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Y AUTHORITY OF LAW.

WOOD, ST.

TRANSACTIONS

OF THE

WISCONSIN ACADEMY

SCIENCES, ARTS, AND LETTERS.

VOR Ve Sites.

273 352.

PUBLISHED BY AUTHORITY OF LAW.

MADISON, WIE.:

DAVID ATWOOD, STATE PRINTER.

Oe IEG IB IN Sic

PRESIDENT.

Roxtanp D. Irvine, E. M., Ph. D., Professor of Geology, University of

Wisconsin.

VICE PRESIDNT, DEPARTMENT OF SCIENCES.

T. C. CHAMBERLIN, A. M., U.S. Geologist, Director Geological Survey of

Wisconsin.

VICE PRESIDENT, DEPARTMENT OF LETTERS.

WESLEY C. SAWYER, Ph. D., Professor State Normal School, Oshkosh.

SECRETARY.

iE. A. Brree, Ph. D., Professor of Zoology, University of Wisconsin.

LIBRARIAN.

A. O. Wricut, M.A., Secretary Wisconsin State Board of Charities and Re.

form, and Recording Secretary National Conference of

Charities and Corrections.

CURATOR OF MUSEUM.

R. C. HinpDLEy, Professor Racine College.

TREASURER.

Hon. 8. D. Hastinas, Madison.

BIE Or CON i RNS:

DEPARTMENT OF LETTERS.

I. THE ENGLISH COTTAGERS OF THE MIDDLE AGES — by Prof. W.

F’, Allen, State University, Madison ...... ... sie biel wiare evarainletere 1

II. Tae PuritosopHy or History —by Prof. A. O. Wright, Wis-

consin Female College, Fox Lake (now Secretary State

Board of Charities and Reform, Madison) .................. 12

IfI. Lire Insurance, SAvines BANKS, AND THE INDUSTRIAL SITUA-

TION — by Rev. Charles Caverno, Lombard, Ill.............-- 21

IV. DIsTRIBUTION OF PrRoFiITs, A NEw ARRANGEMENT OF THAT

SussEct— by Prof. A. O. Wright, Fox Lake.............-. 38

V. Weattu, CAPITAL AND Crepit—by Prof. J. B. Parkinson,

States Umiversit ype lad ISOMrcricieeresstclerclmteleteleleic ieleliersiais 5.900000 46

VI. Toe Nature snp Funcrions or CrepIT—by Pres. A. L.

Chapin, D. D., Beloit College, Beloit ..............0..----0- 57

VIL. Nature AND THE SUPERNATURAL — by Prof. J. J. Himendorf,

8. T. D., Racine College, Racine.......... aleve eka: oiisisvets) stavereiera’s 66

VIII. First Frencu Foot-Prinis Bryronp THE Lakes — by Prof. J.

XI.

XII.

XIII.

XTV.

DVS uteri la las) eNUACTS OMG ale\arsiclersince ele ere etersisieveineineteloreciereys 85

. THE Puinosopuy or F. H. Jacosnr—by Prof. W. C. Sawyer,

Lawrence University, Appleton (now of the State Normal]

School Oshkosh) Meer ce ierleiciscleteielertreerlereciacteiseterel= 146

THE“ Araé Asyouweva OF SHAKSPERE— by Prof. J. D. But-

espe Tee) evi SOM veyed sGe orc a isisreve ier inleieieiavereieteralelereisiortelecs aise: LOL

DEPARTMENT OF SCIENCES.

A List oF THE CRUSTACEA OF WISCONSIN — by W. F’. Bundy,

M. D., Sauk City (now professor Eclectic Medical College,

(Olniienyao INN Geodauumsosoooapedde Shel sualeeererersiors ae earasrciet ts sect Lae

THE CORALS OF DELAFIELD — by Jra M. Buell, Beloit........ 185

On Some POINTS IN THE GEOLOGY OF THE REGION ABOUT

Brtoir — by @. D. Sweezy, Beloit (now professor in Doane

College, Crete, Neb)...............- Ba rede abe rat kee raccvaieyale séves 194

THE TipEs— by Capt. John Nader, Madison .......++eeeee+e- 207

vi Table of Contents.

XV. ONA PROPOSED SySTEM OF LITHOLOGICAL NOMENCLATURE —

by Prof. T. C. Chamberlain, Ph. D., Beloit College, Beloit;

also State Geologist ....... JagognoasadoDée stolevelstel otelere iio eeaete 234

XVI. MENOBRANCHUS LATERALIS — by P. R. Hoy, MU. D., Racine... 248

XVII. Tue Pirestone oF DeEviw’s Laks, by ‘Hon. #. LE. Woodman,

arab oO jacsiccrere ears essere wc eae cons oie ceisler tonsTolel etefereiele asteau uate 201

XVIII. Tue Larcer Witp ANIMALS THAT HAVE BECOME EXTINCT

In Wisconsin — by P: R. Hoy, M. D., Racine .............. 255

XIX. OBSERVATIONS ON THE RECENT GLACIAL DRIFT OF THE ALPS

—by Prof. T. C. Chamberiain, Beloit, State Geologist....... 258

XX. TEMPERATURE OF PINE, BEAVER AND OKANCHEE LAKES — by

Llizabeth M. Gifford and Geo. W. Peckham, Milwaukee ...... 273

XXI. A DESCRIPTION OF SOME FossiL TRACKS FROM THE POTSDAM

SANDSTONE—Dby Prof. James H. Todd, Beloit College, Beloit. 276

XXII. A Crarrrer on Founpatrons — by Capt. John Nader, Madison 282

XXIII. Primitive ARCHITECTURE IN AMERICA — by Rev. S. D. Pect,

editor American Antiquarian, Clinton ............ ........ 290

ADDENDA.

Proceedings of the Academy from December 27, 1878, to July 5, 1881.. 321

Hibrarians Report awithycataloouer. rer os ceil seistecieciele cre eiciersecieiee 335

Bristof Members ic misictsieeieiscisic cuss eselmneveleisiecouors aces n ste eesteereie atere erelo ne Cen eeereTone 309

DEPARTMENT

LEPITTERS.

DEPARTMENT OF LETTERS.

THE ENGLISH COTTAGERS OF THE MIDDLE AGKS.

By Pror. W. F. ALLEN.

In the statute entitled Hxienita Manerit, enacted in the fourth

year of Edward I. (1276), three classes of tenants of the manor

are enumerated : the libere tenentes or freeholders; the custumarit

or customary tenants; and the coterelli or cottagers. In former

papers I have inquired into the origin of the two first of these

classes, and attempted to show that the customary tenants were

representatives of the primitive village community, and that the

freeholders were of feudal origin. In the present paper I propose

to consider the third class, the cottagers.

The class who, in this document, are called coterelli, are known

by several other names — cofagit, cotmanni, cotarit, coterit, cotlan-

dari. The several manors enumerated in the Gloucester Cartu-

lary use these terms indifferently, while the Domesday of St.

Paul's, in a passage corresponding to that in the Extenta Manern,

uses the word cofagit instead of coterell. The Hxchequer

Domesday has coterit and cotmanni, as well as anew variation,

coscett or coscez, and the Jaws of Henry I. also mention cotseté.

Lastly, the Rectitudines singularum personarum, of the period be-

fore the Norman Conquest, has coiseilan, a form which is repeated

in the consetl’ of the Abingdon Cartulary, in the latter half of the

twelfth century.

Here are ten forms of the same word, evidently having the

same derivation, and apparently the same meaning, Nor is there

any difference discernible in their tenures and services. They

generally hold a messuage and curtilage, that is a cottage with a

yard, or an acre or two of land, and render therefor some trifling

services. Still they occasionally are found with estates of con-

siderable size; as, an entire virgate,! twelve acres,” ten, nine and

1 Domesday of St. Paul’s, p. 5. * Boldon Book, p. 566.

va ;

2 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters. .

so on.! Neither are we entitled to assume an absolute identity in

the several terms, inasmuch as cotarw and coscet? are occasionally

found in the same manor.? To add to the perplexity, Domesday

Book regularly uses a word of entirely different etymology, dor-

dariz, for the class of cottagers, the terms cotarzs, cotmannit and

coscett being only occasionally used, and then being often found

on the same estate with bordariz.

The differences here indicated were no doubt slight and unes-

sential: and at any rate it would be a hopeless task to attempt at

the present day to trace them in detail. Let us return to the three-

fold classification made by the Hxtenta Manerw ; this classification

evidently indicates broad and intelligible distinctions. We will

inquire first into the position of the cottagers of tne thirteenth

century, and then proceed to trace the origin of the class.) We

are here at the start upon firm standing ground. The cottagers

of the thirteenth century are sufficiently well understood: in

order, however, to make their condition intelligible, a brief re-

view of the previous history of the peasantry will be necessary.

Tne peasantry of the Germanic nations were, in the earliest

times, divided into small communities, each occupying a definite

tract of land, called mark, which they owned and cultivated in

common. When they reached a more advanced stage of progress,

which required the ownership of land in severalty, each member

of the community received an equal portion of land, consisting of

house-lot and arable land, with rights of user in the meadows,

pasture and forest, which he held as his own, subject, however, to

the methods of cultivation followed by the community. This

share was called in England, hide, on the continent, mansus. At

first the proprietor of the hide held it as it were in trust for his

family; he could not alienate it, but must transmit it to his heirs.

Soon, however,— at a very early time in England,— he acquired

the right of alienation; and, as a matter of course, the primitive

equality of ownership was speedily succeeded by great inequality.

A few became rich, others were forced to dispose of a part, or

1 Exchequer Domesday, i. f. 128.

%e. g., Carletone in Wiltshire. Id. p. 67.

The English Cotiagers of the Middle Ages. - 3

even the whole, of their land. We have, therefore, rich peasants,

poor peasants, and landless peasants.*

The name given to the village mark in Latin — the language

almost universally used for public decuments in the. middle

ages -—— was villa, and its inhabitants were villant. Now in the

changes in landed property, so long as a man kept his hold upon

his share (hide), or even upon any aliquot portion of it, he was

by right a villanus, a “‘towasman,” and entitled to all the political

and ezonomical privileges which belonged to the community.

Thas, the manor of Sindun’ gives first of this class those who

held half a virgate (i. e., one eighth of a hide, the regular share

having been reduced to this amount by successive subdivision),

then the operari: of ten acres, and then those of five. These three

classes, were the villant proper, or, as they were now called, the

custumari, or customary tenants. They were the higher order

of serfs, bound to labor by an hereditary obligation from which

they could not escape; but having an interest in the soil, also

hereditary, and of which they could not be deprived. Above

them were the freeholders, libere tenentes, also having an interest

in the soil, and held to labor; but an interest and an obligation

resting upon definite and personal contract. But there was a

class below the customary tenants; serfs, like them, held to labor

by an obligatioa which they: did not themselves enter into, and

from which they could not escape, but having no interest in the

soil to compensate for it. They might hold land, even in con-

siderable amount; but it was purely at the. will of the lord. These

were the cottagers. If the customary tenants may be called

villeins reyardant (preedial serfs), the cottagers may be called

villeins in gross (personal serfs), with a status hardly better than

that of slaves proper. Both classes held their lands nominally

“Cat will,” but with the customary tenants the prescriptive rights

of the tenant were. effective against the bare legal right of the

lord. , : eh ty .

It will be noted that there were no slaves in England at this

time (the close of the thirteenth century.) There had been at an

1See, on this point, Thudichum, Gau und Markverfassung, p. 211.

* Domes2ay of St Paul, p. 18.

4 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

earlier time, but they had been gradually emaucipated, and were,

of courze, one element of the class of cottagers. Another element

was the poorer or more shiftless members of the village com-

munity; however low they might sink, so long as they retained,

by prescriptive right, a share in the mark, they were vz/lant, or

customary tenants: if they lost this, and were dependent upon

the lord for grants of land, they were cottagerz, tenants at will.

Personal status and tenure of land are two points of view from

which every class of persons in the middle ages must be regarded.

In treating of the changes in landed property, I have partly antici-

pated the companion topic of personal status. While the hide

was subdivided, and while many members of the community were

losing their share altogether, a parallel process was going on, by

which the entire body of free villagers, vidiani, were transformed

intoserfs. And side by side with this was a process familiar to

all students of social history — the converse process, by which

the slaves were elevated in position and became personally free,

while still held to obligatory labor. The common freemen, by

a process of degradation, and the slaves, by a process of eleva-

tion, met on the common ground of serfdom, and were distin-

guished from one another, not by any difference in personal status,

but by their relation to the land. ‘T’he common freemen, the

villant, were now villeins regardant; the landless freemen and the

slaves were villeins in gross, or serfs proper. For it should be noted

that the distinction made by modern law writers between villeins

regardant and villeins in gross is not recognized by the law writers of

the time, and must be considered as not at all a difference in per-

sonal rights, but in right to the land. Qwuecumgque servus est, says

Fleta,’ cta est servus sicut alius, nec plus nec minus. The higher

class were attached to the soil simply because they had a prescrip-

tive and inalienable right to the soil; the lower class could be

transferred from hand to hand or estate to estate like slaves,

simply because their obiigation to labor was not joined witha

permanent right to a definite estate of land.

Therefore, we have a clue to start with — the two fold origin of

1 Book I. 3. 3.

The English Cottagers of the Middle Ages.

(Oy)

the cottagers. We must look to the slaves as well as to the land-

less freemen, for their source.

For assistance in thisenquiry we must have recourse chiefly to

two documents of the 11th Cent.; the Rectitudines Singularum per-

sonarum, which gives the obligations of three classes of free peas-

ants shortly before the Norman Conques!; and the great or Hx-

chequer Domesday Book, which gives the numbers, on every estate;

of two principal classes, only in a few cases stating the extent of

their tenure and their obligations. Both documents mention

also slaves; but it must be undestood that the “slave” of this period

was rather a serf than a chattel slave. It will be noted that the

passage from Fleta, just cited, uses the word servusat a time (about

A. D. 1300) when chattel slavery had been long abolished.

Our three principal documents therefore give us the following

classification: the Rectitudines singularum personarum, three classes,

Geneat, Cotsetel, and Gebur; Domesday Book, two classes, Villani

and Bordarii: the Hxtenta Manerii, three classes again, Libere

tenentes, Custumarii and Coterelli. Our problem is to reconcile

these differences.

In the first place, it should be remarked that the Libere tenenise

or freeholders, having come into existence since the time of Dom-

esday Book, do not correspond to any one of the earlier classes,

and may therefore be left out of account. In the next place, it

is perfectly well esyablished that the Geneat of the Rectitudines, the

Villant of Domesday Book, and the Custumarw of the Mxtenta

Manerti, are the same class. We have therefore only to determine

the relation of the Coterel/i to the others of these earlier classes;

and especially to explain how it is that Domesday Book has only

one principal class, the Bordarii, where ‘a few years earlier there

were two, the Cotsetel and the (Geburs.

Here I must call to mind the fact to which I directed attention

a short time ago, that the class of Cvterelli had its origin in two

sources — the slaves and the landless freemen. The slaves, there-

fore, of the eleventh century were certainly one source of the cot-

tagers of the thirteenth century; and so, in all probability, were

a part at least of the classes intermediate between the slaves and

the Villani —that is, the Bordarii of .Domesday Book and the

6 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

Cotsetel and Geburs of the Rectitudines. Let us proceed to exam-

ine these three classes.

The essential features of the Wolseilan-riht, according to the Fec-

(itudines, are the following: the Cotsetel is explicitly spoken of as

a freeman, but as not paying a land tax, like the Geneat or Vil-

lanus; his holding is generally five acres, and his regular obliga-

tions are one day’s labor a week. His free status associates him

with the V7/anus, but his obligations — labor instead of money

or produce — appear to show that his tenure is not one of pre-

scription, like that of the full member of the community, but is

at the lord’s will. These features all point to this class as that of

which we are in search — fieemen who have lost their hold upon

the land, and who have received from their lords small and precar-

ious grants. The obligation to labor one day in the week seems

to have been a very common one in England. In analyzing some

years ago the tenants of some English manors at the period of the

Extenta Maneri?, I found a class intermediate between the Custue-

mari and the Coterelli, which it was difficult to attach positively

to either of these classes. These are the Lundinaris or “ Mon-

daysmen,” who had holdings ranging from two to six acres, and

labored one day a week throughout the year. J pointed out this

feature which they had in common with the Coésetel, but did not

attempt at the time to pursue the subject further.

The Geburs are described, in the same document, in terms,

which show that they were not a free class, and were in a rather

harsh condition of serfdom. ‘Their ordinary obligation was two

days a week (besides numerous occasional services), their hold-

ings averaged larger than those of the cotsetel, and they received

stock and seed; but at their death everything they had was the

property of the lord. This last is the clearest mark of serfdom,

and is called mainmorte. :

We pass now to Domesday Book. The names of both the

classes above described are found in Domesday Book, but in very

small number; there are enumerated in all England 1749 cosceta

(a'l in the west of England), 5,054 cotart/, mostly in the south»

a few cotmanni and 64 Geburs, also in the south. Of course it is

impossible that this handful should represent the cottagers as a

The English Cottagers of the Middle Ages. a

eiass. The class of cottagers are the bordarzi, 84,119 in number,

distribute 1 in due proportion in every part of England, and con-

stantly associated with the vilanz, 108,407 in number. Tere we

have evidently the customary tenants and the cottagers. Unfor-

tunately Domesday Book rarely gives any information as to the

obligations of the several classes. We have however, a few items

of information. In the first place the dordarz are regularly asso-

ciated with the villani,* from which it appears that they occupied

the village and not the lord’s demesne. In one case their labor

is put at one day in the week.” And although as arule, the hold-

ings are not given, yet in several manors of the county of

Middlesex they are given in detail; and here we find the bordari:

holding five and six acres apiece; also holdings in common — 6

bordarit of 80 acres, 16 of 2 hides (acres not given), 36 of 3 hides,

4 of 40 acres, and 8 of 1 virgate (or one-fourth of a hide). [rom

these data it follows with certainty that the bordari were an out-

crowth of the village community; that they were originally vil-

lagers like the villant. They would appear also to have held

their lands by prescription and not at will; but this is not a pos-

itive inference, and on other accounts seems hardly probable.

With regard to the cotarv, we learn just about as much as with

regard to the lordarii. We fiad these too associated with the

villanz,* and find them holding four and five acres apiece, or mere

gardens for a shilling each,* or, in common, 8 with 9 acres, 2

with 4 acres, 22 with half a hide, and 46 with a whole hide.

These facts prove that the coturi/ likewise were an outgrowth of

the villaze community, and belonzed properly to the class of

villant. Bat the colard and coscetv are so few in number and so

scittered, that we can iafer very little in regard to them.

1Vol.I,f 4.a; Leminges in Kent; centum et unus villanus cum xvi bor-

dariis habentes lv carucas. f.284c; Colingeham in Nottinghamshire; vii

villani et xx bordarii habentes xiv carucas. f. 350. Tatenai in Lincolnshire;

v villani et ii bordarii arantes v bobus.

2 Vol. I, f. 186. Ewies in Herefordshire. xii bordarii operantes uno die

ebdomeda.

2Vol. I, f. 9.a. Wichehame in Kent. xxxvi villani cum xxxii cotariis

habent ix carucas.

+Vol. I, f.128. Westminster in Middlesex.

8 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Ledlers.

The name bordarius, used in this document and in a few other

ozcasional cases, may assist us toaconclusion. It is a French

term, used by the French officials of William the Conqueror in-

stead of the native English term. In France, the bordarius was

the tenant of a bordaria, a smaller estate attached to a mansus or

hide, upon the outskirts of which it was situated’; the bordarius,

therefore, although not a full member of the community, was an

outgrowth of the community and belonged, by origin, to the class

of villant. He was a cottager, but a cottager of free origin.

The French bordarius, therefore, the occupant of a cottage upon

the estate of another peasant, belonged by his origin to the class

of villani, but did not hold his land by prescriptive right, like

the villant proper, but by spezial grant, lik: the serfs. He was a

cottager, but a cottager of free, not servile, origin. it does not

follow, of course, that the compilers of Domesday Book used

the term strictly in this sense. In all probability it meant to

them simply cotfager, and they applied it without discrimination

to all those English peasants whom this term could properly de-

scribe. It is not surprising that they classed together, under this

name, the coésetel or free cottagers, and the geburs or serfs, seeing

that these classes agreed in occupying cottages with a few acres

attached. It must be remembered that Domesday Book does not,

as a rule, record tenures but classes of men. It was no object to

distinguish between the different classes of cottagers, whether as

to tenure or as to status. And if in a few instances we have

cotartt or cosceti by the side of bordurii, all we are entitled to infer

is that the officials who drew up the report of this particular

manor, noted distinctions which other officials passed over as insig-

nificant; that the distinctions existed generally, but were not

generally put on record. It was not even nezessiry that the bor-

darius should hold any land at all. Domesday Book mentions

one bordarius who, on account of poverty, had nothing, and ten

who had no Jand of their own.

1Lamprecht; Beitriige zur Geschichte des franz6sischen Wirthschaftslebens,

p. 38.

8 Vol. I. f. 177 b., Hatete in Worcestershire. Yo). II, f. 299, Gepeswiz in

8S folk.

The English Cottugers of the Middle Ages. 9

We are therefore entitled to conclude that under the French

name lordarius, Domesday Book includes the two Anglo-Saxon

classes of cofsetel and geburs, two classes which were both, prob-

ably, of free origin, but one of which had sunk into genuine

serfdom, while the other might still be described as free peas-

antry. Two hundred years later, the class of cottagers included

also the now emancipated slaves, all being equally serfs in status,

and equally lacking any interest in the land, beyond that of a

tenure at will.

But the cottagers of free and of servile origin, although agree-

ing in status and in tenure, were nevertheless not wholly identi-

cal. They appear to have differed in the locality of their

residence and tenure. It has been already said that the cottagers

of free origin in the eleventh century, so far as can be traced,

being sprung from the class of villagers, had their residence in

the village’ among the tenants of higher class. Thisis certainly

the case with the French bordarii, and it may be inferred to have

been the case in England. But the slaves, being the personal

property of their lord, had their residenge, not in the village, on

the tenement lands or wéland of the manor, but on the lord’s per-

sonal estate, the demesne or zn/and ; just as, on our southern planta- -

tions, the negro quarters were in the neighborhood of the “ big

house.” When the slaves were emancipated, it was natural that

they should continue to live upon the demesne, occupying cot-

tages and petty holdings just as the older class of cottagers did

upon the tenement lands.” Or if new lands were cleared upon

the waste, they might receive patches of this. At any rate they

would not be in the village with the customary tenants and their

companions.

This probability is converted into a certainty by a few isolated

facts which we meet with in the period between Domesday Book

and the Hrtenta Manerii. The rent-rolls of the end of the 13th

century, the period of the Metenta Manerii, class all the cottagers

1See, for the residence of cottagers in the villages of Germany, von Maurer.

Geschichte der Fronhéfe, Vol. IIT, p. 198.

?Von Maurer, id. p. 311, speaks of colont upon the Hofléndereden (or de-

mesnes.)

10 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Lellers.

together. The status and the tenures had now reached their

fully developed form. But in the earlier rent-rolls we find these

classes clearly distinguised. Thus the Abingdon Cartulary,’

after enumerating the free-holders and customary tenants of the

manor, adds (manor of Boxole): 7m eodem hamel sunt xv cotsell’

ad opus, ete.; and then goes on: fi extracti sunt a dominio, giving

the names of twenty-six petty tenants. A few years later (1222)

is the Domesday of St. Paul’s, edited with Jearning and judgment

by Archdeacon Hale. This contains the rent-rolls of twenty-two

manors; and in nearly every case the roll begins with Js? tenent-

de doninico, to which follows a list of petty holdings upon the

demesne; then come the free-bolders and other tenants. Cotari,

when there are any, are put after the free-holders and customary

tenants, that is, upon the tenement lands. I cannot find any

direct evidence to support the view, in itself shown to be prob-

able, that these tenants in the demesne were the descendants of

slaves. It is noticeable, however, that the handicraftsmen are

generally found here;’ and upon the continent it is an established

fact that the handicraftsmen were of unfree origin; whether it

was so as a rule in England or not, I cannot say.

The same document enables us to make a comparison between

the tenants of the same manor at two different periods which, so

far as it goes, confirms the view here taken. It must be ob-

served that the period between Domesday Book (1086) and the

Domesday of St. Paul’s (1222) was full of convulsions, social as

well as political. During this time the class of free-holders came

int» existence, and the class of slaves went out of existence. It is

difficult, therefore, to trace any clear connection between tke

classes of the peasantry in the two documents. The following

will serve as examples. The manor of Sandun in Middlesex had,

acecrding to Domesday Book,’® 24 villar’, 12 bordarii, 16 cotanti, and

‘Vol. II, p. 301.

* Thus, in the manor of Beauchamp, p. 33, I find textor (tailor), pellépartus

(tanner) faber (smith) carpentaréus (carpenter) and pzctor (painter). So in the

manor of Boxole, given above, there were a tanner and a miller upon the

demesne.

3 Vol. i. f. 136.

The English Cottagers of the Middle Agcs. 11

11 servi. In 1222 there are 24 operarii (corresponding exactly to

the 24 villanz), only 8 coturti, 23 libere tenentes, and 24 tenants of

the demesne, a considerable number of whom are also reckoned

ia the other classes. This would appear to show that the free-

holders originated in cottagers as well as in willané.

In the little manor of Norton, in Essex,’ there were only two

bordart ; in 1222 there were six tenants holding from five to ten

acres apiece. Here it would appear that the lordarii were petty

tenants with no special rank.

The conclusion which we seem entitled to draw, is that the Coi-

selel of the Fectitudines, lumped together with other cottagers in

Domesday book, were nevertheless a quite permanent class, reap-

pearing in feudal times, under the name of Lundinurii, or ** Mon-

day’s men,” as a kind of aristocracy among the cottagers; that the

‘Geburs were, like the cotsetel, of free origin, but lower in condition,

and that they were the principal source of the cottagers upon

the tenement lands; while the cottagers of the demesne and the

cleared lands were in great part the descendants of the slaves

‘of the eleventh century.

UNO leiiesternli ce

12 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters,

THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY.

By Pror. A. O. WricuT.

Within the last century the study of history has taken a new

departure. The materials of history have been sifted more care-

fully, and researches have been made in every direction for new

material. The monuments of Egypt, of Assyria, and of Baby-

lonia have been made,to give up the dead languages buried in

them, and to tell the tale of their forgotten dynasties. The

ancient language and civilization of Hindoostan reaches across

the eastern continent to claim kinship with the sons of Japhet in

the West. Historical and antiquarian societies have sprung up

all over Europe and America to gather every document and

every monument that can furnish material or illustration for

history.

Historians are beginning to pay more attention too, to the grand

forces that move society. History is ceasing to be the annals of

monarchs and the story of battles and is coming to be more and

more the record of the collective life of a nation or of the whole

human race. The scope of history is thus greatly widened.

And, thirdly, there is coming into existence a philosophy of

history which attempts to explain the causes of the greater

movements of mankind. Thus in a history of any nation or

epoch we may reasonably ask for three things, accuracy of detail,

breadth of view, and a presentation of causes and effects, or the

philosophic relation of facts. It is with the last that this paper

will attempt to deal.

There are three great conditions of history. Hach of these

is claimed by one school of historians to be the chief or only

cause of human history. And according as we lay stress on one

or another of these great conditions will our whole interpretation

of history vary from materialism to idealism.

The first great condition of history is found in the physical

characteristics of the earth. Of these the most important is

-climate ; but all the physical conditions that affect commerce agri-

The Philosophy of History. 18

culture or manufactures should be grouped together here- The

chiei of these are climate, fertility of soil, access to the sea or

navigable waters, level or mountainous suiface, and workable

veins of metallic ores. There is a school of historians who insist

that these physical conditions explain all or nearly all the great

movements of history. And one historian of this school has gone

so far as to make climate tho sole cause of our civil war, and to

prophesy therefore that as north and south have different climates

they must always be hostile, and to predict a succession of wars

between them. ‘

The physical conditions of the earth wili doubtless explain

much of its history. The first civilizations of the earth sprang up

in the semi-tropical alluvial valleys of the Nileand the Euphrates,

where the conditions of life are so easy that a dense population

can be supported. ‘The sea coasts have been favorable to enter-

prise, and the mountains to freedom. The tropic and the frigid

zones have nourished indolent savages; the temperate zones have

been the abode of civilized man. Iron or bronze have been the

necessities, and gold and silver the luxuries, that mark the begin-

ning of civilization. Had England remained connected with the

continent in historic as in geologic ages, Henry VIII and Charles

I could have become despots, and Napoleon could have conquered

her. Climate and soil made cotton king, and slavery profitable

enough to be worth fighting for.

But the physical conditions of the earth will not explain every-

thing. The valleys of the Huphrates and the Tigris were once

the seat of empire, why are they so no longer? ‘The same sun

shines on the same soil, watered by the same rivers ; the physical

conditions are the same as when Babylon, or Nineveh or Bagdad

stood in splendor; but other causes are weighing on that fair

land. The creed of Mohammed and the greed of the Turk are

stronger to destroy than climate and soil are to build up. Hng-

Jand and Japan are strangely alike in their physical conditions,

but while Hogland has lived athousand years of healthful pro-

gress, Japan lay in the sleep of feudalism, till awakened by

American cannon. Other causes must be sought for the growth

and decay of nations besides their geography.

14 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letlees.

The second great condition of history is found in the division

of mankind into races, with their various characteristics. Here

again, a school of historians is found to claim the characteristics

of race as the main-spring of history. The Jaws of heredity and

of the survival of the fittest in the stregele for life can be applied

to the history of mankind as well as to the history of birds and

beasts. But in the one case as in the other there is danger in

trying to make these Jaws explain everything. The origin of our

free institutions to-day can be traced in the stubborn hardihood

and love of personal freedom of the German stock from which

we have sprung. The same steady bravery of the Teutonic stock

which won the day at Gettysburg and at Saratoga, changed the

history of Europe also at Waterloo, at the siege of Leyden, at Mor-

garten and at Lutzen. The same love of local freedom, which created

the United States of America, created also the kindred Federation

of Switzerland and the United States of the Netherlands. But why

have a part of the same race in Germany for a thousand years

submitted to petty local despotisms, from which they have but

just emerged? Why did the Arabs sleep in their peninsu'a till

Mohammed came; and what has since become of the old Norse

love of daring adventure? What is the secret of the marvellous

change now going on in Japan? These are questions which his-

tory indeed can answer, but not a history based on race alcne.

The law of heredity can best explain the temperaments, features

and dispositions of mankind. Leading traits of character will be

preserved by nations through every vicissitude of fortune and

every change of faith or clime. The Gaul of Cesar is the French-

man of to day in disposition, but not in institutions, language or

religion. His leading traits have survived the influence of im-

perial and of papal Rome and of the German conquest. The

Turk on the throne is still the Tartar of the steppes in spite of

the Koran on the one hand, and of Hurope on the other. ‘Three

thousand years have not sufficed to change the physical or the

moral traits of the Greek, the Hindoo or the Negro. The law of

race has its limits; but within these it is powerful.

The third great condition or cause of history is found in ideas.

Man is distinguished from all other forms of life on this globe by

The Philosophy of History. 15

his ability to grasp and to carry out an idea. ‘The ideas which

have ruled man may be grouped in four classes.

The most important ideas and the ones which have had most

effect on history, belong to the first class, that of religious ideas.

The history of"modern Hurope would not have been written at all

had it not been for christianity, which recreated civilization. The

great Protestant movement of the sixteenth century has given

birth to Anglo Saxon freedom on both sides the Atlantic, and

has built up a new German Himpire on the rains of the old. And

the events of the past year are opening our eyes to the evil influ-

ence of the faith of Islam upon the destinies of the Orient.

The second class of ideas are the ideas of government. Until

of late the history of the world was the history of its governments.

Monarchy, aristocracy and democracy have all had their cham-

pions and their martyrs. The divine right of kings, the divine

right of nobles and the divine right of majorities to rule, have

each, at times, controlled the destiny of nations, and have been

only less powerful than religious ideas in making history.

The third class of ideas are those concerning the family ; whether

it shall be composed of one man and one woman, with their chil-

dren, or of one man and several women and their children, or of

one woman with several men and their children; whether the

union shall be for life, or at the pleasure of one or of both parties

to the marriage contract ; what shall be the position of the wife in

the household, as a slave or an equal; what shall be the rule of

inheritance for the children ; what shall be the education of the

sons, to the father’s business or to whatever business they are fit-

ted for; and the conceived analogies to the family found in the

clan or in the nation. The history of China or of Turkey cannot

be written without understanding the Chinese or the Turkish idea

of the family. No one ean rightly understand the complete social

and political change in France since the revolution without oye

ing the effect of the Napoleonic law of inheritance.

The fourth class are social causes, such as the tenure of lard,

the condition of the laboring classes, the state of general educa-

tion and of the higher education and the opportunities for rising

in life. No history of the Roman republic can explain its speedy

16° Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Aris, and Letters.

decay without telling of the grasping land monopoly of the sena-

torial ring, and the consequent change of the Italian peasantry

from free farmers to slaves. No history of the new Germany of

Stein and Bismark could fail to tell of Prussian schools. And

the whole history of our own country for the last half century

turns upon the conflict of two systems of labor and two theories

of education.

There are thus three great sets of causes which govern history:

geographical causes, ethnological causes, and ideal causes. In an

individual man we should call these outward circumstances,

hereditary character and purposes of life. If we know these

three things about a man, we know what that man is; and so with

a nation, if we know the outward circumstances in which it is

placed, if we know what sort of hereditary character it has, and

if we know its leading ideas we know its history. Most histo-

rians err either by neglecting these underlying causes of history

entirely, or by attaching far too great importance to some one of

them at the expense of the others. In all ages of the world each

of these causes has had some effect upon history. In the earlier

ages and in all times among uncivilized tribes, geographical’

causes have had much greater power than among civilized nations

to-day. Undoubtedly the differences of climate and locality

worked far more rapidly in the first ages of the world, when men

first divided the earth between them, than they do now. The

whole history of barbarism is a history of adjustment to condi-

tions of nature and the whole history of civilization is a history of

triumph over nature. Obstacles which were insuperable even a

century ago, are now easily overcome. ‘To the barbarians of the

Homeric song, a petty expedition against a small Asiatic city in-

volved more difficulties and consumed as much time as it required

of the later Greeks to conquer the whole Orient.

And as civilization is overcoming geographical difficulties by

intellectual power, so also it is overcoming hereditary difficulties

by moral power. The progress of civilization has been two-fold,

in a material progress of subduing nature, and in a moral pro-

gress of subduing man. The history of government and of reli-

gion is the history of a constant triumph of ideal forces over

The Philosophy of History. 1%

inherited barbarism, and the gradual growth of a hereditary

elvilization.

Thus if we are to study the laws of history rightly, we shall

allow a greater relative power to geographical and to ethnological

causes in the earlier ages than in the later, and among barbarian

than among civilized men. For instance, the time was when civ-

lization was limited to navigable waters, because commerce was

thus limited. And the teaching of Ritter that the proportionate

extent of coast line on the several continents determines the

amount of their civilization is true as far as it goes. But now

commerce no longer depends on coast lines, but boldly explores the

interior of great continents with its arms of iron, and civilization at

once finds a home in Wisconsin as congenial as in the British Isles.

The power of thought has conquered the resistance of nature,

and ideas have reconstructed geography. Again, in the early .

ages of the world tke first great nations were found in a sub-

tropical climate under the isothermal of 70°. As men gained in

skill in resisting the influences of cold on themselves and their

works, the yet greater nations of classical antiquity grew up under

the isothermal of 60°. And now the mental, and therefore the

material power of the world, is found at about the isothermal

of 50°.

Or take the rude barbarians over whom Alfred ruled, or the

pagan savages, their ancestors of a few generations before, and

contrast them with the Englishmen and Americans of to-day, and

see what the combined forces of Christian faith, constitutional

government, and scholarly learning have wrought, and see how

the whole course of our history has been changed and ennobled

by these ideas.

The ideal force in man is a greatly varying force and is capable

of almost infinite growth, while the forces of climate and of race

are nearly constant forces. While these are relatively more im-

portant factors of history at first, the force of ideas is a growing

force which comes to be in modern history by far the most im-

portant. The student of history will err if he regards these forces

as having a constant ratio to one another, and neglects to note the

growing power of ideas.

18 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

It would be a fascinating subject of inquiry to ask what are

the relations to one another of the ideas that have ruled the

world, and the relative importance of each; but the limits of this -

essay forbid me to enter on that subject.

The three great conditions or causes of history, which we have

thus far considered, are constant causes always at work. The in-

fluence of any one of them may be mo»re or less in different ages

or countries, but it is always something. There are other causes

in history, which are occasional and temporary in their character,

but which sometimes have great weight, and turn the course of

‘history to a certain extent. But because they are occasional and

transitory their effects are far less than these constant forces of

which we have spoken.

There is, first, the influence of nations on one another. Man-

kind in past ages have been uniformly so selfish and narrow and

-eruel, as to think that one nation can only be happy and pros-

perous at the expense of other nations. The arts of war have had

the honor-and the service which rightfully belongs to the arts of

peace. The hi-tory of the relations of nations has been a record

‘of. war, of conquest and of oppression. And, therefore, the de-

cisive battles of the world are of interest to the student of his-

tory. Sometimes their results were a foregone conclusion, as when

the training of Prussia in schvol and camp was matched with the

dJgnorance of Austria on the field of Sadowa, or when Philip

planned and Alexander carried out the first united effort of

Greeks to conquer the effete Persian despotism. Sometimes

they are decided by that class of providences which men call

chance, as when the fire at Moscow broke the power of Na-

poleon, or the storm shattered the pride of the Armada. And

not only the decisive contests, but the indecisive ones a!so have

had great and varied effects upon the course of history. Of the

-Thirty Years’ War, it is not enough to say that it resulted in a

drawn battle between Protestantism and Catholicism ; history

‘must note also that it put back the progress of Germany two

centuries, and made her for that time a mere “geographical

expression.”

The Crusades directly accomplished nothing; but indirectly

The Philosophy of History. ~ 19

they made barbarian Christendom acquainted with the civilization

of Islam, and gave life to the germs of modern freedom in the

free cities of Hurope. And the wearisome and seemingly sense-

less wars of modern Hurope to preserve “‘ the balance of power,”

have helped to nourish that competition of nations in the arts of

peace as well as war, which forms our best guarantee for a con-

stant progress of civilization.

The influence of greatmen, too, should not be forgotten. That

influence is often overrated. Of the heroes of history, many are

sham heroes, followers, not leaders, who have made a great noise

in the world, but have not perceptibly changed the course of his-

tory; and every great man must bein great degree the repre-

sentative of his age, and know how to follow in order that he

may lead. Yet, after every allowance has heen made, there are

certain great men, who have led their times and who have really

made history. Such men as Cromwell, Richelieu, Pitt, Napoleon,

Bismark, have made the history of modern Hurope read in quite

a different way, from that in which it would have read had they

not helped to make it.

But above all these second causes, stands the first great cause

of all history. If we believe that there is a God, we must believe

that he has a plan in his government of the world. And if we

believe this, history to us ceases to be the result of the conflict of

blind physical forces, or the record of trials of strength between

contending ideas. A regular purpose is seen to run through the

providences of history. Some great idea is being unfolded in

scene after scene of the great drama we are playing God's re-

demptive government of the world, is seen in the political sphere

in the progress of liberty ; in the social sphere in the progress of

civilization ; in the scientific sphere in the progress of knowledge,

and in the religious sphere in the progress of christianity.

To understand history then we must recognize the reign of law

there — physical laws, that set the limit of climate and soil and

commerce, and thus limit the habits of man, and so modify his

character — physiological laws that keep up race peculiarities and

thus produce and limit habits and through habits character —

psychological laws that raise man above the level of the brute by

20 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

his teachability, and by his ability to conceive and to carry out

far-reaching purposes, and finally the influence of a higher power

upon the whole race. History is not a fortuitous sequence of

events. It is subject to law, and is the working out of a plan in

the Divine mind.

Says Bunsen, “To write the history of a nation is to recom-

pose a canto in that great epic or dramatic poem, of which God

ts the poet, man the hero, and the historian the prophetical

mterpreter.”’ .

Life Insurance, Savings Banks, Hle. 21

LIFE INSURANCE, SAVINGS BANKS, AND THE

INDUSTRIAL SITUATION.

By C. CAVERNO, Lomparp, Iu.

Having occasion recently to borrow five hundred dollars, I ap-

p'ied for a loan to one of our successful life insurance companies,

which bas amassed assets amounting to many millions of dollars.

I was informed that, whatever the security I might offer, the rules

of the company forbade a loan for so small a sum.

Now that the regulation of the company was not wise, for its

own convenience aud protection, and for the interest of all those,

myself included, for whom it was acting as trustee, I do not for a

moment maintain. But this transaction representsa state of affairs

to which I should like to call attention. We may find by inves-

tigation upon it some clue to the monetary stringency of the

times — possibly some explanation of the malign aspect of the

labor horizon.

In common with, say, forty thousand other men, I had been

paying to this com pany small sums of money for a long series of

years. Yet when I, orany oneof my forty thousand fellow policy

holders, wanted a loan for less than a thousand dollars, no matter

what evidence we might give of financial soundness to the extent

of the money desired, we must look elsewhere for it.

The funds of this company, as of all other companies, are

largely made up from the contributions of the poorer class of

young men— young men who are struggling for a competence,

and who have taken out one or a few thousand dollars of life in-

surance, to secure creditors of whom they have borrowed small

sums, or to tide a wife and children over the shoal of poverty in

the event of death.

Now whatever the intent of life insurance may be, and how-

ever excellently it may serve certain purposes, yet here is a state

of facts inviting reflection not only from the large army of policy

holders in the United States, but from any one who will try to

22 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

vavel intelligently the complications of our industrial condition.

The men of humbler means, in putting their little savings into

life insurance, have been aggregating vast sums with which large

capitalists might operate, but from which they themselves could

not get a cent for their lesser and, we shall maintain, equaliy safe

enterprises.

The capitalists not having legitimate enterprises in which to

put the larger sums which the insurance companies have placed

at their control, have become speculators, have lost their ven-'

tures, and swamped the insurance companies loaded with bogus,

insufficient or depreciated securities; and the insured and his

money and insurance have been forever parted.

The working masses must reflect that the plethoric millions,

which they boast of as constituting the assets of their favorite

company, are so much money collected from themselves and put

beyond the possibility of their own manipulation. More than a

billion of dollars within a generation have been gathered from

all quarters of the country; from all pursuits and occupations;

from farm and country village, and massed for use in the large

cities.

If this enormous aggregate were distributed to, or could be

‘handled by, the people from whom it came, financial relief would

at once be widely felt. The wheels of the humbler enterprises

would be speedily oiled. When it becomes possible for them to

secure accommodations, we shall start anew in industrial prosper-

ity, and out of the sum of small movements we shall reach the

possibility of great ones without peril.

Tt is in industry as in nature — you cannot have rivers without

rills.

The facts are the same with reference t» savings banks. They’

may serve the poorer classes well in some respects, but in others,

and they are important ones too, they are an injury. They may

help each individual to save his own, but they hinder each indi-

vidual from being helped with the little surpluses of his veigubor.

It is easy enough to deposit five dollars in a savings bank, but no

poor man can get an accommodation of five dollars /rom a savings

bank.

Life Tasurance, Saviugs Banks, Etc. 23

The man who loans the bank a small sum is welcomed. The

man who wants to hire a small sum is recommended to the pawn

broker.

The aggregate sum in a savings bank is just so much money

removed from the possibility of use among the poor and handed

over to the rich to help them widen the distance already separat-

ing the poor and the rich. It is so much contribution to specula-

tion under whose influence the value of wages is uniformly

depressed as against the commodities the laborer needs to buy.

It is easy enough to see the road over which the savings banks

have gone to the wide-spread ruin which is their recent history.

Many littles have made much; and the bank officers have

found themselves in position to enter into operations to which

wild times and greedy ambition invite.

Before any war of labor against capital, there has been a war of

capital against capital — capital bidding against itself for the sup-

posed profits of great enterprises.

If the best of these great enterprises could not be secured the

next best must be and soon. The best has proved to be none

too good, and the rest it is useless to try to characterize.

The poor in putting their surpluses into savings banks, have

simply been standing idly by while capital has been employing their

earnings in this interesting game of outwitting itself and them.

A savings bank for the poor is a great “‘ How not to do it.”

Men of small means need accommodations as well as those en-

gaged in larger enterprises.

If an institution is for the benefit of the poorer classes, they

ought to have a chance to get something out of it as well as to

put something into it. This want a savings bank, if managed

with ever so good intent, cannot in practice meet.

A radical fault io the savings bank system is that it is an at-

tempt to relieve the poor from the necessity of taking care of their

own funds —from the exercise of their own brains upon their

own finances. ‘The system promises to take care of the poor when

they should be taught to take care of themselves. It prevents

the poor from using what the naturalist would call the providen-

tial instinct.

24. Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

The good savings banks accomplish is very much over esti-

mated.

The statistics of amounts deposited are often taken as an ex-

hibit of savings which would not otherwise be made.

The probability is that almost all that ever appears on the

books of a savings bank would have existed as savings, only it

would be loaned ont in such ways that no statistician could

reach it.

A thing that will astonish you, as you become acquainted with

the depositors in a broken savings bank, is not the number of

imbeciles that have been ruined, but the number of intelligent,

capable, saving people that have been duped. Some of us can

remember a generation of factory-girls who made close savings

when no savings banks were within their reach.

The first spare money that came into the New Hampshire town

in which I was raised, was the savings of our factory-girls. Al-

most every home took on a new appearance from the surpluses

sent back by the girls at work in the factory. When fathers and

mothers got in a pinch for money to keep a boy or girl at school,

the first resort was to the savings of the factory-girls.

These young women were their own bankers. They did not

ask any favors of savings banks. They found out to whom it

was safe to loan and to whom if was not. They knew whether a

man who sought to borrow their earnings had a mortgage on his

farmn or a chattel mortgage on his stock, and, if so, for how much

and to whom. Some of these women remaining single and man-

aging their own funds came to possess the large fortunes of their

locality. .

Now what a savings bank would have done for these factory

girls would simply have been to make them babes in finance

instead of self-sufficing bankers.

It would have led them to surrender to others an intellectual ex-

ercise in the highest degree profitable to themselves. Their earn-

ings would have gone into a vast aggregate to be swallowed up

by a kite-flying banker in the ‘‘down east” speculation which did

ruin somany venturesome capitalists; and the clap boards and

shingles would have rattled in the wind on the old houses which

Tnje Insurance, Savings Banks, Hte. 25

were spruced up, by their thrift, with white paint and green

blinds.

- If savings banks teach people to save (which is very doubt-

ful), they still are an evil in that they paralyze the very faculty

we most need to cultivate, and that is the ability to manage savings.

When representatives from half the families of a great city

abandon the use of their own intellect by delegating to otbers

(and these others, all told, numbering no more than a score)

problems they themselves ought to sulve, they ought not to be

greatly surprised if the end of the transaction is catastrophe.

There are moral evils which demand consideration. The moral

element plays an important part in finance. And by moral or

morals in this discussion I refer to general intent, purpose, quality

of life.

We substantially tell the poor by the savings bank system that

they need take no care, on the score of morals, relative to their

finances. The bank stands as a moral insurance company and

takes the risk in that department. We say the difficulty of the

times is want of confidence. But that want of confidence arises

fully as much from fear of the moral meaning of men as from

dis'rust of their intellectual ability or executive energy.

Whom to trust is the great question, and the ictus of it falls on

the moral realm. But morality is strictly an individual matter.

You cannot create a moral corporation.

Yet respectably intelligent people, by tens of thousands, have

acted as though they supposed this had been done. They have

gone like birds to the snare of the fowler to put their earnings in

a savings bank, unsuspecting and without inquisition as to the

morals of the men who were to handle their funds. A bank was

a bank, and a bank was safe —a savings bank was safety itself come

down to dwell among men, incarnated and apotheosized.

When you come to consider the question of safety it will be

found that you cannot solve that matter until you have resolved

moral elemerts. There the basis of safety will be found to rest

in the good sense and honesty of the individual man —a man who

can explain himself and his whole financial situation to the lender

of money.

26 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

If banks are safe, it is because they are officered by such men.

It is better to put on each individual the burden of finding out

this honest man, in order to deal with him, than it is to delegate

the search.

There are no safer sums than the majority of srrall loans, such

as are made from man to man in the processes of small enterprises.

The moral element comes to the front in such cases. There is

an element of personal faith in them worth more than any mere

pride of financial honor that rules on ‘change—more secure, pro

tanto than the property values of the greater capitalists.

When men have been trained to find an honest and capable

individual, they may be expected to be able to find corporations

of similar character, if there is advantage in dealing with corpora-

tions. But to create corporations with an implied understanding

that by them the poor are to be relieved from the exercise of

moral providence, is an ethical blunder on its face, and we might

have expected from it just whet the history of savings banks in

this country shows, failure distinguished, conspicuous.

But there is a moral fault lying behind the one discussed. Now

that we have had so many disasters with savings banks, every

body has fallen to work to devise some doutle-sure, iron-clad,

adamant-bolted system of safety for the poorer classes.

We might pause on our way to ask who the poor are for whom

we are to make such certain provision.

Where is the dividing line between the poor and the rich?

Perhaps it is where the insurance companies draw it so that a

man who cannot swell his wants to upwards of a thousand dollars,

sball be regarded “ hors dz combat financier.”

We in Illinois have passed a statute that no savings bank shall

receive on deposit more than four thousand dvllars from one

individual.

Society then to compensate a man for his inability to borrow,

will step in and insure the safety of his loans to these amounts.

Why is it not the business of society to help a poor man _bor-

row as well as to help him to lend ?

But the moral question comes up: is the selfishness of the

poor to be insured ?

Infe Insurance, Savings Banks, Kite. Pali

We are pretty careful to teach the rich that they are to regard

themselves as stewards, and sometimes to take a little risk to help

strugeling worth upon its feet.

How far down the scale shall we come in pressing this duty?

If a man has five thousand dollars to loan shall he have the

moral responsibility of helpfulness loaded on him, while he who

has five dollars only to lend shall think only of his own safety ?

The truth is, the poor can help the poor as well as the rich, or

the rich the poor, and they ought so tu help one another.

The men of bumble means ought not to be relieved from the

responsibility of helping their fellows in the struggle for exist-

ence as they have opportunity.

The poor are on the war path against capital. What have they

done with their own little surpluses? The chances are that in

the scramble for safety they have shut their hands and their

hearts against some humble enterprise, which might bave been

saved from ruin, in order that their little sums might further in-'

flate the balloon of some rascal who ostentatiously paraded him-

self as a great capitalist.

We are wondering when ‘easy times” are to come again.

They ought not and probably will not recur till ‘judgment

begins at the house of God ;”” till the poor begin to be willing to

help the poor; till they cease to regard safety to themselves as the

ultimate good; till they are inspired to help others as well as to

protect themselves.

When the poor have canonized selfishness by looking only for

the safety of their own means, is it any wonder that a selfishness

of broader grasp has confiscated ail they have put in its posses-

sion? The game has been, ‘‘ keep what you have and catch what

you can,” and at that the dozen directors have beaten the forty

thousand depositors.

Life insurance takes its place in the savings bank system, and

in the same way in respect to it the people have gone crazy.

The legitimacy of life insurance, under certain exigencies, and

within certain rational limi's, I should not wish to deny. I should

even want to assert it. But the claim has been made that life in-

surance was the best form in which men could lay up property ;

28 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

and thousands and tens of thousands of our young men, abdicat-

ing their own financial skill, have been cramping themselves and

rendering themselves useless to everybody and everything in their

own day and vicinity by carrying large policies on their lives.

The aggregated premiums have constituted vast sums for which

the directors of the company cou!d not or would not find safe in-

vestment, and so we have had the recent history of insurance, and

the end is not yet.

There is absurdity on the face of the matter that the directors

of an insurance company can make and keep fortunes for forty or

fifty thousand families. Propitious cireumstances in singular in-

stances may accomplish prodigies in this direction. But if that

style of fortune making can be long and widely carried on with

success, then most men were made in vain; manis a botch, and it

is idle to reason about him or his affairs.

Well, this system of delegating to others what intellectually

and morally pertains to ourselves, having failed on the old plans,

the air is full of new schems. The only one which we can notice

is the one which puts the national government into the breach.

The secretary of the treasury proposes a subdivision of the in-

terest-bearing national debt minutely enough to put it into the

power of the poor to utilize it asa savings bank system. That,

for its own purposes, the government did not long ago do this is

a wonder. But for the poor it is simply a proposition to tie the

times up tighter; to take another twist on the screw of constric-

tion under which the poorer classes already groan.

The result will be to collect all the little rills and send them

just where all the greater streams have gone, to swell the vast

amounts locked up in U. S. bonds, insurance assets, securities and

stocks of all sorts— amounts removed partially or entirely from

participation in the living enterprises by which society is sup-

ported and out of which wages are paid. It may be best under

our present circumstances to adopt the plan. But let us clearly

understand that the policy is a make-shift any way. Suppose, as

all honest men mean it shall, the government sets the high exam-

ple of paying its debts, what will become of this system of sav-

ings banks? Must the government keep in debt in order to main-

Life Insurance, Savings Banks, Htc. 20

tain it? Then again, the very last thing we want to do is to add

to the force of the feeling among the poor that the government is

to take care of them. Hven a government system of savings

banks, in the long run, will be no kindness to the poor.

We are drifting all tuo rapidly to the notion that the goy-

ernment is to take care of usail. Mere is even a religious news-

paper of some note, advocating the idea that since we have lost

faith in men because of bankruptcies and failures, we must now

put the nation where before private enterprise stood. The poor,

this journal says, will trust the nation as employer and pay-

master.

Ilas not all this been tried over and over again to the over-

throw of the nation that tried it—its rich and poor together?

Rome stood in the gap and found corn for its people till the Goth

came and ‘‘ destroyed them all;” and that just because he was up

to the problem of providing for himself and the Romans were not.

‘Lost faith in men? ’’ why we have not put faith in men; that is

just the thing we have been tryiug to avoid. We have been

seeking safety on a property basis only, and have made no ac-

count of faith in men; and the men whom we have entrusted

with our funds have known it, and have exhibited the same heed-

lessness respecting moral considerations we ourselves have shown.

We have lost our wits as to where the problem of industrial

reconstruction is to begin. We are looking for it to begin at the

top instead of the bottom; looking for it to begin where we left

off, instead of starting anew.

We were looxiog for wars in foreign lands to create a demand

for our products. Thank God, the European war last past proved

that resource a broken staff !

We are looking for an era of railroad making to sprirg up

again. But that era will not come again, as a private enterprise,

till we have earned, from bottom dollar to top, the money to put

into such kind of expenditure.

We are looking for the government to start a great system of

internal improvements; to build the North and South Pacific

railroads; to embank the Mississippi river ; to dig a ship canal

around the lakes or through the heart of the country.

30 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

By engaging in such enterprises, in the present condition of

things, the government would simply break its own back, and

take the burden off the back of nobody.

That is not the road to easy times. We shall strike that road

when every man, rich or poor, will look abovt him, and try to

put in practice in his own neighborhood some very old and hum-

ble wisdom, “To do good and communicate forget not.” Then,

like Bunyan’s pilgrims in the bogs of the enchanted ground, we

may ‘‘make a shift to wag along.”

To this line of argument the reply may be made: The divi-

sion of labor and the combinations of capital resulting in our

large system of industry, have made the system of small savings

and their management by individuals, as well as the system of

small industries, no longer practicable.

It is said that as the factory has superseded the distaff and

loom of our grandmothers—the railroad, the postman, the ox

cart and the horse waggon—the reaper, the cradle and the

sickle — so the bank and the insurance company have put an end

to the feasibility of individual manipulation of money. This

will lead us to take a look over the manner of our industrial con-

dition. It is true we have very largely superseded the individual

by the corporation — the man by machinery.

But the question will recur, after all, how much we have made

by the process.

Somehow in spite of our division of labor and combination of

capital we are all at the stand still. There is a hitch in affairs

evident enough notwithstanding all our power to mass men and

money.

There is a limit to the Fes of combination, and the

question I raise is, whether we have not in a great many things,

reached and gone far beyond that limit. The question I raise is,

whether our way out of our present complications is not, not by

crowding ahead along the lines of combination on which we have

been operating, but by taking the back track and paying more

attention to the individual and less to the corporation — encour-

aging enterprises of individual and local character rather than

those which attempt to do the world’s business in the gross.

Infe Insurance, Savings Banks, Etc. ol

If a colonel can manage a regiment so splendidly, what would

he not do with a million of men? Very likely lead them lke

sheep to the slaughter.

If a drive wheel of so much weight and diameter would d» so

much work, what would a drive wheel of a thousand times its

weight and diameter do? Fly to pieces.

We have been massing men in the industries till the power of

our generalship is exhausted, and your industrial army is breaking

up into Mollie Maguires and tramps.

We have made our drive wheels so large that they are flying to

pieces of their own momentum.

When coal and iron mining can be carried on only a few months

in a year, and then at a rate of wages that would not be very en-

ticing to a gopher, it is evident that capital in that business has

passed the limits of its own safe management.

The same thing is evident, too, when the spindles and shuttles

of our factories stand idle half a year, and are only operated the

rest of the time by women and children at rates of wages that

ean scarcely support life for the time being.

Under such circumstances the sceptre of ability profitably to

manage large masses of men has passed from the hands of capital,

and the sooner that fact is acknowiedged and acted on the better

it will be for it and for civilization.

So when every one of the savings banks of a great city goes

by the board, it is useless to talk about. the profitab!eness of gath-

ering up small savings and massing them that they may figure in

the combinations of capital. ‘“Suum cuique” would certainly

work more satisfactorily than that.

And when wrecking and scaling are the order of the day in in-

surance, it is about time to take notice that combination in that

way has passed feasable limits.

It is a pretty tough thing after all to abolish the cedivainal:

and we are not so near it as we thought we were with our great

process of combination. And all our financial and industrial dis-

tress will pay for itself, when once that fact is seen and befitting

action taken.

There are possibilities in man beyond any possibilities in

machinery.

o2 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and. Letters.

Notwithstanding all the genius that has been expended on the

sewing machine, hand sewing is still the most popular. ' The deft

hand has still the advantage in the struggle for existence.

There are machines to sew and peg boots, but the men are few

who will not willingly pay more to have the foot measured and a

fit made by a journeyman as of old.. And the journeyman who

can meet this want has good prospect of daily bread —a better

prospect than the man who tends a machine. __

Notwithstanding the perfection to which the processes-of the

reaper have been brought you can find successful farmers who will

testify that forty acres of grain are more cheaply secured with the

cradle than with the reaper — consideration being had to: the

amount of money you must put in a reaper, its interest, and the

cost of repair. |

The reaper has the advantage on the larger tract. But that

larger tract calls for broad generalship, and the tendency of our

development must be toward its subdivision.

The Hon. Hugh McCulloch called attention the other day to

the Gwynn farm in California. It has thirty-six thousand acres

in wheat, which is cultivated and secured, we may say, entirely

by machinery.

But the ability to manage thirty-six thousand acres of wheat

with whatever help from machinery, will be as rare as the success

of Choate and Webster at the bar, or of Beecher in the pulpit.

Agricultural machinery has altered man’s relations to the mar-

kets, not essentially to nature. It has made it possible for skillful

generals to make large fortunes from farming. But since “ Adam

delved and Eve y-span” it has been possible for a man with the

rudest implements to make a living from a few acres of ground,

and, will be in spite of all machinery, till men “shall hunger no

more.”

This is society’s answer to the tramp.

This fact casts light on the inevitable redistribution of popula-

tion between city and country — on the rearrangement of industry

between manufacture and trade, and agriculture; and on com-

parative property values.

~It is true that in this light the prospects for wealth do not

glitter. But we are likely for the next twenty years to talk

Life Insurance, Savings Banks, Eic. 33

more of making a living and less of making a fortune, and

society will be the healthier for it.

One would think that the combination of Aa might secure

the monopoly of the cutlery market — that it would be impos-

sible for a man without capital to maintain himself against

Sheffield and Meriden and Shelburne Falls; yet F. A. Seaver and

son of Lake Mills, Jefferson County, in this state, carrying their

steel and wares back and forth over-land seven or fourteen miles,

with next to nothing for capital, can make a living, and havea

nice littie margin to spare, on the single article of butcher knives.

The reason is because they bring to every piece that leaves their

hands an amount of personal care and skill that cannot be

secured in the great establishment:-.

Within six monthsa tinner has come to the suburb of Chicago

in which I reside —the last piace where you would have said

such an artisan could get a living —and has been more than busy

every day since his arrival. Personal facileness in his art is the

secret of bis success.

Mass capital and lose geniusin manipulation is the rule.

The civilization that depends on massing its capital and is not

alert to foster native talent, sporadic in its appearance as it may

be, goes to the wall.

It will take only a little more loading cloth with starch, earths,

gums and dyes, on the part of the factories to make it profitable

to bring the old hand looms out of the garret to make cloth once

more that would go from year to year, if not from generation to

generation.

Capital, in its combinations, has pushed out so far in many

directions that it can sustain itself only by fraud, and fraud is an

inverted pyramid.

When ninety-four per cent. by weight of silk is dye to six per

cent. of fibre, it will become profitable and popular to wear hand-

made cloths instead of such silks; and the process of making

them will be as fashionable as worsted work, perhaps even as

fashionable as painting in water-colors.

I believe the remedy of our present industrial stagnation is to

be found in just the opposite direction from that we have been

34 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

pursuing. Instead of trying tomake great combinations in which

the care shall be loaded on a few individuals, we shall go back to

our local enterprises and put in some care for them. Instead of

trying to find some Rothschild —shall I say Jay Cook & Co.,

Duncan, Sherman & Co., Ralston, Winslow, Spencer, Tappan,

some treasurer of « Fall River manuficturing company, or other

of “the noble army” of huge bankrupts, innocent or malicious,

whose debris, or the plentiful lack thereof, lie ground us “ thick

as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks in Vallombrosa ;” — to

take care of our funds, we shall see if we real'y cannot trust our

neighbor and help some struggling enterprise in our own village.

It is said that small enterprises are unsafe and go to the wall

soonest. This is partially true and partia'ly false —and when it

is true it is not necessarily true. Ii will take a great many of

these small failures to aggregate the amount lost in banking, in-

surance, by treasurers of companies and corporations, and officers

of railroads.

When it comes to loss it is just as comfortable to reflect that

you have tried to. help some humble affair as that you have

gilded the hegira of some of the great financiers.

Since the dawn of history there has been a contest to secure

the definition of political rights. That contest is pretty much

ended in civil'zed nations. The overthrow of slavery and serf-

dom demonstrates the basis on which political rights must here-

after rest. But while political rights are taking their final form,

industrial rights are still in a nebulous condition. We are in the

latter about at the point in the former of the secession of the

plebs from the patricians.

We have yet all the weary way from Mons Sacer down, to travel.

Do you think, Mr. President, that we are seeing the beginning

of the end in the Jabor agitation? I tell you, nay, we are only

seeing the beginning of the beginning.

There will yet be a readjus!ment of values as radically differ-

ent from any thing that now prevaiis as steam transit from the

footman.

Take a yard of cotton cloth, if you please, and reason about it

a little.

(Ji)

Life Insurance, Savings Banks, Kc.

There will be no quiet in the industrial situation till the price

of a yard of cotton cloth approximates to that of a bushel of corn,

perhaps of a bushel of wheat; unless utterly undreamed of inven-

tions and conditions are worked to modify the labor of its pro-

duction.

Though we have given political freedom to the slave, we have

not yet touched his zrdzvidual condition.

The price of the production of cotton is still at a point which

represents the absolute chattelhood of labor. That will not stand.

Jn the manufacture of cotton we are working on an inversion of

the family relation, and that will not stand.

The condition of no great manufacturing interest will be stable

that rests on the labor of women and children.

The cotton cloth finds its way to market over railways.

Last summer the transportation business was brought to a sud-

den halt, the operatives said, because they could not support

families on their wages. Blind and foolish these operatives were ;

but thousands of men do not enact blind folly without the com-

pulsion of some master grievance.

This is certain ——no men are more closely worked and more

closely paid than railway operatives.

The remedy against the troubles of last summer was in promi-

nent quarters maintained to be the employment of none but

unmarried men.

Now look at the condition of things revealed by a yard of cot-

ton cloth. Here are three great departments of industry — origi-

nal production, manufacture, and distribution — which are carried

on, or sought to be carried on, in flat violation of the family rela-

tion or in indifference to it. Yet we are all agoe with wonder to

know where communism comes from. Its origin may be sus-

pected not to be altogether due to the outcropping of original sin

in the laboring man.

Asif we had not degradation enough in our own labor, we are

invited by some capitalists to put labor down to the level of the

Chinese system.

If there is any one gauge indicating the superiority of our civ-

ilization over that of the Chinese, it is the cost of supporting

36 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

women and children. The Chinese works so cheaply because he

expends next to nothing in the support of wife and child. I be-

Heve it is understood that most of the women who have accom-

panied our cheap Chinese laborers to this country are not in the

marriage relation. That is the one main reason of the cheapness

of Chinese labor.

The cost of the Chinese wife is at the rate of the simple sup-

port of the animal woman. As between the wisdom of the hood-

lum and that wisdom which would solve the labor problem by

rernanding woman to the position she holds among the Chinese

emigrants, commend us to the former; it is not so earthly, sen-

sual and devilish.

The end of our difficulties will not be by communism as dis-

ruptive, nor by the buliet as preservative of the old order. N-ither

will settle anything. The one is as irrational as the other. We

shall begin to build well when we discern what has gone to pieces

under us. Itis clear that the present condition of things has

brought into derision the political economy which has paraded its

as the

columns of statistics —the tombstones of dead acts

gauge of human possibilities; which has taught us that there is

only one principle — competition — the law of demand and sup-

ply, which presides over the regulation of labor.

That political economy sounded very well in the mouths of

doctrinaires. But society is breaking up under it, capital is

shriveling, and labor idle, incommunicative, sullen. We have ex-

cellent scientific authority that the will amounts to something in

the modification of environment.

The statement might have been added that the extent and

quality of modification depends on the intelligence and moral

intent.

Given these in high degree and of pure tone and all things are

possible. Given these and we shall cease to speak of labor as a

commodity. Itis not commodities we are talking about, “but

human creatures’ lives.’ A remarkable commodity this which

requires a national army and a state constabulary and local police

to keep it from ‘appropriating all the dear earned possessions of

man. The end of that wisdom is anarchy.

Life Insurance, Savings Banks, te. 37

We have reached in practice this demonstration: You cannot

found civilization, preserve capital, organize labor, carry on any

of our industrial or commercial functions, simply by the guidance

of the self regarding instinct.

Notr.— The foJlowing item from “ The Christian Union,” I append to the

foregoing essay for ressons that will be apparent on its perusal:

“ INDEPENDENT LABor.— In spite of-the multiplication of machinery there

is still a strong prejudice in favor of hand-made articles of all sorts, and

therein lies a suggestion that may relieve much of the distress that now

causes such wide-spread dissatisfaction with the existing state of things.

The ‘Scientific American’ says:

“The chronic superabundance of the labor supply in the older countries

had developed some condit'ons full of useful suggestions to us. Wherever

we travel, there we are surprised to learn that a large proportion of the smaller

articles of manufacture, with which, in some instances, the trade of the

world is supplied, are made by artisans in their own houses and with the

simplest appliances; aud we find there also, in almost every large town or

city long established, business houses whose sole business it is to receive and

distribute these goods, to find markets for the handiwork of the independent

workman. We know of prosperous firms in England who doa very exten-

sive trade in this way on an investment probably of not more than $10,000.

Obtaining samples of their productions from the various artisans so em-

ployed, they intrust them to their ‘drummers’ or ‘commercial travelers,’

who travel in every direction exhibiting them and soliciting orders; on re-

ceipt of an order tne special workman is notified, and soon makes his ap-

pearance with his basket or bundle of goods, which are inspected and paid

for according to previous agreement. Vhe goods are then put up in the con-

ventional packages and shipped according to order.’

“The individual workman may tbus compete with the corporations, but he

can only do so by producing an article which will possess some superiority

over the product of machine work. If in addition to this he can avail him-

self of associated means of disposing of his work, he may create an inde-

pendent market for his goods.” C. C.

38 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

DISTRIBUTION OF PROFITS.

A NEW ARRANGEMENT OF THAT SUBJECT.

By Pror. A. O. WRIGHT.

The following is offered as a new arrangement of the subject of

distribution of profits, differing in some important particulars from

the arrangement given in any work on political economy with

which the writer is acquainted.

In civilized communities nearly all Production requires the

union of capital and labor. The proceeds of production are then

distributed in various ways between the capitalist and the laborer.

In actual practice the capitalist and the laborer may or may not

be the same person; but in theory we may separate the shares of

capital and jabor. There is still a third party concerned in. pro-

duction, the business manager, who stands between the capitalist

and the laborer, and by his skill in superintendence increases the

proceeds of the business, and thus makes himself a sharer in the

proceeds.

The share which always belongs to the capitalist is called in-

terest, when it is paid for the use of money, and rent when it is

paid for the use of real estate. The rate of interest and the rate

of rent vary according to fixed laws which I need not give here.

The share which always belongs to labor is called wages (or in

some cases salary). ‘This also varies according to weli-known

jaws. After deducting interest or rent, as the case may be, and

wages, including the salary of the business manager, the net

proceeds are the real profits of the business. In some cases in-

stead of profits we should say losses, but this does not change the

conditions of the problem. Whoever receives the profits should

also bear the losses, and generally does. There are then two ques-

tions in regard to every kind of production: first, what are the

profits (or losses); and second, who gets them. In solving these

Distribution of Profits. 89

questions I make the following five cases, each of which presents

a different phase of the question :

CASE I.

In this case, capitalist, business manager and laborer are com-

bined in one person. Hxamples of this case are farmers who own

land and furnish their own labor; mechanics who own their own

shops and tools and do their own work; and merchants who

own their own stores and stock in trade, and keep no clerks. This

case is the simplest in practice and the most difficult in theory.

As one person combines the functions of capitalist, business man-

ager and laborer, there is no distribution of the proceeds. No one

pays interest or wages to himself. The question, who gets the

profits, is easily answered. But the question, what are the profits,

is much harder to answer, and indeed the producers who come

under this class rarely attempt to answer it. They confuse together

interest, wages and profits in one lump sum, and often fail to sep-

arate their personal or family expenses from the expenses of the

busine-s, or to account for the proceeds of the business which they

or their families consume.

To find the true profits of such a business, not only should all

business expenses be deducted from the gross proceeds, but also

interest on the capital invested and wages for the labor done. -

The farmer, mechanic or merchant, as the case may be, owes him-

self as a capitalist interest on the capital invested. He also owes

himself as business manager and laborer, wages for labor per-

formed. But all products of the business consumed in his family

should be added to the gross proceeds cf the business, and charged

to family expense account.

In this case a real business loss is frequently concealed under

the profits of capital and labor. The producer thinks he has

made so much out of his business, when in fact the business has

made nothing, and his receipts are really less than interest and

wages should be. So also a real business profit is frequently con-

cealed under extravagant personal or family expenses.

Bat it does not always follow that a farmer is losing money

who does not clear the interest on his land and stock, and wages

40 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and. Letters.

for his labor. He has the advantage, if he is free from debt, of

receiving interest without the trouble and risk of lending money

or renting a farm, and he has work all the year round. He can

put in odd hours and days of labor for himself where he could

not in working for some one else. The great advantage of small

farms held in fee simple is that more work can be put on them than

could be done by hired labor. This is an advantage both for the

farmer and for the whole community, as the case of France since

the revolution shows.

CASE II.

In this case capitalist and business manager are the same per-

son, employing one or more laborers. This case differs from

Case I only in the employment of laborers; and as a farmer’s, me-

chanic’s or merchant's business grows, it naturally runs into this

case.

In this case there is no distribution between capitalist and busi-

ness manager. The net profits of the business are found as in

Case I, except that the labor is partly or wholly paid for, accord-

ing as the proprietor himself works or not. This payment of

labor thus makes wages visible as a business expense. But the

proprietor’s own labor, as manager or laborer or both, must be

_accounted for as in Case I.

The remuneration of the laborers hired is generally (a) wages.

But it may be (b) ashare in the gross proceeds or in the net prof-

its, or (c) partly wages and partly a share in the proceeds or

profits. As the gross proceeds are so much more easily estimated

than the net profits it is found in practice usually better to givea

share in the proceeds in those cases where the laborer receives a

share of the results of the business. Thus on the cotton planta-

tions in the south, since the war, the negro laborers are often given

a share in the crop, a thing which they can easily understand and

in which they cannot easily be cheated; whereas if they are to

have a share in the net profits it would be easy to cook up the

accounts so as to cheat them, and with the utmost honesty on the

part of the planter it would be hard for him to make the negroes

understand the accounts he kept. But the simplest and most ob-

Tnstribution of Profits. 41

vious way is to pay the laborer wages, reserving to the proprietor

interest on the capital invested, salary as business manager, wages

as far as he performs labor, and the profits, if there are any. In

many kinds of business it would be hard to introduce any system

of sharing the profits with the laborer. Thus in a printing office,

where the workmen are constantly wandering from one office to

another, or on a farm where in harvest and threshing extra men

must be hired, or in a store where the amount of sales and the

net profits are both matters that often must be kept secret from

the public and from rivals, —in all these cases it would be hard

to introdece any system of giving the laborer a share either in

the proceeds or in the profits of the business. But where such a

system can be introduced it has obvious advantages over the sys-

tem of wages. It p:oduces a greater interest in the business on

the part of the laborer and therefore more faithful work and

greater care to prevent was’e. It is the usual practice in the

great mercantile houses to give the best clerks a partnership, that

is, a Share in the profits. The hope of thisis a constant incentive

to the younger clerks, and the offer of a partnership prevents the

best clerks from carrying their customers to rival houses or set-

ting up in business for themselves.

CASH III.

In this case the capitalist employs the business manager and

the laborer, giving them (a) wages or salary, (b) a share in the

profits or (c) a combination of the two. The capitalist takes in-

terest, and the net profits (or losses) of the business. In this case

the interest 1s concealed by the profits, but can be easily separated.

Thus if a capitalist builds a woolen mill, and employs a super-

intendent and several laborers, he usually pays asulary to the

first and wages to the secoud. But he may give the business man-

ager a share in the profits, thus virtually making him a partner.

Or he may make him formally a business partner, reserving the

title to the mill, and rent for it, to himself. Or he may give both

the superintendent and the handsa share in the profits. he usual

practice on a whaling ship is for the owner to receive one-half the

oil and whalebone, and for the other half to be divided among the

captain and crew, in so many “ lays,”’ or shares to each.

42 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

A variety of this case is where the capitalist is a corporation, as

in the case of a railway company, an insurance company, a na-

tional bank, a city newspaper or a manufacturing company. In

this case interest and protits combined appear as divijend. In a

large corporation there are often several business managers, each

with his department of the business. Very generally the manag-

ers are also stock-holders, and receive dividends in that capacity

as well as salaries as managers.

The questions raised by the subject of stock companies and

their dividends, areimportant questions in Distribution. But they

call for a separate treatment, and are omitted ia this paper.

Another variety of this case is when a number of persons are

associated so carry on a co-operative store. Usually the capital

of each partner is quite small; but for the purpose of carrying on

the co-operative store they are capitalists, even if they earn their

liv'ng as laborers. They simply club together their individual

Savi: gs, so as to make a mercantile association, aod then employ

a manager and clerks, and se'l to one another and to outsiders on

su: h terms as they choose to offer. In England these co-operative

stores have been quite successful.

CASH IY.

In this case the manager carries on the business, borrowing

money or goods of the capitalist or renting land or buildings of

him and employing laborers. In this case the distribution is, to

the capitalist interest or rent, to the laborer wages, and to the

manager salary for his services and the net profits (or losses.) It

should be noted that the case is very rare where the business

manager can borrow money, buy goods on credit or rent land

without capital of his own as a basis of confidence. On that

capital he should also have interest.

The best examp'e of this case perhaps is the system of agricul-

ture in England. There the capitalist is the landlord, who rents

land for a term of years, generally now for twenty-one years, un-.

der definite conditions in regard to crops and improvements, and

for a fixed rentin money. ‘The business manager is the farmer,

who receives salary for his services, interest on the capital he

invests in the shape of stock, tools, improvements on the land

Distribution of Profits. — 43

and advances made to the laborers before his crops are sold, and

the profits (or losses) of the business. The laborers receive wages,

often miserably inadequate.

A very common example of this case in this country is where

a merchant as business manager invests a small capital and buys

goods systematically on credit, renting a building and hiring

clerks. In this instance the capitalists are the owner of the store

who receives rent, and the wholesale dealers of whom goods are

bought on credit, who receive interest directly, or indirectly in the

enhanced price of the goods, and perhaps also the bank of which

the merchant secures accommodation loans from time to time,

paying a high rate of interest. The business manager is the

merchant who receives interest on the capital he has invested,

salary as business manager, wages as salesman, and the profits

(or losses) of the business. The clerk or clerks receive wages. I

need not say that the result of doing business in this way is in

nine cases out of ten a net loss, which falls either upon the mer-

chant or fully as often upon his foolish creditors, the wholesale

dealers.

A. variety of this case which almost deserves to be set off as

a case by itself, is when the business manager gives the capitalist

a share of the proceeds or of the net profits in lieu of interest or

rent. The most familiar example of thisis where a farm is rented

on shares. This is the usual method in the United States of rent-

ing farms, when they are rented at all. It is also, under the name

of Metayer rent, the usual method in France and Italy. In this

method of carrying on business, the distribution to the laborer is

wages; the distribution to the capitalist is rent in the form of a

share of the crop, which on the average of years is more than a

fair money rent. But this is usually more than offset by the ten-

ant’s neglect to keep up the land, as he holds only from year to

year. And the distribution to the business manager who in this

case is the tenant, is interest on the capital he has invested, if any,

wages for bis own labor and net profits (or losses) after paying

any laborers he has hired and giving the landlord his share of

the crop.

44 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Aris, and Letters.

CASE V.

Tn this case an association of laborers borrow capital and em-

ploy a busine:s manager who may or may not be one of their own

number. This case is a favorite one with many persons in theory,

but it has never thus far been found to work well in practice. To

avoid misconception, it should be noted that corporative stores do

not come under this case’ The laborers who organize a corpora-

tive store, do not as a rule work in the store, and are therefore in

regard to that business not laborers, but capitalists. They are

really a stock company to carry on a mercantile business and

therefore come under case III. as we have already seen.

But when journeymen shoemakers, for instance, form a co-oper-

ative association, they come under this case. As in all xinds of

business, capital is needed to begin it and to carry it on. This

capital may possibly be obtained in one of three ways: (a) By

borrowing money of some capitalist, which could not be done

ordinarily ; or (b) by renting a shop and buying materials cn

credit, a hazardous undertaking both for the association and for

the capitalist; or (c) by combining their separate earnings, which

would be the usual method. In this case the association as a

combination of capitalists employs its own members as business

manager and laborers.

This case in the last form differs from case I only in being the

case of a combination of individuals instead of a single individual,

that combine in one the three functions of capitalist, business

manager and laborer. But in this case, while there is no dis-

tribution between the association and outsiders, there is a question

of distribution between the members of the association. Of the

various methods which might be adopted, the following is the

most in accordance with the principles of political economy. Let

the members be credited with the capital advanced by each as so

much stock in the association ; let the members be paid for their

services at the market rates, and if possible, by the piece and not

by the day, and after paying these wages and other expenses, let

the members divide the profits or losses on the basis of the capital

advanced by each, like any stock company. All these five cases

have their place in the transactions of business, and every form of

Distribution of Profits. 45

productive industry must fall under some one of them. I sum-

marize them in closing:

Case I. Where the same person is capitalist, business manager

and laborer.

Case I]. Where the capitalist and business manager are the

same person, employing laborers.

Case II]. Where the capitalist employs the business manager

and laborers. All business corporations are a variety of this

case.

Case IV. Where the manager carries on the bnsiness, borrow-

ing or renting of the capitalist and employing laborers.

Case V. Where an associution of laborers employ themselves

and furnish their own capital.

46 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

WHALTH, CAPITAL AND CREDIT.

By J. B. Parkinson, of Madison.

)

Macleod in his “Theory and Practice of Banking” asks why

political economy has not yet attained the same rank as an exact

science as mechanics, and answers, ‘‘ because the same care has

never yet been given to settle its definitions and axioms.” In this

answer we are furnished with but a fraction of the truth. A

d+ eper reason is, its definitions and its axioms are far more difficult

of settlement than those pertaining to mechanics or to any of the

more exact sciences.

Political economy labors under special disadvantages. Its close

relation to the moral sciences, whose circles certainly touch if they

do not overlap, brings it continually into contact with feelings and

prepossessions which are nearly sure to leave their impress upon

the discussion of its principles. Its conclusions, too, from the

very nature of the subject matter of which it treats, have a direct

and visible bearing upon human conduct in some of the most ex-

citing pursuits of life, while its technical terms by a sort of com-

pulsion are taken from the language of the people, and must

partake in a greater or less degree ot the looseness of colloquial

usage. Its growth seems slower than it really is, for it belongs to

a class of sciences whose work can never end. The chief data

from which it reasons are human character and human institu-

tions, and whatever affects these must continually create new

problems for its solution.

Of disputes about definitions there is no end. ‘They are rife in

every science. In political economy they are especially so, and

chiefly for the reasons above stated. Disputes of this character

are usually harmless, and not uncommonly stale and unprofitable.

But there are economic questions of vital import, such as reach

to the very essence of things, about which we do not find that

harmony which would seem to be essential to healthy and rapid

progress.

Wealth, Capital and Credit. 47

The subject to which I desire to call attention chiefly at this

time is credit, but before doing so, it is important fo pass in brief

review two or three other terms which lead up to and are neces-

sarily involved in any discussion of credit.

- The first of these is value, an important term in Poli‘ical Econ-

omy, and one almost necessarily concerned in every economical

discussion. A misapprehension of the nature of value will vitiate

all reasoning upon questions of economy and finan:e. The term

is a relative one, and herein lies the chief difficulty. That which

is absvlate the mind can seize and hold, but mere relations are

apt to slip the grasp at every turn. Value always implies a co.n-

parison. It is the relation which one thing bears to another as

made known by an act of free exchange. In other words, ex-

change, which is a sort of equalizing of estimates, alone gives ex:

pression to value. It would be just as reasonable to attempt to

determine a ratio by considering one of its terms only, as to at-

tempt to asce' tain the value of a thing without comparing it with

something else.

Another term closely allied to value, and which is made the cen-

tral word in most of the definitions of political economy, is wealth.

This, also, like other terms which this science is compe’ led to use,

is taken from every-day language, and is sometimes employed in

a vague, and often in a metaphorical sense. ‘“‘ Hvery one,” says J.

S. Mill, “bas a notion, sufficiently correct for common purposes, of

what is meant by wealth. The inquiries which relate to it are in

no danger of being confounded with those relating to anv other of

the great human interests” While this is true, yet, as Mill him-

self shows, the most mischievous confusion of ideas his existed

upon the subject, which for generations gave a th ronghly false

direction to the whole policy of Hurope. Under the so called

‘Me cantile System,” nations in their intercourse with each o' her

assumed, either expressly or tacitly, that money an! the precious

metals capable of being converted directly into money were alone

wealth — that whatever sent these out of a country impoverished

it, whatever tended to heap them up in a country added to its

wealth, no matter what or how much of cther commodities was

given in exchange for them. These crude notions have in the

48 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

main been dissipated, yet some traces of them still lingerand often

crop out in discussions upon what is called the balance of trade.

Disputes about wealth still go on, but they are mainly over dis-

tinctions of metaphysical nicety. Political economists are sub-

stantially agreed as to the nature of the thing itself, and only

quarrel about whether this or that shall be admitted to the cate-

gory. In the language of the logicians, they differ about the term

im extension, not in intension.

Prof. Perry, however, holds thatitisimpossible to frame any

definition of wealth which wili render the word fit for scientific

use. He has written a book about wealth without stopping to de-

fine it. It isa work of much merit, but is marred, it seems to me,

by the author’s persistent attempt to ignore this term. Nothing

is gained by calling political economy the “' science of exchanges,”

or the ‘‘science of value.” The question What is wealth? must

still be met, for to wealth only do exchanges apply or does value

attach. Wealth is usually defined, and I have no new definition

to offer, as ‘anything which can be appropriated and exchanged.”

The essential requirements are that it shall possess utility, or the

capacity to satisfy desire, and be the result or embodiment of labor.

Hence, as a generic term, it includes all objects of value and no

others. It is usual to include in wealth material things only —

such as may be accumulated, stored. Such limitation is more in

accordance with the popular notion of wealth, although strictly

and logically the term includes more. The question of wealth or

not wea'th does not absolutely turn upon the length of time a

thing may be enjoyed, nor upon whether it may be seen or tasted

or handled. The primary source of wealth is the free bounty of

nature. ‘The secondary source is labor which also gives the right

of possession. Nature is liberal in her gifts, but she rarely offers

them in a condition just ready for man’s consumption. Man be-

gins where other animals end. They use nature's gifts as they

find them. He, like them, partakes of her fruits, but is expécted

to fit them for his use by rational effort. The accumulated wealth

of the world is but the result of the application of labor to the

materials furnished at free hand. Wealth and capital must not

be confounded. The former includes all objects which may be

Wealth, Capital and Credit. a8)

appropriated and exchanged, the latter, such only as may be em-

ployed in production, or at most, such as are set aside for produc-

tive purposes. Hence, all capital is wealth but all wealth is not

capital. Wealth is generic, capital is specific. Capital-is some-

times called labor of the past. Itis the result rather of the

combination of past labor and natural agents. The knowledge

and skill of workmen also are by some included under the head

of capital. There are grave objections to such a classification. It

tends to break down all distinction between capital and labor, or

rather, between capital and laborers. All labor implies a union

of physical and intellectual effort, and the same reasoning which

is urged in favor of reckoning the acquired knowledge and skill

of the laborer as a part of capital would, if followed to its logi-

cal results, include his physical strength also in the same category.

Itis claimed that men sell their skill —their intellectual and

physical dexterity. If this be true, then they also sell their mere

physical powers. ‘The truth is they sell neither. The reswlis of

each are bought and sold in the market— not these powers and.

capacities themselves. It is a characteristic of the latter that they

are retained and used — not parted with at all. Nor is the skill

of a mechanic, strictly speaking, s»mething owned. Possession

implies something outside of the possessor. Knowledge and skill

and physical power go to make up the man,— they are a part of

what he zs, not what he has. Labor helps to create capital, and

the powers of the laborer, whether natural or acquired, are poten-

tial labor.

We are now in a better condition to understand the nature and

chief functions of credit As the etymology of the word signi-

fies, credit is trust—confiderce. Prof. Fawcett defines it as

‘‘power to borrow.” From the standpoint of the borrower this

is correct, but back of this power and essential to its exercise is

the trust imposed by the creditor. In its generic sense, credit is

implied in all mutual dependence and mutual helpfulness. With-

out it, society would be impossible and human intercourse prac-

tically at an end. As applied in the affairs of life, credit is

reliance on the integrity, energy and skill of one’s fellow men, and

the extent to which it may be safely carried is one of the highest

50 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

tests of civilization. It is neither wealth nor capital—does not

of itself create either. It brings wealth into the form of capital

and thus gives experience to the industrial talent of a country.

All written instruments of credit, when in use, whether in the

form of book accounts, bank bills, checks, bills of exchange, or

what not, are tangible evidences that trust has been imposed and

that the power to borrow has been exercised. But credit may be

signified by spoken words, as weil as by written, or even without

the use of either. Prof. Perry says “credits are debts not yet

realized,” meaning probably that instruments of credit are evi-

dences of rights not yet realized, and obligations yet unfulfilled.

Credit creates rights and rights imply obligations. The terms are

reciprocal.

All this seems plain enough, but it is only by holding fast to

elementary truths that we can hope to reason clearly upon any

subject. More fallacies cluster about and take root in the sub-

ject of credit than in any other within the whole range of politi-

cal economy. ‘They find expression everywhere, but especially

in language and legislation connected with taxation and the cur-

rency. Chief among these is the notion that evidences of debt

are wealth. It seems to me that some political economists of high

standing are not wholly free from responsibility in this matter.

Even John Stuart Mill, who usually weighed his words with

great care, has used language in the preliminary chapter of his

‘Principles of Political Economy,” which even taken as a whole,

if not absolutely inaccurate, is difficult to reconcile with his own

teachings elsewhere, and is certainly misleading. He attempts to

draw a distinction between wealth as applied to the possessions of

an individual and to those of a nation or of mankind. “In the

wealth of mankind,” he says, “nothing is included which does

not of itself answer some purpose of utility or pleasure. ‘To an

individual anything is wealth which, though useless in itself, en-

ables him to claim from others a part of their stock of things use-

ful and pleasant. Take for instance a mortgage for a thousand

pounds on a landed estate. This is wealth to the person to whom

it brings in a revenue, and who could perhaps sell it in the mar-

ket for the full amount of the debt. But it is not wealth to the

Wealth, Capital and Credit. 51

country; if the engagement were annulled the country would be

neither poorer nor richer. The mortgagee would have lost a

thousand pounds, and the owner of the land would have gained

it. Speaking nationally, the mortgage was not itself wealth, bus

merely gave A aclaim to a portion of the wealth of B. It was

wealth to A, and wealth which he could transfer to a third per-

son, but’’—and here comes in a saving clause which contains the

essence of the whole matter — ‘‘that which he so transferred was

a joint ownership, to the extent of a thousand pounds, in the land

of which B was nominally sole proprietor.” The public funds

of a country are in precisely the same category. Mr. Mill says

they cannot be counted as part of the national wealth, but inti-

mates in one breath that they area part of individual wealth, and

in the next wipes out the distinction. ‘They are not. real wealth

at all, neither national nor individua!. The fundholders are

“‘mortgagees on the general wealth of the country;” the funds

indicate liens upon that which is real and tangible, to be drawn

ultimately from the tax payers of the nation. Mr. Mill also gives

countenance to a distincton between the wealth of a nation and

that of mankind. “A country,’ he says, “may include in its

wealth all stock held by its citizens in the funds of foreign coun-

tries, and other debts due to them from abroad.” But, as if not

quite satisfied with this statement, he adds, ‘even this is only

wealth to them by being a part ownership in wealth held by

others. It forms no part of the wealth of the human race.”’

There is in reality no distinction between the wealth of an in-

dividual, of a nation and of mankind. Individual wealth is and

must be a part of national wealth, and national wealth isand must

be a part of the wealth of the human race. If the context were

always carefully read in explanation of the text, Mill might per-

haps be safely allowed to answer Mill. As it is, his insufliciently

guarded words at this point have helped to perpetuate the thou-

sand and one fallacies which find expression in discussions about

currency, banking and taxation.

Professor Perry has taken his stand without qualification on

the economic theory that credits, rights, claims are property,

meaning by property wealth or capital. The term property is an

52 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

exceedingly ambiguous one. Not to speak of its various second-

ary and metaphorical uses, it is employed in two important and

totally distinct senses. Ina purely legal point of view, it is the

right or title to a thing —ownership. But in the more common

and popular sense, and the one in which alone political economy

is concerned about it, it is a tangible entity — the thing owned —

that upon which the claim is based —that in which the right or

title inheres. In this sense there is no difference between property

and wealth. “The test of property,” say Professor Perry, “is

a sale; that which will bring something when exposed for ex-

change is property; that which will bring nothing, either never

was, or has now ceased to be, distinctively property.” But Pro-

fessor Perry holds that credits, rights, claims, are property ; that

property is or may be capital, and that all capital is wealth. It

seems to me there is a fallacy here, and that it lies in considering

that what are bought and sold are mere rights and claims, separate

and distinct from the entities in which the rights inhere, and to

which the claims attach. Strike the property out of existence

upon which a claim rests, and the claim disappears with it. De-

stroy a man’s claim, on the other hand, or all evidences of it, and

the property remains — the ownership simply changes hands.

If titles are property in the sense of wealth, it would seem that

a community has an easy road to fortune. Its farms and other

real estate are wealth ; they need only be mortgaged to create as

much new wealth in the form of personal property. If mere

titles are property, then the wealth of the nation or, is you please,

of the individuals of the nation, may at least be doubled without

any appreciable expenditure of time or labor. The truth is,

wealth is something valuable and which has become so through

the application of labor, and a title to it, or a claim upon it, or a

representation of it, can no more be wealth than a shadow can be

substance.

The notion that titles and claims are property finds ample ex-

pression in tax-laws. Few countries afford better opportunities for

testing methods of taxation than our own, but none certainly can

exhibit such an array of incongruities. The ease with which

property is accumulated makes us less considerate of expenditures

Wealth, Caiplal and Credit. 58

and leakages. Under the plea of equalizing the burden, our gen-

eral theory seems to be to tax everything without inquiring

whether it be a symbol ora reality, a lien upon a thing or the

thing itself. The result is, the very inequalities we would obviate

are, aggravated. If political economists of high standing insist

not only that real estate is property, but that mortgages upon it

are also property, is it strange that legislatures enact that each

shall be taxed? Touching this question, the conclusion of Judge

Foster, set forth in his dissenting opinion given in the somewhat

celebrated case of Kirtland vs. Hotchkiss, heard before the Su-

preme Court of Hrrors of the State of Connecticut, seems almost

axiomatic. He said:—‘ Property and a debt, considered as a

representative of the property pledged for its payment, constitute

but one subject for the purpose of taxation. The tax being paid

on the property without diminution on account of the debt, noth-

ing remains to be taxed. The debt, indeed, aside from the prop-

erty behind it, and of which it is the representative, is simply

worthless.” We may call what we like, property or wealth,

and governments may determine that all property, including im-

aginary things and legal fictions, shall be taxed, but nothing short

of omnipotence can make something out of nothing, or collect

taxes from symbols. ‘It is property in possession, or enjoyment,

and not merely in right, which must ultimately pay every tax.”

Rights and titles and claims are elements in the distribution of

wealth, not in its composition. They attach to pre-existing prop-

erty and may be multiplied indefinitely. Any tax upon them

is only another means of burdening the property that lies behind

them.

But it is in connection with the currency that credit wields its

chief influence, and may work its greatest mischief. Leading wri-

ters upon political economy and finance have done much to instill

correct notions of money and its various credit substitutes, and

their responsibility in this direction can scarcely be over-esti-

mated. In this light, it is at least an open question, whether the

views of Professor Francis A. Walker, as set forth in his late work

on “Money,” and also in his later one on ‘‘ Money, Trade and

Industry,” do not give some encouragement to the numberless

o4 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

fallacies that are afloat upon this subject. Professor Walker has

done excellent service in the economic field. He always writes

with clearness and vigor, and whatever he says upon any topic is

sure to command attention. “Money,” he says, is that which

passes freely from hand to hand throughout the community, in

final discharge of debts and full payment for commodities, being

accepted equally without reference to the character or credit of

the person who offers it, and without the intention of the person

who receives it to consume it, or enjoy it, or apply it to any other

use than in turn to tender it to others in discharge of debts or

payment for commodities.’ This is an almost faultless descrip-

tion of money as a fact, and if we were dealing with facts only and

not with their interpretation, it might be allowed to pass without

comment. ‘The core of this description lies in the words ‘final

discharge of debts and full payment for commodities.” In their

correct interpretation rests the whole matter in dispute. In the

view of Professor Walker the question, money or not money, is,

in respect to anything that could be taken, whoily a question of

degree — the degree of the extent and facility of its use in ex-

change. If the thing be a paper promise, another distinction is

called in, which is that the promise must be that of somebody else,

and not of the one who offers it. ‘If I purchase a farm from any

one,’ he says, ‘‘and give him my promise to pay him at some fu-

ture date, that promise, whatever form it takes, whether written on

paper or stamped upon brass, whatever my character or compe-

tence, whether I be rich or poor, honest or dishonest, 1s not money.

The goods are not yet paid for, but are yet to be paid for. I have

taken credit; I have not given money. The seller still looks to

me for the equivalent of the goods he has parted with, * *. *

I buy a horse, and give the owner thirty $5 notes. Have I

taken credit? Not at all; Ihave paid for the horse. * * *

He takes the notes from me because they are money — that is, be-

cause they have such general acceptance throughout the country

that he knows men will freely and gladly take them from him

whenever he wishes to buy anything.”

As a matter of fact, the credit element enters into both of these

transactions. In each case it is between the maker of the prom-

Wealth, Capital and Credit. 55

ise and the receiver of it. Inthe one case the promise is made

directly to a particular person, in the other it is made to bearer.

In the one case the maker is an individual, in the other, a collec-

tion of individuals or corporation. In each case the maker of the

promise is held under the law, more or legs perfectly, to its fulfill-

ment. According to one distinction made by Professor Walker,

neither the bank bill nor the promissory note is money, as between

the bank or the individual maker and the holder of the bill or

note. But between other parties and according to the other dis-

tinction, which turns upon the degree of currency, he holds that

the bank bill is money, and the individual note not money. But

aman may beso widely known, his integrity be of so higha

character, and his means so ample, that his promise may be just

as good and just as current as an ordinary bank note. The one

may be called money and the other not. The law may determine

that an acceptance of the one shall be a bar to any further re-

course upon the party from whom it is received, and that an ac-

ceptance of the other shall not be such a bar. All this lies close

to the surface. It does not reach to the root of the matter. The

question, money or not money, can never turn solely upon the

“‘degree of currency” of the thing in use. This depends upon

time and place and other circumstances, and attaches even to gold

and silver as well as to the different substitutes. The distinction

lies deeper. Money pays, but every paper substitute bears upon

its face the evidence that it does not pay in the full and complete

sense of the term.

But, says Professor Walker, ‘‘to say that a bank note is a

promise to pay money is to beg the question. A bank note isa

promise to pay gold or silver, and therefore, if you please, is

neither gold nor silver; but wherefore not money? Money is

that money does; and the bank note performs the money func-

tion in every particular.” In this last sentence he himself begs

the question, and, although unintentionally, gives aid and com-

fort to the advocates of “fiat” money. The bank note promises

to pay frances or pounds or dollars, and these have a definite and

well understood meaning. They are a “material recompense or

equivalent’ — are wealth and really pay for wealth. Money

56 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

proper conforms strictly to Prof. Walker’s own description; prom-

ises to pay, or orders to pay, of whatever name or nature, do

not so conform. Money passes from hand to hand throughout

the community in final discharge of debts aud full payment for

commodities by no magical process, nor because it is called

money, or declared to be money by an edict of the government,

but for the reason that it is a complete equivalent. Bank bills,

promissory notes, checks, and various other credit instruments,

take the place of money in part by serving some of its purposes,

and it is because they do so that they become so dangerous in

actual use, if not properly guarded. But they serve these pur-

poses not through any force of their own, but as representatives.

Their energy is not primitive, but derivative. They are not

actual equivalents, but claims, only, or evidences of claim, upon

that which is an equivalent; and when the principal in whose

name thev act disappears, their force and authority is gone. Pro-

fessor Walker, in his whole characterization of money, largely

ignores its most delicate if not most important function — that of

serving as a measure of wealth or standard of value. Almost

anything which the parties concerned may agree upon will serve as

a medium of exchange — a bank bill, a check, a note of hand, “a

chalk mark behind the door, a notch in a stick, a wink at an

auctioneer ’”— but very few things will serve well asa standard

of value. ‘To do so, they must themselves be valuable, that is,

be objects of general desire and the results of labor. They must

be something that pays as it goes —that walks by sight and not

by faith — that, when accepted, leaves no recourse upon anybody,

either in law or equity. No credit instruments can fully meet

these requirements. The distinction is vital. Ignore it, and the

floodgates are open for all sorts of money and all sorts of notions

about money.

The Nature and Functions of Credit. 57

THK NATURE AND FUNCTIONS OF CREDIT.

A. L. CHapin, D. D.

Some exercise of trust between man and man is essential to the

very existence of human society. ‘Trust implies two things; first,

an intellectual belief in the truthfulness and integrity of one’s

fellow-men; and second, a blended feeling of dependence and

reliance in mutual relations and intercourse. As civilization

advances, this element of trust enters more and more into all the

various intercourse of mankind, and its extent and the soundness

of its basis become a sign of the social condition and moral char-

acter of a people.

Credit is but a technical name for the trust which runs through

all the manifold processes of productive industry and commerce.

It is indispensable to the effective division of labor and to the

free and advantageous exchange of the products of labor. It

pervades the business operations of men the world over, as that

subtile agent, light, pervades the material universe. Its opera-

tions are most minute in their details, most magnificent in their

range and most grand and sometimes terrible in their results. It

seems a very small affair, when the butcher enters on the poor

sewing-woman’s market book a daily bit of meat, expecting the

account to be settled at the end of each week. It is nevertheless

an operation of credit, not altogether insignificant to the parties

concerned. You look with wonder at the silent manipulations of

the bank clerks as they pass in procession along the desks of the

New York clearing-house, and when you are told that what is

done there in that one still hour of the day adjusts thousands of

commercial transactions and redistributes a hundred millions of

wealth, you get sowie conception of the vast complications of this

agency we call credit. And when you hear that the nod of the

autocrat of the Rothschild’s bank, settles questions of peace and

war between conflicting nations, you apprehend what a power

this agency, credit, is in human affairs.

The word credit is in common use, employed quite vaguely,

58 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

and the indefinite use of the term has confused the discussion of

many economical problems, and led to erroneous opinions. In

its correct use, the radical meaning of trust— that mental exer-

cise which includes an intellectual judgment and a feeling of reli-

ance, must always be kept prominent. Credit is always a sub-

jective thing with the man who trusts rather than an objective |

quality of the man trusted. We speak loosely of a man’s credit,

meaning something in his character or condition which is a power

to command credit. The real measure of his credit is, however,

the estimate in which he is held by others. Swindlers understand

this very well, and their efforts are never to perfect in themselves

trustworthy qualities, but by whatever deceptive arts, to mislead

the judgment and to win confidence in their favor. Judgment

and feeling are very closely identified in the exercise of credit.

The normal exercise requires that the judgment should regulate

the feeling, but too often this order is reversed; the feeling runs

away with the judgment. Hence over-confidence unduly ex-

panding credit, at one time, followed by the reaction of panie,

when unreasoning distrust paralyzes all business activity.

As a technical term in the science of Political Hconomy,

‘Credit is Trust in the promise of an equivalent to be rendered

at a future time for values immediately transferred.” It supposes

one of the highest acts of human free-will, a contract between

two parties, in which a present advantage conferred is balanced by

an obligation to be fulfilled in the future. The possibility of

thus entering into a contract and its binding force proceed from

two capacities of the human mind, viz., foresight and freedom.

For a present consideration, anticipating future resources, a man

freely binds himself by an expressed intention respecting a future

act, surrendering his right to change that intention. It is evident

then that the soundness of credit, the strength of trust, in a par-

ticular case or in regard to transactions generally must be deter-

mined by the care with which such obligations are assumed and

the sacredness with which they are regarded.

The true basis of credit is real wealth, existing or prospective,

which is or is expected to be at the command of the party trusted.

Credit is never self-supporting. It does not go alone. It can

The Nature and Functions of Credit. 59

neither walk nor fly. The waxen wings of imagination on which

like Deedalus, it sometimes boldly starts forth are quickly melted

and its fall is swift and ruinous. Credit must ever and anon feel

under it the solid ground of real wealth. The promise must

meet the test of actual fulfillment. Thus our first thought recurs

again. The essence of credit is confidence in these two things

which are its inseparable supports, the truthfulness and the prob-

able ability of the promisor,—a moral and a material property

joined.

Money as a commonly accepted measure or standard of value,

fulfills an office of the highest consequence in all operations of

eredit. Except in rare, special cases, it furnishes the terms of the

contract. Values immediately transferred are set down in terms

of money, which fix the measure of values for the deferred pay-

ment. If meantime a change occur in the purchasing power

of money, the actual effect of the contract is materially changed

to the disadvantage of one or other of the parties. Hence, what-

ever causes fluctuations in the quantity or quality of money, dis-

turbs credit. That steady, healthful trust which we have seen to

be the essence of credit can never be maintained with unstable

currency. To this cause mainly we must refer the distrust which |

prevades the business of our country to-day, and in the midst of

of abundant resources paralyzes industry and brings thousands

of our stalwart, enterprising people face to face with abject

poverty. In the very nature of things, the co-relation between

money and credit is close and constant. An unnatural increase

in the quantity of that which passes for money by turning certain

forms of credit into money, as we saw in the issue of the govern-

ment greenbacks fifteen years ago, tends to a much greater ex-

pansion of credit. The artificial stimulus of this double expansion

produces in all business a delirium of intoxication. While the

excitement lasts every thing runs wild. But the reaction and

collapse are sure to come. Weare living now in the day after

the debauch. Oh what headaches, what nausea, what exhaustion

do we meet on every hand. We wake as from a dream and won-

der how we ever suffered our trust to be imposed upon. We

look upon the wrecks lying all around and ciutch the little we can

60 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Leiters.

gather of what is left, afraid to trust anybody more. Would to

God this sad experience might open men’s eyes to understand the

nature of credit and to hold it henceforth within its true limita-

tions under wise regulation.

As I now pass to speak of the functions of credit, I must no-

tice two or three false notions which are more or less current.

1. Credit is not wealth nor capital. It is only a means or occa-

sion for transferring wealth from one to another. A farmer takes

from the manufacturer a plow, and gives in return his note pay-

able at the end of six months. When the contract is made, there

is but a single item of weaith, the plow. The note given is but

the symbol or evidence of its value transferred. Neither the

promise on the part of the farmer, nor the trust on the part of the

manufacturer has value in itself. The payment of the note, then,

is only the return in another form of the one value. If during

the period of the contract new wealth has been created, by the

use of the plow, it is only as that item of wealth has been made

capital, so as in union with labor to become productive. The

credit received has merely adjusted the transfer of the one value.

Proceeding on the false notion that credit is capital, ninety out of

every hundred merchants fail. The false notion still governs the

legislation of almost every state in our land, and leads to double

taxation, because symbols, mere evidences of debt, are regarded

as of the very substance of wealth.

2. Credit does not of itself create capital. It has no original

power to make something out of nothing. Wealth does not grow

by the mere act of passing from hand to hand. Its increase

comes only from its union with labor. The mere multiplying of

promises to pay does not make a man rich, as many a deluded

creditor has learned to his sorrow. Can a nation, any more than

an individual grow rich by that process?

3. The trusted promises of credit in certain forms may be

thrown into general circulation, but they are ever simple evi-

dences of debt, and as they pass from hand to hand they do noth-

ing more than transfer the debts for which they were originally

issued. This is only saying that an item of wealth cannot be

used at the same time by both its owner and the man to whom it

The Nature and Functions of Credit. 61

is lent. Sixteen years ago, a woolen manufacturer furnished the

United States government with four pairs of army blankets, and

accepted in return its promise to pay ten dollars, —the term

dollars meaning a certain weight of gold or silver. <A., the first

receiver of that bill of credit, could have no use of the article he

had loaned the government, or its value, till he passed it to an-

other, B., for an equivalent item of real wealth. 3B. passed it in

like manner to C., and so it has been moving on through five

hundred different hands, till it has come to me. In every trans-

fer it has just passed along that original debt of the United

States government. Itis to me just what it was at first, a mere

promise of a certain weight of gold or silver to be rendered at

some future time. Suppose that to-morrow the government, by

word or act should break its contract by turning the word dollars

into a mythical term meaning neither gold or silver, or any other

form of real wealth, only an ideal something to count by, who

then will take it at my hands in exchange for any substance of real

wealth? It and the thirty-five millions of outstanding promises

like it, would drop like the leaves in Vallambrosa’s vale, dead

and worthless.

Now to speak more positively, we may define four distinct and

important functions of credit.

1. Credit is a most effective means of uniting capital and labor

for the production of wealth. It is not itself capital and cannot

create capital, but it does greatly increase the sum of wealth

available as capital for profitable uses. A thrifty mechanic leaves

as the fruit of his life’s labor, a large shop well appointed with

machinery and tools. But his widow who inherits the estate can

do nothing with the property in this form. Across the way, is a

young man who has strength and skill and all needed qualifica-

tions for business, but is destitute of capital. The widow rents

her establishment to the young workman, and so credit joins tke

labor of the past with present labor for fruitful production and

profit to both.. But for this interposition, both must have been

idle. In every community there are many engaged in active in-

dustry who yearly lay by little savings which they cannot use

themselves. If there was no such thing as credit, all this wealth,

62 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

amounting in the aggregate to millions, must also be idle or be

wasted in unskillful and unsuccessful attempts to make it yield a

profit. Meantime hundreds of vigorous men must also be idle

for lack of this very capital to work upon. Credit is thus in-

dispensable to draw out the entire capital of a country and also

to develop most completely the industrial talent of the people. It |

becomes thus the very spring of industrial enterprise. Thesound

and healthy exercise of credit, is of the utmost consequence to the

laboring classes. .

2. Credit quickens exchanges. The plowmaker’s winter work

gives him a large stock of plows in the spring. The farmers

want the plows in the spring, but they are to derive the means of

paying for them from the harvest. If no sale could be made till the

means of purchase were in hand, business with both parties

must be suspended. Through credit the exchange may be made

at once. As in this particnlar case, so of ten thousand other

things, credit turns them off at once, and capital on every hand

is rapidly turned over. It is thus an important function of credit,

to keep all the channels of business stirring with life and activity.

By it articles are brought within reach just when they are needed:

By no other means could the market be kept constantly sup-

plied.

3. Credit serves directly as an instrument of exchange. The

simplest phase of this function is in ordinary book accounts. A,

buys of B. on credit, and B. buys of A. on credit. At the year’s

end the books are balanced by the payment of the difference or

by simply carrying it over to begin the annual. account for the

next year. Here exchanges are really made in kind without any

of the inconveniences of barter. This is ramified and extended

indefinitely, not only between individuals but between cities and

nations all around the world, and the greater part of the ex-

changes is resolved into exchanges in kind. The trade of Mil-

waukee to-day is mainly an account of credit with all other cities

of the country and the worid with which she deals.. The amount

of money invested in these exchanges is insignificant compared

with the values which are transferred through this agency of

credit.

The Nature and Functions of Credit. 63

4, Credit puts every man’s wealth at his disposal just when he

wants to find and use it. A thrifty farmer finds when his har-

vests are all gathered in that he has ample provision for his house-

hold for a year, and a thousand bushels of wheat beside. He

concludes to devote this surplus of his wealth to his own improve-

ment by travel abroad. How can this thousand bushels of wheat

be made available for that? What he will really need is the

means of locomotion and something to eat and wear, wherever he .

goes. How shall he get those things out of his present form of

wealth? He can’t well carry his wheat with him. If he turns its

value into money, it will be difficult and dangerous to carry so

much gold and silver with him. — Credit solves his problem.

Through the wheat buyer at home he may pass nis grain into the

great channel of commerce, and it is made at once the basis of a

circular letter of credit which he can put into his pocket in the

assurance that in any one of the two hundred cities of the old

world named therein, he will find a correspondent of his banker,

who, on seeing the letter will furnish him the means of obtaining

whatever he may need, asking only that he leave his own auto-

graph attached to a receipt behind him. Possibly he may find

himself at a restaurant in Paris eating bread made of his own

wheat. However that may be, through this wonderful function

of credit, his wheat will carry him about everywhere, supplying

all his wants till its value is exhausted. The letter in which he

puts his trust, commands for him everywhere the trust of others

whom he never saw before and never will see again.

With reference to all these functions of credit, however, it is to

be remembered that a basis of sound money is indispensable. Real

money is the ballast of the ship of trade. Credit furnishes the

sails. Any ballast that easily shifts in a storm is sure to bring

danger to the ship. ‘The credit which controls the world and

binds all civilized nations together by the interests and mutual

service of universal industry and commerce, must be sustained by

the all-prevailing presence of money whose value is uniform and

stable. (Quality in this matter is of more consequence even than

quantity. The nation that robs its money of these qualities of

stability and uniformity with that of the rest of the world, shatters

64 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

its credit and rules itself out of free and equal commercial rela-

tions with other nations.

Speaking, as I do, in the city of Milwaukee, let me say before

I close, that I have been well situated to observe the commercial

development of our state, and especially of this city, almost from

the beginning. It has been, in the main, a healthy, prosperous —

development. Our credit has been stable and unquestioned, not

‘convulsed and bankrupted, as has been the case with states on

either side of us. Milwaukee, I believe, has stood the severe test

of the recent financial revulsion in the commercial world, better ~

than any other western city. Comparatively few failures have

occurred. This favorable condition, it seems to me, is due in no

small degree to the steadying influence of an institution early

established here, almost by an evasion of law, as an agency of

credit to meet the ever pressing need of industrial enterprise.

When in the phrensied hostility to a paper currency, caused by

fraudulent operations of wild speculation, banks were in disrepute

and almost entirely disallowed through all this western country,

the Wisconsin Marine and Fire Insurance Company, issued its

certificates of deposits, and they went into general circulation, be-

cause they met an absolute pressing necessity. The institution

performed all the function; of a bank without the name. The

public confidence had nothing to rest on but the honor and integ-

rity of the managers, who put some real capital into the venture

and sought profit for themselves only in identification with the ad-

vantage of the community. But there was a basis of solid capital

and a great deal of Scotch honesty and thrift in the management,

and so the operations were sound, the promises were made good,

and the institution greatly aided the rapid unfolding of wealth in

our state and in the whole region. It was subjected to more than

one fiery ordeal under the efforts of enemies to break it down, but

it triumphantly withstood all assaults, and stands to-day in

strength and honor, the leading banking institution of our state,

identified through all its history, with every branch of vigorous

productive industry. If it has brought wealth to its proprietors,

it is but a fit reward for what it has done to increase the wealth

of the whole community.

. The Nature and Functions of Credit. 65

I refer to this institution only as an illustration of what sound

banking is, and of what it does for the common weal. Banking

is simply the chief agency of credit, and its true function is at the

same time to facilitate and to regulate all operations of credit, so

as to draw out to the utmost the resourcesand energies of a people

in fruitful industry. Rightfully managed, on a sound basis, it is

an agency for unspeakable good; on an unstable basis, abused

for purposes of greed and fraud, it is an instrument of unspeak-

able mischief.

66 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

NATURE AND THE SUPHRNATURAL.

J.J. ELMENDORF, S. T. D.

IT am somewhat afraid that the subject of my paper may lead

some to suppose that I am introducing theological discussion into

the transactions of the Academy. If I should fall into this error

it will be unintentional on my part, and I beg pardon in advance.

Concerning my own views of the truth and meaning ox certain

wonderful events recorded in documents which profess to be his-

torical, there need be no question. But I do not see that my

views on these points need affect the philosophical and scientific

problem which I submit for investigation. I propose it in the

same spirit as far as is possible, as if the question concerned the

history of India, and a narrative of Buddha. Philosophy and

science cannot ignore what is immediately around them, viz: a

very general reception of certain extraordinary narratives of

various kinds; and it is a question to be considered whether

there is any case to come before the bar of philosophy or science,

or whether these must relegate the matter to another tribunal,

since they are incompetent to decide it.

The problem, briefly stated, is this: Inasmuch as nature with

its rigid mechanical laws is not inconsistent with the freedom of

man, does the admission of the supernatural as an element in the

facts which come under our notice conflict with scientific laws, so

that it must be rejected at once? or is the sphere of the super-

natural, so called, a different one, like that of man’s will and

reason, so that inductive science may pursue its work undisturbed

in its own sphere, leaving the other to its own special students, _

but accepting conclusions in the moral sphere, as mankind in gen-

eral accept those of the scientific expert.

From the oldest historical records down to the contemporary

witness of some leaders in natural science, concerning wonderful

events occurring in England or the United States, we find a series

of such marvels recorded, some having a very high degree of

Nature and the Supernatural. 67

attestation in their favor, and somelittle, if any; the latter chiefly

showing a predisposition on the part of many or all to accept the

truth of such narratives, which predisposition is itself a psycholog-

ical fact and demands investigation. Butall these narratives have

the common ground that they are referable to no well established

rules of the phenomenal world which surrounds us, and some of

them are so different from ordinary experience as to excite our

wonder and tax our powers of belief in the highest degree, even

if they are not at once dismissed as unworthy of a rational man’s

attention.

Some of these facts, so called, are denominated “‘ miracles,” and

are viewed with reference to moral purposes and treated as evi-

dences of a Divine revelation or of some moral truth. But the

events recorded have their scientific relations, because phenomena

of nature are said to have been presented to human senses; and

they have their philosophical relations, because the asserted facts,

whether true or mere inventions of fancy, call for rational expla-

nation. Now my proposition is, that neither science nor philos-

ophy give any antecedent reasons, any @ priord ground, for

rejecting facts of this nature. The question is simply one of their

historical evidence, and must be referred to that barfor judgment.

When criticism has sifted the evidence and given its verdict, if

that verdict be favorable, science may examine the facts so far as

the experience of others can be examined; science, if the antece-

dents can be repeated, may verify the results (if the antecedents do

not admit of repetition the results cannot be verified); and phi-

losophy will try to explain the facts. If the testimony is rejected

as insufficient, there will be no case to come before this court, but

the claimant will not have been pre-judged.

And furthermore, that the historical facts should be reconcil-

able with philosophy and science, it will not be necessary that my

view of the case be demonstrated to be correct. If only it bea

possible one, then also the reconciliation will be possible, and my

end will be attained. hee

Let me repeat then, more fully, what I wish to exclude from

our discussion : (1) the credibility of the asserted facts; (2) their

value, if true, as evidences of any moral or religious truth ;

68 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, ‘and Letters.

(8) I wish also to exclude any question whether some or many

narratives of wonderful events found in ancient and Oriental

sources may be presumed to be poetic and allegorical presenta-

tions of moral truth, e. g., the story of the tempting of man by a

being in the form of a serpent, or that of the Hebrew, Jonah.

One single narrative found in the Christian New Testament, and

narrated as an actual occurrence, or one of the marvelous experi-

ences of a distinguished English naturalist, is sufficient to deter-

mine the question before us.

For the purpose of our discussion, then, it will be expedient to

admit, hypothetically, the narrative as a statement of facts which

actually occurred, 2. e., of sensible phenomena stated, not scien-

tifically, which statement would assign the facts to a known law,

but as they would naturally be reported by honest and intelligent

eye-witnesses, telling what their eyes saw, their ears heard or

their hands handled. It is, of course, at once open to remark

from the scientific point of view, that the subjective impression of

the phenomenon, together with the ordinary and accepted inter-

pretation of it, is all that any man can report, and for all practical

purposes it is sufficient. Philosophy and science proceed further,

to some explanation, partial at least, of the marvelous occurrence.

Tor example: if, as one narrative states, the commander of an

army made a prayer that the sun might stand still, and the narra-

tive be not poetical imagination,’ but a historical statement, the

phenomenon which followed is all that can be attested. There is

not, necessarily, declared to have been a suspension of the sun’s

daily motion around the earth or any other scventific explanation

of what the eyes saw.

This being premised concerning historical modes of narration,

I must assume some propositions as postulates, without attempting

any proof of them ; for some are needed, otherwise we could never

find a beginning for our investigation.

(1) The world of nature is known to us as phenomena, infinite

in number, and, potentially, infinite in variety ; phenomena empi-

1 As in the Chanson de Roland.

Nature and the Supernatural. 69

rically known, i. e., known only in and through our senses, inner

and outer.

(2) Laws of nature are rules for us, the discoveries of our under-

standing that there is such harmony among the facts as we view

them, that they can be classified. These laws are, objectively,

incomplete registers, extending only to as many facts as have come

under our notice; but experience finds them serviceable in antici-

pating facts of a similar kind. And the rational principle of the

uniformity of nature, which is given by our reason, and not merely

by empirical observation, and which is rationally grounded on

the one unchanging nature of the cause which, or the being who,

produces the phenomena, and which is confirmed by experience,

leads us to expect similar facts in the future. Our confidence

being justified, the rule is verified.

But there is room for more, possibly for higher, i. e., more gen-

eral laws in nature, which may or may not be discovered hereafter.

These cannot contradict those already discovered, though in par-

ticular application they may appear to contravene the laws already

known, by counteracting their results.

(8) It is our mind, then, which discovers an underlying unity,

an “order of nature,”’ and presumes it where it is not yet proved.

This, also, must be deemed to be objectively rational, or the pro-

duct of intelligence. For what reason discovers is itself rational ;

our reason connects the phenomena, not arbitrarily, but because

of a rational order in them.

(4) Farthermore, such unity, such order, such connection of

antecedent and consequent, such mechanical conjunction of parts,

such continuity of force (whatever that may be), seen to be al-

ways changing in application, but so far as we can discover,

always equal in amount; these, on which are based the highest

laws of physics, are so invariable that the mind cannot conceive

them to be otherwise. We must assume them to be established

principles in the existing order of facts. One in old times who

- believed the facts to proceed from a spiritual source, without any

scientific theory of the conservation of energy, said: “‘ With Him is

no variableness, neither shadow of turning.” And another said:

‘He hath given them a law which cannot be broken.”

70 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

(5) A new fact presented to our senses, or duly vouched for, if

not explicable by known laws, is not to be rejected. It may

hastily be assumed to contradict a law or the order of nature,

when, in truth, it is merely incapable of being referred to any

known combination of forces. The facts related in connection

with what is called “spiritualism,” if they were duly attested,

would furnish a very striking illustration of this scientific principle.

Oontradiction properly applies to universal principles of reason,

not to limited empirical rules which may be, and which are, con-

travened by others. A cause operating with no effect is a contra:

diction in thought and in words. So is an effect without any

adequate cause. But the contradiction is not empirical; for in

experience we see apparent failure, and similar effects fol-

lowing upon various antecedents.

(6) Lassume, also, as a postulate the existence of spiritual

substances, human and superhuman, which are capable of modi-

fying material phenomena, through combinations of what are called

material forces (whatever these may be), if not otherwise. (It is

possible, indeed, that that purely metaphysical notion called

“ force,’ is the sensible operation of that unknown substance

called “ spirit.”’)

Natural science may say that the existence of spiritual beings

is not proved, not even the existence of spiritual substance called

ego in man. But neither is their existence disproved, nor can it be.

The utmost that positivism can assert, is that their existence is

beyond the reach of investigation and knowledge. But since

this postulate is not unscientific, contradicts no known principle

of nature and reason, and simply begs the ex/sience of such beings

without a knowledge of their nature, which latter is what positiv-

ists dispute, I have a right to employ it as a hypothesis, and this

is all that I require, in proving that wonders in ancient or modern

times are not antecedently incredible, nor to be rejected as con-

tradicting what we know.’

1 But I ought to add that this postulate of a free spirit implies that its

actions and its laws, even if they can be emperically known, do not strictly

come under the province of scientific phenomenal induction, where all

seems to be necessitated, and every antecedent to have its invariable conse-

Nature and the Supernatural. oe

IL.

These postulates being premised, I would at once remark that

it may be, indeed, possible for the believer in a Creator and

Ruler of the world to suppose his immediate interference in the

empirical order of the phenomena, his special operation without

the empirical antecedents which we ordinarily see in nature. I

have nothing to do with that explanation of what are called

“miracles.” Ionly remark that the question is then altogether

removed from the sphere of science, and no reconciliation, I

think, is to be sought for. Aga thoughtful scientist once said to

me, ‘I keep my faith in one pocket, my science in another, for I

find it necessary to keep them apart.” It seems to me strange that

truths should be in such an awkward position, especially if any

one have reason to believe that empirical laws are the operation

of an unseen Ruler of the universe teaching us the invisible

things which we could not otherwise comprehend.

But, dismissing the question as not before us, I fail to find in

any of the facts, commonly received as true, any need of such a

divorce from science. It is now generally admitted, and has been

admitted by careful thinkers in past ages also, that nothing occurs

contrary to the order of nature. I may refer to former believers in

what are called “ miracles,” because they would be likely to deny

it if any philosophers did. But Augustine’ and Thomas A quinas*

argue that nothing can happen contrary to the order of nature ;

for, they say, nature is the product of an unseen Being who can

not contradict himself. So I suppose we may hold this as practi-

cally undisputed. But the proposition contains a term which

calls for definition.

In common acceptation “ nature” seems to signify:

(1) The sensible phenomena which we group under the name

of matter.

quent. I grant, however, that we cannot conceive of contradiction between

these two, sc., the freedom of spirit and the necessity of nature, or of any

violation of empirical laws. I cannot stop to discuss this inference from my

sixth postulate; tut we must have some common ground to stand on and to

start from; I ask for this.

18. Aug. contra Faust., XX VI, 3; XXIX, 2.

2Sum. Theol., I, 105-6.

72 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

(2) The forces which our mind discovers to be working

changes in these phenomena.

(8) The intelligence which our mind also discovers in the unity,

order and adaptation of these phenomena when viewed as a whole

consisting of parts infinite in number and variety.

Force may be only the operation of an intelligent cause, and

so the two latter may be regarded as due to the influence of a

spiritual being working in the sensible world. In the potentiality

of material things are these sensible results, and possibly more

which is now inconceivable, but active intelligence may be

needed, as Aristotle long ago pointed out, to produce these results.

If we thus define nature, when most unusual and marvelous

facts are related to us by eye-witnesses, there are various possible

hypothezes :

(1) They are brought about by some one whose extraordinary

insight into nature’s laws places him far in advance of his age,

and enables him to produce results which even now we cannot

explain; just as if, one hundred years ago, a man in New York

had related an audible conversation held with another in San

Francisco.

(2) The deeds were superhuman, though not supernatural in

any other sense of the word, z. e., according to my sixth postulate,

they were such as spiritual beings of a higher order than man

may accomplish within the order of nature. Forces, as they are

called, were combined to produce results which we may never be

able to reach. For example, man can only affect nature, so far

as we now know, through his own organism; but there is no

antecedent impossibility in the thought of spiritual beings of a

higher order having a wider sphere of influence.

(8) The deeds are “ supernatural.” But here again we meet

with an equivocal term. The supernatural, as Kaut points out

in his “ Beweisgrund zu einer Demonstration des Daseyns Gottes”

(1763), may be, (a) added qualities, properties or forces (which, for

our purpose, are one), imparted to substances already in existence.

I have never heard any reason why science and philosophy

should pronounce this a prior’ impossible, although it is certainly

very improbable, and perhaps removes a fact, however well at-

tested, from scientific thought or investigation. For modern

Nature and the Supernatural. 13

physics seem to show that it would involve a modification of the

whole universe, viewed as a mechanism of mechanically conjoined

parts, which is very hard to receive. .

(5) The supernatural means an increment or diminution of

some existing force in its relations to others, as if a man were sus-

pended in the air or walked on the water, through his being spe-

cifically lighter than he was before; or as if, which as one theolo-

gian of high repute asserts,’ babies are lighter when awake than

asleep, through the influence of their spirit.

This also, I think, cannot be pronounced a priori impossible,

though the difficulty is the same as before.

where qualities, properties, or forces remaining unchanged, the

method, connection or intelligible bearing, and consequent result,

of existing forces, are different from what the laws of material

nature, by themselves, would produce. Here, of course, we are

carried back to the first and second hypothesis concerning mar-

velous events, sc., that they are the effects of the action of man’s

Spirit, or some other spirit, upon the phenomenal world. But

here we view the free spirit operating upon nature (which is not

free), as from without and from above. It may be the finite spirit

making use of powers supplied by the infinite one, as when the

free will of man introduces supernatural results into nature by

freely combining agents, bringing forces into special application

and producing intelligible results. We are so familiar with these

that we do not ordinarily call them supernatural, since in com-

mon application the word may mean almost anything that is ex-

tremely unfamiliar and wonderful; and yet these results may be

widely different from anything which nature itself would have

produced. Such are, the mule among beasts, the gardener’s

flowers, the diverted water-courses, the rough made smooth, the

crooked straight, the high places laid low, and rock and swamp

made to bloom like Dante’s terrestrial Paradise.

If, then, any one find it not unscientific or unphilosophic to recog-

nize a conscious being of infinite wisdom, it will not be unscien-

1The present (1880) Archbishop of Dublin.

74 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

tific or unphilosophic to assume the possibility of his doing, on a

limitless scale, what we do on the smallest, without altering, any

more than we do, one law, force, property, or attribute which, on

that theory, has been his own perpetual working from the begin-

ning of the world. |

(4) Lastly, the supernatural, as a notion of our minds, might

mean that which I, for my part, would be inclined to regard as a

purely negative notion, and no-positive thought at all, viz. : what

follows no law of material nature, but is an immediate operation

of a supreme being, without material antecedents or any medium

whatsoever. ‘This is what Spinoza discussed as an interruption

of the order of nature, and tried to show to be impossible.

Returning to the formally supernatural, I may observe that it

finds its rational harmony and unity with the natural; first, be-

cause, as stated, the forces, attributes or properties of things re-

main unchanged; secondly, because the adaptations, ends and

moral relations of thiags are similar. I mean that man, by his

free spirit, does similar things to what nature does. Whether

this remark apply to neo-platonist wonders of old, and spiritualist

wonders of recent days, I will not inquire. But Iremember that

one who, as Sir William Hamilton says, would have been the

greatest of philosophers had he not been greatest in another

sphere, notices that the historical wonders recorded in the chris-

tian sacred books are strictly analogous to those which are always

produced.’ And this remark will illustrate my meaning to any

one who admits adaptations, ends, and moral relations as existing

in the present order of nature.

Consider, e. g., an earthquake or the Chicago fire. The phe-

nomenal sequence can be investigated according to known laws.

it proves to be a chain of a number of links practically infinite.

The intelligible or moral end, if such exist, does not come under

the province of phenomenal induction. If it exist, it may be

sought for, but by the aid of suitable principles, not by scientific

induction.

A mano may knowin himself, in his own conscious life, moral

Hts) aus, les Aeibng INES

Jature and the Supernatural. 15

results from a fire or from illness. He may discover these in the

history of a community, as he does again when that community,

-accumulating wealth, becomes dissolute and luxurious, which is

a moral consequence from physical antecedents (not necessary,

like physical sequences); or, by war, is reduced to poverty, with

certain other moral results. :

When we look merely at the scientific sequence of phenomena

these results may be said to be accidental, or contingent, but there

they are, and the explanation of them involves the prior question

whether, as some of the ancient philosophers agreed, there is an

intelligent providence in nature, adapting physical consequents to

moral results.

Our search for a definition of the supernatural bas landed us in

the providential, which latter is surely an admissible scientific

hypothesis. And what does the supernatural add? Or is

the providential itself supernatural, as something swperadded,

upon nature, and vice versa, except that a certain element

of unusualness is added? The answer must be deferred. But

let us observe that if the providential is not in nature, cadit

queestio. lf it be present, we may call all this moral adaptation

supernatural, as not directly implied in the physical laws, nor

capable of reduction under them.

ILUL.

Proceeding now to the proof of my main proposition. I rest it

on the following principles:

(1) Appearances or events, no matter what they may be, common

or most rare and strange, may have various antecedents, known o7

unknown. Science proceeds with sure steps from antecedent to

consequent. Hor each cause has some certain invariable effects.

But it is otherwise in going back from observed results. We

must assume physical antecedents, or rather, combinations of

them, we are never absolutely certain what they are. Various

causes, infinite combinations of them, may produce a given effect.

For example, the so-called ‘‘ diluvial scratches ” are now referred

to the action of glaciers. An antecedent is found to have existed,

a sufficient one, but a different one from what was assigued only

76 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

afew yearsago. It is adopted as a working hypothesis, and it

answers every purpose; but itis liable to be replaced by other

antecedents, as it has itself replaced the theory of deluges. The

raising of a body in the air, or its resting on the surface of water

may be due, not to a suspension of the law of gravitation, or to a

change in the specific gravity of elements, but to the unknown at-

tractive or repulsive force called magnetism, to other unknown

forces, or even, conceivably and within the potentialities of mat-

ter, to the influence of a spiritual substance on that body, which

latter would not be, any more than the former, a suspeasion of

nature’s law, or an interference in nature’s sequences, which might

go on as usual. ‘The attested fact must be tested asothers are, by

the rules of testimony; it must not on a priori grounds, at least,

be rejected. Hxperience informs us of the frequent fact of

spirit influencing matter, while the same experience points to an

unbroken chain of physical antecedents. What, then, may nota

more powerful spirit, if it exists, effect upon that purely potential

and passive thing called matter? What unimagined and unim-

aginable powers, lying dormant in it, may not be awaked by the

energetic touch of vivifying spirit ?

All this may be called wilful fancy, not based on experience,

and not verifiable by repeated experiment. To which I reply, that

the asserted event is itself a fact of experience narrated by wit-

nesses, while the verification, the repetition of it, supposes that

we are able, (1) to explain the event by giving all the antecedents,

and so (2) to reproduce or find them, which is precisely what we

may be unable to do. In this case we may not know by observa-

tion, but will certainly have no warrant for rejecting the observa-

tion of other men. In fact we are obliged, in thousands of cases,

to rest contented with the observations of other men, and may

have no hesitation in doing so, even if only one man has observed

the fact, and we think we can trust him.’

17 know a scientist of many years’ experience, who tried to verify certain

reported observations on “ vortex-rings,”’ and saw hundreds of experiments

give a different result. He did not dispute the asserted fact, but, I suppose,

assamed, rather, that the antecedents in his experiments were different and

produced a different result.

Nature and the Supernatural. — (7

The verifications now before us do not, indeed, suppose a costly

apparatus, excessively difficult experiments, with results requir-

ing most delicate powers of observation. Orif the question lay

between different hypotheses in accounting for the same fact, ex-

amination by scientific experts might be deemed a sine qua non.

But the facts submitted to us by testimony are simply observa-

tions of our senses in which all men are equal; while on the other

hand the fact that free spirit is concerned, and moral conditions

therefore requisite, may make the coincidence of antecedents

excessively rare, while yet the results, when they do occur, will

be patent to every man of common sense who has the eyes and

ears that belong to the whole human race. Repeated failures of

‘‘ spiritualists,” therefore, cannot negative any well-attested obser-

vation, if it be justly deemed above suspicion.

(2) In the second place, inductive science ascends along a chain of

physical antecedents which rs, practically, of an infinite number of

links, and which has no place for mind anywhere in the series. Its

end is never reached, possibly, never can be reached; if, indeed,

it should not eventually be found to be a circular chain, which

consequently has no end at all.

But mind, if you grant its existence, is known to modify re-

sults, without entering as one linkin thischain. The very freedom

of mind renders it impossible that it should so enter. How this

can be no one, I believe, has thus farexplained. The fact is one

of observation. You may, observing my body as an object ex-

ternal to yourself, see the motion of my finger, and then proceed

inductively to contraction of the muscles which you cannot see, to

nerve- power, brain stimulus, nutrition of brain, blood, chyle,

bread and beef, grass and carbonic acid,— equal energy in all

these — and you may end no one knows where. You cannot in-

sert mind anywhere in that chain, nor find physical force aug-

mented or diminished by it. You cannot know what I know in

my own consciousness, that I freely willed to move my finger.

If there is no such thing as free mind, cadit qyucestio once more ;

but it was my pestuiate.

I am not concerned with the explanation of the apparent para-

dox, nor with the question which Kantasks and thinks that

78 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

he answers, ‘‘ whether an effect determined according to nature’s

laws can at the same time be produced by a free agent?” But

there is the fact, mind modifies the force or energy in bread and

beef for a new and sensible result. Similar modifications, there-

fore, are possible elsewhere.

I will take another example, and one which will illustrate other

prepositions of mine beside the one immediately before us. A

man receives a letter or reads an article in the newspaper, and

then sends a bullet into the breast of the man who wrote the

words. Physical science calculates the force of the bullet, of the

powder, of the spring of the pistol, of the finger, of the brain, as

we may suppose, and soon. But the reading of that letler was an

act of mind: and mind supplied the motive for the act, but the

motive adds nothing whatever to the physical force. There is

nothing in mind which can be inserted into the chain of physical

antecedents. Motives, like moral results, belong to another

science, having its own laws, which do not interfere at all with

those of natural science, although physical results are modified in

the most remarkable manner.

(8) Thirdly, my argument compels me to note that the narra-

tors of the marvels to which I have referred have no occasion to

offer any theory concerning these results, or, if they do offer one,

we are not concerned with that in ‘our question of the a priori

credibility of the facts. Mr. Crooke’s mode of accounting for

‘(spiritual ” phenomena is quite another matter. One narrative puts

the subject on its proper footing where a man says, “One thing I

know, that whereas I was blind, now I see.” ‘The only theory,

so far as | know, which the narrators offer in the Christian sacred

books, is that of the moral end and bearing of the events which

they describe, or what we find also in much Greek philosophy,

and may call the providential character of the events, which, of

course, would not essentially distinguish them from ordinary oc-

currences. But witk this, science, as such, has nothing to do.

T have only occasion to refer to it as illustrating my proposition

that witnesses of wonderful events can only give us their sensible

impressions. For example, dwelling on this providential charac-

ter of events, going back, therefore, to the first cause, and leaving

Nature and the Supernatural. 19

out of view all physical antecedents because the writer was not

interested in them, one says that a free spirit sends the rain, and

makes the wind blow; but, on special occasions, a man is said to

have prayed and the rain came; and the east wind is said to have

driven back the waters of the sea at the head of the gulf, so that

fugitives might pass. What preceded in the chain of physical

sequences the narrator does not pretend to say, because he is not

a scientist. If we infer that he meant that there were no antece-

dents, and so dispute his narrative on a prior grounds, we are

putting our own inferences into what he says. Some people have

regarded nature as a machine moving on of itself, and, occasion-

ally, not doing all that it ought; whereupon the maker of it steps

in and adjusts it for a special work. And while this seems to be

irrational, we read historical statements by the lght of this pre-

tended explanation, and judge them accordingly. There is not

the slightest evidence that the observers of the events had their

vision clouded by any such hypothesis, as a man might go to see

what some scientists have described as “spiritual manifestations,”

with his mind made up in advance, and, consequently be nota

clear-headed and clear-sighted observer of what was under his

nose.

In a simpler age, without any scientific theory, the historian

may relate both familiar and strange events with the same direct

reference to the primary, efficient and final cause, and none at all

to physical antecedents. The antecedents of the Chicago fire are

known ; its moral bearings, if it have any, are matters of inference

and analogy. But the antecedents of the destruction of the fer-

tile plains on the lower Jordan where the Dead Sea now lies one

thousand, three hundred feet below the Mediterranean, are not

known, and the ancient narrator, whoever he was, takes the live-

liest interest in its moral bearings. But, if his narrative be other-

wise credible, we are not obliged to assume that he said that

physical antecedents were not in their place, and so reject his

story on that account. |

80 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

IV.

But it may be said that these are natural events, while others

which are narrated in the same manner are unnatural and there-

fore impossible. Such, e. g., it may be said, are some of the

‘spiritualist’ wonders, or the ‘“‘ miracles” at Knock, in Ireland, ©

or, again, the story that the touch of a man’s hand, or even his

shadow, cured the sick. Here, it may be said, is no ‘‘natural”’

connection of antecedent and consequent. But it would be well

to define precisely what we mean by “unnatural.” (1) It cannot

very well mean what is incapable of explanation. For no one

explains how quinine cures malarial fever; yet one does not, on

that account, call the cure unnatural. (2) It cannot mean an

effect which is without any physical antecedent, for physical ante-

cedents, such as a shadow or a touch, may chance to have been

observed in very marvelous cases, like those just referred to.

(8) It ought not to mean a violation of nature’s laws, for that

would be begging the question which is the very subject of our

discussion. ‘‘ Unnatural,” therefore, can only mean very unfa-

miliar, and that the particular antecedent mentioned, if we see it

repeated under other circumstances, is not followed by the same

effect. A most unscientific mode of thought, even if the best of

scientists fall into it. A scientific treatise, indeed, ought to give

all the antecedents; an unscientific observer mentions only what

he happens to see, though his narrative may imply many other

antecedents, as the ordinary stories of spiritualists, and those

which I have just referred to actually do imply. Isuppose that

shadows are not ordinarily followed by marvelous cures; and so,

without any reference to scientific principles, there is an inward

persuasion that there was no connection between the. antecedent

and the consequent, and the alleged event is pronounced “ unnat-

ural,” or else the attempt is made to refer it to some known law,

as if the measure of our knowledge were the measure of all

existing laws. But let an impartial inquirer supply, if he can,

all the antecedents, not only physical, but moral and _ spiritual,

before he decides that such a narrative is @ prior? impossible.

And he ought not to object to the introduction of moral and

Nature and the Supernatural. 81

spiritual elements as modifying the physical chain to which they

do not belong, since he probably knows consequents from bread

pills and Dr. Beddoes’ cure of paralysis by a thermometer placed

under the tongue, and, conversely, that the state of the soul will

arrest the process of physical antecedent to physical consequent,

so that medicine fails, as we say, to have its usual effect. And

yet it would seem improper to call this unnatural, or a violation

of nature’s laws.

The arresting of processes of dissolution and of the passage of

elements into new forms, followed by the rising again of the dead,

would be a most startling occurrence. We cannot easily, if at

all, imagine its antecedent. But the appearance of a new, intelli-

gent being in the physical universe (if my sixth postulate be

granted), is equally so. But we do not speak of a suspension of

laws or an ‘‘ interposition” of the first cause in this case. There

are known physical antecedents so far and so far only as the new-

born child belongs to the physical universe. But no explanation

of the sequence which results in an intelligent human being can

be given. In the other case also, if well attested, will be physi-

cal circumstances excessively rare ; conditions which put verifica-

tion out of the question. The fact, if received, is to be received

on other grounds than those of physical science; but the latter

has no valid objection to present. I might bring forward an

analogy, of course, a feeble one, but 2 supposable case. Let us

suppose the galvanic current applied to a nerve still sensitive, in

a body which has lost its general life. A new combination of

physical antecedents. produces a result which is entirely new and

startling. But the order of nature is not suspended, although

only a few persons can verify the fact by renewing the same con-

ditions. So also it is at least conceivable (and that is all that I re-

quire) that a spiritual power, granting its existence (my sixth

postulate), should preserve that sensitiveness in a body called

dead, and subsequently restore to it its soul. The latter 1s a sub-

stance known only by its recognizable phenomena, by its opera-

tions in, on and through the bodily organs. The body then will

resume its normal functions. The man will live again. There I

82 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

fail to see any suspension of nature’s physical chain of sequences.

Science, then, must relegate the fact, if a dead man is revived,

to what Bacon calls “instantiz monodice, ’or “ heteroclitss,” or

‘Grregulares ;’ not that they obey no rule, belong to no species,

but, for the present, they stand alone.

In fact, this perhaps will be one of the fruits of startling dis-

coveries in science, that our limited notions of the potentialities

of the world will be enlarged. Most grossly improbable as it

was, it was hardly received with suspicion by the majority, not

very long ago, that a human being could be thrown into a stupor

for a century and then revived. “There are more things in

heaven and earth than are dreamed of in your philosophy.”

As a test and illustration of these principles, I will take, be-

cause it happens to be found in a narrative tolerably well known,

the assertion that three men were put into a fiery furnace, and

not burned. It is a severe test, because we cannot imagine any

antecedents, and that which is said to have been there, the intense

heat, seems to have had no consequent in the case of these three

men; which, by itself, is inconceivable.

But observe that the existence of another spiritual being in

sensible form is attested by the writer. Now, as one man works

a seeming miracle by substititutiog electric currents for waves of

sound, so it is certainly conceivable that another freely acting

agent should modify or turn back ethereal waves of heat in an

unknown manner, secure admission of air, etc., by media abso-

lutely unknown to us, but the order and chain of nature remaining

precisely what they are, and, so far as we know, always have

been.

Much as the problem transcends our present knowledge, I do

not know what is unscientific in the hypothesis, or why, if duly

attested, the fact should not be referred to Bacon’s “ instantise

monodicee.”

Here I must conclude. I have endeavored to avoid theological

questions, and to confine myself to a philosophical and scientific

view. This, only, I would ask leave to add, with respect to the

presumed controversy between Christian faith and physical sci-

Nature and the Supernatural. 83

ences, of which so much has been said, that, so far as I know, and

I have examined the matter carefully, the positions I have laid

down do not essentially differ from those of that great philoso-

pher of the fifth century to whom Sir William Hamilton refers as

one of the greatest lights in the world of thought, who did his

work so long before physical sciences took their present stand, and

who has done more also than any other one man to formulate the

faith of western Christendom. For this two-fold reason, I beg

leave to refer tohim. 8S. Augustine offers no theory of the “ pre-

ternatural.” The alternatives which he recognizes are, accord-

ing to nature, and against it. The latter may be our ‘mode of

describing such facts as do not seem to follow such laws as we

know. But nothing can occur against nature’s highest laws,

for that would be against the first great Cause. He speaks of:

daily miracles, i. e., operations of unknown causes, and these are:

events (e. g., he mentions the wind and rain) which, if unfamiliar,

he says, would as certainly be called miracles as any which bear

the name, and yet we know that science is busy in tracing their

physical antecedents with fair success. S. Augustine accordingly

finds the special character of certain events in what he supposes:

to be the known moral end and bearing of them, not in an “inter.

ference,’ so called, of the worker in and through nature.

Finally, I can only say that it is not my aim to offer my hy-

pothesis as the correct explanation of certain events, among the

many marvelous records of history, which are recorded in books

held by some of us to be inspired. I have simply taken up a

problem of philosophy and science, and endeavored to analyze it

in the light of well established principles, and to show that there

is no @ prior’ ground in science or philosophy for rejecting any

such facts. Further than this I do not desire to go.

Tf I am not mistaken Mr. Huxley has taken some such position.

His reasons I do not know.

I will add also, since Mr. Kinnear’s paper in the Contemporary

Review for December, 1879, traverses in part the same ground

with mine, that what I have just submitted to the Academy was

completed before that number of the Review appeared. The fact

84 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

may increase the probability that the views now presented have

some rational foundation, or at least some claim to candid consid-

-eration.:

1 Dr. Bushnell [Nature and Supernatural], indeed, going bya similar route,

-arrives at the same conclusion; but without defining, he assumes the exist-

-ence of a personal Being, God, which for the purpose of my argument is not

necessary. I have had occasion to examine his work, however, only since

this paper was submitted to the Academy.

First French Foot-Prints Beyond the Lakes. 85-

FIRST FRENCH FOOT-PRINTS BEYOND THE LAKHS;

OR, WHAT BROUGHT THE FRENCH SO EARLY

INTO THE NORTHWEST?

Bry JAMES D. BUTLER, LL. D.

Copper mines in the north, and burial-barrows everywhere, be-

speak prehistoric races in Wisconsin. But in modern Wisconsin

there was little agricultural settlement before 1836, which we may

accordingly reckon its American birth year.

Between these two developments, however, there was a third, a

sort of midway station between the mound-builder or the Indian

and the Anglo-Saxon — namely, the Mrench period. This portion

of our annals seems worthy of more attention than it has yet.

received.

The French were early on Lake Huron, and even in Wiscon-

sin. ‘They were there before the cavaliers in Virginia, the Dutch

at Albany, and the Puritans of Boston had pushed inland much

more than a day’s journey. The Mississippi was mapped before

the Ohio. Champlain sailed on Lake Huron in 1615, only seven

years after the settlement of Quebec. A monk had arrived there

a month or two before Champlain.

On early maps the contrast between French knowledge and

English ignorance is at once plain to the eye. On the map drawn

by Champlain, in 1632, we see the Lakes which we call Ontario,

Huron, Superior and Michigan, while no one of them, nor indeed.

any river St. Lawrence, is discoverable on Peter Heylin’s atlas,

the one best known in London twenty years afterward. On the

blank, where those inland seas should have figured, we read the

words America Mexicana, as if Mexico had extended to Hudson’s.

Bay.

But while the English on the Atlantic coast were ignorant of

western geography, and before the French in Canada numbered:

ten thousand, Joliet and Marquette, in 1678, traversed Wisconsin

from lake to river. They were long supposed to be among the

earliest explorers of Wisconsin. In 1853, however, the Catholic

86 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

historian, J. G. Shea, pointed out in a volume of Jesuit Felations

the following words, written from Quebec to France, in 1640, by

Father Le Jeune: ‘“M. Nicollet, who has penetrated into the

most distant regions, has assured me that if he had pushed on

three days longer down a great river which issues from the second

lake of the Hurons (evidently meaning Lake Michigan), he would

have found the sea.”

The word Messissippt, meaning ‘‘ great water,’’ was ambiguous,

and, though really denoting a river, might well be mistaken for a

sea, especially by an adventurer who knew the sea to be in that

direction, and who believed it by no means remote.

On the strength of this Jesuit testimony, Parkman remarks:

‘“As early as 1639, Nicollet ascended the Green Bay of Lake

Michigan and crossed to the waters of the Mississippi.” This was

within nine years after the founding of Boston, which claims to be

oi all northern cities the most ancient. |

But in the lowest deep a lower deep still opens. According to

the latest researches of Benjamin Sulte, Nicollet was in Wiscon-

sin four or five years earlier than 1639. He started west from

‘Canada in 1634, and returned the year following. The best

Canadian investigators assure us that he never traveled west

again, but, marrying and becoming interpreter at Three Rivers,

below Montreal, he remained there or thereabouts thenceforward

till his death. All agree that Nicollet visited Wisconsin. If it

is proved that he was not here in 1639 or afterward, he must have

been here before. There is some reason for holding that Nicollet

had penetrated into Wisconsin at a date still earlier than 1684.

Chicago is: not known to have been visited by any Huropean

before 1678. In the autumn of that year Marquette, returning

from his voyage down the Mississippi, was conducted from the

Illinois river by Indians to that spot as affording the shortest port-

age to Lake Michigan. The next year that missionary, on a coast-

ing tour along the lake, after a voyage of forty-one days from

Green Bay, reached Chicago,— which was then uninhabited. As

sickness disabled him from going further, bis Indian oarsman

built him a hut, and two French traders who already had a post a

few leagues inland, ministered to him till the next spring, when

First French Foot-Prints Beyond the Lakes. 87

he so far recovered as to proceed to St. Joseph. Another Jesuit

was also met at Chicago by four score warriors of the Illinois

tribe in 1676.

Three years afterward, in 1679, La Salle found no inhabitants

there. On his map made the next year he described it as a port-

age of only a thousand paces, yet thought it in no way suited

for communication between the lake and Illinois river, as the latter

at low water was for forty leagues not navigable. Within two

years after that, however, in 1681, he preferred this route for his

own passage. On the sixteenth of December starting from Chi-

cago with canoes on sleds, he arrived at the mouth of the Mis-

sissippi in one hundred and seven days,— that is on the sixth of

the following April.

The Chicago portage was traversed by Tonty, La Salle’s most

trusted and trust-worthy lieutenant, June, 1683, and by Durantye in

1685. La Salle’s brother detained there in 1688 by a storm,

made maple sugar, and in one hundred and ten days after leaving

its harbor, had made his way to Montreal.

After eleven years more, St. Cosme found a house of the

Jesuits there established, at which, as at a sort of post office,

Father Gravier obtained in 1700, letters from Paris. From that

point La Salle had written a letter to La Barre, Governor of

Canada, in 1683, and in the map by Franquelin, royal hydro-

grapher at Quebec, dated 1684, eighty houses,— meaning wig-

wams, are set down on the site of Chicago. It was then viewed

as a northern out post of La Salle’s central castle — the Rock of

St. Louis,— that marvellous natural fortress which the French

explorer found ready to his hand,— “his wish exactly to his

heart’s desire,”.now called Starved Rock, near the confluence of the

Big Vermilion with the Illinois river, a few miles west of Ottawa.

All the way down from this era of La Salle the French as

rovers, traders, settlers, soldiers and missionaries in our North-

west, are traceable generation after generation. The chain is as

unbroken as that of apostolical succession has ever been fancied.

How shall we account forthe phenomenon IJ have now sketched,

that the French penetrated so far inland so early and so persist-

ently? My answer to this question is implied in the words Fun,

Faith, Fur, False Fancies, Finesse and Feudalism.

88 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

Nicollet, it is admitted, was west of Lake Michigan before La

Salle was born. What brought him thus early into the heart of

the continent ?

My answer is that he came for sport; yes, just for the fun of

the thing — or the romance and exhilaration of adventure.

Where is the community in which it is not proverbial to this

day that worlds of fun lie in camping? What amount of civili-

zation can kill off love for a feast of tabernacles, or relish for

camp-meetings? What boy reads Robinson Crusoe without a

passion to ran away? Hunting, fishing, boating, discovering new

lakes and streams, new varieties of woodland and opening, attack-

ing or eluding antagonists — whether men or beasts — fire, frost,

flood, famine; ‘‘foemen worthy of their steel,’ for what man

that is young, strong and brave, must notthese excitements have

charms? When will the English give up their Alpine club? In

France no min was more of a sportsman than the King, Louis

XIV, and in his era especially, French country gentlemen spent

most of their time hunting and fishing. Accordingly for the French

those pursuits had dignified associations. The first French party

that ever wintered on the shore of Lake Hrie thus wrote home,

more than two centuries ago: ‘‘ We were in a terresirial paradise.

Fish and beaver abounded. Wesaw more than a hundred roe-

bucks in a single band, and half as many fawns. JBear’s meat

was more savory than any pork in France. We dried or buc-

caned the meat of the nine largest. The grapes were as large and

sweet as any at home. Weeven made wine. No lack of prunes,

chestnuts and lotus fruit all the autumn. None of us were home-

sick for Montreal.” Far west was the happy hunting ground of

Indian fable. There too the French found it in fact.

The late Judge Baird of Green Bay used to describe as the hap-

piest three weeks of his life, the time when, taking his family and

friends, with a crew of Indian oarsmen, he voyaged in a bark

canoe from our great lake to our great river, along the track of

Joliet and Marquette. Every day the ladies gathered flowers as

fair as Proserpine plucked in the field of Hnna, while the men

were never without success as fishers and hunters. They camped,

usually early in the afternoon, wherever inclination was attracted

by natural beauty or romantic appearance. After feasting on

First French Foot-Prints Beyond the Lakes. 89

venison, fish and wild-fowl, they slept beside plashing waters till

roused by morning birds. At every turn in the rivers, new scen-

ery opened upon them. Overhanging groves, oak openings,

prairies, rapids, Baraboo bluffs, outcrops of rock, ravines, mouths

of branches, each was a pleasant surprise. That merry month of

May, 1830, recalled to the voyager, in the long lapse from youth

to age, no other like itself. How many would give half their

lives for such a wild-wood memory !

In the light of such an experience, it is easy to see show Nicol-

let was drawn on and on into the unknown west. No wonder

that, only ten years after Quebec was occupied, we find him, in

1618, wintering half-way from that new-born post to Lake Huron,

in the Isle of Allumette. He had no longing for the security of

dwellers beneath the guns of Quebec. Amid his perils he de-

spised them, as Caudle-lectured husbands despise those couples

who vegetate together for years without a cross word, but in such

a stupid style that they never know they are born.

Nicollet was a representative of a large element amorg French

Canadians. In 1609, at one of Chamrlain’s first interviews with

Indians from the remote interior, a young man of his company

had boldly volunteered to join them on their homeward journey,

and to winter among them. He remembered Pierre Gambie, a

page of Laudonniere in Florida, who being allowed to go freely

among the Indians, had become prime favorite with the chief of

the island of Edelano, married his daughter, and in his absence

reigned in his stead. Champlain’s retainer was among the first of

a class — up to everything, down to everything — who “‘ followed

the Indians in their roamings, grew familiar with their language,

allied themselves with their women, became oracles in the camp

and leaders on the war-path.”

Their fun was as fast and furious as Tam O’Shanter’s:

“ Kings may be great, but they were glorious,

O’er all the ills of life victorious.”

For them civilization was no longer either cold or hot — but so-

lukewarm that they spewed it out of their mouths. Something

of their feeling burned in their best historian, Francis Parkman,

90 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

who exchanged Boston for the Black Hills before one miner had

pushed into their fastnesses. His strongest youthful passion was

to share in unaltered Indian life, and his loudest ery was: ‘‘Sav-

agery, with all thy lacks I love thee still!”

Preference for Indian life has grown up even in Yankee captives,

and, what is most surprising, in females. .

A. well-known instance was the daughter of Williams — the

Massachusetts minister — who refused to be redeemed from cap-

tivity in a Canadian tribe. Some will suggest that having been

brought up in a parsonage of ‘grim and vinegar aspect, she

thought nothing could be more repulsive than a Puritan strait-

jacket. But many similar instances occurred during Bouquet’s

expedition west of the Ohio, which was undertaken in order to ~

rescue whites from Indian bondage. Several women, and those

not of ministerial families at all, when compelled to return to

white settlements, soon made their escape to the woods, prefer-

ring wigwams to their native homes. No thrice-driven bed of

down was so soft to them as a couch which, as their phrase was,

had never been made up since the creation. Many captive men,

when given up to Bouquet, and bound fast to prevent their es-

cape, sat sullen and scowling that they were forced back into

society.

In civilized society there was no sweet savor of romance for

“A wild and wanton herd,

Or race of youthful and unhandled colts.”

No wonder, then, adventurers into the great west, who would

rather be scalped at Mackinaw than live in Montreal, became a

permanent class. No wonder when La Salle, first of white men,

had burst into the heart of Illinois, six of his soldiers deserted,

and that as many more of his little band had ran away in the far

north. One of these last absconders was encountered by Henne-

pin in the wilds of Minnesota. Another in that region was a run-

away from Hennepin himself. Nothing less than throwing them-

selves overboard from all social restraints could give scope for

that superabundant vitality which philosophers hold is_pre-

eminently a French characteristic.

First French Foot-Prints Beyond the Lakes. or

The roving class was all the larger, because settled colonists

were vassals, both in soul and body. In Canada, individuals

existed for the government, not the government for individuals.

Cooped up in the dull exile of petty forts, their prayer was

that of the country mouse when entrapped in a city mansion —

“OQ give me but a hollow tree,

A crust of bread and liberty.”

La Hontan —a young officer fresh from France — thus wrote

home from Montreal: ‘A part of the winter I was hunting with

the Algonquins, the rest of it I spent here very disagreeably.

One can neither go on a pleasure party, nor play cards, nor visit

the ladies, without the curé preaching about it;.and masqueraders

he excommunicates. ”

Other writers add that no dances were allowed in which both

sexes took part.

Allowing dances to one sex only was about as satisfactory to

gay and festive youth as a father confessor’s permitting a fair

penitent to rouge only one side of her face; or letting out an

American lady to walk the Parisian boulevards only on condi-

tion that she never goes alone, never wears colors, and never looks

into ashop window. Anti-dancing laws —it is needless to add,—

were doubly vexatious to a Frenchman, since his feet when he’s

sleeping seem dreaming a dance.

Fathers who neglected to marry sons till they were twenty, or

daughters till they were sixteen, were fined. Bachelors were

barred out from the Indian trade, and even branded with marks

of infamy. ,

In Quebec chronicles for 1671 we read that Paul Dupuy, having

said that when the English cut off the head of Charles I. they did

a good thing, the council declared him guilty of words tending to

sedition, and condemned him to be led in ‘his shirt, with a rope

about his neck and a torch in his hand, frorn prison to the castle,

there to ask pardon of the king; to he branded on the cheek, set

in stocks, laid in irons, ete.

At the same period Louis Gaboury, charged with eatii ¢ meat

in Lent, was sentenced to be tied tnree hours to a stake, and then

92 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

on his knees to ask pardon at the door of the chapel. Swearers,

for the sixth offense, had the upper lip cut with a hot iron, and if

they still uttered oaths, had the tongue cut out altogether. Two

men were shot at (luebec for selling brandy to Indians.

Not a few French immigrants had been tramps in the old world,

and transportation to the new world gave them no new nature.

The Bohemian element was in them as an instinct, and was as

sure to come out by natural selection as ducklings hatched by a

hen are to take to water. The Saint Lawrence flowed in one di-

rection ; the sinful loafers steered in quite another.

Other Canadians had been convicts and so would naturally re-

gard all walls as stifling imprisonment. They were nota pious

race, but one prayer they never forgot, namely: ‘ From red-tape

and ritualism, good Lord, deliver us !”

An order of Indian Knights sprung up —young men who

thought nothing so fine as to go tricked out like Indians, and

nothing so attractive as Indian life; doing nothing, caring for

nothing, following every inclination, and getting out of the way

of all correction. This club may have been a natural reaction

from a society of matrons and maidens established to promote

gossip pure and simple. Meetings were held every Thursday at

which each member was bound by a gospel oath to confess — not

his own sins, but other people’s — that is, all she knew, alike good

and bad, regarding her acquaintance.

There is a physical reason why those who have learned to live

in the open air cannot live in houses. Sleeping under roofs they

exchange oxygen for miasma.

The Circassian mouvtain chief, Schamy!, when a Russian pris-

oner, was luxuriously housed, but at the end of a week told his

keepers he must commit suicide unless they would allow him to

lodge above the roof instead of under it. So, too, our Texan hero,

Sam Houston, when, after open air campaigns, he entered the

hall of congress, compared himself to a mouse under an air

pump.

“Yes, there is sweetness in the prairie air,

And life that bloated ease can never hope to share.”

First French Foot-Prints Beyond the Lakes. 93

During several years of frontier life, I have constantly fallen in

with frontier men, who hover in the wilderness beyond the ut-

most verge of settlement. Villages, or at least ranchmen, follow

them but only, as Paddy prays the blessing of the Lord may fol-

low his enemiesall the days of their lives— that is, so as never to

overtake them at all. Change of base and new departures are as

familiar to them as to any politician. The only grain they ever

sow is wild oats.

The French found more fun in woodcraft than the Hnglish

could. ‘The one could thrive where the other would starve. It

is an old saying that a French cook will make more out of the

shadow of a chicken than an English one can of its substance.

When a French army, near Salamanca, was cut off from supplies

for a week by Wellington, he thought it a miracle that they did

not surrender. The truth was that they had subsisted all the

while on acorns. For more than a week Nicollet’s only food was

bark, seasoned with bits of the moss which the Canadians named

rock-tripe. But he was not starved out. The Roman empire

spread widely east and west, but never very far north. The fact

is strange. To account for it, some say that Roman noses were

too long, and so were nipped off by Jack Frost. The French are

a snub-nosed race and so could better brave blizzards.

There is a strange elation when we discover with how many so-

called necessaries we can dispense, and while having nothing, yet

possess all things which we absolutely need. Detecting new

capabilities, whether of daring doing or enduring, we seem to

become new beings and of a higher order. We discover new

Americas within ourselves.

According to the Greek sage, he is nearest the Gods who has

fewest wants. In proportion, then, as we become self-sufficing;

we approximate to the Gods. Not without exultation did the

adventurer learn to make all things of bark —not only baskets,

dishes, boats and beds, but houses and food. Every tree, when

he perceived its bark to be rougher and thicker on the north side,—

became for him a compass-plant. In his whole manner of life

“the forester gained,’ says Parkman, ‘‘a self-sustaining energy,

as well as powers of action and perception before unthought of,—

94 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

a subtlety of sense more akin to the instinct of brutes than to hu-

man reason. He could approach like a fox, attack like a lion,

vanish like a bird.” ;

The Homeric and earliest ideal of an adventurer, single-handed,

into unknown regions, was Ulysses. It is true he goes grumbling

all through the Odyssey,— but for all that he is happier to the

very core than he could be with Circe or Calypso in any castle of

Indolence. He thrives under evil, and at every new stage of his’

wanderings has new greatness thrust upon him. More than this:

According to Dante, who met him in the Inferno, he soon tired

of the Ithacan home he had sought so earnestly, and quitted it

for enterprises more distant and perilous than ever.

Many of the early French pushed westward in pilgrimages

longer and more varied than that of the most wide-wandering

Greek. Their motto was:

_ “No pent-up citadel contracts our powers,

But the whole boundless continent is ours.”’

They pushed into the heart of the continent faster and farther,

thanks to matchless highways,— I mean rivers and lakes,— styled —

by their wisest contemporary, Pascal, “roads which march and

carry us whithersoever we wish to go.” Thanks also to bark ca-

noes, they flew as on the wings of eagles into the recesses of the

west. When wishing to traverse Indian routes they had sense

enough to avail themselves of Indian boats, doing in Rome as Ro-

mans do. For nine dollars worth of goods the voyageurs bought

a bark twenty feet by two that would last six years. It would

carry four men and more than their weight in baggage, yet was

not too heavy for one man to carry across the portage between

river and river, or round rapids which no boat could climb. Hen-

_nepin’s bark weighed only fifty pounds. At night or in rains it

was a better shelter than a tent. Thus the boatman was as inde-

pendent as a soldier would be who could carry on his shoulders

not only his horse and baggage, but also his barracks. Previous

to the year 1678, no boat of wood had ever ascended above Mon-

treal. ‘The bark canoe of Judge Baird, of which I have spoken,

was on a larger scale — about thirty feet long and five broad. It

carried thirteen people and all their needments with ease.

First French Foot-Prints Beyond the Lakes. 95

Year after year La Salle risked life and lost fortune laboring

to build a forty ton vessel for descending the Mississippi. After

heart- breaking failures he trusted himself to a native canoe, and

thanks to this new departure, easily gained the goal of his ambi-

tion. _ Had he found the great river hedged up by Niagaras—as

was reported by natives—his progress would not have been

stopped. He could have carried his boat till his boat could carry

him. -

A man who riding for the first time in a cab and asked where

he was going answered, “To Glory!” spoke out the exultation

which thrilled every French adventurer with his face set toward

the western unknown, his hands skilled in paddling a bark canoe

and himself encumbered with no more baggage than the ship-

wrecked rascal who said he had lost everything except his

character.

Throughout the orient the name of doctor is a sesame open.

When Moslems overhear a traveler addressed as doctor they unbar

for him even their harems, no matter how often he tells them that

it is only in law or divinity or farriery, that he is a doctor.

Among savages everywhere every civilized man passes in spite

of himself for a physician. Relying on this reputation the early

French ventured into the infinite west. Nor was their quackery

less successful than that of an Hnglish monarch touching for the

king’s evil when

“Strangely visited people

All swollen and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,

The mere despair of surgery, he cures.”’

When Hennepin was a captive among the Sioux, whose blood

had before been drawn only by the sucking mouths of medicine

men, he bled their asthmatics, he treated other patients with a

confection of hyacinth (a sort of squills) and desperate cases with

orvietum, a theriac compounded of three score and four drugs.

The more ingredients the more certain, as men thought, the cure,

as the more bullets in a volley the more surely some of them will

hit. A decade earlier, Perrot having dosed a surfeited glutton

with the same theriac, had succeeded as well as the druggist, who,

When vox popult was prescribed, gave nux vomica. The next

96 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

night Perrot was waked by chiefs who came for more theriac.

His supply was so small that he only allowed them to hold their

noses over the vial. Theodor, however, proved a panacea. They

beat their breasts and declared that it had made them immortal.

For this sanitary smell they insisted on paying Perrot ten beaver-

skins. They believed, what no doctor has been able to beat into

Christian patients, that no medicine could do any good if it was

not paid for.

These patients were Miamis. The Sauks, on the other hand,

thought no medicine efficacious unless it was bestowed without

money and without price. One of their tribe who had been badly

scalded, declared himself cured the moment he was presenta

with a gratuitous plug of tobacco.

Relish for the romantic was a considerable element even in mis-

sionary zeal. Thus Hennepin admits that a passion for travel and

a burning desire to visit strange lands had no small part in his

own inclination for missions.

Again, many early bush-rangers belonged to that class who

would rather reign in hell than serve in heaven. La Salle fell in

with one tribe in mourning for ,the death of a chief, and he said:

“Dry your tears! I will raise him from the dead. Whatever he

was to wife, children or tribe, that I will be, feeding them and

fighting for them. He is dead no longer.”’ Thereupon he was

hailed as chief. ast

Still others dashed among distant cannibals, in hopes, like Brig-

ham Young among Mormons, to become Gods on earth. It paid

for all privations to hear cringing Calibans cry out: “ We pray

thee be our God! We’ll fish for thee; we'll kiss thy foot.”

Saint Castine, who had nothing saintly but the name, roaming

with Indians not far from the seaport in Maine which keeps {his

name in memory, gained such a supremacy that his aboriginal as-

sociates deemed him the prince of the power of the air.

In 1688, Perrot having built a fort near the outlet of Lake

Pepin, paid a visit to the Sioux up the great river. He was

placed by them on their car of state, which was a buffalo robe.

He was thus lifted on high by a score of warriors, not like Sancho

Panza tossed in a blanket, but borne as reverentially as the Pope

First French Foot-Prints Beyond the Lakes. 97

on his sedia gestatoria, or portable throne, into the house of council.

There, holding a bowl of brandy which the Indians thought to

be water, he set it on fire. He thus made them believe that he

could at will burn up their lakes and rivers. A score of years

before,— certainly as early as 1665,— he had become a potentate

among Pottawatomies near Green Bay. Perrot was worshipped

with clouds of incense from a hundred calumets, because he

brought iron,— especially in the shape of guns and tomahawks.

The further west he went the more unheard of his iron and pow-

der, and the more they proved him a God.

One mode of reverence was to break off branches of trees and

sweep the path his feet were about to tread. But the divine honors

paid to Perrot were not always delightful. The Iowas, whom he

pronounces the greatest weepers in the world, wept most effusively

at his coming. Their welcome, he tells us, was bathing his face

with their tears— ‘“‘the effusions of their eyes, and alas! of their

mouths and noses too!”

Other French adventurers threw up rockets, and thus record the

sensation: ‘“‘ When the Indians saw the fireworks in the air and

the stars fall from heaven, the women and children began to fly,

and the most courageous of the men to cry for mercy and implore

us very earnestly to stop the play of that wonderful medicine.

Had there been any accidental explosion of chemicals so that

one of the braves was blown up, he would have deemed it all a

part of the show, and as soon as he caught breath would have

exclaimed: ‘ What next? What in the world will these magi-

cians do next ?’”

The simplest French conveniences were sublime in aboriginal

eyes. Tbe Mascoutins, when Perrot appeared among them, knew

no mode of producing fire except by rubbing two sticks together.

Such friction was ineffectual whenever the sticks were at all wet,

and they were often too damp to kindle—an Irishman would

say — till one had made a fire and dried them. Naturally, Per-

rot’s tinder-box was venerated as an angel from heaven. No

wonder that a hundred dozen of these Promethean fire-bringers

are set down in the outfit of La Saile. One of an antique pat-

tern, lately discovered in an Illinois cave, was shown me in

98 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

Ottawa. Possibly it is one of the twelve hundred imported by

La Salle. Had lucifers been known to the French, starting

camp-fires in a twinkling, they must have converted every Indian

into a fire-worshipper and conquered the continent. 3

The Indians wished that their children should grow up bald,

aside from scalp-locks. Their style of hair-catting had been to

burn childish scalps with red hot stones. Hennepin’s razor, —

though none of the keenest, was clearly a better depilatory, and

so was hailed as a miracle of mercy.

Nicollet met in council four thousand Wisconsin warriors, who

feasted on six score of beaver. He appeared before them in a

many-colored robe of state, adorned with flowers and birds.

Approaching with a pistol in each hand, he fired both at once.

The natives hence named him ‘thunder-bearer.’” Such a spec-

tacular display was in keeping with the policy which marked the

old French regime in two worlds, and which for centuries proved

equally sovereign in both. The apotheosis of Nicollet would

have been complete if he could have carried a Colt revolver —

the thunderbolt of Jove in the thimble of Minerva, omnipotent

as ever, yet so small that Cupid would steal it, as no longer too

heavy for him to lift or too hot for him to handle.

Of all Europeans the French only gained the affections of

natives. From the beginning they fraternized with them as the

British never could.

They never sold Indian captives for slaves on southern planta-

tions as the English did. Through hatred of New Englanders

fifty families of Indians there flying west became retainers of La

Salle, and some of them were his most trusty oarsmen and braves

in discovering the Mississippi. Four score years, said La Salle,

have we had Indian allies. Never has one of them proved false

to France. We can safely trust them with arms. From first to

last the Illinois tribes were faithful to the french. When the

French, after their loss of Illinois, went west of the Mississippi

in 1763, the Indians followed them. Lach tribe loved the French

with an affection so ardent as to be jealous, and strove to keep

them all to itself, resenting their dealing with any other tribe as a

sort of adulterous infidelity. For a score of years Nicholas

First French Foot-Prints Beyond the Lakes. 99

Perrot won golden opinions among the Outagamies. After his de-

parture they declared in council with the governor of Canada,

that their fathers having gone they had no more any breath, or

soul.

The French captivated the Indians and the Indians captivated

them. For them, then, there was a fullness of fun — yes paradise

where John Bull would have felt himself in such a purgatory that

he could not fare worse by going farther.

One Englishman who had been forced to make trial of savage

life, when asked how he liked it, answered: “ The more I see In-

dians, the better I love dogs.’ But amid the same horrors a

Frenchman enjoyed himself so well that he declares he was ready

to burn his cook books! What could Frenchman do more?

In no long time most northwestern tribes were tinctured with

French blood. Perrot treats of French among fugitive Sauteurs

on the south shore of Lake Superior as early as 1661. The

first permanent settler in Wisconsin, Charles Langlade, was

a French half-breed. So was the first squatter at Madison —

(long before the Peck family), St. Cyr, the only saint we could

ever boast. In 1816, when the United States forces took posses-

sion of Wisconsin, the natives being assembled for treaties, said:

“Pray do not disturb our French brothers.

Adventurers among western aborigines in time became far-

traders or interpreters and factors for such traders, as well as mis-

sionaries or other officials both military and civil. But their

first impulse to plunge into the depth of the wilderness, and to

abide there, was because they liked it. To their imaginations

forest-life was as charming as the grand tour of Hurope a genera-

tion ago to ours, or as is girdling the terraqueous globe at the

present day, or as roughing it on the Yellowstone to General

Sherman, or on the great divide to Lord Dufferin, or rounding

the world on horseback to Sir George Simpson, or Beltrami’s sol-

itary scamper to the sources of the Mississippi, or the three years

cruise of the Challenger to Lord Campbell, whose Log Letters

skimming off the cream of all climes and finding no drop sour,

cry out in every line, ‘‘O what Fun!” It was much more than

all this, and can only be compared to the wild dedication of him-

100 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

self to unpathed waters, undreamed shores and sands and miser- _

ies enough by Staniey, in quest of Livingston, or the sources of

the Nile and Congo.

Seekers of pleasure in the pathless woods followed Nicollet

into Wesconsin, as well as elsewhere in the Mississippi Valley.

Their race endured, and it still endures. Some survivals of it

were met with in the first decade of our century far up the Mis-

souri, by Lewis and Clark, and by Pike at the sources of the

Mississippi. Within the last ten years, the British Major Butler,

with whom I traveled down the Red River of the North in 1872,

encountered them on his pilgrimages throughout the great lone

land and the wild north land to the shores of the Pacific.

Enamoured of wild sports, the French more than two centuries

ago rushed from Lower Canada into the borders of the Upper

Lakes. They came the sooner thanks to unrivaled facilities for

boating, hunting and fishing,— to an appetite for open air which

grows by what it feeds on,— to their feeling at home in wigwams,

to their passion to break loose from law martial and monkish, and

to enjoy unbounded license, as well as to the pre eminence which

knowledge gave them among barbarians. To the love of fun,

then, and the full feast of it fresh as the woods and waters that

inspired it,— with which he could fill himself in western wilds,

we in Wisconsin owe the explorations of Nicollet and others of

like temper, and so our most ancient historic land marks. One

of the first French foundations here was laid in fun. Fun then

was fundamental.

But if fun led the way to exploring the far West, faith also

was there, and not least in Wisconsin, a French foundation.

Faith followed hard after fun, aud sometimes outstripped it.

The friar, Le Caron, was on Lake Huron before Nicollet had pene-

trated half way there. Nicollet lingered in the Isle of Allumette,

several hundred miles short of Lake Huron, till 1620. But,

five years earlier, mass had been already said on that lake by the

Franciscan with sandaled feet and girt with his knotted cord.

The monk’s passage had been paid by the governor, but he worked

his own passage and that bare-footed, since shoes would injure the

bark canoe. He thus wrote to his superior: ‘It would be hard

First French Foot-Prints Beyond the Lakes, 101

to tell you how tired I was with paddling all day among the In-

dians, wading the rapidsa hundred times and more, through mud

and over sharp stones that cut my feet, carrying the canoe and

luggage through the woods to avoid cataracts, and half starved

the while, for we had nothing to eat but porridge, of water and

pounded maize, of which they gave me a very small allowance.”

Through the winter of 1615 ina hermitage a thousand miles west

of Quebec which was itself an ultima Thule,— this friar was mak-

ing catechisms or struggling with the difficulties of the Huron

tongue, or expounding the faith in broken Indian, and by way of

object lesson showing ‘' four great likenesses of the Madonna sus-

pended on a cord.”

As early as 1614, when the French first ascended the Ottawa,

they planted crosses of white cedar on its shores and islands. In

1625 the Jesuit Brebeuf began a three years’ sojourn on Huron

waters. Onward from 1634 a permanent mission was maintained

there for fifteen years until the Hurons were scattered to the four

winds. Missionaries followed them in their dispersion. In sum-

mer plying the paddle all day or toiling through pathless thickets,

bending under a canoe or portable chapel heavy as a peddler’s

pack, veritable colporters, while famine, snow storms, cold, treach-

erous ice of the lake, smoke and filth were the luxuries of their

Winter wanderings, We underrate the arduousness of mission

journeys until we consider how greatly storms, cold and famine

retarded them. Allouer’s voyage from Mackinaw to Green Bay

consumed thirty-one days. Marquette was ten days more on his

passage from Green Bay to Chicago.

Yet, in 1642, Madame de la Peltrie,— a tender and delicate

woman,— reared in Parisian refinements, was seized at Quebec

with a longing to visit the Hurons, and to preach in person at that

most arduous station. In 1641, the year before one house was

built in Montreal, Fathers Jogues and Raymbault were distribut-

ing rosaries at the mouth of Lake Superior. Previous to 1640

they had become acquainted with Wisconsin Winnebagoes. The

earliest Iroquois baptism was in 1669, but thirty years before,

scores of Hurons had been baptized hundreds of leagues further

west.

102 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

The first clear trace of a priest in Wisconsin was in 1660. In

that year Father Menard, paddling along the south shore of Lake

Superior for many a weary week, near its western extremity,

reached La Pointe — one of the most northern peninsulas in the

region which is now Wisconsin.

‘He evangelized the natives who flocked together there.”’

Such are the words of the old chronicler. The meaning is, not

that the Jesuit dispensed the whole gospel to the Indians, nor yet

all that he could give, but only so much of it,-such a homceo-

pathic dose —as they would receive.

Harly travelers into the Orient when they there met certain

albinos thought them the posterity of blacks converted by St.

Thomas and whitened by baptism. It seemed doubtful, how-

ever, whether such a skin-bleaching was a real improvement. In

like manner, may it be questioned whether the western mission-

aries who had chosen St. Thomas for their patron were any more

successful than he.

However we may speculate on this matter, we must feel that

Menard’s motives were the best. Sometimes he had no altar but

his paddles supported by crotched sticks and covered with his

sail. Moreover, he dared not celebrate mass in the presence of

those he had there baptized, because it was beyond his power to

convince them that that sacrament was not a juggling trick to se-

cure for the priest slaves in the life beyond life. Father Allouez

was less scrupulous. He boasts as of some great thing that he

had taught one Wisconsin tribe to make the sign of the cross

and to daub its figure on their shields. When one of these con-

verts had married three sisters at once and was censured for it by

Lia Salle, his defense was: ‘‘I was made a Christian against my

will by Father Allouez.” In 1672 this father was welcomed by

Mascoutins whose head-center seems to have been not far from

Portage City.

With Father Menard, in 1660, were three lay-helpers, whom he

next year dispatched southward into Wisconsin to certain Hurons

who had sought an asylum at the mouth of Green Bay. Having

labored nine years for those Hurons in their old home, he soon

followed his fugitive converts, but perished in the wilderness of the

_ First French Foot-Prints Beyond the Lakes. 108

Black river. It is believed that he was murdered by the Sioux,

for among them his breviary and robe were discovered years

afterward. ‘That stream, now called Bovs Brulé, forms the bound-

ary between Wisconsin and Michigan, and it is not known on

which side of it Menard lost his life. Both states may, therefore,

with equal plausibility, glory in him as their own protomartyr.

Wading through the sodden snow, under the bare and dripping

forests, drenched with rains, braving every variety of unknown

horror, faint, yet pursuing to the last, well may we, people of both

states, count him worthy of double honor! Doubtless his last re-

gret was that he had not a whole life to lay down for the salvation

of each state.

Fa Your years after, in 1665, Father Allouez succeeded Menard at

lia Pointe, and carried on his work. Very likely, as in the early

days of Montreal, his only altar lamp was a vial full of fire flies.

When he returned to Quebec for reénforcements, he remained

there only two nights before starting back again with volunteer

co-workers. La Pointe was then a four months’ voyage from

(Quebec. He was saying mass at Green Bay to six hundred In-

dians and eight French traders in 1669, and the next year exhib-

ited a picture of the last judgment, at Neenah, on Lake Winne-

bago. A silver monstrance, the case in which the sacramental

wafer is held up for veneration, presented to the chapel of Allouez

by the French governor, Nicolas Perrot, and bearing the date of

1686, was dug up, in 1802, at De Pere near the head of Green

Bay, and is now treasured in the ambry of the cathedral there.

In 1671, a chart (54x88 centimeters) was drawn, entitled Lake

Tracy or Superior, with the dependencies of the Mission of the

Holy Spirit [that is Za Pointe]. It is still extant in Parisian ar-

chives, at the depot of marine charts. ‘wo years later in the

Jesuit relation of 1678, a map of their missions on the Lake of

the Illinois [that is Michigan] was published.

In the same year the first white men, one of them a missionary,

of whose journey a contemporary record remains, crossed ,Wis-

consin from east to west. ‘These adventurers were Joliet and

Marquette —a noble brace of brothers. Kquals in enthusiasm,

the faith of Marquette, the Jesuit, rivaled the rage for discovery

104 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Aris, and Letters.

in Joliet, the officer. These explorers were cultivated men, and

experienced observers. For five years Marquette had been a

western pioneer, partly in Wisconsin, and Joliet, while voyaging

on Lake Superior some time before, had also probably trod Wis-

consin soil. rom Indian reports they had drawn a map of

the region they purposed to penetrate, and kept it at hand as they —

rowed up Fox river, threaded the marshy maze at the grand

divide and carrying place — now Portage City — and among herds

of elk and deer, floated down the Wisconsin to the great river.

Reaching this grand goal on the seventeenth of June, they glided

with the current of the Mississippi for a month, and probably to -

the latitude of Memphis, which, according to their belief, was no

more than two degrees north of tae Mexican Gulf.

On the return voyage Joliet wintered at Green Bay, where he

had found many good Christians the spring before. The next

season, when he was about to land at Montreal, his boat capsized

and he was only rescued himself after being four hours in the

water. His journal was lost—a sad loss for Wisconsin, which

was thus bereaved of the wayside notes of the earliest traveler

throughout its whole breadth —a record which who would will-

ingly let drown ?

After all who knows but Joliet’s loss may have turned out for

our gain? and will still? Who shall count the investigators

that, mourning for -/olet’s misfortune, have thus, or shall, become

doubly zealous to gather up and commit to the custody of our

Historical Society —or of the art preservative of all arts—

every fragment of our annals, letting nothing — no fraction — be

lost?

Throughout the last third of the seventeenth century and in

all generations since, priests of the Catholic faith may be traced

in or near Wisconsin. There Allouez labored for a quarter of a

century onward from 1665. In 1677 Frontenac speaks of the

Green Bay mission as no new thing. All tribes near that Bay

are mentioned in the missionary report for 1658. In 1680 and

for seven years thereafter, Enjalran was stationed there. He had

been preceded there by Fathers Andreand Albanel, and within a

decade was followed by Nouvel, and three others whose names

First French Foot-Prints Beyond the Lakes. 105

are preserved. As early as 1671 their headquarters were Macki-

naw, but they were constantly making excursions and establishing

out-stations in the parts beyond. In 1721 Father Chardon had

already labored among the Sacs about Green Bay till he had

given them up as beyond hope, and was studying Winnebago in

order to preach to the tribe of that name. Other missionaries are

mentioned at later periods, and the town of De Pere, meaning

Fathers, is said to derive its name from the fact that two Jesuits

suffered martyrdom therein 1765. In the interior of Wisconsin

there were also stations among the Kickapoos and Menomonies.

Downward from the expedition of Joliet and Marquette, Wis-

consin was the favorite thoroughfare of missionaries as well as

others bound for the southwest. Such way-farers shunned the

east shore of Lake Michigan as infested by the Iroquois. If they

could buy permission of the Foxes they glided down the Wis-

consin river as the shortest and easiest route. Those who failed

to win Indian favor paddled along the Wisconsin shore of Lake

Michigan.

It is anatural question, “ What brought the Catholic fathers to

the farthest west at so early a day, while Protestant missionaries,

though abroad in New Hngland before one Kuropean dwelt in

Montreal, had not penetrated half-way to the Hudson river?”

It might have been predicted from the out-set by a philosoph-

ical historian, that French missionaries would out-do all others

among our aborigines. They had already showed themselves

pre-eminent elsewhere. The French originated the crusades, and

from first to last they were the chief crusaders. It was natural

for them, changing tactics with the times, to be as zealous against

the infidels of the occident as they had approved themselves

against those of the orient, and as persistent with litany and mass

as they had been with lance and mace. ‘The presence and per-

sistence of Jesuits on our upper lakes and beyond them, more

than two centuries ago, is accounted for by one single word —

yes, by one syllable, namely (ath — their peculiar faith.

The views I now present of Jesuit missions are of course those

of a non-Catholic. They must be or they could not be my own,

and no one would wish me either to dissimulate my own opinions

106 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

or to simulate those of others. My information, however, all

comes from Catholic witnesses. No others existed then and there.

My account of the French missionaries must be the more one-

sided because my present purpose will not let me expatiate upon

their tact patience and heroic endurance amid all vexations, cul-

minating in martyrdom. In temptations which we cannot bear

to read of, their virtues founda fit emblem in that light from

heaven which they came to bring,—sunbeams which, descending

to the lowest depths of earth, and however reflected and refracted

in abodes of pollution, remain unsullied and continue sunbeams

still.

The Jesuits are the Pope’s standing army (Loyola’s own name

for them was a battalion), and the title of their head is general.

At the beck of superiors subordinates plunged into the vast un-

known of our continent with the unquestioning alacrity of regular

troops.

Not theirs to question why,

Not theirs to make reply;

Theirs but to do, or die.

They knew no west or east, no north or south.

But in addition to his vow of obedience, each missionary was

impelled by a faith which inspired him with tenfold more zeal

and intrepidity. That faith was this: that he bestowed a clear

title to heaven on all whom he baptized, unless they lived to com-

mit mortal sins afterward. Hence when one had sprinkled a

couple of dying children he writes in his diary: ‘“ Two little

Indians changed to-day into ‘wo angels, by one drop of water.

O, my rapture as I saw them expire two hours after baptism.”’

No matter though the sprinkling was effected by pious fraud,

when Jesuits unable otherwise to approach sick infants, pretended

to administer a medicine of sweetened water, but spilled some

drops of it on their heated brows, while whispering sacramental

words with motionless lips. The little ones were sent to paradise

by these waters none the less surely because secretly. Seeing

that death quickly followed baptism, Indians soon inferred that it

was occasioned by those priestly drops. They were hence prone

to scalp a Father if they detected him administering the sacred

rite.

First French Foot-Prints Beyond the Lakes. 107

We hear with a shock of burning prisoners alive. But the

fathers had little to say against the custom. On the other hand,

such an execution seemed to them a means of conversion akin to

a Spanish auto da fe, and equally efficacious. One of the mission-

aries wrote home as follows:

‘ An Iroquois was to be burned some way off. What consolation

is it to set forth in the hottest summer to deliver this victim from

hell. The father approaches, and instructs him even in the midst

of his torments. Torthwith the faith finds a place in his heart.

He adores as the author of his life Him whose name he had

never heard till the hour of his own death. He receives baptism,

and in his place of torture cries: “Iam about to die but I go to

dwell in heaven.” How history repeats itself! In 1877 the last

words of Henry Norfolk on the scaffold in Annapolis were: “I

am here to hang for the murder of my wife, but I thank God I

am going to glory !”

Again, the record is: On the day of the visitation of the Holy

Virgin, the chief Aontarisati was taken prisoner by our Indians,

instructed by our fathers, baptized, burnt, and ascended to heaven,

all on the same day. I doubt not that he thanked the Virgin for

his misfortune and the blessing that followed. Happy thought!

Another missionary writes: ‘‘ We have very rarely indeed seen

the burning of an Iroquois without feeling sure that he was on

the path to Paradise, and we never knew one of them to be on

that path without seeing bim burnt.” Happy thought.

The conclusion of the whole matterthen is: ‘The only way to

save Indians is to burn them,’ or as they now say in Texas:

‘Scalp them first, and then preach to them.”

Powerful motives then hurried the Jesuits wherever an infant

was death-struck, or a captive in torture.

Various secular influences speeded the missionaries on their

western way.

First, the spirit of religion was reinforced by that passion for ro-

mantic adventure which we have just been surveying. Then,

according to Father Biard, the French hing, the most dissolute of

men, initiated the Jesuit project. Preachers who were over-

zealous he liked to ship off, and so transfer their soul-stinging ser-

108 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

mons to the other side of the Atlantic. He thus parried thrusts

which might have hit his conscience more effectually, and yet

more covertly, than the German duke can whose cathedral pew is

hedged about with sliding windows, so that, when he pleases, he

can shut out unpalatable doctrines. Again, the French mon-

arch was as liberal in land-grants to Canadian priests as our con-

gress has been to railroads.

Many of his courtiers too, whose idea of Lent was a month

when they hired their servants to fast for them, paid roundly for

sending so much gospel to the heathen as to leave very little of

it for themselves. Others too who wouid not give a sou of their

own money importuned their neighbors till they forced them to

contribute, as the fox while sparing his own fur tore skin off the

bear’s back to make a plaster for the sick lion. Such beggary

they thought was a means of grace.

While in lower Canada the Jesuits were to some extent subject

to the secular arm, and occasionally were forced to beg the gov-

ernors pardon. The powers that were said to them: ‘Show us

the way to heaven, but we will show you yours on the earth.”

When a Jesuit in a Quebec pulpit declared the King had ex-

ceeded his powers by licensing the trade in brandy in spite of the

bishop's interdict, the governor, Frontenac, threatened to put him

in a place where he would learn to hold his peace.

The same magistrate sent another priest — brother of the author

of Telemachus — to France for trial owing tosome disrespect, and

wrote to the king: ‘‘ The ecclesiastics want to join to their spirit-

ual authority an absolute power over things temporal. They aim

to establish an inquisition worse than that of Spain.”

Amid this conflict of authorities the government was glad to

transport the missionaries, and they were equally glad to be trans-

ported deep into the wilderness; for there all powerin heaven and

on earth, temporal and spiritual alike, and each doubling the

other, was theirs, theirs alone, without rival. Hvery whisper

against them was admitted to be “ injurious to the glory of God.”

They held it better to reign monarchs of all they surveyed among

Menomonies than to hold divided empire in Montreal.

When once the Jesuits were planted in the far west they suf-

First French Foot-Prints Beyond the Lakes. 109

fered no more from governmental jealousies. On the other hand

trade-policy and military power leaned on missions as their main

support. Missions were to explore the Mississippi, missions were

to win over savage hordes at once to the faith and toFrance. At

a momentous crisis, in 1685, the Jesuit, Hngelran, at Mackinaw

adroitly kept the lake tribes from defection. ‘lhe Marquis Du

Quesne used to say that Father Picquet was worth ten regiments.

One tribe was taught by the Fathers that Christ was a Frenchman

murdered by the English, and that the way to gain his favor was

to revenge his death. No wonder a chief called out, ‘“‘O, that I

and my braves had caught those Hnglish crucifiers. We would

have taken off all their scalps.”

In those times, when the question arose which we are still vainly

essaying to answer, ‘“‘ How was America peopled? how came the

Aborigines here?” it was a common saying of theologians that

the devil had led the Indians hither that they might be out of the

way of the gospel. Accordingly, whoever penetrated into the

utmost corner of the West was sure that he beyond all others

was storming the donjon keep of Satan.

This Jesuit storming party, fall of hope and misnamed forlorn,

roved at will without passports, while others, if they lacked such

credentials, were put to death.

Their first acquaintance with mosquitoes isthus recorded : “ The

woods were full of a species of flies similar to the gnats which in

France are called cousins (that is, I suppose, ‘poor relations’).

They are so importunate that one always has a multitude around

him watching for a chance to light on his face or on some part of

his body where the covering is so thin that their stings can easily

pierce it. As soon as they light they draw out blood and substi-

tute for it venom, which excites a strange uneasiness and a tumor

of two or three hours’ duration.” When they first saw a fire fly

they must have thought like Paddy that a mosquito had taken a

lantern in order to find his victims in the dark.

In sending their underlings into the heart of New France,

Jesuit superiors were assured they could there repeat those

miracles of conversion and reconstruction which their order had

lately wrought in South America.

110 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

In Paraguay they had built up a model state. The natives be-

came tolerant of their culture and compliant to their bidding in

every particular. ‘They rose and sought their beds, were married

and given in marriage, weaned their children, removed from place

to place, raised stock or grain, fixed prices, and used their gains

at the dictation of spiritual guides. They were docile, but unde-

veloped, or developed only in some single prescribed direction.

They were literally sheep, submissive when fleeced and even

flayed and slaughtered at the pleasure of their shepherds. But

their development was arrested. At their best they never became

men, but remained children of larger growth, or rather became

weaker in mind as they grew stronger in muscle. The purpose

was to build up a second Paraguay in North America. An ex-

periment, tried in Lower Canada, had failed. Its want of success

was attributed to the roving habits of the tribes and the impossi-

bility of persuading them to renounce nomadic life. It was tried

again, with more sanguine hopes, on Lake Huron, for the tribes

there were fixed through the year in one abode. When the Hurons

had been overpowered by foes and driven into Wisconsin, the

experiment was repeated there.

The westward exodus of Hurons into Wisconsin began as early ~

as 1650. Oaward from that time the French became known there,

and that most favorably, as a race superhuman in arms, in arts

and in benevolence. Such must have been the report concerning

them which fell from the lips of fugitive converts. It roused the

braves on the farthest shores of the farthest lakes to set sail in

quest of the admirable strangers.

Missionaries were the more encouraged to venture far west;

thanks to ¢nvitations from the aborigines. As early as 1611, the

first fleet of Hurons that descended the St. Lawrence to meet

Champlain said to him, ‘‘ Come to our country, teach us the true

faith.” In 1638 it is chronicled that Hurons vied with each other

for the honor of carrying missionaries home with them in their

boats of bark. The volume of Jesuit Relations for 1640, states

that fathers, invited by Algonquins on Lake Superior, were on

the point of pushing forward even to that most western sea.

In 1679 an Outagami chief, espying friarsamong La Salle’s com-

First French Foot-Prints Beyond the Lakes. 11l

pany near Chicago, cried out: “‘ We love those gray robes. They

go barefoot as we do; they care nothing for beaver; they have no

arms to kill us; they fondle our infants ; they have given up every-

thing to abide with us. So we learn from our people who have

been to carry fur to French villages.”

Stations far inland and dissevered from their base on the sea-

board, were also preferred as being undisturbed by the influx and

influence of non-missionary and anti-missionary whites,— godless

sailcrs who swarmed on the rock of Quebec,—and above all from

the heretical psalmody of Huguenots which could not there be

silenced.

Aside from the moral advantages of a mission in the heart of

the land, the fathers and their employes, whether paid or volun-

teering without pay, were most numerous and useful when remote

from other whites, because they were able to push trade in fur,

free from competitors. The lay brothers together with brandy

sold scapularies or belts of the Virgin which were of such sovereign

virtue that nobody who wore one at his death could possibly sink

to perdition. The missionaries, according to Governor Frontenac,

wished to keep out of sight the trade which they always carried on

in the woods. They also claimed that their profits never exceeded

five hundred per cent. Parkman wrote his -/eswits more than a

decade ago. He was then doubtful whether those missionaries

engaged in fur trading. But the letters of Frontenac, often writ-

ten in cipher for secrecy (lately discovered by P. Margry and pub-

lished by our congress), leave us no doubt on this point. In 1674

he wrote Colbert that when he urged the Black Robes to labor near

white settlements, they answered that their coming into America

was to indoctrinate savages—or rather to draw in beaver. He

accuses them of dealing in peltries. In 1682 La Salle wrote that

the Green Bay Jesuits held the real key of the castor country,

while their blacksmith brother and his two helpers converted

more iron into fur than all the fathers could turn pagans into

proselytes.

A further narrative by La Salle regarding Jesuit tactics, reads

as follows: ‘A savage named Kiskirinaro, that is to say, Wild Ox,

of the Mascoutin tribe, a considerable war chief among his people,

112 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

says that in a little river to which he wished to lead me, he had

picked up a quantity of white metal, a portion of which he brought

to Father Allouez, a Jesuit, and that brother Giles, a goldsmith

who resides at Green Bay (“the bay of the Puans”’), having

wrought it, made the sun-shaped article [soleil] in which they put

the holy bread. He meant the ostensory which this same brother

has there made. He says that Father Allouez gave him a good

deal of merchandise by way of recompense, and told him to keep

the matter secret because [the metal] was a manitou— this is to

say a great spirit whe was not yet developed.”

Nor were the most distant fathers altogether at the mercy of

savages. A seminary for Huron boys at Quebec was projected in

the outset, and was begun in 16386, two years before the building

of Harvard College. One reason for founding this educational in-

stitution was that the Indian children in this Do-the-Boys Hall,

would be hostages for the safety of missionaries, however distant

in the interior.

It is a merciful ordination of Providence that the tragic sug-

gests the comic, and all miseries have a ludicrous side.

The crew of Captain Nares in quest of the North Pole would

have died of hypo in a darkness which outlasted a hundred times

the space that measures day and night to us, had they not dipped

deep in comic theatricals. Nor in the worse than Arctic gloom

around them would the Jesuits have fared better, had not their

eyes now and then rested on a silver lining of their sable cloud.

Burdens, otherwise too heavy, they threw off by sportive notes

in their diaries. Thus they must have felt a grim pleasure in

writing down skunks as infants of the devil. Father Allouez

relates that while publishing the gospel in the midst of Wiscon-

sin he found himself in a sort of monkey France. Certain of the

sequestered natives having carried beaver to Montreal had there

beheld military pomp. Wishing to pay the missionary fitting

honors, they stuck feathers in their hair, and organized the naked

braves into a militia company who gravely mimicked every

evolution of the governor's guard. The Jesuit discoursed to

them of heaven and hell, but the unseasonable parody of French

parade did not cease for an instant. The Black Robe could not

First French Foot-Prints Beyond the Lakes. 118

keep his countenance, but his guard of honor did keep theirs.

Every savage executed every punctilio of his part with more than

Spanish gravity.

‘When an Indian had been so scalded as to lose the skin of his

face, a Jesuit writes: “It would have been very well if he had

lost his old heart with his old hide.”

Another Huron, finding no missionary assurance that there was

tobacco in heaven, declared he would never go there. The re-

flection chronicled by the Father is: ‘ Unhappy infidel! all his

time spent in smoke and his eternity in fire.”

Robes and ritual inspired a divine awe. This was sometimes

betrayed in odd ways. No Black Robe’s risibies could remain

unmoved when he overheard converts who feared to address a

missionary, but asked the most solemn questions of his dog,

Again, certain Christian Indians having caught a warrior of a

heathen tribe, named Wolf, the Jesuits let them bura him, having

first instructed and baptized him. Then with a pun on his name

they recorded it as a marvel indeed, that a Wolf was at one

stroke changed intoa lamb; and through the baptism of fire

entered at once into that fold which he came to ravage.

Priestly humor was sometimes wnconscious. Thus Hennepin re-

marks that no sooner had he declared a fraction of the heroic

virtues of “‘ the most high, puissant, most invincible” (Almighty?

no! but) King of France, to savages” than they at once “ received

the gospel and revered the cross.”

Again when he had set forth certain mysteries the Indians told

him some of their fables. Bat these, he told them, were false.

Their answer was, we believed your lies; had you been as polite

as we were, you would have believed ours.” Agaiu, the question

whether the quid of a tobacco chewer, taken in the morning

before mass, broke his fast, was discussed pro and con by easuists.

To them it seemed a question altogether serious, however ]udi-

crous on all sides it appears to us.

Again, when they noticed that a certain beardless priest was a

special favorite with natives, they sent to France for pictures of

Christ painted without a beard.

After some analogous scrutiny of Indian tastes they wrote in

114 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

their next order for paintings, “‘ one view of celestial rapture is

enough, but you cannot send too many scenes of infernal torments.”

Again, ‘if three four or five devils were painted torturing a

soul with different punishments, one applying fire, another ser-

pents, another tearing him with pincers, another holding bim fast

with a chain, this wonld have a good effect, especialiy if every-

thing were made distinct, and misery, rage and desperation ap-

peared plainly in the victim’s face.”

Within fifteen years after Jesuits began work in earnest among

Hurons, that tribe was either annihilated or expelled by the Iro-

quois. But for that catastrophe the faith of the Jesuit might

have been to this day more dominant in Upper Canada than it is

in Lower.

Some tincture of it has survived everything in all Incian dis-

persions. One of the first English adventurers to Maine was

greeted by the natives with a pantomime of bows and flourishes

which in his judgment could have been learned of nobody but a

Frenchman. The aborigines in general were inoculated with

French faith and French fashions so that they took about as much

of one as of the other,—and not much of either. Disciples who

ran wild inthe woods retained some prayers and chants learned

by rote. The divine vision which roused Pontiac and his com-

patriots to war, was a woman arrayed in white. Had they not

been taught concerning the Virgin Mary, it could hardly have

taken this form. In 1877, a white man who had been caught by

a Rocky Mountain tribe chained to his wagon-wheel and half

burnt, when he made the siga of the cross was snatched out of

the fire The hunting camps of tribes in Manitoba are to-day

called Missions.

Missionaries, then, burning to propagate their faith, more than

two centuries ‘ago penetrated into our Northwest, some of them

into Wisconsin. They there discovered tribes having fixed abodes,

over whom their knowledge and tact gave them power, so that

they molded them as clay in the hand of a potter, where their

influence was unchecked by white intruders, and where they could

so trade as to make their enterprise self-supporting.

The dhird stepping-stone of the French into the northwest, aud

thus into Wisconsin, was fur.

First French Foot-Prinis Beyond the Lakes. 115.

The fur trade would have drawn them thither, even if fun and

faith had not paved their way. Indeed, that trade began to at-

tract them to American shores before either fun or faith had

~ worked at all in that direction.

After all, fish was the first magnet which drew Frenchmen

across the Atlantic. According to a manuscript in the library at

Versailles, when Cabot (before Columbus had landed on coati-

nental America) discovered Newfoundland, he heard the word

baccalaos there in use for “‘ cod-fish.” But ‘“ baccalaos” is the Bre-

ton-French word for that fish. It is possible then that Bretons,

next to the Norse, were the true discoverers of America — pre-

Columbian and pre-Cabotian.

However this may be, fish, indispensable for fasts and not un-

welcome at feasts, were sought by Bretons off Newfoundland, a

century before Quebec was founded. In 1578, there were ove

hundred and fifty French vessels there.

But peltries, already scarce in Europe, filled the land in that

quarter no less than fish the sea, and were hunted as early. Before

the close of the sixteenth century, forty convicts, left on a Nova

Scotia island, had accumulated a quantity of valuable furs.

But, what is far more surprising, Menendez relates that fifty-

five years before the landing from the May Flower—in 1565 —

buffalo skins had been brought by Indians down the Potomac,

and thence along shore in canoes to the French about the 8S.

Lawrence at the rate of three thousand a year.

But not content with coast traffic, and with a view to escape the

rivalry and hostility of Dutch and English, as well as in quest of

fresh fur fields, traders pushed inland. Before the year 1600 they

had a post at Tadoussac, at the mouth of the Saguenay, and in

1608 established themselves at Quebec.

To this emporium Indian flotillas, year by year larger and

larger, and from districts more and more remote, resorted. They

came laden with furs, and drawn thither by what they counted

miracles of beauty and ingenuity, which, bartered on the coast

by the first comers, had glided up the St. Lawrence and all

its tributaries, and even to the great lakes, where beaver were

‘most and best.

116 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

They were further attracted by the presents and invitations of

Champlain, who, in 1615, within seven years after the first tree

was felled at Quebec, had held councils on Like Huron, and

bidden the natives to bring down their furs. Western Indians were

still more stimulated to traffic by ‘adventurers, who, as we have

seen, had in 1609 begun to be domesticated among the aborigines

and to share their hunts. Wrapped in furs, striding on snow

shoes with bodies half bent, through the gray forests and frozen

pine swamps, among black trunks and dark ravines, these young

Frenchmen, though they meant not so, were commercial travelers,

and they fulfilled their mission as shrewdly as those who now

sally from Chicago. Those Chicago emissaries are dextrous deal-

ers, yet very possibly might learn some new tricks of trade could

they recover the lost arts of their forerunners whose palace cars

were bark canoes, and their commercial hotels wigwams. Drum-

mers from the lake-metropolis now encounter men of their own

stamp from St. Louis. So did the early French agents conflict

even in Illinois and Michigan with those who had been dispatched

from the Hudson. In order to get beyond New York competitors,

the French hurried still further west than they otherwise would

have ventured.

Again, these roving and fraternizing Frenchmen did not long

go among the aborigines empty-handed, or even selling by sam-

ples. They took with them into the heart of the land those

goods — light and cheap — for which the Indian demand was the

greatest.

At sight of an iron hatchet, says Perrot, Wisconsin tribes

raised their eyes blessing heaven for sending them a race able to

furnish so powerful a deliverer from all their woes. Every bar

of iron was in their eyes a divinity. But brandy was from first

to last the one thing needful in a trader’s outfit. It was indeed

contraband according to the dignitaries of both church and state.

Yet tnen as now it had free course on some underground railroad.

Tt was more easily carried because, before exposed for sale, it was

watered as profusely as the stock of our railroads. Hach gallon

of proof liquor swelled to six. The lowest price for brandy was

a chopine for a beaver skin. How much a French chopine

First French Foot-Prints Beyond the Lakes. 117

amounted to you cannot easily learn from books. French and

English measures were incommensurable. But what I long sought

in vain, I have learned from the casual remark of an ancient fur-

trader, that a chopine was so small a quantity as would not make

an Indian drunk more than once. An Indian is quite unlike an

Irishman. Butin one thing they agree. Neither is consciously

guilty ofa bull when he says: ‘Give me the superfluities of life

and I will give up the necessaries. ‘Traders too scrupulous to sell

liquor to an Indian, would still exact a beaver of him fora single

four pound loaf of bread.

French commercial men bore a charmed life. The fiercest sav-

ages spared both them and their goods, lest nomore of that desira-

ble class should come among their tribes. They had too much

wit to kill the geese who were their only hope of golden eggs.

La Salle’s testimony is: (M. 2,284) “The savages take better

care of us French than of their own children. From us only can

they get guns and goods.” Hennepin relates that he would have

been scalped by his Indian captors had they not judged that his

death would hinder others of his countrymen from bringing them

iron.

French traders soon brought with them more merchandise than

they could transport overland. They were thus led to establish

trading posts on navigable streams and at carrying-places, We

naturally think such commercial stations would be set up first

along the St. Lawrence and Lake Ontario, those natural highways

to and from the west. They were not. Those waters were watched

by the Zroquois; fiercest in fight of all Indians, foes of France,

allies of Holland and England. Accordingly the thoroughfare

of western Indians to Quebec and of French traders to the upper

lakes, was by the Oléawa, a river which, lying farther north, was

comparatively safe from Iroquois ambuscades, which were with

reason more dreaded than cold, famine, storm and cataract.

Hence it came to pass that the French while they still knew

nothing of Lake Hrie and Niagara, were familiar with Lake

Superior. ‘Two of their traders had penetrated into that inland

sea in 1658.

Even after the French were at peace with the Indians on the

118 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Leiters.

south of the St. Lawrence and Lake Ontario, they were no match

on those waters for Datch and English rivals in fur trading. The

latter could afford to pay four times as much for furs as the French

could. Nine pence was the export duty on a beaver at New

York; in Quebec it was six times as much. In New York far-

trade was free. At Quebec seven hundred crowns were charged

for permission to send a single boat up the Ottawa. Good reason

then had the French to seek furs so far northwest that they could

escape Kuropean competitors.

The result was that they had reached Lake Huron in 1615, and

soon hurried on to Michigan, while they had no port on the

nearer lake, Ontario, till two generations afterward in 1673, when

they threw up Fort Frontenac at its outlet, where Kingston now

stands. Its builder, Frontenac, intended it merely as a base of

operations for fur trade so far west that he would be independent

of the governor of Montreal. Seven years afterward in 1679,

La Salle, having launched the first sloop ever built on Lake Hrie,

voyaged in her through St. Clair, Huron and Michigan to the

mouth of Green Bay.

His vessel was there freighted with rich furs, but as she was

lost on her first passsage eastward, La Salle’s experiment did not

recommend the lower lakes. On the contrary it tended to make

the upper, or Ottawa route, more popular than ever.

The doors into Wisconsin were two,— La Pointe and Green

Bay, and these two-were about equal favorites. The first mis-

silonary arrived at La Pointe in 1660. Fur traders came with him.

Nine years after, in 1669, when Father Allouez reached Green

Bay to found a mission, fur traders were on the ground, and bad

become so domineering in that end of the world, that the mis-

sionary was brought by the Indians from Lake Superior as a

protector.

Nicholas Perrot, who in 1683 built a fort near the mouth of the

Chippewa river, though on the west bank of the Mississippi, had

entered Green Bay eighteen or twenty years earlier. He wrote

a volume,— not for publication — but for the information of the

Canadian government. In this work which was first printed less

than twenty years ago, in 1864, he describes-a score of journeys in

First French Foot-Prints Beyond the Lakes. 119

all parts of Wisconsin, all of them having something to do with

fur. How fully even in his lifetime the region between Lake

Michigan and the great river had become known to the French, is

plain from the early geographical names being largely French.

Le Sueur, who passed up the Mississippi in the year 1700, men-

tions between the Wisconsin and the St. Croix, six rivers with

French names, all apparently of long standing. These rivers

were Aux Canots, Cachee, Aux Ailes, Des Raisins, Pasquilenette

and Bon Secours. In other parts of Wisconsin not a few French

names run back as far as these on its western border.

In 1654 Father Le Mercier at the outlet of Lake Superior |

wrote that about Green Bay, nine days’ journey distant, there

were Algonquins, and that if thirty French were sent there they

would not only gain many souls to God but would receive pecu-

niary profit, because the finest peltries came from those quarters.

The next year fifty canoes of these Indians visited Quebec, and

thirty Frenchmen returned with them. Among Ottawas between

Green Bay and Lake Superior French traders are mentioned in

1659. In 1665 Perrot was buying beaver of Outagamies in or

near the Wisconsin county in the name of which they still live,

and in the following year the second flotilla of Pottawatomies had

reached Montreal.

French fur-factors penetrated the further into western fastnesses,

because by this means they practically enjoyed free-trade. Mak-

ing bark canoes far inland they evaded the crushing imposts on

all canoes allowed to pass up. While mother-states were all at

war, they plied friendly commerce with Dutch and English mid-

dle-men as well as their Indian confederates. Thus their beaver

were either exported through New York, dodging the French tax,

or they were bartered there for blankets cheaper and better than

were to be had in Canada.

Asa rule the French governor and intendant were at swords’

points with each other. Hach would charge the other with a

heinous offense—carrying furs to the English province. The

truth is that each of them was determined to be the only sinner

in that line. Hach thus resembled the usurer who was delighted

with a sermon against usury, paid for printing it and said to the

120 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

preacher, “Make more ‘such discourses! Stop everybody from

taking high interest — except me. Then I can monopolize the —

whole business.” As his recompense for risks and outlays in

western discovery, la Salle asked nothing but the exclusive right

to sell the skins of buffaloes.

Royal monopolies of fur-trading, lavished in Paris on court

favorites or on corporations as the Ifundred Associates, erippied

that traffic near the coast. But they drove the bulk of that busi-

ness into the heart of the continent, where it fell into the hands

of traders so distant, shrewd and self-sufficing that it could not

be crippled. Over a region vaster than any Kuropean kingdom,

the bush-rangers carried on the fur-trade afier their own pleasure,

and laughed at royal restrictions on their dealings.

In 1681 Hennepin, at Mackinaw, met with forty-two Canadians

who had come thither to trade in furs, defiant of the orders of

their viceroy. These foresters were not without a sort of con-

scvence, for they all begged the Jesuit to give them the cord of St.

Francis, which was believed to make their salvation sure if they

died wearing it as a girdle, and they all gained their request.

Hennepin was then journeying eastward irom Green Buy, where

he had been entertained by the same class of contraband traffickers.

There similar adventurers — La Salle informs us — had a perma-

nent post in 1677, and that bay had even been visited by a brace

of voyagers more than twenty years before, in 1654. Before La-

Salle began his explorations in 1679, his employes were familiar

with far western tribes. One of them, Accault, had spent two

winters and a summer in Wisconsin. Before 1680, Duluth, with

a score of followers, was trading as far inland as the city which

now bears his name. He proclaimed that he feared no authority

and would force the government to grant him amnesty. (M. 2, 251.)

The sloop which La Salle in 1679 had dispatched to Niagara

before he started from Green Bay for [linois, according to his

conviction was scuttled by her crew, who plundered her and

struck into the northwestern wilderness, meaning to join hands

with Daluth. (M. 2, 827.) Years afterward La Salle heard of a

French captive on the upper Mississippi whom he identified as his

pilot, and learned that hand-grenades, which could only have come

First French Foot-Prints Beyond the Lakes. 121

from the missing vessel, had been taken by savages from that

captive.

In order to buy cheaper of Indian trappers, wandering fur

hunters would report pestilence as prevailing in Montreal, and thus

frighten savages from paddling down the river. Such fur-factors

were outlawed on the upper lakes, and they could not dam up

their outlets, but they intercepted many a flotilla anxiously ex-

pected from above in Montreal. Thus masters of the situation,

they resembled those cunning Athenians who Aristophanes tells

us were suspended in asort of balloon, stopping incense as it rose

from Jove’s altars, and letting no savor of it reach oy aes

nostrils, but keeping all for themselves.

Ona long march every thing not totally indispensable is dropped.

Hence the far western dealer carried no scales or steel yards. But

he was himself a better weighing machine, for himself at least,

than any witty invention of Fairbanks with all Howe’s improve-

ments superadded. So the saying was about Duluth: “ Duluth,

an honest man, bought all by weight, and made the ignorant

savages believe that his right foot exactly weighel a pound. By

this for many years he bought their furs, and died in quiet like

an honest dealer.”

In selling to Indians, however, the pound was no doubt quite a

different weight. In the journal of a missionary at the outlet of

Lake Superior I find that in 1670 a beaver was there valued at

either four ounces of powder, or one fathom of tobacco, or the

same length of blue serge or six knives.

Wood-ranging fur men seemed an evanescent race. Neverthe-

less they outlasted French empire in America. In latter times

when English and Yankee fur-companies were organized in

Montreal and New York they were unable to dispense with the

French operatives, ‘‘to the manner born.” Generation.after gen-

eration they retained them as practical men fittest for all works

relating to fur. In all governmental departments the higher

functionaries, when first elected (and too often to the very end of

their career), need to be taught official routine. Hence officials

of lower grade who have learned to run the machine, are retained

without regard to political revolutions. These factotums are sig-

122 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

nificantly called ‘‘dry-nurses.” Such dry-nurses for English and

American fur kings were discovered in French underlings.

Fun and faith both gave a new impulse to the fur trade. With

it they formed a three fold cord which drew the French from end

to end of the Mississippi, as well as to the farthest fountains of the

St. Lawrence, and even further. La Salle deserves deathless fame,

and will have it, because he was first to follow the Mississippi

down to the gulf. But his grand object was to secure an outlet

for fur that was not half the year frozen up, and the other half

infested by English rivals, Iroquois ambushes, and worse than all,

Canadian farmers of the royal revenue. Duluth, whose name we

have seen revived and bestowed on a mushroom metropolis, “ the

zenith city of the unsalted sea,” two centuries ago had penetrated

beyond the farthest corner of our innermost and uppermost lake.

His mission was to intrigue and foil the English on Hudson Bay.

Hre long a French fort rose on the Saskatchawan, two thousand

miles, as men traveled, from the seaboard. This station came up

under the auspices of the French Company of the Northwest, in-

corporated in 1676, in antagonism to the Hudson Bay Company,

which came into existence six years earlier. It long bore sov-

ereign sway over a wide savage domain.

The natives preferred the manufactures of the English, but the

manners of the French. Like all savages, they were swayed by

impulse more than by interest. They would give more for one

plug of tobacco brought to their wigwams than they could buy

twenty for in Albany or Hudson Bay. Hence they traded with

the French, and became their tools. One result was that in 1684,

and again three years after, Nicolas Perrot, the supreme fur

trader and Indian negotiator of his time, persuaded five hundred

Indians from Wisconsin and near it to paddle their canoes all the

way to Niagara in order to fight for the French.

In 1724, Bourgmont was already exploring the Upper Missouri.

But on this line of Western research Verendrye outstripped all

others. Pushing on step by step for ten years, he discovered the

Rocky Mountains in 1743 on New Year’s day, sixty-one years

before our Lewis and Clarke. The point of his discovery was

just above where the Yellowstone joins the Missouri. That re-

First French Foot-Prints Beyond the Lakes. 123

gion was so full of fur that the governor’s share in the profits of

a trading company soon amounted to 300,000 frances.

Those who, from mere love of fun, explored unknown woods

and waters, learned strange tongues and ceased. to be strangers

among strange tribes, and unawares acquired all the requisites for

successful commerce in beaver. Missions also, though founded

in faith, by faith and for faith, furnished as good a base for the

enterprises of furriers as if they had owed their origin to the

spirit of mercantile speculation. :

There is no danger of overrating the pervasiveness of French

fur dealings in the Northwest centuries ago. We may well be-

lieve no cove, no navigable stream was unplowed by their boats

of bark; no tribe, no council unvisited.

The demand for fur in France was stimulated by royal decrees.

In 1670 one of them prohibited the manufacture of demi-castors,

a sort of hats that were only half made of beaver. Soon after-

ward a prohibitory duty was laid in France on all furs not from

French colonies.

Statistics are stupefying, and there is some wit in the quip, “A

fic for your daies/’’ Afterall a few figures are necessary if we

would understand how speedily and how grandly the trade in

skins was developed, or how long and how widely fur was king

as truly as cotton or corn has become so in our times.

In 1610, ten years before the landing of the forefathers at

Plymouth, the boats of fur traders were at the outlet of Lake

Champlain. Three years after forty canoes came down to Mon-

treal bringing fur.. In 1690 their number was 165; three years

after, it rose to two hundred. For a decade before 1649, the

Huron beaver harvest was valued at half a million frances a year.

Fifty francs would then feed a man for a twelvemonth, and one

hundred and fifty would pay a soldier. In 1674, the skins im-

ported into Rochelle were 311,315. The governor of Montreal,

whose salary was a thousand crowns, soon cleared fifty thousand

by illicit fur dealing.

As early as 1670 there is mention of a fur fleet embarking at

Green Bay for Montreal. Even before this, as we have seen, ad-

venturers to Wisconsin waters and its interior, paid the charges

124 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

of exploration by an incidental trade in fur. Just afterward, the

first Indians whom Marquette met on the Mississippi, were wear-

ing Frenchcloth. During the winter of 1674-5, when that mission-

ary lay sick at Chicago, two traders were already encamped in the

vicinity.

For more than a hundred years, the Northwestern beaver trade

flowed on with a colossal and all-pervading stream. In 1791, the

skins collected there for Montreal merchants amounted to more

than ha'f a million (565,000). A few years after John Jacob

Astor, “sagacious of his quarry from afar,” engaged in this traffic

with hundreds of boats, thousands of men and millions of capital.

Green Bay was his point of departure, as Mackinaw had been

that of the French for many generations. But his employes

pushed through the continent to the western ocean. Most of his

fortune came from fur, and it would have been twice as large, but

for the war of 1812. But even Astor’s fur agents of all classes

were largely descendants of French voyageurs who had taken up

their abode in the Northwest ages before.

Falsehood and false fancies were also among the ioe which

first hurried the French far west.

It is through no longing for alliterative initials that [ add false

fancies and falsehood as a fourth force to fun, faith and fur. At

that period all travelers, if not Munchausens themselves, believed

Munchausen stories, and when people are willing to be deceived,

they are deceived. Demand for lies never lacks supply.

One Frenchman in Florida, when he saw a squaw so wrinkled

that there was no room for one furrow more, believed the report

that she had outlived five generations. Another, near Newfound-

land, landed on an isle of demons not without wings, horns and

tails. A third, when certain Canadian chiefs told him of a race

who had but one leg and lived without food, took them to France

for repeating their story to the king. These were sons of men

who had been crejulous to Venetian merchants, who, selling spices

for their weight in gold, advertised them as no product of the

vulgar earth, but plucked from branches thrown down from the

battlements of Hien by compassionate cherubim. The age of

faith was not yet over. As recently as the last year of the seven-

First French Foot-Prints Beyond the Lakes. 125 -

teenth century a company formed in France to work a mine of

green earth reported to exist at the sources of the Mississippi,

sent a party of thirty miners up that river. Their voyage up

stream last:d ten months.

Among the earliest volunteers from the retainers of Champlain

to ascend the Ottawa with savages, who had descended from a

country no white man had ever trod, was Vignan, in 1610. On

his return next season, he declared that he had pushed on toa

salt sea, seen the wreck of an English ship, and heard of Cathay

and Zipango,— so China and Japan were then called — as not far

away.

The spark fell in gunpowder. Champlain heard not only what

_he wished to believe, but what all men of his time and a century

after held for certain, that a short Northwest passage to the Hast

Indies existed, and would at once double the wealth of any nation

which could appropriate it by right of discovery. His own fleet

had been equipped in 1608, not merely to colonize Acadia, but

‘to penetrate inland even to the Occidental sea and arrive some

day at China.”

He believed that in 1609 a vessel, clearing from Acapulco,— a

Mexican port on the Pacific, lost its reckoning in a storm, but

after two months found itself in Ireland,— and that the King of

Spain had ordered the journal of the pilot to be burned so as to

keep foreigners from knowing the course followed, but which

was supposed to be north of Canada, The map of Verrazano,

then still an authority, in addition to the Isthmus of Panama

showed another no less narrow near the latitude of New York

with the Pacific beyond it on tha West.

More than three score years afterward, La Salle sought that

Kast Indian route by way of the Mississippi. His estate just above

Montreal was, and is still, called or nick-named, La Chine, that is

China, because he started from there bound for the Empire of

Celestials. Years after he had stood at the mouth of the Missis-

sippi, he spoke of that river as separated from the China sea only

by the breadth of the province of Culiacan, and was confident of

meeting not far from the mouth of the Missouri, with rivers

which flowed into the ocean he sought.

126 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

England shared in the delusion that the Pacific was near the

Atlantic. Hence a barge was sent over to John Smith in Vir-

ginia with orders to row it up the Potomac, carry it over the

mountains, and launch it on some stream that flowed into the

South sea, which was afterward made the western boundary of

Connecticut. :

The truth is that French and English alike had a short cut to

China on the brain. No sooner then had Champlain heard the

story of Vigaan than he hastened ap the Ottawa witha a crew of

enthusiasts. Thirty-five carrying-places and an infinity of hard-

ships seemed nothing to him. When half way to Lake Huron —

at the Isle of Allumette,— he detected the imposition which Vig-

nan had practiced upon him. Champlain was more magnanimous

than certain prospectors lately led into the Black Hills by a guide

who promised them diggings that would yield thirty cents a pan,

and finding him a liar straightway strung him up on the nearest

tree. Champlain was more disappointed than the prospectors —

yet he forgave the impostor.

The next year, 1615, taking a fresh start, he reached the head

of the Ottawa, crossed to Lake Huron,— held councils with divers

nations on that inland sea, hearing of still other seas beyond — ~

and saying to one and all: “ Bring furs down to Quebec and

show me the way to China.” Plainly he thought one request as

easy to grant as the other.

The name of the first Wisconsin tribe with which the French

became acquainted, and that before 1640, namely, Winnebagoes,

was understood by them to signify Saliwater men, and western

saltwater they associated only with the Pacific. Nicolet, the first

white man on the Wisconsin (?), having voyaged down that river

within some five and thirty leagues of the Mississippi, believed

himself within three days march of the great sea of the west.

The Indiaus were always notorious for reporting whatever they

perceived that whites desired to hear. They thus hoaxed them

all alike. Spaniards they tickled with stories of gold, New Eng-

land Puritans by legends concerning the Great Spirit, and so they

amused the French, who came with a passion for China, with ac-

counts of a Celestial empire.

First French Foot-Prints Beyond the Lakes. 127

At that era various nations were rivals in searching for new

routes to China,—the English through Hudson Bay, the Dutch

north of Lapland, and the French by way of the Great Lakes.

They had all been denied access to the Hist Indies either by the

Cape of Good Hope or of Hora,— which Spain and Portugal re-

spectively blockaded, treating as privateers all who tried to pass.

But their hopes were sanguine of finding another road thither, as

the Italians when at the fall of Constantinople cut off from their

medizeval thoroughfare eastward from the Levart, had set their

faces westward and discovered America. The spirit of the age,

“the grandeur of which,” Froude pronounces “among the most

sublime phenomena which the earth has witnessed,” felt that only

a corner of the veil had been lifted. All past findings just gave

enough to wake the taste for more.

Champlain was the more thoroughly persuaded that the Pacific

was near Lake Huron because he had himself beheld Pacific

surges at Panama, the loagitude of which is not so far west as

that lake by a dozen degrees. His sight strengthened his faith,

which was never weak. (Quartz pebbles picked up on the river

bank at Quebec he thought diamonds, and gave the rock above

the name it bears to this day — Cape Diamond.

On Joliet’s return from d own the Mississippi, Frontenac’s first

feeling was regret that that river had not borne the explorer to

the Pacific and to Japan. His next emotion was hope that the

Missouri — still anonymous, but called by Joliet a northwest

branch entering the Mississippi in latitude 88 degrees — could be

ascended to a lake with an outlet into the Vermilion Sea — his

name for the Gulf of California. Seven years later, in 1680,

Duluth. near the head waters of the Mississippi, heard of Henne-

pin as a captive among the Sioux. He sought him out, procured

his release and escorted him to Green Bay. But for this call toa

mission of mercy, ‘‘ my design was,” says he, ‘to push on to the

sea on the northwest, believed to be the Vermilion Sea, from

which a war party had come among the Sioux. Some of its salt

they gave to three Frenchmen that I had sent out as a scout, and

they brought it tome. According to their report it was no more

than twenty days’ march to a great lake the water of which was

128 Waisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

not fit to drink, and which I had no doubt I could reach without

difficulty.” .

But all varieties of Frenchmen in America —the fur-hunter,

the votary of fun and frolic and the apostle of faith — whatever

their primary impulses, each man was inspired to dive further

into the west, by a lurking but fixed idea that he was himself the —

predestinated Columbus of the grand discovery — that - portal:

through which men should bring the glory and honor of the

nations to and from farthest India — that world’s highway whieh

lay hid from princes and plebeians till in the fullness of time

California opened wide her Golden Gate on golden hinges turning.

Only those of us who remember when California burst on the

world like a sun-burst, or lightning shining from the west unto

the east, as EK! Dorado no longer fabulous, can understand the

fever and frenzy which burned in every man who set his foot

toward the western unknown; his assurance that he was to be the

revelator, not of an ignis fatuus or desert Nile fountain, but of

greater marvels than are dreamed of in all the Arabian Nights —

a fairyland where urchins play at cherry-pit with diamonds,

where country weaches thread rubies instead of rowan berries for

necklaces, where the pantiles are pure gold and the paving stones

virgin silver. For such merchandise who, though no pilot, would

not adventure to the farthest shore washed by the farthest sea?

“The blood more stirs to rouse a lion than to start a hare.”

Accordingly the illusions, that sheening far celestial seemed to be,

of the China-seeker, the missionary and the fun-lover, yes, of the

fur-dealer, roused them to efforts and crowned them with suc-

cesses they could never have made had they seen things as they

really were.

Celestial visions flitting always a little ahead of western wan-

derers were an analogue of Sydney Smith’s patent Tantalus.

This was a bag of oats hung on the pole of his carriage. It

rattled before the noses of his horses, but was about a foot beyond

their reach. In both cases, also, the stimulating influence was

very similar.

Another French foundation was laid in the far west by politi-

eal finesse and feudalism.

First French Foot Prints Beyond the Lakes. 129

The apostles of faith were also political intriguers. They

knew that nothing but the supremacy of France could afford a

basis for permanence in their missions. Accordingly, of them-

selves they worked for French domination as for self-preservation,

aod they were often formally appointed ambassadors.

Moreover, they sometimes established a sort of theocratic feu-

dalism, or oriental patriarchate, in which they were themselves

lords paramount.

According to Parkman, ‘‘it behooved them to require obedi-

ence from those whom they imagined God had confided to their

guidance. Their consciences then acted in perfect accordance

with the love of power innate in the human breast.

“These allied forces mingle with a perplexing subtlety. Pride

disguised even from itself walks in the likeness of love and

duty, and a thousand times on the pages of history we find hell

beguiling the virtues of heaven to do its work. The instinct of

domination is a weed that grows rank in the shadow of the

temple.” (Jesuits, p. 159.)

Always and everywhere Jesuits have been charged with usurp-

ing political sway. In 1667, the Canadian Intendant, Talon, ad-

dressed a remonstrance to Colbert, the French premier, complain-

ing that the Jesuits ‘‘grasped at temporalities, encroaching even

on that police which concerned magistrates alone.” This com-

plaint related to intermeddling on the St. Lawrence. But on the

Upper Lakes and beyond them, there could not be too much

Jesuit domination to please french statesmen.

But another class of political agents were very early abroad in

the west. Nicolet, whom I have mentioned as in Wisconsin in

1634, and probably the first white man ever there, had been dis-

patched to Green Bay as a peace maker between the tribes of that

vicinity and the Hurons.

Soon after the year 1650 the Iroquois had vanquished all the

tribes east of Lake Michigan. They expelled them from their

old homes, and drove most of them beyond that lake, some of

them even beyond the Mississippi. In this flight the Ottawas de-

scending the Wisconsin, and pushing up the Mississippi some

dozen leagues, entered the Little Iowa and sought an asylum on

130 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

its upper waters. For those tribes who lingered in Wisconsin

there was no hope of fighting the Iroquois fire-arms without fire-

arms, and no hope of fire-arms except from the French. The

governors of New France, to whom the Iroquois were sworn ene-

mies,— at once saw the policy of lifting up these fugitives, unit--

ing them in amity to each other, and to the tribes where they had

fled for refuge, supplying them with kettles, tobacco, but above

all with guns and powder,—in a word by every means stealing

their hearts. For this end they dispatched into Wisconsin and

further a sp2cies of envoys of whizh Nicolas Perrot was a good

representative.

This Indian commissioner had been prepared for his functions

by much western experience. He was first in Jesuit employ as a

lay-brother, and then became an adventurer in quest of fun and

fur where no white man’s foot had trod. No doubt he was in

make half Indian, and when present at a war danc2 would lead

it, like Frontenac at three score and ten, whooping lke the rest, .

or rather outwhooping them all. The Indians named him “ Pop-

corn,’ perhaps because when heated he seemed to them to grow

ten times bigger, like the dwarf who declared that though his

avoirdupois in the scale was ordinarily only one hundred and

twenty pounds, whenever he got mad he weighed a ton.

- His official career in Wisconsin began at latest in 1665. After

making friendship with the Pottawatomies at Green Bay, he

pushed up Fox River and into a lake of which it is an outlet.

There he held a council with the Outagamies. After this fashion

he went on for five years,—at home with tribe after tribe — at

home in the customs and dialests of all the enormous angle be-

tween the upper Mississippi and the upper lakes. He brought

many nations into a confederation with each other and against the

Iroquois. His fame, like Sslomon’s, brought visitors into Green

Bay from the uttermost parts of the earth,—some who spoke of

trading with Mexican Spaniards and others who described white

men far north in a house which walked on the water — meaning

the English on Hudson bay. (2 178 La Potherie.) How he was

borne aloft on a buffalo robe, reverenced for fashioning iron as

squaws did dough in a kneading trough, and feared as holding in

his hands thunder and lightning, we have seen “lready.

First French Foot Prints Beyond the Lakes. 131

In 1671 he was interpreter for a dozen nations whose delegates

largely through his persuasions then gathered at Mackinaw and

acknowledged the sovereignty of France. His influence over

them was seen in 1684, and again three years after, when, as -L

have before stated, he induced five hundred warriors from Wis-

“consin, and near it, to paddle their canoes many a hundred miles

in order as allies of the French to fight against the Iroquois.

According to Indian ideas his greatest exploit was delivering

from torture and death a captive whom the savages had resolved

to burn. No common miracle was it to make Indians forego the

ecstasy of beholding and gloating on an enemy in agony. The

French then aimed to make the western chiefs do homage to their

king as a suzerain, and fight shoulder to shoulder in his battles.

But many adventurers from France also sought to become

themselves a sort of feudal barons. To this end they secured

patents of nobility with land-grants, termed seigniories. Some of

these bordered on the St. Lawrence and Lake Champlain. But these —

eastern estates just gave enough to wake the taste for more. At

the outlet of Lake Ontario La Salle possessed a domain stretch-

ing five leagues along the shore, besides others almost boundless

on Lake Michigan, and whatever in other unknown regions he

could conquer. As Col. Colt invented a patent revolver, so La

Salle expected to hold as a patent-right the realm he had re-

vealed. He was sanguine that his principality would be more at-

tractive to immigrants than Canada. Jt was prairie which needed

no clearing,— it was more fertile, of milder climate and more

varied products, many of them —as salt, grapes and hemp — un-

known in Canada. Not a few similar land-claims based on gov-

ernmental grants were set up by French occupants when the

United States assumed jurisdiction over Wisconsin. ‘The Norman

race which centuries before had feudalized all Hurope, now meant

to master the Mississippi Valley. French wanderers were not

unfrequently elected chiefs of tribes. Perrot was so honored

among nine different nations. French. officers also came with a

retiaue of their own countrymen, whom they ruled by martial

law, being sometimes judge, jury and executioners all at once.

This one-man power, where no law was known but his will, was

182 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

the secret of many asuccess. It inspired a salutary fear where

the common law of England and even the civil law of continental

Europe would only have provoked contempt.

At Frontenac La Salle wrought wonders. The natives were

compliant to his will like clay in the hands of a potter. At his

bidding they settled near his fort, cleared land, tilled it, worked

on the fortifications and on houses, sent their children to school.

According to Parkman, “‘seignior by royal grant of water-front

for five leagues,— feudal lord of the forests around,— commander

of a garrison raised and paid by himself,— founder of the mis-

sion,— patron of the church,— he reigned the autocrat of his

lonely empire.” Nor was he altogether destitute of feudal trap-

pings,— for, according to his chaplain, Hennepin, on state occa-

sions he wore a scarlet mantle laced with gold.

On the Illinois river his success was still more marvelous. The

colony he there extemporized was reckoned in 1634 to contain

4,000 Indian warriors or 20,000 souls, like the peasantry of the

middle-ages, clustered around his rock fort, ‘Starved Rock,”

perched high as an eagle’s nest. The region around he had be-

gun to parcel out among his followers.

Feeling equal to the grandest enterprises, he had longed for

liberty to beard the Spaniard in Northern Mexico. Having been

granted that liberty, had he not been betrayed on his way back

to the Mississippi, he would bave made Starved Rock the strat-

egic base of active operations against Mexicans. All the region

between that post, styled St. Louis, and the South Sea, was sub-

jected to him by his French commission.

Judging by such an experiment, and before the failures in this

direction which followed hard after, it was not unreasonable to

hope for founding feudal baronies far west with French retainers

as henchmen of each dignitary, and a crowd of aboriginal vassals

beneath all the whites; but supporting all by fur and farming in

time of peace, and not less by filling the ranks in time of war.

There still exists an early map of New France with a fort in

every seigniory.

Enterprising I’renchmen, who aspired to the independence of a

medieval nobleman, must needs go west’ in order to find what

First French Foot-Prints Beyond the Lakes. 153

they sought. No populous native tribes still survived east of

Lake Huron. The French were hemmed in by the Hnglish and

Iroquois on the south, while short days and long winters repelled

them from the north. On the other hand, everything allured

them westward —natural highways, mild climate, fertile soil,

prairies that needed no clearing, buffaloes fancied ready to yield

wool and draw the plow, friendly Indians, and — more than all —

elbow room, safe from Canadian dictators. The founders of Mon-

treal had been brow-beaten in Quebec. The vice-governor at

Montreal was not very subordinate to the royal functionary at

Quebec, but more so than the officials upon Ontario and further

were to his own jurisdiction. They were their own masters.

In addition to this, French intrigues in the far west were multi-

plied and intensified by pecuniary interest. Nothing but politi-

cal supremacy in that distant realm could assure prosperity in that

fur-trade where lay their sole hope of money-making.

As soon as they had secured sway in any tribe they first said,

“ Bring all your fur to our factors!”” This point gained, their

second demand was, “ Make your neighbors do likewise, peace-

ably if you can, but forcibly if you must.” Thus it came to pass

that many a brave was butchered to procure beaver for French

whose policy was that of Ausop’s monkey :

“That cunning old pug everybody remembers,

Who, when he saw chestnuts a roasting in embers,

To spare his own bacon, took pussy’s two foots,

And out of the ashes he hustled his nuts.”

Considerations such as these show how powerfully the finesse

of political schemers and the ambitions of feudalism roused the

French to penetrate into the utmost corner of the west. .

The English also, as adventurers, traders, or both, tried to push

into the farthest western wilds. But the French outstripped them,

arrested their factors and explorers and treated them as outlaws.

The motto of the French was:

“Tt shall go hard,

But we will delve one yard below their mines

And blow them at the moon.”

1384 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

The French foundations in the Northwest proved failures.

When French officers gazed at the charge of the six hundred at

Balaklava, they cried out: ‘‘ This is admirable, but it is not

war.” So French foundations in the Northwest were wonderful

beyond all wonder, but they did not constitute a state, one whole

body fitly framed together, which vita] in every part cannot but

by annihilating, die.

The first foundation was Fun. Fun taken in homeopathic

doses is good, butit is by no means substantial food fora life-time

much less fora nation’s life. At all events it either finds or makes

frivolous those to whom it is all inall,— labor and not merely lux-

ury,— business as wellas recreation. If all the year were playing

holidays, to sport would be as tedious as to work. Savage life, how-

ever fascinating at a distance as to the novelist Cooper, or the sen-

timentalist Rousseau, loses romance when viewed: close at hand

as by Parkman domiciliated among Dakctahs— indeed by the

sober second thought of any one capable of appreciating civiliza-

tion and aspiring to progress.

The result was that French fun-lovers, either like Nicolet re-

turned from their sportive sallies to dwell among their own peo-

ple as well as educative and elevating institutions, or on the other

hand, they sunk to the low level of the aborigines around them,

perhaps degraded them still lower by the vices of civilization.

The backwoods maxim proved true; that it is the hardest

thing in the world to make a white man out of an Indian, while

it is very easy to make an Indian out of a white man.

The apostles of faith also failed in the far west. Their want of

success was due in part to the extermination by war and plague

of tribes among whom they ministered, in part to inability to re-

claim other tribes from nomadic habits, and in part to the nature

of their teachings. Their exhibition of Christianity was rather

spectacular than intellectual, more emotional than practical.

Among their maxims I find these: ‘It is God’s will that who-

ever is born a subject should not reason but obey.” ‘Teaching

girls to read is robbing them of time.”” They taught singing but

not reading. No newspaper appeared in New France till after

the British conquest. At an Indian college which had flourished

First French Foot-Prints Beyond the Lakes. 185

‘for a generation Frontenac, relates that no student could speak

French. In spite of all pains pupils proved Calibans or whom

nurture would never stick. Of one that was taken to France at

a tender age, baptized, and learned French wel!, [read that when

brought back to Canada as an interpreter, he became as rude a

barbarian as any one and held fast his barbarism to the end.

Tf the Jesuits had had free course on our Upper Lakes, the result

would have been nations submissive but not self-suflicing, peace-

able but unable to defend themselves — having the personnel of

men but the puerility of children. They had an ordinance to

hasten the physical weaning of Indian children — but their

mental weaning they would never permit.

Frontenac’s report to the home government was: “ The Jesuits

will not civilize the Indians because they wish to keep them in

perpetual wardship. Their missions are hence mockeries.” They

censured La Salle because at his fort he had some fifty Indian

children taught to read and write.

Compared with the sturdy Puritan, the self-reliant Yankee, the

products of Jesuit training would seem those legendary monkeys

who were intended to be men, but whose creation being begun on

Saturday afternoon, was interrupted by the coming on of theSab-

bath, so that they were sent into this breathing world scarce half

made up. Their development remains arrested still. Well is it

said: ‘‘ A man to BE a man must feel that he holds his fate in his

own hands.”

However Jesuits might have succeeded, in blowing up a bub-

ble, bright and polished as glass and iridescent with rainbow hues,

it must have burst at the first rude shock from without, as did the

insubstantial pageant which they conjured up in Paraguay.

A heretic weuld say that their system had not truth enough in

it to make a lasting lie. Hence it was, ‘The perfume and sup-

pliance of a minute.”

The fur-trader rejoiced ina longer success than either the votary

of fun or the apostle of faith. But his occupation too was gone

at length. Far-bearing animals vanished even sooner than the

forests that sheltered them.

Fish began to be taken in Canadian.waters before the first furs

136 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

were trapped on Canadian shores. The fish continue now as mul-

titudinous as ever, while thé fur is no more found. Five anda

half millions have we recently paid for the right to fish in Cana-

dian waters.

Crops springing out of the bosom of the earth are exhaustless

like a living spring. Beasts wandering over its surface, or living

in its dens, pass away, like desert streams in summer, and what

is worse, are never renewed as those streams are.

Beaver Dam as the name of a city in Wisconsin may always

endure, but the cunning handiwork of the beaver, chief favorite

among fur-bearers, is to day scarcely discoverable in all the

State. The beaver’s gone beyond redemption, gone witha gallop-

ing consumption. Not all the quacks with all their gumption, will

ever mend him.

The chief Yankee staple was fish ; that of the French was fur.

The contrast between the races was palpable. Accordingly the

natives named the Yankees Avnshon, which signifies “‘fish,’ and

the French Onontio, that is, “ Big Mountain.” The latter name

may have been suggested by Gallic pomposity. But after labors

manifold the mountain brought forth a mouse, and the fish

swallowed him.

The victims jured on by falsehood or false fancies in pursuit of

a short cut to the farthest Hast, were no less heart breakingly dis-

appointed than the men of fun, fur and faitb.

Their chase in the West of an ever-fleeing Hast, reminds me of

De Soto chasing the phantom of a rejuvenating fountain. Both

long roved in a fool’s paradise, but at length wasted sinewy vigor,

like thirst-parched pilgrims, running after the mirage when the

sultry mist frowns o’er the desert with a show of waters mocking

men’s distress.

But after all both ‘achieved great discoveries, like alchemists,.

not of what they sought, but of whatever was to be found. De

Soto discovered the lower Mississippi, and French visionaries the

upper, its head-waters, the Yellow Stone and the Rocky Moun-

tain backbone of the continent. ‘They were the first who ever

burst into our inmost shrines.

' But their aims were low. At its best their ideal was not to

—

First French Foot-Prints Beyond the Lakes. 137

found nations circled by all that exalts and embellishes civilized

life. It was merely to discover a thoroughfare to the Pacific and

the Indies ready made to their hands. This ideal was never

realized, and under the old regime of the French it never could be.

To make such a pathway, or rather more than royal highway

was a beau ideal reserved for the Anglo-Saxon of our times, and

his ideal was straightway actualized,— the firstlings of his heart

became the firstlings of his hand. Some of us cannot worship

the heroes of our trans-continental roads. Even we, however,

must admit that but for their iron will we should even now re-

joice in no iron ways.

Indians and French — path-finders like Fremont — were a

vapor that appeared for a little time — at most an Indian summer,

Yankees brushing them away, working mines of lead and lum-:

ber, and then extracting agricultural wealth yet more perennial

and wide-spread, have built on firmer foundations, and are efflo-

rescing in a higher style of culture throughout all departments of

life.

The French who occupied the Northwest either as missionaries

among Indians, and those bound by vow. to celibacy, or who

adopted Indian ways of life, naturally proved a race no less

ephemeral than the natives themselves. They vanished all the

sooner bec.use they entered that region insmall numbers. Indeed

French immigrants were nowhere numerous in America.

But had one single feature of French policy been different, the

change in American history would have been great beyond cal-

culation. Huguenots, the only class of Frenchmen ready to leave

Hrance, were not permitted to enter New France. Had they been

welcome there, legions of them would have penetrated its wilds

as far as any fanatical Jesuit or jolly rover. They would have

outnumbered the Hneglish Americans, being driven abroad by

worse persecutions at home. ‘hey would have furnished mate-

rial for such agricultural and manufacturing centers on the Upper

Lakes as Ii Salle vainly strove to found ‘in Illinois.

In the next place, most of those French refugees who enriched

Switzerland, Holland, Germany, England, and divers British col-

onies, especially those on the Atlantic coast, with new arts or old

158 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

ones plied with new skill, would have betaken themselves to

Canada. There no strange language nor strange institutions re-

pelled them. They never willingly expatriated themselves, and in

New France they would have seemed still at home. It has not

been enough noticed that New France was at first founded by

French Protestants, and that the early adventurers thither were of |

the same faith, as well as that outfitters being Calvinists would

not admit Jesuits into their ships. Next, the two religions for a

time there held divided empire. When a priest and a minister

there died on the same day, they were laid in the same grave.

‘Let us see,” it was said, ‘“‘ whether they who have always lived

at war will now lie in peace.” The first petition of Jesuits that

‘reformed religionists,’ so-called, should be forbidden to inhabit

Canada dates from 1621. Rejected at that time by the French

king it was granted six years afterwards.

-Had such been the French foundations in our Northwest, they

might still have stcodstrong there. The Canadians, while scarcely

a tithe of the English, held their own for a century. What if

they bad surpassed them in numbers, as much as they did in

unity, military spirit, and friendship for the aborigines ?

In all likelihood France and England would to-day hold di-

vided empire throughout the territory embraced by the United

States. The settlers;— each race afraid of the other,— would

both have clung to their mother countries, and sought protection

under their wings. During the Napoleonic wars, instead of being

developed by the carryiog-trade of Hurope,— by a inarket there

for all our products, and by dedication to the arts of peace, we

colonists should have been all the while belligerents,— and that

between two fires, pierced by invasions from the west, while our

coast was ravaged and our ports bombarded.

Not a few in this audience are of Huguenot descent. Their

ancestors in all colonial wars must have. fought against those

British provinces for which in fact they fought.

Even if the colonies,— English and French,— had one or both

of them become independent, each race would have forcced the

otber to maintain a standing army of European proportions, to

build a Chinese wall, or line of forts —‘‘the labor of an age in

First French Foot-Prints Beyond the Lakes. 189

piled stones,” — from the Upper Lakes to the Gulf. Border col-

lisions would daily occur. Wars must have been frequent and

chronic.

Again, had the French centuries ago burst into the Northwest

by thousands instead of by scores, they would have planted their

medieval institutions too deeply to be rooted out. Lordsof broad

‘domains would have monopolized the land. Under them would

have been vassals uneducated save to drudgery or death-dealing,

not one in a thousand of them rising above the low level of that

inglorious throng in which they were born. ‘The Texan question

of a witness, ‘Do you write your name like a monk, or make

your mark like a gentleman?” would have been common all the

way from the tropic to the pole.

The masses would have remained clannish retainers of heredi-

tary chiefs. Hach seigniory would have been a section cut out

of France with all the pre-revolutionary enormities carried over

ocean and continent like the angel-borne holy house of Loretto,

and set down in the Mississippi Valley with all its imperfections

on its head.

Even that earthqnake revolution which toppled to the earth

the feudal fabrics of France, would not have extended into the

heart of this continent. It was, in fact, powerless even on the

lower St. Lawrence, so far as not reinforced by British thunder.

_ On the whole, had Huguenots been tolerated from the first in

New France, a million of them would have migrated there, and

its population would have been no less numerousor puissant than

that of British America. All the Huropean colonies in America

would probably still be subject t» their parent states.

At all events they would have so balanced each other, and

their mutual relations would have been so antagonistic, that the

rise, prozress and world-wide influence of those institutions and

that form of society which are distinctively American, would

have been impossible. America would have been Huropeanized.

There is no 100m in the universe for both Christ and Belial. So

there was no room in these United States for both freedom and

feudalism.

Well then may we thank God for the intolerance of Louis

140 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

XIV, or rather for the passing-pleasing tongue of Madam Mainte-

non, which kept that Grand Monarque her unconscious servitor.

Though he meant not so, neither did her heart think so, their pol-

icy was suicidal. They were pioneers clearing the ground for the

undisturbed establishment and expansion of a system — political,

religious, educational, social,— which was ordained by God, and ©

utilized by man, for revolutionizing not only America, but France

and Huarope. May that system of ours pervade the world, endure

forever, and prove a survival of the fittest!

In our northwest French and Indians have stamped their

names forever on many natural features,— lakes, rivers. moun-

tains,and on hamlets which have, or will, bezome cities. But,

while names are French and Indian,— as Chicago and St. Louis,—

all else-—all distinguishing characteristics bespeak the Anglo-

Saxons. They came out from Great Britain in order to build on

a broader basis a Britain yet greater, continental and cosmopoli-

tan, gathering together in one those whom Bibel scattered abroad.

Hence it has come to pass, that in the world’s wide mouth, we to-

day are called, not New French, nor yet New English, nor by the

name of any Europeans whatever, but Americans, now and for-

ever Americans. That cognomen is already all our own, and this

fact I hail as an omen that the continent also in all its length as

well as breadth will be ours ere long;

“THE UNITY AND MARRIED CALM OF STATES.”

APPENDIX.

The following notes and strictures on the preceding paper have been sent

me by Benjamin Sulte, Esq., of Ottawa, Canada, who is in many respects the .

most learned investigator known to me in matters relating to the early

French in Canada.

I am happy to supplement my own studies by his aid. Into whatever in-

accuracies he shows me to have fallen, I am quite sure that his general views

correspond with my own.

It will seem to some readers rather strange if no one of those early French

had been a convict — so that New France was au Eden as free from serpents

as Ireland was ever fancied to have been rendered by St. Patrick.

First French Foot-Prints Beyond the Lakes. 141

M. Sulte says:

Champlain visited himself all the parts of Canada he could reacb, and

sent all round — especially in the direction of the west—as many young

men as he could engage in the enterprise, in order to have them rerdered

familiar with the language, the habits of the Indian4, and the geography of

the country. These efforts of Champlain, from 1609 to 1634, are most re-

markable. He really formed a class of men, usually called interpreters,

which is quite different from the one you allude to (the cowrewrs de bods) and

which stood alone with the Jesuits, on the broad field of discoveries up to

1660, when the other class (courewrs de bois) began to exist. Thus, you have’

put together two different periods quite distinct from one another.

Now, as regards Nicolet’s enterprise towards the Wisconsin region. He

simply acted under Champlain’s orders in this case, the same as he had done

since 1618. There can be no two explanations of the motive that determined

his trip of 1634. Champlain in this was following his old plan of discovery

and alliance with the Indian tribes.

I wish also tostate that the settlers of New France were never chosen from

amongst the convicts of old France. Not a solitary case of that nature can be

proven. We have the most abundant archives and records on the subject of

the origin of the French Canadians that any colony can show. From Louis

Hebert, the first settler, who came in 1617, to 1700, when immigraticn thor-

oughly ceased, every man is recorded in full and the descendants of these set-

tlers still contine to correspond with the branch of the family remaining in

France. If convicts ever came, they must have been hired by the companies

who had the monoply cf the trade — but I don’t believe merchants were ever’

so foolish as to do that. I defy any one to prove a single case of a convict

brought to Canada to settle there. If you possess any document on the sub-

ject, be sure you have something new on hand,— because no such affirmation

ha3 yet been maintained with proper authority. It must also be borne in

mind that the settlers, or habitants, or French Canadians, as they are called,

formed a population separate from the classes engaged in the fur trade or any

other trade. Itisa great mistake to intermix their history. Settlers had

nothing to do with anything else but settling the country; they are the on. y

group of Frenchmeu that have resisted all hostile influences up to now,— the

others have long disappeared. It is true, the settlers’ sons have often turned

to be coureurs de bois and engages of the trading companies, but this was to

the detriment of the habitaut community, i. e., directly the contrary of what

so many historians have said about this question. Far from being an ancient

vagabond, the settler was znvardably a farmer that came from France pur-

posely to establish his family on a farm in Canada. Unfortunately, the re-

¢eruiting of young men, afterwards, from the country places of Lower Canada,

for the purpose of trading in the west, paralyzed the little colony to a great

extent. M. Parkman, whose appreciations are so seldom correct, says that

the colony (1685) was living on the trade carried on with the Indians! What

astupid idea! Such trade was really killing the colony. The fields were

142 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Leilers.

abandoned by the farmers’ sons in the hope that they could make their for-

tunes in the woods. The monopoly destroyed the colony. The habitants

never were in favor of it; they always complained of its results; but what

could they do under the absolute and tyrannical system of Louis XIV. and

the scandalous government of Louis XV. ?,

_Did you ever put this question to yourself: What are the present French

Canadians; where do they come from? Here is the whole question.

The French Canadians are purely and solely the group of farmers that

came from 1617 to 1700, by small bands, under the direction of agents called .

seigneurs, but who were nothing more nor less than agents of colonization,

and men of energy wishing to settle with their families in the new country.

That group is distributed as follows:

4,000 men taken from farms in France.

1,000 men from regiment of Carignan Salicre.

1,500 women that came with their husbands.

2,500 women selected by good authority and sent here to marry with

settlers.

Tn all no more than 9, 000 souls.

These people lived on their Jand and never meddled with the French group

of officials, military men, public servants of all sorts, traders, etc. They

formed the resident population. They alone remained in Canada. They are

the French Canadians, whilst the others were mere Frenchmen. It is a

general mistake of historians to confuse these two classes.

The settler, the habitant, the French Canadian, in brief never begged for

help from France, except in the shape of troops (1637-1665) to chase the

Iroquois,’and in the shape of more settlers (1666-1688) to augment the colony.

All the complaints in the Govenor General’s letters mentioned by Mr. Park-

man bear on those Frenchmen not settled in the country. Those were the

begging class — the same class that ran away at the conquest (1760) to find a

refuge in France. The settlers never regretted them! This accounts for the

facility which the English enjoyed during the first ten years (1760-70) in the

administration of the country.

Allow me to otserve, also, that Champlain had only three men with him

when he ascended the river Ottawa in 1618.

You seem to have no conception at all of what was the Canadian feudal

system. The paragraph (page 59) in which you make allusion to it is so

completely out of the real facts that I cannot but think that you have read

Parkman, who is full of such efforts of imagination. It is true that English

writers are always copying each other when they speak of Canada of old.

The only sources of history for the period in question are written in French;

then study them in the original, and not in the booksof fanciful writers who

have probably never completed the study of the proper documents. Does

any English writer know that the French-Canadians possess 50) volumes

about their own history, besides the enormous manuscript archives at their

disposal? Mr. Parkman is clever enough to make his readers think he dis-

First French ‘Foot-Prints Beyond the Lakes. 143

covered the documents he mentions, but the truth is that he merely ran his

fingers through the 500 volumes in question — half of the time copying full

pages of them witout giving credit, to the author.

-Iam not astonished at that. The province of Ontario, close to that of:

Quebec, is not at all enlightened about the French race in Canada. News-:

papers and books are published there every day that are a repetition of false-.

hoods destroyed fifty times within a century. I was reading last week an»

article about ‘ignorance concerning the French-Canadians,’’ published

twenty miles only from the French province. No wonder that the Ameri-

cans, who are located still further from us, are so completely informed on

our subjects.

Speaking of the northwest, you mention our establishments here. The

fact is that the French trading company had fur trading houses from 1721 to

1753 in that direction; they withdrew their men at the time of the conquest

(1760). Those that remained there were partly Frenchmen of France, partly,

French-Canadian coureurs de bois. From 1760 to 1783 they lived with the

Indians. In 1783 the “northwest? company was founded, and these men got:

hired by them for the trade. The first four white women who were sent to

the Red River with their husbands, about 1810, saw no cultivation there. I

don’t see that we could speak about a colony which never existed. The only

French colony worth looking at was the one established between Quebec and

Montreal — and that one is still in existence. All the rest is a matter of

trade, discoveries, missions, etc., quite distinct from the agricultural-colony.

For want of light on the ensemble of the question — a// the English writ-

ers.resort to their imaginative power to explain what has taken place amongst

us in tse past,— and strange to say they don’t even understand the present

time

- Coming back to Nicolet, I must not forget to tell you that in 1634, there

were hardly one hundred people in the colony —all told, counting French-

men of all sorts possible. Out of that number, we have the names of Nicolet.

Margry, Godefrey, Hertel, Marsolet, Brulé, and two or three others, who

were interpreters. Seven or eight others were employes of the trading com-

pany called the Hundred Partners. Neal, actual, true settlers were altogether

about forty souls — say 7 or 8 families.

The Feudal System of Canada was practically a mechanism for coloniza-

tion and it worked to the satisfaction of all parties interested. It lasted in

full force from 1627 to 1854, without creating any conflict of importance.

Its spirit so admirably adapted to the circumstances of the country and the

necessities of the times, especially from 1626 to about 1700, is not understood

by English-speaking writers generally, but here, in Canada, we know better.

A seigneurte, measuring six miles in front by six or twelve in depth, was

granted to any man willing to bring settiers from France at his own expense,

and provide them during a reasonable time with the requirements of their

new situation. These seigneurs were all, with very few exceptions, men of

pretty good family, but none of any high position, except now and then one

144 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, antl Letters,

like Bishop Laval, who resided here and could superintend affairs through

an employe engaged for that purpose.

In round figures, 159 of those seigneurs obtained lands between 1626 and

1760. Five or six of them were high officials in the colony; seven or eight

officers discharged from their regiments — the rest (130 or more) men who

did not rank with the noblesse in France and who looked to Canada as a

country where they could build a future for themselves. I wonder at the

imagination of Mr. Parkman when he speaks of the Canadian seigneur

fresh from the court of Paris or Versailles! I wish he would name those’

who ever met with the splendor of “le roi-soleil!”

These men were full of courage and the spirit of enterprise. The very’

fact of trying to make a living in Canada and to rise to a higher situation

here than in their mother country, speaks loud in their favor.

They were under obligation to establish settlers on their seigneuries at a

certain rate per annum. For this purpose, they recruited in the villages

where they were best known in France, young farmers with their wives and-

thus formed in each seigneurie a fac-simile of the group leftat home. From

1626 to 1662, each seigneurie was governed after the particular code of law

(coutume) adopted in the part of France which jthey came from. In 1664,

the Coutume de Paris was extended over all the colony. Each settler was’

given a lot measuring three or four acres! in front by forty deep. In this

manner the road from Quebec to Montreal was quickly open for use in all -

sea: ons — because the narrowness of the land made the houses close to each’

other, and instead of having a village — a continuous street of 180 miles in

length was obtained. The king remonstrated against this arrangement — he’

was in favor of villages —but the “ habitans’’ never listened to his objec-

tions. They knew better.

The seignevr was the first amcngst the pioneers, the first to attack the for-

est the first in the field with the plow. After three years, a settler needed no”

more assistance. From that moment, he was able to pay his “ redevance”’ to.

the seigneur. His taxes were partly in money, but more often “ en nature ”—

the whole amounted to about $7 or $10 per annum,—all included, except’

what he had to give the miller when using the mill belonging to the seig-

neur— namely, the 26th part of the flour produced. A seigneur who was the

recipient of $2,000 was a wonderfully rich man. Most of them never re-

ceived more than $700 or $800 per annum.

They were representatives of the people as their seigneurs at Quebec and

elsewhere when required. Their interest was so closely connected with the

welfare of their retainers that no better system of “ deputation ’’ can be con-

ceived, and mark that the laws concerning the administration of seigneur’s

were not in the hands of the seigneurs. Far from that, these laws were

greatly in favor of the tenavts. The consequence is that the seigneurs very

seldom got the betier in their contests with the farmers. These laws, inter-

preted from time to time by the King’s ministers, always ran this way: In

the beginning the seigneur is a father to his clansmen, because he and they

1 By acres arpents each of 180 French feet are probably meant. J. D. B.

First French Foot-Prints Beyond the Lakes, 145

left France together after a long acquaintance, to seek a home in Canada.

But the sons of the seigneurs might turn to be of a different stamp, and we

must have a check on them.

When a tenant wished to have a lot for himself or his sons, he could select

it, and the seigneur had no power to prevent it, nor to tax the lot more than

the usual rate.

The administration of justice was a simple affair. The judge of the seig.

neurie was appointed by the seigneur, subject to the approval of the Gov-

ernor General, and as the habitants had free access to this high official

though their “syndics” and “capitaines de milice,’ every party was con-

sulted before action was taken.”

When the judge of the seigneurie had rendered a judgment, there was an

appeal to the Justice of the Province in which the seigneurie was situated,

4. e. Quebec, Three Rivers, or Montreal—and from there to the Conseil

Souverain of Quebec, presided over by the Governor General. You can see

that the seigneur had only the “ basse ” justice, and that that even was subject

to appeal. As for “moyenne” and “haute” justice, although some seigneurs

can show the words in their parchments, it was never exercised by them.

The seigneur was not necessarily a warrior, as Mr. Parkman so pompously

describes him. Most of the seigneurs never troubled themselves with war.

The militia organization was a separate affair. Some seigneurs’ sons did

mix themselves with the militia, but all they knew of military science was

picked up in hunting on the paternal domain. That class of men became

an anroyance after 1675.or thereabouts. They threw themselves into the

woods and became the famous coureurs de bois or outlaws. They led other

young men — sons of habitants — into that dissipated life.

By the time when settlers ceased to arrive from France (say 1690) the above

vagabonds were a subject of much displeasure in the seigneuries —and

most of the seigneurs had become very poor, owing to the inconsistency of

the administrators of the colony who had brought the whole of the inhabi-

tants under the thumb of the mercantile companies. Then the seigneurial

power began to die, because the country passed virtually under the officials,

traders and the like who had no other ambition than to make money and

oppress the colony for that object.

In brief, the feudal system of Canada was so much liked that nobody

thought of asking for its abolition before 1858, when Upper Canada agitated

the question. Eve now, it exists in many parts of the Province of Quebec,

because it is useful there to this day for the purpose of colonization.

- If the English House of Commons had not rejected the petition of the

twenty counties in the eastern townships peopled entirely by English and

Scotch emigrants, who, as late as 1828, wanted to adopt the French Canadian

feudal system, these counties would have remained English. In fact, they

have been conquered by the French-Canadians whose system of land tenure

is far better than the English for a country like Canada, still sparsely

settled.

146 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

Mh) BELOSOREYTOH i] Ee PAC Obie

By Pror. W. C. SAWYER.

Nothing is quite so real to an animal as the food he eats and

the bed he sleeps upon. We are all animals and something more,

but there is a popular tendency among us to cherish the grossness

of the animal, and to smother and starve the heaven-born part

that struggles for recognition through perceptions more ethereal

than the animal knows, and longings that the animal cannot feel

and that material things can never satisfy.

Assured that the meat by which man really grows is not that

which nourishes the body, we do well to sit at the feet of those

masters who offer to guide us out of this thralldom to the physi-

cal, and open our eyes upon the less palpable, but no less real,

world in the midst of which we so unconsciously walk ; for

“The spirit world is not locked up;

Thy feelings are closed, thy heart is dead.”

— G@THE’s FAvst.

F. H. Jacobi has the distinguished merit of establishing against

Kant the following point: ‘The ‘Critique of Pure Reason” de-

nies that any casual nexus can be found between thinking and

any noumenal object or subject, while the “ Critique of Practical

Reason,” ignoring the principle already laid down, boldly assumes

the transcendental as revealed by the phenomenal. Kant at-

tempted to find some impossible demonstration for that which is

undeniable and needs none, and thus threw a character of uncer-

tainty upon the most positive knowledge that we have.

The work entitled ‘ Divine Things and Their Revelation,” was

Jacobi’s -last, and probably contains the best exposition of his

distinguishing doctrines, especially his “ faith-philosophy.” For

this philosophy its author never claimed a place beside other sys-

tems, but, [perhaps even too hastily and modestly, granted the

argument to philosophers whose conclusions were revolting to

him, but whose methods seemed to him valid. He thus occupied

The Philosbphy of F. H. Jacobi. 147

an anomalous position, which must be explained in one of these

two ways, namely, either Jacobi was in error in supposing that

the head positively demanded pantheism and the heart Christian-

ity, or we are constituted with a cruel and irreconcilable antinomy,

waging perpetual war in the center of our being, and setting one

member against another in a manner for which no development

theory can account, and of which no beneficent Creator could be

guilty. This is the most important error of which Jacobi can be

convicted, as he himself clearly saw. He was fully aware that his

doctrines must break into two opposed systems, one of which

must be false, by the most positive principles of logical opposition.

An antinomy may well lie under the suspicion of being nothing

more than a convenient name under which to cover the short-

sightedness of men. Can‘God’s laws conflict? or can it really be

that both the affirmative and negative of any given proposition

can be supported with equally strong proofs. By any given man,

perhaps they may. Ina boys’ debating club they often are; but

even the boys usually thiuk that, if they knew all, the scale would

promptly turn to one side or the other. With what reason, then,

do men talk of antinomies as soon as the pros and cons seem to

balance? Itis clear that the data upon which rests one of the

conflicting judgments must be either inaccurate or inadequate,

unless there is a fallacy in the logic.

A supposed conflict of laws is sometimes attributed to the error

of applying reason to matters beyond its sphere, as though there

were spheres where reason could mislead, or where it were better,

forsooth, to be unreasonable. Both Locke, in his ‘“‘ Essay Con-

cerning the Human Understanding,’ and Kant, in his “ Critique

of Pare Reason,” have given expression to views of which this

would be a bald, but perhaps not altogether unfair, statement.

Not the excess, but the deficiency, of reason leads to error; and

laws which really conflict must be human. The Creator of the

macrocosm created also the microcosm, and “I doubt not through

the ages one increasing purpose runs.’ Rob the world of the

faith that all things fit into the harmonious plan of the Author of

all, and the philosophy of history, and the grand system of cor-

related sciences, which thrill us witn enthusiastic delight as they

148 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

unfold before us, would, like bright dreams or punctured bubbles,

vanish from the earth. All forms of matter, and all the faculties

of the mind, must be supposed to be governed by harmonious

laws, and enter, as co-ordinate elements, into the plan of the uni-

verse; else we impeach either the power, wisdom, or goodness of

God.

Jacobi’s philosophical creed developed at a time when the pre-

vailiag philosophy was Kant’s, with all the admiration that be-

longed to its freshest triumphs. No other theme was so prominent

as that to which, a century earlier, Locke had drawn very general

attention—the question of the powers and limitations of the

human understanding. After making experience the basis of all

our knowledge, Locke was so unfortunate in his explanation of

the origin of our ideas that Cousin easily convicted him of laying

an excellent foundation for that sensationalism for which Hobbes

and Condillac acknowledged their indebtedness to him, however

distasteful such thanks might be. .

It may not seem unnatural that Hobbes should derive from

Locke’s representative theory of perception his subtile corporeal

spirit to replace the second member of Descartes’ dualism, but it

is far more startling to find Bishop Berkeley, with ‘“‘ every virtue

under heaven,” establishing upon the same basis a thorough going

idealism, and successfully maintaining his ground against the

whole sensational school. To exhaust the strange possibilities of

the case, Hume, again, accepting both Locke and Berkeley, ad-

vanced one fatal but inevitable step further, and, consigning mind

to the same fate that matter had suffered at the hands of Berkeley,

established a skeptical nihilism, which no subsequent philosopher

has been able to refute without revising the whole foundation of

the system upon which it rested. This task called for the genius

of a Kant. He was able to reconstruct the principles of knowl-

edge upon the ruins to which Locke’s system had been reduced by

the twofold reductio ad absurdum of Berkeley and Hume. In

doing so, however, though he gained the foremost place among

the metaphysicians of his age, he committed an error hardly in-

ferior to Locke’s, and quite as difficult to throw off. Locke per-

ceived only images of things, that, so far as he could show, might

The Philosophy of F. H. Jacobi. 149

have no corresponding external objects behind them. Kant, on

the other hand, perceived only phenomena, and knew nothing of

the things in themselves, which are manifest only in the phenom-

ena. Tor both alike objects were implied as the originals of the

images of the one, and as the principals behind the phenomena

of the other. Both alike have furnished a basis upon which log-

ical minds have built up systems that have violated the plainest

dicta of common sense. LHvery body but a few philosophers

thinks he knows that he walks in an actual physical world, and

among other men like himself, while; according to Locke and

Kant, pure reason teaches nothing of the sort; but rather that

the world which we see is within us, and that we may be dream-

ing as truly in our waking as in our sleeping hours. Goethe ap-

preciates this situation very well when he makes Faust say that

this philosophy leaves him ‘‘as great a fool as he was before;”

and then, in despair of knowing anything, turn to the sensual en-

joyments of the world.

From the particular error of Locke philosophy has largely, but

not altogether, recovered ; and from Kant’s it isslowly recovering.

To this end Jacobi has contributed the earliest and best assistance,

by showing that sensation testifies not more positively of the

so-called secondary qualities of bodies than of their objective

actuality, as will be more fully shown in the proper connection.

But Vichte contributed toward the correction of Kant’s error

in a way similar to that in which Berkeley had exposed the

weakness of Locke. ‘Fichte inquired whether it was true that

an actual objective world caused the subjective phenomena, as

Kant evidently assumed. In his investigation of this problem

he found in his consciousness the sensation, and from these in-

ferred the objective, not in the relation of cause, but as the effect

or product of the active mind. He accordingly gave a confident

negative to his own query, and adopted the full consequence

of the error in the central doctrine of his philosophy — that “all

cognition is a self-activity which pergeives only its own self-

activity.”

When Schelling replied to Fichte’s reasoning, that we might

with equal propriety reverse his process, and suppose the sub-

150 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letiers.

jective to result from the objective, then the claims of both to

priority were recognized as equal; and both Fichte, in his latter

days, and Schelling, admitted that an absolute existence underlies

all phenomena.

A very important further modification of the philosophy of

knowledge was achieved by Hegel, and still attracts great atten-

tion. He united the subjective and the objective into such a

union that the latter was implied in the former. The phenomena

which we perceive were regarded as having the same character

objectively as subjectively. ‘‘The ground of their being,” said

Hegel, ‘‘is not an unknown essence immediately behind the phe-

nomena, but the absolute idea.’ Thus constituted, absolute

idealism makes a radical contrast with the subjective idealism

of Fichte.

This system of Hegel, first offered for publicatfon in Jena,

during the bombardment of that city by Napoleon, is a little

later in its origin than the faith philosophy of Jacobi; never-

theless, Jacobi is, in a certain sense, the representative of an

elementary form of the latest philosophic thought. What the

philosophy of the future is to be, no man can confidently tell;

but it may not be too bold to predict that what Jacobi felt, but

dared not say he knew, will yet find many to recognize its philo-

sophical validity.

The chief claim of Jacobi to recognition among philosophers

rests upon his doctrine that we have a direct intuitive knowledge

of the suprasensible —that we see it with the “reason” as traly

as we see physical objects with the eye. ‘This doctrine has

usually been regarded as enthusiastic, and its author sometimes

set down among the Mystics of Germany. The degree of re-

proach implied in the terms enthusiastic and mystic varies with the

persons who use them. When enthusiam is charged as equiva-

lent to fanaticism, and mysticism as implying obscurity and error,

they simply beg the question at issue. A legitimate enthusiasm

is what Jacobi claimed; and if we translate the Greek elements —

of the word (2 Qedc) as “God within,” the meaning is rescued

from all implication of error. Fanaticism is as far from the best

sense of enthusiasm as rage from anger — to borrow a simile from

Voltaire.

The Philosophy of F. H. Jacobi. 151

The quest of philosophy has ever been, before all else, for the

efficient cause of nature. ‘This cause does not appear in the neb-

ular hypothesis, or in the atomic theory; for science cannot

account for the first movements of either. Locke did not find it,

for he had no secure hold upon anything objective. Kant did

not find it in the pure reason, for pure reason could know nothing of

any thing in itself. Jacobi found a first cause, he was sure, but

only in his heart — there was not quite room enough for it in his

head. He claimed that this, together with some other knowledge,

is impressed upon the soul without the intervention, in any way,

of physical organs. The philosophy of Locke does not willingly

admit any impressions upon the tabula rasa of the mind apart

from the products of sensation and their combinations. Jacobi’s

claims must, accordingly, be positively refused, or some of the

principles abandoned which have been maintained, or tacitly ad-

mitted, by a multitude of philosophers. The tabula-rasa simile

has been convicted of fault in the implication that the mind is a

cold and dead slate, that simply holds, without addition or change,

whatever is committed to it. If this were so, there would be

for us no external world —all primary qualities of matter would

be forever shut out of the mind, for no sensation ever resembled

any one of them. Secondary qualities are purely subjective.

They not only do not resemble in the least their immediate phys-

ical causes, but even these do not reside in the bodies to which

we refer the qualities as by instinct, while the inferred concause,

which 7s in the body, is beyond tbe reach of our investigation. It

must be, then, that we are indebted to certain original energies of

the mind for all that we know of the external world, even after

sensation has revealed ail that in the nature of the case is possible,

Kant insists upon the testimony of sensation as essential to the

validity of mental products. Jacobi insists that he sees a light,

which to the physical eye is invisible. Is he mistaken? or is

Kant’s requirement unessential ?

A sensation is a feeling awakened in the mind through the me-

dium of an organof sense. This sensation becomes a perception

when referred to the external object which occasioned it; thus

do we acquire all our knowledge of the outward world. What,

152 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters,

then, are the essential elements in the formation of any perception ?

Before all, something must be impressed upon the consciousness.

Sensations depend solely upon the nerves to convey them to the

conscious subject. Any interruption of their career toward the

brain puts an end to them, or rather, there being no sensation in

the consciousness, none exists anywhere. If, therefore, sensation

is essential to perception, then nerves are likewise essential. But

nerves are only the menial organ which serves mysteriously to con-

vey impressions to the mind, without, in ordinary perceptions,

revealing themselves,to the consciousness. Some perceptions, more-

over, such as the perception of relations, are generally recognized

as being independent of all sensation. So, too, causation, time,

and identity, must be perceived, if at all, without the help of any

mechanism, since in their nature they are impalpable. No par-

ticular character in the object, therefore, can be pronounced es-

sential to mental perception; immaterial principles are perceived

as clearly as granite hills.

It thus appears that the practical objective conditions which

now limit perception may be purely casual. Only two elements

remain which can be shown to be essential in the perception of all

things objective. These are feeling and reflection; feeling, be-

cause it is the condition of both sensation and consciousness, and

whatever is not felt in either of these ways cannot in any mnanner

make itself known; and reflection, because feeling is not thought,

and no knowledge can result from feeling simply as feeling, any

more than we can become cognizant of a present physical object

without looking upon it to discover its qualities. Reflection in-

terprets feeling into terms of thought. This is done spontaneously,

to be sure, and seems to attend rather than foliow the feeling —

what obviously follows being inference rather than intuition.

Both these essential conditions being met, the source or cause of

the feeling does not affect the validity of the consequent percep-

tion. The feeling itself is sufficient evidence of the actuality of

its cause; its nature isa distinct problem. ‘ Whoever says he

knows,” observes Jacobi, “ we properly ask him whence he knows.

He must then depend at last upon one of these two things, either

upon sensation or upon soul-feeling.”’ All knowledge resting on

The Philosophy of F. H. Jacobi. 153

the latter Jacobi denominated “ faith,” and he doubtless enjoyed the

same assurance of his “ faith” as of his material possessions. Yet

it was Jacobi who cast upon this assurance the reproach of being

unphilosophical. That reproach commends the modesty of the

philosopher more than his logical powers. It must be set down

as his weakness that he dared not maintain as legitimate the

firmest convictions of his soul, simply because the method by

which he reached them was not philosophically orthodox in his

day.

The best use of philosophy is, doubtless, to regulate human

conduct ; and that which is unphilosophical should accordingly be

abandoned. Why not, then, abandon every thing which is given

us by the intuition of reason and from no better source? Why

not give up the notion of an external world? Simply because

the universal conviction of the race makesit impossible. Men do

not wait for the formal decisions of philosophers upon questions

which find uniform answers in their own clearest intuitions. No

contradiction of this decision would command their respect.

Again, why not abandon the notion of a First Cause presiding

over the universe and governing it according to the intelligent de-

terminations of an unrestrained volition? ‘The answer is to the

same effect as the former, Because all races and tribes under the

sun hold some faith in a god to whom they are responsible and

expect to give account. The argument from common consent

must not be despised. Philosophy cannot ignore it without itself

being rejected. It rests upon intuitions which are universal and

necessary, and which no authority is competent to gainsay.

Jacobi allows a logical validity to the pantheism of Spinoza,

but it affords no satisfaction to the desires of his soul. His spirit

rejects pantheism, while his reason accepts the demonstration on

which it rests. His spirit, on the one hand, clings to the “‘ faith,”

which his understanding cannot approve. Fully conscious of

this paradox, Jacobi declared, “‘ There is light in my heart, but

when I attempt to bring it into my understanding, it goes out.”

What loyalty to the conclusions of a syllogism built upon false

premises and doing violence to the strongest and purest intuitions

of the soul! A weaker “ faith” would have surrendered to so strong

154 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Leiters.

a conviction of the demands of the understanding. A stronger

logical faculty would have scorned the ambiguous position which

Jacobi under protest occupied. It may not be evident which was

the weaker, his “faith” or his reason, but his preference between

the horns of his dilemma was unmistakable and strong. The

sphere of the simple understanding he plainly calls inferior, since

it sadly disappoints the highest aspirations of which we are capa-

ble. These are satisfied in the intuitions of the divine, in which

Jacobi realizes the highest of all possible objective revelations.

To rescue these intuitions from the fatal monism of Spinoza,

Jacobi deliberately sacrificed his philosophy, such as it was, in

favor of his faith. From that moment he formed a marked con-

trast with Spinoza. The latter knew no personal God; Jacobi

ever felt his presence and heard his voice. Spinoza knew no

causes except as immanent in matter and necessary ; Jacobi recog-

nized a Final Cause, and was conscious of his own freedom, and

of his own accountability. Spinoza consequently enjoys a pas-

sionless repose, fearing nothing and hoping nothing, and witness-

ing the dissolution of his body with a stolid resignation, regarding

his decay as another proof of his brotherhood with the clod.

Jacobi, however, quick with the pulsations of ‘an endless life,

stretching eagerly forward to catch glimpses of the dawning of

the bright to-morrow of his soul’s desire, is by no means satisfied

with the realizations of this life, but is more than satisfied with

its hopes.

With Fichte and his ideal projection of subjective images

Jacobi felt considerable sympathy. Tichte’s soul was quick to

recognize the spiritual forces of the universe, but he did not per-

ceive their objective character. At this point Jacobi resists again

an apparently valid conclusion in the clear light of his own in-

tuitions. He was sure he saw, in the moral order of the world,

a Father’s hand; Fichte saw only a reflection of his own volitional

activity. Such intolerable consequences of the reasoning of his

metaphysical contemporaries, Jacobi escaped by resorting to the

oracles of a higher authority. ‘‘ There dwells within us,” he said,

‘Ca spirit seat immediately from God, constituting the most essen-

tial part of our human nature. As this spirit is present to man

The Philosophy of F. H. Jacobi. 155

in his highest, deepest, and most personal consciousness, so the

Giver of this spirit, God himself, is present to man through his

heart just as nature is present to him through his senses. No

sensible object can so seize upon the mind and irresistibly prove

itself real, as those absolute objects, the true, the good, the beau-

tiful, and the sublime, which can be seen with the eye of the

spirit. We venture the bold speech that we believe in God be-

cause we see him, although he cannot be seen with the eye of

this body.” This spiritual vision is quite as clear as the physical ;

it is attended with no less feeling immediately produced in the

soul, than comes to the soul through the office of the outward

eye. Itis not the eye that sees, but the soul by means of the

eye. Such seeing is mediate, while Jacobi, if he sees God at all,

must see him immediately, with no Moses and no organ of sense

to stand between. Actual perception is not denied to sensation

when it is referred to its cause. Who shal] dispute that this in-

tuition of an invisible Deity possesses at least as high claims to

the character of a real perception as the sensations, exposed as

they are to the defects of the physical body? May not the in-

tuition even have some advantage, in the certainty of the objective

existence over mediate knowledge, at least to the subject of it?

Sir William Hamilton maintains that in intuition cognition is

given unconditionally as a fact, while, in all representative per-

ception, the cognition is problematical. Should it be objected

that Hamilton assumed, in the intuition of which he speaks, that

the mind is conscious of only its own modification without rela-

tion to any object beyond the sphere of consciousness, it ought to

be sufficient to show that Jacobi’s claims find ample room for

realization under the careful definitions of this most astute phi-

losopher. We do not understand Jacobi to claim that his intu-

itions reach to a cause, which, as perceived, is outside of himself,

but rather that this knowledge is simple, and contains in it, as

Hamilton himself says, ‘nothing beyond the mere consviousness,

by that whicn knows, of that which is known.” This conscious-

ness of necessity cannot reach out and take hold of the external ;

but if the external be spiritual in its nature, as it cannot impress

itself upon any physical sense, so no physical barrier can obstruct

156 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters. -

its approach to the center of thought and feeling. Accordingly,

Jacobi can say that ‘God himself is present to man in the

heart,’ and that the human spirit contains “a shadow of the

divine knowledge and will.”

In this light we can understand our philosopher’s meaning

when he maintains that man reveals God, while nature conceals

him:

“But is it unreasonable to confess that we believe in God, not by reason of

the nature which conceals him, but by reason of the supernatural in man,

which alone reveals and proves him to exist? Nature conceals God; for

through her whole domain nature reveals only fate, only an indissoluble

chain of mere efficient causes without beginning and without end, excluding

with equal necessity both providence and chance. . . . Man reveals God ;

for man, by his intelligence, rises above nature, and in virtue of this intelli-

gence is conscious of hims-1f as a power not only independent of but opposed

to nature, and capable of resisting, conquering and controlling her. As man

has a living faith in this power, superior to nature, which dwells in him; so

has he a belief in God, a feeling, an experience of his existence.”

This doctrine is perfectly consistent, as Jacobi claims, with the

criticism of Kant, though it cannot be harmonized with the doc-

trines of Spinoza. Indeed, Kant’s demonstration that the pure

reason finds no certainty in practical things, not only admitted

but even called for Jacobi’s doctrine of a direct intuitive cogni-

tion of things-in-themselves. This intuition tramples upon the

mechanism theory of the universe, and, rising above the defects

of demonstration, gazes boldly upon the revealed face of the one

great Cause that reason had long ago declared to be immanent in

all forms of being and becoming.

This noblest function of the soul Jacobi did not uniformly de-

nominate ‘faith,’ especially in his later writings. ‘This term was

too liable to be understood to imply a blind, irrational belief on

the mere authority of others. To avoid so great a misconception

of his doctrine Jacobi used the term “reason” ( Vernunft), mean-

ing, not the logical faculty, but the power to perceive directly in

contrast with the understanding which is confined to the range of

the demonstrable. The term ‘ faith,” therefore, when used by

Jacobi, implied the surest possible kind of knowledge, but a

knowledge which in its very nature cannot be communicated to

The Philosophy of F. H. Jacobi. 157

another by a syllogistic method. This is why the light in the

heart was quenched when brought into the understanding. That

light conveyed the divine image, which in the order of nature

must be felt in order to be known. We cannot always describe

what we have seen with our natural vision ; much less can we ex-

pect to impart to another the first fruits of our spiritual seeing.

The Apostle Paul said it was not lawful to utter the things which

were revealed to him when “caught up into paradise.” Simi-

larly, doubtless, it is unlawful — zmposszble on account of the dis

abilities of our nature — for a man to formulate and communicate

to another all of the religious experiences of his heart, even after

they have so entered into his being that torture and death cannot

induce him to deny them. ‘This is the philosophy of the be-

liever’s testimony, daily declared in the sanctuary and daily dis-

puted in the mart, “ I know that my Redeemer liveth.”

Owing to a lack of this experience the unbelieving naturally

question the legitimateness of this faith, or at least ask the be-

liever to prove a necessary connection between the mental phenom-

ena on which he rests his faith and any objective cause. Suppose

we make a similar demand of themselves. Can they show any

necessary connection between the best established facts in science

and any objective cause? All knowledge hangs upon a chain,

some links of which are hidden, so that, without the exercise of

a large practical faith, no science would be possible. When we

trace the phenomena involved in a single perception of an out-

ward object through the eye, we are charmed with the delicate

offices of different parts of that organ; but when the light, in

obedience to optical laws, has painted a beautiful inverted image

of the object on the fine tissue of the retina, the physical phenom-

ena of vision can be traced no further; they cease or disappear

as motion, or physical change, and re-appear at once as intel-

lectual perception— something which bears no discoverable re-

semblance to any of the physical phenomena of seeing. The

chain of causes in all perceptions goes out of sight, some links

are hidden. Aue

According to Lotze,' ‘“‘ We shall never be able to prove that it

'Mikrokosmus, vol. i., p. 161; Leipzig. 1856.

158 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

lies in the nature of any motion . . . of itself to cease as

motion and be reproduced as illuminating brilliancy, as sound, or

as sweetness of taste.” The motion here referred to is the sensi-

ble or physical part of the phenomena of sensation. The causal

nexus between a wave, whether in the eve or in the air, and the

mental conception of light, no man has ever discovered, but the

scientist and the philosopher alike, together with universal human-

ity, accept with a practical assurance that cannot be shaken the

testimony of their consciousness to the objective reality of the

things perceived through any organ of sense. In unscientific

terms, then, we may say that we know the things within reach of

our senses because we /eel them.

Feeling is the function of all the afferent nerves, and in some

mysterious way we hear, taste, see, etc., by feeling. Ali the

mechanism of our organs of sense is necessary to bring the phys-

ical within the grasp of the spiritual. By the aid of this mechan-

ism we feel, as science insists, not the object, but some quality of

the object appropriate to the sense in exercise. The universal

consciousness, however, will have it that we feel a body thus and

thus conditioned or qualified. Science says we feel the broad

waves of light, or, practically, the redness of a physical body.

Consciousness maintains that we see a red body. It is hazardous

to quarrel with universal consciousness. Moreover, it would be

unreasonable to reject, concerning the character of the phenom-

ena, the testimony of the only authority by which its actuality

had been, or could be, established. We dare not, therefore, ban-

ish the physical universe from our philosophy; we cannot banish

it from our consciousness. God himself, in fashioning us so that

we are thus compelled to recognize in our daily lives an objective

universe, has involved his own veracity in the validity of these

intuitions of our consciousness.

If we admit, as we seem forced to, that mind and matter can

communicate, while their natures are so very unlike, much less

should it be thought incredible that mind should be able to con-

vey thought to another mind of the same nature. No mechanism

can simplify or explain the perception of the physical; it simply

makes it mysteriously possible. The same intuitional power that

The Philosophy of F. H. Jacobi. 159

magically reveals to usa physical universe and enforces its ac-

ceptance may similarly discover the Cause of the universe and

enforce a belief in that Cause. This it does, and no human race

is known that has not some notion of God.

Clearer and more full than this universal faith are the direct

revelations to the spiritually minded, who, like Socrates and

Jacobi, seem to have found a shorter way to the knowledge of

God than through the regularly accredited prophets. This per-

sonal inspiration seems to resemble, in the strength of the convic-

tion which it carries, that instinct which Kant has denominated

“ the voice of God.” Brute instinct is concerned with nothing but

what is essential to the well-being of the species. All this it fails

not to supply. Birds know how to build nests, but they do not

know how they know, or what principles require them to build

as they do. Men no more about the instincts that supplement

reason in their own species. God supplies whatever is out of

reach that is essential to any of his creatures. In endowing man

with a soul God fixed upon him another necessity quite as urgent

as the preservation of his body, namely, the preservation of his

soul. The Creator is, then, under an equal, or still greater, obli-

gation to supply whatever is demanded by the interests of our

spiritual nature. It is not unreasonable, therefore, that we should

listen for the voice of God in a new revelation. Jacobi and mill-

ions more say they hear it. They find revealed in it the

Almighty and an endless life. They touch, as it were, the supra-

sensible, and know it by a sort of spiritual empiricism. They are

profoundly convinced. The demonstrations of the spirit are irre-

sistible, but if denied, they can no more be forced upon a skeptic

than the axioms of geometry.

We cannot too highly applaud the opinion of Victor Cousin,

that “the error of Jacobi’s school was not to see that this truth-

speaking enthusiasm is only a purer and higher application of

reason, in such manner that faith has its root in reason.” This

‘“‘ enthusiasm,” in the mouth of Cousin, suggests no reproach, but

rather implies a reason which flies while the syllogism creeps. It

must be conceded also that this slower method is, by its very

nature, debarred from ever demonstrating the infinite, and thus

160 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

solving the most essential problems of religion and philosophy;

for by the syllogism we can advance to no conclusion except

through a more general conception. The term which must thus

be included under another cannot contain the Deity, or satisfy the

conditions of monotheism. The Highest, therefore, cannot possi-

bly be reached through formal reasoning, and some other resource

must be depended upon for this necessity of the soul. Nothing

but Jacobi’s intuitive cognition can yield the personal apocalypse

of God.

When the clear testimony of consciousness is universally

recognized as valid, then not only will Jacobi command an un-

qualified respect among philosophers; but objective science, as

well as religion, will find a rational foundation, and, according to

the claim of Drobisch, we shall realize in the philosophy of religion

“the key-stone of the philosophical arch.”’

The “Axaé Asyopeva in Shakspere. 161

THE “Arog Acyousva IN SHAKSPERE.

Omnia rara preclara; ipsa raritate rariora.

By JAmeEs DaviE Butter, LL. D.

When we examine the vocabulary of Shakspere what first

strikes us is its copiousness. His characters are countless, and

each one speaks his own dialect. His little fishes never talk like

whales, nor do his whales talk like little fishes. This impression

of mine grows stronger when I read in the Encyclopedia Britannica ;

‘the language assigned to each character is made suitable to it,

and to no oiher, and this with a truth and naturalness which the

readers and spectators of every following age have recognized.”

Those curious in such matters have espied in his works quota-

tions from seven foreign tongues, and those from Latin alone

amount to one hundred and thirty-two.

Our first impression that the Shaksperian variety of words is

multitudinous is confirmed by statistics. The titles in Mrs.

Cowden Clarke’s Shaksperian Concordance, counted one by one

by a friend have been ascertained to be more than twenty-four

thousand. The total vocabulary of Milton’s poetical remains is

more nearly seventeen than eighteen thousand (17,577) ; and that

of Homer including the hymns as well as both Iliad and Odys-

sey is scarcely nine thousand. Five thousand eight hundred and

sixty words exhaust the vocabulary of Dante’s Divina Commedia.

In the English Bible the different words are reckoned by Mr. G.

P. Marsh in his lectures on the English language, at rather fewer

than six thousand. Renan’s estimate is 5,642. The number of

titles, however, in Cruden’s Concordance has been found to be

greater by more than a thousand, namely 7,209. Those in Rob-

inson’s lexicon of the Greek Testament I have learned by actual

count to be about five thousand five hundred.

Some German writers on Greek grammar believe they could

teach Plato and Demosthenes useful lessons concerning Greek

moods and tenses, even as the ancient Athenians, according to

the fable of Phaedrus, undertook to prove that a pig did not

ily

162 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

know how to squeal so well as they did. However this may be,

any one of us to-day, thanks to the Concordance of Mrs. Clarke,

and the Lexicon of Alexander Schmidt, may know much con-

cerning Shakspere’s use of language which Shakspere himself

could not have known. One particular as to which he must have

been ignorant, while we may have knowledge, is regarding his em-

ployment of “Aras deyopeva.

The phrase “drag Asyopeva, literally “once spoken,’ may be

traced back to the Alexandrine glossographers centuries before

our era, who invented it to describe those words which they ob-

served to occur once, and only once, in any author or literature.

It is so convenient an expression for statistical commentators on

the Bible, and on the classics as well, that they will not willingly

let it die. The synonomous phrase “dzaé e¢oyueva is also a favor-

ite with some Germans, but if we accent it according to its Greek

accents, it is hard to pronounce, and I accordingly eschew it. So

does Autenrieth in his Homeric dictionary.

Style is modified by the presence of such words —a moment

bright, then gone forever. Grcek critics were early sensitive to

this subtle influence on style and therefore catalogued those

words which produced it.

The list of “dzaé Aeyoueva,— or words used once, and only once,

in Shakspere, is surprisingly large. Those words ar2 more than

any man can easily number. Nevertheless I have counted those

beginning with two letters. The result is that the “Azad Asyopeva

with initial A are 864, and those with initial M are 310.

I have no reason to suppose the census with these initials to be

proportionally greater than that with other letters. If it is not,

then the Shaksperian words occurring only once cannot be fewer

than 5,000, and they are probably a still greater legion.

The number I have culled from 146 pages of Schmidt is 674.

At this rate the total on the 1,409 pages of the entire lexicon

would foot up 6,504. Itis possible then that Shakspere discarded,

after once trying them, more different words than fill and enrich

the whole English Bible. The old grammarians sail their term

supine was so named because it was very seldom employed, and

therefore was almost always lying on its back. The supines of

Shakspere outnumbered the employes of most authors.

The “Axa§ Acyopeva in Shakspere. 163

No notices of Shaksperian “Aza deyovsva had come to my

knowledge when my attention was first called to that theme. In

the midst of my investigation, however, I observed a statement

in the London Academy (No. 402, p. 48) that some English scholar

had counted no less than 549 words in the single play of Henry

V. that are no where else discoverable in the Shaksperian dramas.

It may also be worth noting that the first line which Shakspere

ever wrote, or at least published, namely :

“ Even as the sun with purple-colored face,”

contains a compound which he thenceforth and forever refrained

from repeating.

The multitude of Shaksperian “Azaé Aeyopeva appears still more

surprising if we compare it with expressions of the same class in

the Seriptures and in Homer.

In the English Bible the “Aza Aeyoveva with the initials A 69

and M 68 are in all one hundred and thirty-two, to 674 under the

same initials in Shakspere. These Biblical terms would be more

than twice as many as we find them if as numerous in proportion

to their total vocabulary as his are.

The Homerie “Azaé Aeyoysva with initial M are 78. But if as

numerous in proportion to Homer’s whole world of words as

Shakspere’s are, they would run up to 186; that is, to more

than twice as many as their actual number.

In the Greek New Testament I have counted sixty-three ’dza&

Acyoveve. commencing with the letter M, a larger number than you

would expect, for it is as large as that in the whole English Bible

commencing with the same letter, which is also exactly sixty-

three. This fact indicates in Paul and others who wrote the

Greek Testament a wider range of expression thna their English

translators could boast.

The Shaksperian ° Aza Aeyoyeva with initial M.— which amount

to over three hundred (810), I have also compared with the whole

verbal inventory of the English language so far as it begins with

that letter. T’o my surprise they make up almost one-fifth of

that stock, which on the authority of the Nation (vol. XX, p.

345.) can muster only 1,641 words, with initial M.

You will at once inquire: “ What is the nature of these re-

164 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

jected Shaksperian vocables, which he seems to have viewed

either as milk that would bear no more than one skimming” or

rather as ‘‘ beauty too rich for use for earth too dear?”” The per-

centage of classical words among them is great, greater indeed

than in the body of Shakspere’s writings. According to the

analysis of Weisse, in an average hundred of Shaksperian words

one third are classical and two thirds Saxon. But then, he adds,

all the classical elements have inherent meaning, while half of

the Saxon have none. The result is that of the significant words

in Shakspere one half are of classical derivation.

Now of the “Aza deyoueva with initial A, I call 262 words out

of 364 classical, and 152 out of 310 with initial M, that is 414

out of 674, or about four-sevenths of the whole host commencing

with those two letters.

In doubtful cases I have classed those words only as classical,

the first etymology of which in Webster is from a classical or

Romance root. In the Biblical ’4AzaF Aeyoyeva the classical factor

is enormous, namely not less than 69 per cent., while even in

Shaksperian words of the same class it is no more than sixty-one.

Again, among the 674 A. and M. “Aza dsyoyeva the proportion

of words now obsolete is unexpectedly small. Of 810 with initial

M, only one sixth or fifty-one at the utmost are now disused

either in sense, or even in form. Of this half hundred a few were

used in Shakspere, but are not at present as verbs, as to maculate,

to miracle, to mud, to mist, to mischief, to moral. Also, merchan-

dized and musicked.

Another class, now rarely written, are mzsproud, misdread, map-

pery, mansionry, marybuds, masterdom, mistership, mistressship.

Then there are slight variants from our orthography or mean-

ings, as mained for maimed, markman for marksman, make for

mate, makeless for mateless, mirable, mervailuus, mess for mass,—

manakin, mintkin, meyny for mary, momentany for momentary,

misgraffing, mountainer, moraler, misanthropos, mott for motto, to

mutine, minutely every minute.

None seem wholly dead words except the following eighteen.

To mammock tear, mell meddle, mose mourn, micher truant, mome

fool, mallecho mischief, naund basket, marcantant merchant, mun

The “Ara& Ascyopeva in Shakspere. 165

sound of the wind, mure wall, meacock henpecked, mop grin,

militarist soldier, murrion affected with murrain, mammering

hesitating,— mered only,— mowntant raised up.

The “Arag Aeyopeva in Shakspere are often so beautifal and poet-

ical that we wonder how they could fail to be his favorites again

and again, for they are jewels that might hang twenty years be-

fore our eyes yet never lose their luster. Why were they never

shown but once?

They remind me of the exquisite crystal bowl from which I

saw a Jewess and her bridegroom drink in Prague and which was

then dashed in pieces on the floor of the synagogue, or of the

Chigi porcelain painted by Raphael which, as soon as it had been

once removed from the table, was thrown into the Tiber. To

what purpose was this waste? Why should they be used up with

once using? Even the Greek drama that would never presume

to let a God appear but for an action worthy of a God, was not so

pervaded with horror of too much.

Some specimens of this class which all writers but Shakspere

would have often paraded as pets, are such words as magical,

mirthful, mightful, merriness, majestically, marbled, martyred,

mountainous, magnanimity, magnificence, marrowless, matin, mas-

terpiece, masterdom, meander, mellifluous, menaces, mockable,

monarchize, moon-beams, motto, mundane, mural, multipotent,

mourningly, ete.

About one-tenth of the remaining “Aza Asyoueva with initial M,

are descriptive compounds. Nearly all of them are among the

following twenty-six adjectives: mazden-tongued, maiden-widowed,

man-entered, many-headed, marble-breasted, marble-constant, marble-

hearted, marrow-eating, mean-appareled, merchant-marring, mercy-

lacking, mirth-moving, moving-delicate, mock-water, more-having,

mortal-breathing, mortal-lving, mortal-staring, motley-minded, mouse-

eaten, moss-grown, mouth-filling, mouth-made, muddy-metiled, mard-

pale, momentary-swift:

From this list, which is nearly complete, it is evident that such

compounds as may be multiplied at will by a word coiner form

but a small proportion of the words that are used once only by

Sbakspere.

166 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

Again, a majority of Shaksperian “Azaé Asyoyeva being familiar

to us as household words, and needful to us as daily food, it seems

impossible that he who had cared to use them once should have

need of them no more.

Some specimens, all with initial M, are the words, mechanics,

machine, maxim, mission, monastic, mode, marsh, magnify, ma-

jority, malcontent, malignancy, manly (as an adverb), malleable,

manna, maratime, manslaughter, market-day,—folks,—maid,—price,

masterly, mealy, meekly, miserably, mercifully, mindful, memo-

rial, mention, merchant-like, mercenary, memorandums, mercurial,

meridian, medal, metropolis, mimic, metaphysics, ministration, to

moderate, misapply, misconstruction, misgovernment, misquote,

monster-like, monstrously, monstrosity, moneyed, monopoly, mu-

table, moriised, mortise, muniments, mother-wit.

The letter J/, which has been the staple of the present paper,

is probably a fair representative of Shakspere’s diction in regard to

words which he would term ‘‘seld-shown.” The subject, how-

ever, deserves to be treated more exhaustively. Hvery letter

ought to be investigated as a single one bas now been, and more

abundantly. Nor would the labor be arduous, if the task were

assumed by any Shaksperian club and divided among a score of

its fellows, as the work of lexicography was among the forty

members of tlre French academy. Such an examination would

conclusively confirm, or confute, the conclusions to which the

facts now set forth have led. It would also suggest others, and

those of still greater interest.

In drawing up catalogues of once-used words, if such a set

of co-laborers would append to each word the name of the play in

which it occurs, the Shaksperian dramas could be easily compared

in a manner which has never hitherto been possible. The “Azas

deyousva in each particular play would be readily drawn out ina

table. Then it would at once become manifest how far the num-

ber of such words varied in different works, and whether it was

greatest in the early, or middle, or latest period of Shaksperian

productivity. ;

In a casual reading of Cymbeline and Henry VIIL, more than

three score words in each that are elsewhere unfound have struck

The “Anas Aeyopsva in Shakspere. 167

my eye, but more hundreds must have been passed unnoticed.

Aside from the 549 once-used words in Henry V., already men-

tioned, I know not that such verbal statistics have been gathered.

But they would not be without manifold utilities. They would

aid in judging by style concerning the genuineness of doubtful

passages. They would show how far Shakspere’s alms-basket of

such words, which he calls “ fire-new,” continued to the last, like

charity, which never faileth.

The array of once-used words which has been drawn up in the

present writing must, as I think, surprise any one who passes

them in review. The further one pushes research in the same

line, the more his wonder will grow. Of compounds with the

pre-fix ve, like reiterate and resignation, he will discover one hun-

dred and fifty lacking two, no one of which he will meet with

again. ‘l'o the same class of vocables undiscoverable a second

time belongs every word in the line, ‘‘ Unhouseled, disappointed,

unaneled,’ as I have already stated, and the ztalicized words in

the following phrases :

“Horns whelked and waved like the enridged sea”

““ Massy staples

And corresponsive and fulfilling bolts sperr up.”

In the following nine lines, which are almost consecutive, the

words in ztalics, numbering nine (or ten if we count lash which is

no where else employed in the sense of the thong or cord of a

whip), make their entrances and exits once for all.

“In shape no bigger than an agate-stone

Her wagon-spokes made of long spinners’ legs,

The cover of the wings of grasshoppers,

The traces of the smallest spider’s web.

Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat

Her whip of cricket’s bone, the lash a film.

Time out of mind the fairies’ coachmakers

And sometimes comes she with a tzthe-pig’s tail,

Then dreams he of another benefice.”

And yet Romeoand Juliet, the piaz from which this passage

is extracted, was among Shakspeare’s earliest efforts. Though a

prolific writer for twenty years afterward, he had no occasion for

any one of these words even once again,— and repeated the phrase

“time out of mind” only on one occasion.

168 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, anid Letters.

Nowhere perhaps will the student of Shaksperian diction be

more astonished than in observing how uncommon is the repetition

of the commonest words.. Who would anticipate that such voca-

bles as the following would never do duty but once? Fuller,

shoemaker, straggler, playing, crazy, sisterly, scholarly, profoundly,

prodigiously, wordiess, comeliness, restful, fitful, forefoot, forecast,

springhalt, rinsing, flannel, frock, sprout, leech, salamander, flail,

jlake, cater, corpulent, beverage, navigation, salary, omen, obscurity,

cataract, cathedral, symbol, gospel, nwardness, Jesus, disciple, pos-

ile, echortation, homily, dirge, papist, institution, fragile,— or such

word-clusters as, definite, definitive, definitively ; or these five sprouts

from one root, to elf, elvish, elvish-marked, elf-lock, elf-skin.

No one class of once-used words is more conspicuous in Shak-

spere than alliterative compounds. This fact will be clear from

the following very partial register of such formations: adl-abhorred,

all-admiring, bow-back, burly-honed, bugbear, bull-bearing, bull-beeves,

blood-bespolted, brow bound, bate-breeding, blood-boltered, bow-boy,

baby-brow, care-crazed, cloud-capped, counter-caster, cain-colored, can-

vas-climber, child-changed, custard-coffin, chamber-council, death-dart-

ing, dew-dropping, death-divining, deep-drawing, drug-damned,

dove-drawn, dismal-dreaming, double-dealing, double-damned, dceep-

drenched, dumb-discoursive, ever-esteemed, fast-falling, folly-fallen,

footfall, faultful, fitful, fiery-footed, fleet-foot, full-flawing, forceful,

Jfraudful, feast-finding, false-faced, foul faced, free-footed, filly-foal,

fullfed, find-fault, full-fraught, glass-gazing, gaim-giving, grim-grin-

ning, guts-griping, great-grown, hard-hearted, hard handed, heaven-

hued, heavenly-harnessed, heavy-hanging, heart-hardening, hell-hated,

highly-heaped, hoary-headed, hollow-hearted, hydra-headed, honey-

heavy, honest-hearted, harvest-home, king-killer, _love-lacking

low laid, lackluster, love-letter, lack linen, lack-love, lank-lean,

lass-lorn, long legged, lily-livered, lazar-like, long-lived, lean-looked,

light.o' love, peace-parted periwig-pated, proud-pied, pity-pleading,

plume-plucked, pistol-proof, plot-proof, ripe red, riding-robe, riding-

rod, surfeit swelled, cinque-spotted, sweet suggesting, saint-seducing,

sober sad, sad-set, sea-salt, sea-sorrow, sea-swallowed, silver-sweet,

sober-suited, still stand, ship-side, spirit stirring, super.subtle, super-

serviceable, sweet seasoned, summer swelling, summer steaming, sich-

The “Axa& Acyopeva in Shakspere. 169

service, sly-slow, snatl-slow, softly-sprighted, soft-slow, tranvpet-tongued,

tempest-tossed,, tongue-tied, true-telling, travel-tainted, virgin-violator,

want-wit, water-walled, wave worn, war-worn, woolward, well-willer,

well-won, water-work, wonder-wounded.

These words, and four or five thousand more equally excellent,

which have been the golden language of the Hnglish-speaking

world for three centuries since Shakspere, and which, belonging

to the immortal part of their vernacular, will be so forever, we

are apt to think he should have worn in their newest gloss, not

cast aside so soon. Why was he as shy of repeating them as

Hudibras was of showing his wit,

“Who bore it not about

As if afraid to wear it out,

Except on holidays or so,

As men their best apparel do?”

This question, why a full fourth of Shakspere’s verbal riches

was never brought to light more than once, is probably one which

nobody can at present answer, even to his own satisfaction.

Yet, the phenomenon is so remarkable that every one will try

after his own fashion to account for it. Myowa attempt at a pro-

visional explanation I will present in the latter part of this paper.

Let us first notice another question concerning the “dzaé Aeyoueva,

namely that which respects their origin. Where did they come

from? How far did Shakspere make them, and how far were

they ready to his hand? No approach to answering this inquiry

ean be made for some years. Yetas to this matter let us rejoice

that the dictionary of the British Philological society is now near

publication. This work, slowly elaborated by thousands of co-

workers in many devious walks of study on both sides of the

Atlantic, aims to exhibit the first appearance in a book of every

English word. In regard to the great bulk of Shakspere’s dic-

tion, it will enable us ten years hence to see how much of it was

known to literature before him, and how much of it he, himself

a snapper up of unconsidered trifles, gathered or gleaned in high-

ways and byways, or caused to ramify and effloresce from Saxon

or classical roots and trunks, thus suchen his purposes with

words to make them known.

170 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Leiters.

Meantime, we are left to conjectures. As of his own coinage I

should set down such words as mirth-moving, merriness, motley-

minded, masterdom, mockable, marbled, martyred, marrowless,

mightful, multipotent, monarchize, etc., ete.

Professor Skeat, the most painstaking investigator known to me

of early English, has discovered the word “ disappointed” in no ~

author earlier than Shakspere. Nor has Shakspere made use of

that word more than once, namely in the line:

“ Unhouseled, disappointed, unareled.”

In that line all the words without exception are “Aras Azyopeva.

The word “disappointed ” is not employed by Shakspere in its

modern meaning, but as signifying unprepared, or better perhaps

unshriven.

But however much of his linguistic treasury Shakspere shail be

proved to have inherited ready-made, whatever scraps he may

have stolen at the feast of languages, it is clear that he was an

imperial creator of language. Having a mint of phrases in his

own brain, well might he speak with the contempt he does of

those ‘‘fools who fora tricksy word defy the matter,’— that is

slight or disregard it. He never needed to do that. Words were

“correspondent to his command and, Ariel-like, did his spright-

ing gently.” When has any verbal necessity compelled him to

give his sense a turn that does not naturally belong to it?

It is very possible that Shakspere frequently shunned expres-

sions he had once preferred and that because otherwise his style

would become monotonous, and so cloy the hungry edge of ap-

petite. According to his own authority, “when they seldom

come they wished for come.” And again:

“Therefore are feasts so solemn and sorare,

Since seldom coming in the long year set,

Like stones of worth they thinly placed are,

Or captain jewels in the carcanet.”

In thousands of case:, however, Shakspere cannot have rejected

words through fear lest he should repeat them. It has taken

three centuries for the world to ferret out his “Azag Aeyopeva, can

we believe that he himself knew them all? Unless he were the

Providence which numbers all hairs of the head, he had not got

The “Anas Azyopeva in Shakspere. Tel

the start of the majestic world so far as that, however myriad-

minded we may consider him.

An instinct which would have rendered him aware of each and

every individual of five thousand words that he had employed

once only would be as inconceivable as that of Falstaff which

made him discern at midnight the heir apparent in Prince Hal,

when disguised as a highwayman. In short, Shakspere could not

be conscious of all the words he had once used more than Brigham

Young could recognize all the wives he had once wedded.

In the absence of other theories concerning the reasons for the

Shaksperian “Azas Aeyoveva being so abundant, I throw out a sug-

gestion of my own, which may stand till a better one shall sup-

plant it.

Shakspere’s forte lay in diversified characterization, and, in my

judgment, when he had sketched each several character, he was

never content till he had either found or fabricated the aptest

words possible for painting its form and pressure even in all nwances

most true to life. No two characters being identical in any par-

ticular, more than two faces are, no two descriptions as drawn by

his genius could repeat many of the self-same words. Hach of his

vocables thus became like each one of the seven thousand pieces

in a locomotive which fits the one niche it was ordained to fill,

but is out of place everywhere else, yes even dislocated.

Tbe more his ethical differentiations, the more nis language was

differentiated. His personages were as diversified as have been

portrayed by the whole band of Italian painters, but being a wizard

in words he resembled the magician in mosaic who can delineate

in stone every feature of those portraits, thanks to his discrimi-

nating and imitating shades of color more numberless than even

Shakspere’s words.

It is hard to believe that Shakspere’s characters were born like

Athene from the brain of Jove in panoplied perfection. They

grew. The play of Troilus was a dozen years in growth. Ac-

cording to the best commentators, ‘‘internal evidence favors the

opinion that Romeo and Juliet was an early work, and that it was

subsequently revise! and enlarged. Shakspere after having

sketched out a play on the fashion of his youthful taste and skill,

172 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

returned in after years to enlarge it, remodel it and enrich it with

the matured fruits of years of observation and reflection. Love's

Labor Lost first appeared in print with the annunciation that it

was ‘newly revised and augmented.” It is now very generally

regarded as a revision of a play which Shakspere had produced

ten years before and named Love's Labor Won. Cymbeline was

an entire rifacimento of an early dramatic attempt, showing not

only matured fulness of thought but laboring intensity of com-

pressed expression.” This being the fact, it is clear that Shaks-

pere treated his dramas as Guido did his Cleopatra which he

would not let leave his studio till ten years after the non-artistic

world had deemed that portrait finished.

Meantime the painter was penciling his canvas with curious

touches, each approximating some fraction nearer his ideal. So

the poet sought to find out acceptable words, or. what he terms

‘fan army of good words.” He poured his new wine into new

bottles, and never was at rest till he had arrayed his ideas in that

fitness of phrase which comes only by fits.

Had he survived fifty years longer I suppose he would to the

last have been, like Plato, perfecting his phrases. One couplet -

which as he left it reads:

“Find tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,

Sermons in stones, and good in everything,”

he might possibly have corrected and improved, as some commen-

tator has done for him, so as to express more truth, if less poetry,

making the words to stand :

“Find Jeaves on trees, stones in the running brooks,

Sermons in books, and gain in everything.”

To speak seriously, ‘‘ His manner in diction was progressive, and

this progress has been deemed so clearly traceable in his plays

that it can enable us to determine their chronological order.”

This view would have been accepted by Dryden, who treating of

Caliban remarks: “ His language is as hobgoblin as his person.

In him Shakspere not oniy found out a new character, but devised

and adapted a new manner of language for that character.”

On first thought it may seem beneath Shaksperian dignity to

be careful and troubled about verbal niceties. But no one will

The “Azog§ Aeyopeva in Shakspere. 173

continue so to think who has once perceived how much pains our

dramatist takes in delineating every one of his fools, and that in

showing forth their minutest follies he works by wit and not by

witchcrait.

The result of Shakspere’s curious verbal felicity, is that while

other authors satiate and soon tire us, his speech forever breathes

an indescribable freshness.

“ Age cannot wither

Nor custom stale his infinite variety.”

In the last line I have quoted there is a “Aza Aeyopevov, but it

is a word which I think you would hardly guess. It is the last

word,— namely, “ variety.”

In order to make sure of the thing he refused to repeat the

word. Indeed, he calls ‘iteration damnable.”

On every average page of Shakspere you are greeted and glad-

dened by at least five words that you never saw before in his

writings and that you will never see again, speaking once and

then forever holding their peace,— each not only rare but a none-

such,— five gems Just shown, then snatched away. Hach page is

studded with five stars, each as unique as the ceatury flower, and

hke the night-blooming cereus,

“The perfume and suppliance of a minute.”

The mind of Shakspere was bodied forth as Montezuma was

appareled, whose costume, however gorgeous, was never twice the

same, and so like Shakspere’s own “robe pontifical, ne’er seen

but wondered at.”

Hence the Shaksperian style is fresh as morning dews and

changeful as evening clouds, so that we remain forever doubtful

in relation to his manner and his matter, which of them owes the

greater debt to the other.

‘Though this instance [Ant. and Cleop., 2, 2, 241] is the only occurrence of

variety in the plays, we meet the word once more in Shakspere’s poems,

namely, in the twenty-first line of Venus and Adonis:

“Making them red and pale in endless variety.”’

Not afew other words which appear once only in the plays, are also re-

peated in the poems. But it was the wzaé Acyowerva in the plays, and not in

other Shaksperian writings, of which it was my aim to treat.

174 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Aris, and Letters.

The Shaksperian plots are analogous to the grouping of

Raphael, the characters to the drawing of Michael Angelo, but

the word-painting exceeds the coloring of Titian. Acvordingly,

in view of Shakspere’s diction, I would long ago have said, if I

could, what I read in Arthur Helps concerning a perfect style,

that “there is a sense of felicity about it, declaring it to be the pro-

duct of a happy moment, so that you feel that it will not bappen

again to that man who writes the sentence, nor to any other of

the sons of men, to say the like thing so choicely, tersely, mellif-

’ In the central court of the Neapolitan

luously and completely.’

museum I observed grape-clusters, volutes, moldings, fingers and

antique fragments of all sorts wrought in the rarest marble, lying

scattered on the pavement, exposed to sun and rain, cast down

the wrong side up, and seemingly thrown away, as when the

stones of the Jewish sanctuary were poured out in every street.

Nothing reveals the sculptural opulence of Italy like that appar-

ent wastefulness. It seems to proclaim that Italy can afford to

make nothing of what would elsewhere be judged worthy of

shrines. We say to ourselves, ‘‘ If such be the things she throws

away, what must be her jewels!” A similar feeling rises in me

while exploring Shakspere’s prodigality in “Azo§ Aeyoueva. His |

exchequer must have been more exhaustless than the Bank of

England, and he threw away more dies for coining words than

the British mint ever possessed for coining money.

On the whole, in whatever aspect we survey the Bard of Avon

T am reminded of the retired Boston merchant who, in his old age,

reading Hamlet for the first time was earaptured. When asked

how he liked Shakspere, his answer was, ‘‘ How dol like him?

Like isno word for my admiration. The truth is that not twenty

men in modern Boston can write anything better than old Shak-

spere.’’ I say ditto to the Boston man. Not more than forty men

in Madison (the present company excepted) can produce plays

superior to the old Shaksperian.

DEPARTMENT

S@CreN © S.

DEPARTMENT OF SCIENCES.

A LIST OF THE CRUSTACHA OF WISCONSIN.

With Notes on some New or Little Known Species.

By Witt F. Bunpy, M. D., Sauk City.

The crustacean fauna of Wisconsin has as yet received so little -

attention that it is at present impossible to present, with even ap-

proximate completeness, a list of the species inhabiting her waters.

The various dredgings in Lake Superior under the auspices of the

general government, and a dredging expedition off Racine pre-

viously reported to this academy by Dr. P. R. Hoy, have fur-

nished'almost our whole knowledge of the crustacean fauna of

the lakes on our borders, while the interior of the state remains al-

most entirely unexplored. A species of cambarus (C. virilis)

from Sugar river, another (C. propinquus) from Madison, and an

-amphipod, (Orchestes dentatus), from the latter place, are, I believe,

the only crustaceans that have been accredited to the interior of

the state till within a very recent period. That our streams and

lakes are extremely rich in crustacean life, is abundantly attested

by the fact that not a single locality has been explored with any

degree of thoroughness without revealing the presence of several

species of the higher genera.

The species included in this list, with the exception of those

found only in the great lakes, were all taken within the compara-

tively limited area included in the counties of Racine, Jefferson,

Dodge, Fond du Lac, Outagamie, Dane, Sauk and Richland. I

have received specimens from but a single locality each, in the

greater number of these.

The following list embraces all the species of the higher orders

known to inhabit the waters of the state: |

ORDER: DECAPODA.

Family: Astacide.

Cambarus acutus. Girard.

C. stygius. Bundy.

178

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

virilis. Hagen.

propinquus. Girard.

placidus. Hagen.

rusticus. Girard.

wisconsinensis. Bundy.

debilis. Bundy.

gracilis. Bundy.

barton. Hrichson.

obesus. Hagen.

Se ele oes

Family: Myside.

Mysis relicta. Loven.

ORDER: AMPHIPODA.

Family: Orchestide.

Orchestes dentatus. Smith.

Family: Lysianasside.

Pontoporeia hoyi. Smith.

P. filicornis. Smith.

Family: Gammaride.

Gammarus limneus. Smith.

G. fasciatus. Say.

Crangonyx gracilis. Smith.

OrpDER: IsopopaA.

Family: Assellide.

Asellus intermedius. Forbes.

Asellopsis tenax. Hagen.

ORDER: PHYLLOPID®.

Family: Branchipodide.

Kubranchipus bundyi. Forbes.

Family: Hstheriade.

Limnetis sp. ?

A List of the Crustacea of Wisconsin. 179

The genus Cambarus is the only representative of the family

Astacidz in the fresh waters of the United States east of the

Rocky Mountains. These animals, popularly known as “ craw-

fish” or “crabs,” are our largest crustaceans. The great number of

species, separated by characters generally obscure and difficult of

definition, many of them remarkably. inconstant, with an un-

doubted dimorphism of males and the not infrequent occurrence

of abnormal individuals, render the study of this genus particu-

larly perplexing.

The following key will assist in separating the species herein

mentioned :

A.— Rostrum toothed near apex, at least when young.

B.— Rostrum long, pointed; first abdominal legs of male

truncate; third joint of third and fourth thoracic legs hooked.

C.— Hands long and slender; fingers curved; cephalothorax

densely tuberculate. C. acutus.

CC.— Hands short; cephalothorax smooth or nearlyso. OC.

slygius. ;

BB.— Rostrum subquadrangular ; first abdominal legs of male

bifid ; hooks on third joint only, of thoracic legs. .

D.— Tips of first abdominal legs of male nearly equal, straight

or slightly curved; two rows of teeth on lower border of brach-

ium very indistinct or absent.

H.— Rostrum carinated above. ©. propinguus.

KE.— Rostrum not carinated above; hands large; fingers gap-

ing at base. OC. placidus.

DD.— Tips of first abdominal legs of male unequal and re-

curved.

F.— Margins of rostrum converging in front; first abdominal

legs of male long, thick, inner ramus swollen near apex. OC.

wisconsinensis.

A A.— Rostrum toothless.

H.— First abdominal legs of male truncate; three slender teeth

at apex. (©. gracilis.

HH.— First abdominal legs of male ending in two short, thick,

recurved teeth.

I.— Dorsal areola wide. C. bartonii.

180 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

II.— Dorsal areola none. C. obesus.

Cambarus acutus (Girard) has been found in Racine county by

Dr. Hoy. It occurs also in marsh ditches near Sauk City in com-

pany with C. obesus.

C. stygius (Bundy). Bulletin No. 1, Ill. Mus, Nat. Hist., 1876:

A number of small crawfish were sent me by Dr. P. R. Hoy,

by whom they were found on the shore of Lake Michigan at

Racine, having been washed ashore during a storm. Proving to

be a new species, they were described under the above name.

The rostrum is long and pointed, smooth above, foveolate at base;

cephalothorax slightly compressed, smooth or slightly punctate

above and finely granulate on sides. The dorsal area is narrow

aad the lateral spines acute, antennal plates wide, truncate, with

short apical teeth ; epistoma rounded in front, twice as wide as

long; third maxillipedes hairy on inner and lower sides; hands

short, smooth, serrate on inner margins, fingers short, nearly

straight, ribbed and punctate above, with contiguous margins tu-

berculate, outer one hairy; third segment of third (and probably

fourth) thoracic legs of male hooked. (The specimens were so

badly mutilated during the transfer through the mail that I:could

not determine this point, not one of the three males sent me hav-

ing the fourth legs remaining.) The first abdominal legs of male

are short, trancate, with three short obtuse teeth directed out-

ward from posterior margins of apex, leaving a smooth groove

pasSing up on outer surface between these teeth and the anterior

margin. The ventral ring of female is flat, transversely elliptical,

with posterior margin slightly elevated. This species resembles

C. acutus, but can be instantly separated by the short hands and

non-tuberculate annulus of female. The color of these speci-

mens when cauzht was a dark cream, darker along sutures. In

aleohol they changed to a purplish black, not confined to the

exoskeleton, but extending to the adjacent soft tissues.

C. viriles (Hagen) is our most abundant species. It will doubt-

less be found in all the streams of the state.

A male in my collectioa, taken on a fisherman’s net at Jeffer-

son, belongs to Hagen’s variety A. It is the largest crawfish L

have seen, measuring 6% inches from tip of telson to that of ros-

A List of the Cristacea of Wisconsin. 181

trum. The specimen has peculiar hooks on third segment of

second pair of thoracic legs.

C. propinguus (Girard) is also a very abundant species, generally

found in company with C. viril’s. It is our smallest species. Of

hundreds in my collection from various parts of the state, the

largest measures only two and one-fourth inches from tip of telson

to tip of rostrum.

C. placidus (Hagen) occurs sparingly in Fox river, from which

stream I have received a single individual.

C. rusticus (Girard) has been found in Lake Superior.

C. wisconsinenis (Bundy). Bul. No. 1, Il. Mus. Nat. Hist., 1876.

Rostrum wide at base, much narrower in front, not depressed,

slightly concave above and nearly smooth, margins not elevated

above eyes, acumen short; cephalothorax oval, punctate above

and granulate on sides; lateral teeth but slightly developed ;

areola narrow, wider behind; antenne slender, shorter than body ;

epistoma variable, wider than long, lateral angles prominent ;

third maxillipedes bearded within, and below at base only; car-

pus with a group of small sharp teeth on inner margin; two rows

of teeth on lower aspect of brachium; third segment of third

thoracic legs hooked; first abdominal legs of male long, thick,

bifid, nearly straight, reaching when folded under thorax to base

_ of first pair of legs; external ramus longer, with recurved tip,

inner ramus swollen near short, acute, obliquely incurved apex.

Racine and Normal, Ill. : »

C. debilis (Bundy). Bulletin No. 1, Ill. Mus. Nat. Hist., 1876.

This crawfish was found in the Little Baraboo river at Ironton,

in company with ©. propinguus. A single individual was also

found in the Wisconsin river at Sauk City.

Rostrum wide, quadrangular, slightly concave above, teeth

prominent, margins nearly parallel, acumen short and flat; cepha-

Jothorax slightly depressed, punctate above, granulate on sides;

lateral teeth acute; dorsal area narrow, widest behind; antennal

plates somewhat longer than rostruin; antenne slender, reaching

to base of telson; epistoma wider than long, truncate; third max-

illipedes barbate on inner and lower sides; hands with two rows

of teeth on inner margins; contiguous margins of fingers tuber-

182 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

culate; costate and punctate above, outer one hairy at base; third

segment of third thoracic legs hooked; first abdominal legs of

male long, bifid, nearly straight, outer ramus longer, recurved,

inner ramus more abruptly curved near apex, not enlarged near

apex as in C. ‘wisconsinensis; tubercle or inner basal angle

small.

C. gracillis (Bundy). Bulletin No. 1, Ill. Mus. Nat. Hist., 1876.

Rostrum short, wide, depressed, toothless, concave above, nearly

right-angled in front; cephalothorax laterally compressed, smooth

above, granulate on sides; areola wanting; cephalic carinz

prominent, ending behind in callosities; antennal plates very

smali and narrow; eyes small; antennz short and slender; epis-

toma rounded in front; third maxillipedes hairy on inner and.

lower aspects ; hands large, smooth below, punctate above, strongly

toothed on inner margins; fingers slender, gaping at base, de-

pressed, contiguous margins irregularly tuberculate, outer one

incurved, wide at base, movable one longer, tuberculate on outer

margin near base; carpus with one large and several small teeth

on inner margin; brachium with two rows of sharp teeth on lower

margin; third joint of third thoracic legs of male hooked; first ab-

dominal legs of male truncate, with several small apical teeth, the

inner one longest, slender and directed obliquely outward ; bases

of these legs narrow and inserted into deep sinuses in the first ab-

dominal segment ; interpedal space long, narrow, reaching half way

from small basal tubercle to apex of legs.

The second form male has shorter, less gaping fingers, smaller

hooks on third thoracic legs and articulated first abdominal legs.

The annulus of the female is movable, small and round. It

consists of two half-rings, each of which embraces one end of the

other. ‘T'wo tubercules on the anterior border are separated by

a slight furrow that widens behind, covering the posterior border.

It occurs on the prairies in the vicinity of Raciae, where it was

found by Dr. P. R. Hoy, to whose kindness I am indebted for

specimens.

It is also found abundantly along water courses in early spring

at Normal, Ill. (Prof. torbes).

A List of the Crustacea of Wisconsin. 183

Dr. Hoy found it burrowing in low grounds on the prairies,

emerging from its holes at nightfall and after rains.

C. obesus (Hagen).

This is one of our largest and most abundant crawfish. Unlike

most other species, it prefers stagnant water, frequenting ponds

and meadow ditches, often wandering far from bodies of surface

water, burrowing in wet fields and swales.

It is pre-eminently our burrowing species, sometimes extending

its hole to considerable depths. I once followed a burrow twelve

feet without unearthing its occupant or reaching the bottom of

the hole.

This species is easily identified. The rostrum is short, tooth-

less, depressed, concave above; areola wanting; first abdominal ©

legs of male bifid, with two short, thick, abruptly recurved teeth.

The annulus of female is transversely elliptical, symmetrical,

anterior and posterior margins bituberculate; fossa 8 shaped, con-

stricted in middle by anterior and posterier tubercles; lateral

angles rounded.

C. bartonti?. (Erichson.)

I do not think this species has been found in the interior of the

state. It occurs in Lake Superior.

It is similar to C. obesus. The rostrum is not so much de-

pressed, is less excavated above and the areola is very wide.

The female annulus has the posterior border elevated and the

lateral angles acute.

Mysas relicta. (uoven.)

This oceurs in the Great’ Lakes. It has not been found in the

interior waters of the state.

Orchestes dentatus. (Smith.)

With the exception of Gammarus fasciatus this is the most

abundant species in the interior waters of the state.

Pontoporeva hoyt. (Smith.)

P. filicornas. (Smith.)

Both of these species inhabit the deep waters of Lake Michigan.

They have never been found in the interior waters of the state,

but their occurrence in the deeper lakes is probable.

(184 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

Gammarus limneus. (Smith.)'

Found in the Great Lakes. Dr. P. R. Hoy has found it in a

clear spring brook near Racine.

G. fasciatus. (Say.)

This is doubtless the most abundant of our crustacea. I have

not failed to find it, in greater or less abundance, in every stream

or pool that I have examined. It is particularly numerous in

small brooklets whose beds are covered with deposits of finely

divided vegetable debris.

Crangonyx gracilis. (Smith.)

This species has not been found in the interior waters of the

state. It occurs in Lake Superior, and Professor Forbes finds it

in abundance in central Illinois.

Asellus intermedius. (Forbes.)

Abundant in stagnant sloughs and slow running brooks about —

Sauk City. These Wisconsin specimens differ from the types of

Professor Forbes in several unimportant details, especially in the

shape of the ramus of the first genital plate, and the size of the

second joint of the inner ramus of the second plate.

Assellopsis tenax. (Hagen.)

This species I have not seen. It is reported from Lake Superior.

Hubranchipus bundy. (Forbes.) Bulletin No. 1, Ill. Mus. Nat.

Hist., 1876.

This, our largest phyllopod, was discovered in small ponds of sur-

face water at Jefferson. It was found in abundancein April, but

after a few weeks entirely disappeared. Specimens found in two

neighboring ponds, while indistinguishable in other respects, dii-

fered markedly in size and coloring. In one of these ponds in a

densely timbered lot they were small, and pale in color, while in a

pond exposed to the sun they were much larger and brilliantly

colored. |

Limnetis (sp.?)

In company with the smaller Eubranchipides above mentioned.

was found an apparently undescribed species of Limnetis.

have met with it in no other locality.

Dioptomus sanguineus. (Korbes.)

This beautiful little creature is an abundant inhabitant of the

marshy pools and ditches near Sauk City.

The Corals of Delafield. 185

THE CORALS OF DELAFIELD.

By IRA M. BuEL.

The large collection of fossils made by the Geological Survey

at Roberts’ quarry, Delafield, Wisconsin, is surpassed in interest

and scientific value by no other representation of Paleozoic

fauna ever obtained from our state. It contains thousands of

specimens almost perfectly preserved by the blue friable shale in

which they were imbedded; and of the seventy species already

distinguished, about one-half are new to science. The coralline

representatives found here are of special interest to the student

and naturalist.

The locality in question (Sec. 24, T. 7, R. 18 W.) lies on the

southern shore of Pewaukee lake, and in the edge of a trough -

carved by glacial forces out of the lower layers of the Niagara

limestone, and the soft underlying Cincinnati shales; the basin

being occupied in part by the lake itself. By the removal of the

limestone layers in the quarry, quite a surface of this shale was

exposed, and as this formation somewhat resembles some of the

Carboniferous shales, it was supposed by some inquiring mind to

belong to that formation. A shaft was accordingly sunk at this

point for the discovery of coal, and was not abandoned until a

depth of fifty feet had been reached. The mound of rock and

clay thrown out of this pit or shaft, the rain-washed monument of

a geological delusion, was the source of all of the specimens ob-

tained from that locality.

These corralline forms are all of small size, the smallest species

measuring about an inch in length and about a tenth of an inch

in diameter. The largest coral fragment is about two inches in

diameter and consists of a sort of central base from which a num-

ber of slender arms branched out. Within these limits we find

almost every possible variation in form, manner of growth, branch-

ing and surface markings.

The size, form and arrangement of cells and cell walls, are the

principal distinguishing features of these corals; and as these feat-

ures are mainly microscopic, the labor of identification of species

and varieties among these thousands of specimens was not a small

186 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters,

task. The Polyp or Bryozoan cells seldom exceed a hundredth

of an inch, and in some species are less than a two hundred and

fiftieth of an inch in diameter. The cell walls and interspaces

are often dotted with pits or pores, the tubuli of some authorities,

or studded with granules, whose dimensions are from one-half to

one-tenth of the diameter of the cells. In the illustrated draw- |

ings these surface markings are enlarged from twenty to fifty

diameters.

The term corals, as applied to these forms, does not necessarily

imply that they belong to the radiate sub-kingdom. We find, in-

deed, that Professor Dana includes under this general term calca-

reous or honey structures formed uot only by Polyps and Hydroids

(Radiates), but by Bryozoans (Mollusca), and also by certaia

low vegetable forms.

In the classifications that have been made, the widest diversity

exists ; no two authorities seem to agree, and the same species is

relegated even to different sub-kingdoms by leading naturalists.

Of the thirteen genera recognized in this collection, Professor

Whitfield has placed Cheetetes, Monticulipora, Stellipora, Alveo-

lites and Dekayia under Corals; and Trematopora, Histulipora,

Paleschara, Stictopora, Fenestella, Retopora, Alecto and Aulo-

pora under Bryozoans. S. A. Miller, of Cincinnati, classes the

first group as Radiates of the Favosite group, /istulipora as a

Millepore, Aulopora as an Alcyanoid coral, and the remainder

Bryozoans. Professor Dana differs from others in considering the

Cheetetes and related genera Hydroids instead of Polyp corals,

while Dr. Rominger, of Michigan, throws them out of the Radiate

sub-kingdom altogether, and places the whole list under Bryo-

zoans. he close relationship and gradation of forms observed

in our specimens indicate that they should not be separated into

as widely differing divisions as has heretofore been done.

Before considering this matter further, we will notice the rela-

tionships that exist between some of these forms. Beginning

with those genera that are considered by all authorities as belong-

ing to the Bryozoan order of Mollusks, we first notice the two

representatives of the genus ticlopora, that are found in this col-

lection. (Hig. 1 represents S. elegantula, and Vig. 2 S. fragilis.)

The Corals of Delafield. 187

The genus is thus described by Dr. Hall: “ A foliaceous branch-

ing coral, supported by smooth rootlike expansions; branches

bifurcating and sometimes coalescing, celluliferous on both sides,

with thin central axis. Cellules, oval tubes, not enlarged below

apertures, distinctly oval with raised borders, nearly as wide as

the cells within.

The distinctive features of these species lie in the mode of

branching, size, shape and arrangements of the cells. Their re-

semblance to modern Bryozoan forms is manifest. This resem-

blance is still more plainly seen in the reticulated forms represented

by Figs. 3 and 4." These are incrusting forms with the cells on

1 These figures refer to drawings placed before the association at the pres-

entation of this paper in December, 1878. Some of the corals will be illus-

trated in Vol. IV, Wis. Geol. Surv.

one side only. Fig. 3 isan undescribed species, referred to the

genus Letopora by Professor Whitfield. Fig. 4 was described

by Profezsor W hitfield, and his description is found in the annual

report of the Wisconsin Geological Survey for 1877, p. 68, under

the name Fenestella granulosa.

The more obvious characters of each form are as follows: The

Retopora presents anastomosing branches with irregular, elliptical

or linear, pointed meshes, upper surface of branches thickly covered

with circular pores which are arranged in three or four longitudinal

rows. In the Feuestella the branches do not reunite after separa-

tion, but frequently bifurcate and are connected at quite regular

intervals by extremely narrow bars which divide the interspaces

into ob!ong spaces or fenestrules. The pores in this form are ar-

ranged in lines, a siogle row on each margin of the branches or

rays. The opposite surface of the frond is densely covered with

very minute granules, hence the term granulosa, applied to the

species. :

Turning to those forms which more closely resemble living

radiate corals, we notice first of all the delicately formed

Trematopora annulifer, Whitfield, described in the Annual Re-

port Wisconsin Geological Survey for 1877, page 67. Scores

of fragments of this beautiful fossil are found imbedded in

188 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

the surface of some of the blocks of shale, and though their di-

ameter is hardly larger than that of a knitting needle, their pecul-

iar sharp annulations distinguish them ata glance. The surface

pores are fine as needle points, yet under the microscope show in

general an elliptical section and are separated by grocved walls

giving to each opening a distinct margin or rim which is elevated

into a sharp spine on the lower side. The genus Fistulapora ex-

hibits a still further remove from the Bryozoan type. The larger

cells in this series have plainly marked transverse partitions as in

the Favosite corals. Still we have in some forms thin incrusting

layers and masses built up by the superposition of these layers.

Our collections contain several new species of this genus, two of

which have been described. The two forms to which I wish to

call your attention now are / soldissima and F&. lens. The sur-

face markings in these species are nearly alike; the former pre-

o, while

oD)

sents solid, cylindrical or flattened stems, often branchin

the latter presents disk-like expansions with openings on one side

only. The surface of the former shows very small elliptical cells,

separated by comparatively thick walls or interspaces which are

studded by minute pores arranged in one, two, or sometimes three

rows between the cells. Twelve. to sixteen of these larger cells

are found in the space of an eighth of an inch, measured along

the branches. In F. lens the cells are rather larger and the

interspaces narrower; otherwise the appearance of the surface in

these species is similar.

The forms already noticed are generally considered to be Bryo-

zoans, The difference of opinion that has been referred to applies

principally to the remaining forms, and at this point, therefore, we

should look for some important fundamental distinctions.

The genus Stellpora stands nearest to those just noted, and,

therefore, claims our attention. The beautiful form, S. poly-

stomella, is one of our most common fossils: and although we ob-

tain only fragments of its broad frond-like expansions, the

star-like tubercles that stud its surface, when perfectly preserved,

render it one of the most attractive species to the casual observer.

Our species is identified with the form described by Nicholson in

the Ohio reports, but presents some points of difference. This

The Corais of Delafield. . 1£9

author states that the number of rays found on these star-like

prominences is from eight to twelve. Ours display from five to

eighteen of these processes.. The raised hexagonal border which

he notes in the interspaces between the stars is shown in but a

single specimen in our collection, and only imperfectly there.

The star-like prominences in our specimens are much more irreg-

ular in form and arrangement, and the pores occupying the inter-

stellar spaces have plainly-marked raised rims as in the genus

Trematopora heretofore described.

Closely resembling this species in some of its forms stands a

newly described species Monticulipora punctata, (An. {Report, Wis.

Geol. Sur. p. 71). This is a very variable form, especially as

to surface markings. It is a cylindrical, branching coral, the

stems varying from one-eighth to three-fourths of an inch in

diameter. Some specimens display tubercular prominences very

closely resembling those of the form last described; others show

none of these raised figures. ‘The surface of all specimens

referred to this species is studded with non-cellular, minutely

porous interspaces separated by surfaces marked by cells and

pore-marked walls, just such as are shown by representatives of

the genus /stulipora. About these interspaces the larger cells

are sometimes arranged in radiating lines or ridges. In these

forms the resemblance to Sfelizpora is very marked to the unas-

sisted eye. Under the lens, however, the arrangement of cells,

cell walls and porous surfaces of cell walls and interspaces brings

out the resemblance to the other genus just mentioned. The

only marked difference between this form and those described as

Fistulipora is the presence and prominence of the interspaces, and

these are mentioned by Dr. Rominger, of Michigan, as character-

istic of the latter genus. This author would doubtless place it at

once under that genus.

We present also three other very closely allied forms of the

genus Monticulipora. These are nearly alike in mode of growth,

of branching, and in thickness of cell walls.

A detailed description of the first species will serve as a basis

forall. Prof. Whitfield describes it as growing in strong, solid,

somewhat flattened, frequently branching stems, covered with

190 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters.

rather prominent, rounded tubercles with concave interspaces.

Cells polygonal, those on the tubercles not differing in shape or

size from the others ; ten to fourteen on the stem in the space of

one-eighth of a linear inch. The cell walls are sharp, without

intercellular pits or pores, but elevated at the angles so as to form

low points. This description is abridged from that given by that

eminent paleontologist on page 71, An. Rep’t, before cited.

Monticulipora multituberculata is the formidable name borne by this

little fellow. J rectangularis differs from this in the form and

arrangement of cells; these are generally quadrangular, and are

arranged in concentrically curved lines showing much the same

arrangement as the engraved lines on the surface of a watch -case.

The third form is almost intermediate between these two types in

surface markings, but is of larger growth and _ has less prominent

monticules. The pores are quite generally hexagonal and are

arranged in straight or gently curving lines. This form is unde-

scribed.

There is some doubt in my mind as to the existence of any

constant difference between these three forms. The concentric ar-

rangement of cells is sometimes observable at the ends of branches

of IL multituberculata, and AL rectangularis does not always dis-

play this arrangement of pores over the whole surface. The

elevated spiny angles which characterize the cell walls of the first

named species are not always apparent, and are sometimes to be

observed on the latter form. The undescribed form is too closely

allied to the others to warrant a separate description or designation.

~The wide variation in form and features would seem to indicate

that at most only varieties should be claimed for these forms.

The genus Chcteles to which the four succeeding species are as-

signed was originally thought to include forms like the last, but

its author described the increase of its cells as taking place by

division. In most of the forms in which the method of increase

of parts has been made out it has been found to be by a different

process, and so the new genera Monticulipora stenopora, etc.,

were founded, and into these genera were gathered those forms

that were found to disagree with the original genus in this respect.

The most that we can say of some of these is that they are at

The Corals of Delafield. 191

present classed under the old genus because they have not been

proved to belong to any other genus, 1. e., their manner of growth

has never been discovered.

C. atritus, the first form noted under this designation, was tirst

described in the Ohio reports. It is distinguished by the presence

of small quadrangular, conical eminences, which are thickly

scattered over the surface of the coral, especially at the flattened

ends of the branches. The specimens from Ohio are described as

cylindrical, frequently branching forms, from four to seven lines

in diameter and eight to ten corallites in the space of one line.

Ours are much smaller, from one and a half to three lines in

diameter and flattened, with ten or twelve corallites in the space

of a line. Chcetetes Jamest, described likewise in the Ohio re-

ports, has its representative here also. The walls of the corallite

cells in this form show the extraordinary thickness exhibited by

the Ohio form, but also show a well marked groove upon their

summit, a feature that is not noticed by Nicholson in his descrip-

tions, nor shown in a type specimen which I have examined from

that state. This feature has been before mentioned as a charac

teristic of the Bryozoan genus Zrematopora. OC. fusiformis is a

new species (see An. Rep't, 76, p. 70). This is a very minute

form, less than an inch in jiength and an eighth of an inch in

diameter. The cells are very minute, twelve to twenty in the

space of a line. The cell walls are thick, sometimes with minute

pores, sometimes with a well marked groove on their summits,

and in other cases sharply ridged between the cells. ‘The very

close resemblance that exists between this form and Zrematopora

annulifera argues very strongly against their being placed in dif-

ferent sub-kingdoms. I have failed to find any characteristic in

these two last species that should remove them from those of the

genus Trematopora.

I desire also to call attention to some undescribed and perhaps

previously unnoticed forms which I observed while classifying

the collections of the state survey.

The first is a thin expansion found encrusting a fragment of a

Brachiopod shell. The cells in this form are rather larger than

those of any of the other species here noted, and seemed to be

192 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters.

formed by the grouping in various ways of beautifully trilobate

semi-circular walls, after the manner of the fancy designs known

by the ladies as shell-work. The appearance of the surface is

more suggestive of modern Bryozoans than any other form. I

should judge that it belongs to the genus Alveolites. Another

well marked but undescribed fossil is doubtless a /stuiipora. —

The manner of growth of this form is various. It sometimes

appears as an incrusting coral, sometimes grows out into thin

fronds, again is found in irregularly-lobed masses, and occasion-

ally takes the form of solid cylindrical branches. Its compara-

tively large cells, 6 to 8 in the space of a line, are elliptical in

outline and have prominent thin walls. These cells are irregu-

larly scattered over the surface, sometimes in contact but oftener

separated by interspaces which are studded with smaller circular

or polygonal cellules. These are of very unequal size and seem

to have no systematic arrangement. The sharpness of outline

possessed by cells and cellules in this form makes it one of the

handsomest of these little curiosities.

From the facts observed during my examinations of these

fossils, and especially from that portion which has been herein

presented, the following conclusions have been drawn:

1. Throughout the whole series here represented we find no

strongly marked lines of separation, but rather a group of forms

bound together by many points of similarity.

2. These relationships preclude the possibility that we have

here the representatives of two sub-kingdoms.

3. The close relationship borne by some of these corals to forms

distinctly radiate would seem to indicate that they hold an inter-

mediate position between the radiate and molluscan sub-king-

doms. It would be a hopeless task to attempt to establish their

exact relationships from these fragmentary skeletons.

4, The extreme variability exhibited by the fossils themselves

precludes the existence of well-defined genera and species, and

points out an error in the past whereby these arbitrary distinc-

tions have been unnecessarily multiplied.

5. The most careful study of extended collections is necessary

to enable the observer to fix the few distinguishing lines by which

The Corals of Delafield. 193

nature has herself classified this fauna, and even then we must

not expect to find divisions, but rather connected branches oi one

central type.

The small collection hastily gathered by an exploring party

from a little mound of debris must necessarily represent but a

small proportion of the life that really existed in the teeming seas

of that geological epoch. Amateur geologists have here a rich

fiela for: original work, and may find unlimited opportunity for

study and investigation.

194 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

ON SOME POINTS IN THE GEOLOGY OF THE REGION

ABOUT BELOIT.

By G. D. SwEzeEy.

Along the line of hills which forms the western boundary of

the Rock river bottoms at Beloit are exposed at frequent intervals

the outcropping edges of rock strata; these include the upper

layers of the St. Peters sandstone, the whole or nearly the whole

thickness of the Trenton limestone, and the lower layers of the

Galena limestone.

The Trenton limestone, which consequently most interests us

today, is a formation which presents so much variation in litho-

logical characters, and to some extent in fossils, that it is readily

divisible into a large number of distinct subdivisions, whose char-

acters are so well marked that they can in most cases be identi-

fied with ease, and sufficiently persistent, at least over the few

miles of extent with which we have to do, so that they can be

matched with a good degree of certainty ; there is scarcely an ex-

posure of any extent in the region of whose place in the Trenton

section we have any doubt. Moreover it happens that of the one

hundred and eleven feet of Trenton limestone, we have exposed

in one or more outcrops of the region, every layer unless it bea

few feet in the horizon of the Upper Blue.

The subdivisions of our Trenton rock and their exposure in the

various quarries and outcrops of the region are shown upon the

chart ; the names of the quarries are given as they are familiarly

known by us at Beloit. Between the St. Peters sandstone and

the Trenton limestone are eight feet or perhaps more of transi-

tional layers; they include at the bottom a foot or so of sand-

stone, more coarse and impure than is usual with the St. Peters,

above this five feet of impure limestone and shale, and at the top

two feet more of coarse sandstone. Above these transitional

layers we have twenty-two feet of Lower Buff limestone, sep-

arated by well marked shaly seams at least, if not by lithological

characters, into three or four subdivisions, every where recognizable

UPPER BLUE |

GHERTY |ncs <1 CHERTY QUARRY

se [oH}

HANGHETTS HESS? i

bd)

QUARRY QUARRY ee

UPPER) UPPER 2 é

FUCOIDAL =

BUFF \pippseyE |< = a

TRENTON. LOWER Z Ta See ae ee :

if FUCO/DAL ue ace

CARPENTER

CARPENTERS

RUARRYr

Lowen abil =

[RO SR 0 0 wn ow en nn een ne — MSS aaeesce nem

LOWER BUF : =

: LST. eae ce satan ene ieee ; |

= - QUARRY = aesram ere eeae

TRANSIT/ONAL, = = VANESVILLE

AT PETERS 25 .

BELOIT, WIS.

Ly GL SWeze yi

Geology of the Region about Beloit. 197

in the region as well as at Janesville. Above these are eighteen

feet of Lower Blue limestone with two layers of a few inches

each in thickness, one highly crystalline, the other very fossilifer-

ous, easily recognizable in the three quarries which include this

horizon. The Upper Buff limestone has been divided by Prof...

Chamberlin into five subdivisions, known by us at Beloit as the

Carpenter, Lower Fucoidal, Pseudo-birdseye, Upper Fucoidal and

Cherty beds respectively ; the lower and upper of these are still

further divisible, as shown on the chart, and their divisions recog-

nizable throughout the region and questionabiy as far away as

Janesville. The Upper Blue limestone which completes the

Trenton section is estimated at twenty feet in thickness, although

as we shall see, this cannot be certainly determined.

Beginning with Scott’s quarry, we have the transitional layers

or nearly all of them, and just below, separated by a few feet

unexposed, the characteristic St. Peters sandstone; in the Second

railroad quarry, a mile and a quarter to the south, we have a por-

tion of these layers exposed, and above them the entire thickness

of Lower Buff and Lower Blue, and, in the broken and nearly in-

accessible upper layers, probably the lower part of the Upper Buff

layers ; 10 two other quarries less than a mile from this, we find

the same horizon, including the crystalline and fossiliferous

layers before mentioned. In a ravine below Carpenter’s quarry

also, the Lower Blue layers are exposed. Carpenter’s quarry forms

the next step in the ladder, and here the exact matching becomes

difficult owing to the broken and weathered condition of the top

of the second quarry, and so we are obliged to call in the aid of

the large quarry west of Janesville, which includes both of these

horizons. There is in the very bottom of Carpenter’s quarry a

well marked shaly seam ; a similar seam is found near the top of

the second quarry, eighteen feet above the junction of lower buff

and lower blue. At Janesville a seam is found seventeen feet

above this junction, and at about this horizon the shaly fossilifer-

ous Lower Blue layers pass by insensible gradations into the com-

pact, unfossiliferous Carpenter beds. The fact that nearly all the

subdivisions are a little thicker at Beloit than at Janesville, makes

the difference of a foot in the height of this seam above the junc-

198 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

tion, just what we should expect; and so itis believed that this

well marked seam is the same at Janesville, at the Second quarry

and at Carpenter’s, and it is made the point of division between

the Lower Blue and Upper Buff beds. The upper part of Carpen-

ter’s quarry shows the Lower Fucoidal layers with their character-

istic conchoidal fracture and brown markings, the Birdseye and in

the very top the Upper Fucoidal. At Hess’ quarry, a mile and

three-quarters farther south, and at Hanchett’s, another mile be-

yond, as well as at Rockton, four miles farther, these same

layers are shown. Our next step in the ascending scale is made

by the Cherty quarry, four miles to the north, and here our ladder

breaks again and we must cross the state line and steal a few facts

from our Sucker neighbors to splice it with. We learn from the

Rockton quarry that the Cherty beds lie immediately above the

three feet of Upper Fucoidal layers, and, although the lower part of

the chert-bearing beds at Rockton are of a decidedly brecciated

structure, while at the Cherty quarry they are not yet, we must

conclude that they are the same, only laid down where the waves

broke more violently, as might not be unlikely eight miles away.

Moreover, the very top of Hess’ quarry, although badly weathered,

seems to be in this same horizon, and probably just about matches

with the bottom of the Cherty quarry. In the upper half of this

quarry and the two adjacent outcrops, we have the Upper Blue

beds, while in one of them a higher exposure, separated by thir-

teen feet unexposed, shows the Galena beds with their charac-

teristic receptaculites. The exact matching of these three quarries

is a hopeless task; but among the numerous shaly seams there

are two in each quarry that are well marked and about the same

distance apart, which are believed to beidentical. If this is so,

the thickness of the Upper Blue layers is at least sixteen feet, and

above this there is seven and a half feet between the top of the

third quarry and the bottom of the upper exposure at the lime-

kila. Between these limits of sixteen and twenty-three and a

half feet we may exercise our Yankee faculty of guessing ; our

guess is twenty feet. At Smith’s quarry we find this junction of

the Upper Blue with the Galena limestone which falls somewhat

between the limits above mentioned. Our estimate gives the

->—= DIAGRAM SHOWING =<—

QNOUERTADNS JUTE ROE STRATA: BT BELOVE AS,

[een oe crete ee ee nee ree nmemamens Dasapemmtiaay,

wee Rea,

Z SO\FEET >= CHERTY”

és SMITHS i af au4 RREM i

FuNCHETTS = _SUARRY Hess CURRY ae :LIME KILN

Sicg, LI Se Secor a a ae .

BELOIT, DAM

Be SS WNER LENE,

| Me é

Geology of the Region about Beloit. — 201

total thickness of the Trenton limestone at one hundred and

eleven feet.

It will thus be seen that the matching of our Beloit quarries is

an interesting problem, somewhat complicated, bnt not too diffh-

cult; a class of college students, with a little oversight and direc-

tion from the teacher, are able to work it out with interest and

satisfaction. We have just about outcrops enough, and very few

superfluous; seven of our Beloit exposures are needed to com-

plete the ascending scale.

Having now matched our exposures and determined the thick-

ness of the various subdivisions, we have only to determine the

altitude of each in order to learn whether there is any dip or un-

dulation in the strata as traced from quarry to quarry ; or whether

they are, as shown on the chart, entirely level. The exposures

lie mainly on a north and south line in the face of the west bluff

of Rock river; moreover, the river, being set back at this point by

the dam, affords a level base line; the altitude of the exposures

above the river has been repeatedly taken by the aneroid barome-

ter, and the average of these results is believed to be correct

within a very few feet. The undulations which are thus detected

are shown inthe diagram, although of course greatly exaggerated.

it will be seen that the four quarries farthest north show a con-

siderable and quite regular dip to the south, amounting to eighty

feet in seven-eighths of a mile; from here the strata rise again to

the second quarry, beyond which they continue with but a slight

and nearly uniform dip to the south. North of Scott’s quarry

there are two places where the junction of sandstone and lime-

stone is shown in the road, from which we learn that the dip is

sharp to the ner.h. In the upper diagram the strata are traced

still farther south, and also north through Janesville to Fulton;

and although we know nothing as to minor undulations, we see

that in general the strata are almost exactly level except where

they drop down so abruptly at Beloit, constituting a little anti-

clinal elevation and a deeper synclinal depression of eighty feet ;

indeed, from Fulton to Rockton, a distance of thirty miles, the

fall is only ninety-four feet; while at Beloit, as we have seen, the

fall is almost as great in less thanamile. Although we know

202 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

nothing about minor undulations between Afton and Fulton, the

exposures about Beloit are so numerous that no considerable

undulations could exist undetected.

The exposures represented in the diagram do not all lie ina

direct line by any means, but those which are of most interest as

indicating these marked undulations do lie almost exactly in a

north and south line. Hess’ and Smith’s quarries lie considerably

to the west of this line, but another small exposure to ‘the east of

them, and more nearly in line, indicates almost exactly the same

slight dip as they.

These outcrops all lie in the eastern face of the line of bluffs

_ which forms the western boundary of the present Rock river bot-

toms. As we have seen, the Galena limestone is only found

capping the highest hills. In the corresponding line of eastern

bluffs, whose height is about the same, the Galena limestone is

everywhere found, and the Trenton occurs only in the bottom of

a deep ravine at Turtleville’ This shows that the dip is prevail-

ing eastward, which is to be presumed, since Beloit lies in the

eastern slope of the north and south geanticlinal axis, which

made Wisconsin the oldest state of the American continent, if not —

the oldest in the Union. The crest of this great geanticlinal runs

down to the west of Beloit, giving our strata a slight slip to the

east, amounting to about twenty-five feet in the five :niles between

the limekiln and the ravine at Turtleville. The undulations

already traced are, therefore, of the nature of small anticlinal

ridges and synclinal valleys crossing the main geanticlinal axis of

Wisconsin. They are, of course, very small compared with it, but

much more abrupt. The existence of similar, but much more

extensive, humps on the camel’s back is indicated by the fact that

in two localities further south, in Illinois, the St. Peters sandstone

comes to the surface; at Beloit it drops about to the river level ;

at Rockton the river runs over Treaton limestone; at the

rapids south of Roscoe I have not seen the exposure, but from

the rock and fossils I judge that it cuts through either the Lower

Blue or, more likely, the Birdseye beds. But in Ogle county,

Illinois, although the river is not at all abrupt to this point, the

sandstone is found far above the river. A similar area is mapped

by Worthen further south, in Illinois.

Geology of the Region about Beloit. 203

i Without dwelling longer upon the stratigraphical relations of

jour rocks we pass on to note one or two points of interest in their

\later geological history.

i The two lines of bluffs already mentioned which are the

(boundaries of the present Rock river bottoms, with their stratified

Champlain gravels, were not only tne banks of the Champlain

lake into which the river expanded as a flood from the melting

(glacier, but they were also the banks of a rather remarkable chan-

nel which the preglacial Rock river cut for itself to the depth of

over four hundred feet through Trenton limestone, St. Peters

‘sandstone, Lower Magnesian limestone and into the Potsdam

‘sandstone; at least this was the depth as shown by the artesian

well at Janesville, and at a point a few miles lower in its course

i. could not have been much less. ‘That it is a preglacial valley

is evident enough from the fact that the path of the glacier, as

shown by striw at Hanchett’s quarry, was almost exactly west or

squarely across the Rock river channel. This fact is in itself in-

teresting as being the only case, so far as I know, in which glacial

siriee are found outside the Kettle morain to indicate the direction

‘in which the glacier had moved previous to the retreat and subse-

quent advance which formed the Kettle morain. The direction of

the glacier in our region had been conjectured from some meagre

data to be about southwest; the discovery of these markings 1s

| therefore of interest as showing that the tongue of ice which pro-

“duced them, apparently a continuation of {the Lake Michigan

po was, at this point at least, deflected perhaps by a valley to

‘the north of the quarry, so as to move due west ; this being the

case, the banks of our preglacial valley were doubtless originally

higher even than now, so that this ancient channel must have had

rather a remarkable depth. Its width at Beloit is three to four

miles; a few miles farther south it narrows to one anda half

Tmiles. At Rockton the confluence of the Pecatonica with Rock

‘Tiver constituted quite a lake in the Champlain period, but it does

“not represent so large a preglacial valley since the bottoms be-

“tween Beloit and Rockton are underlaid by rock as shown in

several places, showing that the Champlain floods escaped over

7 the low rim of rock at that point and determined their own limits

204 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters.

in the unstratified Champlain deposits farther back. But to the

east of Beloit the wells even do not strike rock, so far as I know, :

and so our deep preglacial valley must have had a width of three

to four miles at Beloit, and farther north still greater. This is”

explicable from the fuct that the soft St. Peters sandstone would”

be easily and extensively undermined by the river, so that the

greatest depth of the channel may probably be only along a

narrow channel in the middle into which the river cut its way

and in which it lay until it was lifted out by the accumulating

deposits from the melting glacier, widening as it was lifted higher

and higher until it covered the present extensive bottoms.

The successive levels through which the river sank from this

point are three in number, everywhere observable, besides some

other terraces intermediate and not so well marked. The present

river lies as a narrow stream, in general closely skirting the west-

Ai tie

ern bluffs and in places running upon the rock itself. The cause

of this isdetected by careful meastrements with the aneroid barom-

eter, which shows that the general level of the bottoms is some-_

what higher on the eastern side than on the western, from which we :

infer that the rise of land to the north which set the river to cut- ©

ting its terraces, was also, to some extent, a rise to the east of us,

tipping the river over against its western bluff. |

These rambling notes are presented not so much in the hope of |

enlightening as of interesting you in some of the geological ques-

tions which have interested us at Beloit. |

mii

IPT by sels

Geb itimnD

The Tides. 207

THE TIDES.

By JoHn NADER, Civit ENGINEER.

The ocean tide, this mysterious breathing of the sea, has at-

tracted the attention of man from the earliest ages, and the cause

was often assigned to some mysterious, if not supernatural agency.

Pliny, in the first century, must have been studying the phe-

nomena before he exclaimed, “Causa in Sole Lundque;” as we

proceed in this investimation we will see how nearly correct Pliny

was in his remark. Since the announcement of the Copernican’

system of the universe, many theories have been advanced, all

purporting to account for the tides. Some of these were very in-

genious and plausible, while others, as we will subsequently see,

bordered on the absurd. ‘‘ Descartes,” ” as Guillemin says, “ first

dared to draw the veil and sound the mystery, and if he failed, it

was only because of his preconceived ideas of the solar system.”

As we shall endeavor to deduce the cause from the effect, we

will first investigate the various phases and features of the phe-

nomenon as they actually occur, and then endeavor to assign the

cause. Considerable observation and study are required to obtain

a clear understanding of the varied features of the tide, of the

disturbing influences arising from various sources, and of the

form of the true and distorted waves.

The first feature observed, is the periodic rising and falling of

the surface of the ocean and the movement of the consequent

currents.

The tidal wave in its simplest form is a long undulation of the

surface of the ocean, the length of which is the distance between

two consecutive high or low waters; the vertical range is very

small when compared with the length, but increases as the length

diminishes; the time, however, is and remains the same except-

ing in special cases.

1 Nicolaus Copernicus. Born Feb. 9, 1473, Prussia. Died May 24, 1543.

System de Mundi, 1507-15380-1543.

2Descartes. Born, 1596; died, 1650; 54 years.

208 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

The attending currents are the motion of the water on the

slopes of the waves in obedience to gravitation. The excursions

ef these currents, at any particular point, are of short duration ;

the motion of the wave is so rapid compared with the current

that a point in moving down one side is elevated by the advanc-

ing wave and left on the reverse slope to return and repeat the

journey. Itis not uncommon during still weather, to observe |

objects floating to and fro with the currents during several suc-

cessive tides. ;

The figure of a normal or undistorted wave is nearly equal to

a curve of sines of a circle whose diameter extends from high to

low water with the center at mean level; if’ the semicircle and

the half wave are divided into an equal number of parts, the sines

and distances are the co-ordinates of the curve. As a rule the

advance slope of the wave is the steeper of the two, for the axis

is always inclined forward, owing to the resistance of friction.

By comparing a diagram of an observed tide with the theoretical

one, the distortion, if there is any, is at once recognized.

In the deep water of the ocean the volume necessary to form

the wave in proportion to the force meets with little resistance,

whereas in shallow water the resistance of friction from the bot-

tom becomes considerable, and the wave which is thereby retarded

in its progress is modified and the horizontal force is transformed

into a vertical one; the water in front of the wave is drawn down

to form the wave, thereby making the previous low water lower

while the momentum of the wave heaps the water upon the ob-

structed portion, making the high water higher; and while the

range is thus increased the length is proportionally diminished.

The tide is often much distorted by storms, so much in fact at

times, as to almost lose its identity. A remarkable case occurred

in New York Bay in the summer of 1869; it indicated that a

vere storm was raging somewhere on the Atlantic ocean which

arrested for a time the progress of a portion of the wave; the

entire volume arrived in due time, but in a distorted form.

The force of the wind has also a great effect upon the tides in

bays and rivers where at times every feature is disturbed beyond

recognition. In the Delaware river in the winter of 1851 and

The Tides. 209

1852 the tide at Fort Delaware fell continuously for 36 hours in

consequence of the wind blowing down stream, and instead of six

feet the fall was actually fourteen.

The tides have their origin in the oceans and thence proceed to

our shores, part of the time as forced and part of the time as free

waves, that is to say, they are moving part of the time under the

action of the tide-making force and when by the earth’s rotation

they are removed from this influence they continue under their

own vis-viva until again brought within the influence of the same

cause. After investigating some of the peculiarities of the tides

on the coasts, we will return to the ocean wave. Alter reaching

the coast the tide enters every bay and river within its scope,

and, while doing so, undergoes many modifications. The range

is subject to change with every change in the cross-section, so that

observations along a river will vary considerable even at short

distances. In extensive bays the fact is more marked than in

rivers, the range, which is increased by the contraction of the

inlet, is at once diminished when the wave enters and spreads in

the basin, but, while the influx is retarded, the main wave passes

by, the ocean falls and efflux begins before the bay is filled to the

ocean level, so that the bay never rises to a level with the ocean

‘and for the same reason also, never becomes as Jow. ‘The Dela-

ware and Chesapeake bays are cases of this kind; the Mexican

culf is one of the most extreme and will receive special notice

further on.

The time card of steamers carrying on small tidal rivers is a

curiosity to those not familiar with such rivers, some of which

have scarce one foot of water at their entrance at low tide, so that

the boats are obliged to enter and leave the river on the tide wave

and their time must vary from day to day as we find the tides

do vary. On large tidal rivers the case is different. Vessels will

meet several tides during one trip, as, for instance, on the Hudson

river, New York. The tide which passes New York city at

8:13 A. M., reaches Albany at 8:30 P. M., with a mean velocity

of about 17 miles an hour so that the length of the half wave,

from high to low water, is about 100 miles.

A boat leaving Albany at bigh water, at say 15 miles an hour,

14 |

210 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters.

on the eb, reaches low water in a little over three hours; then at

the rate of twelve miles an hour on the /lsod, reaches high water

in 8 hours more 40 miles above New York, which point (New

York) it makes in 23 hours more and is then within 20 miles of

the next low water. On the upstream trip the conditions would

be different. Here it would only be a question of speed between

the boat and the wave, and if the boat left at low water on the:

first of the jlvod current, it would meet the contrary current

about 20 miles below Albany. The fact is that the trip upstream

is made in less time than that downstream.

The tide of Long Island Sound and the Hast river, is remarka-

ble in several respects. That portion of the tide which enters at

Sandy Hook moves slowly up the narrow channel of the Hast

river and a few miles above New York encounters another por-

tion of the same ocean tide which entered the Sound at Montaulc

Point and flowed back through the Sound over 100 miles in the

meantime.

With a reasonably fair idea of the tides, the most remarkable

feature may appear to be their regularity, but by the time the

novelty has worn off there may also arise some doubts upon that

point in the mind of the observer.

If the observations should begin at a particular time, there will

be two precisely similar waves, in something less than 25 hours.

In the course of a few days, during which the tides will appear

later each day, the two tides will become unequal in range, at the

same time both may be higher or lower than when first observed,

the evening tide may be the greater yet it is just as possible that

the morning tide will be the greater of the two, depending entirely

upon the time when the observations commenced.

Before progressing any further we will be obliged to assume

some means of comparison to enable us to pursue the subject in-

telligently. Now, if we find that the phases of any two or more

distinct phenomena run parallel, or in other words coinzide, we

may conclude that one is either the cause or companion of the

other.

The phases of the tide compare in point of time exactly with

those of the moon so that the moon is either the cause of the

tides or their companion subject to the same laws.

The Tides. 211

The two equal tides take place when the moon has no deciina-

tion, 1. e., when in the plane of the earth’s equator no matter what

its position otherwise may chance to be. When the moon moves

north or south of the equator the tides become unequal. In

most localities the highest of the two will be the one follow-

ing the upper transit during north declinations and lower tran-

sits during south declinations; when the tides observed do

not succeed the transit which attends their formation, the exact

reverse of this is true. Leaving aside the semi-diurnal inequal-

. ities, the highest tides occur at new and full moon and are known

as spring tides, the least tides occur when the moon is in her quad-

ratures and are known as neap tides. The highest of the high

tides occur when the full or change takes place during maximum

declinations, then one of the waves is much larger than the other,

in some localities the inequality is so great as to compound the

two waves to such a degree that only one distorted wave is ap-

parent in 24 hours.

The mean time from the moon’s upper transit to the succeeding

high water, during a lunation, is called the ‘‘ Corrected Hstablish-

ment” or the “ Hstablishment of the Port.” The establishment

is used by mariners and others for calculating the time of the tide

from the position of the moon.

In the Gulf of Mexico the tides are more complicated ; in Gal-

veston Bay two very small irregular tides are observable in 24

yours when the declination of the moon is small, when this in-

creases either way, the two become unequal until only one high

water is recognizable in 24 hours; this continues several days be-

fore and after maximum declination.

By careful obseavations the two compounded waves are observ-

able unless affected by local disturbances which latter often

exceed the range of the tide which is from one-half to two feet.

The foregoing facts illustrate the general features of the tides

and warrant the assumption that the moon is in some manner

‘connected with the same.

If we examine the coast lines of continents we will observe a

general similarity in some while in others we may even compare

their details and in either case tind remarkable resemblance which

212 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

has suggested the idea, to some of our geographers, of joining the

continents and assuming lines of cleavage. b

South America, Africa and Oceanica have a strong resemblance ;

the locations of such detached portions as the Falkland Islands,

Madagascar, New Zealand, Ceylon and Formosa are notable; the

Fjords of Norway and Patagonia and the Firths of Scotland re- |

semble each other closely, while the serrated S. W. coast of Ire-

land is the dunlicate of the to coast of Maine. In these localities

the tide impinges upon the coast in the same manner, in each case,

both as to direction and impulse.

{; We may further observe the work of erosion of the average tide

and of the greater at maximum declinations in the double in-

dented coasts on the west of the continents, the first impulse of

the tile being from west to east in nearly all cases.

According to the usually accepted theory of the tides, the

moon elevates the water of the ocean by attraction. Now, if we

admit of attraction, we must also admit of its laws according to

one of which, bodies attract with a force in direct proportion to

their masses. The mass of the sunis such that his attraction

upon the earth is 170 times greater than the moon’s and the tide

should be in proportion to the respective attractive powers of the

two bodies. ;

Reclus in ‘The Ocean” says that, ‘the solar tides would be

5000-6000 feet high if the true cause of the tides was not to be

found in the difference of attraction exercised on the waters of

the different parts of the earth.” The difference of the moon’s

attraction on the near and remote sides of the earth is just twice

the difference of the sun’s, while the sun’s attraction is 589 mil-

lionths of the earth’s gravity and moon’s attraction is only 84}

millionths. The centrifugal force at the equator due to the earth’s

rotation is the 1-289th part of the earth’s gravity and hence only

six times greater than the sun’s attraction, while it is more than

1000 times greater than the moon's.

The moon’s assumed affinity for aqueous matter we will not

consider since we have as yet no reason to doubt that gravitation

is the same throughout the Universe. In space, all matter is at-

tracted alike, that some bodies are heavier than others is that they,

The Tides. PAS

on account of their density, contain a greater mass, and gravity

acting upon this mass gives them their preponderance, at the same

time one volume will respond to the force of gravity as readily

as another, nothwithstanding their different densities.

A tide occurs at opposste sides of the earth at the same time,

that is, one tide follows the upper transit of the moon and another

the lower one in the same place. The water is said to be drawn

away from the earth on one side and the earth away from the

water on the remote side.

We know that two forces acting in the same direction are rep-

resented by a simple sum of these forces and that attraction act-

ing from one side through a body upon matter on the opposite

side will only aid gravity in holding that matter more securely on

that side, but, it is admitted that matter is heavier on the earth's

surface on the side remote from the sun, which fact recalls the

argument, that if anything is affected by foreign attraction it will

be affected most by the superior force.

Argumeet aside, the tide is certainly obedient tothe moon, but

the manner in which this is brought about, is the problem to be

solved.

One feature of the phenomena which is used to show that the

tide is raised by attraction, is the difference in range of the sem1-

diurnal tides at different pcsitions of the moon, the higher tide

succeedirg the superior transit and north declination and the lower

transit during south declination, showing that the moon draws

the water after it. -

Now let us see how true this is.

The Atlantic tide is created in the southern part of the South

Atlantic ocean, and moving eastward reaches the African coast

shortly after the moon’s transit at that place. Thence it moves

north and west, reaching the United States coast twelve hours

later. The other side of the wave in connection with the Arctic

tide moving east and north, reaches Ireland four hours later, and

Dover straits twelve hours later still; so that in some places it is

the tide after moon’s transit, and in others the previous tide

which is observed, so that the facts become reversed.

Nearly all authors on this subject— the tides —are satisfied

214 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

with nothing less than the great South Pacific ocean, a thousand

miles off shore, for sufficient space to create the tidal wave, whence

they propagate the same all over the world from east to west.

Some think it possible that there is a new impulse given in each

ocean, while others think that possibly the origin may be in the

Indian ocean.

That these speculations are not all correct is evident from my

chart of co-tidal lines, which is based upon a collection of actual

facts from undoubted sources. One tide reaches the west coast of

Africa at the same moment of absolute time that another reaches

the east coast of Madagascar. These can by no means be the same

wave in any form, for, after reaching the respective cuasts, a por-

tion of each moves southward, these meet near the Cape of

Good Hope, unite, and move south as one wave. One tide arrives

on the west shore of Patagonia at the same time that another

reaches the east shore of the Falkland Islands. These move

south and three hours later unite near Cape Horn and go south

as one wave. These also are two entirely separate and distinct

tides coming from different oceans and from opposite directions.

A still more remarkable tide is that which reaches the north end

of New Zealand from the northeast. This tide travels south be-

tween Austria and New Zealand, is met by a tide from the Indian

ocean south of Tasmania, is turned eastward and makes the detour

of New Zealand in time to pass the succeeding tide off the north

end of the Islands. This wave i3 an important one, as it returns

just in time to reform the Pacific tide. The Society Islands,

where there is no perceptible tide, lie in the node between the

ascending and descending tides. The solar tide of 5-6 inches

reported at Tahiti is occasioned by the shifting of the node of no

tide, and the time, three hours before and after noon and mid-

night, is occasioned by what is termed priming and lagging of the

Junar tides.

The tide of the Indian ocean has its origin near the center of

that ocean, first moving decidedly north and east and then spread-

ing in a north and west direction. Owing to the great difference

indepth of this ocean and the consequent resistance, this tide is

subject to movements peculiar to itself. The Maldiveislands are

The Tides. sy

situate 400 miles west of Ceylon, and occupy 500 miles in a north

and south direction by about 40 miles wide. They are divided into

numerous groups by navigable channels of various depths. 1t is

estimated that the whole number of islands or Atols is no less

than 50,000, of which the largest is not more than eight miles in

circumference. ‘These islands present an immense barrier to the

tide, so that one portion is retarded, while another portion moves

on rapidly, making a large detour returns upon the retarded

portion like an eddy. The wave moving westward with a great

convex front reaches Madagascar, and, passing around both ends,

fills Mozambique Channel with high water in half an hour. One

portion then passes southwest and meets the south Atlantic tide,

the other advances north to Cape Gardafui, then moves eastward

with great velocity to the west coast of Hindoostan, filling the

Arabian sea, and moving south reaches the Maldives eight hours

after the main wave has passed the same point and entered the

Bay of Bengal. It will also be observed that the easterly side of

this tide moves both north and south of Australia; that on the

north meets the Pacific tide coming through Torres straits with a

difference of four hours; that on the south travels beyond Tas-

mania and joins a portion of the Pacific tide, a portion of both,

however, returning from South Victoria along the Antarctic conti-

nent to maintain the equilibrium.

The tide in the north Atlantic, which had its origin partly in

the Arctic Ocean and partly in the south Atlantic, moves eastward

with an extensive convex front and divides on the south end of

the British Isles; one portion enters the British Channel and

reaches Dover Straits in the time that the other portion makes the

entrance to. the North Sea. The tidein Dover Straits meets

another which entered the North Sea twelve hours before but

passes to the east of it and along the coast of France and the

Netherlands, and combining with a later tide from the north

reaches the Skaw 17 hours after passing Callais, while another

portion of this identical tfde travels south along the Haglish coast.

_ It will be observed that there is always a whole wave in the North

Sea which is necessary to preserve the sequence.

The tide passing north to Martha’s Vineyard is met at Nan-

216 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters.

tucket by a tide from the north four hours younger, but of greater

range, so that it is superposed on the lesser. The origin of the

Arctic tide is not traceable for want of data in these waters, but

it ascends Baffin’s Bay.

These facts go to show that we have not one but a number of

primary tides, created in different ocaans, acting in perfect har-

mony and repeating their phases as regular as the moon.

Observing the different motion of the tides, we find that they

obey in a particular manner certain varying impulses. Primarily

they move east, then west, with a general tendency to and from

the equator, unless interrupted by obstructions; and on the whole

they partake of a circular motion in time to repeat.

The original motion isa most decisive one, not as though a

stone were thrown into the water, as the comparison is sometimes

made, but just the opposite; the greater portion of a whole ocean

appears to heave and rise into a wave in the course of a few

hours.

In particular cases the impulse and its direction are very marked

owing to local interferences, such as the Bay of Fundy, where the

tide reaches the coast with great rapidity through a tongue of very

deep water, then moves endwise to the east, meets with the ob-

struction of Nova Scotia, so that the wave is augmented to alarm-

ing dimensions. Bristol Channel and a number of other places are

subject to similar tides, but of less extent. On the other hand we

find some eases of this kind in the other direction, for instance the

entrance to Magellan Straits, where the tide attains a range of 40

feet and over.

The foregoing are facts obtained from long observation and

careful investigation of the phenomena. More than 4,000 reliable

data were collected from tables such as “ Bowditch’s Navigator,”

Imray & Son’s “Lights and Tides of the World,” and various

other equally reliable sources. These were all reduced to abso-

lute time (Greenwich time) and platted on charts in their respec-

tive places. The true places of the co-tidal lines were thus

obtained, and the result shows beyond a doubt that the charts

of co-tidal lines now in use are far from being correct.

In Pliny’s judgment the cause was the sun and moon. We

The Tides. Dik

will also examine the remarks of others on this subject and see

how they agree.

The New Am. Cye. says: ‘The close relation which the times

of high water bear to the times of the moon’s passage shows that

the moon’s influence in raising the tides must be greater than the

sun's. In fact, while the whole attraction of the sun upon the

earth far exceeds that of the moon, yet, owing to the greater prox-

imity of the latter, the difference between its attraction at the

center of the earth and at the nearest and most remote points of

its surface, which produces the tides, is about two and one-half

times as great as the sun’s attraction at the same points.”

The argument might answer if the moon was very near the

earth so as to gather the water by tangental motion into a wave

beneath it until resisted by gravitation, provided also, that suffi-

cient time was allowed, as we are not dealing with a uniform en-

velop of water, but with oceans separated by continents, and

although the velocity of the tides is great, the translation of the

water is very slow, not such as would be required in heaping up

the water as the moon overleaps the continents from ocean to

ocean, whereas the wave comes up as though impelled by a sud-

den blow or stroke. An article on tides by repulgion in Vol. 4

of the South. Litt. Mess. says: “ When La Place! had ascertained

the fact, that as the mooon psssed over the Atlantic it was low

water under her and the swell was on either side of her, north

and south, and the further from the moon the greater the swell, is

it not 4 little strange that he should have come to the conclusion

that the moon was drawing up the water towards herself,” further

from the same; “as whenever the moon is vertical to any place,

it is invariably low water.” ‘These remarks, when properly ap-

plied, are correct so far as the position of the wave is concerned.

Bowditch in Mech. Celeste says: ‘“ By a remarkable singularity,

the low water takes place when the two bodies are in the meridian,

and the high water when they are in the horizon; so that the tide

subzides at the equator, under the body that attracts it.” Is ap-

pears that the origin of the tide is lost sight of, and the time

1La Place. Born, 1748; died, 1827.

218 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters.

required to reach the position of the moon is not considered,

there are times, however, when the tide is under the moon, but,

if we find the moon over a low water, we will also find the parent

wave in deep water on on the same meridian.

The same author, in the Messenger, further says: ‘‘ And as

when the moon approaches the meridian of Babelmandeb the

the water will fall there but continues its elevation ou each side.

as at Tonquin and in the Mozambique channel,” also, “the tide

remaining up so long at Tonquin gave rise to the notion, very

strangely indeed, that two tides met at that place.”

It is merely necessary to examine the facts in both these cases

and we will find that the falling water at Babelmandeb is the tide

of the moon’s previous transit, while tide in the Mozambique

ohannel is that of the immediate transit which culminates with

the moon in the Indian ocean in longitude 80° E, but does not

culminate in the Mozambique until the moon has reached longi-

tude 20° W. ‘The tide at Tonquin is a part of the Pacific tide

which enters the China sea through the Bashee and Balintang

channels between I’ormosa and Luzon and also a small tide from

the Balabec straits, these unite before reaching the Gulf of Ton-

quin, leaving a regular tide of 4 to six feet. There is, however,

a tide from the Indias ocean through Mallacca and Sunda Straits

which causes interferance in the Gulf of Siam, a body of water

similar to the Gulf of Tonquin but ten degrees of latitude nearer

the equator; the spring tides are only two feet at the entrance

but increase at the head of the gulf, so that the tide at Cape Liant

is seven feet, the time, however, is disturbed, so that the tide rises

three hours and falls nine.

The irregularities of the tide in the Straits of Magellan are

drawn upon to favor the theory by repulsion. ‘These tides are

such as would serve any desirable purpose. When the moon is

over the Atlantic the tide of the previous transit begins to rise at

Cape Virgins, so also the tide at Cape Pillar on the Pacific side

and in Cockburn Channel.

During three hours when the mcon is over the Atlantic the tide

at Cape Pillar does three honrs of its rising phase, at Cockburn

Channel the last two of falling and the first of rising and at Cape

The Tides. 219

Virgins the last of rising and first two hours of falling of the pre-

vious tide. Now when the moon is over the Pacific, say at 8

hours absolute time longitude 120° W., then it is two hours after

high water at Cape Pillar, just high water at Cockburn Channel

and seven hours after high water at Cape Virgins or five hours

before the high water succeeding the present moon. These con-

flicting phases make the problem a very complicate] one and the

more so when we consider the difference in range of these irreg-

ular tides. The tide at Cape Pillar at the sixth hour rises scarce

five feet; in the Cockburn Channel at the eight hour about five

(this tide divides into two branches on Clarence Island), while the

tide at Cape Virgins at the thirteenth hour has a range of from 88

to 42 feet. Reclus says that Fitzroy has measured tides here as

high as 62 feet. When we further consider the variable width of

the Straits with two narrows one of which is described as being

like the passage of the Bosphorus from the Black Sea into the

Marmara Sea we may conclude the hopeless task of attributing

these irregular fluctuation to any supposed cause whatever.

An article in Vol. 84 of the American Journal of Science says :

‘That the attraction of the moon regulates the times of the tides

caused by the gulf stream, is evident.” Further: “ Why does the

ocean always run swiftly into the Mediterranean Sea? No doubt

to keep up the subterranean stream which passes out of the Bay

of Mexico, called the Gulf stream.”

Here, in the first place is a confounding of cause and effect, the

motion of the tidal wave gives a slow progressive motion to a

large volume of water.

The waters of the Atlantic set in motion by the tide reflect

from the African shore and move in a north west direction; after

passing Cape St. Rogue the waters tarry six months under a trop-

ical sun before discharging from the Straits of Florida a volume

of water equal to 8,000 Mississippi rivers.

The constant current into the Mediterranean, which until re-

cently was considered to be the consequence of the evaporation

of the Sea, is only a surface current, and quite recently a strong

eounter-current has been diszovered at the bottom of Gibraltar

Straits setting into the Atlantic and accounting for the greater

220 Wesconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters.

part of the influx at the surface. This strait is large enough to

give freedom to tides and currents, its length from Cape Trafalgar

to HKuropa point, in Sprin, is 86 miles and its width from 15 to 24

miles, its depth is as much as 5,000 feet. The spring tides at

Lissa Island in the Adriatic are 25 feet and at Tripoli, Syria, at

the extreme east end of.the Mediterranean, they have still a range

ot two feet.

The New American Cycopedia speaking of the age of the tide,

says: ‘‘This delay, which even at the Cape of Good Hope

amounts to fourteen hours, is still the subject of investigation and

is probably mainly due to friction.”

If the co-tidal charts by Whewell and others were correct, then

the delay would be much greater than that here mentioned, these

charts give the origin of the tide in the Pactfic, thence they bring

the.tide across the Pacific and Indian ocean and into the Atlantic

by way of the Cape of Good Hope. The fact is, that this tide is

created in the Atlantic ocean exactly on time with moon's tran-

sit, so that there is no delay at this point, but from here the tide

is twelve hours in reaching the United States coast, 14 in reaching

Spain and 24 hours readhing Dover by way of the British

Channel.

From the same source we have the following:

“Tf the tides arrive at the same place by two different channels

and one of them is retarded behind the other by six hours, in

consequence of traveling a longer route or in shallow water, the

semidiurnal tides will be destroyed by an interference of the

waves, that is, by the high water of one being superimposed on

the low water of the other.”

This phenomenon is common, two waves unite and one is the

result, but, this does not prevent a recurrence after 12 lunar

hours, the semidiurnal phase is not affected whatever in any case.

If the tide divides on, and passes around an island, the two parts

unite and reform the wave, or, if the tides meet in a long ckannel

the result is a commotion which stops both until drawn down by

the succeeding tides, or they may, as at the Isle of Wight, cross

each other both ways causing double high tides. In this case the

tide from the west enters the “Solent” at ten hours with a range

The Tides. 221

of 7-8 feet, and, the main wave having reached Spithead, another

tide enters here a little over one hour later with a range of 12 to

18 feet so that there is a second highwater 21 hours after the first

at Southampton; the second tide passes also to the west from

“'Cowes,’’ after the first has passed making a second highwater at

Lymington. The two parts of the tide wave remain distinct.

The point of meeting or crossing at Cowes is such as to leave the

general direction of the tides at rightangles and it can be prac-

tically demonstrated that two sets of waves may travel in this

manner without any serious interference. |

When, however, two tides .aeet in the ocean, they will form one

wave which will progress in a direction which will be the resultant

of the previous direction and velocity of the separate tides. We

must also bear in mind that in all, excepting rare cases, the tide

in questiou supplants a wave whica occupied the same location

twelve hours before.

The semi-diurnal tides may differ to such an extent that the

high water of one corresponds with the low water of the other,

and may leave the impression of but one or a diurnal tide, the

appellation however is a misnomer, there being really no diurnal

tide; the distortion can be recognized in every case so that there

is no question of there being two tides. This compounding is not

due to a meeting of tides but to the location and time of the orig-

inating impulse as we will see further on.

It happens at times that one of the semi-diurnal tides is entirely

lost and this is, when the wave is small and travels free by its

own vis viva after the force is removed, being constantly retarded

in its movement and at length unable any longer to overcome the

resistance of friction the wave finally stops and is lost. This is

the case in the guif tides when the moon’s declination is maxi-

mum, one of the waves is so small that it is scarcely distinguisha-

ble and is at times lost before reaching the coast.

Where two tides of the same type but of nifferent origin meet

as at Cape Horn and the Cape of Good Hope, they unite and

become one wave. The meeting of the tide off the capes will

account for the turbulent condition of the sea in these localities.

Only a few of many tidal theories are noticed tn the foregoing

222 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters.

remarks and it appears that in every instance the authors had a

very indifferent knowledge of tidal phenomena.

Reclus was not far from correct when he said: “ Cotidals ac-

cording Whewell are accepted, but it is not certain that things

occur in this way, in fact, it is ascertained that in each oceanic

basin the tide seems to start from the centre and be propagated in

all directions parallel to the general direction of the coasts.”

Fhis remark was a welcome discovery when the accompanying

chart began to develop into its present form, so also a statement

from an unknown author, that the tide possibly had its origin in

the middle of the Indian Ocean: also the report of a British

naval commander who stated “that instead of a constant current

westward around the Cape of Good Hope he had known vessels

to remain stationary for days and even to drift to the east.” Now

it is safe to say that had the tide been constantly in one direction

around the cape, as it was supposed to be, then the current would

also have been constant in the same direction.

The tides of the British Channel and North Sea have already

been mentioned but owing to so singular phenomena a special in-

vestigation will be interesting. The accompanying chart shows

every feature of these remarkable tides.

The cotidal lines represent the progress at each hour of absolute

time; the age of the tide is reckoned from its origin in the South

Atlantic when the moon transits the meridian of Greenwich at 12

o'clock noon or.midnight (this is at full and change).

A tongue of deep water, over 2,500 fathoms deep, extends far

‘into the Bay of Biscay, and when the tide arrives off this point

‘it makes a decided lateral move into the bay with great velocity,

from the 14th to the 15th hour, at the same time approaching the

shores of Ireland and England, dividing on Cape Clear at the

16th and Lands End a little before the 17th hour; the southeast

portion passes through the British channel and Dover straits in a

northeast direction at the 24th hour, and it here passes a tide on

its west 12 hours older. Meeting as they do, these tides reflect

and preserve their individuality on opposite shores in opposite

directions. The tide from the channel keeps along the east shore

and meets a tide.off the coast of Jutland 12 hours younger than

The Tides. 2s

the one we have followed thus far. But where is-our associate?

While we were lingering in the channel, and the straits, he went

around the longer way with great strides and met our predecessor

at the point where we now are, just as we were tasting of the Dutch

Rhine, and combining with him made the passage of the Skagger

Rack and washed the shores of Gotheborg Sweden at 30 hours as

we shall when 42 hours old. From Cape Clear the tide moves

along the west shore of Ireland, the Western Isles and coast of

Scotland, reaching the Orkney and Shetland Isles at the 2Ist

hour. Here it divides, never to meet again; one part passes be-

tween the Islands and moves south along the coast of Scotland

and England and at the mouth of the Thames at the 36th hour

passes a Channel tide 24 hours old, its own associate is already

approaching Jutland. The tide between the Shetlands and Nor-

way moves rapidly southeastward through a belt of water over

100 fathoms deep, and at the 26th hour meets a channel tide 12

hours older, as we have before observed. When this Norway

tide departs eastward a portion breaks to the westward and fol-

lows the main wave along the coast of Scotland, but, being de-

layed by several hours, causes a second high water, thus making

apparent four highwaters as far as Peter Head. These four tides

were attributed to the channel tides, but it 1s evident that if this

was the case, the tides would be observed along the English rather

than the Scottish coast. The middle of the North Sea has no tide,

which is corroborated by careful soundings made by the British

navy over a shoal where no oscillation was observed. [rom this

it will be observed that there can be not less than two tidal waves

in the North Sea at any time, and as many as four at one time

during each phase, the resulting confusion of currents can easier

be imagined than described.

A portion of the tide which we have been considering enters

St. George’s and Bristol channels, also the North channel into the

Trish sea. The waves by St. George’s and North channels meet

near the the Isle of Man about the 28d hour, their range along

the Irish coast was moderate, but the meeting produces a range of

20 feet and over. )

The tide in the Bristol channel, charging straight from the sea

224. Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters.

into a nearly uniformly contracting channel, increases rapidly in

range as it ascends the Severn. Entering with range of 20 feet it

increases to 27 at Ilfracombe, to 85 at Bridgewater Bay, to 37 at

Cardiff, 88 at Chepstow and to 40 feet at Bristol. Above Bristol

the entire rise occurs in about two hours, and the fall in about ten.

Here the resistance of friction is such that the axis of the wave is —

much inclined by. the dragging of the front, and the impulse from

the momentum of the volume. The front of the wave becomes

steeper and the rear slope much longer, the latter being drawn

to supply the next wave.

The JMJascarret Huger or Barre is an exaggerated distortion due

to excessive contraction either lateral or vertical. The immediate

cause of this phenomenon is, that a sufficient quantity of water to

preserve the form of the wave is unable to rise in front before it

is overwhelmed by the heaped up water of the wave whose axis

is inclined so far from the vertical that it breaks over and rolls

along upon the surface. When occasioned by excessive lateral

contraction, the eager ferms at and follows along the shores of the

stream, but when caused by shoals in the middle grounds it forms

and follows up the middle of the stream, preserving its identity

for a considerable time after passing the cause of the abnormity.

A few short waves generally follow the eager, leaving high water

immediately behind them.

While investigating the various phases of the tidal phenomena,

it must be noticed that there always has been a determination to

have the tide move with the moon from east to west, and owing

to this desire many aspects have remained unnoticed, or have been

disregarded because they happened to conflict with some theory

under construction. In nearly all articles on tides the common

remark is, that ‘‘in tidal rivers the tide always moves up-stream,

even when this is in the opposite direction to that in which the

moon appears to move.” This would imply that tide should re-

main under the moon while the earth revolved to the east, and

that the tides on the east shores are produced by the advance of

the solid earth against the suspended mobile waters. It is true,

the tide moves south along the east shores of Scotland and Kng-

land, but, as we have seen, it is also true that at the same time

The Tides. 225

there is a tide on the west shore of the Netherlands in the same

latitude. The course of the Severn, before noticed, is eastward

from the sea, so also the direction of the Bay of Fundy, with 70

feet tide. These facts are sufficient to show that the tide does not

follow the moon in her apparent course from east to west, while

the earth is revolving on its axis from west to east.

For the purpose of attracting attention to coincidences, a few

-of the principal mountain chains are given on the chart of which

the tides and the conformation of the coasts are, however, the

principal features. It will be observed that after forming in the

deepest part of the oceans, the first point of impact of the tides

is against the foot of a chain of mountains. The indentations of

the coasts are not wholly the effect of tidal abrasion, as is indi-

cate! by the parallel position of the mountains, but indicate that

the tide producing force now operative was active in contributing

towards the formation of continents in a fluid much denser than

that which it now propels

By observing the beginning and progress of a storm at sea, we

may form some idea of how nature has grown into equilibrium.

When the storm begins the waves are varied in form and size and

their motions are tumultuous, but when at length sufficient matter

is set in motion to satisfy the conditions between the force acting

and the surface under action, then the waves become perfect in

form and their regularity will bear comparison with the tides.

The tide producing force necessarily acts upon all bolies of

water, either great or small, but its effect is very different in lakes

and inland seas from what it is in the oceans. In the former there

is a constant and ineffectual effort to produce regularity, in the

latter the oscillation is established.

The mass and extent of surface must be proportioned to the

force. In inland lakes and seas there are continued fluctuations,

but small, and the intervals are short, the duration béing from a

few minutes to several hours.

These oscillations are the result of the tide producing force and

the irregulaiity is the effect of interference and reaction, the’ sur-

face, mass and force not being in correct proportion.

The lake and also ocean tides may be illustrated by a simple

226 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

experiment and the various pbases and interferences may be pro-

duced just as they occur in nature. ©

Tf we take a basin of water and agitate the same, we may pro-

duce one or more waves; if now we regulate the impulse while

we observe the motion, we may time the same so as to produce -

regular oscillations which will continue until a change of force

takes place; whenever such change takes place either in amount ~

or duration, interferences will appear which after a time will cause

the wave or waves to come to a state of rest, but if the same im-

pulse continues, the oscillations begin again, increase to maximum,

diminish and again cease.

This will be the case whether the impulse be greater or less or

the time faster or slower than that necessary to produce regularity.

This is practically true of the great lakes, the oscillations observed

are the effect of the tide producing force which is entirely dispro-

portioned to the extent of the volume acted upon, the resulting

irregularities recur in periods from which the tide may be deter-

mined by elimination.

There are many peculiarities attending the tides as they meet

with the varied obstructions of the coast, prominent among these

is that the range of tide is less at the most advanced portions of

a continent than at either side. The advancing tidein these cases

meets with the resistance of the submerged portion of the Cipe

long before reaching the coast and departs to either hand, thereby

diminishing the tide at the cape, which, having reached the coast,

divides, and by its momentum crowds upon that part of the tide

already making in the bays or indentations of the coast on either

side.

We have thus far followed the tidal phenomena through all

their principal phases with the moon as the cause or companion of

the same.

In order to deduce the cause of the tides we will refer to first

principles and then compare facts with the laws of nature. Ac-

cording to Keppler’s' two first laws, based upon the observations

1Johan Keppler, Wurtemburg. Born 1570, died 1630. Ist and 2d, 1609;

8rd, 1618, May 15.

The Tides. 227

of Tycho Brahé' and published in 1609, the planets revolve

around the sun in elliptical orbits and their radii vectores describe

equal areas in equal times. The moon is supposed to revolve

about the earth in this manner, the orbit being elliptical with the

earth occupying one of the foci. Now, Keppler’s laws are strictly

true when only one planet and the sun are considered, but ina

system, they are subject to complicated pertutbations. Newton’s”

Principle, based upon Keppler’s laws half a century later, is con-

sequently subject to equally complicated modifications.

According to the laws of gravitation, all bodies attract each

_ other in proportion to their mass and inversely as the squares of

the distance, also, bodies which mutually attract each other re-

volve around their common centers of gravity.. These apply to

‘our whole system, and we may say, to the whole universes

Between the earth and moon there will be a point which will de-

seribe an orbit around the sun while the earth’s center will

describe a circle around this common center of revolution,

_ There will appear some complication, for while the two bodies

revolve about a*common center, the moon is describing an ellip-

tical orbit whose excentricity varies between 1-18 and 1-15 and

whose major axis makes a complete revolution in about nine

years in direct motion, and although both conditions cannot be

entirely true at the same time, yet this will not alter the law

while it modifies the results. When the moon is in quadratures

both bodies are affected alike by the sun, as the common center

hes in their mutual orbit. At this instant either law will apply

as the respective orbits of the moon due to either law coincide at

this point, and although it may be said that the earth has actual

control, its force being at right angles to that of the sun at this

‘point, the moon is actually performing a planetary orbit about

the sun.

As soon however as the moon moves out of quadratures in the

ellipse, the earth yields to the law of mutual attraction, on account

of the dominant force of the sun, its center describes an undu-

1 Tycho Brahé, a Dane. Born 1546, died 1601. Rejected Corernicus.

? Newton, born 1642, died 1727. Principia, 1627.

228 Wasconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

lating course about the sun and the common center or point of

revolution between the earth and moon describes the orbit.

The ultimate result of these antagonistic efforts is, that the

point of revolution between the ‘earth and moon fluctuates be-

tween the earth’s center and the common center of gravity of the

two bodies.

The earth revolves about the common center of revolution,

which lies within its own volume, with the same regular velocity

that the moon revolves in her orbit. Th's motion produces a

centrifugal force, which, owing to eccentricity, is tangent to the —

earth only in the plane of the moon and the axis of rotation; the |

constant change of the axis causes this force to fluctuate between

nil and maximum twice in a lunation, that is, nil at quadratures

and maximum at syzygies.

‘The force thus produced, which I will call centrifugal prepon-

derance, varies between the 1-900 and 1-500 of the centrifugal

force due to the earth’s rotary motion. The effect of the earth’s

rotation was to produce the spheroidal form of the earth and its

present office is to maintain it with a flattening at the poles of

nearly 26 miles; if this force were to cease, the oceans would

retire to the poles.

Now a force equal to 1-900 part of this, acting uniformly and

constantly, would, if we simply consider the result proportionate

to the force, cause a flattening of 150 feet, but as we shall see, this

force does not act uniformly or constantly, neither have we a

continuous mobile surface to consider acted upon, so that this

change of form is impossible. Should we however assume a unt-

form surface of water and taking this force as acting in the mean

one half the time on one-tenth of the surface on opposite sides,

we would have a tide of seven feet which agrees with the pro-

tuberances of the Elipsoid of water produced by some highly

scientific investigations.

The eccentricity of the force causes the same to deviate from

the centrifugal force due to the earth’s rotation everywhere on the

surface excepting at two points; these are, the p»int directly

under the moon and the point opposite. At other points in the

plane of the moon’s orbit it has a tendency of only slightly de-

the Tides. 929

flecting the earth’s force, and in the endeavor to overcome the

superior force of gravity the waters are thereby depressed shortly

before being presented to the point of activity and hence are pre-

pared to leap forward to meet the moon at its transit as the tides

are known to do.

The centrifugal force is greatest in the plane of the moon’s or-

bit and diminishes towards the poles of rotation in proportion to

the cosine of the angular distance so that at the distance of 60

degrees it is reduced to onehalf. The centrifugal force of a

rotating sphere is everywhere parallel to the plane of the equator;

the components of this force at any point are: a force acting in

Opposition to gravity and a force at right angles to the same, hav-

ing a tendency to move matter towards the equator. This is the

case with the tides, for no sooner have they formed, in fact during

their formation, they depart toward the equator.

To follow the recurring impulse upon the tides as they depart

from their origin on their respective journeys must here be

omitted for want of time, by comparing the cotidal lines on the

chart with the moon’s hour at the top and bottom of the chart,

the effect can easily be traced.

In order to connect several other features of the tide with this

tide-producing force, it will be necessary to define more closely

the moon’s position and the variable orbit which she pursues.

The moon’s orbit is inclined to the plane of the ecliptic about

5i degrees so that her latitude cannot exceed this quantity, but

the earth’s equator is inclined 23° 26’ to the ecliptic, thence the

moon’s declinztions will vary from 0 to 28° 40’ north and south

of the equator. The maximum declinations also vary by twice

the latitude by reason that the nodes of the orbit are not constant

but have a retrogade motion so that the moon may occupy every

possible position in a zone of 10°40’. The declinations will be

greatest when the line of nodes coincides with the equinoctial

line, for here the earth’s declination plus the moon’s latitude will

be the moon’s declination. These maximum declinations coincide

with the moon’s quadratures at the equinoxes and with the

syzygies at the solstices, and vary between these points in the

interval.

230 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

We have seen how the moon assumes various positions from

south to north of the equator in each revolution about the earth,

and we will find that the oceans are differently affected during

inferior from superior transits. For we will first suppose the moon

in the plane of the equator which occurs at new and full moon in

the equinox and in the quadratures at solstices. Itis evident that

the moon holds the same relative position to the sea under her

as the lower transit does to the sea on the remote side, and the result

is the same; but when we consider the moon in maximum north

or south declinations then the conditions are entirely changed ;

the lower transit of north declination and upper of south declia-

tion affect the sea further south than the upper north and lower

south so that the results must be different for each pair. In order

to illustrate, several tides of Cape Flattery on the Pacific coast are

added to the sketch ; these are sketched according to the reported

observations of the U.S. coast survey.

The wave A | arrives arrives ahead of mean time after transit ;

B11 is behind time; A 2 is separated one lunar day from A 1,

and so on. These are the tides of max. decs. The tides A 1,

A 2, etc., were formed by an upper transit with the moon at U,

N. dec., or by a lower transit with the moon at L, S. decl., and the

ocean at EH will be affected alike by either; but since the line

from the moon pierces the ocean north of the equator, the tide

will be formed north of the mean origin and will come ahead of

mean time. On the other hand, the tides B 1, B 2, etc, are

formed by an upper transit with the moon at L, S. decl., or by a

lower transit with the moon at U, N. decl., and the ocean at Q

will also be affected equally by either ; but since the ]ine from the

moon pierces the ocean south of the equator the tide will be

formed south of the mean origin and will be behind time. The

result is obvious ; the wave B 1 being behind its proper place and

the wave A 2 in advance, an overlapping takes place and the

tides assume a mixed type. The tide travels by the rising of the

water in front and the falling to the rear of the crest, hence

the tide A in raising the rear slope of the tide B draws upon the

volume and causes a degradation of the latter, the distance be-

tween B land A 2 being greater than the mean interval, the

The Tides. 231

depression also becomes greater as the water which should belong

to one is in part taken up by the other. If these intervals were

not oscillating as they are; but continuous in pairs, the result

would be the same as in inland lakes.

The highest spring tides should take place during the equinoxes

when the oceans are affected alike for both upper and lower tran-

sits by the maximum force for several days in succession, but

from four years careful observations I have found the mean rise

and fall greatest during the five months, August to December

inclusive; also the highest and lowest tides and maximum and

minimum rise and fall from November to February inclusive.

The tides are known to rise higher as the moon approaches the

earth. As the moon approaches, the common centre comes nearer

the earth’s centre and the centrifugal force increases as the moon’s

motion increases from its closer proximity, hence the tides increase.

The tides on opposite sides, or corresponding to different transits

‘of the moon, are practically alike when the moon is on the equa-

tor, now since the impulse on opposite sides is about as 500 to 900

the question will arise why the effect is not in proportion to the

cause. As the pendulum will return nearly to the point from

which it has fallen so these oscillations would also nearly repeat

themselves, but since other waves approach to form the succeed-

ing tide it is only necessary that the impulse should be repeated

at the regular intervals necessary for equilibrium. -There are

those who deny the existence of the force at the side remote from

the moon, but the inequality of the semidiurnal tides is sufficient

to prove the existence of tiat force. .

Tt has been stated that the force is nil at the moon’s quadra-

tures, then why any tides at these phases? The nil force exists

but an instant and as before remarked, these oscillations will

nearly repeat themselves even when they are changing with an

increasing ratio as they change when approaching quadratures at

the equinoxes, in fact Newton said, that when these oscillations

were fairly established, the luminaries might be removed, and the

tides would continue for an indefinite time. We also find that

the effect does not immediately follow the cause, for the inverse

order of tides does not take place for several days after change of

282 Wrsconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

declination neither do the highest tides occur at full and change

of the moon, nor the least tides in the quadratures.

A singular fact in nature, which is attributable to the tides, is

‘the existence of the Sargossa seas in mid ocean. The tide in mid

ocean is very small as has been ascertained at islands along the

‘course of the tide. At the shores however, the tide is retarded

and its range increased, so that the surface of the ocean is practi-

-eally lower than its limits, forming a sort of settling basin whence

the singular seas. A current chart by Bowditch shows a current

from all directions towards the Sargossa sea in the Atlantic.

There is another question which arises and that is, why, if there

is a primary tide in each of the southern oceans, there is not also

the same in the northern oceans ?

In the first place, the southern oceans are the largest and deep-

‘est and the effect produced upon them would preponderate over

that produced on the smaller oceans. In the second place, the

origin was not a matter of chance or choice but necessity, for as

soon as the condensation of ayueous matter was sufficient to fill

or to partly fill an oceanic basin, the tides began to move and as

the oceans continued to increase, the motion was imparted to the

increasing waters, the regularity of the impulse had the effect of

produciog the regular succession of tides of the oceans as the

earth in its diurnal revolutions presented them successively to

the tide producing force.

To sum up this investigation we have:

First. A primary tide in each of the southern oceans, and one

“in the Arctic ocean. .These rise twice a day, and their appear-

ance corresponds in time exactly with the moon’s apparent motion.

The semi-diurnal tides differ in magnitude with the moon's de-

clination from the equator, showing that there is a tide force

under the moon and also one on the remote side of the earth giv-

ing a tide following the inferior as well as the superior transit of

the moon. The tides are greatest at the full and change and

least at quadratures, and the range varies perceptibly with the

distance of the moon.

‘Second. The moon revolves about the earth in an eliptical

orbit, and by mutual attraction both reyolye about a common:

The Tides, "Gao

center. This common center is the point attracted by the sun

and describes the orbit common to both bodies. The earth's

center describes an undulating line, bzing part of the time within

and part of the time without the common orbit. The common

center is a variable point, on account of the variable attraction of

the sun on the two bodies, and varies or fluctuates between the

earth’s center and the common center of gravity of the two

-bodies. The earth revolves about the common center with the

same angular velocity that the moon revolves in her orbit.

The resulting eccentric motion of the earth begets a centrifugal

force which coincides with the centrifugal force of the diurnal

revolution only under and opposite to the moon in the plane

passing through the moon. ;At other plates it tends only to de-

flect the line of gravity. When the common center coincides

with the earth’s center the force ceases, and is maximum when

these points are at their greatest distance. When the moon ap-

_ proaches the earth her velocity increases, also the angular velocity

/about the common center, hence also the centrifugal force. This

force tends also to move matter towards the equator in the plane

. of its activity.

From the foregoing argument the following is deduced as the

cause of the tides:

In the first place it is evident that every phase and feature

points direct to the moon as the cause of the phenomena, but in

the next place the Jaws of nature show very clearly that the

moon is only the implement by which the superior controlling

force operates, the moon’s efforts as the satellite of the earth being

due to the sun’s influence. The sun is therefore the prime cause

operating in accordance with the grand principle discovered by

the great Newton and announced to the world 193 years ago, the

principle of UNIVERSAL GRAVITATION.

234 Wasconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

ON A PROPOSED SYSTEM OF LITHOLOGICAL NO-

MENCLATURE.

By T. C. CHAMBERLIN, Ph. D., Director of the Wisconsin Geological Survey.

‘That our present system of lithological nomenclature is in some

important respects uusatisfactory, it is needless to assert. It is

inadequate, in that it falls far short of properly designating all

the mineral ageregates that have now become subjects of descrip-

tion, and of not infrequent reference in geological literature. It

is ambiguous, in that certain terms in common use are differently _

used by different writers. So comnion a term as syenzte, and the

not infrequent ones melaphyr and gabbro, are striking examples.

It is inaccurate, in that it groups under the same term, rocks

whose ultimate chemical composition varies widely, or those

whose origin is diverse. It is mischievous, in'that the individu-

ality of its naming inevitably implies hard and fast lines which

do not exist in nature. Itis etymologically objectionable, in that

terms are wrested from their derivative sense, and forced into in-

congruous applications. Thus the term granite is driven from its

popular, and, as it happens in this case, proper application to a

wide class of grained crystalline rocks, and restricted to a certain

nuneralogical aggregation. |

That these objections are felt in greater or less degree is shown

(1) by the drift in the signification of terms, (2) by the efforts

made to restrict and define old terms, (8) by the introduction of

new terms, (4) by the compounding of lerms, and (5) by the use

of ‘mineralogical names as defining adjectives. As examples of

compounding may be cited such terms as quartz-syenite, oligo-

clase-trachyte, quartz-augite-andesite, labradorite-diorite, horn-

blend-andesite, dioritic-gniess, hornblendic-biotite-gneiss, and so

on through the long list of complex térms that characterize the

later and more precise lithological discussions.

The essential features of the proposed system lie in the direc-

tion of this manifest tendency, and consist, essentially (1), in an

Lithological Nomenclature. 235

effort to separate lithological terms into distinct classes, having

reference to the several different attitudes from which the char-

acter of rocks may be viewed, as physical, chemical, mineralog-

ical, petrographical; and (2), the introduction of a series of

contractions, and a system of compounding terms, which shall

render lithological names at once specific, self-explanatory and

measurably quantitative. At the same time the mischievous im-

plications attached to prevalent terms, fashioned after those ap-

plied to definite mineralogical species, are avoided.

Lithological terms are either adjective or nominal in character,

and a complete series of each would greatly‘facilitate expression.

The following classification of terms, embracing mainly those

already in use, will make more clear the place and function of the

changes and additions proposed :

LITHOLOGICAL TERMS.

A. ADJECTIVE.

Class I. Basis of Olassification— The Physical Nature of the Con-

stituents.

( Conglomeratic.

1. Fragmental. (Detri- J Sandy or arenaceous.

tal, Clastic. ) Clayey or argillaceous.

| Compact, ete.

Granular or phanero-crystalline.

2. Crystalline. « Crypto-crystalline.

Porpbyritic, (the above combined.)

Class I. Basis of Clussification — The Structure of the Mass.

Massive.

Schistose.

Shaly.

Slaty.

Laminated, etc.

Class Ill. Basis of Classification — Coherence.

Tenaceous, firm, compact, etc.

Incoherent, friable, uncompacted, ete.

236

Wrsconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

Class IV. Basis of Classification — Chemical Nature.

Silicious.

Calcareous.

Ferruginous.

Carbonaceous, etc.

Class V. Basis of Classification — Mineral Constitution.

(Quartzose.

Micaceous.

. Pyritiferous.

Garnetiferous.

Staurolitic.

Chloritic, ete.

Class VI. Basis of Classification — Lithological Character.

Granitic.

Basaltiec.

- Dolomitic.

Porphyritic.

Trachytric.

Dioritic, ete.

Class VII. Basis of Classification.— Origin.

Igneous,

Aqueous,

Metamorphic,

Pseudomorphie,

Kolian, ete.

B. NOMINAL.

Class I. Basis. — Physical Form of the Constituents, (AMainly.)

Pudding stone.

Conglomerates: + Gravel, (incoherent conglomerate).

Breccia.

Grit, grit-rock, sand, sandstone, sandrock.

Clay, mud, silt, earth, alluvium, soil,

Till,

Tufa, etc.

Lnthological Nomenclature. 237

Or, again,

Crystallites,

Clastites,

A ggregites,

A morphites.

The term: of the last named group may be defined as follows:

Crystallites, those rocks that are crystalline in structure ;

Clastites, those which are fragmental or detrital in origin ;

Aggregites, those which are simply accumulations of individ-

ualized particles of matter, coherent or incoherent, neither crys-

talline nor detrital in origin, as infusorial earth, or chalk, when it

is composed of uncomminuted Rhizopod shells ;

Amorphites, those rocks in which there are no discernible indi-

vidualized constituents.

Clauss Il, Basis of Classification.— Structure of the Mass.

Schist,

Shale,

Sate, ete.

Or, again,

Stratified,

Unstratified.

Class IL, Basis of Classification.— The Crystalline Character of the

Constituents.

Granite, (crystals distinct).

Granulite, (crystals minute). -

Aphanite, (no visible crystals).

Porphyry, (crystals in compact base).

It is proposed to restore the term granite to a proper etymo-

logical use, and apply it to rocks consisting of distinct, crystalline

grains of medium or large size, and to deprive it of mineralogical

signification, making it a term denoting simply a certain class of

cry-tailine aggregates.

It is proposed to designate minutely granular crystalline rocks,

238 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

by the diminutive term granulitz. Aphanite may then be more

freely used to include all erypto-crystalline rocks, while porphyry

will embrace combinations of the last with the two former.

Class 1V. Basis of Classification — nes Characters.

Trachyte.

Rhyolite.

Pumice.

Scoria.

Phonolite.

Buhrstone.

Pearlstone, etc.

Class V. Basis of Classification — Origin.

Lava.

Trap.

Meta ( )

Teno ( 5)

Aguo ( 5)

There is a very prevalent, and, for the most part, just prejudice

against the use of the name /rap, arising from the frequent use of

the term as though it conveyed a mineralogical signification,

whereas the term really has none, and, in its proper application,

includes rocks of various mineralogical and chemical constitution.

But this abuse is really but an aggravated instance of what is

common, indeed, almost universal, under the present system of

nomenclature. To merely specify that a rock is granite, may be

to use that term as a ‘cloak of ignorance” in the same sense,

though perhaps not to an equal degree, as to rest with the asser-

tion that a rock is a “‘trap;” for the term granite embraces a

scarcely less wide range of minerals or of ultimate chemical con-

stituents, and the wresting of the term from its primitive and

proper application, is scarcely less violent. If, however, the term

trap be stripped of all pretension to mineralogical signification,

and ccnficed to the simple designation of rocks formed of matter

that issued through fissures, either constituting dikes, or spreading

‘out into sheets, and so incidentally giving rise to step-like topog-

Lithological Nomenciature. 209

raphy, as distinguished from lavas that have arisen from craters

and flowed away in radial streams, with the attendant structural

distinctions between the two, it will serve a convenient function in

the literature of the subject, without being a “cloak of ignorance ”

in any other sense than Java is, or many other general, very con-.

venient and necessary terms.

There will, doubtless, arise many cases in which it will be im-

possible to determine the method of issuance of a given igneous

rock, and neither the term Java nor trap could be used in the

resiricted sense here proposed, and there may be little funda-

mental distinction between the phenomena in the two cases; but

both the distinction and the terms. are serviceable in geological

literature, when stripped of the pretentious clothing to which they

have no title.

Prof. Dana has suggested that metamorphic rocks be designated

by the prefix meta. If this were generally adopted it would

doubtless be serviceable; but the limitations of knowledge being

such as they are, it would seem almost necessary to introduce a

corresponding prefix to indicate similar rocks of igneous or

aqueous origin. Vor if the simple name, as diorite for example,

be understood to imply igneous origin, and the compound term,

as meta-diorite, a metamorphoric one, it would be necessary, in the

very naming of the rock, to assert an opinion as to its origin. But

in many cases it is impossible to positively determine the origin

of a rock, whose other characteristics may be very well known;

and there would be no convenient term to express this knowledge,

without implying knowledge not possessed. In respect to gran-

ite, for instance, it is contended, severally, by able geologists, that

it may have an igneous, an aqueous, and a metamorphic origin,

and yet, in many instances, the working geologist would not feel

at liberty to assert that a given granite belonged to either class;

and it would be a sore inconvenience to be obliged to make an

implied assertion upon the subject, or else be shut out wholly

from the use of the term granite. If, therefore, the system of

introducing prefixes to designate origin be adopted at all, it

should be complete, and yet leave the working geologist at liberty

to use the ‘fundamental term, free from the added signification.

240. Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

It is hence suggested that the term me‘a- be used as a prefix, when

it is desired briefly and conveniently to assert a metamorphic

origin; that the prefix zgno- be usad similarly to assert an igneous

origin; and aguo- in like manner, to imply an aqueous origin ;

while the simple terms shall have merely their own mineralogical,

or other appropriate, signification.

Class V will then embrace the terms, lava and trap, used to

designate rocks of certain special eruptive origins, and a long list

of terms to which the prefixes meta , ingno- and aquo- are attached

to signify, respectively, metamorphic, igneous and aqueous origin.

The foregoing terms furnish fair, though somewhat inadequate,

facilities for the designation of the several classes of properties

indicated under the headings. There remains to be added a series

of terms which shall express the mineralogical constitution of

rocks, which is by far their most important characteristic. It is

in respect to this that our present system is weakest, and, from the

fact that it attempts to impose fixed names upon indefinitely vary-

ing ageregations, must necessarily ever remain unsatisfactory. It

is, therefore, proposed to escape this difficulty by the use of a

svstem of flexible compound terms, which shall admit of varia-

tion to express varying composition, and, roughly, the varying

quantitative relations of the mineral ingredients. As above in-

dicated, the growing tendency in lithological literature is toward

the employment of compounds of mineralogical names. The

advantage of this, in clearness and precision, as well as in the con-

venience of the reader, is manifest. But it results in cumbersome

terms, and if carried sufficiently far to overcome the defects of

the present system, becomes burdensome. This, however, may

be obviated by a series of contractions which shall retain a sig-

nificaut portion of the mineralogical name, without the burden of

its entirety. Jor the sake of euphonious combinations, these con-

tractions may be varied somewhat ia their several combinations.

The following are suggested as available abbreviations of the

names of the leading minerals that enter into the composition of

rocks, and it will not be difficult to extend the list to any other

minerals that may, in given instances, become prominent litholog-

ical constituents.

Lithological Nomenclature. 241

ABBREVIATIONS OF THE NAMES OF MINERALS CONSTITUTING

Rocks.

Quartz — Qua., or qu.

Feldspar — Fel.

Orthoclase — Orth., or ortho.

Microcline— Micr., or micro.

Oligoclase— Olig., or oligo.

Labradorite — Lab., labra., or labrad.

Albite — Al., alb., or albi.

Andesite — And., or ande. |

Nephelite— Neph., or nephe.

Leucite — Leuc., or leuci.

Sodalite— Soda., or sodal.

Mica — Mi.

Muscovite— Muse., or musco.

Biotite — Bio., or bi.

Hydromica — Hydrom., or hydromi.

Amphibole — Amph., or amphi.

Hornblende — Horn., or ’orn.

Actinolite — Act., or actin.

Smaragdite — Smar., or smara.

Tremolite — Trem., or tremo.

Pyroxene — Pyr., pyro., or pyrox.

saA.ugite — Aug., or augi.

Sahlite — Sahl.

Diallage — Dial.

Hypersthene — Hypers., or hypersth.

Saussurite — Saus., or sausu.

Hpidote — Ep., epi., or epid.

Garnet — Gar., garn., or garne.

Chrysolite — Chrys., or chryso.

(Olivine — Oliv., or olivi.)

Calcite — Cale., or calci.

Serpentine — Serp., or serpe.

Chlorite — Chlo., or chlor. |

Pyrite — Pyri., or pyrit.

Magnetite — Mag., magn, or magne.

242 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

Hematite — Hem., or hema.

Menaccanite — Menac., or menacca.

Tourmaline — Tour., or tourma.

Graphite — Graph., or graphi.

Apatite— Ap., or apa.

Andalusite — Andal., or andalu.

Cyanite — Cy., or cyan.

Sericite — Seri., or seric.

Zircon — Zir., zire., or zirco.

In the combination of these it is suggested that the leading

constituent stand first, and that the remaining constituents follow

in the order of importance. In crystalline rocks there will often

be present minerals in small and varying quantities, which it will

be neither convenient nor desirable to include in the compound

name of the rock, but which should be regarded, as they com-

monly are, as accessory minerals. There may be little philo-

sophical basis for this distinction, since the rock is at best but an

ageregate, and is what it is by virtue of the total aggregation, and

not by virtue of any definite composition, as in the case of a

mineral or chemical compound. Nevertheless, these minor min-

eral constituents do not, in the main, represent any distinctive

condition in the formation of the rock, but rather some of those

accessory circumstances common to a wide range of rock-forma-

tions. They are, therefore, geologically incidental, rather than

essential, conditions, and their products may, therefore, be omitted

from the compound name and classed as accessory minerals, and

as such receive attention in exhaustive descriptions, without

burdening the more general discussions. It will of course be

within the discretion of each writer, in the case of a given rock,

to decide what are its essential and what its trivial constituents.

In this system no uniform terminal syllable is proposed. It may

be doubted whether lithologists will take kizdly to this innovation,

since it is at variance with the prevalent custom of terminating

rock names with an 7te or an ye, after the fashion of mineralogical

terms. A grave objection to the usage, however, arises out of the

very fact of this imitation, since it implies, in the rock-aggrega-

tion, something of the same definiteness of constitution that the

mineral possesses; and this, I believe it is universally conceded,

Lithological Nomenclature. 248

is a false and mischievous idea. It seems to the writer, therefore,

best that the name should imitate the complex aggregation of the

rock which it designates, rather than the individualized character

of a mineral to which it has only the semblance, not the sub-

stance, of a true likeness. The first, therefore, of the following

series of proposéd names will consist of a bare aggregation of ab-

breviations of the names of the mineral constituents of the given

rocks, in the order of their relative importance, thus both repre-

senting and defining the rock without pretension to individualiza-

tion. The oddness of the names may at first be mistaken for

uncouthness, which will indeed be justly chargeable in some

cases, but the quaint elegance of other instances will offer some,

if not full, compensation. The uniformity — not to say monot-

ony — given by the fashionable suffix will be Jost, but a vivacious

variety will be gained.

An alternative series, however, is proposed, more in harmony

with the present habit, both in respect to uniformity of termination,

and the order of arrangement of the constituents, which is that

of the inverse order of importance, the most abundant mineral

being last and receiving the termination. The suggestion of

Prof. Dana in respect to a distinctive orthography is here adopted.

The application of the system may be illustrated by the

familiar rock granite. Its composition is generally stated as

quartz, feldspar and mica. Assuming, for the moment, that no

more precise statement is desired, and that the relative amounts

of the ingredients are in the order given, its name under the first

form of the proposed system will be qua-fel-mi (quafelmi). If,

however, as is very frequently the case, feldspar is the leading in-

gredient, and quartz second in order of importance, the name will

be fel-qua-mi (felquami), Should mica stand second in impor-

tance, the formula would be fel-mi-qua (félmiqua , and so on for

other variations. In this instance, mica rarely assumes the lead-

ing place without removing the rock from the present category of

granites. But under the proposed system the nomenclature will

strictly adhere to the mineralogical constitution and the compound

terms mi-fel qua (mi-felqua), and miqua-fel (miquafel), will rep-

resent the preponderance of micain this mineral aggregation, and

the structure will be represented by an appropriate adjective, as

O44 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

foliated mifelqua, or schistose miquafel, or miquafel schist, or

otherwise, as the case may be. |

But the mere indication that the granite is compossd of quartz,

feldsparand mica, may be quite too genera! for precise discussions,

since it does not indicate which feldspar, nor which mica, nor

whether more than one of either or of both is present. The

more precise of the text-book definitions of granite rarely go-

beyond the statement that it is composed of quartz, orthoclase

and mica. If this is the degree of precision chosen to be asserted

the new terms will be, qu’orth-mi (quorthmi), ortho-qua-mi (orthéq-

uami), mic-ortho qua (mic rthoqua), qua-mic-orth (quamicorth),

ortho-mi-qua (orthomiqua), or mi-qu’orth (miquorth), according

as the relative proportions may be. But the mica, instead of

being common muscovite, which would doubtless be understood

by the general term, may be biotite. In this case the names will

be qu’ortho-bio (quérthobio), ortho-qua-bio (orthoqudbio), bi-ortho-

- qua (bidrthoqua), and so on, according to the relative proportions.

By modifications of the abbreviations which will not destroy

their distinctive, representative character, difficult vocal combina-

tions may, for the most part, be avoided, and euphonious terms

secured. The system, it will be observed, is quite analogous to

that adopted by chemists to meet the complexities of carbon com-

pounds, but will rarely need to approach it in cumbersome

combinations.

Under the alternative system proposed, similar combinations

will result, but the order will be reversed, and the termination

yte added to the leading constituent. When the usual order of

naming the constituents of granite,— auartz, feldspar and mica —

represents the relative abundance of the constituents, the name

will be mi-fel-quartzyte (mifelquartzyte). This extension of the

use of the the term quartzyte appears not unjustifiable when it

is considered that, in addition to the preponderance of free quartz,

silica forms a large constituent of the remaining ingredients; and

that there is a not uncommon class of rocks, intermediate between

the old_classes quartzyte and granite, to which such a term would

be happily applicable. But among the granites feldspar is often

the leading‘constituent. The name will then be mi-qua-felsparyte

(micafelsparyte). The more precise names will be mic-ortho-

Lithological Nomenclature. 245

quartzyte), mi-qu’orthoclastyte (miquorthoclastyte\, qu’ortho-mi-

eatyte (quorthomicatyte), qua-mic-orthoclastyte (quamicorthoclas-

tyte), ortho-mi-quartzyte (orthomiquartzyte), ortho-qua-micaty te

(orthoquamicatyte), biortho-quartzyte (biorthoquartzyte), bio-

quorthoclastyte (bioquorthoclastyte), qu’ortho-biotyte (quortho-

biotyte), qu’ortho-muscovyte (quorth»muscovyte), ete.

~The foregoing, perhaps, sufficiently illustrate the method of the

system, its extreme flexibility, and consequent adaptiveness to the

variations of rock combinations, the self-definitiveness of the terms,

and their monemonic advantages with students, as well as, on the

other hand, something of the cumbersome complexity and quaint-

ness which will sometimes arise where exact momenclature is

attempted. In the following lists no attempt is made to exhibit

the complete variation under the several rocks, but simply to give

leading names under the two systems, assuming, usually, that the

common order of naming the ingredients is that of their relative

abundance. The verbal combinations that would arise with other

proportions can readily be constructed.

Class V.

Basis of Classification — Mineral Composition.

—

PRESENT NAMES. First Prorosep Form. | SECOND PROPOSED Form.

Limestone..........

Iaimiestone} Or. «<<. .....| Calcityte.

IDol@mnite.6 eosbeaos MOOWMNNIE oonsoc-daqeace Dolomyte.

amtZtel are. 214 0's Quartzite.. ... de sadeour Quartzyte.

GirAniite) ee wc. eis Mowiiellranil) Oho eacaccsodoc | Mi-fel.quar'zyte, or.

iM eraltavataisyoisvehcrescucia tis so) QUOI scoscacsoonece | Mic-ortho quartzyte.

ood D0Cb Ob Da0000 ..--| Ortho qua-mi............| Mi-qn’orthoclastyte.

aE eRe 6 HO ROE Mone Q@uortho-bio............| Bi-ortho-quarizyite:

gobbo05 GounadG sasco || QW? OHINOSINING ao cccdsqa58 Musc-ortho-quartzyte.

poObKeb OSD Sanaoooe be Ortho-qua-muse, etc...... Musc-qu’orthoclastyte,

! ete.

Granulite........ gal) INEGI, OR od0s0| sopconoe | Qua-felsparyte, or

A Saar eee ssoscoos| QUAM cegeadpecencecoaos| HEL Gmentinamie,

GiGi csc cedduacne Foliated fel-qua-mi....... Foliated mi-qua-felsparyte.

cdo SPU cED OEMS UMROOE Foliated fel-mi-qua.......) Foliated qua-mi-felsraryte. :

Saat at HereVese mietaistspatate cas Foliated qua fel mi...... Foliated mi-fel-quartzyte.

Foliated qua-mi-iel, etc...

Schistose mi-fel-qua, or ..

Schistose miqua-tel

Schistose Hydro-mi-qua-

fel, etc

Foliated {e!-mi quartzyte,

etc.

Schistose qua-fel-micatyte.

Schistose fel-qua-micatyte.

Schistose fel-qua-hydromi-

catyte.

LEROWONNG caonc aneos Qu’-orth-michlor.......... Chlor-mic-ortho.quartzyte.

NANTES coo G06 OMINOI0OI@ > cosooooonds .-.| Bi-orthoclastyte.

(Gieise neste Aodoae Granular.qui-mi......... | Granular mi-quartzyte.

save ar tte aioe SEE MME Sltme sy aayerasisicciyes cers! Melsy te:

246

”

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

Class V. Basis of Class*fication — Mineral Composition — con.

PRESENT NAME.

Quartz-felsite

Leucitite

Kinzigite

Miascite..... S cejetoks

Ditroite

Syenite.

eee ore ees one ceo oe ee

ee cee cece e &

wot ees oes eerste eeeee e

Syenite Gneiss.....

Hornblende Schist..

NIN PON TOWNIGS So ocooe

Actinolite

Unakite

Foyaite

eee ecaoce eee

nilelaleleiniicleleiete's

e@seoeee ce ~ one oe meee ee

eseeceocsrssear eo eet ee

e@e2eece eee ese ee ee eto ee

oeeeceetcecee ese oes eo:

OOTSite kere rectectats

Euphotide...... doce

Augitic. andesite .

Norite

Hypersthenite

MOVERS. ssh eoes

eee coco cees

ecnee

Eucrite

Amphigenite

Nephelinite

IDGUOHMIE Ss c56 00 00n60e

Hpidosite «0... ..6-

ID WUK EM co Goo oDGDOs

Eeiiemitanartersyeite srelteter-

Ophiolite ...

sere eee ae ee

eeeoe

First Proprosep Form.

I GNSTE Qt air aiemy tesetericiarels eke

Leucitite .......... Skorsaiere

Roane age cee

Micro-nephe-soda-bio ...

Micro nephe-sodal.......

OMVALOM, Olt sooond Sideat

Orth-amph

Orthorn-qua, or......

Orthsam'phieqiulae rere

Schistose Orth-’orn ..

Schistose Hornblendite .

Amphibolite

Actinolite Sri

Ortho-qu’-epido..........

Ortho-neph-’orn

Alb-(h)orn, or

HMormsahb 22ers

IDBaeKoHON\ONe ao gbdccooKc

Olig-(h)orn, or

OPNOMNE oocacooococosas

Anorth-’orn, or .

Horn-anorth

(Amphi-lab)

(Atmip heanoynth)) escy-ecree

Alb-(h)orn-qua

Horn.albi-qua

Obicz(h) onn- quate ee

Horn-oligo-qua

INTOKOMUES Oo oqoddocdnac

Andehorn ...

ANMGIERINOMIN-G(WE5 Go gocanb.

ANNOYS OND, go5cb000 o0Kae

eececes-ceccceee

eo ersceece ee

eoeneceeeos

ecoeoe sees

IN NOCANIVES Ge cooootoocDEde

| Labra-pyr sacgoo0 bas sooc

Tabr-yperth = =...

Labrad-aug, or..........

Haibr= aug. Soe. Wiaweeteetss

Labrad-aug, oOr...........

Labr’ aug

ANTONE S Song sogasods

Augi-leuc

ENVISION Go Gaonac0oc0d.

Horn-garni-smar.........

IDOICWFEMEA, 6 asconccco0 506

Chryso.dial-garn........

(CHGS: Ss «ele create Ei eisi

Serpe- -cale

Serpe-dol, or..... :

Serpe-mag....

eecrereesesesoce

SECOND PRorPpOsED FORM.

Qua-felsyte.

Leucityte.

Oligo-biotyte.

Garn-oligo-bioty te.

Bio-soda-nephe-inicroclin-

yte. ;

Soda-nephe-microclinyte.

Horn-orthoclastyte, or

Amph-orthoclastyte.

Qu-’orn-orthoclastyte, or

Qu-amph-orthoclastyte.

Schistose Horn-orthoclas-

tyke: :

Schistose Hornblendyte.

Amphibolyte.

Actinolyte.

Epido-qu’-orthoclastyte.

Horn-’eph-orthoclastyte.

Horn.albyte, or

Alb-hornblendyte.

Horn-Jabradoryte.

Horn. oligoclastyte, or

Olig-(b)ornblendyte.

Horn-anorthyte, or

Avorth-’ornblendyte.

(Lab-amphibolyte).

(Anorth-amphibolyte)

Qw orn albyte.

Qu’-alb-hornblendyte.

Qu’orn-oligoclastyte.

Qu’-olig-hornblendyte.

Andesyte.

Horn-andesyte.

Qu’-orn.andesy te.

Horn-avorthyte.

Smara-sausuryte.

Dialli-sausury te.

Dial-labradoryte.

Labro-diallagyte.

Augi-andesyte.

Pyro-labradoryte.

Hyperth-labradoryte.

Aug blab e

Augi-anorthyte.

Leuci-augyte.

Neph-augyte.

Smara.garni hornblendyte.

Qu’-epidotyte.

Garne-diallo-chrysolyte.

Augi-chrysolyte.

Calc.serpentyte.

Dolo-serpentyte, or

Magne-serpentyte.

Lithological Nomenclature. 247.

In pronunciation, the accent should be placed upon such sylla-

bles as will best retain the original sounds of the abbreviations,

so far as convenience of utterance will permit.

Since a gradual transition, advantageous at all stages, is to be

preferred to a sudden revolution, it is suggested that the new

terms may be introduced in lithological discussions in parenthesis

after the usual names. The new terms will thereby not merely

serve as definitions of the old as used, but as succinct statements

of the composition of the special rocks described, which is often

but vaguely indicated by the common names. This will often

permit a shortening of descriptions, and will certainly foster pre-

cision of observation and statement, while (if a brief explanation

of the system and a list of abbreviations are given until they

become well known) it will greatly serve the convenience of

students, semi-scientific readers, and not a few geologists who may

not be specialists in lithology and freshly familiar with its

terms. ‘The system would thus have opportunity to perfect itself

while growing into general use.

248 Wrosconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts,and Letters.

WATERS ea ea Ve

(Menobranchus lateraizs say.)

By P. R. Hoy, M. D.

DESCRIPTION.

Entire length of large female 14 inches. Head 2 inches long

and 13 broad. Body, including head, to vent, 10 inches. Tail 4.

inches to vent; breadth of tail, 1# The male smaller, from 10

to 11 inches in length. Head large, flattened above. Snout

truncated. Hyes small, placed far apart. Nostrils lateral, near

the margin of the upper lip. Two rows of smali teeth in the —

upper, and one single row in the lower jaw. Mouth large. Lips

fleshy. Tongue broad, entire, free at the point. Neck con-

tracted and provided with a deep cutaneous fold at the throat.

Three rows of external piumose gills on each side, they are

placed on the posterior margin of a corresponding fleshy prolon-

gation, and supported by three branchial arches between which

there are two gill openings into the mouth somewhat fish like.

Body elongated and stout, covered by a soft skin, permeated by

many pores. ‘T'ail broad, flattened, emarginated eel-like Feet

four, all have four toes each without nails, vent a longitudinal

fissure. Color light brown, with numerous dark spots and

blotches, beneath lighter, with fewer and smaller spots. Heart

two-chambered. Lungs rudimentary, not functional. Eggs large

and much like those of fish. This species of menobrauch inhab-

its large rivers and lakes in the northern states, especially numer-

ous in Lake Michigan. They feed on small fish, crustaceans aad

molusks. They frequently commit depredations on the spawning

beds of fish, and thus doing considerable damage.

They inhabit rather deep water with stony bottom, over which

they crawl in search of prey. They seldom, or never rise to the

surface. ‘They swim with considerable velocity, however, when

occasion requires. They take the baited hook, and dire is the

consternation uf the boy who hooks the fish with legs. I have

little doubt that the flesh is well flavored and nutritious; certainly

it is true that when a cat once gets a taste of the flesh of the

water puppy it is well nigh crazy to repeat the experiment In

Water Puppy. 249

nature the menobranchus occupy nearly the lowest piace among

Amphibians, which class stands between fish and reptiles. Physi-

ologically they are fish having legs in place of fins, if such a

monstrosity could be admitted in jish aristocracy! They cannot

live out of water as long as some other fish, for the reason that

the gills are exposed and dry more readily in consequence. If.

the body is kept moist life is sustained for a greater length of

time, proving that aeration is, to a slight degree, carried on

through the skin.

Tt is an interesting fact that the early tadpole stage of salaman-

ders resemble the adult menobrach. Ino early life the Amblis-

toma lurida —the life history of which I havecarefully studied —

is strictly aquatic, has a tricamerate heart and rudimentary lungs.

However, when the legs and feet are being developed the gills.

begin to wither and the lungs to assume functional duty, imper-

fect as yet though it may be. The second auricle to the heart is

now being developed in this transition stage. In this condition

the young salamander has been considered a privileged animal —

that while in water branchial respiration was sufficient, and again,

when on land pulmonary respiration was all sufficient — a per-

fectly amphibious animal. But we may withhold our admiration

of this privileged condition, for in fact it cannot live in, or out,

of water, the gills being partly absorbed, while the yet imper-

fectly developed lungs render aerial respiration quite imperfect.

So the poor animal has to come to the surface for a mouthful of

air and plunge back into the water in order thus to secure the full

benefit of the imperfect gills; so they have to play at shuttlecock

from one element to the other, not being able to live in either ele-

ment alone. I am persuaded that the central organ of the circu-

lation (the heart) indicates the mode of respiration, as no air-

breathing vertebrate has less than three chambers in the heart,

and no aquatic vertebrate has more than a two-chambered heart.

Now as the menobranch cannot live out of water — is strictly

-aquatic—has only branchial respiration —reason sufficient to

prove that they are provided with a bicamerate heart. On dis-

section we found the two-chambered heart, as anticipated. In

studying the salalemanon I found when a leg was amputated it

250. Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

would be reproduced in precisely the same manner—toes ap-

peared in like order, as in the original development. But if a

branch of the gill was removed it was not reproduced, for the

reason, it would seem, that the gills were only a temporary organ,

only to serve the animal during its embrionic state, while if the

feet were to serve the animal through the adult state, their repro-

duction became a necessity. But, we anticipate, when we clip off

a portion of the gills of the menobranch, those portions ampu-

tated, that portion was reproduced promptly, so th>t in three

weeks the gills were again perfect. The gills being essential to

adult life, they were restored. The water puppy is a most beauti-

ful object, as it appears in its favorite surroundings, with the long

scarlet plumose gills, continually waving backwards and for-

wards. The behavior of the menobranch wher confined in an

insufficient quantity of water is interesting. As the oxygen be-

comes exhausted, the animal rises to the surface, opens the mouth

and takes in a portion of air, bubbling it out through the gill

openings, thus bringing a portion of air in contact with the gills,

or rather by this movement the water is aerated, near the surface,

precisely as do fish in similar circumstances. I have frequently

seen puddles of water, where the mud fish, melanura limi,

abounded, entirely covered with small bubbles formed by these

hardy fish in their partially successful efforts to obtain a sufficient

amount of oxygen.

The Pipestone of Devil's Lake. 251

THE PIPESTONE OF DEVIL'S LAKE.

(Read before the Wisconsin Academy of Sc‘ences, Arts, and Letters, February 14, 1877.)

By E. E. Woopman, BaragBoo.

A rock found in the vicinity of Devil’s Lake has not, so far as

I am aware, been properly classified. The local and popular

name for it is soapstone, derived, doubtless, from several qualities

which it possesses in common with steatite, and especially the

greasy feel of that mineral. From the presence of the elements

of soapstone it is talcose, but the primary object of the present

paper is to identify it as an argillite of the variety called pipestone.

Two specimens are herewith presented. The red one is from

the widely known quarry in south-western Minnesota, the other

from the neighborhood of Devil’s Lake, Sauk county, Wisconsin.

On a superficial examination they will be found to possess several

properties in common. In their feel, hardnggs, susceptibility to

polish, earthy odor when moistened, freedom a. crit, ia most of

their obvious properties except color, they agree. Also their be-

havior before the blow-pipe is the same, both being infusible

without a flux, but with borax yielding a green glass. In these

characteristics they answer to the description which Nicollet

({Itinery 1842, Senate Document No. 237) gives of the red pipe-

sione of Minnesota, as quarried under his personal direction and

observation: “Compact; structure slaty; reseiving a dull polish;

having a red streak; color blood red, with dots of a fainter shade

of the same color; fracture rough ; sectile; feel somewhat greasy ;

hardness, uot yielding to the nail; not scratched by selenite, but

easily by calcareous spar; specific gravity 2.90. The acids have

no action upon it; before the blow pipe it is infusible per se, but

with borax gives a green glass.”

I am indebted to Prof. W. W. Daniells, of this Academy, for a

qualitative analysis of these specimens which completes the evi-

dence of their identity. He finds the principal component of

each to be silicate of alumina. This is combined with small

percentages of lime, magnesia and oxide of iron, the last being a

larger constituent of the red than of the gray specimen, as might

be inferred from its color. The specific gravity of the red speci-

252 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

men is by his determination 2.752; and of the gray one, 2.829.

The agreement in this regard also is quite close, though perhaps

accidental; for Nicollet’s determination of 2.90 for the red variety

shows that specimens from the same quarry may vary considera-

bly in this particular; and so, likewise, they do in color. The

stone from the Minnesota quarry is not uniformly of the blood-

red color on which the species Cudlinite is founded, but often is

mottled with lighter shades of red, running into yellow; while

that from Devil’s Lake, as thus far discovered, is all variegated,

gray, black, yellow and red being intermingled in the same speci-

men, producing the veined appearance of some marbles. One

part of the gray specimen here submitted gives a red streak

undistinguishable from that of the red specimen, and I have seen

specimens from Devil’s Lake in which the dark color greatly pre-

dominated, though such examples are as yet rare. This diversity

in weight and color indicates that a quantitative analysis of speci-

mens from differenf$ources would be scarcely more valuable, as

a means of identification, than a qualitativeone. I however take

from Silliman’s Journal, 1839, the only analysis to which I have

access, that of the Minnesota pipestone, by Dr. Jackson of Boston:

Grains.

Wialerirealsiceaelels, ceurero siento o cliieiehs Mace nieces coats «ee eae eee 8.4

SUNCS wep cbaceiniee eae eei sieve cyaihatis eles ye cate ae araveh oi Rayer cee keneee taoteee svetehenee Pepa 2koae

SANT UMA INA yates se cs ayes sists sae (oe aise vecemotanere fare lolatore iltetelsreteds jetehedterevercte sioniaieceienetene 28.2

BUYS I ene eBIa Toco Hoe Or ood & oO aUoie GOCOOU too ocioo Gd os Go oc 8: 6.0

Peroxwiron che ees RE SOC CoE Crema OG oO iaigieee 5.0

Ox. Mano amese sdiaeicsicit iene sichenejetsiasese 'siereio ce wimlevelussseroletetslouerere sere ei ereme tates 0.6

Carts Tite ooo ie aves uals crstavelbus eo ecocetenen we lol ohne Sieg isle sexes ohtrsl abe eteke eG eee 2.6

MEOSSH( PLOW ably: Mla SWS ah) jereletoieis sn) <tonjale icheverstanerete olor ekeetetelsye ole iete tare ene 1.0

100

The carbonate of lime is not an essential ingredient, but is

mixed in fine particles.

It will be noticed that this formula agrees, in the general way,

with the qualitative results by Prof. Daniells.

I was led to conjecture the true character.of this rock from an

examination, made in 1869, of the quartz'te of the falls of the

Big Sioux, in Dakota Territory, where the town of Sioux Falls

has since been built. That outcrop is reported to be the same

—

The Pipestone of Devil's Lake. 258

with the formation containing the pipestone of Minnesota, only

‘forty miles distant, and is identical in its aspects with the quartz-

ite of Devil’s Lake. It has the same color, hardness, completeness

of metamorphism, ripple marks, and tendency to degrade in cubi-

cal forms; the last a notable feature of the rock at Devil’s Lake

and equally characteristic of the quartzite in which the Catlinite

is found, as it is described by Nicollet. These localities have not

only the quartzite apparently identical, but also the pipestone. I

found a mottied, yellow and red pipestone cropping out at the Big

Sioux, associated with the quartzite. A fourth location of the

pipestone, noted by Nicollet and later by Owen, is at the head

waters of the Cedar, a tributary of the Chippewa, on Sec. 27, T.

30 N., R. 10 W., of the public survey, as I am informed by the

owner of the land, Mr. H. C. Putnam of Hau Claire. Here, too,

it is associated with quartzite.

The concurrence of these facts suggested to me the importance

of identifying the taleose beds of Devil’s Lake with the pipestone

of the other localities. Pipestone isa rare rock. Itsappearance in

these widely separated centers, with like associations, I take to

indicate a common age and origin for the containing quartzites,

respecting which there has been much discussion and still exists

a diversity of views. It would seem to have been satisfactorily

determined by Prof. Irving that the quartzite of Devil’s Lake is

older than the Potsdam sandstone. The junction of the quartzite

with the inferior formation has not been discovered in any of the

localities herein mentioned. That evidence would be conclusive

of the question in the particular case. While awaiting it, some

authorities refer the Minnesota and Dakota formation to the Pots-

dam and others to the Huronian period. My thought is, that

whatever the age of one of these formations, all are referable to

the same epoch; that they are allied by the pipestone; and that

this connecting link establishes’ the probability that these rocks

are the result of the same cause or set of conditions, operating in

that dawn of the continent’s history when literally the dry land

first appeared.

In the vicinity of Devil’slake the pipestone is found in but

few places, and the exposure is nowhere extensive. It conforms

258 Wrsconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

to the Minnesota and Dakota outcrops in the thinness of the beds.

The stratum from which the specimen herewith submitted was

taken is perhaps eight inches thick, intercalated between heavy

layers of quartzite, and was uncovered in the course of excavating

a railroad borrow-pit. As quarried it is quite brittle, so that large

pieces are obtained with difficulty. It hardens considerably as

the moisture dries out. If an exposure should be discovered in

which the stone was cheaply accessible over a considerable area,

it would possess a commercial value for the ornamental uses

which will readily suggest themselves to one who examines a

dressed specimen. The stone has been somewhat used as a mate-

rial for tobacco pipes by present residents of the locality, but no

systematic effort to utilize it has been made, for the reasons indi-

cated. Shortly before I was at Sioux Falls, then Fort Dakota,

some white men had poached upon the Minnesota pipestone

reservation to their considerable protit, it was said. They set up

turning lathes at the Fort, and, transporting supplies of the red

stone from the quarry with teams, applied machinery to the man-

ufacture of the calumet, which they modeled upon the Indian

hand-made article. They shipped the finished product to some

military post on the upper Missouri by a supply steamer, and

there bartered it with the red men for pelts and skins, to the great

advantage of both parties possibly, and of the whites probably,

if not certainly.

Extinct Wild Animals in Wisconsin.

bod

JHE LARGER WILD ANIMALS THAT HAVE BECOME

EXTINCT IN WISCONSIN,

(Read at the Racine meeting.)

By Dr. P. R. Hoy.

A record of the date and order in which native animals become

extinct within the bounds of any country is of preseat interest,

and in the future may be perused with redoubled satisfaction.

Fifty years ago the territory now included in the state of Wis-

consin was nearly in its primitive condition. Then many of the

larger wild animals were abundant. Now all has changed; the

ax and plow, gun and dog, railway and telegraph, have com-

pletely metamorphosed the face of nature. Not a few of the

large quadrupeds and birds have been exterminated or have hid

themselves away in the wilderness of northern Wisconsin.

There was a time, away back in the dim past, when the mas-

todon, ox, elephant, tapir, peccary, and musk-ox roamed over the

ancient prairies of Wisconsin, but now only their bones, from

time to time, are exhumed and thus exposed to the wondering

gaze of the ignorant many and the trained eye of the wiser few.

We shall at this time, however, confine our attention to the his-

toric period.

The antelope, Antlocarpa Americana, now found only on the

western plains, did, two hundred years ago, inhabit Wisconsin as

far east as Like Michigan. In October, 1679, Father Hennepin,

with La Salle and party, in four canoes, coasted along the western

shore of Lake Michigan. In Hennepin’s narrative he says: “The

oldest of them” [the Indians] ‘‘came to us the next morning, with

their calumets of peace, and brought some wild goats.” This was

at or near Milwaukee. ‘ Being in sore distress, we saw upon the

coast a great many ravens and eagles, from whence we conjectured

there was some prey, and having landed on that spot we found

above the half of a fat wild goat which the wolves had strangled.

This provision was very acceptable to us, and the rudest of our

men could not but praise the Divine Providence which took so

particular care of them.” This was, undoubtedly, near Racine. “On

the 16th” [October 16, 1679] “we met with abundance of game;

256 Whisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

a savage we had with us killed several stags and wild goats, and —

our men a great many turkey, very fat and big.” This last point

was between Kenosha and Racine. Jennepin’s goats were with-

out doubt antelopes. Father Joliet, a little earlier, mentions that

‘‘on the Wisconsin there are plenty of turkey cocks, parrots,

quails, wild oxen, stags and wild goats.” All species of the deer

family were called stags by the early travelers. Schoolcraft men-

tions antelopes as occurring in the Northwestern Territory, and as

late as 1850. Antelopes were not uncommon in southern Minne-

sota, only forty miles west of the Mississippi river. It is evident,

then, that antelopes have retired quite leisurely.

When the last buffalo, Bos. Americana, crossed the Mississippi

is not precisely known. Governor Dodge told me that buffalo

were killed on the Wisconsin side of the St. Croix river the next

year after the close of the Blackhawk war, which would be 1833.

So Wisconsin had the last buffaloes east of the Mississippi river.

The Woodland Caribon, Rangifer Caribou, were probably never

numerous within the limits of the state. A few, however, were

seen near La Point in 1840; none since. .

Elk, Cervus Cunadensis, were on Hay river in 1863, and I have

but little doubt that a few still linger with us. The next to fol-

low the buffalo, antelope and reindeer.

Moose, Alce Americanus, continue to inhabit the northern part’

of the state, where they still range in spite of persecution. A

fine cow moose was shot near the line of the Wisconsin Central

Railway in December, 1877.

A few panthers, Melis Concolor, are yet with us; a straggler is

occasionally seen. Benjamin Bones of Racine shot one on the

head-waters of Black river, December, 1863.

Wolverines, Gulo luscus, are occasionally taken in the timber;

one was taken in La Crosse county in 1870.

Of beaver, Castor Canudensis, a few still continue to inhabit

some of the small lakes situated in Lincoln and adjacent counties.

The badger, Zaxidea Americana, is now nearly extinct. in Wis-

consin. -In a few years the only badger found in the state will be

the one on the coat of arms.

The opossum, Didelphis Virginiana, were not uncommon in

_ se:

Katinct Wild Animals in Wisconsin. MBS

Racine and Walworth counties as late as 1848. They have been

caught as far north as Waukesha, and one near Madison in 1872,

since which time I have not heard of any being taken. I am told

that a few are still found in Grant county. They will soon be

exterminated, no doubt. The last wild turkeys, Meleagris Gal-

lopavo, in the eastern part of the state, was in the fall of 1846, at

which time afew were discovered near Racine. They were hunted

with such vigor that the entire number were shot, ‘‘ The last of

the Mohicans.” I am told, by Dr. EH. B. Wolcott, that turkeys

were abundant in Wisconsin previous to the hard winter of 1842-3,

when snow was yet two feet deep in March, with a firm crust, so

that the turkeys could not get to the ground; they hence became

so poor and weak that they could not fly and so were an easy

prey for the wolves, wildcats, foxes and minks. The Doctor fur-

ther stated that he saw but one single turkey the next winter, and

none since. One was shot in Grant county in the fall of 1872.

Possibly there are a few yet to be found in this large southwestern

county; if not, then wild turkeys are exterminated in the state of

Wisconsin.

258 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, antl Letters.

OBSERVATIONS ON THE RECENT GLACIAL DRIFT

ORD Einav S:

By. T. C. CHAMBERLIN, A. M., Pu, D., State GEOLOGIST.

The drift formation of our state forms an important feature —

of its geology, and, owing to some peculiarities of its develop-

ment, perhaps more than ordinary interest attaches to it. 1

therefore zealously embraced the opportunity which a visit to

Switzerland afforded of observing the drift deposits formed by the

glaciers of the Alps.

Observations were made upon the deposits of the Bossons, Bois

or Mer de Glace, Findelin, Gorner, Viesch, Aletsch, Rhone, Unter

Aar, and the upper and lower Grindewald glaciers, and, casually,

as many more.

It was my endeavor to use the limited time at my command

to as great an advantage as possible by confining my attention to

those features which are most analogous toour drift; the more so,

because it is most difficult to gather exact and definite descriptions

of this phase of glacial phenomena from most accessible writings

on the subject, and naturally enough so, because the glaciers

themselves and their surface moraines present so much more con-

spicuous and absorbing objects of interest.

My observations will, therefore, have value, if they have value

at all, not because of their fullness and completeness, for they do

not approach to that, but because they were made from this

standpoint, and because they have been brought to the standard

of the same mental meter with our own deposits; and whether

that meter be standard or otherwise, it is hoped that, with some

corrections for mental temperature, it has measured alike in both

cases.

It is essential, at the outset, to clearly discriminate between the

products that arise under those conditions which are peculiar to

Alpine situations and those that are more specifically due to glacial

agency without regard to special local circumstances; and hence

a few explanatory words, antecedent to the observations them-

selves, may be appropriate.

Observations on the Recent Glacial Drift of the Alps. 259

In the majority of cases, Alpine glaciers occupy narrow steep

valleys which afford them little opportunity to deploy as they un-

doubtedly would in more open ground, where they might present

phenomena analogous to those of continental or arctic glaciers;

but in some cases, they terminate, or have recently done so, in

broader and less sloping portions of their channels, and thus

furnish some very valuable hints as to the probable action of

broad glaciers on less sloping floors.

Alpine glaciers derive the material of their deposits from two

general sources, and their debris is correspondingly divided into

two general classes, 1st, that which falls upon them from above,

and 2d, that which they abrade from the rocks over which, or

against which they move. The first class is borne passively on the

ice stream, while the second is pushed or rolled along leneuth it.

The first is due to the accident of the glacier’s position, the second

is the direct result of its own action. The first class is only pres-

ent when the glacier originates among towering peaks or flows

along precipitous slopes ; the latter presumably is always present.

At the edges of the glacier the two classes often mingle, and un-

doubtedly some of the surface debris finds its way to the bottom

through crevasses and moulins, so that the material carried along

beneath the glacier is greater than it would be but for the surface

burden; but, for the purposes of our study, this is unimportant.

It is imperative, however, that we distinguish between the super-

ficial and basal debris, as the former can have little or no repre-

sentative in so plane a region as that covered by our drift, and

can therefore throw no light upon its origin. This distinction is

very easily made, for the most part, in the case of the Alpine

glaciers mentioned; for the surface material is almost wholly un-

worn and angular, while the basal portion is usually abraded and

rounded in greater or less measure.

The surface material forms in lines along the sides of the ice

stream, where it has fallen from above, constituting lateral mo-

raines; and where two streams unite, two of these lateral moraines

are brought together and form a line along the middle of the

joint stream, constituting a medial moraine.

To the rock rubbish borne along beneath the glacier, the term

ground moraine, or moraine profonde, is applied.

260 Whosconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

So far, all is clear. So long as the glacier itself is present bear-

ing lateral moraines on its sides, medial moraines on its surface

and a ground moraine at its base, there is no room for confusion.

But this detritai material at length reaches the end of the glacier

and is deposited ; and here arises something of confusion in the

deposit itself, and something of confusion of ideas respecting it, or

at least, a want of accurate and precise use of terms. The phrase

terminal moraine is used to designate accumulations formed at the

extremity of the glacier. But, setting aside the terminal deposits

arising from the dropping of the Jateral moraines, which remain

somewhat distinct, it is evident that the medial moraine will be

dropped upon the ground moraine at the foot of the glacier, and.

that this will occur under three conditions that ought to be distin-

guished. First, the foot of the glacier may be retreating, as is the

ease at present, because the melting is more active than the onward

flow of the ice. Under these circumstances, the withdrawal of

the ice leaves the medial moraines as a ridge, or line of debris,

lying on the sheet-like ground moraine, and their relations remain

essentially the same as before, save that the glacier has vanished

from between them. In this instance the terms medial and

ground moraines may still be used appropriately to designate

them.

Secondly, the foot of the glacier may be stationary, in which

case the material of the ground moraine, pushed along beneath,

will accumulate at the glaciers margin in the form of a ridge,

and the medial moraines will pile up in heaps on this. To call

this simply a terminal moraine is not to speak very discriminately ;

for, in addition to the complexity of its own formation, it is liable

to be confused with that which arises under the third condition,

viz.: that in which the foot of the glacier is advancing.

In this case the glacier is not only discharging material from its

surface and bearing it along its base, but it is plowing up that

previously deposited in its pathway.’ The result of this is the

formation of a ridge at the foot of the ice plow, as in the previous

case, but of more irregular character in respect, at once, to mate-

rial, structure, and surface configuratiou. This is a terminal

1 A portion is also overridden by the glacier.

Observations on the Recent Glacial Drift of the Alps. 261

moraine in a more significant sense than the preceding, in that it

was not simply accumulated at the foot of the glacier, but was

formed by its mechanical agency ; and in that it marks the ter-

mination of a given glacial advance.

It would appear to be much in the interest of precision of

thought and expression to confine the phrase “terminal moraine”

to accumulations produced by a glacial advance, and to employ

some other term, as peripheral moraine, for ridge-like accumula-

tions due to halts in the retreat of the glacier; while the term

‘“‘eround moraine” should include the wide-spread, sheet-like de-

posits of retreating glaciers. Our classification of morainic accu-

mulations would then stand:

I. SuPpERFICIAL MORAINES.

(a) Due to local environment and passive glacial agency.

(0) Characterized by angular material.

1. Lateral moraines.

2. Medial moraines:

Il. Basan MorRAIngEs.

(a) Independent of local environment and due to active glacial

agency.

(0) Characterized by worn material.

1. Ground moraines (sheet-like).

2. Peripheral moraines.

3. Terminal moraines.

Besides the glacial accumulations, we have constantly to deal

with the associated torrential and other aqueous deposits formed

by the abundant glacial waters, but these may usually be distin-

euished by structural characters.

The following observations relate to individual features of drift

phenomena, and will be found more or less disconnected, and the

paragraphs are arranged without much reference to logical sequence

of thought:

1. The Rhone glacier surpasses all others visited in its instruct-

iveness in relation to drift deposits. After a course of nearly 15

miles, it descends precipitously, like a gigantic frozen cascade,

into a valley of the Rhone, where it finds a broader area and

262 Wasconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters,

more gentle slope. Here its foot spreads out into a flat semicir-

cular form not altogether unlike an equine hoof. ;

The first point of special interest to be noticed is that the cre-

vasses in this flat portion diverge in curving lines from the axis of

the glacier toward the expanded margin. This I believe to be cor-

related with a divergent motion of the ice by which the expanded

foot was formed; and in this I find a close analogy to the diver-

gent motion of the ice of our own ancient Green Bay glacier, as

shown in my recent report. The valley of the Rhone just below

this is covered with drift, so that the striations, which it might be

presumed to have made in its recently more expanded condition,

are concealed, but at the foot of the Glacier de Bois, in the Cha-

mouni valley, a divergence in striation amounting to about 75°

was observed.

2. The Rhone glacier is now retreating at a somewhat rapid

rate. With commendable regard for the interests of science and

the profit of transient students, the successive positions occupied

by the retreating foot of the glacier, each year since 1874, have

been marked by lines of tarred bowlders and cairns. The method

and rate of retreat is thus mapped out on the face of the valley

itself. It will be sufficiently near for our purposes to say that

the average retreat since 1874, has been about fifty paces per year.

It therefore presents a fine opportunity to observe the deposition

of areceding glacier, and, as it bears but little detritus on its sur-

face, its abandoned ground moraine is well exposed for study.

However, certain portions of the plain bave been swept by glacial

floods, which have somewhat modified the deposit, and care should

be taken not to confuse the two deposits. A little close observa-

tion will show that in the portions recently abandoned by the

glacier, and that have not been washed by the issuing waters, the

bowlders freyuently bear, perched upon their tops and slopes,

sand, pebbles, and small fragments of rock. It is hence evident

that they have never been swept by even the gentlest stream, and

that no assorting or modifying action of any kind has been

brought to bear upon them since they were abandoned by the ice.

Furthermore, we may go to the foot of the glacier and see them

slowly issuing, thus crowned, directly from the ice.

Observations on the Recent Glacial Drift of the Alps. 263

The ground moraine here consists mainly of rounded and

scratched bowlders, gravel and sand, with but little clay, and only

asmall proportion of angular blocks that cannot be traced dis-

tinctly to the medial or lateral moraines. The surface contour is

slightly, though not conspicuously, ridged. The more abrupt side

of these little ridges is toward the glacier and their trend is in the

main approximately parallel to the edge of the glacier, though

sometimes notably oblique. This relationship suggested that they

might be due to annual oscillations of the glacial margin. There

is also discernable a feeble tendency of the material to arrange

itself in heaps and ridges parallel to the lines of movement of the

1¢e.

3. If we now approach the foot of the glacier, we shall find this

moranic sheet of detritus passing without notable change or inter-

ruption beneath the ice. The appearance is as though a stationary

mass of ice had formed on the surface of a bed of bowlders and

gravel and was now quietly melting away. More critical exam-

ination would, of course, show that any given particle of ice was

advancing. The edge of the glacier is thin and sloping and we

‘may walk directly up on it. The edge seems to rest lightly upon

the drift below. This last is not a mass of debris frozen together,

or imbedded in the base of the ice — although individual bowlders

are — but an independent underlying bed of bowlders, and finer

material and open interspaces. These observations of course re-

late to the immediate edge of the ice. Some of the crevasses enable

us to see a short distance fartherin, where the same condition pre-

vails. An artificial tunnel, styled an ice grotto, shows the same

through a break in the ice.

The marginal portion of the glacier rests, so far as could be

ascertained, not upon the bed rock, but upon its own basal mo-

‘raine. How thick this bottom accumulation was, I had no means

of ascertaining, but from the configuration of the valley, I should

judge it was considerable.

4. The surface contour of the ground moraine seems to some

extent to take shape beneath the glacier. At one point I observed

a diminutive hillock, about six feet high, half enclosed in the edge

of the ice, which was here nearly vertical. The appearance was

264 Wasconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

as though the ice, in its withdrawal, had half disclosed a mound

lying beneath it. This, though a mere mound, was about equal

in height to the adjacent heaps that had been left by the glacier.

5. Atother points, near the center of the valley, the ice may

be seen resting directly upon well assorted, stratified sand and

gravel, Level sheets of fine detrital matter extend without dis-

turbance of continuity or surface beneath the edge of the glacier.

The assortment and stratification of this material was apparently

accomplished by sub-glacial streams, which seem afterwards to

have found other ayenues, when the ice occupied their place,

either by settling down from above,.or advancing from behind.

The singular fact is that the stratified sands should not have been

disturbed. It is very likely true that these fragile formations

near the edge of the glacier are heated by conduction from the

warm earth surrounding, and by transmission through the com-

paratively thin ice above, and that they are thus enabled to protect

themselves from the forcible action of the ice, by melting it as

fast as, in its slow motion. it is pressed upon them.

6. If we now turn to the sides of the valley, we shall see that

up to a certain height they are mainly bare of vegetation and pre-.

sent a fresher and less weathered surface than the slopes above,

as though the glacier had recently stood at that hight. If we

glance down the valley, we shall see that the upper margin of

this surface descends curvingly, much like the contour of the

present foot of the glacier. If we descend the valley to the

point where this reaches the plain, we shall find the ground mo-

raine rising into a low, irregular ridge, which stretches in a broken

curve across the valley. The material of this ridge is essentially

the same as that of the ground moraine, save that there is notice-

ably more sand and gravel in proportion to the coarse material,

and the whole is more thoroughly rounded. ‘These remarks re-

late to the surface material. The superficial contour, however,

assumes quite a different and distinctive aspect. Although but a

diminutive ridge itself, not perhaps exceeding twenty feet in

height, its surface contour, instead of presenting a simple curving

outline, exhibits a complex series of still more diminutive ridges,

hills and hummocks, of irregular outline and arrangement, accom-

Observations on the Recent Glacial Drift of the Alps. 265

panied by correspondingly irregular depressions, some of which

are filled with water and form miniature lakelets. The irregular

outline and little islands of one of these made it almost a Lilli-

putian Minnetonka. Bowlders are abundant in all positions on

and in the ridge, as shown by the sections exposed by the out-

flowing streams, which also exhibit the confused unstratified

condition of the interior. Locally, there are small patches of

stratified material. This ridge is most abrupt on the outside, or

that away from the glacier, while on the inside it graduates, with-

out any distinct line of definition, into the bowlder sheet above

described.

This ridge presents a striking similitude to our Wisconsin Ket-

tle moraine, and I think it may be safely said to be a miniature

representative of the same phenornena.

This is a true terminal moraine, according to our definition,

formed by an advance of the Rhone glacier.

7. A few rods — perhaps 20 — below this there is another mo-

raine of like character, but of older date, as shown by the grass

and shrubs that have grown upon it, as well as by its position and

less angular contour. It is narrower and more simple in form than

the preceding, and like it, is interrupted by level passes, the chan-

nels of former streams.

About 30 rods below this is a third, still less continuous, a good

illustration of an interrupted, half destroyed moraine.

8. Between these three moraines are level gravel flats of fluvi-

atile origin, and doubtless stratified.

9. On the south side of the Rhone, the middle moraine breaks

up into an area of scattered mounds or ‘“‘ knobby arift.”

10. On that side also, at the foot of the acclivity, where the

solar action is less effective than elsewhere, a considerable mass of

ice has been left by the retreating glacier, and this is much coyv-

ered by sand, gravel and coarse detrital matter. As the ice melts,

it deposits its burden of rock-rubbish in an irregular, hummocky

fashion, somewhat resembling that of the moraine above de-

scribed, but without the ridgey characteristics of the latter. It is

mainly interesting as illustrating the form of deposition of a su-

perficial glacial accumulation where the ice lets it down by melt-

266 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Aris,and Letters.

ing from beneath, instead of casting it over its extremity in the

usual method.

11. The south side of the Rhone also presents a fine exhibit of

fluviatile silt, sand and gravel flats, and shows the pre-eminent

tendency of glacial streams to wander widely, back and forth,

across their valleys, when the slope is moderate, owing to the un-

usual rapidity with which they fill up their channels by the large

burden of glacial mud, sand and gravel that they carry, or roll

along their beds. They thus rapidly accumulate broad stratified

sheets. I suspect that some deposits formed in this way during

the Quaternary age have been mistaken for lacustrine formations,

owing to their breadth and extent.

12. None of the other glaciers visited terminate in a manner

equally favorable to the observations sought, but some of them

present particular features of equal interest. The terminal mo-

raines of the Grindenwald glaciers are even more instructive by

way of comparison with our drift moraines, because of the closer

proximity of the successive ridges, and greater similarity of the

material, it being a limestone bowlder clay, with some metamor-

phic erratics included, and some assorted detritus. Some of the

moraine ridges are a pronounced bowlder clay, while others are

largely composed of bowlders or gravel. On the inner moraine

of the upper Grindenwald glacier, there is much fine gravel and

sand in heaps and miniature ridges, presenting a very interesting

phenomenon. The outer range is more massive than those of the

Rhone glacier, and is very strikingly similar to the Wisconsin

Kettle moraine in its superficial expression. The corresponding

moraines of the lower Grindelwald glacier show the same features

very neatly, and those of the Bois and other glaciers display like

characteristics.

18. So far as my observations went, the nature of the rock over

which the glaciers passed was more influential in determining the

proportion of clay, sand, gravel and bowlders, than I had sup-

posed. Where the rock was mainly granitic, the amount of clay

was proportionately small, the detritus being mainly coarse sand,

gravel and bowlders. This was doubtless due to the difficulty of

reducing the hard constituents of granite to powder. Where the

Observations on the Recent Glacial Drift of the Alps. 267

glacial channel lay through schistose rocks, or limestone, there

was a notable larger proportion of clay, and some of the moraines

were a typical bowlder clay. These observations throw urex-

pected light on the drift of our state, where there is a very marked

difference between the glacial deposits of the limestone and gran-

itic districts in respect to the physical condition of the material.

14. In former times, the Alpine glaciers were greatly expanded

and stretched entirely acrozs the lake region to the foot of the

Jura mountains, on the French border. In this expanded condi-

tion, they most nearly, though still quite inadequately, represent

the nature of American Quaternary glaciers. The Juras and much

of the intermediate region are composed ot limestone strata. To

the west of Lake Neuchatel the sheet of drift extends up the

mountain slope nearly 3,000 feet above the lake surface, when it

terminates on the declivity in a rude, imperfect terrace of undu-

latory surface. T’nis, where I observed it, is composed of bowlder

clay, usually quite gravelly, and associated with gravel beds. It

was my hope to find the margin of this great moraine profonde at

some point on a comparatively level tract, where its development

would not be cramped or coerced by encompassing barriers, but

both at this point and in the vicinity of Gex, west of Geneva —

the only two points where I was able to examine it — I found it

pushed high up onthe steep side of the mountains, and could,

therefore, only conjecture what its form and structure would have

been on plains similar to those of the Mississippi valley ; indeed

we can hardly assume that its material would have remained pre-

cisely the same, since in more level regions it might have been

influenced ina greater degree by glacial waters. As it was, it

may be characterized as a gravelly bowider clay, with accom-

pavying gravel beds.

15. In the beautiful valley of Ruz, west of Neuchatel, I found

excellent exhibits of the morainic bowlder clay. If an excava-

tion seen on the east side of this valley were placed side by side

with any one of a large number that can be found in Wisconsin,

no one but a skilled lithologist or paleontologist could determine

to which locality they severally belonged, so striking is the physi-

eal similarity of the two formations. Indeed the resemblance of

268 Wresconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

the rock forming the detrital material is so ‘close that, were the

Swiss hill transplanted to certain localities in Hastern Wisconsin,

probably no geologist would ever detect the imposition, unless

fossils, of which I saw none, were found in it.

16. In company with our genial vice consul 7at Geneva, Dr. |

Delavan, I had the pleasure of visiting the celebrated Jardin, in

the Chamouni region. A four hours walk up the Jer de Glace

and over the Glacier de Taléfre brought us to an island of sub-trian-

gular outline, completely encompassed by a sheet of snow and ice;

and around which clustered an amphitheater of mountain pinnacles.

It derives its name, “The Garden,” from the fact that, although

more than nine thousand feet above the sea, and surrounded on

all sides by perpetual snow and ice, a handsome flora of grasses

and bright, beautiful, little flowers bloom on its southward sloping

side. But, putting aside this interesting phenomenon, and re-

the grand views of Mount Blane and the glaciers below inspire, I

can only, in this connection, remark upon the point of chief. geo-

logical interest to us, viz.: the likeness to our driftless area which

this glacier-girt island presents. Let me say, however, at the out-

set, that the Jardin is not a driftless area. It was formerly covered

by an ice sheet and contains erratics on its surface. But at present,

though the glacier originates much higher up the slope, it divides

and passes around the Jardin and again unites below it, leaving it,

so far as present action is concerned, a non-glaciated area, sur-

rounded on all sides by active glaciation.

Its likenezs to our driftless area, however, ceases here. It is

walled in, as is appropriate to a garden, by a steep sharp moraine,

thrust up by the ice in moving around it. On the border of our

driftless area, the glacial debris thins out very gradually and dis-

appears in an obscure margin, The Jardin differs also, in that it

appears to owe its immunity from present glacial action more to

its Own prominence than to the effects of adjacent depressions.

The driftless area of Wisconsin does not lie, like it, on the sum-

mit of a protuberance, but on its lee side. The ice of the glacial

period surmounted the Archvean heights, south of Lake Superior,

in Wisconsin and Michigan, and descended the southern slope a

Observations on the Recent Glacial Drift of the Alps. 269

distance of about one hundred miles, where it terminated on the

declivity, and its waters continued on across the driftless area,

leaving gravel terraces along their course. We must, therefore,

seek elsewhere for an adequate illustration of the essential prin-

ciples involved.

At the foot of the Viesch glacier, the ice stream divides and the

branches pass through valleys on either side of a ridge, though

the ice at the point of branching is higher than the ridge. For-

merly the branches extended much further, and probably united

below the ridge. This would be an approach to an illustration of

the phenomena in question, but, unless the ice moved over the

ridge, and terminated on its slope, it would fail of an essential

element.

The right hand branch of this glacier is antagonized by a prom-

inence, and the greater portion of the ice passes through lower

channels on either hand; and these subordinate streams approach

each other below, leaving an island, or nearly so, on the slope.

Above this island the ice terminates on the declivity. On one

side the slope is so steep that the ice breaks away and rolls to the

bottom, marring the perfection of the illustration, but not destroy-

ing its force. The ice, while not really split in twain, is so far

thinned by the combined action of the prominence and the adja-

cent depressions, as to be unable to maintain itself against the

wasting to which it is subjected. If the slope were somewhat less

precipitous the illustration would be more complete.

Near the termination of the upper Grindenwald glacier, there

has recently been a similar instance of an island ia a glacial

stream with higher ice on either side and above it. In this case,

the slope was so great that a portion of the ice above the island

became loosened and rolled down to the ice below. ‘The amount

which thus passed over was less than an equivalent of the melting

capacity of the area of the island, so that, had not the cohesion

of the ice been overcome, it would have been melted on the

upper margin of the island.

In all the foregoing instances, the areas have formerly been

glaciated, and thus differ from the Wisconsin driftless area. They

have force, however, as illustrating, in a miniature and imperfect

270 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

fashion, the fact that, not only may a glacial stream be parted and

an island be formed by a prominence projecting through the ice

and wedging it aside, or by valleys leading it around; but also

that there may be such a combination of prominence and depres-

sion as — while not entirely parting the stream — to so thin the

ice passing over the prominence, that it shall be wasted and dis- |

appear before it can join the main currents diverted on either

side; so that there shall be a non-glaciated area, not on the sum-

mit of the prominence, but on its lower slope, and these I'conceive

to be the essential phenomena and elucidation of the Wisconsin

driftless area.

SCALE FINCHES ®! NILE,

JONES THE NUMBERS ON THE OOTTIER -

LINES /NO/CATE D/ STANCE

OTHER NUMBERS (NQIGATE DEPTH

FINE LAKE

WALHE SHA Le

WL.

Temperature of Pine, Beaver and Okanchee Lakes. 273

‘TEMPERATURE OF PINH, BEAVER AND OKANCHEE

LAKES, WAUKESHA COUNTY, WISCONSIN, AT

DIFFERENT DEPTHS, EXTENDING FROM MAY TO

DECEMBER, 1879; ALSO PARTICULARS OF DEPTHS

OF PINE LAKE.

By EvizAseTH M. GirrorD and Gro..W, PECKHAM.

Pine lake is two miles long, with an average width of three-

quarters of one mile. Its mean depth, perhaps, being greater

than that of any other lake in the county. The most interesting

fact resulting from the observations is the regular decrease of tem-

perature with increase of depth down to eighty-five feet. At this

depth, from May to November, the mercury was constant at 42°

Fahrenheit. Ip the observations on the temperature of Oconomo-

woc lake by the late Dr. Lapham — Transactions, Vol. III, p. 31 —

he states, “that an attempt was made to find the temperature at

the bottom in deep water, and resulted in showing at some times

no differences, and at other times one or two degrees warmer or

cooler; though the deep water is popularly believed to be much

colder than that at the surface.” It is probable that his observa-

tions were not made with a self-registering thermometer, and in

drawing up a common thermometer from any considerable depth,

of a number of experiments we found this supposition to be cor-

rect. Our observations show a difference of 14° Fahrenheit, in

surface and bottom temperature, until the middle of October.

Prof. Nichols found that the temperature in Forest Pond, Cam-

bridge, Mass., was nearly uniform from top to bottom about the

first of November. We found a uniform temperature December

2d. Probably in a larger lake this condition would not be

reached before January. For valuable data on the temperature

of Massachnsetts waters, see papers by Prof. W. R. Nichols, in

the Massachusetts State Board of Health Reports.

27+

Wisconsin: Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

Pine LAKE, WAUKESHA CouUNTY, WISCONSIN.

These observations were made with the self-registering thermometer,

Fahrenheit scale, manufactured by Hicks, of London; checked in same cases

by Green’s U. 8. Signal Service thermometer.

TIME OF

AY.

DATE.

a| =

<q Ay

1879.

LUE aa Ls Ne atin a ae oe Oaliceverrete

INE Sy RUD Pierre rele elem aig 2

NIRA OHY S04 ded boaeab|booe 3

Jiineeess oda sesaasiclosoo 6:30

ITO Sodas calc q

YOME UUs S00 cdsoddeledoc 7

afin? Wes Se bas soancten a 7

ALO g WC RNes Saye tae clacdod 4

Augustil...... Boe tate 3

INMATE, Bibs so aoasane 10 7

PNOTE Bibs GolG Gog a6s S006 3

Septem berdeyy. pea. Ik GeiGee

September9........ LOG eter

September 16....... ys 5

September 29....... wae 3

October De aesereer oats 5

October 12......... Diipaccds

November 1....... es 4

November 5 .......]... : 4

December 2........-|.... 2

5 | Temperature of air.

TEMPERATURE OF WATER.

: cape Sa So) ei See eR) S oO

EU Peupeles jo S|

oS | | ee eee

B | 8) e | S| 6 | Sl see ees

NniBl/SB |B le l/einini{ s&s

Ayal ane ASABE elmer olloe 6 alloc SEES ead:

TRO RaCt oo CNMI Grkclloderalles oPallete eral ese

GO eee sl See ane aeeeeel lene Follawpealiics

GPA ote Serio eesti aekollo' 4.5 Bas ol es

(Ofer Inca Asean Iota ac cilg 5 si ‘ 42

GU See aleerecallles celles eee Patt res ors tee

79 |....| 75 | 60 | 49 | 46 | 44 | 48 | 42

FO | 65.1176) ee 8 Oe eee eee eee

"6 | 76 | 75 | 68 | 49 | 46 | 45 |... 4

riled Bi lovee OO alee eee >

i). We Pe nee reals Gola cvolle oc

FAA Sees a) Copeealen Cae UAE allbirae | Cesta s:s

GO ecko | serra rer cuell eroters sail GEES ale

(i y-tr | ene ees! lsesetiloaocalis coc wee) 44 [441

BB al ye 5] te oes |e etal etal yal Petrelli orale)

Ges no ye ql Gy) apy) Seb | GB lo 555) 282

59 |. $80 lead ao) AOE) 2s Sate

AGN es esellnieierelte sveusil dO leee all eterete 34

ASG rs Satallese tees ; we

AY) aoe 3 mete 39

1 Average of ten observations.

3 Average of five observations.

> Two observations.

2 Average of five observations.

4 Two observations.

6 Two observations.

Temperature of Pine, Beaver and Okanchee Lakes. 275

BEAVER LAKE, WAUKESHA Co., WISCONSIN.

# TEMPERATURE OF WATER.

TIME or | ©

Day. S i i

. |g 3 =

Date. E Sa |S (ssa (lane ft S

ae sty [os ae (eS Hheoa Wiwen Late [bs SN issued

= 4 a) ll 2S te o > o me

o i S & 3 2 ia) ° SS te a & _

A. M.| P.M. | Aa} ie = gd |}ag) 2 >! mls] a

oe eS Sy PO Ae ey eae ae ee] 2

o) =) |) oS ) = ee SEH ast iS) Se) satel IS

SBil_m |e] ea |] eae Ie BS |e | 1m |a

1879. | fo} ° ° ° fo} ° ° fo} ° ° °

MIE We enigoalee Sep ell ZESOO Hh 7) A HS Nee Ne ea eon [oben aed eel eect ere ecient escics

Maya eden st atslateiele ove 4:30 | %8 | 63 |... Erdal hae Oil tares [ies epeaceetepere

Sealvet sete eccleiusets « 4:00 | ETP Dil eevereekevers 65 i) 4) Woo cloowblaos

OKANCHEE LAKE, WAUKESHA COUNTY, WISCONSIN.

July 14.. 6:45 | eee | 79 | 80 | 80 | 80 “10 | 64 | 49 be 46 | 44.

1 Two observations.

276 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters.

A DESCRIPTION OF SOME FOSSIL TRACKS FROM

THE POTSDAM SANDSTONE.

By Pror. JAMES EH. Topp.!

1Atthe winter meeting of the Academy in 1879, a verbal description and

discussion of these tracks, illustrated by photographs, was presented by Prof.

T. C. Chamberlin, but the pressure of other work preventing the preparation

of a description for the press, the matter was placed in the hands of the

writer. The names here adopted are those then proposed. The specimens

on which the descriptions are based — in all about half a ton of slabs — are

in the cabinet of Beloit College, and were procured through the kindness of

Mr. Young and at the expense of Mr. Chamberlin.

Several months since, Rev. A. A. Youngof New Lisbon, Wis.,

called the attention of the state geologist to some very interesting

fossil tracks, that occur at two quarries located near the Lemon-

weir river. They are about four miles north of the village of

New Lisbon. The geological horizon is the upper portion of the

Potsdam. The rock upon which they are impressed is a medium-

grained, compact, hard, silicious sandstone, which splits readily

into flags, three or four inches in thickness. The conditions of

its deposition are indicated by distinct, and often oblique lamina-

tion, and by ripple marks. No animal remains have yet been

found associated with the tracks, though these are remarkably

well preserved.

1. The general appearance of the tracks is of , broad serpentine

bands crossing the stone, and sometimes so thickly as to obscure

one another, and give the appearance of an irregularly rippled

surface.

The margins of the tracks appear to have been originally un-

broken lines, and parallel. The whole surface between these

lines has evidently been in contact with the animal making the

track, and there are no signs that any part of the animal reached

beyond these lines.

2. The most conspicuous element of the track consists of a

clesely consecutive series of nearly parallel, transverse ridges,

Fossil Tracks from the Potsdam Sandstone. 200

which, moreover, are not usually straight and exactly transverse,

but most frequently V-shaped with the apex of the V pointing

forward. This form, though the prevailing one, is nevertheless

subject to the following modifications: The angle varies in the

PLATE 1—Fossin TRAcKS ON POTSDAM SANDSTONE.

.(From photograph.)

typical cases from the extreme limit of 110° to 135°. When the

V becomes distorted, this angle appears to vary further, through

larger angles, till, in various cases, it disappears, and the ridges

are straight. This occurs somewhat more commonly in the

smaller tracks.

Another frequent variation is in the relative length of the arms

of the V, and the consequent shifting of the point towards one

278 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Leiters.

side of the track. When the V remains at all regular this is

toward the convex margin when the track is curved (vid. plate 1).

The surfaces of the ripple-like ridges are usually regularly con-

vex, and this convexity is so nearly equal to the concavity of the

furrows between, that from this feature alone, it would be impos-

sible to say whether, in a particular case, you were looking upon

the track itself, or upon the cast of it, found on the upper slab.

Not infrequently the ridge is narrower than the furrow. -Some-

times the converse is true. If either slope of the ridge is more

inclined than the other, itis usually the posterior one, unless it

has been modified by longitudinal lines, when the converse may

be true. With this character may be connected the fact that from

the way in which the stone breaks in the ridges, there is addi-

tional evidence that the ridges in their formation were. pressed

and moved backward somewhat.

Not infrequently the arms of the V are not Fomad fusion

sometimes they alternate for a time, sometimes an extra arm 1s

intercalated between two V’s, which are distorted, to adapt them-

selves to the case. Such cases occur more frequently in curves,

but are not confined to them.

Sometimes the V-form of the ridge changes to a wavy line, a

low W, a regular curve, or a straight line, and that within a short

space, in the same track. |

Sometimes the transverse ridges appear to fade out, asif the

consistency was insufficient to sustain them after they were

formed.

8. The third element of the tracks are the longitudinal lines.

These are seen frequently modifying the tops of the ridges, and

forming the most reliable guide, in determining which impressions

are the tracks, and which the casts; also, in which direction the

animal moved. The track may also be sometimes distinguished

from its cast, by its transverse section being a little concave or

depressed.

These markings may be divided into three kinds.

First, those quite closely parallel with the sides of the track, as

though formed by some appendages dragged over the ridges after

they were formed. Of these, some seem to be made by rigid,

Fossil Tracks from the Potsdam Sandstone. 279

posterior points, or by the lateral edges on some kind of a caudal

shield. This appears in pl. 1, toward the left above, and in un-

figured examples. The most common ones appear as if formed by

flexible bristles dragged over the track. They are sometimes

wavy, as though the appendages swayed from side to side.

The third kind of markings is best seen near the sides of the

curves, and then only in rare instances. These cross the trans-

verse ridges more nearly at right angles and appear to have been

formed by bristles of some kind attached to whatever formed the

ridges. :

As to the dimensions of the tracks, it may be said that they

vary greatly, though all may be grouped in three sizes. The

largest are 4-43 inches wide,.with a distance of 1g—14 inches be-

tween the transverse ridges, when of the normal form. When

there is a curve, the ridges may be much closer towards the inner

side of the curve and more distant on the outer side. This size

includes the most conspicuous tracks on pl. 1, where one presents a

curved course over five feet in length; also upon pl. 2 and pl. 3,

1 below, and 2. The three kinds of finer markings are found only

in tracks of this size. The next size is 2-24 inches across, about $

inch between the ridges, and the smallest size is from 1} tol?

inches in width. All of both these sizes show the cross ridges

with the V more or less clearly marked, intercalations, and the

usual convex surfaces, with perhaps one exception, which is seen

at the bottom of pl. 1. In this one the ridges are flattened with

a slicht dip forward. This may be formed by a distinct species ;

while the others may be conceived as formed by different stages

of the same species.

These tracks closely resemble some described by Sir W. HE.

Logan, from Perth, Canada, and named by him, Climactichnites

Wilsont (vid. Geological Survey of Canada, 1863, p. 107). A

figure presenting more of the details, is found in Dana’s Manual,

p. 176. They have ‘been ascribed by different geologists to Mol-

luses, Worms, and Trilobites. These under consideration differ

from the Canada tracks, however, in lacking the marginal ridges

in all cases, except one very equivocal one. So far as we are

aware, they are also without the finer longitudinal markings.

280 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

It is possible, however, that the difference is owing mainly, if

not entirely, toa difference of the medium in which they were

found. These Wisconsin tracks, as before implied, were formed:

in loose sand, composed of rounded grains. Similar animals,

moving upon mud, would probably push up, on either side of

the track, a ridge of sufficient consistency to stand. We are not.

informed as to the character of the rock in which the Canada

tracks are found.

- For convenience for future reference, the larger tracks described,

showing occasional longitudinal and wavy markings, we would

provisionally name Climactichnites Young; and under this would

include all thesmaller ones, showing regular convex and V-shaped

transverse ridges. They may prove to have been formed by im-

mature individuals. The solitary track, pl. 1, below, with flat

and usually straight ridges, may be a variety of the same; but

these differences, with others not easily expressed, seem sufficient

reason for designating it by another name, viz.— Climactichnites:

Fostert. It should be distinctly understood that the names may

be discontinued, whenever the name of the species of animals

which formed them can be definitely and satisfactorily substi-

tuted.

This paper would doubtless be considered incomplete, did it not

give at least some conjecture concerning the character of the ani-

mals which formed these tracks. (We say animals, for the sug-

gestion of Prof. Chapman, of Toronto, that Climactichnites are

impressions of Fucoids (vid. American Journal of Science, vol.

14, p. 240), clearly cannot apply to thesé under consideration.

The longitudinal lines and variations of thé transverse ridges, ap-

pearing with such irregularity, forbid the idea.)

Hndeavoring to confine ourselves strictly to the facts, and the

most patent inferences therefrom, we conclude that, whatever the

nature of the animals and whatever the form of their anterior

ambulatory organs, those leaving the last impressions were very

perfectly flexible. This is shown in the very variable form of the

transverse ridges, as noted above.

They must have been in pairs, and each capable of motion, in-

dependent of its fellow. Thisis proved by the intercalated ridges.

fossil Tracks from the Potsdam Sandstone. . 281

Hach separate organ seems usually to have been moved back-

ward, and inward, in that way forming the V-shaped ridges.

The deepness and smoothness of the impressions may be partly

the result of similar movements of successive organs, pressing

into the same furrow. The longitudinal lines may have been

easily made, it would seem, by a rigid candal shield, furnished, in

some cases, with bristles, or slender spines.

The finer traces, nearly transverse to the ridges, may have been

produced either by the ‘“‘ recover of the paddles, or by the flowing

of the mud,” caused by their motion, or the onward movement of

the animal. The latter supposition is strengthened, by their ap-

pearing only in places, where, from the lowness of the transverse

ridges, and apparent washing of material into the depressions, the

sand appears to have been of very slight consistency. On this

supposition, the long curved track in pl. 1 passes at its sharpest

turn, over a firmer spot, but elsewhere the bottom seems to have

been much softer. So also in plate 3, 1 below, the track seems

have been formed across a series of low ripple-ridges. After all,

we must frankly admit, that of thelength, the weight, and the

morphological structure of those ancient animals, we learn nothing

decisive; and that with a scientific use of the imagination we get

little more than a glimpse of the posterior part of their ventral

surface.

282 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

A CHAPTER ON FOUNDATIONS.

By J. Naper, Ciy. Ene., Mapison, WIs.

The subject of this paper is perhaps one of the most difficult

and uncertain problems which comes within the province of the

Civil Engineer. , |

In treating on the subject of foundations, I will endeavor to

review the whole practical series, from the ordinary foundation

daily required and constructed, to such as tax the ingenuity of

man and call forth the efforts of the highest quality of genius

and talent. |

The earth’s surface, consists of all grades of solidity from the

rock, to inpalpable mud ; for this reason we have to be governed

by circumstances, and where nature fails us we must supply the

want by artifice.

lst. Beginning with the most stable, the rock, it is only neces-

sary to prepare the surface so that it may receive the intended

structure and all requirements are satisfied. Cases may, however

occur where the rock bed is of such nature that it will disintegrate

by the action of the elements, in all such it is simply necessary to

excavate beyond the influence and replace the excavation with

enduring material. Where the rock is of sufficient strength, the

superstructure may receive considerable strength against lateral

motion, as in the case of Hddystone and Bell rock lights, Hngland,

also Minot’s ledge light and others in this country, by bolting the

structure securely to the bed rock. °

2d. Next to solid rock is a bed of hard gravel; this will in

nearly all cases resist any amount of pressure that can be brought

to bear, provided that in cold climates, the substantial work is

carried to a depth beyond the influence of the frost.

8d. I shall presume to place sand next in order, to gravel, for

solidity. In sand, it is only necessary to go beyond the frost

line and to guard against lateral motion; in every other respect

it will support weight equal to rock: itself. l

A Chapter on Foundations. 283

4th. Next to sand, impervious clay may be in order of resist-

ance to pressure. This is a very common earth which yields

only to the pick, is not plastic and does not become so from effects

of moisture. A solid rock is scarcely more reliable against

pressure than this clay.

5th. We now come to the less resisting soils among which the

first are the plastic clays. These earths give good resistance when

dry but undergo a soaking process from the effects of moisture

and becoming plastic they yield to a considerable degree and

many fine buildings have unaccountably failed a few years alter

their erection, while the fact was, that their very presence con-

ducted the moisture to the bed of their foundations and became

the means of their own destruction.

6th. And last brings us to the treacherous yielding alluvial

beds among which the engineer is obliged to flounder with uncer-

tainty in seeking a solution of the problem of stability.

Having touched upon the various earths and soils which come

into practice, the problem is, how to construct with safety and

economy under varying circumstances. _

As before remarked, with a rock bed it is only necessary to

prepare the bed to receive the desired structure.

With the second class, i. e., gravel bed, it is necessary toextend

the base beyond the thickness of the wall to guard against lateral

motion; as a rule an increase of about one-half the thickness of

the wall will give a sufficient base. In some ordinary founda-

tions in gravel, trenches are dug to the desired depth and filled

with irregular fragments of stone and then grouted with thin

mortar of lime or cement, in many cases the dry stone foundation

alone is relied upon. The foundation of Fort Hamilton, New

York Harbor, a granite battery of two tier of guns, is built of dry

stone. The Fort has stood about fifty years with no sign of fail-

_ure. The ground is gravel and hard clay. In case of bridge

piers or abutments it is of course necessary to protect the bed

from erosion by the force of ice gorges or freshets. This portion

of the subject will be treated further on.

In the case of sand for foundations, J have presumed to place

the same next in order to gravel. As before stated, sand is equal

284 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

to rock if lateral motion is prevented. ‘There is, however, one

precaution necessary, and this is, that the thickness of the bed of

sand and the substratum should be examined and very carefully,

as many cases have occurred in which the superstrata of sand was

not of sufficient thickness to give reliable resistance. In such

cases, as in the fifth class, resort to artificial support must be had

as will be noticed as I progress.

In the 4th class there is no particular precaution necessary as it

is presupposed, as already stated, that the bed will give sufficient

resistance. |

In considering the sixth class we arrive at that portion of our

work where we may expect to meet the unusual difficulties, where

science is often at fault, and where extensive practical knowledge

is necessary to overcome the difficulty. It would perhaps be a

loss of time for me to go over the ordinary methods of construct-

ing foundations in what are considered substantial beds, excepting

where I may have occasion to touch upon foundations for partic-

ular structures, my purpose is te review the best methods of

overcoming the greatest difficulties.

General Delafield, ex-Chief of the U.S. Engineer Corps, has

written a work upon foundations in yielding soil, in which he

gives conclusive proofs of failure, in every case, of grillage or

platform foundations. These foundations are made by excavating

to a sufficient depth and placing two or more courses of strong

timbers at right angles over the ground to be occupied; the spaces

between the timber are then filled with béton composed of cement,

sand and broken stone or gravel. Over this is placed one or more

courses of strong plank placed in close position and securely fast-

ened to the grillage, and the structure is erected upon the floor

thus resulting.

As before stated, these foundations have failed in every instance

where extensive permanent buildings have been erected upon the —

same, and it was the opinion of General Delafield that the same

should not be used unless in connection with some more reliable

supports. ,

The platform foundation being a failure, our next resort is piling,

and the different manners in which this may be applied, is one of

the particular points I wish to touch upon in this paper.

A Chapter on Foundations. 285

Major Sanders of the Engineer Corps and Mr. McAlpin, Civ.

Ener., have had perhaps the best opportunities of investigating

this class of foundations and supplying reliable practical formule.

Major Sanders has experimented and successfully constructed at

Fort Delaware and Reedy Island on the Delaware river, on the

most treacherous alluvium, upon which a permanent extensive

building has perhaps ever been erected. Borings were made at

these places to a depth of about 50 feet, and nothing but a liquid

impalpable sea of mud was found. Piles were driven from forty

to ninety feet deep with the greatest ease. Trial piles were driven

and loaded with great weights and the effect of these weights was

observed and recorded during a series of years; from these obser-

vations a formula was deduced which became a basis of the con-

struction of the foundation of Fort Delaware and similar,

structures.

Mr. McAlpin, eminent in his profession, had charge of the con-

struction of the United States dry dock in the Brooklyn navy

yard, and had to contend with a treacherous bed of quick sand

and springs, where the difficulties encountered are almost inde-

scribable and the engineers were at times almost driven to

despair.

The results of the labors of the aforementioned engineers were

almost identical and the application of their formulae, will, in

doubtful cases, be liable to err on the side of safety.

At Fort Delaware, the possibility of reaching a bottom support

for piling was out of the question, on account of the expense.

The alternative was to consolidate and compact the super strata

in such a manner as to support the weight of the design by driv-

ing as many piles as the ground would admit of; the piling was

substantially capped, the spaces filled with béton and covered with

a strong timber floor, upon which the Fort now stands, without

any failure. ad there been a hard substratum at a reasonable

depth, the piles would in that. case be only so many columns sup-

porting the superstructure.

Major Sanders’ formula is as follows :

Divide the fall of the ram in inches by the motion of the pile

at the last blow in inches; multiply the quotient by one-eighth of

286 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

the weight of. the ram in pounds, the product will be the weight

the pile can bear with safety.

RX (h+ ;

(w= =" 2)

Mithel’s screw piles have been used with good success; they

consist of iron piles in sections of desirable length, the bottom

section having one turn of a broad iron screw; these are forced

into the ground by turning them around by means of levers

moved by man or horse power. The government of Great Britain

has built a number of bridges in India upon screw pile piers,

which have all been successful.

The screw cylinder I consider a great improvement over the

screw pile. The cylinder is made of cast iron of convenient

lengths ; the lower section is provided with a screw on the outside,

of a foot or more in width, the sections are screwed and bolted to-

gether by flanges on the inside; the earth is removed from the

inside by suitable implements as fast as the cylinder progresses.

The cylinder is afterwards filled with concrete.

The Triger system of foundations (so named from its inventor)

and largely improved and applied by Mr. Hughes in England, is

in reality an enlared hollow pile, and ultimately led to the use of

very large cylinders and caissons. I present herewith a plan of

an iron centre-pier for a swing bridge, the process of the opera-

tion of lowering, excavating, under pinning and filling is shown

in the drawings. The centre pier of the iron swing bridge over

the Harlem river at New York was constructed in this manner by

Mr. McAlpin. There was one central and nine circumscribing

cylinders of six feet diameter, these were put down from 60 to 80

feet until the bottom was considered sufficiently resisting to bear

the great weight. When the cylinders came to rest, the base was

enlarged four feet in all directions, this ingreased the resisting area

to forty-nine as against nine without this precaution.

If there is much trouble from leakwater, the Plenum and

Vacuum process may be applied by putting an airlock on the top

of the cylinder and forcing in air under sufficient pressure to expel

the water. When the excavation has proceeded as far as possi-

ble, the process is reversed and the air exhausted, the atmospheric

pressure will then force the cylinder onward.

A Chapter on Foundations. 287

At the building of Skilligalee Light House, a great deal of dif-

ficulty was encountered. The shoal upon which the light is situ-

ated is in the northern end of Lake Michigan some miles from the

east shore and is composed of gravel and boulders. As it was

impossible to drive piles and the mass so irregular in consistence

other means had to be employed in order toget a safe foundation.

The area was first enclosed by a secure cribdam, inside of this

an iron cylinder sufficiently large to enclose the foundation of the

tower was placed, open at top and bottom. It was supposed at

first that the water could be kept down by means of pumps and

the excavation be made it the open cylinder. It soon appeared

that this was impossible; sheet piling was out of the question,

and no matter how tight the cribdam might be made, the leaks

through the boulders and gravel from below would still remain.

A diaphragm was constructed in the cylinder and the excava-

tion continued under the plenum process until the cylinder

reached about 13 feet below the lake water level.

Stone and other materials were passed through an air lock to

the workmen below, and the lower part of the cylinder was built

up with solid masonry until there was sufficient weight to exclude

the water; the diaphragm was then cut away and the work con-

tinued from above. ‘The unavoidable manner of operating

brought the work into what we know at present ‘“‘caisson,’’ an ex-

ceedingly expensive and tedious plan, and, as in the case above

mentioned, should only be a last resort when no other plan will

promise success.

The latest wonders in construction are now before us. One

the great steel arch bridge so successfully completed across the

Mississippi at St. Louis, and the other now in process of construc-

tion across the Hast river at New York. In the case of the St.

Louis bridge, the certainty of reaching bed rock was a great in-

ducement to the engineer to adopt the caisson and place his work

thereon, although a stratum of good earth was found under the

river drift, which continued the same to the bottom. Had it been

impossible to reach rock, a coffer-dam enclosure would have

enabled the excavation to be made and bearing piles to be driven

and would, in my estimation, have made a foundation as safe as

the present one. ;

288 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Aris, and Letters.

The Brooklyn caisson of the Hast river bridge rests for the

most part on a bed of boulders and hard-pan at a depth of 444

feet below mean high tide and the top of the caisson at 20 feet.

The depth of water is from 12 to 16 feet in front of the tower;

the river drift was perhaps 12 to 14 feet deep. This leaves us but

80 feet from mean high tide to a good foundation, if properly

treated. |

This Brooklyn caisson cost something over $300,000; a coffer-

dam would have cost less than $100,000; the excavation would

have cost less also than the masonry; so that it is very evident

that there would have been a considerable saving in cost. The

weight resting upon the bottom is about 54 tons per square foot,

and is considered entirely safe. The settling at the water line

has upon close observation barely exceeded one inch at any point.

The consideration of these two extraordinary structures -has

brought us to the subject of foundations in water. Many of the

plans mentioned in a preceding part of this paper are applicable

to piers and abutments in water. The solid and hollow screw

pile and iron cylinder can be applied with success. A very com-

mon plan for piers consists of a sufficient number of bearing piles

surrounded by timber cribs and the space filled with loose stone

to support the piles against lateral motion. ‘The crib is not per-

mitted to rest upon the bottom but is supported some distance above

so that the stone may roll out and assume a position which will

give a broad base to the filling.

A very exéellent plan for building piers and permanent wharves

has been extensively applied by the U. S. Hug. Corps, where the

bottom was of substantial material: A scaffold is erected upon

piles driven by a floating pile driver, upon this the exact location

of each pier is determined. Loose stone or bowlders are removed

from the site and a sufficient number of bearing piles are driven

and sawed off perfectly level close to the bottom. See plan of saw.

The bottom course of the pier of 4, 6 or 8 feet square and 2 feet

or over in thickness is composed of one stone, this stone is

lewised at the corners and supported by chains to which are at-

tached large screws which pass through timbers on the staging.

The first stone being placed«in the slings it is lowered to the level

A Chapter on Foundations. 289

of the staging. The second course composed of two or more

stone is then built upon the first and set in mortar and clamped

and doweled together. The screws are then slacked down until

the top of the course is level with the staging, and so continue

until the’ work reaches bottom. The several piers are then con-

nected by iron beams and brick arches covered with concrete, the

surface may be paved with any suitable material. I can state

from my own experience that such piers have teen built in from

12 to 20 feet of water without the least difficulty.

Gen’! Richard Delafield’s memoir on foundations in compress:

ible soils is probably the ablest investigation on the subject.

19 )

290 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

PRIMITIVE ARCHITECTURE IN AMERICA.

The Different Stuges and Modes of Life Hxhibited in the Pre-historte Works

of America.

By Rey. 8. D. Pret, Epitorn AMERICAN ANTIQUARIAN.

One of the most noticeable things in the prehistoric works of

America is that they present native architecture in various stages

of development. The study of these works furnishes a clue to

the states of society in pre-historic times. It also affords us many

hints as to the pre-historic races, and their origin, growth and de-

velopment. There is need, however, that we have a better under-

standing of these stages themselves. Now we propose to study

the pre-historic works of America, so that, if possible, we can

trace the line of development of society, or if not, so that we

can discover various grades which have been presented by

it. One of the difficulties in tracing a connected development

is that these works are so separated from one another by geo-

graphical lines, that we cannot ascribe them to the same people.

This is favorable in one respect, because the lines which separate

the grades are distinct, and we can thus determine the character-

istics which belong to each. There are all the differences between

the pre-historic works found on this continent that have been

supposed to exist in the works which have been so faithfully

studied in the Huropean countries. But the differences here

are marked by peculiarities of architecture, rather than those of

art; the cultus here being exhibited by the works, rather than by

the relics.

There are no names which define or describe the stages of

society here, such as are used in Hurope, but those stages, never-

theless, exist, being shown here by primitive architecture, as they

are there by primitive art. The ages which have been so clearly

distinguished, and which depend upon the material of the relics

found in Hurope, have not been identified here, but the grades

of society are shown by the material used in architectural struct-

wikia

Primitive Architecture in America. 291

ures, and so the lines of distinction are somewhat similar.

The geographical lines separate the works, and the material distin-

guishes them. In Hutope the different relics are found in the

same locality, and successive stages of cultus have been discov-

ered, being identified by the material used, as well as by other

characteristics. It is supposed that successive waves, of popu-

lation have thus left their tokens; possibly different races

have overrun the same locality. But the growth of society has

been much more connected in Hurope than in America. Here

wide districts have separated the races and their works, and the

ruins which are discovered in these districts are so unlike, that

they indicate different lines of development, if not different

ethnic origin. Wherever a succession of races has been discov-

ered, we have found that some of the races had prevailed else-

where, and intruded themselves upon the domain of others. The

study of the works, peculiar to each geographical locality, has

revealed this fact, for it is easy to trace the resemblances and so

identify the works with the races. If there are earth-works

found in Mexico and Central America, they are not the charac-

teristics or predominant structures. If there are stone cysts and

occasional stone-walls in the Mississippi Valley, still the earth

works are the prevailing structures here. This identifying the ar-

chitectural peculiarities of one locality, in the midst of the works

belonging to another, has this advantage; it enables us to see the

grades which architecture has reached and associate them with

the different states of society. The only disadvantage is, that it

prevents us from tracing any connected development; in other

words, instead of blending together, as they do in Hurope, the

works are here separated in wide gaps; great difference im archi-

tectural forms being discovered. It is not difficult to trace the

grades, but it is difficult to discover the connecting links.

We propose to examine the works which are peculiar to the

different geographical localities and to compare them with one

another, and so endeavor to ascertain if there was any separate

line of development. The first class of works which we shall ex-

amine will be those which are known to have been erected by the

Indian tribes and which prevailed, extensively, both on the Atlan-

292 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

tic and the Pacific coast. The second will be those found in the

Mississippi valley which are generally known by the name of the

Mound Builders works. The third, those found in the Great

Plateau of the West, known as the Puebloes. The fourth class

are those which belonged to the civilized races of Mexico and

Central America. We might, indeed, also examine the works of

the different geographical ‘localities, and compare them, and so

endeavor to ascertain whether there was any connection between

them ; that is to say, whether there was any development of one

into the other. {If the development is continental instead of local,

it should be recognized. The transition from one to the other

is 80 abrupt, that it is difficult to trace any connection.

The architectural forms follow different types, and the whole

character of the pre-historic works, in the separate localities, show

a development so distinct that we can hardly find anything in

common.

I. We shall consider first, then, the House Architecture, and, —

afterward, the Military Works, which are known to belong to the

various Indian tribes. |

In considering the works of this class, however, we shall exam-

ine them in all localities, wherever the Indian tribes are known

to have prevailed, and so compare them with the works of each

locality. 3

We shall not, then, in this paper, undertake to trace any com-

mon type through the different geographical localities, but shall

refer to those which are characteristic of the separate localities,

and shall, by this means, undertake to show what different grades

of architecture have appeared in the different portions of this

continent. : .

We may see, also, that these different grades are associated

with the different states of society ; the first, with the hunter life;

the second, with the agricultural; the third, with the village

life; the fourth, with the civilized state.

In taking this position, we do not deny but that these different

states of society and the corresponding architecture prevailed to a

certain extent outside of the particular localities to which they

B= hi

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= HUMMUS, , LSS

KUTCHIN LODGE,

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Hie pf

Primitive Architecture in America. 995

dre ascribed. But they most abound and are best known in the

localities to which they are referred.

We maintain that, whatever races built the separate works, the

grades of architecture are so unlike as to show an entirely differ-

ent social-status. The mode of life and the social status corre-

sponded, and the architectural grades partook of each.

We proceed, then, to consider the house architecture of the

uncivilized races. We do not need to refer to the Indian Wigwam,

to show that this style of building was very primitive. There

wére many different methods of building houses among the

Indians. It is difficult to say whether, under certain circum-

stances, they did not build even in the same style with the Cliff

Dwellers, and if the Mound Builders’ house was not an interme-

diate link between them. The primitive character is, however, no-

ticeable. “Mr. Stephen Powers, in his work on the California Tribes,

enumerates seven varieties of the lodge, constructed by these tribes,

adapted to the different climates. of the state. One form was

adapted to the raw aod foggy climate of the California coast, con-

structed with redwood poles over an excavated pit ; another to the

snow-belt of the coast range and the Sierras ; another to the high

ranges of the Sierras; another to the warm coast valleys ;

another, limited to a small area, constructed of interlaced willow

poles, the interstices being open; another to the woodless plains

of the Sacramento and the San Joaquin, dome-shaped and cov-

ered with earth; and another to the hot and nearly rainless region

of the Kern and Tulare valleys, made of tule * * * The

round, domed-shaped, earth-covered lodge, is considered the char-

acteristic one of California; and probably two-thirds of its im-

mense, aboriginal population lived in dwellings of this

description. The doorway is sometimes directly on top,

sometimes on the ground, at one side.” We give a cut

of this form of lodge, and would call attention to the resemblance

between it and the Maudan lodge. The Mandans occupied the

country on the Missouri river, and their lodges have been de-

scribed by Catlin in his North American Indians. The remains

of similar lodges are found in quite considerable numbers in

southwestern Iowa, many small circles of earth having been dis-

296 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters.

covered on the bluffs bordering the Missouri river; showing where.

the lodges had been located and were fallen down. The Kutchin

Lodge is somewhat similar-in form, but is generally covered with

deer-skins dressed with the hair on.. The Ojibwa cabin, which.

may still be found on the south shore of Lake Superior, was also

similar; though it came to a point at the top, forming a perfect.

cone, and was covered with birch-bark.. The Dakota lodge “was

constructed with a frame of poles; the poles, 13 in number, being

from 15 to 18 feet in length, were tied together at the top, and a

number of tanned buffalo skins were stitched together and drawn.

MANDAN HOUSE.

over these. The Winnebagoes, formerly in Wisconsin, built their:

lodges in the same way, but used rough mats for covering. his;

hemispherical or conical shaped house is probably the most.com-)

mon of any among the rude uncivilized tribes in all countries.:

Lodges, resembling them, are described as common in Africa.;

The Zulus to-day live in houses which might be mistaken for:

Indian wigwams, and even their palisades, which surround the

inclosures where these lodges are situated, might also be mistaken:

for Indian stockades. A second form of lodge, found in Califor-,

nia, is the one given*in the cut \which is taken from Mr. Powers’

work. This wigwam is in the shape of the capital letter L, made:

up of. slats, leaning up to a ridgepole and heavily thatched. .

There are three narrow holes, for entrance, one on either end and

one at the elbow. Half a dozen such houses make an Indian.

== = = = ==

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SS —— —— = — = = es

SS Ss

itn on ies R Butusit,

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THATCHED LODGE,

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Primitive Architecture in America. 299

village, with the addition of a dome-shaped assembly or dance house

in the middle, or open space. One or more acorn granaries, of

wicker-work, stand around each lodge, much like hogsheads in

shape and size, either on the ground or mounted on posts as high

as one’s head, filled with acorns and capped with thatch. Similar

to this style is the Yokuts lodge, also described by Mr. Powers.

Every village consists of a single row of wigwams, conical

or wedge shaped, generally made of tule, and just enough

hollowed out within so that the inmates may sleep with the head

higher than their feet, all in perfect alignment, and with a contin-

uous awning of brushwood stretching along in front. In oneend

wigwam lives the village captain; on the other the shaman or sv-

sé-ro. In the mountains there is some approach to this martial

array, but it is universal on the plains. Perhaps the most com-

pletely developed house was that found among the Iroquois.

This has been described by L. H. Morgan, in his work on House-

Life and House Architecture. It consisted of a strong frame of

upright poles set in the ground, which were strengthened with

horizontal poles, attached with withes and surmounted by a tri-

angular, and in some cases with around roof. It was covered

over both sides and roof with large strips of elm-bark, tied to the

frame with strings or splints. A similar frame work was then

placed outside of the bark both along the sides and on the roof,

and the two frames tied together, with the bark between. At

each end was a doorway, covered with suspended skins, Within,

the house was divided into compartments like stalls, a passage

way running through the whole house from end to end. These

long houses of the Iroquois were often 50, 80 or 100 feet long,

and sometimes occupied by 20 families. (See cut on opp. page.)

The Algonquin houses were built in a somewhat similar manner,

a large, rounded house, from 50 to 80 feet in length, covered with

several families,

The Iroquois and Algonquin tribes generally dwelt in villages.

The village consisted of a number of tenement houses, arranged

around a central open space, and surrounded with a palisade.

Some of them were not enclosed with a palisade. These houses

800 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

have been described by Sir Richard Grenville, who visited Roa-

noke Island in 1655. An artist, John Wyth, who was with the

expedition, has furnished a number of valuable sketches of these

villages. The description of Pomeiock is as follows: “The

towns in Virginia are very like those in Florida, not, however, so

well and firmly built, and are enclosed by a circular palisade with

a narrow entrance. In the town of Pomeiock, the buildings are

mostly those of the chiefs and men of rank. On one side is the

Temple (council house), (A) of a circular shape, apart from the

rest, and covered with mats on every side, without windows, and’

receiving no light except through the entrance. The residence

of their chief (B) is constructed of poles fixed in the ground,

bound together and covered with mats, which are thrown off at.

pleasure, to admit as much light and air as they may require.”

We have thus given, at considerable. length, a. description of

the house-architecture of the different Indian tribes) We may

discover in all these houses a very great similarity, and’can easily

perceive that a great difference exists between them and both the

Pueblo houses of Arizona and the cliff-houses of Colorado and

New Mexico.

We turn now to consider the stockades and military architect-

ure of the uncivilized races. This architecture is well known,

for history has made a record of them. What history lacks, also,

archzeology furnishes, for there are many remains of the forts and

stockade-villages of the later Indians. These remains are found,

oftentimes, amid the works of the Mound-Builders, but they can

be easily distinguished by their peculiarities. 'They consist of a

simple, rude wall in the form of a circle, with a ditch on either

side, but with no signs of any pains taken, either with their ferm

or finish. They are generally found situated on the summit of

some hill, near some stream or spring, and in places capable of

defense as well as suitable for residence. They can be distinguished

from the Mound-Builders’ works, for these are much more mass-

ive, have a higher architectural finish, and were used for many

other purposes than as defenses. There are many remains of

stockades throughout Northern Ohio and in Michigan, where it

is known that the Red Indians had their habitation, and where

Primitive Architecture in America. N 301

the country itself was favorable to the hunting life. There are

also a few such works found along the Ohio river and in the

southern states, but they seem to have been intruded among other

works and probably were later in their origin and more transitory

in being occupied. The habitats of. the stockade-builder, how-

ever, seem to have been New York State, and the regions east of

the Alleghany mountains. Vast numbers of their defenses and

villages are now discovered upon the hill-tops of this region.

S. G. Squier has described no less than three hundred of them

in the State of New York alone. The works of the Mound-

Builders are distinguished from these not only by being in a dif-

ferent geographic locality, but by belonging to a different grade

of architecture. If. the Mound-Builders were Indians, they

were Indiang in a higher stage of culture, for their works

show much more skill and a different state of- society.

The warlike Indians would naturally erect stockades and

then make their predatory excursions and pursue their warlike

life, in such regions as would furnish the best defenses. No

place was more favorable to this than that very state where the

Six Nations, the Iroquois, made their home. Surrounded on all

sides by mountain barriers or great bodies of water, they were

safe in their retreat, yet they were so closely connected with other

parts of the interior, both by the lines of the Ohio river and its

branches, by the great chain of lakes, and by the Ottawa river

in Canada, that it was with great ease that they could attack the

inhabitants to the west of them. They overran the whole inte-

rior, and subdued the wild tribes existing there.

_ We have only to imagine a similar history connected with

other races at a previous date. The evidences of history are that

the tribes situated throughout this valley of the Ohio river, and

the upper Mississippi were, when first known to the white man, —

In the same warlike state. The Hries, Wyandots and Shawnees,

the Miamis and Illinois, the Cherokees, and, perhaps, the Choc-

| taws, were all in a migratory condition where it was impossible

for them to have attained any settled state, or to the agricultural

condition. They were hunters, and seemed to have been so for

very many years. It is probable that the remains of stockades

302 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

in the midst of the earthworks of this region, are the ruins of

their habitations. By comparing these with others, which have

been described by history, we shall be able to see that they rep-

resent a very different stage of development from the earthworks

with which they are associated. We do not deny that some of

the Indian tribes reached a high stage of development and at-

tained to considerable architectural skill, but there seemed to be

a great difference between their works, at their best, and the

works of the Mound Builders, both in style and finish, and other

peculiarities.

The Mound Builders may possibly have used stockades, and

made their earth walls serve the. purposes of parapets, and so their

works would be only a development of this. Yet, even then we

must ascribe different grades of architecture to the two classes of

works. The material used is certainly different, and the style is

different. The Iroquois built perpendicular structures, without

any platforms, and depended upon the strength of timber for de-

fense. he Mound Builders built their structures in the pyramidal

style, and depended upon the strength of their earth-wal!s both

for defenses and observatories.

The Cliff Dwellers and the Puebloes had a still different mode

of defense. They erected perpendicular walls, but built in ter-

races, and depended upon adobé or stone as the material which —

should resist attack. Where they did not build in terraces, they

put their houses into the niches of the rocks, and depended upon

the Cliffs for protection.

That the ordinary Indian had a different grade of architecture

from the Mound Builders or the Puebloes, is evident, also, from

other circumstances.

II. We now turn to the works of the Mound Builders. I think

we shall find among tiem, an entirely different grade of architect-

ure and a different mode of life. We are not now considering

the question whether the Mound Builders were Red Indians, or

not, but whether their mode of life, their social status and their

architectural skill were not all different from those with which

we are familiar, as belonging to the Indian tribes. One of the

first things whicn impresses us in this connection is the difference

’ Primitive Architecture in America: 303

in the locality in which the Mound Builders made their homes.

The later Indians sought the forests and made their homes beside

the rivers and lakes, but the Mound Builders either sought the

prairies or the rich valleys, and erected their largest structures

where the land was most fertile, and where the resources of agri-

culture were most productive. ‘T'he conclusion is forced upon us

that they were agriculturists. While there are many works which

show that they depended upon hunting, and that they also

‘were warlike and erected many works of defense, yet that the

peaceful, agricultural life was the prevailing one, is evident.

‘They certainly evidently selected the sites for their homes, more

with a view to the agricultural advantages, than to the military.

There are many military works which evidently belong to them,

but their most complicated and elaborate structures are found in

the most fertile-zegions, in localities favorable to an agricultural

life, and yet so secure as to render their permanent settlement

possible. ‘The grades of architectureamong the Mound Builders’

works correspond to this idea, a wonderful correlation existing

between them and the topography. The great capital of the

Mound Builders of Ohio, for instance, was at Newark. Here it

is plain that agricultural life wag pursued. The great Circle at

Circleville is also in the midst of a rich valley. The works at

Chillicothe, at Marrietta, at Portsmouth, were all situated in rich

agricultural regions; even Ft. Ancient, on the Miami, was on the

borders of a high but fertile prairie, while the valley of the Miami

below furnishes other facilities for culture, as well as resources in

its waters. The Great Mound at Cahokia is situated in a fertile

region, known as the Great American Bottoms, and shows, both

in its vast dimensions and the number of surrounding works, that

it was in the center of a thickly populated locality. The great

mounds at Htowah and Hufaula, Georgia, are also in that fertile

region which has been described by the early historians as occu-

pied by a peaceful, agricultural people. Descriptions are given

by the historians connected with Ferdinand De Soto, of great

corn-fields, of numerous villages, of powerful tribes located on

the rivers, of chiefs or caciques having their houses on the sum-

mits of platforms, and of ar industrious and thrifty people. They

804 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

were certainly less war-like than the savage tribes of the north,

whom ha Salle and Hennepin afterward visited. Whether they

were the builders of the works now existing, or were occupying

the works of another people who preceded them, they were in the

agricultural state. ‘Tbe massiveness of the pyramids or platforms

of earth, found throughout this region, show that a sedentary / :

people, who bad long followed the peaceful pursuit of agricul-

ture, and who had reached a high degree of architectural skill;

had lived here. And so, throughout the whole valley of the

Mississippi the evidences are accumulating that there was a stage

of society, once existing here, quite different from that which ever

prevailed among the savage tribes.

These savage tribes did indeed follow the agricultural life to

a certain extent, and some of them reached a high state of devel-

opment. The history of the Iroquois ‘confederacy records the

facts that there was not only a high state of political and social

life among them, but that agriculture and architecture also

reached some degree of development ; but the description of their

works by history, and especially as seen in the fragmentary ruins

left by them, would indicate that the Mound Builders were far in

advance in all these respects. If we can look at the amount of

toil necessary to erect the great earthworks which are scattered

over the country, we must ascribe to the Mound Builders an in-

dustry which never existed among the later Indians. It is said

that the Mound of Cahokia covered an area of six acres, and its

solid contents have been estimated at 20,000,000 cubic feet: It

was 705 feet in length and the same in width, and rose to a height

of 90 feet. It was built in two stories, the lower terrace having

a breadth of 160 feet and length of 300 feet, and the upper ter-

race or summit affording a platform of 200 by 450 feet. [The

Great Pyramid of Ghizeh is only 720 feet square, but has a height

of 450 feet.] This is only one of sixty similar mounds which

are found in the same locality. The great mound at Miamisburg

is 68 feet in height and 852 feet in circumference, and contains

311,353 cubic feet. It is said that the mound was built as an

observatory and overlooks the Big Twin river. It is situated on

-a hill just east of the Great Miami, and not only commands a

Primitive Architecture in America. 305

view of the whole valley of the river, but a beacon on its summit

ean be seen from another high mound in Butler county and from

one at Springboro, and from the works at Ft. Ancient. The Grave

Creek Mound is 70 feet in height and nearly 1,000 feet in cireum-

ference at its base. It was built, evidently, as a sepulchral

mound ; two vaults having been found in it, which contained at

the time it was opened over 3,000 shell beads, several bracelets of

copper, various articles carved in stone and a number of orna-

ments. A stone mound once existed near Newark, O., made up of

stone laid up without cement, 52 feet high and a circular base of

182 feet in diameter. During the year 1831-32 not less than 50

teams were employed in hauling stone from it, and carried away

from 10,000 to 15,000 wagon loads. The Big Mound in St. Louis

was 150 feet in length and 30 in height. Within this was also

a sepulchral tomb, 8 to 12 feet wide, 75 feet long and 8 to 10 feet

in height, in which from twenty to thirty burials had taken place.

The great mound at Seltzertown, Mississippi, is in the form of a

truncated pyramid, about 600 by 400 feet at its base, and cover-

ing nearly six acres of ground. It is placed to coincide with

the cardinal points, its greater length being from east to west. It

is 40 feet high, and reached by a graded way leading to a plat-

form on the summit, whose area is four acres, and from which rise

three, conical, truncated mounds, about 40 feet in height, and

eight smaller ones.

- The Messier Mound, Karly county, Ga., is in the form of the

frustum of a rectangular pyramid, 66 by 156 feet at the summit,

which isa level plane. The base measures, northern side, 188

feet; southern side, 198 feet; eastern and western sides, 324 feet

each. This tumulus contains 75,000 cubic yards of earth, and

would weigh from 90,000 to 100,000 tons, to remove which, by

modern means, would cost $50,000, under the same conditions

that would require the labor of 1,000 savages one year with the

aid of baskets, etc., for the transfer of the earth.

In speaking of these latter mounds, Hon. C. C. Jones says:

“ Upon even a cursory examination of these groups of mounds

with their attendant ditches, earth-walls and fish-preserves, it is

difficult to resist the impression that they are the remains of

306 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Aris, and Letters.

a people more patient of labor, and, in some respects, superior to

the nomadic tribes which, within the memory of the whites, clung

around and devoted to secondary uses these long deserted monu-—

ments. ‘There is not a considerable stream within the limits of

Georgia in whose valleys tumuli of this sort are not to be found:

They appear in Florida and are frequent in Alabama, where

truncated pyramids are even more abundant. Tennessee, South

Carolina, Mississippi and Louisiana are dotted with interesting

monuments of this class. The occupation of this region by the

Mound Builders was by no means inconsiderable. It is in fertile

valleys and upon alluvial river-flats, whose soil afforded ample

scope for agricultural pursuits, that these tumuli are mainly seen.

There are many works which show the cultus and the social

status of the Mound Builders, and these all indicate that the

mode of life prevalent among them was entirely different from

that which we know to have existed among the ordinary tribes of

Indians. The complicated and elaborate system of earth-walls

which surround the so-called military, sacred and village en-

closures, the various excavations which formed the moats which

protected their villages, or ponds for the preservation of fish,

the many graded ways which formed the entrances to enclosures,

and the many platforms and other structures which were discov-

ered in those enclosures, all show that the society among the

Mound Builders had reached a stage where all the varied offices

known to civilized life were already common, and where a com-

plete organization had begun to appear. . The evidences are, that

the Mound Builders were agricultural, and having passed beyond

the unsettled condition of the savage races, occupied a position

intermediate between the hunter races of the east and the Puebloes

of the west, and were also in that social state which .formed a

connecting link between the two. The term Village Indian has

been applied to them, but we maintain that while village life evi-

dently prevailed among them, it was not their distinctive pecul-

iarity. A residence in collected bodies was common throughout

all the grades and states. This was owing partly to the com:

munistic state and the tribal organization; but the term Village

Indians does not express their status. They were not in that

EIGH BANK WORKS

ROSS CO. OHIO,

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Bug holes

Sections

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900 fi tothe Inch

MOUND BUILDER'S CIRCLE.

Primitive Architecture in America. 809

condition which we know to have prevailed among the Puebloes

where the communistic state reached such perfection, and where

the social organization was s) compacted. Nor were they, on the -

other hand, mere confederate tribes, who were full of warlike

exploits, nomadic in habit, and scarcely out of the hunter state,

but they were evidently agricultural, sedentary and thoroughly,

organized. We quote again from Mr. Jones, who seems to have

apprehended the true status of this unknown people: ‘‘ Why the

older Indian tribes should have erected monuments so much more

substantial and imposing than those which were constructed by

the modern Indians, it is difficult to say. Forming permanent

settlements, they devoted themselves to agricultural pursuits

erected temples, fortified localities, worshipped the sun, possessed

idols, wrought largely in stone, fashioned ornaments of foreign

shells, and occasionally of gold, used copper implements, and were

not entirely improvident of the future, Such was the fertility of

the localities most thickly peopled by them, so pleasant the cli.

mate and-so abundant the supply of game, that these ancient

settlers were in great measure relieved from that stern struggle,

which, among nomadic tribes and under more inhospitable skies,,

constitutes the great battle with nature for life.

We present a cut to illustrate one class of works common

among the Mound Builders, taken from the work of Squier and.

Davis, with it we find the following description: ‘‘The principal

work consists of an octagon and circle, the former measuring 950

feet, the latter 1,050 feet in diameter. * * The walls of the

octagon are very bold, and, where they have been least subject to,

cultivation, are now between eleven and twelve feet in height, by

about fifty feet base. The wall of the circle is much less, nowhere

measuring over forty or fifty feet in altitude. In all these re-

spects, as in the absence of a ditch, and the presence of the two,

small circles, this work resembles the Hopeton works.” Of the

latter, which is nine miles above on the Scioto, they remark that

“the walls of the rectangular work are composed of a clayey

loam twelve feet high by fifty feet base. *. * They resemble,

the heavy grading of a railway, and are broad enough on top to,

admit of the passage of a coach.” |

810 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

III. We turn then, in the third place, to consider the archi:ect-

ure of the Pueblos. The name Pueblo signifies village, and we

shall find that village life is better represented by them, than any

other people. This life is indeed compact and concentrated, a

whole village being often contained in a single house, a house

constituting a village. But if a numerous population and the

concentration of a large number of families into oue locality,

constitutes a village, we certainly have the essential feature of

village life, here.

Ordinarily the different occupatious of villagers are pursued

separately. Hither the houses will be distinct, or the people who

dwell in them will follow these occupations separately, with the

places where they labor, removed from their residence. This’ is

so in civilized countries. There is an approach to the Pueblo

life in some of our cities, where the blocks of houses are so simi-

lar and so connected, and where the people swarm out from apart-

ment which are constructed exactly the same.

Village life is less compact than city life, and we might prop-

erly consider that it was the life, which both the later Indians

and the earlier Mound Buiiders pursued. In that case we should

class the Puebloes with city architecture, and ascribe city life to

the Pueblo Indians. We have preferred, however, to use the

term village life bere, and if we were to ascribe city life to any

people, would refer it to those races who have left their ruins to

the southwest; i. e. the civilized races of America. There was a

necessity for this concentrated life among the Puebloes, as the

country which they occupied would not admit of a wide spread

population. The mesas which siretch from valley to valley

throughout this whole region where the great plateau of North

America is found, are barren, rocky and uninhabitable. The

only places which admit of settlement and afford the means of

living to any number of people, are the valleys of the streams.

Mr. L. H. Morgan says that New Mexico is a poor country for

civilized man, but quite well adapted to sedentary Indians, who

cultivate about one acre out of every 100,000. The region is

composed of valleys which intervene between the mesas, though’

the cafions here are less abrupt and are wider in extent than in’

Primitive Architecture in America. 3 kk

many other places. The cafions grow deeper and more inaccessi-

ble as one travels southward. There are places where the level

plain between the walls of the cafion range from half a mile to a

mile. Such is the cafion of the Rio Chaco in New Mexico.

The Anamas and San Juan rivers, which are both tributaries of

the Colorado river, contain many puebloes, but are lined with

valleys which extend, in places, even to three miles in width.

The Montezuma valley is a broad and level plain, 50 miles in

length and 10 miles wide. The bluffs bordering the eastern sides

rise boldly 1,500 feet. This whole district has great importance

as an early seat of village Indian life. Theruins which are found

in the valleys of the San Juan, Pine, La Plata, Anamas, Hoven-

weep rivers and the Rio Dolores, show that this remarkable area

has held a prominent place in the first and most ancient develop-

ment of village life in America. The number of puebloes found

in the valleys of these rivers cannot be stated, but from these re-

ports of the United States exploring expedition and other sources,

we learn that these pueblos, both ancient and modern, are scat-

tered thickly throughout the whole region. There are at present

about twenty pueblos in New Mexico. Beside these there are

about seven pueblos of the Moquis, near the Little Colorado.

The most important of these are the celebrated villages of the

Zunis, those in Santo Domingo, Tusayan, Taos, Jemez, Zia, Jose

Miguel. These are at present occupied, and are supposed to be

the same places which Coronado visited in 1541, and their pres-

ent occupants are the descendants of the people who lived in

them then. It is probable that some of the houses have stood

during the 340 years which have elapsed, and are the same as

they were with the exception of a few modern improvements..

Mr. L. H. Morgan thinks that the villages of the Zuni are the

same as the Seven Cities of Cibola, so noted in history. In the

center of a plain, upon a commanding eminence, stands the in-

habited Pueblo. Its frontage is upon the river, where but a short

distance in the background the mesa terminates in tall cliffs, sev-

eral hundred feet high. The town is built in blocks, with ter-

raced shaped houses, usually three stories high, in which the lower

stories do service as the platform for those above. The town is’

812 Wisconsin. Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters,

compactly built, many of the streets passing under the upper

stories of houses. ‘The whole is divided into four squares and the

houses in each are continuously joined together. Building ma-

terial is stone, plastered with mud. Near this, two miles to the

southeast, situated on an elevated mesa a mile in width, the pre-

cipitous descent from which measures 1,000 feet, are the ruins of

old Zuni.

_ Beneath the walls of this antiquated ruin, others of a more an-

cient city are found, whose walls are six feet thick, the city hav-

ing perished before the present was begun. It appears then that

one type of building prevailed through many ages, the same kind

of structure having been erected thioughout a very wide district

of country. There is, however, a difference in the style of archi-

tecture in this region, which is embraced between great ranges of

mountains, varying according to the belts of latitude, as much as

it is defined and limited, by the longitudinal lines. To the north-

ward, the houses are but one story, and do not differ essentially,

from those of the wild Indians. Within certain parallels the

houses are of the type before referred to, being built in terraces,

and on the level of the plain, undefended, except by their own

walls. Farther south, the houses are placed on the niches of the:

cliffs, and are raised above the valleys, and assume many different.

shapes. Deseriptions of the terraced houses have been given.

They seem to have combined all the characteristics of dwelling-

houses, of village enclosures and of defense. The upper story is

narrower than the one below, so that there is a platform, or land-

ing, along the whole length of the building. 'The house-tops were

used as they are in Oriental countries, as the social gathering

places. This terraced form of architecture is the typical one

throughout New Mexico, Colorado and Arizona.

The buildings are sometimes straight, with wings running to

the front, at right angles, thus forming a rectangular square.

Others are built in a semi-circular form with the terraces rising

like an amphitheatre around a hollow square. These houses are

sometimes three, four or five stories high, and reach great dimen-

sions. The material of which they are constructed is sometimes.

adobe and sometimes stone. The elevation of these Pueblo

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Prinutive Architecture in America. . 315

Houses, have, from time to time been published. We present

herewith, a a restoration of the Pueblo of Bonito, which was pub-

lished in Morgan’s work, and previously in Hayden’s Annual Re-

port. This restoration was made by Mr. Simpson, after the study

of a large number of houses of the same type. The Pueblo

houses varied in size, some having a main building 250 feet in

length, some, 300, and some even larger. They are generally

erected with wings of proportionate length, and. contain often-

times 120 and 140 rooms. The lower stories were used for store-

houses; the upper stories for the residences of the families, and

the highest story as the residence of the cacegue or head man of

the village. ‘The walls on the outside were solid and inaccessible :

on the inside, toward the court, there were no doors, but the upper

stories were reached by ladders which could be taken up, and

thus leave the house like a castle, isolated and raised above the

plain, and inaccessible. There is no doubt that the communistic

system prevailed among the Pueblos. .

The cliff-dwellers’ dwellings differ from these very much in

appearance, and yet they are built on the same plan, and indicate

the same mode of life. The residences were not always connected,

and village life was not as compact. The inhabitants clung

to the cliffs for defense, and scattered their store houses, their

estufas, and their dwellings along the sides of the precipice and on

the edge of the mesas, wedging in their abodes wherever a shelter

was afforded by the rocks.

The style of architecture prevalent among the cliff dwellers

seems to be in great contrast to that prevalent among the Pueb-

loes, but if we analyze and take the component parts of the

Pueblo, and then scatter them over the cliffs, we shall find that

all the elements are here. Sometimes the estu/wu is placed on the

mesa, and sometimes it is crowded in between the cther chambers

under shelter of the cliff. Small rooms are divided off and

used for store rooms. The buildings are not often more than one

story and lack the terrace form which is peculiar to the Puebloes.

But it is evident that the same mode of life was prevalent in

each ; the valleys below furnished the provisions for the people,

and the inhabitants issued from their rock shelters, just as they

816 Wisconsin Académy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

did from the many storied Puebloes, to cultivate the soil below,

and then transported the products to their store houses, high up —

among the rocks. The ascent to these cliff houses was sometimes

quite difficult, the height at which they were erected being in

places several hundred feet. A cliff house visited by W. S.

Jackson has a height of 600 feet above the bottom of the cafion,

100 feet of it almost perpendicular wall. The ledge was ten feet

wide by twenty feet in length. The same party discovered a cave

village, perched up upon a recessed bench, 70 feet above the

valley ; the total length of the town being 546 feet, with a width

in no place more than 40 feet, an estufa or council hall being

- built also into the cliff in the midst of the town; and two rows of

rooms also erected in the shelter, the outer row for residences and

the inner row for store houses. .

On the San Juan river, thirty-five miles {below the mouth of

the La Plata, and ten miles above the Mancos, Mr. Holmes ob-

served an interesting combination of cave-shelters and towers

united in a system for giving signals upon the approach of the

enemy. In the face of a vertical bluff 85 feet high, and about

half way from the trail below, caves had been quarried or weath-

ered in considerable numbers in the shales which constitute one

of the strata in the bluff. A hard platform of rock formed the

floor, and afforded sufficient protection for a narrow platform in

front of these openings. Immediately above these caves upon

this summit of the bluffs, a system of ruined circular towers,

enclosed with semi-circular walls, with the open side of the semi-

circle facing the precipice, was observed. ‘The caves were acces-

sible from the valley below only by means of ladders, and the

towers, in turn, only by ladders from the caves, through the open.

side of their semi-circular enclosures. The walls of these encios-.

ures presented no openings to the plateau above, und it is inferred

that the towers which they enclosed served as outlooks, from

which the sentinel could signal the people who were engaged in

tilling the valley below to flee to their cave-shelters at the ap-

proach of the enemy, and when too closely pressed by an enemy

upon the plateau, the sentinel himself could make his retreat by

means of his ladder to the caves beneath.

_ Primitive Architecture in America. 317

_ The most remarkable cliff-dwellings discovered by Mr. Holmes

are shown in the cut.

These extraordinary fortresses, lodged in caves 800 feet above

the level of the valley, are situated in the canon of the Mancos,

a few miles from its mouth. The first 500 feet of the ascent from

_ the level of the stream is over a rough, cliff-broken slope; the

remainder of massive sandstone full of inches and caves. The

upper house is situated in a deep cavern with overhanging roof

about 100 feet from the clifi’s top. The front wall of the house

is built upon the very edge of the giddy precipice. The larger

house is lodged ina niche or cave 30 feet below. The lower

house was easily accessible. The wall was built flush with the

precipice, and remained standing to a height of 14 feet at the

highest point, though other portions had crumbled away consid-

erably. The house occupied the entire floor of the niche, which

measures 60 feet long by 15 wide.

III. We draw this paper to a close, with a few words in con-

clusion, concerning the architecture of Central America. It was

the effort of our distinguished friend, Mr. L. H. Morgan, to take

away the glamour and correct the falsehoods which had gathered

around the antiquities of this region. It has seemed to us, how-

ever, that he went to the other extreme, especially when he rep-

resented the ancient inhabitants as Indians, wearing breech-clouts

and scarcely different from those whom we know as the ‘‘ savages ”

of North America. There may have been indeed many imaginary

pictures of the condition of the cities which the Spanish Con-

querors entered, but there are enough ruins of these cities to in-

dicate that a barbaric magnificence did prevail there. We are

convinced that the national life had begun, for a much higher

grade of architecture certainly existed there, and the ruins show

that the people had passed out from the village life, into a state

which resembles, in many respects, the artificial and magnificent

state which is peculiar to civilization. City life may better ex-

press the idea than any other term. We do not propose to argue

this point, but refer to it and leave it to our readers to decide

whether the sculptured and highly adorned buildings were not in

fact, as they are called in name, paiaces. The communistic mode

818 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

of life will account for many things, and is a good, working

hypothesis, but we cannot class all the pre-historic inhabitants

together, and call them Indians, for the works which they have

left behind them, and the different grades of architecture seen in

these show to us clearly that different modes of life and a differ-

ent social status prevailed in each geographical district, the grades

of architecture being correlated to them.

There has been, in our opinion, too much said about the builders

of the pre-historic works being all of them Indians. We might as

well talk about the historic works of the east being built by man.

One term is about as generic as the other. In Australia the word

natives denotes the white residents born in the island, but the word

aborigines signifies the races which were found there. If we

could make the distinction between Indians and Aborigines,

caliing only those Indians whoare known to history as the hunters,

and savages, and call the rest by some other name, we should be

saved a great deal of confusion.

They were, no doubt, a!l of them Indians and Aborigines, hav-

ing similar ethnological peculiarities and possibly the same origin.

But there was as much difference between these same Indians as

between the races of whites. Wetalk about Irish, Dutch and

English, and understand that the social life and architectural taste

of these races are very different. But they were not so different

as those found among the Indians. In fact, the Huropean races

are a good deal nearer to one another, both in territorial proxim-

ity, ethnic affinities, and social status, than were any of the native

American races. The Europeans have, to be sure, reached the

position where property in severalty is held, and where landed

estates and family names separate households. The American

acres were in that tribal condition, all of them, where the com-

munistic principle prevailed. The tribal organization was uni-

versal, but the social status in the different geographical localities

and among the different tribes, was very distinct. If America

were compared to Hurope in the times of Julius Czesar, this would

be better understood. At that time Britons, Gauls, and Goths

were occupying the north of Europe. They were the uncivilized

races.

Primitive Architecture in America. 819

The civilized races were found in Italy, Greece and a part of

Spain. They were all Indo-Europeans and had a common origin.

In fact, they all belonged to the White race. The American

aborigines all belonged to the red race. Some were civilized and

some uncivilized.

The works of the Britons and of the Iroquois may be com-

pared. The Gauls or Celts may be considered the Mound Build-

ers, or what is better, perhaps, the Iberians. The German tribes

may be compared to the Pueblos, and the Romans to the Mex-

icans. There was a great difference between the Cis-Alpine and

Trans-Alpine races. Civilization prevailed at Rome, and much

of it was borrowed from the far east. Barbarism prevailed north

of the Alps, and the races came from another stock. So the

civilization of Mexico and Central America may have been de-

rived from across the water, in one direction or the other. The

Aztec, Toltec, and the Chicrinec races may have come from a dif-

ferent stock from the uncivilized races, situated north of Mexico;

the grades of society and the stages of architecture were very

different, not so different as those which prevailed in Hurope, yet

different enough to be recognized now in the ruins and monu-

ments. We present a cut with this article which represents one

of the palaces which were common in Central America.

Mr. H. H. Bancroft has, in his Native Races of the Pacific

Coast, referred to a large number of just such structures. The

ruins of Uxmal and Palenque are often described, but these are

only types of many which were common. The elaborate carving

on the facades of these palaces, the many and complicated halls —

and chambers which were within, the magnificent corridors and

courts which were without, and the whole style of architecture

peculiar to the region, show that the people had reached a high

stage of development. There must have been a barbaric magnifi-

cence which was impressive and strange, and we do not wonder

that the Spanish historians represented them in such glowing

colors as they did.

Whether evidence will be presented, in the course of time, that

this skill and culture were trained by those who had known

something of the civilization {of other continents or not, we can

820 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

not deny that the architecture of this region shows a very differ-

ent condition of life from that presented elsewhere. The soil and

climate may have been favorable, and the increase of wealth and

ease may have resulted in just such magnificence without any

borrowed skill. . But certainly there is a great contrast between

these works of the civilized races, and the rude wigwams of the

savages. All these different styles and grades of architecture

may have had a common origin. Possibly the growth may be

traced from the one to the other, but we can no more compare the

Montezuma of Mexico to the Hiawatha of the Iroquois, than we ~

can the Julius Czesar of Rome to the Ariovistus of the Germans.

It is very fashionable to follow an idea, and to imagine that one

system will explain them all; but the plain facts disprove all

theories. Indian or not, modern or not, the works of Mexico and

Central America show that the races there certainly reached a

very different state of development from what prevailed north of

this region. There is no wonderful mystery about it, and nothing

improbable. The Seven Cities of Cibola, situated as they were

in the deep inierior of this continent, struck the Spaniards with

as much surprise as did the palaces of Mexico. The strange

works of the Mound Builders have not yet ceased to excite our

wonder and baffle our investigations. Only the familiar and rude

ways and works of the Indians excite our contempt. But all of

them are important, as showing what different states of society

have existed on this continent, and how one dark-skinned, copper-

colored race have developed into’so many different stages of cul-

tus. We take the four or five classes of architectural works and

trace in them four or five different modes of life and social con-

ditions, and so have a picture of the pre-historic ageson this con-

tinent which cannot be excelled. The study of primitive archi-

tecture is really the main source of information in reference to

this age,

PROCEEDINGS OF THE ACADEMY SINCE JULY, 1878.

REPORT OF THE SECRETARY.

NINTH REGULAR ANNUAL MEETING,

Held at Madison, December 27, 28 and 29, 1878, tn the Senate Chamber of. the

Capitol.

First SESSION.

THuRSDAY, December 27, 1878,

Academy met at 7:30 P. M., Dr. P. R. Hoy, presiding. Reports from the sec-

retary, treasurer and varlous committees were read and accepted. Pres. Hoy

then delivered his retiring address. After thanking the members for their

kindness manifested toward him during his term of office, Dr. Hoy proceeded

to briefly relate some of the wonderful discoveries of the recent past, rather

than jgive the usual review of the work of the academy. The labors of

Edison, Prof. Draper and various‘travelers were noticed. Dr. Hoy alluded

to the rapid growth of the Academy, which started eight years ago with but

eleven members. The address closed with afeeling tribute to deceased mem-

_ bers, including the late Prof. Carpenter, whose recent death was severely felt

at Madison.

“Did Bacon Write Shakspere?’’ a paper by Prof. Albert Hardy, of Mil-

waukee, followed.

The question of the authorship of Shakespere’s plays was one of recent

growth. Carefully collected facts were introduced to show the high regard

which was accorded Shakespere by his contemporaries. The growth of the

‘drama was depicted. A large number of passages taken from Shakespere

and Bacon were cited to present the similarities and difference of the two

writers. <A strict analysis of the style reveals many intricacies of expression,

which would escape a less careful scrutiny. From such an analysis the

‘author of the paper was ready to ascribe to Shakespere the authorship of the

plays which have immortalized his name.

“The Origin of the Township,” a paper by Prof. Allen, of Madison, was

read next. It consisted of a brief outline of the history of the organization

of townships in France, Germany and England.

After the reading of this paper, a committee was appointed to report on the

‘death of Prof. Carpenter.

Adjourned.

322 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

SECOND SESssION.

December 28th, 9 A. M

After the election of several new members, Dr. Birge, of the State Univer-

sity, read a paper on “ The Theories of Heckel and Negeli on Variation.’

Negeli refers variation to internal forces; Heckel to external forces

exclusively. Neither theory is a complete explanation of the facts. Negeli

offers a teleological explanation as causal, and Heckel calls in the grotesque

conception of the “atom soul” to aid his mechanical forces.

Gov. Smith was introduced to the Academy by Pres. Hoy. Gov. Smith

pleasantly responded.

“The Corals of Delafield” was the title of a paper read by I. M. Buel, of

Beloit. [See page 185.]

An interesting paper, entitled ‘‘Some Observations on the Recent Glacial

Deposits of Wisconsin and those of Switzerland,” was read by Prof. T.C.

Chamberlin, state geologist. The writer correlated the glacial deposits of

Wisconsin with those of Switzerland. Stereoscopic views of the glaciers in

Switzerland were left at the disposal of the audience.

The meeting adjourned at 12 o’clock.

THIRD SESSION.

December 28, 2 P. M.

The afternoon session was opened by a paper relating to “ Some Points in

the Geology of the Region about Beloit,” by Mr. G. D. Swezey, of Beloit

College.

The paper following this was entitled ‘‘The Penokee Fault,” by Prof. R. D.

Irving, of the State University.

The description of the “ fault ” was illustrated by a map showing that the

magnetic belt or iron ridge had upon one side of “ Bad river” slipped 800

feet below the corresponding ridge on the opposite side. Many interesting

facts were noted in connection with this displacement and the various

guesses as to the manner in which it had been produced were mentioned.

Prof. Chamberlin next gave a careful and graphic description of the tor-

nado which occurred May 23, 1878, in Western Wisconsin. Prof. Chamberlin

- was at Mineral Point with a party of explorers, and was able to watch the

phases of the storm and study the character of the cyclone. His remarks were

verbal, and prefaced the more elaborate description of the same storm ina

paper entitled ““The Retardation of Wind in Tornadoes,’ by Prof. Daniells,

of the University,

The history of the storm in Wisconsin was only a fraction of its history —

its terrestrial career. The signal service had traced its origin to the Pacific

coast. Tornado clouds were noticed in Texas, and various meteorological

disturbances observed in many regions remote from where the cyclone struck

the earth. Along the line of the storm —65 miles — people who noticed it

saw wind clouds moving from various quarters and coming together before

spending their fury on the earth, thus giving rise to the idea that it was here

Report of the Secretary. 323

that the storm originated. Sut Prof. Daniells is quite convinced that it was

here that it first struck the earth. The storm passed over 128 miles of space

in 4 hours time. The velocity was registered at various points along the

route and the retardation calculated. .The distribution of the debris was

noted.

The paper was discussed by Prof. Chamberlin, who took issue with Prof.

‘Daniells’ theory of the non-local origin of the cyclone.

The Academy adjourned at 4 o’clock to visit Science Hall, on invitation of

Pres. Bascom of the University. This building is admirably adapted for the

scientific work for which it has been erected.

FourtH SEssion.

December 28, 7:30 P. M.

The evening session was opened by the election of officers.

Dr. Chapin, of Beloit, was elected president. A resolution was adopted

providing for the immediate election ,of three vice presidents of the depart-

ments of Science, Arts and Letters, respectively, and for the postponement

of the election of the remaining department officers until the next meeting.

The following officers were then elected:

Vice President Department of Sciences — Prof. R. D. Irving, Madison.

Vice President Department of Arts — Hon. G. H. Paul, Milwaukee.

Vice President Department of Letters — Dr. G. M. Steele, Appleton.

General Secretary — Dr. J. E. Davies, Madison.

Treasurer — Hon. S. D. Hastings, Madison.

Curator of Cabinet — Prof. G. W. Peckham, Milwaukee.

Librarian — Dr. E. A. Birge, Madison.

A memorial of Dr. J. B. Feuling, written by Dr. S. H. Carpenter, was read

by Prof. Allen. This was followed by a paper by Mrs. A. W. Bate of Milwau-

kee on the “ Regime of the Nursery,” which indicated the proper regulations

for the nursery in order to secure the most beneficial results to young

children. The subject was considered under the heads of physical, ethical

aud intellectual culture. Physical culture is the basis of all; hygienic reg-

ulations should be carefully enforced. Hthical culture should be taught by

parental example. Responsibility should be gradually given to the child.

The very young child should never be crammed with book knowledge.

Make home a home.

The following amendment to the constitution was proposed by Prof. Allen

and laid over until the next meeting, under the rules:

Resolved, That section 3 of the constitution be amended so as to reduce the

number of departments to three, viz.:

Department of Sciences.

Department of Arts.

Department of Letters.

AnG that the existing amendment to eection 3 be repealed.

Adjourned.

824 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

FirtH SEssIoNn.

3 Maprson, December 29.

Academy met pursuant to adjournment. Vice Pres. Steele in the chair.

Dr. E. A. Birge elected secretary pro tem.

Report of Committee on the Treasurer’s Report made and accepted.

On motion the Academy proceeded to the election of the secretaries of the

several departments, the election of the remaining department officers being

postponed as by previous arrangement.

The following officers were elected :

Secretary of Department of Arts, Prof. J. J. Elmendorf of Racine.

Secretary of Department of Letters, Prof. W.J.L. Nicodemus of Madison.

Secretary of Department of Sciences, Prof. A. J. Rogers of Milwaukee.

The president, secretary and librarian were constituted a committee to

provide for the care of the museum and library with full powers.

Academy adjourned sine die.

TENTH REGULAR ANNUAL MEETING,

Held December 29,30 and 81,1879, at Madison, in the Senate Chamber of the

Capttol.

First SESSION.

Mapison, DECEMBER, 29, 1879.

The meeting was called to order by President Chapin at 7 o’clock, P. M.

Minutes of last meeting read and approved.

A committee of tive was appointed on the revision of the constitution and

by-laws of the Academy. Such committee consisted of Prof. J. E. Davies,

Prof. E. A. Birge, Prof. J. J. Elmendorf, Prof. T. C. Chamberlin and Dr. P.

R. Hoy.

Committee on Nominations was appointed, consisting of three members —

Prof. W. C. Whitford, Prof Alex. Kerr,and Hon 8. D. Hastings.

Dr. Birge submitted his report as Librarian, and recommended: Ist, that

printed labels be procured for the bound volumes and pamphlets of the

Academy’s library; and 2d, that a printed form of acknowledgment of gifts

to the library be secured. Report adopted.

Hon. S. D. Hastings submitted his report as Treasurer as follows:

TREASURER’S OFFICE,

Wis. Acap. S. A. AND L.,

Maoptison, Dec. 29, 1879.

Rev. A. L. Carty, D. D., Pres.:

Sir — The following is a statement of the financial condition of the

Academy at this date:

1879.

Jan. 13. Received from Gen. Geo. P. Delaplaine, former treasurer $703 19

Dec. 25. Received one year’s interest on permanent fund......... 70 00

37 73 19

Report of the Secretary. 025

Warrants duly signed by the President and Secretary have been paid as

follows:

1879.

Aaya, ash Ito IRieminy Nilo, Clee WIR) Gees cosncagueougoncudsonbad $12 50

Feb. 1. To H+nry Mason, wrappers, twine, etc.......... ....... 5 00

1. To Henry Mason, postage on 100 vois. Trans.... ...... 8 00

1. To David Mason, balance due on account, 1879.......... 8 55

17. To Henry Mason, postage..... Sept MORO ea saan Oe 8 00

LelopMemocraty mimting Com seriniciss a\elars/o) stele claiieve/ilciereiectel 5 25

Mar Gnmelo Menty: Mason CX PLeSSalen «o/c endee vee cre cicieleciee § 10 00

22 ee Lo elennry Nason CORK WLC a. te elelaie eos -rsteisloitielslslefelateiere 10 00

INO, 20, “Iie Ieleminiy Wilken, Cle liso cosgdosncandogudodsSu00000 12 00

i, Oo lsi@audy WIS, eGIRes «sodeonesdee Hepecoooosendas 14 25

May 24. To Henry Mason, package for London.................. 11 00

Sept. 2. To David Atwood, for programmes.............-eessee- 7 50

Oil, Ale MMO Wie dla JE vee, Tobie spec dqnoncondoosomoEpooeecdd Ge 43 50

NGNAN Chis] TaRI NS AS oo Soo ot pono Doda Cooos Oo CObudOOnDU eoo.--- $105 64

Total receipts, $773.19; balauce on inal $617.74.

The permanent fund of $1000 was loaned by my predecessor to Messrs.

Delaplaine & Burdick for the term of three years from the Ist day of Janu-

ary, 1878.

I hold their two notes of $500 each, secured by mortgage on 23 (twenty-

three) improved city lots in Madison.

The notes draw 7 per cent. interest, which has always been promptly paid.

Respectfully submitted,

SAMUEL D. HASTINGS,

Treasurer.

The report was referred to an auditing committee consisting of Messrs

Allen, Chamberlain, and Hoy.

The Academy then adjourned to meet in joint session with the State

Teachers’ Association in the Assembly Chamber. Dr. Chapin delivered an

address on the “ Nature and Methods of Science, with Thoughts on Teaching

Science,” before the joint session.

The place to begin teaching science is in the nursery with the child’s first

efforts at perception. The excellence of the teacher is measured by his

ability to inspire enthusiasm. The tools and machinery of the specific

branch of science under consideration should be placed in the hands of the

student that he may work out for himself the science, aided by hints from

his teacher. You cannot pour the conclusions of science into the mind as

you would water into a cup.

The time has come when Science is for the masses, and each must rely on

his own rational powers. Philosophy has broken the bars of her former

seclusion and walks forth in her own native strength and grace, courting the

acquaintance and confidence of all, that she may bless all alike, knowing no

favorites, except those who draw most largely from her open fountains of

truth.

The address finished, the joint session was declared adjourned.

SECOND SESssION.

TuEspay, December 30, 1879.

The Academy met at 9:30 A. M. in the Senate Chamber.

The following members were elected: Rev. A. A. Young, New Lisbon;

F. H. King, River Falls; L. C. Wooster, Whitewater; Prof. H. B. Perkins,

326 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

Appleton; Prof. C. W. Butterfield, Madison; Prof. R. C. Hindley, Racine;

I. M. Buell, Beloit.

Dr. J. J. Elmendorf of Racine College was elected vice-president for the

Department of Letters.

Mr. Hastings submitted the following amendment to the constitution:

To amend section 7 of the constitution by adding to division 1 the fol-

lowing:

The names of annual members who are two years in arrears for dues shall

be stricken from the roll of members, unless otherwise recommended by the

council.

The following preamble and resolutions were then offered by Mr. Hastings

and adopted:

WHEREAS: in consequence of there being no penalty prescribed in either

the constitution or the by-laws of the Academy for the non-payment of the

annual dues of members, and as no adequate provision has been made for

the collection of the same, a very considerable number of the members,

doubtless through inadvertency, have become largely indebted to the Acad-

emy for dues — the indebtedness amounting in some instances to over forty

doubt, result in the loss of some of our valuable members, therefore be it -

Resolved, That in all cases where members are in arrears to an amount ex.

ceeding five dollars, including the amount which will be due on the first day

of January, 1880, the treasurer be instructed to balance the accounts, carry-

ing forward to new accounts a balance of five dollars, and that he notify at

as early a day as convenient, all persons whose accounts have been so ad-

justed, informing them that on the receipt of said sum of five dollars they

will be clear upon the books to the first day of January, 188}.

Resolved, That hereafier it shail be the duty of the treasurer, within thirty

days of the close of each regular annual meeting, to notify all members who

are in arrears for annual dues, and also, that he report at each meeting of the >

Academy the names of all members whose accounts are not square upon his

books.

WHEREAS: The general secretary, the librarian and the curator of the

Museum have duties to perform in connection with their respective offices

for which no compensation is provided; therefore be it

Resolved, That the treasurer be instructed to credit the annval dues of the

persons holding the offices above named during the period they discharge the

duties of their respective offices.

WuEREAS, Several gentlemen who in former years have been active and

useful members of the Academy, have removed from the state and cannot,

therefore, be expected to continue the payment of their annual dues, and

WHEREAS, It is desirable that some connection be continued between the

Academy and the gentlemen referred to, therefore be it

esolved, That the following named gentlemen, formerly active members

of the Academy, be elected as corresponding members: Rev. G. M. Steele,

ex-president, Lawrence University; Rev. Bishop Sam’) Fallows, Chicago;

Col. 8. V. Shipman, Chicago; Judge J. G. Knapp, Florida; Rev. Chas. Ca-

verno, Lombard, Iil.; Rev. F. M. Holland, Massachusetts.

The following amendment to item 1, section 7 of the constitution, was also

submitted by Mr. Hastings:

That the fees of annual members be reduced to one dollar.

Prof. Irving read a paper upon the “ Higher Scientific Education,” urging

that it was of the utmost importance that the teacher of each branch

should he a specialist in it, even as to the implanting of the elementary ideas.

Adjourned,

Report of the Secretary. 327

THIRD SESSION.

December 30, 2:30 P. M.

The session opened with a paper by Prof. T. C. Chamberlain, on “A New

System of Nomenclature in Lithology.” [See page 234.| He afterwards

lectured in a very interesting manner upon the fossil tracks in the Potsdam

Sandstone of Wisconsin. [See page 276.]

Prof. Irving introduced Mr. Magnus Swenson, a student of the University,

who read an admirable paper, on “A Syenite from Grand Rapids, Wiscon-

sin,” illustrated by a diagram coloured to show the appearance of the Micro-

scopic section of polarized light. This paper was the fruit of much careful

original chemical and physical work.

Dr. Hoy read a paper on “ Menobranchus Lateralis,”’ illustrated by a spec-

Imen. [See page 248.]

A paper on “ Miracles in the Light of Modern Science and Philosophy,”

was read by Dr. J. J. Elmendorf, D. D., of Racine College. [See page 66.]

An able paper on “The Relation of Woman’s Suffrage to Society and

Domestic Life,” was read by Mrs. Olympia Brown Willis, of Racine.

During this session a special session of the Department of Natural Sciences

was held at Science Hall, where Prof. R. D. Irving lectured on the “ Micro-

scope in Geology,” illustrated by the aid of the Calcium light.

Adjourned.

FouRTH SESSION.

December 30, 7:30 P. M.

The Academy met in joint session with the Teacher’s Association in the.

Assembly Chamber, and listened to a most interesting lecture on “The Arts

of Engraving and Etching,” by Prof. James McAllister, of Milwaukee, |

illustrated by numerous examples from the great masters.

Adjourned.

Firth SEssION.

December 31, 9 P. M.

Academy met in the Senate Chamber.

Routine business transacted.

The following is the programme of papers read:

“On the Economic Principles of the Distribution of Profits,’ by Prof. A.

O. Wright, Fox Lake. [See page 38.|

“Wealth, Capital and Credit,” by Prof. J. B. Parkinson, Madison. [See

page 46.]

“Food Adulterations,” by I. M. Buell, Beloit.

“The English Cottagers in the Middle Ages,” by Prof. W. F. Allen, Madi-

gon. [See page 1.]

Adjourned.

SixTH SESSION.

SENATE CHAMBER, December 31, 2 P. M.

Prof. W. W. Danielis made some remarks on the “ Recent Results in the

Decomposition of the Elements.”

328 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

Charles I. King of the University followed on the Heeroma Value and —

Analysis of Indicator Diagrams.

Prof. J. D. Butler presented a paper on the “ draé Aeyomeva of Shakes-

pere.” [See page 161.]

Adjourned.

SEVENTH SESSION.

December 31, 7:30 P. M.

The academy met in joint session with the Teacher’s Association to listen

to an exposition of the “Methods of Instruction of the Deaf and Dumb,”

by W. H. DeMotte, L. L. D., illustrated by class and individual exercises by

pupils from the state institute at Delavan.

President Chapin followed with a few remarks, and the meeting adjourned

sine die.

ELEVENTH REGULAR ANNUAL MEETING,

Held in the Agricultural Rooms of the Capitol, at Madison, December 28, 29 and -

30, 1880.

First SEssIon.

TuESDAY Evrenina, December 28, 7:30, P. M.

In the absence of President Chapin, Prof. R. D. Irving, Vice-president of

the Department of Sciences, called the Academy to order.

Prof. J. H. Davies, secretary, read the minutes of the previous meeting.

Report accepted after a few minor corrections.

Hon. 8. D. Hastings submitted his report as treasurer of the Academy, as

follows:

Maprson, December 28, 1880.

Report of the treasurer of the Wisconsin Academy of Science, Arts and

Letters for the year 1880:

1879.

Dec. 30>) Balance(on hand-asiper last ineport. esse eerie $617 64

Decks 0seheceivedstromulinC VWioosterseemecer a ceeerereenaoee 5 00

Dec. 80. Received from Alex. Kerr ..62.....05..c.0cc00e0 eee 5 00

Dec. 30. Received from Ira M. Buell ............. PE eR Aialeas e 5 00

Dec; 30 Received strom yAt pus, @hiapimierre iste stecteleleloialesteisiel= Boo so6 5 00

iDYxG, Bey creaikeol sion Sy IDS Jeeta so oocaccoo oooobodusecoood oo 5 00

Decws0: | eceived from PACA pYOuUn ees omensieee cca emer 5 00

Deesrsl. Received from A C1C@hamiberlinkeenneccecicece cece: 3 00

Wec role heceived tromubwh Ove aeeenece cen toe 5 00

Dec. 31. Received from D. B. Fiaukenbaeeer Saleisiislei telaicteceteR ier 5 00

IDyaxo, Bil, Ieoaireel hroyor Wye INE IMG 6 oka nooodooosaonoboadoses 4 00

Decals aenecalved trom Wisi Cy Sawiyiel wseeeise aici icicle ieisiereeetele 5 00

eee ol neceivedstrom Lucius) Herifacensemrice ceeds seen ene 5 00

1880.

Alertig Sh TROSIN ACL ioral df, IBY IETHER Gb os no dhaacnodbuoo6oeouDD 5 5 00

JiNOH Re CenVednom!: WELAG En IVOnnisierererciteieicirs eicicererceieeiciens 5 00

ewe Gy IRGesiy ee) iron Vac Shibelks ooogsadcsugduaoedende Hoo as 3 00>

Jiant19) Received ifromih. Gavkeach amma sneici teeta wisisieleniceistcls 5 00

Jans os Vecelvedmnomae Ge Miecach an eirneeimcie ici clecteleieeeiet: 5 00

Jarl Owe C CLVECMTOTMPE Epes ails Nip eeptvaletettereretereieieteisteletetonetete 5 00

Jan. 10. Received from B. EB. Hutchinson..............6....--. 5 06

Jan ON MREceivedmnromayVeneieu smut heoeeepeteteerereirelciteetenictemere 5 00

Report of the Secretary. 529

1880.

anh OFemhnecenvedetromiebimensonmcacnsceeiaeececeniecereore: $5 00

Jan. 10. Received from Thure Kumlien ..................-.... 5 00

JAnheeleeeecelved {rom Minss iN le rAG Sit cieleecee eet 3 00

Nam, 1B, INecennecl foram Jie WW UIOMGS poconoanucoscodocoscuoe 5 00

Jan. 13. Received from W. OC. Whitford .......... SA UNL teen 5 00

dipin, WS, laveerel aon, 18. S) Orion S55 deegoaooeecd SAO Stacie ts 5 00

diam, Wes IRkecahyeul tino JJ. INOW@assoconoo0pasHodunocoD0douGKS 5 00

davn, ist Leecerhyeol spronin \y/a lee WKelbRaNgoosged Hoodoacuosouuoas 3 00:

digra, iS IRewataxel worn Olnaic, A\y AEME GoddogcosoGo Goboaodbe- 5 00

Jan 1d. dreceived trom) Mi: He Simmons ..o.00.c:2+ orccossss se 5 00

DAME CELVEGeshOMeSOlOM Alans mrcmtere cise cleleicis sleiere/a erctelerests 5 00

Jan. 13: Received from Mrs. Geo. Gordon ............-+-- vse 3 00

dain, Be, Ihecoakvnadl trom 18L JB. IRSlKiimgesodone co socono4odogubaN 5 00

Jan. eo. keceived from Henry Sueiding. <6... ..-csccces- <5. 5 00

Jan. 23. Received from Marion Y. Dudley..... ..... ......... 5 00

Jan. 23. Received from Delaplaine & Burdick, interest......... 4 22

Jan. 23. Received from Delaplaine & Burdick, two notes each

OL OKO ANGI ones st ants AIS A To aire ae Re Se ee eee 1,000 00

dain, BB, -lReeertvacl tropa IB, Wyo ebANGin bo anon ecooonn cdoosaue 5 00

Jane 29, Received trom) Henry Beaty concise vctese) weccace ee « 5 00

Feb. 4. Received from John Bascom ...............0-0e-se0.- 5 00

Hebe Received trom Jide HEimendonk sec ciieiecsineeclesce nels « 5 00

Mebuel2qnecei ved trom) Hy vee Komp... cheranietetsicletesiete) slelelereraie'-> 5 00

Mar. 8. Keceived from Mrs. Sarah F. Dean ..................- 5 00

Aus lOumivecelved from, Mis. O: By Willi ghmecret tates <)<'ololesicielelele') +1 3 00

Ociaininecellv.edsiroml He Wie AcuHalliikapsoeeresierisieiereraceieicsienterce 5 00

Oct. 19" Received from Ry Di Irving sy... ci = ce HO ete Ab Bca.ais 5 00

INiovANDainecelved fromiJiass) Dy) Butlers. cece cess ccceecle scsi: 5 00

Deci OEE ceived afrom ava OnvAII emis srciiscisigvel stories sleteron cise helene 5 00

Declan ecelveduiromeEOwsyVViesCOttqucmaceieniclmciiicetciiscric 8 00

Dec: 1G) Received from Mary iJ. Lapham 2.002020. o. o ee es 3 00

Dec. 16. Received from Mrs D. A. Olim.............ecccceesss 3 00

Dee: IY, levsesinyael limon Creo, Ieee. sodscaccogdoKod0cacundcde 5 00

Dee. Ish IRecehvec! rows 1s IEG IDEN? $6 66545 ooo ds bocuoodeonboddG 3 00

Decw2ieeAccelved: irom diy Ce Draper s acl sjeleisejelclalalera+/elclelsloreliciere 5 00

Dec wu aecelved! (romeytya Cy ENUaG eye sare cla)s)-10 «)elclslele~ clolela sielae)- 5 00

Dag, Bio Wtxoaryeol iixoyocy Yo VVvn IDEN) B65 GéGbouusnoee odcous 3 00

Meer 2a Received irom ey Hendriekson)..oseeeesde ced ss cess 5 00

Mo tale Sits! -hajecavs aaielive cietes Siena sie) aves olapelaisicis cistecstale: everstennieveie’e $1,882 86

Disbursements.

Payments on the order of the President and Secretary have been made as

follows:

1879.

Dec. 30. To Henry Mason (current expenses)..... Q00.000900000 po 00

Dec. 30. To Henry Mason (clerk hire)......... S06 box000. 60008 5 00

1880.

Dec30: 7 To AY LE: Chapin ((POstage) iam. ce eslee isis poles es «et 1 00

HMebwe O40) Renmrament pen yey oss waercosmee asin erevereiele ecee crore seis 1,000 00

E> USE WOE AL, IBibRAS (DOMME) coaccoasuncoocodoooEBocUedoDo 2 50

luisa, ke, Atoy Wolo Jamiel ea Cos (olahines) .ooonoouseoosnoesecnan 65 25

duileves, 105), Aho) Joi, Jake: Levorats (Ede OREN) Sb olbocaccaddecn ‘sbuoUbauon 1 85

vune 91. Lo MM: J. Cantwelli\(printinig)) ja... 2 eee Ue ere 12 00

July 2. Yo David Mason (expenses) -..............-$.6-.---%- 10 00

Dec. 28. To Julius Nelson (clerk hire and expenses).........- 56 12 20

Roalidishursementigneirics awe cae eee oieieaccua eee $1,114 80

Deduct from receipts above leaves balance on hand Dec. 28, 1880. 768 06

Respectfully submitted,

SamugL D. Hastines, Treas.

3380 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

The report was referred to the Finance committee, consisting of Prof. W.

W. Danells, Hon. Burr Jones and Gen. Geo. Delaplaine.

The paper announced for the evening was not read, owing to the absence

of the author, Mrs. Willis.

The Academy then adjourned to listen to the address of Pres. Bascom, of -

the State University, before the state teachers’ association.

SECOND SESSION.

Wednesday, December 29, 9:30 A. M.

Academy called to order by the treasurer, Hon. 8. D. Hastings, he being

the only officer present. On motion of Prof. W. F. Allen, Dr. P. R. Hoy was

elected to the chair, and Prof. A. O. Wright elected secretary pro tem.

Tne report of Prof. E. A. Birge, librarian, was presented by Julius Nelson,

acting librarian, and was adopted.

The following resolution was offered by Hon. 8S. D. Hastings:

WHEREAS, Prof. J. H. Davies and Gen. Geo. P. Delaplaine have rendered

some eight years valuable service to the Academy, the first named as gen-

eral secretary and the other as treasurer, therefore as an acknowledgment of

our appreciation of their faithful labors they are hereby elected life members

of the Academy.

The resolution was referred to a committee consisting of Hon. 8S. D. Hast-

ings, Hon. Burr Jones and Prof. T. C. Chamberlin, who were to report on

the legality of adopting the resolution.

Prof. Butler read a paper on “The French Pioneers of the Northeeah Bs

[See page. 85.]

Discussed by Prof. A. O. Wright, Prof. W. F. Allen and the chair.

Academy adjourned until 2 o’clock.

THIRD SESSION.

December 29, 2 P. M.

Prof. R. D. Irving in the chair.

Several names were proposed for membership and referred to the com-

mittee on Nomination.

A paper was presented by Mr. J. C. Arthur, of the Oniversity, on ‘ The

True Form of Pollen Grains,” to which he appended a paper on ‘“ The Vari-

ous Forms of Trichomes of Echinocystis lobata.”’ Both papers were illus-

trated by drawings. In the first Mr. Arthur contended that in general the

observations upon pollen grains are made when these have lost a considera-

able portion of their moisture and are consequently wrinkled. Inthe second

he showed the many and curious forms which the vegetable cell assumes in

the hairs or down upon the leaves, stem and fruit of the plant.

Prof. T. C. Chamberlain, of Beloit, state geologist, gave a lecture illustrated

by drawings, on ‘A New Element in the Preliminary Estimates for Artesian

Wells.”

The professor held that the water contained freely in the microscopic

crevices of rocks would, when these lay above the valley, give a resultant

pressure which must be recognized in determining the height to which the

water would rise in an Artesian well. Prof. J. E. Davies took exceptions to

Report of the Secretary. 331

this, maintaining that the capillary attraction would neutralize all the down-

ward pressure. The paper was further discussed by Dr. Hoy, Prof. Irving

and Prof. Wooster. Prof. A. O. Wright concluded the diseussion by calling

attention to certain metamorphic rocks in Vernon county not noticed in the

State Geological Survey.

Prof. T. C. Chamberlain read a paper on “‘ Recent Pseudomorphic and

Chemical Changes in the Minerals of the Lead Region” illustrated by spec-

imens. The paper was discussed by Prof. Daniells.

Prof, Daniells reported for the finance commityee that the treasurer’s report

had been audited and found correct.

Report adopted.

A motion was carried that the treasurer be included with those officers who

are relieved from their annual dues.

The nominating committee consisting of Hon. 8. D. Hastings and Prof.

Alex. Kerr, recommended the ‘following persons as annual members: J. M.

Olin, Madison; Dr. U. P. Stair, Black Harth; C. F. Viebahn, Manitowoc.

The above named persons were elected.

The following amendment was carried:

To amend item 1, section 7 of the constitution, so that it shall read as

follows:

1st. Annual members who shall pay an initiation fee of two dollars and

thereafter an annual fee of one dollar.

The following resolutions were adopted:

WuHerREAs, The initiation fee for membership has heen reduced to two

dollars and the annual dues to one dollar, therefore

Resolved, (1) That any person, who in previous years has been elected to

membership to the Academy but who has not consummated his or her mem-

bership by the payment of the initiation fee, be allowed to do so by the

payment of two dollars.

Resolved, (2) That the treasurer be authorized to balance the account of any

old member of the Academy to the first day of January, 1882, on the pay-

ment of two dollars.

The treasurer was instructed to devise a plan for equalizing the amounts

paid by the members as annual dues to conform with the new rules.

Hon. G. H. Paul, vice president, in the absence of the president was re-

quested to make the annual report to the governor of the state.

It was suggested that the letter of the law be more closely adhered to than

formerly, viz.: that the report be annual instead of semi-occasional.

FourtTH SESSION.

December 29, 7:20 P. M.

Academy called to order.

Prof. R. D. Irving in the chair.

The Academy listened to a paper by Capt. John Nader, city surveyor of

Madison, on the “ Tides.” The paper was illustrated by numerous drawings

and a new co-tidal map. [See page 207.]

FirtH SEssion.

December 30, 9:30 A. M.

Academy called to order by Dr. J. E. Davies.

On motion of Prof. Butler Dr. Hoy was called to the chair.

332 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Aris, and Letters.

Minutes of preceding meeting read and adopted.

The following report of Hon. 8. D. Hastings was read and adopted:

The undersigned having been appointed to devise some plan by which the

members of the Academy who have been longest in connection therewith

and have borne the chief burden of its financial support in the past may be

placed somewhat upon an equality with the members now coming into the

Academy at the greatly reduced rates for initiation fees and annual dues,

would suggest the following: ;

That tte treasurer ascertain the amount paid into the treasury of the

Academy by the preseut members, and also ascertain the amount they would

have been required to pay in case the initiation fee and annual dues at the -

organization of the Academy had been what they now are and then ascertain

what each member has paid in excess of what he would have paid had the

fees and dues been at the present rate. and that he credit each member on

his annual dues for the future one year for each two dollars he has paid in

excess as above stated; provided, that in the case of members who are now

in arrears in the payment of their annual dues, two dollars shall be deducted

from the amount of the excess payment. Respectfully submitted,

8. D. HASTINGS.

A motion was carried to the effect that hereafter the initiation fee be ac-

cepted by the treasurer as covering the dues of the new members for the first

year.

Hon. O. 8. Wescott presented the necessity existing for the appointment of

a state entomologist, and introduced the following preamble and resolutions,

which were carried:

WHEREAS, The State of Wisconsin suffers annually from the depredations

of noxious insects to an extent measured by a loss of not less than fifteen or

twenty millions of dollars; and,

WHEREAS, It is the part of the wisest economy to expend money for the

prevention, rather than cure; therefore,

Resvived (1), That the Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters

hereby earnestly recommend to the legislature of the state the appointment

of some competent scientific person, whose time and service shall be entirely

devoted to investigating the insects of the state, and communicatiog the re

sults of such investigation to the people thereof in the interest of her agri-

culture, her hortitulture and her forestry.

Resolved (2), That Gen. Geo. E. Bryant, Prof. W. W. Daniells and Hon. 8.

D. Hastings be requested to act as a committee to take this matter in charge,

and secure, if possible, proper legislative action thereon.

To this committee were added Prof. O.S. Wescott and Prof. T. C. Cham-

berlin.

The secretary and Prof. Wescott were elected a committee to advise with

the officers of the State Teacher’s Association with regard to joint sessions of

that Association and the Academy, or other means of working in common

for the advancement of education in the state.

The summer meeting was appointed to be held in Appleton at sueh a date

as would be fixed by correspondence by the secretary.

Prof, A. O. Wright, Prof. J. D. Butler and Prof. J. E. Davies were made a

committee on the publication of the proceedings of the Academy.

Dr. Hoy read a paper on the “ Hygiene of Drinking Water.”

Prof. O. 8. Wescott, of Racine, read a paper on the “Orthoépy and Ety-

mology of Entomological Names.”

Discussed by Professors Allen, Wooster, Parkinson and Wescott.

The Academy adjourned sine die.

Report of the Secretary. Si)

THIRD SEMI-ANNUAL MEETING,

Held at Appleton, Wis., July 5 and 6, 1881.

APPLETON, July 5, 1881.

The Academy met in the College buildings.

In the absence of the president and the vice-presidents, Prof. W. F. Allen

~was elected president pro ten.

In the absence of the secretary, Prof. A. O. Wright was elected secretary

‘pro tem.

Prof. Allen and Hon. 8. D. Hastings were made a committee on Nomina-

tions, to whom were referred several names for membership.

Rev. 8. D. Peet of Clinton, delivered an address on “ Buffalo Drives among

tne Mound Builders,” which was illustrated by charts.

APPLETON, July 6, 1881.

Academy called to order.

Acting president Prof. Allen in the chair.

The following persons were elected members: Rev. Stephen Bowen, Clin-

ton, Wis.; Wm. Jones, Clinton, Wis.; W. H. Beach, Beloit, Wis.

Prof. A. O. Wright offered the following resolution, which was adopted:

Resolved, That the Publication Committee be authorized to expend a sum

not to exceed eighty dollars for engravings for the forthcoming volume of

the transactions in addition te the amount allowed by the state.

The following resolution also offered by Prof. Wright, was adopted:

Resolved, That the librarian be authorized to expend one hundred dollars

for binding.

Prof. W. C. Sawyer of Appleton, gave an unwritten address upon the

“Phonetic Hlements of German,”’ which was discussed by Prof. A. O. Wright

and Rev. 8. D. Peet.

“The Prehistoric Architecture of America’ was the title of a paper read

by Rev. S. D. Peet of Clinton. [See page 290.] The paper was discussed by

Prof. Wright and Prof. Allen.

The Academy adjourned until the afternoon.

The afternoon session was opened by a paper by W. H. Beach on the

“Limits of Thought,” discussed by Prof. Wright, Prof. Sawyer, Dr. Hoy and

Dr. Meacham.

A paper on ‘“‘Shakespeare as a Cicerone,’’ by Prof. J. D. Butler of Madi-

son, was read in his absence by Prof. A. O. Wright.

Dr. R. Hoy of Racine, followed wit a paper on “The Growth of Trees.”

The Academy adjourned sine die.

LIBRARY CATALOGUE.

REPORT OF LIBRARIAN.

Mapison, December 29, 1881.

To the President of the Wisconsin Academy:

Str: Ihave the honor to submit the following report of the state of the

library of the Wisconsin Academy of Sciences at date.

Having been left in charge of the library during the absence of Dr. Birge

in Europe, it has fallen to me as clerk of the Academy to prepare a list of the

additions to the library since the publication of Vol. IV.

Vol. IV contains a catalogue of the library, but owing to the increase of

the library and to the errors, omissions and other faults of this catalogue

naturally accompanying a first attempt to bring order out of the chaos of

publication in various languages which had accumulated, it was not found

a practical guide to the librarian in the distribution of our own publications.

Moreover, many publications had made their way upon the shelves without

the knowledge of the librarian, so it became necessary to recatalogue the

library. In connection with this work, the publications themselves have

been classified and arranged so faras our limited accommodations would

admit.

The use of the catalogue to the librarian has been made the primary aim

in its preparation. For this reason there remain considerable possibilities

of improvement in other directions; but to have made these would have re

quired more labor than could profitably be expended at this time. When

the library snall have grown to be the repository of the leading scientific

memories of contemporary progress, and our specialists who are able to read

all the modern EKuropean languages, more numerous, then a catalogue which

can be used as a subject-index, will be in order.

That the library may increase healthily, it is essential that the librarian or

his clerk, first, receive all the gifts sent to the Academy; secondly, that he

Keep a journal of such donations; and thirdly, that he acknowledge their re-

ceipt. These three points really govern the methods which may be used by

the acting librarian, the importance of which can be fully appreciated only

by one who has attempted to fulfil the duties of this office. These points

have been neglected in a measure and the consequences have been three fold.

First, we receive but one-half as much matter as could be received ; secondly,

many parts which have been sent us are not now upon our shelves. Wherever

I could obtain direct knowledge of such fact, the catalogue has been made

to include such parts, out of simple justice to the donors. It may be taken

336 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

as a general rule that where a series is tolerably complete as seen from the

catalogue, all was at some time sent us; and thirdly, many societies entitled

to them, lack our transactions in whole or in part.

To give an idea of the size of our library which began but ten years ago,

I will state that it crowds about 160 feet of shelving.

All complete volumes are either bound and labelled or are in process of

binding. ‘

The catalogue includes no publications received later than Jan. 1, 1882, a

which time new officers, including librarian, had entered upon their duties.

Foreign exchanges are effected through the mediation of the Smithsonian

Institution, Washington, D. C.

It 1s customary with most foreign societies to send with each donation a

printed notice and a blank form for acknowledgment, to be returned to the

donor signed. I would recommend that with the donations made in connec-

tion with this volume, we have something similar printed which shall con-

tain a list of our publications, from which all those parts received by the

societies may be checked off. The returned slip will enable us to give said

societies its lacking volumes. In this connection, we might also send list of

parts Jacking in our library to the society concerned.

Respectfully submitted,

Juuius Newson, Clerk for

KH. A. Brran, Librarian.

PUBLICATIONS OF LEARNED SOCIETIES NOW IN

THE LIBRARY OF THE ACADEMY.

DENMARK.

KyOBENHAVN —

Det kongelige danske Videnskabernes Selskab.

Oversigt over Forhandlingerne, 1874 to 1881. Bul. Soc. danois

de la Copenhagne, 76; 1 and 2, V7; 1.

NORWAY.

KRISTIANIA —

Kk. Norske Videnskabs Selskab og Frederiks Universitet.

Die Culturpflanzen Norwegens— Schiibeler, program, Ist Semester,

62.

Remarkable Forms of Deep Sea Life — M. & G. O. Sars, Ist Semest.,

69.

Recherches Chronologie Egyptienne — Lieblein, Ist Sem., '72.

Skuringsmaerker — Kjerulf, II Sem., "72.

Egyptischen Denkmaler — Lieblein, I Sem., 74.

QGriindtraezkene i den Aeldste Norske Process — Hertzberg, I Sem.,

"74,

| Report of the Librarian.

KRiIsTIana — continued.

Enumeratio Insectorum Norvegicorum, I to IV; Siebke, Ist Sem.,

DAL Tite) ETc

Transfusion u. Plethora — Miiller, I Sem., ’75.

Rem. Forms Animal Life, No. 2, Brisinga,—G. O. Sars, IId S. %5.

Pflanzenwelt Norwegens — Schiibbeler, IInd Sem., ’%5.

Windrosen Siidlichen Norwegens —Seue, Ist Sem., ’76.

Etudes les Mouvements de l’Atmosphere — I, Guldberg & Mohn,

IInd Sem., "76.

Poncelet’s Betydninug for Geometrien — Holst, I Sem., 79.

Beretning om nogle landbrugschemiske Undersdgelser ved Aas

hdiere Landbrugsskole — Rosing, 1870.

Det Norske Landbrugs Historie, 1815 to 1870 — Smitt, ’76.

Stratifikationens Spor — Kjerulf, 1877.

Runelndskriften paa Ringen i Forsa Kirke — Bugge, 77.

Department for det Indre.

Aarberetning, Landbrugets Fremme, 1875.

Indberetninger, 1858, 1864.

Norges Officielle Statistic, No. 6. Landbiipekolen i i Aas, 1868-70.

Beretning om Landbrugskolen i Aas, 1870-71.

Beretning om Landbrugskolen i Aas, 1871-2.

Beretning om Landbrugskolen i Aas, 1874-5.

Polyteknisk Tidskrift —Térkehus for Korn — Dahl, 1867.

Rugekasser for smaafugle — Collett, 1870.

Beretning fra Agronom —T. Wiel, 1855.

Les Peches de la Norwege — Baars, Expos. Univ. Paris, 1867.

Beretning om Ladegaardsoens Hovedgaard, ’62-3.

Anden Beretning om Ladegaardsoens Hovedgaard, I, 72; II, '75.

Meteorologiske Institut.

Norges Vind og Storm Statistik — Prof. H. Mohn, 1869.

Den Norske Nordhavsexpedition, 1876-78. (Hditorial Committee for.)

Chemi, Torn6e.

Zoologi, Fiske, Coilett.

Gephyrea, Danielssen og Koren.

SWEDEN.

StockHOLM —

K. Svenska Vetanskaps Akademi.

Ofversigt 6fver Forhandlingarne, XX XIII, 1876.

Bihang til Handlingarnze, ITI, 76.

Handlingar, XI, °%2; XIII, °%5; XIV, part 1, 75.

UrsaLa —

K. Svenska Vetanskaps Academi.

Handlingar, II, 70. Plates XI, 72; XIII, 74; XIV, 75.

Nova Acta Reg. Soc. Scientiarum, IX, 74-5. XI, 76; II, 79.

Nova Acta Reg. Soc. Scientiarum, Volumen extra, 1877.

888 Wasconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

UpsaLa — continued.

L. ’Observatoire de Universite d’Upsal.

Bulletin IV-VII, ’72-75; VIII, 76; IX, 77.

RUSSIA.

HELSINGFORSs — >

Finska Vetenskaps Societat.

Forhandlingar, 70-71.

Ofversigt, XIV, 71, ’72.

“ Natur och Folk,” XVII, XVIII, XIX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XXIV,

XXXII.

Finland’s Officiela Statistik, V, 1, 1846-65.

Acta Societatis Scientiarum Fennicae, IX, X, XI.

Observationes magnetiques et meteorologique de soc.

des sciences de Finlande, V, ’73.

Observationes Meteorologique, 1873, 1878.

Gediichtnissrede auf Alex. Nordman, ’67.

Sr. PeTERsBURG —

K. Akademie der Wissenschaften.

Journey to Turkestan, XI, 4.

Recherches Zoographique, II, 5.

Annalen des Physikalisches Central-Observatoriums, 1874, 75, 76, 77, 78,

JE 0G 87 ANG

Repertorium fiir Meteorologie. H. Wild, 1874; I,°75; I1, %6; III,

77: TV, 1 and supp. 2, °78; V, 1 and 2,’79; VI, 1 and 2,’80; VII,

1,and supplement in two parts, ‘“‘ Die Temperatur Verhiiltnisse des

Russisch. Reichs,” with Atlas, 1879.

Acta Horti Petropolitani (K. Botanischer Garten.)

I to VII each in 2 parts (Supplem. to III, 2), 1871-80.

K. Freie Okonomische Gesellschaft.

Mittheilungen, °55, 2-6; °56, 1-5; ’57, 1, 2, 4-6: ’58, 1, 2, 4-6; °59,

1-4, 6; °60, 4,6; ’61, 1-6; 63, 1, 3-6.

AUSTRO-HUNGARIAN EMPIRE.

AgRram — ;

Akademie der Wissenschaften u. Kunsten.

Abhandlungen, XXVIII, 74.

BrRUNN —

Naturforschender Verein.

Katalog der Bibliothek.

Verhandlungen, XII to XIV, 738-5; XVII, XVIII, 78, "9.

Prag —

K. Bohmische Gesellschaft der Wissenschaft.

, Sitzungsbericht, ’79, ’80.

Jahresbericht, ’78, ’80. ‘

Cat. des fossiles Siluriennes (Soc. de Boheme).

freport of the’ Librarian. 339

Prag —

Joachim Barrande.

Cephalopodes, II, ’77.

Brachiopodes, V, 79.

Defense des Colonies, V, ’81.

WIEN —

K, Akad. der Wissenschaften.

Sitzungsberichte, Math. Naturw. Classe.

I. Abtheilung: mineral., bot., zool., geol., paleont.

IT. Abtheiluag: math., phys., chem., mech., meteor., astron.

ITT. Abtheilung: physiol., anatn., medicin.

Band, LX; LXI: Adth., FT, IT; LXII: I, 1-8, TI, 1-8; LXVI: I,

TT EI RNG to) ee) RCV TN i LEDER DIG, 1AL9 1Ox6 6

J; 1-5, Ff, 1-5, ITT, 1-5; LXXT: TEC IS TT sTROXGING« IIT; LXXV:

Ih JS WO ts TALE RODS Ih 1-5, IT, 4-5; LXXX: J, 1-5, I,

1-5, 177, 1-5; LXXXI: TF, 1-3, IT, 1-3 —’69 to ’80.

Anzeiger, 1875 to 1881 each, XXVI to XXIX parts.

Misc.: Catalogue livres de fonds sciences medicinales, ’67.

Austria at the International Exhibition — Arenstein.

Urtheile itiber Gremers Schreibhefte fiir Volkschulen.

K. Zoologisch-Botanische Gesellschaft.

Verhandlungen, XX to XXX, 70-80, except XXI, XXII.

K. K. Geologisch-Reichsanstalt.

(Institut Geologique D’Autriche.) Exposition universelle de Paris “

1867.

K. K. Landwirthschaft. Gesellschaft.

_Verhand. V, 1,2; VI, 1, 2. 705, 756.

GERMANY.

Born —

Naturhistorischer Verein der Preussischen Rheinlande und West-

falens.

Verhandlungen XXVII, 1870, 1 and 2; XXIX, 2; XXX to XXXVIII,

1 and Sup. 1881. ‘

Niederrheinische Gesellschaft.fur Natur u. Heilkunde.

Sitzungsbericht, 1876, pp. 80 to 225 missing.

Westfalens Correspondenzblatt. No. LARC re

BRAUNSCHWEIG —

Verein fur Wissenschaften.

Jahresbericht, 79, °80.

BREMEN —

Naturwissenschaftlicher Verein.

Abhandlungen ITI, 73, 8te J ahresb.; IV, 74, 75; V, V6 to 78, parts

1-4; VI, 1 to 3, 1880; VII, 1, 2, 81.

Beilage, Nos. 2-8, °71 to °79,

340 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Aris, and Letters.

BRESLAU —

Schlessische Gesellschaft fur Vaterlandische Cultur.

Jahresbericht, LI to LVIII, ’%3 to ’88.

Abhandlungen, 73-4. Register 1804-76.

Fortsetzung der Verzeichnisse.

Danzia —

Naturforschende Gesellschaft.

Schriften, 1871, II 3, to 81, V 2, exc. 738, III 1.

DRESDEN —

“Tsis.” Naturwissenschaftliche Gesellschaft.

Sitzungsberichte, 74, Apr.-Sept.; 75, Jan.Jun., Jul—Dec.; 76, Jul—

Dec.; 77, Jan.—Mar.; °78, Jan.—Jul.; 79, Jul—Dec.; ’80, Jan.—Jul.,

Juwl.—Dec.; ’81, Jan.—Jun.

Diekau, “‘ Die Kaukasuslinder.”” Schneider.

K. Blinden Anstalt.

Jahresbericht, 1859.

K. Deutsche Leopoldinisch-Carolinische Akademie der Naturforscher.

Abhandlungen, 1876.

ELDENA —

K. Akademie der Wissenschaften.

Katalog der Universitit Greifswald, 1870.

EMDEN —

Naturforschende Gesellschaft.

Jahresbericht, 56 to 65,°1870 to ’80.

Kleine Schriften, XV to XVIII.

FRANKFURT —

Aertztlicher Verein.

Jahresbericht, XXII, 1878.

FRANKFURT A. M.—

Naturforschende Gesellschaft.

Jahresbericht, VI, 1, °77-’8; 2, 79-80.

FREIBURG —

Naturforschende Gesellschaft.

Bericht iiber Verhand., VI, 1 and 4, ’74-’%6.

GIESSEN —

Oberhessiche Gesellschaft fur Natur u. Heilkunde.

Bericht, XV to XX, 1876 to ’81.

GOTTINGEN —

K. Gesellschaft der Wissenschaft und George upuete Universitat.

Nachrichten, 1877 to ’81.

GoRLITz —

Naturhistoriche Gesellschaft.

Abhandlungen, XV to XVII, ’%5 to ’81.

Report of the Inbrarian. 341

HALE —

Zeitschrift der Gesammten Naturwissenschaften der Universitat,

C. G. Giebel, Redaktor.

1874: TX, 1-6; X, 7-12; 75: XI, XII; 76: XIII, XIV; 78, 2-9; 79,

1-6; °80, 3-6.

Hanover —

Polytechnische Hochschule.

Program, 1873 to 1881.

HEIDELBERG —

Naturhistorischer u. Medicicinischer Verein.

Verhandlungen, Neue Folge, I: 1, 2, 3,5; II: 8, 4; III: 1874~81.

JENA —

Gesellschaft fur Medicin u. Naturwissenschaften.

Jenaische Zeitschrift, X, 1876.

Denkschriften, II, 1, 2, 1878.

KARLSRUHE —

Polytechnische Schule.

Program 1872, 7 to ’79.

KIEL —

Schriften der Universitat

1856 to 1881 exc. 1877 and 79; also thirty-one ‘“ Dissertations’ for

1881.

KONIGsBERG —

Physikalisch Okonomische Gesellschaft.

Schriften, 1873; 14th year, I and II abtheilung to 1880, I.

LErezie —

Verein fur Erdkunde.

Mittheilungen 1878, ’80. Prospektus Botanisches Centralblatt.

Katalog Deutscher Zeitschriften — Kohler.

MANNHEIM —

Verein fur Naturkunde.

Jabresbericht, XXXVI to XXXIX, 1870 to 74.

Mertz —

Academie de Metz.

Bulletin Mensuel, 1871-2, °72-8, etc., to 1875-6.

Tables Generales, 1819, ’71.

Societe d’Histoire Naturelle.

Bul. XIII, 1.

Mincuen —

K. Baierische Akademie der physikalischen Wissenschaften.

Sitzungsberichte, ’70, 1-2; °74, 1-2; °75, 1-8; °76, 1-3; °77, 1-3; °%8,

1-4; ’79, 1-4; °80, 1-4; ’81, 1-4; °82, 1.

Festreden u. Denkschriften, °70, 78, ’74, 75, °77, "78, °80.

K. Sternwarte bei M.

Annalen, XX ’74 and XXY.

842 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

Nteneerc —

Naturhistorische Gesellschaft.

Abhandlungen, 4, ’67, VI and VII, ’77 and ’81.

OBERPFALZ U. REGENSBURG —

Historischer Verein.

Verhandlungen, XXXIV and XXXYV, ’79, ’80.

WIESBADEN —

Naussauischer Verein fur Erdkunde.

Jahrbuch, —C. L. Kirschbaum, XXIX, XXX.

SWITZERLAND.

BasEL—

Naturforschende Gesellschaft.

Verhandlungen, VI 1-4, 1874 to °78.

BERN —

Naturforschende Gesellschaft.

Mittheilungen,'1870-72, 684-711; °73, 827; °73-5, 828-905; 76-7, 924~=

936; 78, 937-961; °79, 962-978; °80, 979-1003.

Verein der Allgemeinen Schweizerischen Naturforschenden Gesell-

schaften fur Gesammten Naturwissenschaften.

(Societe Commune Helvetique de Sciences naturelles.)

Verhandlungen u. Denkschriften (memoires).

LI. Reunion at Solothurn, 1868-9.

LVI. Reunion at Schaffhausen, 1872-3.

LVII. Reunion at Chur, 1873-4.

LVIII. Reunion at Andermatt, 1874-5.

LVIX. Reunion at Basel, 1875-6.

LX. Reunion at Bex, 1876-7.

LXI. Reunion at Bern, 1877-8.

LXII. Reunion at St. Gall, 1878-9.

LXIII. Reunion at Brieg, 1879-80.

LAvsaNNE —

Societe Vaudoise de sciences naturelles.

Bulletin, No. 77, XIV, 1877; No. 78, XV, I877; No. 79, XV, 1878s |

XVI, No. 81, 1879; No. 83, 1880; XVII, 84, 1880.

Soc. Helvetique des sciences naturelles.

Actes, 1877, XII, 1, 80.

NEUCHATEL —

Societe histoire des sciences naturelles.

Bul, 1874, °%5, °%6, "77, 78, °79: X, 1 to 4, XI, 1, 2.

St. GALL —

Naturwissenschaftliche Gesellschaft.

Bericht iiber Thitigkeiten, "74-5, ’76-7, °77-8.

Naturforschende Gesellschaft.

Vierteljahresschrift, XII, 67; XIII, 68; XVII to XXV, 1880.

Misc.: Souvenir ? Amphiorama, 1880.

Trafford, Notice sur Toilette Nationelle, 1879, Lambuc.

Report of the Inbrarian. 348

FRANCE. .

AMIENS—

Societe Linneenne du Nord de la France.

Memoires, IV, "74°77.

Bulletin Mensuel, No. 31 to 98; 1871 to 1881.

BorDEAUX —

Academie national de B.

Actes, 1872, 1873.

Acad. Imperiale des sciences, Lettres et Arts.

Actes, 3d series, X XIX, 1867; 3rd Trimesire.

CaEN —

Academie national de C.

Memoires I to VIII, 1788 to "77; except IV, ’78.

Dison —

Acad. des Sciences, Arts et Belles Lettres. C

Memoires IV to VI, 1877 to ’80.

Lyons —

Acad. des sciences de L.

Memoires, Lettres, XV and XVI, 1870-75; XVIII, '%8-’9; XIX,

"79-80.

Memoires, Sciences, XVIII to XXIV, 1870 to 1880.

Lz Mans —

Soc. d’Agriculture Sciences, Arts et Lettres de la Sarthe.

XIII, 1-4; XIV,1 to 4; XV, 2-4; XVI, 1-4; XVII, 1, 2 and Sup.

3.4 and Sup.; XVIII, 1-4.and Sup.; XIX, 1, 2 and Sup. XX, 2. 1871

to ’82.

MONTPELLIER —

Acad. des Sciences et Lettres.

Memoires, Science, VI, ’64-’66; VII, ’67-'71; VIII, 72-75; IX,

76-80.

Memoires, Medicin, IV 8, ’66 to V 2, 79.

)’Histoire de Kyster d’ovaries.

Paris —

l'Indicateur de l’Archaeologie. No. 13, 1874.

M. Richard. Conformation du cheval.

Leopold Hugo. Les Crystalloides elementaires, 1867.

Les crystalloides a directrice circulaire, ’66.

Les crystalloides complexes, ’72.

Essai sur la geometrie des crystalloides, 73.

Introduction a la geometrie descriptive des crystalloides, ’74.

PEquidmoide et crystalloides geometriques, 1875.

La Valhalla des sciences pures et appliques, ’75.

Astronomie geometrique, 76.

La theorie Hugodecimales, ’77.

Ministere de l’Instruction publique. Catalogue, I, II, III.

844 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

Roven —

Soc. d’Amis des sciences naturelles.

Bul. 1879. 15th year, 2d ser., 1st semestre.

BELGIUM.

BRUXELLES —

Acad. Royale des sciences et des beaux arts de Belgique.

Principles de l’everage des animaux domestiques, 74,

Fragmentes paleontologiques de Belgiques — Crepin.

Quelques plantes fossiles, 1875 — Crepia.

Notes sur les Pecopteres Odontopteroides.

Notes sur Coccyzus, 1875.

Lizen —

Societe Royale des sciences.

Memoires VII, ’77; VIII,’ 78; IX, 81.

Soe. Geologique des Belgique.

Annales, Tomes, I to III, 1874~’6.

Mons —

Soc. Sciences, Arts et Letters du Hainaut.

Memoires, IIId Ser, IV, VIII, X, 1870 to 1881.

Memoires, IV Ser., I to V.

Program, 1879, 1881.

THE NETHERLANDS.

AMSTERDAM —

Koninklijke Akademie van Wetenschappen.

Verslagen, Naturkunde [ to XV, 1866 to 1880.

Verslagen, Letterkunce IV, 1874.

Verhand. Naturkunde XIV to XVI, ’74 to ’76.

Verhand. Lette:kunde VIII, X, °75-76.

Jabhrbeek, 1873 to 1875.

Proces Verbal, Naturkunde, ’73-4, ’74-5, ’75-6.

Catalogus I, III, 1.

Roy. Acad. of Netherlands:

*¢ Musa,” ’74.

“ Carmina Latina,” 75.

“ Hollandia,” ’76.

K. Zoologisch Genootschap “ Natura Artis Magistra.”’

Catalogus van het Bibliothek, ’81.

“ Linneeana ” Zentoongesteld, January 10, 1878.

Rede ter Herdenking van Carolus Linnzeus, ’78, Oudimaus.

Opening Splechtigheid van de Zentoonstelling, I to 1X, ’68—6.

Anwijzningen Zentoonstelling, 1878.

Plechtige Herdenking van Linnzeus Leven en Werken, 1878.

freport of the Librarian. By 9)

HarLEM —

Nederlandsch Maatschappij ter befordering van Niverheid.

Tijdschrift van Niverheid, 1873 to 1880.

Handeling en Mededeelingen, ’%3, 2,3; ’74 to 76.

Handeling Algemeene Vergadering Niverheid’s Congress, No. 19

to 20, 1873, °75, 76.

Handeling voor Cultuur der Zijderupsen, Fock, 73.

Address a.sa majesté le Roi.

Naamlijst der Leden. ’77.

Beilage — Kolonidal Museum. II, 75.

Musee Teyler.

Archives, Ser. I, I, II, If11, 1V; 1 V, 10, Ser. II; I, 1881.

Hollandsche Maatschappij dpr Wetenschappen.

(Societe Neerlandaises des Sciences exactes et Nat.)

Archives XII to XV, ’%7 to ’80.

Memoire: Telemeteorographe d’Ollande.

LEIDEN —

D. Bierens de Haan. ~

Notice sur des tables logarithmiques Hollandaises, ’73.

Un pamphlet mathematique Hollandaise, ’78.

Quelques, quadrateurs du cercle, ’74.

Dert Semeijins, ’72.

Over der Magt van het zogenaamd onbestaanbare in de Wiskunde.

Differential vergelijkingen, uit eene aangenomen Integral Vergel-

ijkingen, ‘78.

Boustotten voor de Geschiedenis der wis-en — Naturkundige Wetens-

chappen in de Nederlanden, 1878. Sup. to Verh., K. Ak. Weft.

Amsterdam, VIII, IX, X and XII.

RoTrrerRDAM —

Betaafsch Genootschap der Proefondervindelijke Wijsbergeerte.

(Soc. Batave de Pailosophie experimentale.)

Nieue Virhad. Reek, II; Deel, II; Stuk, II.

Program 1880.

UTRECHT —

Provinciaal Utrechtschen Genootschap Van Kunsten en Weten-

schappen.

Aanteekenningen, II, III, IV, V, 1871 to ’76.

Spectatoriale Geschriften, 1741-1800.

Invloed het Klooster Windesheim, I, II, ’%5, 76.

K. Nederlandsch Meteorologische Instituut.

Jabhrboek, 770, I1; 71, I1; 75, I.

ITALY.

CaGnoLa —

Fondazione Scientifica.

Atti, V, 1, 67-9; VI, 1, °72.

346 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

FIRENZE —

Biblioteca Nazionale, Reale Instituto di studj superiori practici e di

perfezionamento.

Publicazioni. Sezzione di filosofia e filologia, I, °%5; II, 1 to 6, 1876

and °7'7.

Accademia Orientale, 1, 7, and Memoria del Sabbatai Donnola

publicato da D. Castelli, 1880.

Sez. Med. e Chirurgia, 16, I, II, 6, and Mem. del dott. Pacini sul

Colera Asiatico, 1880.

Mem. del dott. Grassi sul Clinica Ostetrica, ’80.

Mem. del dott. Parlatore, and Plates, ’81.

Sez. Scienza fisiche e Naturali, Mem. del dott. Cavanna —‘“ Picno-

gonida.”

Sez. Anatomia e biologia, I, 7,

Mem. del. Tavole, Anat. delle piante aquatische, °81.

Minan —

R. Institnto Lombardo di Scienza Lettere ed Arti.

Rendiconti, II, 69, 17-21; III, IV, 1-18, V, 6-20; VII, VIII, XI, XIII,

1880.

Memoria XI, 2,3; XII, 2,6; XIII, 1,2; XIV, XV.

Recenti studj di Chirurgica Organica — Gabba, 1870.

Accademia fisio-medico-statistica.

Monumento al Cavaliere — Sacco, ’58. ;

Sommario storico della compagne sulla Vinificazione — Dini.

Transfusione del Sangue — Polli, ’52.

Moprna —

R. Accad. di scienza lettere ed arti.

Memorie, XVI to XIX, '%6 to ’79.

Soe. dei naturalisti.

Annusario, XII, 1, 2 and 3.

Roma—

Real Comitato Geologico d'Italia.

Bollettino, VI to XI, 1875 to 1880.

SPAIN AND PORTUGAL.

LisBon —

Acad. R, de Ciencias de Lisboa.

Sessao publica, 1875, 1877.

Memoria a epiocnomia, 1855.

“solre o estudo industrial e chimico dos trigos Portnguezes.”

Alvarenja Lapa.

Technologia rural, 74.

Chimica agricola, ’%3.

Maladies du coeur.

Report of the Inbrarian. 347

Maprm —

Sociedad d’Historia naturalia.

Manual.

R. academia d’Historia.

Boletin, I, 5, 1879.

; Catalogue portraits anciens de personages illustres.

SOUTH AMERICA.

CARACCAS —

Gaceta cientifica de Venezuela.

I, 5 to 11; II, 1 to 9; 1877-8.

BuEenos AYRES —

Napp.

“ Argentine Bepublic.”

Anales oficina meteorologica Argentina.

I, °78.

Rio DE JANEIRO —

Brazilian Biographical Annual.

1 10 JU0t

MEXICO.

Mexico —

Museo nacional.

Anales, I, '77, 6, '7; II, 1 to 6, 1881.

Sociedad de geografia y’estadistica.

Boletin, [V, 1 to 9; V, 1 to 6; 1878 to ’81.

ASIA.

Batavia, East INDIES —

K. Naturkundge Vereeniging in Nederlandsch Indie.

Tijdscrift, XX XV to XX XIX, 1875 to 1879.

AFRICA.

IsLAND OF MaAvRITIUS —

Roy. Soe. of Arts and Sciences.

Transactions, IX, 76.

Proces verbaux, 1874.

AUSTRALIA.

MELBOURNE —

Public Library.

SYDNEY —

Dept. of Mines, New South Wales.

Mineral statistics, 1873, 1875.

Mineral map and statistics.

Progress and Resources of N.S. W.

Report for 1875.

Statistical sketch of South Australia, 76.

Map or VICTORIA —

848 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND.

LonDon —

Royal Society.

Proceedings, XX XII, Nos. 153 to 213, except 200.

Transactions, Vol. 165, part [V, memoir XI, Arctic Tides.

Transactions, Vol. 166, part I, memoir IV, Alcyonaria.

Journal of Applied Science, VII.

Roy. Horticultural Soc. Journal,j New series, IV, 13, 14, 16.

Geological Society.

Quarterly Journal of, XX XV, 187, 138, 140.

List of Society Members, 1879.

Royal Institution of Great Britain.

Animal Mechanics, Houghton, 1871.

Ashmolean Society.

Beneficent Distribution of Sense of Pain, Rowell, 1862.

Trubner's Literary Record, 1879, 135-7, 155-6.

Bernard Quaritch. Catalogues.

Photographs in Brit. Museum.

English Literature.

Transactions of Learned Societies.

Natural History, Works on.

Clearance Sale, ’79.

French, German and Italian Literature.

Antiquities.

Works on Fine Arts.

Works on North and South America.

Rare works in Private Libraries.

Works on Games.

Periodical Litetature.

Misc. Pub. and Remainders.

Bath and West England Soc. Agriculture.

Journal, Third series, 1873.

Quarterly Journal of Conchology. I, 1-15, ’76-7.

MANCHESTER —

Literary and Philos. Society.

Catalogue of Library, 1875.

Proceedings, XII to XIX, ’%3 to ’80.

Memoirs, XXV, XXVI, Old Series, ’76, 79.

Scientific Students’ Association.

Annual Report, ’73.

NEWCASTLE ON TYNE —

North of England Institute of Mech. and Min. Engineers.

Index to Transactions, I-X XV, 52-76.

pedir

Report of the Inbrarian. 349

EDINBURGH —

Royal Society of.

Proceedings, 1871 to 1880.

New Phil. Journal.

Mem. by G. A. Rowell, 1881.

Cause of storms and Tererstrial Magnetism.

DvuBLIN —

Royal Society.

Scientific Transactions, vol. I, new ser. 1-14.

Scientific Transactions, vol. II, new ser. 1-8.

. Journal, I, II, IV, V, XII, XIII, XVI, XXVII, XXIX, XXX,

XXXI, XXXIV, to XX XVII, XXXIX, and XLIV.

Cunningham Memoirs, I, ’80.

Scientific Proceedings, new ser,, I 1-3, II 1-7.

Royal Irish Academy.

Proceedings, Science, and Minutes, ser. 2, [ 18, II 1, III 1-6.

Transactions — Antiquities, XXIV 9, 74.

Polite Literature and Antiquities, XX VII 1-4, ’77—81

Science, XXV, XXVI 1-16, 22.

Irish MS. Series, 11. Calendar of Oengus — Stokes.

Trustees of late James Henry.

Voyage of discovery in Virgil’s Aeneis, I, II, LV.

CANADA.

MonTREAL —

Canadian Antiquarian and Numismatic Society.

Journa!, VII 1, Jul. ’%8.

G. M. Dawson.

Report on Lignite Formation near 40th paral, ’738.

ToRONTO —

Canadian Institute.

Journal of Proceedings, new ser., 1 1,2, 1879.

OTTawa —

Royal Society of Canada.

Circular of Incorporation, etc., 1882.

St. Jouns —

Rep. of Geolog. Survey of Newfoundland, 1873.

UNITED STATES.

ALBANY, N. Y.—

Regents of State University.

Report No. 85 to 91. 1872 to 1878.

Report on Museum of Natural History, No. 20 to 30, exc. 28. 1866 to

1876.

350 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

Axgany, N. Y.—continued.

Trustees of State Library.

Report No. 54 to 61. 1872 to °79.

Dudley Observatory. Annals, II, 71.

Commission of Fisheries. Report, °73, ’74.

Agricultural Society. 1869.

Statutes Relating to Albany County Penitentiary.

Report on Water Supply of Albany.

Report on Topographical Survey Adirondacks. 1873.

Albany Institute — publications.

Hudson’s Sailing directions — De Costa, 69.

Maxims of Laws of England, ’70.

Fungi. Peck, ’70.

The Palatine Emigration, ’71.

New Phenomena in Chemistry, ’72.

Manual, 775.

Isthmus of Tehuautepec. Skeel.

Biographical notice of Peter Wraxall.

Atco, N. Y.—

Science Society.

Science Advocate, I, 1-4; II, 1-8; ’80, ’81.

Aveusta, Mn.—

Maine Pomological Society. 1st. Ann. Rep., ’73.

Natural History and Geology of Maine. 1863.

Hydrographic Survey, Rep.

Water power of Maine. Wells, 1869.

Ornamental and Useful Plants of Maine. 1875.

Cattle of Maine, Boardman.

Boston, Mass.—

Soc. of Natural History.

Proceedings XVII to XXI, 2; 1874 to 18881, except XIX, 3.

American Academy of Arts and Sciences.

Proceedings, II, "75; V, 1, 2, 77, "78; VII, 1, 2, "79 to 81.

Memoires, XI, 1, 1882.

Boston Journal of Chemistry. VIII, 2, Aug.,78; IX to XI, 1, 2; XII,

1-11 (exe. 2) 17, Nov., ’°78; XIII 1, Jan., 79,3, 4, 8, 9; XIV, 1-12

(exc. 2, 8, 6, 9, 11); XV, 1-12 (exc. 2,7, 9, 10,11); XVI, 1-5, May, ’82.

BRIDGEPORT, Conn —

Bridgeport Scientific Society.

President’s address, 1881.

Burratro, N. Y —

Society of Natural Science.

Bul. I, 2, %8, 4, °'%4; II, 1, 74, 4, '74.

Report of the Labrarian. 30l

CAMBRIDGE, Mass —

Museum of Comparative Zoology — Harvard University.

Annual Report, ’74, 75, "78-9, ’80, ’81.

Bul. III, ’76, 11-16; LV and Plates for III and V of Terrestial Mol-

luscs — Binney. YV, 11-16; VI, 3-9; V1, VIII, pp. 1-284; IX, 1-5,

1881.

Memoires, I1 9, 1876, Insect Deformities — Hagen.

Memcires, IV, 10, American Bisons — Allen.

Memoires, VII, 1, Florida Reefs — Agassiz.

Memoires, VIII, 1, Immature State of Odonata pt., II — Cabot.

Nuttall Ornithological Club.

Jers JOY ale erie

Cuicago, ILL —

Academy of Sciences.

Constitution, etc., and Vol. 1, Proceedings, 1865.

Annual Address, 1878.

Public Library. Rep. V, 77; VII, ’79.

American Antiquarian and Oriental Journal. IV, 2, ’°82—S. D. Peet.

United States Medical Investigator. June, ‘1873 to April, °76; Nos. .

109 to 164 (except 110, 111, 117, 180, 132, 133, 135, 141, 143, 144, 150,

160, 162).

Engineering News. III, 19, 31, 53.

S. W. Burnham. Double Star Observations.

Catalogue of, 1877, 1879.

: CINCINNATI, O —

Society of Natura! History.

Journal, I, 4, 79; II, 1, 79, 4, °80; III, 14; IV, 1, 2, 4.

CLEVELAND, O —

Academy of Natural Science.

Prodeedings, 745 to 59.

CoLumMsEtvs, O —

Geological Survey of Ohio.— N. H. Winchell, 1871. .

Surface Geography of Northwestern Ohio, 1872.

DavEnport, Ia, —

Academy of Natural Science.

Proceedings II 1, "76-7 and Plates.

Dzs Mornss, Ia.—

“The Analyst ” J. E Hendricks.

I, 1874 in 12 Nos., II to [X 3 (Exc. VIII 1 and IX 2), ea., 6 Nos.

INDIANAPOLIS, IND.—

State Geological Survey, Cox, Rep., 1869, 1870.

Iowa Crry, Ia.—

Iowa Acad. of Natural Science.

Proceedings, 1875 to 1880.

do2 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

Kansas Crry, Mo. —

“ Western Review of Science and Industry,” Theo. S Case.

I,2 May, ’77 to V 12. (Exe. I, 6, 10, 11,12. II, 4-7,9. III, 3, 5-8,

NOR NOs Be Gy TP NY aT)

KNOXVILLE, TENN.—

State University, Cat., 79-80.

Maprtson, Wis.—

Wisconsin Acad. Sciences, Arts and Letters.

Bul.

Transactions I, 70-72; II, ’73-4; III, 75-6; IV, 76-7; V,°79~81.

State Agricultural Society. Trans. ’69 to “7, Exc.

State Historical Soc. Cat. of Library. I, II, ’73 and Sup. I, ’%5.

State Board Charities and Reform, Rep. VIII, ’78; IX, ’79.

State Universiiy, Rep. Board Regents, 1874.

State Horticultural Soc. Trans., 1867.

State Supt. of Public Instruction, Rep. Pickard, 1861.

School Laws of Wisconsin — Searing, ’73, ’77.

R. R. Commissioner, An. Rep. I, °74.

Rep. Sec’y of State, 1877.

Legislative Manual, 1863.

Rep. on London and Paris Exhibitions — Hoyt, 1862, 1867.

Wis. State Medical Society — Trans., 1875.

Wisconsin Geolog. Survey —T. C. Ccamberlin, Beloit, Director;

Report III. 2

MiIppLETOWN, Conn.—

Scientific Association.

Occasional papers, 1, 81.

MILWwAUKEB, WIs.—

Naturhistorischer Verein.

Jahresbericht, ’76, ’79-’80, ’80-"81.

MInNEAPOLIS, MINN.—

Regents of University,— Report, 1870.

University, Almanac, '71.

Annual Report on Geological and Natural History.

Survey —N. H. Winchell, ’72, 76 to’80.

N. H. Winchell. Notes on Drift Soils of Minn., ’%3.

Notes on Drift Soils of the Northwest, ’73.

Devonian Limestone of Ohio, 1873.

Inaugural Address of Gov. Davis, 1874.

Minn. Acad of Sciences.

Bull. 1877.

New Haven, Conn.—

Conn. Acad. of Sciences.

Quartzite Limestone of Great Barrington, Mass.,— Dana.

Glacial and Champlain Eras in N. E.,—J. D. Dana.

Amer. Journal of Science and Arts.

Report of the Librarian. 358

New York, N. Y.

American Museum of Natural History.

Annual Report XII, 1881.

Rep. of Trustees of Central Park Menagerie, 1879.

Journal of American Chemical Society, I 12, ’79.

PHILADELPHIA —

Numismatic and Antiquarian Society.

Report on Operations of Soc., 78-9, ’81.

Henry Phillips, Jr.

Early Currency of Maryland, 1865.

Pleasure of Numismatic Science, ’66.

Medicine and Astrology, ’66.

Notes on Collection of Coins and Medals at Penn. Mus., "79.

Notes on a Denarius of Cxsar, 1880.

Head dresses exhibited on ancient coins, 1881.

American Philosophical Society.

D. G. Brinton.

Grammar of Choctaw lang., 1870.

Grammar of Muskokee lang., 1870.

National Legend of Chahtah-Muskokee Indians, 1870.

Ancieat Phonetic Alphabet of Yucatan, 1870.

The Books of Chilan Balam, 1881.

Academy of Natural Science.

Proceedings, ’77% to ’81 — exe. ’78, I III, ’79, II.

Zoological Society.

Report of Board of Directors, VII to LX, 1879 to ’81.

Naturalist’s Leisure Hour and Monthly Bul., II 11, III 1, 4, IV 10.

Polytechnic Review.,, I 1, '76.

PouGcHKEEPsIE, N. Y. —

Soc. of Natural Science.

Proceedings, "79-80.

PRINCETON, N. J. —

Museum of Archaeology and Geology.

- Report of the Princeton Scientific Expedition, 1877.

Sautem, Mass. —

American Association for Advancement of Science.

Proceedings Nashville meeting, 1877, XX VI.

Proceedings St. Louis meeting, 1878, XXVII.

Proceedings Saratoga meeting, 1879, XXVIII.

Proceedings Boston meeting, 1880, X XIX, 1st part.

Proceedings Boston meeting, 1881, XAIX, 2d part.

Naturalists Agency — §. E. Cassino.

Naturalists Directory, 1878.

854 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

St. Lours, Mo. —

University Catalogue, ’76-7.

American Institute of Mining Engineers,

Lignite Coals of Colorado, Potter, 1878.

Academy of Science.

Transactions, III 1, 2, 4, IV 1, 2, 1873-81.

Archaeology of Missouri, Pottery — pt. I, 1880.

Br. Paun, Minn.—

Northwestern Medical and Surgical Journal.

I, 2; Il, 1; IMI, 1,2, 3,5. 1870-72.

San FRancieco, Can.—

Cal. Acad. of Science.

Proceedings, VI, ’75-6.

Report of Trustees of James Lick Observatory.

Univ. of California — Rob. H. C. Stearns.

Comments on Marine Shells of Cal.

SoutH BETHLEHEM, Pa.—

Lehigh University.

SPRINGFIELD, ILL.—

R. R. Commissioner. Rep. 772, 373.

Le Baron. Rep. or Noxious Insects, I, II, ’71, °72.

State Horticultural Society. Trans. 1867.

Syracusz, N. Y.—

Free Dispensary — E.Van de Warker, M. D.

Sun Stroke and its theory, 1870.

Detection of Criminal Abortion, 71.

Criminal use of Advertising Nostrums, 1873.

Use of Seton in Chronic Affections of Womb.

The Detection of Criminal Abortion and Study of Feeticidal Drugs,

1872.

TorprEKa, Kan.—

Kansas Acad. of Sciences.

Transactions, 1873, 1875, 1876, 1877-8.

Catalogue of Birds of Kansas, 1875.

Wasuineton, D. C.. DEPARTMENT OF INTERIOR —

U.S. Geological and Gegoraphical Survey of the Territories. F. V.

Hayden in charge.

Annual Reports of Progress.. I to XI, 1867 to 1877.

Miscellaneous Publications. I to XI, except Il and Y.

Bul. Ser. IJ, 1, 2, 5,6; Vol. II, 1, 2,4; IIL. 1, 2,4; IV, 1-4; V, 1-4;

VI, 1,2. Birds of Nevada, W. J. Hoffman. Presented by author.

Preliminary Report of Field Work, 77, 78.

Report of the Librarian. 355

Wasuineron, D. C.— continued.

Catalogue of publications, ’74.

U. S. Hntomological Commission.

Bul. I, 1st and 2d editions; II, III, V.

Report on Rocky Mt. Locust, I, ’77-8; II, ’78-9.

Reporis of Survey: I. Fossil Vertebrates.

II. Cretaceous Vertebrates.

VY. Zoology and Botany.

VI. Cretaceous Flora.

VII. Tertiary Flora.

IX. Cretaceous Tertiary Invertebrates.

X. Geometrid Moths.

XI. N. Amer. Rodentia.

U.S. G. & G. Survey of Rocky Mt. Region, J. W. Powell in charge.

Contributions to N. A. Ethnology, I, III, 1V.

Exploration of Colorado, ’69 to °72.

Geology of the Uintah Mts., ’%6.

Geology of the Black Hills of Dakota.

Geology of Henry Mts., 77.

Lands of Arid Region, 79; Ex. Doc. No. 73.

Arnual Report, 77.

Report on Method of Survey, 1878.

Exploration of the 40th Parallel, Clarence King in charge.

I, Sys. Geol.; II, Descr. Geol.; VI, Ornith. and Pal.; V, Bot.; VII,

Odonthornithes, and Report for 1880.

Indian Bureau.

Report on Indian affairs, 1876.

Survey of Black Hilis; Rept on Resources of, 1876; W. P. Jenney in

charge.

Patent Office.

Report, ’69, I, II, and III.

Census Office.

Report on 9th census, 1870; Compendium and Vital Statistics.

General Land Office.

Report, ’70, 71.

Bureau of Education.

Circulars of Information, 8 to 7.

Report of Commissioner, ’71. '74, 75.

Special Report on Public Libraries.

Smithsonian Institution.

Collections, VII, X, XI.

Report, ’71, 75.

Rep. of Coues on Geomys & Thomomys, 1875.

Synopsis of scientific writings of Herschell — Holden & Hastings.

Bureau of Hthnolo gy.

356 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

Wasuinerton, D. C.— continued.

Introduction to Study of Sign Language of Indians, Powell, ’80.

Introduction to Study of Mortuary Customs of Indians, Yarrow.

National Museum.

Bulletin, 1 to 15.

War Department: Engineering Dept. U.S. A.

Geol. & Geog. Survey west of 100th meridian, LieutyG. M. Wheeler tn

charge. e

Reports: I. Syst. Geol.

II. Astron. and Hypsometry.

III. Geology.

IV. Paleontology.

V. Zoology.

VI. Botany.

VII. Archaeology.

Signal Service Office.

Daily Weather Charts.

Dept. of Navy — U. S. Naval Observatory.

Washington Astron. Observations, ’47, 751, 52, °63, 64.

Results of Astron. Observations, ’53-60.

Astron. and Meteorol. Observations, ’72 to ’77.

Report on Total Eclipse of July 29, 1878.

Report on Total Eclipse of January 11, 1831.

Subject Index of Publications, 45-75; Holden, ’79.

Catalogue of Library, 1879, Part I.

Treasury Department — Bureau of Statistics.

Finance Report, ’73, ’76.

Quarterly Qeports, ’75, II; 76, I-IV.

Mineral Resources West of Rocky Mountains, Raymond, '71 and %2,

Commerce and Navigation, ’76, I, II. ,

Special Report on Immigration, ’69-70.

Rep. Spec. Sur. Immigration, Young.

Dept. of Agriculture.

Report, 1871, 1879.

Report on Cotton Insects, ’79.

Report on Commercial Relations, 775.

Special Report No. 17, on Condition of Crops.

Department of State.

Messages and Documents — abridged, ’67-8, 76, ’77.

Messages and Documents, ’68-9, I and II.

Philosophical Society — Constitution of, 1871.

Miscellaneous.

Report on Yellowstone National Park — Morris, "77 and ’87.

Report of the Librarian. 357

Wasuineton, D. C.—continued.

Internatl. Exhib., °76— Classification and Collection to Illustrate

Animal Resources of U. 8S. — Goode.

Natural History of Kerguelen Islands, II, ’76.

Preliminary Rep. on Alaska — H. R., 40, Exec. Doc.

Hlectoral Count, ’76.

Digest of Leading Cases in International Law.

Report of U. 8. Observ. of Transit of Venus — Kidder, ’74-5.

Johnson’s Rep. of International Exhibition at London, 1862.

National Almanac, 1863.

Statistical Atlas of United States—- Walker.

Worcester, Mass.

Worcester County Free Institute of Industrial Science.

Catalogue, 1876, 1877.

UNCLASSIFIED.

Reports of International Congress d’Anthropologj. Bologne.

Sources di Toretta Monte Catini. Toscane, ’67.

Memorial of Increase A. Lapham.

History of Dane County.

Report'of Progress in Zoology for 1870. Geo. T. Stevens.

Distributions Geographiques des reptiles au Mexique. Sumichrast, ’72.

Classment botanique des plantes alimentaries du Brésil. Gama, Paris, ’67.

Les peches de la Norwege. Baars, Paris, ’67.

Notice statistique le Chile. Paris, ’67.

L’histoire des Roses. Crepin, Paris, parts ILI and IV.

Richerche sulla cotenna del sangue. Giovanni Polli.

Peat as fuel. Leavitt, Boston.

Gesetz der Wechselwirkung in Weltall. Liiders, 1870.

Das Polar Licht. Luders, ’%0. Sauk City, Wisconsin.

Aussiedlungen Normanen in Island, Grénland u. Nord Amerika in 800-

1100 A. D. Ulrici.

La vie et les travaux de Walowski, 76—77.

Nitroglycerine as used in Hoosac Tunnel. Mowbray.

Jaarlijksch Verslag der overijsseliche Vereening tot Ontwikkeling van

Provinciale Weltwaart. 1854.

De Aardkunde de, Do. 1845.

Report of London and Paris International Expositions. Hoyt, ’69.

“ Pharaoh’s Daughter,”’ Williams and N orgate. London, 1868, 1874.

Map of Victoria, Australia.

Catalogue of Articles contributed by Cape of Good Hope to Paris expost-

sition, 1867.

Map of Scandinavia. |

Proceedings of Conference of Charities. Saratoga, 1877.

American Social Science Association. Circular of organization.

Report of Sunday School Association at Norwich, N. Y., 1872.

858 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

The following societies have opened exchanges with the Academy sinco

1881:

Library Club of Philadelphia.

Torrey Botanical Club, New York City.

American Society of Ctvil Engineers, New York.

Missourt Historical Soiciety, St. Louis, Mo.

John’s Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md.

U. 8. Fish Commisson.

Videnskabernes Selskab, Throndhjem, Norway.

Charles B. Cory, Boston.

Museum at Bergen, Norway.

Biological Society, Washington, D. C.

i. W. Shufeldt, Washington, D. C.

North of England Institute of M. & U. Engineers, New Castle on Tyne.

Royal Society of Canada, Toronto.

Constant Branden Vanden, 69 Rue de la Madeleine, Bruxelles, Belgium.

The authors of the various Government and State Reports and of certain

Societies are entitled to receive the Transactions of the Academy.

LIST OF MEMBERS OF THE ACADEMY.

LIFE MEMBERS.

Case, J. I., Hon., Racine, Wis.

Dewey, Nelson, Ex-Governor Wisconsin, Cassville, Wis.

Hagerman, J. J., Milwaukee, Wis.

Hill, Jas. L.. Hon., Denver, Colorado.

Hoyt, J. W., Hon., Governor Wyoming Territory, Cheyenne.

Lapham, I. A., Milwaukee. (Deceased.)

Lawler, John, Prairie du Chien, Wis.

Mitchell, J. L., Hon., Milwaukee, Wis.

Paul, G. H., Hon., Milwaukee, Wis.

Thomas, J. E, Hon., Shepoygan Falls, Wis.

Thorpe, J. G., Hon., Eau Claire, Wis.

White, 8S. A. Hon., Whitewater. (Deceased.)

ANNUAL MEMBERS.

Adsit, N. H., Mrs., 268 Knapp St., Milwaukee, Wis.

Allen. W. C., Hon., Racine, Wis.

Allen, W. F., A. M.. Prof. Latin and History, University of Wisconsin.

Baetz, Henry, Hon., Milwaukee, Wis.

Bartlett, H. W., M. D., Milwaukeee, Wis.

Bascom, John, D. D., LL. D., President University of Wisconsin.

Bashford, R. M., A..M., Madison, Wis.

Bate, A. W., Mrs., 320, Terrace Avenue, Milwaukee, Wis.

Birge, E. A., Ph. D., Prof. Zoology, University of Wisconsin, Madison.

Beach, W. H., Beloit., Wis.

Bryant, Ed. E. Hon., Madison, Wis.

Bowen, Stephen, Reyv., Clinton, Wis.

Buck, J.S., M. D., Milwaukee, Wis.

Beaty, Henry, Hon., Milwaukee, Wis.

Buell, I. M., Prof., Taladega College, Taladega, Alabama.

Bull, Storm, Univ. Wis., Madison, Wis.

Bundy, W. F., Prof. Eclectic Medical College, Chicago, Il.

Butler, J. D., LL. D., Madison, Wis.

Cass, Josiah E., Hon., Eau Claire, Wis.

Chamberlain, T. C., A. M., Prof. Nat. Hist. Beloit College and Director

of State Geological Survey, Beloit, Wis.

Chapin, A. L., D. D., Pres. Beloit College, Beloit, Wis.

360

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

Conover, O. M., A. M., Madison, Wis.

Conover, S. F., Mrs., Madison, Wis.

Daniells, W. W., M. D., Prof. Chemistry, Univ. Wis.

Davies, J. E., A. M., M. D., Prof. Physics, Univ. Wis.

Day, F. H., M. D., Wauwatosa, Wis.

Delaplaine, Geo. P., Madison, Wis.

Doyle, Peter, Hon., Prairie du Chien, Wis.

Draper, L. C., Hon., Cor. Sec. State Historical Soc., Madison, Wis.

Dudley, M. V., Mrs., Milwaukee, Wis.

Durrie, D.8., Librarian State Histurical Society Wis.

Elmendorf, J. J., 5. T. D., Prof. in Racine College, Racine, Wis.

Emerson, J., Professor of Greek, Beloit College, Beloit, Wis.

Falk, F. W. A., Ph. D., Prof. in Racine Col., Racine, Wis. '

Farrar, Chas. A., Pres. Milwaukee College, Milwaukee, Wis.

Foye, J. C., A. M., Prof. Physics, Lawrence Univ., Appleton, Wis.

Frankenburger, D. P., Professor Elocution and Rhetoric, Univ. Wis.

Freeman, J. C., A. M., Prof. English Literature, Univ., Wis.

Gapen, Clark, M. D., Prof. Medical Jurisprudence, University of Wis.,

Madison, Wis.

Giles, Ella, Miss, City Librarian, Madison, Wis.

Gordon, George, Mrs., Humboldt Ave., Milwaukee, Wis.

Green, Thos., A., Milwaukee, Wis.

Hardy, Albert, Principal High School, Milwaukee, Wis.

Hendrickson, Peter, A. M., Prof. in Beloit Col., Beloit, Wis.

Hastings, 8. D., Hon., Madison, Wis.

Hindley, R. C., Prof., Racine College, Racine, Wis.

Holton, E. D., Hon., Milwaukee, Wis.

Heritage, Lucius, Univ. Wis., Madison, Wis.

Hoy, P. R., M. D., Racine, Wis.

Hutchinson, B. E., Hon., Madison, Wis.

Irving, R. D., A. M., M. E., Prof. Geol. and Mining Engineering in

University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis.

Jones, Burr W., Hon., Madison, Wis.

Jones, Wm., Clinton, Wis.

Kerr, Alex., A. M., Prof. Greek, University, Wis.

King, F. H., Prof. Nat. Science, State Normal School, River Falls

Wis. :

Kumlien, Thure, Busseyville, Wis.

Lapham, Mary J., Miss, Oconomowoc, Wis.

Lewis, H. M., Mrs., Madison, Wis.

Marks, Solon, M. D., Prospect Ave., Milwaukee, Wis.

MeLaren, W. P., Milwaukee, Wis.

Meacham, J. G., Sr., M. D., Racine, Wis.

Meacham, J, G., Jr., M. D., Racine, Wis.

Morris, W. A. P., Hon., Madison, Wis.

Report of ihe Librarian. 361

Nader, John, C. E., Madison, Wis.

Olin, D. A., Mrs., Racine, Wis.

Olin, J. M., Esq., Madison, Wis.

Orton, Harlow 8., Judge Supreme Court Wis., Madison, Wis.

Parkinson, J. B., A. M., Prof. Political Economy, University Wis.

Peckham, G. W., Prof. Nat. Science, Milwaukee High School.

Peet. 8. D., Rev., editor American Antiquarian, Clinton, Wis.

Perkins, H. B., Prof. Lawrence University, Appleton, Wis.

Pradi, J. B., Rev., Madison, Wis.

Raymer, Geo. Madison, Wis.

Reed, Geo., Hon., Manitowoc, Wis.

Rogers, A. J.. Milwaukee, Wis.

Sawyer, W. C., Prof. State Normal School, Oshkosh, Wis.

Smith, W. E., Hon., Governor of Wisconsin.

Simmons, H. M., Rev., Minneapolis, Minn.

Sneiding, Henry, Racine, Wis.

Stair, U. P., M. D., Black Earth, Wis.

Viebahn, C. F., Watertown, Wis.

Westcott, O. 8., Chicago, Il.

Willis, O. B., Mrs., Racine, Wis.

Whitford, W. C., A. M., ex-Supt. Public Instruction of Wisconsin, Mil-

ton, Wis.

Wiasship, E. B., Racine College, Racine, Wis.

Wooster, L. C., Prof. Nat. Sciences, State Normal School, Whitewater»

Wis.

Wright, A. O., Sec. State Board of Charities and Reform, Madison,

Wis. ’ v

Young, A. A., Rev., New Lisbon, Wis.

DECEASED MEMBERS.

Armitage, W. E., Right Rev., Bishop P. E. Church, Milwaukee, Wis.

Carpenter, 8. H., LL.D., Prof. English Language, University of Wis-

consin, Madison, Wis.

De Koven, J., 58. T. D., Warden ence College, Racine, Wis.

Dudley, Wm., Madison Wis.

Eaton, J. H., Ph. D., Prof. Chemistry Beloit College, Beloit, Wis.

Engelman, Peter, Director German and English Academy, Milwaukee,

Feuling, J. B., Ph. D. Prof. Philology, University Wisconsin.

Hawley, C. T., Milwaukee, Wis.

Lapham, I. A., LL. D., State Geologist, Milwaukee, Wis.

Little, Thos. H., Supt. Institution for the Blind, Janesville.

McDill, A. 8., M. D., Supt. State Hospital for the Insane, Madison, Wis.

Nicodemus, W. J. L., A. M. C. E., Prof. Engineering, Uniy. Wis.

White, S. A., Hon., Whitewater, Wis.

Wolcott, E. B. M. D., Surgeon General, Milwaukee, Wis.

#23

362

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

CORRESPONDING MEMBERS.

Abbott, C. C., M. D., Trenton, N. Jersey.

Andrews, Edmund, A. M. M. D., Prof. Chicago Medical College,

Chicago, III.

Barrow, John W., 118 Hast Seventeenth St., New York City.

Bridge, Norman, M. D., Chicago, Ill.

Benton, J. G., M. D., Philadelphia, Penn.

Buchanan, Joseph, M. D., Louisville, Ky.

Burnham, 8. W., F. R. A. 8., Chieago, III.

Byrness, R. M., M. D., Cincinnati, Ohio.

Carr, E.8., M. D., Supt. Public Instruction, California.

Caverno, Rev. Chas., Lombard, II].

Ebener, F., Ph. D., Baltimore, Md.

Fallows, Right Rev. Sam’, Chicago, Ill.

Gatchell, H. P., M. D., Kenosha, Wis.

Gill, Theo., M. D., Smithsonian Institute, Washington, D. C.

’ Gilman, D. C., Pres. Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, M. D.

Harris, W. T., LL. D., Concord, Mass.

Hopkins, F. N., M. D., Baton Rouge, La.

Holland, Rev. F. M., Concord, Mass.

Horr, M. D., Pres. Iowa Institute of Arts and Sciences, Dubuque, Ia.

Hubbell, H. P., Winona, Minn.

Jewell, J.S., A. M., M. D., Prof. Chicago Medical College, Chicago, Ill.

Le Barron, Wm., State Entomologist, Geneva, N. Y.

Marcy, Oliver, LL. D., Prof. Northwestern University, Evanston, Ill.

Morgan, L. H., LL. D., Rochester, Il.

Newberry, J. S., LL. D., Prof. Columbia College, New York. —

Orton, E., A. M., Pres. Antioch coupe Yellow Springs, Oaio.

Paine, Alford 8. T. D., Hinsdale, Ill.

Swezey, G. D., Prof, Crete, Neb.

Porter, W. B., Prof., St. Louis, Mo.

Safford, T. H., Director Astron. Observatory Williams College, Wil-

liamstown, Mass.

De Vere, Schele M., LL.D.,Prof. University Virginia, Charlotteville, Va.

Shaler, N.8., A. M., Prof. Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass.

Shipman, Col. 8. V., Chicago, III.

Steele, Rev. G. M., LL. D., Principal of Wilbraham Seminary, Wilbra-

ham, Mass.

Trumbull, J. H., LL. D., Hartrord, Conn.

Verrill, A. E., A. M., Prof. Yale College, New Haven, Conn.

Van de Warker, Eli, M. D., Syracuse, N. Y.

Whitney, W. D., Prof. Yale College, New Haven, Conn.

Winchell, Alex., LL. D., Ann Arbor, Mich.

Winchell, N.H., Prof., Minneapolis, Minn.’

Report of the Lnbrarian.

HONORARY MEMBERS.

Baird, Spencer F., M. D., LL. D., Washington, D. C,

Hamilton, Joseph, Hon., Milwaukee, Wis.

MEMBERS ELECTED DECEMBER 28, 1881.

Higby, W. R., Prof., Lake Geneva Seminary.

Lamb, F. J., Esq., Madison.

Salisbury, R. D., Beloit.

Smith, E. G., Prof., Beloit College, Beloit, Wis.

363

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