki
which rests on a definition of limit point . However, in the
next section we give two definitions of limit points , one of
which is equivalent to that of Sierpinski.
232 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
5. Limit Points
In this section we define two types of limit points as well
as orders of limit points. We find here that our refined an¬
alysis requires that we deviate from the definition given by
Sierpinski, and the one usually accepted, to give a more ac¬
ceptable definition. However, it turns out that, from the
standpoint of classical topology, the two definitions are equiv¬
alent and even in general topology many of the most signifi¬
cant results are unaltered for reasons which will be made
clear. We assume throughout that f : C to Lis a limit func¬
tion and g and h its associated i.p.e. and closure functions
respectively. We will usually speak here of f-limit point
although they will also be g-limit points and h -limit points.
For the generality and detail later, we re qu i r e the i.p.e.
function g but we could logically, although inconveniently,
dispense with f.
A point p is a strong f-limit point of a set X if and only
if p € h(X^{p}). The set of all strong f-limit points of set
X is called the strong f-de rived set of X and we designate it
by f"X. The strong f-limit points are the limit points of
Sierpinski and of classical topology.
A point p is an f-limit point of a set X if and only if p €
h(hX~{p}). The set of all f-limit points of a set Xis called
the f-derived set of X and is designated f'X.
Theorem 5.1. The set functions f ' and f" have the follow¬
ing properties:
(a) The functions f' and f" are inclusion preserving;
i.e., if XDY then f’X D f'Y and f'XDf'Y.
(b) Every strong f-limit point is an f-limit point; i.e.,
f'Df".
(c) The function f — f ' ' is a retraction function; i.e.,
for every set X f'X^f'XC X.
(d) For every f-closed set X, f'X - f*'X.
(e) For every set X, f'XDhX^X, f"XDhX~X,
f'XC hX, and f"XC hX.
(f ) For every set X the set f’X is f-closed.
Proof: Parts a and b follow directly from the definitions,
since hXDX. For part e, if p € hX~X then p € f'Xand
p € f'X since X~{p} = X and h(hX~{p}) = hX. Now
since f'XD f"XDhX~X we have f'X~f"XCX which
1955] Hammer, P. C. — General Topology, Symmetry & Convexity 233
gives (c). If X is f-closed then hX = X and the defini¬
tions of f'X and fnX coincide, which proves (d). To es¬
tablish (f) let Y £ C, YC f'X. Then if p € f Y, p € h(hX —
{p}) since hXDf'Xby (e) and h.2x = hX^) hf'X Z>fY so that
p fe h(f'X~£p}) * hf'XC h(hX^£p}). But then p 6 f'X by
definition. Hence, f 'X ZD fY and f'X is f-closed.
In general, fMX is not f-closed and this is one of the ad¬
vantages of our definition of f-limit point. On the other
hand, the sets f'X and f"X differ at most by a subset of X
and if X is f-closed then f'X = f'X. Hence, many theorems
proved by Sierpinski hold for f'X as well as for f 'X. It
should be noted too that in our definition the set of limit
points of X and of hX coincide. This is not generally true
of the classical definition.
Theorem 5.2 If f is a limit function such that h(X~ {p}
\J (p) ) = h(X~ { p} )U Cp} for every set X and every p €
X then f ' = f " .
Proof: Since f'D fn and ft— f ' ' is a retraction function by
Theorem 5. 1, (b, c) we merely need show that under the
assumptions made that if p 6 ' f "X and p € X then p € '
f'X. Consider hX = h(X~{p}U{p}) = h(X^{p})U {p} .
Now since p € ' f'X, p € ' h(X^{p}) and hence hX~{p} =
h(X^{p}). But then hX— »{p} is f-closed since h(X^»{p})
is f-closed and hence h(hX^{p}) = -hX~ {p} and p€ 1
h{hX^» {p}). That is, p € ' f'X.
The conditions of Theorem 5.2 are fulfilled, for ex¬
ample, if the closure function h is distributive with respect
to set union and h { p} = Cp} for every point p. Thus for
most interests associated with classical topology, the strong
f-limit points and the f-limit points are identical. However,
there are interesting examples in which these conditions of
Theorem 5.2 are not fulfilled and in which f* f". The
simplest example perhaps is that in which M contains only
two points, p and q, and we define f {p} = { q} and f { q) =
Cp}. Then h {p} - M and f' Cp} - M but f" Cp} = {q} which
is not f-closed. That is to say, we permit p to be an f- lim¬
it point of Cp}, whereas Sierpinski's definition does not.
Theorem 5.3. A point p € f'X if and only if every f-open
234 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
set containing p also contains a point of {p} . A point
q € f'X if and only if every f-open set containing q also
contains a point of hX~ CqK
Proof: Suppose p € f "X and Z an f-open set containing p.
Then if Z H (X“^{p}) = N we would have Z 3 X~£p}
and since Z is f-closed, M^ZZ) h(X~{pl), But p €
h(X~£p}) by definition and hence ZH (X~£p}) # N. Con¬
versely, suppose every open set Z containing p inter¬
sects X~lp} in a non-empty set. Then p €. h(X~ { p} ) or
h(X~ 4 p}- ) is an f-open set containing p but no element
of X- {p} . Hence p € f'X. A similar argument proves
the last part of the theorem.
We now define the set Xa of (oc,f)-limit points ofX for
ordinals ot by an inductive procedure. The (1, f) -limit point
set, Xl, of a set X, is the setU fY, YC X, Y € C. If the”
set X^ of (/3, f)-limit points of X has been defined for /$< oc
let Zoc = X U U /3<oc X$ . Then the set, Xa- , of (oc , f) -limit
points of X is the set of all points not in U 3<oc X# which are
in U fY for Y € C, YC Za .
Theorem 5.4. For each set X there exists a unique mini¬
mal ordinal ocQ such that the set X01 ° of (a Q, f) -limit
points of X is empty. Then the f-closure hX may be
written as a union of mutually exclusive sets: hX = X°
cc0 X^* The set X° is a subset of X which con¬
tains all elements which are not (oc , f) -limit points of
X for any a . Moreover, f'X = U fic<x Q X^ and hence
U$<oc0 X£ is an f-closed set.
Proof: SinceC Za} forms a non-decreasing family of sets
there exists unique minimal ordinal oc 0 such that Z (X Q
- Zoc. o 4-1 anc^ then Xao = jsj (for the lowest oc 0) . Since
XC Zqc hX for all oc and Zqc 0 is f-closed (a c o n s e-
quence of Zqc 0 = Z oc 0 + 1 ) it follows that Zqc q * hX. Now
if p € f'X then p t h(hX~ {p} ); i . e ., there exists a Y C
hX*~ Cp}, Y € C such that p € fY. But then p € v* <oc o
X^ since Zqc 0 = hX. Conversely, if p € U$<oc0 X^
then p € h(hX~£p} ) since then p € fY for some Y € C,
YC hX. Hence f'X = LJ £< a Q X$ which is f-c 1 o s e d by
Theorem 5. 1 (f). Then, hX^f'X = X° is contained in X
and no point of X° is in Xa .
1955] Hammer, P. C.- — General Topology, Symmetry & Convexity 235
Theorem 5.4 is the principal argument in favor of our
definition of f-limit point since in general fMX =£ U /3 < oc 0
and it appears reasonable to term every element of an X^
a limit element of X. It is understood, of course, that "lim¬
it" is a term used for convenience, the traditional concept
of limit point being greatly extended as our examples will
show. To every point p in hX we may assign a unique num¬
ber 0 or an ordinal oc according as p 6 X° or p € Xa . Now
we come to the use of the i.p.e. function g associated with
f to obtain another decomposition of hX related to that to
Theorem 5.4. For a given set X we have observed that there
exists a unique minimal ordinalXsuch that g^ X = hX.
Theorem 5.5. The closure hX of X may be decomposed
into mutually exclusive non-vacuous sets as follows :
hX = XUU oc <X [g(X X^ U/?,< oc g^x] which is identical
with the decomposition hX = X U U cx. i X (Xaro X), where
Xis the f-closing order of X and Xa is the set of (oc , f)-
limit .points of X.
Proof: We first remark that Xa~ X = gaX~'Us<0C g^X
since g(X X DXa and each point in X00*^ X is in g(X X but
not in g^X for $< cx . Now since g^ X = hX we have
from Theorem 5. 4 that hX * X°U Uqc < cx 0 XCX = X U
Uoc<oc.0(x0c~X) since XDX°. But, since X<OCq, we
have X(X~ X = N for a >X. Hence hX = XUUoc < X (Xa
~X).
The image associated with Theorem 5. 5 is that of suc¬
cessive addition of layers of limit points of higher and high¬
er order to X to achieve finally the f-closure. Examples of
symmetry, convexity, and systems of propositions will illus¬
trate this point later. In the ordinary closures this detail
is missed, since the closing order is 1 at most. Certain
definitions involving f-limit points are now in order.
A point p € X is an f-isolated point of X if and only if p
is not an f-limit point of X. A set X is f-dense -in-itself if
and only if f'XDX. A set X is f-dense in Y if and only if
f'XDY. A set X is f-thick in Y if and only if hX 3 Y. A set
comprised of f-isolated points is f-isolated. An f-c 1 o s e d
set which is f-dense in itself is f-perfect. The f -nucleus of
a set X is the maximal subset of X which is f-dense-in-itself.
If the f-nucleus of X is empty, then X is said to be f-s cat -
236 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
tered. The f-frontier of a set X is the set [f,(M'~X)f'\ xj
u [(M~x)nfxjr
Theorem 5.6. The set, E, of all f-isolated points of an
f-closed set, X, is the maximal subset of X such that
X^El is f-closed for every subset Ei of E and con¬
versely.
Successive removals of f-isolated points of an f-closed
set, X, gives a decomposition of X into an f-perfect3et and
f-isolated sets of certain subsets of X. Specifically, let E \
be the set of f-isolated points of X. Then if E$ has been de¬
fined for /3<oc, define Zqc. = X*"*** /3 < oc E ^ and Ea. is the
set of f-isolated points of Zoc • The unique minimal ordinal
M such that Z ^ = Z^j is called the f-perfecting order of X.
Then X — Z^q UUoc<ju E<X is the decomposition since ZjUis
f-perfect .
In some cases it is convenient to define a relative f-
closure. For example, a set ZG X is f-closed relative to X
if Z 3 Y € C implies Z 3 Xf) f( Y) . Since we may use X as
the space, then all the theorems concerning f-closure apply
to relative f-closure.
6. Connectedness
In popular language two events or phenomena are con -
nected if there is virtually any sort of relationship between
them. In topological usage one restricts connectedness of¬
ten to be the negation of separability. We will generalize the
concept of connectedness greatly, but we basically proceed
by a negation of separability. The surprising feature of our
general definitions is that so many of the standard theorems
concerning connected sets are unaltered in form, indicating
that the assumptions for the theorems as usually stated are
tod strong.
A pair of sets Xj, X2 is a dichotomy of X if and only if
Xi N, X2 =£ N, xxn X2 = N and X = XLU X2. Let S be a
class of pairs of sets (Uqc , Vqc) where the subscripts are
used for convenience, and where Uo.0 V<x s N for all pairs
in S. Then two sets X and Y neither of which is empty are
said to be S-separated if there exists a pair (Uqc > Vqc ) £ S
such that Uqc 3 X and Vex 3 Y or Uqc 3 Y and Vqc 3 X. It is
necessary for X and Y to be S-separated that X O Y = N since
1955] Hammer, P. C.— General Topology, Symmetry & Convexity 237
UaOVoc = N. If we assume, as we shall hereafter, that
(Uoc, Voc ) € S implies that (VcX , Uqc ) € S then we may state
that X and Y are S-separated if there exists a pair of sets
(Ucx., Vqc) € S such that 3 X and Va D Y.
A set X is said to be S-connected if no dichotomy of X
is S-separated; i.e. , if for every dichotomy Xj, X2 of Xand
(Uoc , Vex ) 6 S it follows that U Xx or V X2.
Corollary 6.1. The null set is S-connected and every set
containing precisely one point is S-connected.
Theorem 6.2. If X^ and X2 are S-separated sets and if
Y 1 and Y2 are a pair of non-empty sets such that Xj D
Y 1 and X^ D Y2 then Y \ and Y2 are S-separated.
Proof: Let Uqc DYj and Vqc DX2. Then Ua D YX and
3Y2 which states that Y \ and Y2 are S-separated.
Theorem 6.3. If an S-connected set X is contained in the
union, YiU Y%i of two S-separated sets then either X
CYi or XCY2.
Proof: Let = YjOx and X2 = Y2flX. Then X = XiU
X2. But since there is a pair of sets (U, V) £ S suchthat
UDYi and VDY2 then U DX[ and VDX2. ButthenXx
= N or X2 = N or Xi,X2 is an S-separated dichotomy of
X. If X: = N then XC Y2 and if X2 = N then XC Yi-
Theorem 6.4. If X is an S-connected set and Y is any
set containing X and contained inO.Uoc where Uqc DX
and (Uqc > Vqc) € S then Y is S-connected.
Proof: Let Y\, Y% be a dichotomy of Y and suppose con¬
trary to conclusion that there is a pair of sets (U, V) €
S such that UDYj and V DY2. Define Xi = Yi PlX, X2
= YiO X, X2 = Y20x. Then X!VJX2 = X since YDX
and UZ?Xj, V^X2 which gives-Xj, X2 as an S-separa-
tion of X unless Xi = N or X2 = N. Suppose, say, X2 =
N. Then Xj. = X and UDX. But then UD f\UaDY for
Uqc 3 X, and (Uqc , Va ) € S since U is one of these sets
Uqc and hence Y2 = N which contradicts the assumption
that Y 1 , Y2 is a dichotomy of Y. Hence Y is S-connect¬
ed.
238 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
Theorem 6. 5. If every pair of points in a set X are in an
S-connected subset of X then X is S-connected.
Proof: Let X^ , X2 be a dichotomy of X. Let p ^ £ Xj and
P2 € X^. Then there is a set Y Cl X such that p ^ € Y,
P2 ^ Y and Y is S-connected. Hence there is no pair of
sets (U, Y) € S such that U D Xj and V D X2 or U 3 Yfl
X^ and V D Yfl X2 and YflXp Yfl X2 is a dichotomy of
Y. Hence no dichotomy of X is S-separated and X is S -
connected.
Theorem 6. 6. If X and Y are S-connected sets and X U Y
is not S-connected, then X and Y are S-separated.
Proof: If X U Y is not S-connected, then there is a dichot¬
omy Z ^ of X U Y and a pair of sets (U, V) € S such
that U3Z^ and V D Z2. But by Theorem 6. 3, XC Zj,
or XC Z2 and then Y C Z2 or Y C Z ^ respectively andX
and Y are S-separated.
Theorem 6. 7. Let {. X^} be a well-ordered class of non¬
empty S-connected sets. Let Ya = U^g< a X^g and let
Z * Ux^, Then if for every ordinal oc in the range of
^ it follows that Xqj. and Yq- are not S-separated sets,
Z is S-connected.
Proof: Let Z^, Z2 be a dichotomy of Z and suppose, con¬
trary to conclusion, that there exists a pair of sets (U,
V) € S such that UDZp and VD Z2. Since each set X^
is S-connected it follows from Theorem 6. 3 that X^ C
Zj or X^C Z2. Suppose, say, X^CZ Z ^ . Let U be the
first ordinal such that X-^ d Z Then Yv * U^ct/
X^CZL C U and X-y d V. But then X^/ and Yv are
S-separated contrary to hypothesis and hence Z is S -
connected.
The above Theorem is the most general statement con¬
cerning the connectedness of a union of connected sets of
which we are aware. However, since it depends on well¬
ordering, we state another which does not depend on well -
ordering .
Theorem 6. 8. Let K = *£ X^} be a class of non-empty S-
1955] Hammer, P. C. — General Topology, Symmetry & Convexity 239
connected sets . Let Y be the union set of any proper
subclass of K. Then if there exists a set 6
Kj for each such Y such that and Y are not S-separ-
ated it follows that Z = u X^ is an S-connected set.
Proof: Contrary to conclusion suppose Z Z^ is an S -sep¬
arated dichotomy of Z so that there is a pair of sets (U,
V) € S such UDZ| and V Z> Z^. Then by Theorem 6 . 3
for every appropriate fi , X o C Z ^ or XoC Z^. Let Y -
U Xp where X^g C Z ^ . Then Y C Z j C U and let X^ be
the set required by the Theorem. Then X^C 2^. V and
then Y and X^ are S-separated contrary to assumption.
Hence Z is S-connected.
Corollary 6.9. If K is a class of S-connected sets such
that every pair of sets in K have a common point then
the union of all sets in K is S-connected.
Corollary 6.10. If K = { X^g } is a class of well-o r d e r e d
S-connected sets such that for each ordinal oc X_ has
oc
a point in common with U p a then the union of all
sets in K is S-connected.
Corollary 6.11. If K - { X^g} is a class of S-connected
sets such that if Y is the union of any proper subclass
Kj of K there exists a set Xa € such that Y O
XQC 9^ N then the union of all sets in K is S-connected.
The general definitions of S-separation and S -connected¬
ness we have given have not been related to the limit func¬
tions or more appropriately to their associated i.p.e. func¬
tions and closure functions. Let f be a limit function and h
its associated closure function. Then with S comprised of
the pairs containing hX and M hX for all subsets X we ob¬
tain the h- connectedness as a special form of S-connect e d-
ness. This is the usual form of connectedness. However,
for connectedness of a more rigid character or of a differ¬
ent degree of generality, we are constrained to introduce an¬
other mode of generalization of connectedness.
Let g g^ be a pair of i.p.e. functions defined for all
subsets of M. Then we say that a pair of non-empty sets
xl> x2 are gl g2 -separated if g1XjL H N ~ §2X1^
240 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
g^X£. A set X is called g ig2 -connected if no dichotomy of
X is g ig£-separated. Note that with g2 the identity i.p. e.
function and gj = h we have h-connectedness as a particular
case of g jg2~connectedness . If g2 is the identity and g ^ = g
we speak of g-separated sets and g-cormected sets as spec¬
ial cases of g ig2“ separation and g ig2-connectedness . It is
not possible, in general, to reduce g ^g^-separation and g-
separation to S-separation, since we require specific sets
to be associated with set pairs for separation in the former
case .
Theorem 6. 12. Let S : {(Uqc > Voc )} be a class of pairs of
sets which gives an S-separation. Then S-separation
implies gg-separation with g defined by gX = OUqc for
UcxDX, (Uoc, Voc) e s.
Proof: Suppose X and Y are two S-separated sets. Then
there exists (U, V) € S such that UDX and V 3 Y. But,
by definition, U 3 gX and V 3 g Y and hence, since U (A
V = N we have gX/lgY = N, which is gg-separation.
Since in general the converse of Theorem 6. 12 does not
hold, we now are faced with establishing theorems concern¬
ing the g 1 g 2 - c onn e c t e d sets and g-connected sets. How¬
ever, rather than restate theorems, the basic forms of
which do not change, we will merely state that all the fore¬
going Theorems and Corollaries, 6.1 -6.11 hold for gig2~
separation and g ig2 -connectednes s , and hence for g-con-
nectedness . We will merely prove results hereafter spec¬
ifically appropriate to g xg2”connectednes s . When we refer
to a Theorem or Corollary numbered from 6. 1 to 6. 11 it
will be understood that we mean the appropriate re -wording
of that proposition.
oc i oc-2 Ai
Lemma 6. 13. If X is g ^ g^ -connected, then g ^ 1 Xand
g2^ X are each g^l 2 -connected where 1 - A] ^ oc ]
and 1 = /*2 = a 2«
Proof: Let Z = g^ X and suppose Z j , Z? to be a g^ 1 g^"2-
separation of Z. Then X = X1UX2 where Xi = ZjPtX
and X2 = Z2 O X since Z ~DX. Now either Xi = N or X2
1955] Hammer , P. C.- — General Topology , Symmetry & Convexity 241
= N or one of gj*1 X \ Pig? 2 X2 =t= N and g£ 2 Xi Ogi 1
Xx =#= N hold. But, since Z 1 Z) Xi , g x* * Xl C g j01 1 Z 1
etc. , so that since Z 1 , Z2 is the indicated separation
of Z we must have gp 1 XxH g2°c 2 X2 = N = gz* 2 XxO
gl^ 1 X2. Hence, say, X2 = N since X is g {*- 1 g2°C 2-
connected. However, then Xi = X and Z = g * X = g ^
X lC,' g * ZiC gi^1 Z l since /S x *= oc 1 and then g ^ 1
Z 1 O g2<X 2 Z2 Z) Z2 N which is contradictory. Hence
/5 1 ft?
the theorem holds for gx X and similarly forg2 X.
Corollary 6. 14. The f-closure of an h-connected set is h-
connected.
Proof: Let g^ = h, the associated closure function of f ,
let g^ be the identity i.p.e. function and let oc^ = fi ^ -
1 in Lemma 6. 13.
oc oc ~Y*i
Lemma 6. 15. If Xis g ^ ^ g^ 2 -connected then X is g^
T 2
-connected for If. = oc . and T - oc _.
11 2 2
oc
Proof: We need merely show that if X is g ^ g^ -connected
then X is g"^ g -connected for IT > oc since g^ and
1 2
g2 play commutative roles and since g^ 0(1 2 is an i.p.e.
-y a _
function. Since g^ 3 8] for "T = oc it follows that
if g^ Xl^ g2X2 ^ for example, then g^ X^ D
g^X^ ^ N and hence X is gj g^ -connected.
242 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
Corollary 6.16. The class of g ^ 1 g^ a ^-connected sets
nr i nr 7
is contained in the class of g ^ 1 g^, L -connected
sets for nf i — oc ^ and T‘ 2 “ oc 2.. In particular every
g*-* -connected set is h- connected where g and hare as¬
sociated i.p.e. and closure functions of a limit function
f.
Theorem 6. 17. If X is a g l 0(1 1 g£ 2 -connected set, then
gj^X and g2^ X are g ^ * g ^ ^ -connected sets for
all -T x i a 1? 1T2 * cx 2 and P x - 1, p^^ 1.
/ nr,
Proof: By Lemma 6. 15, X is g^ g^ L - connected for
all X 2 - oc ^ and ^ 2 ~ °c 2* By Lemma 6.13, then g^lX,
TV T2 4
for example, is g^ g2 - connected for 1 ^ = 'T [ ?
but, since T ^ has no upper bound, we may take 1 - p ^
Theorem 6.17 generalizes extensively the usual theorem
that the closure of a connected set is connected. It should
be noted that if gj or g2 is not the identity that we may have
weaker connectedness conditions than usual. For example,
if gj = g2 is a closure function h then g\g2 - connectedness
is weaker than h-connectedness ; i . e . , every h-connected set
is hh~ connected, moreover, every h-connected set is gh-con-
nected where g is any i. p. e. function.
Theorem 6. 18. Let X be a g-connected set and Y a set such
that X i = X f \ Y; X2 = X-^ Y is a dichotomy of X. Then
if X j and X2 are the (1, g) -limit points of X^ and X2
respectively, (X^ X2 ) (X^ OXj ) N .
Proof: If (XjO X2 )U(X2Ox11)*N then X1P\x| = N and
1955] Hammer, P. C. — General Topology, Symmetry & Convexity 243
X2n xj = N. Note that gX£ = X2U X* , and gXj = X
\jxj and X A X_, = N. But then gXjPl X2 = N and Xx
f“\ gX^ = N which contradicts the g -connectedness of X.
Hence the theorem holds.
Let g be an i. p. e. function. The set [X O (M ~ X) * j U
f(M^ X)/°| X^J is the (1, g)-frontier of X where the super¬
script 1 denotes the (1, g)- limit points of a set. Note that the
(1, g)-frontiers of X and M ^ X coincide .
Corollary 6. 19. A g- connected set which intersects two
complementary sets contains an element of their ( 1 , g)
-frontier .
The introduction of the S -separability and S-connect-
edness was made partially to include separation of sets such
as the slab-wise separations which will be mentioned in t h e
examples. The disadvantage of S- connectedness from a top¬
ological point of view lies in its lack of relationship with the
closure functions. However, since forms of S-separability
are popular in other usages, we have included it. On the
other hand, the g^2 -seParakility concept does fit into our
generalized limit point concepts and provides the possibility
of more detailed analyses of transformations.
Lest it be felt that we have carried out extremes of gen¬
eralization, we may point out that there are conceivably use¬
ful systems in which our particular definitions are embedded
properly. For example, let s . . . , s , t ^ , . . . , t^be a finite
set of separations and let X and Y be termed separated if X
£iid Y are separated according to alldefinitions s i» ,t>, sn, and
to one of 1 1 , . . . , tm. One may of course carry this further.
Another enticing mode for which we have no particular brief
here is to consider trichotomies instead of dichotomies and
consider triplets of sets to be separated, etc.
The theorems in this section are frequently direct gen¬
eralizations of those of Hausdorff and others in Sierpin ski.
However, the definitions we have given we have not seen
elsewhere, except for the special case of h-connectedn e s s .
In particular Theorems 6. 7 and 6.8 we have not seen stated
in similar form, and of course those dealing with propertie s
of gig2 -connectedness specifically we have not seen else¬
where .
244 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
7. Continuity and Homeomorphisms
Before defining continuous transformations we observe
that it is simplest to consider the domain set and range of a
transformation to be the entire spaces. Since we have de¬
fined relativization of closures earlier and since all the¬
orems proved hold by considering a subset to be the space,
we will not here consider any transformations which map a
proper subset of a space into a proper subset of another.
Let Mi and M2 be two spaces and let t be a transform¬
ation associating with each point of Mj a point in M2 so that
every point in M2 is an image of a point in M^. We assume
that fj, gj, hi, and f2, g2> ^2 are functions, associat¬
ed i.p.e. and closure functions in M ^ and M2 respectively.
Then t : M] to M? is said to be continuous if and only if
t(f X)Ch2 (tX) = tXU f'2 (tX) for every X C Mx. That is to
say, t is continuous if and only if the image of the derive d
set of X is contained in the union of the image of X and the
derived set of the image.
The transformation t, M ^ to M^, is strongly continuous
if and only if t(gjX) C g2 (tX); i. e. , if the (ot , fjJ-limi t
points of X are transformed so that orders of limit points
are not increased.
The transformation t,Mi to M2 is strictly continuous if
and only if tg iaXC g£b (*X) where a € Ml, X CMp b = ta
and gia and are the i.p.e, functions corresponding to
the fragmented forms of fi and f2 respectively (cf. section
3).
Theorem 7. 1. The transformation t : Mi to M2 is contin¬
uous if and only if X2C M2, X2 being f-closed implies
that the set Xj, - t ^X2 is f-closed.
Proof: First suppose t is continuous. Then suppose X2is
an f2 -closed subset of M2 and define X 1 = t“*X2. Now
if hjXi^Xi then there is an f 1 -limit point pi of Xi
such that pi € 'X^. Hence, tp^ € 'X2 - ^2X2 which con¬
tradicts our definition of continuity, since pj € f ^ Xi .
Conversely suppose t : Mi to M2 is such thatt~*X2 is
an f^ -closed set if X2 is an f 2 -closed set. Let X CT
Mx. Then XUf^X = l^X and t(XUi\X) = tX IJ
tf \ X. Now the set X2 = tX Uf ' (tX) is f2 -closed,
whence t”^X2 = Xi is f-closed. But Xi = t”^X2^Xand
1955] Hammer, P. C. — General Topology, Symmetry & Convexity 245
hence h^X, and therefore X2D t{h^X) which is e-
qui valent to our definition of continuity of t. Hence, t
is continuous.
Theorem 7.2. Every strictly continuous transformation
is strongly continuous, every strongly continuous trans¬
formation is continuous.
Proof: Since §1 = \J aeMl gia and g2 = U beM;,g2b we have
that strict continuity implies -strong continuity. Since
hi s gi^l and h2 = we have that strong continuity
implies continuity, HereXi andX2 are respective clos¬
ing orders of gj and g£.
Theorem 7.3. Let t ^ : M to and t2 : Mi to M2 he two
transformations which are continuous (strictly, strong¬
ly), then the composition t = t2t \ is a transformation
from M to M2 which is continuous (strictly, strongly).
Proof: We will prove the theorem only for strongly con¬
tinuous transformations (letting f, g,h be respectively
the limit function, associated i.p.e. and closure func¬
tions for M). We have for XC M,t](gX)C g^(t^X) and
t,(gl<t1x)) C. g2(*-2*lx)- But t2gl(t1X)Ct2(t1gX) =t2tx(gX)
whence t£ti = t is a strongly continuous transformation
from M to M2.
Theorem 7.4. Under a continuous transformation t: Ml
to M2, hi -connected sets are transformed into I12 - con¬
nected sets. Under a strongly continuous transforma¬
tion g 1 -connected sets are taken into g2 -connected sets .
Proof: Let Xi be an hi -connected subset of Mi and let
X2 = tX^. Then if Y 1, Y2 is a dichotomy of X2 which is
t^-separated we have h^Y^O Y2 = N2 = Y^Oh2 Y^*
But then t"1(h2Yi)n t“ 1 Y2 = Ni = t~ 1 YiAf ^ Y2. Now
246 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
t” ^2 Y 1 and t" Y2 are f ^-closed sets by Theorem 7. 2
and since f^Y^, t” ^ Y2 clearly form a dichotomy of Xj
we would have Xj is not h ^ -connected. Hence X^ must
be h^ -connected.
Suppose X is a g -connected subset of Mq and Y =
tX* Then if Yi» Y2 is a dichotomy of Y which is g2~ sep¬
arated we would have g2 Y 1 0 Y2 s N2 = Y 1 0 g 2 Y 2 • Now
t-1g2Yl^gl(t"lYl) and t-1(g2Y2)3 gl(t_1Y2). Now
since f^Yi, t" ^ Y2 form a dichotomy of X and since
(t“‘1Yi)nt“1Y2 = Niand r^Ylf! gi(t~l Y2) = Ni we have
that X is not g^ -connected if tX is not g2-connected.
Hence tX is g2 -connected.
It may be observed that since there are fewer g^-con-
nected sets in general than h^-connected sets it is necessary
generally to require stronger continuity to preserve the type .
Theorem 7.5. A necessary and sufficient condition
that a biunique transformation t: to M2 be continu¬
ous is that tfj XCf^tX for all XC M}.
Proof: The sufficiency is obvious since the condition is
stronger than the requirements of our definition. To
prove necessity let p € f ^ X and suppose that tp € ' f^ tX
contrary to conclusion. Then, however, tp € tX \J f 2 tX
since t is continuous, and hence tp is an f2 -isolated
point of tX and hence Y - tXUf^ {tp} is an in¬
closed set and therefore t“^Y i^s f closedby Theorem
7. 1. But since t is biunique t” 1 Y = X ^ { p] and hence
p is not an fq -limit point of X contrary to supposition.
Hence tp € f'z tX and t i\ XC.i'z tX.
Theorem 7.6. A necessary and sufficient condition that
a biunique transformation t : M ^ to M2 be a homeomor-
1955] Hammer, P. C. — General Topology , Symmetry & Convexity 247
phism is that t fj X = f'% tX for all X C .
Proof: The sufficiency follows directly since if Y C M2
and X = t_1Y then t f X = i\ tX or t f' t^Y = i\ Y.i.e.,
t’if2 Y = fjf^Y which gives t“ 1 is continuous also. To
prove necessity since t and f ^ are both continuous we
have that t f^ X = fl, tX from Theorem 7.4,
Theorem 7.7. Necessary and sufficient conditions that a
biunique transformation t, Ml to M2 , be a homeomor-
phism are that tX is f ^ -closed if X if f y -clos e d and
t~^Y is f^ -closed if Y is f2-closed.
Proof: By Theorem 7. 1, the conditions of this Theorem
are necessary and sufficient that t and t “ ^ by continu¬
ous .
It will be observed that our definition of continuity i s
based on our definition of limit point, which then does not
include certain transformations as homeomorphisms which
Sierpinski includes. Theorem 7.7 does not hold inSierpin-
ski's general topology, nor does the sufficiency part of
Theorem 7.1.
Theorem 7.8. A necessary and sufficient condition that
a biunique transformation t, Mi to M2, be strongly con¬
tinuous is that t(g jX ^ X) C g£(tX) ^ tX for every X C
Mi .
Proof: The sufficiency is a direct consequence of the def¬
inition of strong continuity. To prove necess it y let
p € giX X. Now since t is strongly c ont inu ous
tg XX C g£^X and hence tp C g^tX. But if tp €’ g2tX‘~J,tX
then tp € tX and hence since t is biunique p € X contrary
to assumption. Hence tp € g2tX^ tX and t(g^X-^» X)C
g2tX ^ tX.
Theorem 7.9. A necessary and sufficient condition that
a biunique transformation t, Mj to M^, be a strong
homeomorphism is that tg ^X = g2^X for every X d Mi .
Proof: The condition is clearly sufficient that t be strongly
continuous . Also t~* is strongly continuous, for if
248 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
Y C M2 let X = t_1Y and then tg1(t‘1Y) = g2tt'1Y = g2Y
or t*^g2Y = gjt'^Y. The condition is necessary since
by Theorem 7.8 if t is a strong homeornorphism then
t(glX-X) = g^tx ~ tx or tglx = g^tX since g|Xl)X
and g£tX D tX.
We could continue here with a study of other properties
invariant under homeomorphisms and to theorems similar
to the above for strict homeomorphisms. However, since
we expect to extend these homeomorphisms to include alge¬
braic homomorphisms elsewhere, we will not go further
with the discussion now. It is to be observed that the use of
the words is based on the rich vocabulary of topology, but
that continuity is not a suggestive term for the generaliza¬
tion.
8. Examples
A. Geneological Closures:
Let M be a specified set of people. Let C be the class
of all one-person sets where such a person is a parent of a
person in M. Let f associate with each set in C the immed¬
iate offspring of that parent. Then a set X of people is f-
closed if and only if all the direct descendants of each per¬
son in the set (in M) are in the set. The function f is a lim¬
it function.
The set of f-limit points of a set X are all descendants
(in M) of people in X including people in X who are descend¬
ants of others . The set of (1, f) -limit points of X i s com¬
prised of all persons in M who are immediate descendants
of persons in X. The maximum f-closing order of any set
is one less than the maximum number of generations repre¬
sented in M.
A set X is h-connected if and only if it is impossible to
separate X into two parts such that neither has a descendant
of the other in it. For example, two lineages with a c om -
mon descendant are h-connected. Two disjoint sets X and
Y are g-separated if and only if there are no immediate de¬
scendants of persons in X which are in Y and vice versa.
Two disjoint sets X and Y are hh- separated if and only if
there are no common descendants; i.e., hX/HhY = N. Thus,
1955] Hammer , P. C. — General Topology, Symmetry & Convexity 249
two persons who are not related comprise an hh- connected
set if they have a common descendant. For example, hus¬
band and wife form an hh-connected set if and only if they
have a child (in M).
There are no f-perfect sets in this general topology ex¬
cept for the empty set, since the first of a lineage in M is
f-isolated. The f-isolated set of M is composed of all the
persons first in a lineage.
The fragment function fa corresponding to a person a
is defined only for the parents of a. Continuity and homeo-
morphisms imply various types of geneological similarity
between two classes, M \ and M2. The reader may make
applications of the various definitions given.
B. Symmetry;
Let M be the euclidean plane. Let C contain all one
point sets except O where O is the origin of M. Let f asso¬
ciate with each Y € C its reflection through O. Then a set
is f-closed if and only if it is symmetrical with respect to
the origin. The origin O is f-isolated in M. The function
g = h and the maximum f-closing order of a set is at most 1.
The only h-conneCted sets are the null set, one-point sets
and sets comprised of a symmetrical pair of points. Every
f-closed set is f-open since the complement of a symmetri¬
cal set is symmetrical.
The only possible f-isolated point of an f-closed set is
O. If a set is symmetrical and does not contain O then the
set is f-perfect. Since the convergents contain one point,
the f-closure is universally distributive. (This is also true
of the geneological closure. )
The class of f-limit points of any set not containing O
is the f-closure of the set. The class of strong f-limit
points in a set containing no symmetrical pair of points is
empty.
The two disjoint sets X and Y are h-separated if the
reflection of X through O does not intersect Y.
It may be remarked that all forms of symmetry are par¬
ticular instances of f -closures since f-closures contains
the basis of symmetry; i.e.; the presence of a certain part
of a configuration requires another for symmetry.
250 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
C. Convexity:
Let M be the euclidean plane with origin O. Let C b e
the class of all two -point sets and let f associate with each
point pair in C the open line segment between. Then a set
X is f-closed if and only if it is convex. The i.p.e. function
gX contains X and all points on line segments with both end¬
points in X. The maximum f-closing order of a set is 2
which is achieved for three non-collinear points.
The f-isolated points of a set X are its extreme points:
i, e., points not lying interior to any line segment in hX. The
closure h is not distributive since convergent sets contain
two points. The only sets which are f-closed and which
have f-interior points are "essentially” half-spaces or the
entire space.
The half-spaces are both f-open and f-closed. The only
h- connected sets are trivial since every set containing a
pair of points constitutes an h-separable set . The f-perfect-
ing order of an f-closed set is at most 1 since, on removal
of extreme points, the residual set is f-perfect. The set of
points (O, in),(ln,0) is f-dense in M; i.e., the space M
is separable.
The fragment fa is defined for all point pairs in M such
that the open segment between them contains a.
D. Jensen Convexity:
Let M be the plane and let. C be the class of all pairs of
distinct points, let f associate with each the midpoint of the
pair. Then a set X is f-closed if and only if it contains the
midpoint of every pair it contains. The f-closing orders
range from O to to, the first infinite ordinal.
For example, if X is comprised of a pair of points ,
then there are 2n~ 1 (n, f) -limit points of X and the closing
order of X is co . The plane is not separable under Jensen
convexity.
E. Implicative Systems:
Let M be a class of propositions, let C be a class of
subsets of M and let fY, Y € C be a class of propositions im¬
plied by Y but not overlapping with Y. Then X is f-c lo s e d
1955] Hammer, P. C. — General Topology, Symmetry & Convexity 251
if and only if X contains all f -implications of its subsets.
Here, as in the preceding example, the (oc , f) -limit
points make sense since a is now an indication of remote¬
ness of implication; i. e . , if a proposition p is an (oc , f) -lim¬
it point of X then it requires at least oc successive implica¬
tions to reach p. An f-isolated point p of X is now a propo¬
sition independent of all implications of points in hX~{p}.
An f-perfect set is one which is f-closed and in which every
proposition is implied by others in the set.
Two disjoint sets X and Y are h-separated if neither
contains an implication of the other. Two disjoint sets X
and Y are hh-separated if the implications of both do not in¬
tersect. Two disjoint sets X and Y are g-separated if nei¬
ther contains an immediate implication of the other. The
disjoint sets X and Y are gg-separated if their immediate
implications do not overlap.
The fragment fa is defined for the class of all subsets
Y in C such that a € fY. If the sets in C are finite but con¬
tain more than one proposition it follows that h is not distrib¬
utive, Homeomorphisms correspond to implicative paral¬
lelism between systems.
F. Usual Closure:
Let M be the euclidean plane. Let C consist of all con¬
vergent sequences in M which do not contain their limit
points. Let f associate with convergent sequences their lim¬
it points. Then we have the ordinary closure in the plane.
The h-closure is distributive, g = h, the maximum f-p e r -
fecting order may be any denumerable or finite order.
Most of the terms used in this paper come from the top¬
ology of the real number system and the plane. In this case
continuity and strong continuity coincide. However, the hh-
connectedness is a weaker form of connectedness than usual.
Any set in the plane which is dense in a connected set is hh-
cormected and all the theorems concerning g Ig2~ connected
sets apply. Now, if we let g ^ = h and g2 = h2, the closure
function associated with the convex limit function of example
C, then two disjoint sets X and Y are hh2~ separated if and
only if the convex hull of neither intersects the closure of
the other.
Here, also, we may mention a special form of S- c on -
nectedness. Let the set pairs (U, V) contained in S b e all
252 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
pairs of closed non-inter secting half-spaces. Thenforeach
(U,V) there is an open strip (or slab) which is between U
and V. A pair of sets X and Y are S- separated if and only
if they are separated by an open strip between two parallel
lines. In general, we have designated this form of separa¬
tion slab wise separation. This concept is useful in connec¬
tion with additive set functions in some applications we have
made .
Other forms of S-connectednes s may be obtained by
specifying, for example, that U and V be "complementary"
open half-spaces or, say, that U and V range over all pairs
containing a closed circular disk and the exterior of a con¬
centric open circular disk containing the first. In all cases
the theorems concerning S -connectednes s apply.
On the other hand, the separation of interiors of closed
convex bodies by a line is not a proper form of separation
since it leads to no corresponding connectedness, inasmuch
as every closed convex body in the plane is separable.
G. Groups and Closure:
Let M be the elements of a group. Let C consist of all
sets containing each one-point set except the identity and of
all two-point sets where neither point is the identity. Let f
associate with each one -point set in C its inverse and its
square and with each two-point set the two products of the
two elements. Then a subset X of M is f-closed if and only
if it is empty or is a subgroup of M. Then the i.p.e. func¬
tion g adds to a set X the inverse of each element in X and
the products of every pair of elements in X. It is clear that
a biunique homeomorphism from M to another group is a
strict homeomorphism in the sense we have defined. Inter¬
pretations of various modes of connectedness are left to the
reader. This closure is not distributive.
If X is a subgroup of M then one may associate with
each element the left coset with respect to X. Then the only
closed sets are the left cosets.
H. Subclosures:
If M is the euclidean plane then one may specify as con¬
vergent sets certain a subclass of the class of all conver¬
gent sequences. For example, one may require that the
1955] Hammer, P. C. — General Topology, Symmetry & Convexity 253
convergent sequences lie on lines thus obtain the so-called
linear limits. This form of closure has achieved some pop¬
ularity in the study of linear spaces. Since this f-closure in
the plane has more closed sets than the regular closure, the
requirement of h-connectedness is more severe; i.e., every
h-connected set is connected in the planar topology but not
conversely. In this case, a bounded infinite sequence in the
plane may have no limit points. This linear closure is dis¬
tributive. The f-closing order of a set may be greater than
1 even in the planar case— i.e., the i.p.e, function g =£ h.
I. Sub -Convexity:
Let M be the euclidean plane and let C contain all di s-
tinct point pairs lying on either vertical or horizontal lines.
Let f associate with each such pair the open line segment be¬
tween. Sets which satisfy conditions of this sort are met in
integrating around contours. These sets contain the convex
sets as a subclass. We expect to develop a theory of this
form of convexity in detail elsewhere.
9. Interactions Among Closures
Certain combinations of closures are quite standard in
analysis and geometry. Thus one speaks of the closed con¬
vex hull of a set, of symmetrical convex sets, of closed sym¬
metrical convex sets, of circled convex sets and soon. We
here give some preliminary results on the interactions
among closures. We confine ourselves to closure functions
hj, h-2, all defined for all subsets of M.
If hihzX is h2-closed then we say that hz penetrates hi
at X. If hih2X = hzhiX we say that hi and hz commute at
X. We say hz penetrates hi if hz penetrates hi at every
subset X of M and hi and hz are commutative if hi and hz
commute at every X.
Theorem 9. 1. (a) If hi penetrates hz at X and hi penetrates
h3 at hzhiX then hi penetrates hz and I13 at X; i.e., I13
hzhiX is hi-closed. (b) If hi penetrates hz at X then
hzhiXDhihZX.
Proof: (a) By assumption hifh^hiX) = h2hiX and hi(h.3hi
hzh 1 X = h3hihzhiX. But since hihzhiX = hzhiX we
254 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 44
have hih3h2hi X - h3hlh2hi X = h3h2hi X which proves
(a), (b) We have always hjXDX and hence h2hi X 3
h2 X. Now if h2hl X is hl-closed then hih2hi X = h2hl
X3 hlh2X.
Theorem 9.2. Necessary and sufficient conditions that
hi and h2 commute at X are that hi penetrate h2 at X
and h2 penetrate hi at X.
Proof: For the necessity we have hfh2 X = h2hl X which
shows that hih2 X is h2- closed and h2hiX is hl-closed
which gives the penetrations required. The sufficiency
follows from Theorem 9. lb.
For example, in the plane the convex closure pene¬
trates the ordinary closure but not conversely, since a
point and an infinite line not through the point is a closed
set but its convex hull is not closed, whereas the closure of
the convex hull of this set is convex. In a bounded subre¬
gion of the plane convex closure and closure commute. The
symmetric closure of X penetrates the convex but not con¬
versely in general since the symmetric closure of a convex
set is not always convex. Thus, again, symmetric closure
penetrates ordinary closure and convex closure .
Conclusion
In drawing this paper to a close we may mention that
limitations of space and time have kept us from making
more extensive applications and from extending the theory
more completely. For example, the closures in partially
ordered sets discussed by Everett are amenable to the kind
of treatment we have given here . We hope to take up this
extension elsewhere. We intend to make a more thorough¬
going analysis of connectedness and to consider homeomor-
phisms in relation to algebraic concepts . However, we have
given here an adequate development to indicate the range of
applications possible .
We have drawn most heavily upon Sierpinski [V] for
guidance in certain theorems . We have seen no need, for
our purposes , to include the order concept in the definition
of convergent set and hence our treatment is set-theoretic .
It may be noted that our example s failed to include
1955] Hammer, P. C. — General Topology, Symmetry & Convexity 255
any in which the null set is not closed. The usefulness of
this generality, however, may be indicated by the following:
In the example on symmetry we might require that the ori¬
gin be in every f-closed set by defining fN = {o}. In the ex¬
ample concerning subgroups we could require fN - {e } where
e is the identity to avoid obtaining the empty set as a "sub¬
group1'. Generally one may require that all f-closed sets
contain a specified set and this is done by the device indicat¬
ed. Since requiring the null set to be closed would serve no
useful purpose in this paper, economy dictates that we should
not arbitrarily make a useless specialization.
Professor R . H. Bing and Mr. A. W. Wymore helped
with discussions of connectedness and limit points respec¬
tively.
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525.
4. F. Hausdorff, Grundzuge der Mengenlehre (Leipzig,
!9 !4) . — — — __
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